Chapter Nine: All That Matters

The teenaged boy brushed his messy silver hair out of his face as he sat up, the world around him blurred out for a beautiful split-second before his vision cleared.

"Celeana?" He raised an eyebrow at the sleeping figure on the opposite bed, clicking his tongue in mock annoyance when she failed to rise. "It's time to go. Wake up."

He stuck his tongue out ever-so-slightly in exasperation, retrieving a spare rubber band from the table next to his bed and shooting the circlet of material towards the back of her unguarded head with a skilful flick. "You forced me to do this," he commented in a playful tone.

The blue-haired girl opened her eyes with a surprised noise, scrambling out of the bed and glancing at her companion with a flustered grin.

Celeana's immediate reaction was to fling the duvet at the boy, and she wasn't at all surprised when he evaded it with little difficulty.

The coordinator was not a morning person—her head was still filled with remnants of white noise from her sleep, and she wanted to just lie in bed and just do nothing for the rest of the day. It sounded like a good idea; however, her partner seemed to think otherwise.

It was raining outside—a heavy downpour, no less. Walking though a waterfall couldn't get any wetter.

The light shower of raindrops against the room's window was calming, the droplets mirroring the dull monotone beats of her sleepy heart.

Snapping out of her early-morning trance, she pulled her complaining body out of the comfortable haven that people would call a bed.

"What time is it?" she complained, dragging a brush through the tangles in her thick hair. "Not everyone's a m—morning person like you."

"Seven," He replied, handing her a blue rucksack that she recognised as her own. "Furthermore, Verdanturf's contest is today and you have to register by nine-thirty. I'll be flying to Petalburg City for my gym battle—if you're done with your contest beforehand, you can take a taxi there."

The teenager nodded, distracted from the hazy veil that the lingering traces of sleep had left behind. She didn't quite understand what her companion was talking about, but she dismissed the thought, telling herself that her brain would process the information later.

She trudged her way into the small bathroom with a grudging sigh, the hasty shower more than rejuvenating her half-conscious body.

Changing into her usual outfit, she tugged her red vest on, pulling the fabric around her shoulders for comfort.

"No time for mulling over things," she sighed. "I have to go sign up for the contest now."

Granted, she was a little nervous—she had handed her Ralts over to Nurse Joy's care the night before, and the one Pokemon she could use was her Froakie, who was unpredictable and might not stand to listen to her commands.

She shook her head firmly, a few stray locks of cerulean hair falling out of her face. "Now's not the time," she reminded herself once again.

With that, Celeana stepped out of the bathroom, inspecting the empty area in front of her.

Ryou hadn't bothered to wait for her—his bed was already made, and there was no signs at all that the silver-haired boy was still here. She didn't blame him—he had mentioned an appointment for his Gym match, and travelling to Petalburg was quite a distance.

She checked the time—seven thirty. She would had just enough time to eat breakfast and buy a Pokeball capsule before she had to rush to the contest hall.

The blue-haired girl sighed

I really have a lot to do.

• • •

"I'd like to register for the contest, please," Celeana gasped out breathlessly. She'd overestimated the amount of time needed to get to the hall, and she'd just managed to arrive a few minutes before the registration had closed.

The blonde-haired woman raised an eyebrow, an apathetic expression on her face. "You're lucky that you're still in time," she remarked. "Do you have a contest pass?"

Nodding, the coordinator dug through her bag, taking out a thin card and almost slamming it on the desk with thin-wearing patience.

Thank goodness for Miss Enya, she sighed to herself. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have even known that we need contest passes.

The receptionist slid a slim rectangular piece of plastic across the counter. "Use this card to enter the waiting room."

The teenager nodded with haste, uttering a hurried thanks before rushing past the receptionist and swiping the plastic pass on a foreign-looking device, the electronic beep confirming her permission to enter and the glass doors sliding open.

She blinked, trying to orientate herself—the waiting room alone was bigger than she'd imagined.

It was also crowded with aspiring Coordinators like her, all busy in preparation for their performance. She spied a few of these people stretching, warming up their muscles, and others just sat down, their eyes closed as they prepared their mental game.

Unsure of what to do, she let her Froakie out of her Pokeball.

The small creature eyed her, inspecting his trainer with yellow eyes before breaking the stare with apparent disinterest.

"This is our first contest," Celeana started, kneeling down to caress the water-type Pokemon—at least, with as little force as possible. "I know you and I don't really get along now, but could you at least make an effort?"

The frog-like creature glances at her with the gaze of a stranger, watching with aloof judgement. He then replied with a noncommittal grunt, sliding his eyes half close before giving his trainer a mechanical nod.

