Sinnoh region, Eterna City.
Music drifted from an old phonograph. Saxophone blues, softened by the particular warmth only vinyl could give. The room was furnished in dark rosewood. Cynthia lay stretched lazily across the sofa.
Beside her sat a striking woman with brown hair and blue eyes. Her posture stayed perfectly upright even sprawled across the couch cushions, carrying herself with the easy confidence of a nimble deer.
Diantha stubbed out a slender cigarette in a crystal ashtray. A flicker of helplessness crossed her blue eyes.
"If we're battling later you should actually rest first," she said.
Cynthia shifted into a more comfortable position and rested her cheek against Diantha's leg. "Just finished up at the Institute and I've got a flight to catch soon," she murmured. "I'll just nap a bit."
Diantha ran her fingers through Cynthia's golden hair. "Metro City University?"
Cynthia nodded like a sleepy cat and her lashes fluttered once. A moment later her breathing had already gone slow and even.
Diantha kept stroking the soft gold strands. I have work too, you know. Did you really call me over just to use my lap as a pillow?
Still, the Master League schedule ran brutal this year. With Cynthia competing she'd likely be gone a long stretch. Feeling a little mischievous, Diantha ran both hands through Cynthia's hair until it was thoroughly tousled, then covered her mouth with a yawn of her own.
A quiet afternoon. Two women of completely different temperaments, curled together as the hours drifted past.
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Twilight deepened. Diantha finally opened her eyes.
The setting sun spilled through the window. Cynthia had already changed into her familiar black trench coat, golden hair cascading down like something lit from within.
She smiled. "When I'm back we'll go shopping again."
"Sure, sure." Diantha smiled, resigned. "Safe travels."
Cynthia stepped out onto the marble terrace. A burst of red light released Togekiss, which nuzzled affectionately against her side.
A flicker of unease crossed Diantha's face. "Is your luggage sorted? Hotel confirmed?"
"Luggage is already checked in at the hotel. There's someone I want to visit first, though."
"A very cute Eevee," Cynthia said.
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July 15th, Wednesday.
Production on Plants vs. Zombies had been underway a full week now. Daniel and Luke had been trading tasks back and forth nonstop, and with the ready-made template from the parallel world to work from, progress was flying.
What actually gave Luke a headache had nothing to do with the game. It was Haunter and Eevee's continuing growth.
Through repeated use of Mimic, Eevee had fully mastered both Yawn and Iron Tail. Haunter, meanwhile, had just been named Coach of the Month at the training club and now ran a fully booked schedule.
Good news on paper. Luke wasn't thrilled about it at all.
A Pokémon's raw strength and its upkeep cost scaled together. Stronger Pokémon burned more energy in battle, which meant more food, which meant more money. Haunter's part-time earnings didn't even cover what Luke spent on Berries and Pokéblock for it. Eevee ate less overall, but Luke kept springing for rare Berries anyway since he couldn't bring himself to shortchange it either.
For someone who wasn't even a Trainer, watching his Pokémon get stronger had turned into an oddly sweet kind of financial burden.
Still, Luke never resented either of them for it. He wasn't about to hold them back from evolving just to save money. Humans and Pokémon stood as equals in his mind. He loved them both completely. The problem was never Eevee or Haunter. It was that the risk-to-reward ratio of actually being a Trainer had simply never worked out in his favor personally.
"This is getting a little too aggressive," Luke muttered, rubbing his forehead. "What happens if a Pokémon with an even bigger appetite shows up? I'd go broke overnight."
The thought of the "best-pedigree Pokémon" Coach Whitman had promised him sent a genuine shiver down his spine. What if it's some elite Munchlax? I'd combust on the spot.
"No. I can't let someone else pick this one for me," Luke said through gritted teeth. "When the time comes, I'm choosing it myself."
"There has to be at least one lazy underachiever hiding somewhere in a Breeding House that size."
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That afternoon Luke showed up to his assistant coach shift fully intending to coast through it, and ran straight into Whitman on the way in.
Whitman was beaming. "Luke, those two recruits you picked turned out excellent. You've genuinely got a sharp eye for this."
Luke's eyebrow went up. I slacked off and just ran the simplest free-for-all format available. How did that turn into a sharp eye?
Whitman kept going, clearly excited about the team's new shape. "First, that Breloom with Spore. In singles it can comfortably play either the aggressor or the anchor. And Gordon's Torkoal? Heavens, it's got Drought. Combine that with the kid's own personality and skill level and that thing could anchor the whole roster going forward."
His excitement made sense. Freshmen hadn't even started classes yet, and pulling genuine talent out of the early-admit pool was usually a long shot at best. He'd expected maybe one decent find. Instead Luke had landed two in a single afternoon, on top of taking such visibly focused notes throughout.
Whitman felt genuinely lucky to have brought him on. The team had struck gold.
"Keep this up, help stabilize our league ranking, and that bonus is basically guaranteed," Whitman said, laughing, clapping him on the shoulder.
Luke just looked baffled. My eye for talent is... actually good?
He glanced over at the Torkoal on the field and found himself nodding along despite himself. Torkoal — affectionately nicknamed "Little Groudon" by fans — served as a premier attacker under Sunny Day and performed just as well under Trick Room. Metro City University's system had always leaned heavily on Psychic-based Trick Room teams. Adding these two freshmen wouldn't just deepen the roster's synergy. It would also patch a real coverage gap.
"Of course I nailed it," Luke said, smacking his own forehead. "I picked the two best candidates without even trying."
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The College League typically ran in the second half of each year and stayed open to first- and second-year Pokémon majors. Third-years, busy chasing Gym challenges and Orient Alliance qualification, were barred from entering. By age and skill level Luke technically qualified without issue.
He had zero interest in actually competing, though. Assistant coach, sure. Actual competitor, absolutely not. Underperform and he'd take the blame personally. Worse, if either of his two Pokémon got hurt in the process, none of it would be worth it.
He scooped up Eevee — mid-ambush on the unsuspecting Torkoal — and settled it onto his shoulder. He was heading out when Whitman called after him.
"Oh, right — Luke, are you catching the Master League next Saturday? Team's covering one ticket per person. I'll set one aside for you."
Luke frowned. The Master League was being held at the Eastern Battle Tower, and he'd already checked ticket prices online. Standard admission ran $430.
Just $430 a ticket? Does Teacher Luke really need someone else covering that for him?
"Sure," Luke said, breaking into a wide grin. "Could I get three?"
Front row didn't matter much to him either way. What mattered was bringing Eevee and Haunter along too.