As the first half of the knockout round came to an end, most of the trainers in the lounge were already gone. The number of contestants had been halved from 50 to 25, and Kiyomi Tsugumi was among those who advanced.
At that moment, Kiyomi found himself glancing at a boy seated in the left corner of the lounge. He looked slightly older than Kiyomi, with sky-blue hair, dark green eyes, and gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. A faint, relaxed smile lingered on his face—strikingly different from the tension visible on everyone else's. That calm confidence made Kiyomi uneasy.
The second half of the tournament was about to begin. Since 25 participants remained, one person would automatically advance due to an empty draw. Kiyomi didn't think much about that—after all, when had luck ever been on his side?
Like before, he reached into the box and pulled out a card without looking. When he opened his palm, the number on it read: 1.
Kiyomi quietly returned to his seat, knowing his match would likely come up first again. As expected, the announcement soon called for contestants numbered 1 through 4.
He stood up from his chair and followed the staff to the ring. This time, his opponent was a girl with neatly trimmed bangs and her long hair tied into a single ponytail with a rubber band.
"Let's go, Zubat!" she called out confidently.
"I guess we'll play with you," Kiyomi said casually, releasing Charmeleon from its Poké Ball.
"Trainers, prepare for battle! The countdown begins: 3… 2… 1… Start!"
"I'll go first!" the girl declared. "Zubat, fly up and use Supersonic!"
The Zubat, which had been resting on the ground, flapped its wings and quickly took to the air. Its eyeless face opened wide, revealing rows of sharp fangs, and it let out visible waves of sound from its mouth.
"Charmeleon, Smokescreen!" Kiyomi commanded, deciding to hide its location first.
But the sound waves traveled too quickly. Before Charmeleon could react fully, the attack struck. However, it managed to exhale a thick black smoke that quickly enveloped the field, obscuring everything.
Hovering in the air, Zubat suddenly lost track of its opponent.
"Zubat, use sound waves to locate the target!" the girl ordered.
Smart. Zubat couldn't see, but it could use echolocation. If it could hear Charmeleon's movement, it might still find him.
So this is what real battles are like, Kiyomi thought. The anime made it seem much easier. In truth, all trainers—strong or weak—rely on tactical use of their Pokémon's skills.There was no time to hesitate. He had to think fast.
"Charmeleon, Roar—and do it loud," Kiyomi said, eyes lighting up.
If Zubat relied on sound to track its opponent, what would happen if Charmeleon flooded the arena with noise?
Suddenly, from within the smoke, an earsplitting roar erupted.
Even the audience outside the ring instinctively covered their ears from the sharp, grating noise.
High above, Zubat let out a screech of pain. The overwhelming sound stunned its sensitive ears, throwing it off balance in midair.
"Now, Metal Claw—take it down!"
A red blur shot out from the edge of the smoke. Charmeleon rushed forward, launching itself into the air beneath the disoriented Zubat. Its claws, now hardened into shimmering steel, took the shape of a hammer-like fist. With a powerful swing, it smashed Zubat straight to the ground.
Dust burst upward, rising a meter or two into the air. When it settled, Zubat lay on the ground, fainted.
Kiyomi had won.
It hadn't been too difficult. Still, he didn't leave the ring right away. His eyes scanned the area. He was looking for the boy he'd been watching earlier—the one with the gold-rimmed glasses. That boy had drawn number 3 and left the lounge with him.
Kiyomi glanced at the other rings. Two were still in the middle of their matches, with trainers shouting commands. But the fourth ring was already empty.
His pupils narrowed. That match had ended quickly—too quickly.
There could be only one explanation: the gap in strength between the two trainers had been enormous.
Suddenly, Kiyomi felt no joy from his own victory. He walked off the stage slowly, his heart heavier than before.
After this round, only 13 trainers would remain. One of them would again get a free pass to the next stage, leaving 12 fighters. Kiyomi knew what that meant—a 1 in 12 chance of facing that boy next.
He had no idea how strong the boy truly was—but everything about him screamed dangerous.
Sure enough, when Kiyomi reentered the lounge, the boy was already there, seated calmly in a chair, lost in thought.
Maybe Kiyomi had stared too long, because the boy soon noticed his gaze. He looked up and—rather than returning suspicion—smiled gently.
The boy's name was Suzuki Go. He'd begun his journey a year earlier than Kiyomi and had once made it to the Top 12 at a major League Conference. This year, he was aiming for the Top 4.
While traveling through Kanto, he had stopped by Cerulean City for a break. He came across this tournament by chance and decided to enter, hoping to earn a little extra money for the road.
When he noticed Kiyomi watching him during the match, he had been reminded of himself as a new trainer. That's why he'd smiled—a gesture of encouragement from a senior to a junior.
Seeing that kindness, Kiyomi relaxed a little and smiled back. Then he found a seat and sat down quietly.
The tournament proceeded in phases. After a short break, the next knockout round would begin.
The 13 contestants would be reduced to 7. Once again, one participant would get a free pass to the next stage. This time, Kiyomi drew number 6.
His round wasn't first—he was scheduled for the second wave.
Soon, the first match announcements went out. Kiyomi's heart sank—Suzuki Go hadn't moved. He was still seated, meaning his number would be called soon. That meant they'd be in the same group.
Please don't let us face each other yet, Kiyomi thought, at least not until the finals.
But there was no point in worrying about it. All he could do was hope.
As he sat deep in thought, the matches from the first round ended quickly. At this point, most trainers weren't holding anything back—they went all-in from the start. Battles were decided by sheer power and endurance, not clever tactics.
Soon, the announcer called Kiyomi's number.
He stood up quietly. It was time for the next match.