"Fro," the Pokemon mumbled half-heartedly, making his way to his Pokeball and disappearing into it.

"Thank you," she sighed, though her gratitude, like Froakie's, was half-meant. She was too distracted by the numerous coordinators around her, each one seeming more confident than the last.

They were decked out in elaborate costumes, exquisite details decorating their showy outfits and phlegmatic Pokemon prancing around beside their trainers, unruffled by the pressure of the performance that awaited them.

She took a moment to finger the plain fabric of her cherry-coloured vest, a hesitant frown faltering on her face. Sure, these clothes of hers weren't bad by any means, but the fancy garb that her opponents dressed in had shook her confidence, making her simple garments seem almost shabby.

Celeana couldn't worry about that, however—she reminded herself that clothes didn't determine the quality of a performance, and all that mattered was that she did her best.

Yeah, she told herself, stealing a small, freed-up corner amidst the cramped space of the waiting room. That's all I need to think about.

• • •

"Our last contestant is a newcomer, someone all the way from Kalos." The announcer lowered the microphone for a split-second, the amplified silence doing nothing but skyrocketing the tense atmosphere that almost steamed the arena. "Please welcome Celeana to the stage!"

The blue-haired girl scrunched her eyes shut for a moment, trying to force her mind to erase the last of her nervous, wild fantasies and stepped out from the corridor, almost unnoticeable tremors running down her legs as two huge spotlights shone on her.

She gulped—it was all or nothing now.

"F—Froakie, center stage!" The teenager didn't know why she used a catchphrase, but she'd mulled over dozens of ideas after seeing all sorts of linguistic talent at use when watching Contests on TV.

The spherical device burst open, a sea of glimmering bubbles spilling forth and revealing the frog-like creature in the midst of the frothy cloud.

The water-type Pokemon emerged in a particularly large bubble, eyes closed and floating in the transparent prism that he was trapped in. Celeana looked around with wide eyes as a long bout of unpleasant silence followed—she wasn't doing anything wrong yet. This was all part of her performance.

And then, when she was sure that Froakie was ready and that she had the audience's attention, she started.

The polished tap shoes were the one thing special about her outfit—she had managed to rent them from a shop nearby, and they were essential to her performance.

The coordinator started to strike out a simple beat, the low heels tapping out a slow rhythm against the sticky cement floor. The sound was low and resonant, and almost reached a level of eerie amidst the silence that the audience had been so gracious as to give her.

Froakie followed his trainer's lead, and the duo started to dance.

Celeana paused to think for a moment—what if I screw up?—but decided against it, telling herself that she was just here to have fun.

And fun was an understatement—she found a whole new side to communication through dancing personality—no, her sensuality was burst through into the most vibrant picture. The music streaming from the speakers was like liquid adrenaline being injected right into her bloodstream—not so strong as to freak her out, but just enough to make her heart burst open with elation.

"Bubble," she called, and Froakie let loose a steady let of coruscating globules, the large watery beads rising into the air and reflecting the steel-white of the spotlights, a myriad of dazzling colours dancing on the glassy surface of each flawless sphere.

Both trainer and Pokemon never stopped dancing, and as the bubbles burst in almost perfect time to the music, Froakie slowly progressed from the simple moves they had been performing to more complicated twists and turns,.

And when Celeana caught the little creature's eye, she saw a small ghost of a smile grace his face—one genuine and caught up in what he was doing.

The blue-haired girl had always been clumsy and awkward, but she felt that none of that  mattered in this one performance. The actions involved were crisp and simple—her clumsiness could be forgotten about for just these few minutes, and she didn't have words to stumble over this time.

Dancing really was a great way to convey emotions.

She grinned as the water-type Pokemon execute a tight, rapid spin, a tornado of bubbles cloaking his lithe body and making the motion all the more impressive.

"Let's finish this, OK?" Her voice was gentle; she didn't want Froakie to disobey her. Not now.

It was fortunate the Pokemon didn't seem to be in a bad mood—he had long been swept up in the fast-paced frenzy of a dance, and he enjoyed every last bit of it.

"Bubble, once more," she informed in a hushed voice.

The creature nodded, and instead of the fountain of tiny globules that was usually produced, Froakie instead produced a huge, transparent sphere around his tiny frame, the bubble expanding at an alarming rate and swallowing the frog-like Pokemon's figure.

The sphere rose into the air as Celeana called out yet another command. "Water Pulse."

Threads of liquid knitted themselves together at an alarmingly quick rate, forming a pulsing orb of compressed water that screamed to be let free, pushing against the smooth skin of Froakie's palms in great impatience.

The last of the remaining, smaller bubbles popped, and the trainer tapped her foot against the ground one final time, her body heaving from the exertion that had been required to put on such a show.

With the rigid silence that followed, the water-type creature smashed his palms together, the sphere of fluids losing control and exploding in a faultless ring that reduced the colossal bubble to nothing but a veil of cerulean droplets that glittered like sparkles under the searing gaze of the spotlights.

The Pokemon performed a neat landing in front of his trainer, and the two of them smiled, striking a pose and waiting for the judges to announce the end of their performance.

Finally, the crowd around them burst into applause and cheers—it wasn't the grand cacophony of praise that others had been showered with, but to her, it was more than enough.

She couldn't perform any of the complex routines that other coordinators had executed, but that was completely fine with her. Sometimes, simplicity was the best option—especially for someone like her.

They bowed, and as the duo exited the stage, Celeana offered her Pokemon a bright grin. "That was really fun, wasn't it?"

The Froakie reared his head, replying with an enthusiastic nod before pausing halfway, as if remembering the calm creature he had made himself out to be, squashing his smile into nonexistence and giving her a haughty sniff, turning away and forcing an uninterested scowl on his face.

The blue-haired girl sighed, bowing her head in defeat—their relationship did have a long way to go.

She shuffled back into the waiting room, flashing a few awkward smiles at the few trainers who had complimented her on her performance.

"...the results are coming out now!" An unfamiliar voice resounded out amidst the small crowd, and the teenager got to her feet, tiptoeing and straining to see the tiny screen behind the throng of eager people.

Thankfully, her height enabled her to get an adequate view of the TV, and she watched with bated breath as names and pictures started to appear on screen.

She didn't quite recognise most of the first fifteen faces, but there was a boy amidst the preliminary winners—someone who looked a little older and more seasoned than the rest—that she recalled seeing in a magazine somewhere.

The rookie coordinator had been so lost in thought that she'd failed to notice the last icon—hers—appearing on the lucid, cheap screen.

Celeana's mind went absolutely blank for a delicious split-second, the screws and bolts in her brain sliding to a sudden halt as every muscle in her face just froze before a beam started to creep onto her place, her eyes lighting up in ecstatic shock.

"I got in," she whispered to herself. "I got in."

• • •

"Here's the very first match of the first battling round!" The announcer grinned at the audience, dipping her head in a small bow before continuing. "On my left, it's Hoenn's Top Coordinator, returning to the spotlight after a months-long hiatus—Ruby!"

The blue-tressed girl startled—so that was why he seemed familiar.

"And on my right, we have a new face to the history of Contests—Celeana!" She marvelled at the way the emcee was able to keep the enthusiasm skyrocketing, but she had no time to mull over that.

She strode out of the corridor, taking her place at the opposite end of the arena with a meek stance.

The older trainer gave her an easygoing smile, adjusting his white hat as he fingered a Pokeball in his hand with admirable confidence. Of course, that same boldness was to be expected of someone who stood at the very top—someone who had won before and had known that very beliefs first-hand.

The timer blinked 4.59, and along with the host's almost impossible bellow of "Start!", both coordinators released the spherical gadgets in their hands.

As Froakie leapt through the wall of bubbles from the capsule, the trainer hastily made the first move, hoping to gain a slight advantage. "Use Pound to hit Bubble towards the opponent!"

Celeana then looked up at the Pokemon that Ruby had released—a slender Pokemon with glimpses of elegant, long legs that it kept veiled beneath a flowing, snow-hued gown. A pale green adorned her features, making the poised Pokemon appear even more graceful.

If anything, her Froakie didn't seem daunted by the difference in size, charging in and releasing huge quantities of frothy globules that he effortlessly batted towards his opponent.

A brief smile danced at the corners of her face—she'd thought she'd done something, but she was wrong.

Yes, she'd touched Ruby's gauge, damaging it in the slightest and making him lose a few points, but that was all.

"You're OK, Ruru," the coordinator opposite her assured. "Counter with a Magical Leaf, won't you?"

The Gardevoir nodded in obligation, gliding so fast that she'd almost teleported to Froakie's side. A swarm of virescent leaves rose behind the tall creature, glinting in the most horrible shades of blue and pink that Celeana had ever seen before diving towards the small frog.

The Froakie was sent back, landing on the cement ground with a hard thud and a battered pride. He sat up, dazed, but above all of that, he was angry.

Without waiting for his trainer's command, the water-type creature shot forward in a adrenaline-fuelled burst of speed, two orbs of gurgling water in his palms. The Pokemon crushed the two attacks against each other, producing nothing but rings of shimmering cerulean liquid that raced towards his dual-typed enemy.

Yes, it was a pretty move, but the girl had never wanted him to attack.

"That is a good attempt," Ruby mused. "It ends here, though. Ruru, would you care to entertain us with that new combination of ours?"

Nodding, the beautiful beast tilted its head with an alluring flourish, a blush-hued globe of pure power meshing together and producing a screeching hum at its very core.

Rings of magenta light danced around the opponent's Gardevoir, something Celeana almost didn't recognise as a Hypnosis attack. Her mouth opened, wanting to warn Froakie to watch out, but the entity was much more crafty than that.

Her eyes lit up in a flaming sky-blue, psychic energy shifting the flaming circles into a conical pattern and spiralling towards her water-type at an sickeningly swift rate, giving the Pokemon no time to dodge at all.

Befuddled by the winding patterns in front of him, Froakie swayed in hesitation—a fatal mistake that her opponent noticed right away.

"Now, if you'd please," the seasoned coordinator confirmed with that polite voice of his. Gardevoir didn't hesitate—the Moonblast charging in her hands ripped forth, colliding with her tiny opponent's frame at point-blank range.

Smoke clouded the entire battlefield for a few moments, and when it cleared, Celeana didn't even need to look to know the result—it was clear that Froakie couldn't take such a powerful attack.

And she was right. The water-type Pokemon was sprawled on the ground, defeated and unconscious.

As the trainer scrambled to check on the creature, Ruby called out to her. "Hey, that wasn't half bad for a newcomer, you know."

"Really?" The blue-haired teen looked up from where she had knelt, caressing Froakie's skin as gently as she could. "Thanks."

Your combinations are simple, but they're effective," the seasoned coordinator concluded. "I would recommend working on your relationship with your Froakie more, though—that, and learning more moves for different combinations wouldn't hurt."

Celeana gave him a sheepish smile in response. Yes, she had lost, and she was out, but she'd certainly learnt from such a failure.

"Thanks."

• • •

"Dammit!" Celeana pushed open the door in noticeable agitation. "The battle b—better not have ended already."

The Gym guide led her to the grandstand—it was smaller than she'd expected, the shabby seats giving off a cosy, pleasant feeling.

Below, she could make out Ryou's signature mop of messy silver hair. His trademark grin adorned his face, and his Vibrava didn't seem to be in any peril of losing.

Norman's Slaking, on the other hand, seemed tired in comparison, but the girl had heard rumours about the Pokemon's abnormal strength.

She didn't have anything to worry about, though—Vibrava more than made up for the lack of power with her untraceable speed and agility, and her lazy moves copied her trainer's personality, evading her opponent's repeated attempts to strike.

"Dragon Breath," Ryou called, and his Pokemon was too happy to comply. The dragonfly-like beast took her time to show off, doing an effortless somersault in mid-air before shooting a beam of multicoloured flames towards the Slaking.

The blue-haired teenager then felt her phone buzz, and she switched the device on, pressing the slab of metal to her ear while keeping her eyes glued to the battle in front of her.

"Hello?" A familiar voice rang in her ear—she recognised it as Nurse Joy's. "Is this Celeana Asthansia?"

Celeana watched as Vibrava's wings glowed a bright white, turning to unmistakable levels of solid steel as she took full advantage of the Pokemon's Truant ability to attack. "Yes," she answered in slow, creeping words. "Yes, I'm Celeana."

Dread crept over the trainer like an icy chill, numbing her brain in an instant. In this frozen state, her mind offered her one thought—something was up.

She watched with listlessness as Vibrava knocked her opponent out with a neatly-executed blow of Bulldoze—Ryou's battle didn't quite seem very important any more.

"I'm afraid you'll have to rush here as soon as possible. Your Ralts' operation is about to begin, but she refuses to be sedated.

• • •

wELL. I stayed up just to finish writing this chapter. This is like 3500 words omg what is wrong with me

I guess I just like writing elaborate contest scenes. xD I was going to throw in another Ryou scene, but decided that it would ruin the cliffhanger. Cliffhangers are more important than my cinnamon roll bae--//slapped

Besides that, thank you SO MUCH for 1.6K reads and 243 votes! That's about a 300+ increase in reads :o My next goal is 258! :)

Critiques are most certainly welcome, and don't forget to read, vote and give your thoughts in the comments! Please be 100% honest!

~ nyxia ☆