Petalburg City, Hoenn Region
Normal-Type Gym.
The gym was quiet this time of day, the kind of quiet Norman usually found comforting. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting golden stripes across the polished floorboards. The trophies and framed photos along the walls caught the light in quiet glints—reminders of a hundred hard-fought battles, and just as many handshakes.
But today, the silence pressed against his chest.
He stood near the center of the room, arms crossed, watching the young girl before him—his daughter. May.
She looked more like her mother every year. Sharp blue eyes, arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding something in. He wanted to say something gentle. Soften the air between them. Instead, it came out awkward.
"Ah, May? You and your mother settled in okay?" His voice was steady enough, warm even—but he heard the hesitation behind it.
May's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah, we did. Thanks for helping," she replied, clipped and cool.
Norman scratched the back of his neck. Careful. He could already feel her frustration crackling beneath the surface. "I know things have been tough lately…"
"Dad," she cut in, sharp as a Razor Leaf. "Quit talking to me like I'm ten."
He flinched. Not visibly, he hoped. But it hit. A pang of guilt lodged itself right between his ribs.
He started to answer—You're right. I've been gone too much. I should've called more. I know. But the words jammed up in his throat. So instead, he pivoted.
"I see you've got your Pokémon with you," he said, nodding toward the Pokéball clipped to her belt. "Planning to become a Trainer, huh?"
She held his gaze, firm as ever. "Yeah. It's one way I can beat you."
He almost smiled at that—almost. The familiar flicker of pride and pain stirred beneath his ribs. That same fire in her voice. Good. She'll be strong. Stronger than me, maybe.
But before he could say anything, the gym door creaked open, interrupting them.
A gym assistant stepped in with a shallow bow. "Leader Norman, there's a spirited boy at the gates. He's insistent on speaking with you. I thought it best to let you know."
Norman blinked, grateful for the interruption. "A boy, huh? Alright, send him in." He kept his tone light, even cheerful. But inside, he felt the relief. He wasn't ready to finish this talk with May—not yet.
The assistant vanished, her footsteps fading. Norman turned back to his daughter.
"We'll pick this up later, alright?" he offered gently.
May's arms stayed crossed. "Sure. After your 'business,'" she said, voice flat, before retreating to the bench in the corner. She sat down with a huff and turned away.
Norman sighed. She's not wrong. I've been hiding behind this job too long.
But the doors opened again before he could spiral too far.
A boy entered—green hair, pale as morning light, and delicate like he'd been raised inside. But there was something about him… not fragile, exactly. Composed. Calm. He walked with a quietness that felt deliberate. Humming something—an unfamiliar little tune, barely there.
Norman raised an eyebrow. "Not a Trainer, I assume?" he said with a chuckle. "You look a little young to be here for a battle."
The boy smiled faintly. "Not yet," he replied, voice soft but clear. "You'd have to wait a few months for me to challenge you."
Norman couldn't help but chuckle. He's got wit, this one. "Fair enough. So, what brings you to the gym, little almost-Trainer?"
"I'm Wally, from next door," the boy said with a small nod. "My uncle might have mentioned me?"
Norman blinked. The name clicked. "Wally!" he exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "Right! Your uncle did mention you. You're here to get a Pokémon, aren't you?"
Wally nodded, his whole face brightening. "Yes, sir. I'll be moving to Verdanturf Town soon, and I was hoping to catch a Pokémon to keep me company."
Norman folded his arms thoughtfully. Verdanturf, huh. That's a calm place… clean air, good for kids like him. "Makes sense you'd want some company," he said, then glanced toward the corner where May sat. An idea formed.
"May," he called. "You heard that, right? Why don't you go with Wally and help him catch his first Pokémon?"
May's head snapped up. "Seriously, Dad? You're just trying to dodge our talk!"
Norman lifted his hands slightly, like it would smooth things over. "Of course not, dear," he said—too quickly. Too casually.
Before she could shoot back, he turned to Wally and handed him a Pokéball from his belt. "Here. I'll lend you one of my Pokémon to help you out. And take this Poké Ball to catch your new friend."
Wally accepted both with quiet grace. "Thank you, Leader Norman."
Norman gave them both a firm nod, clapping his hands together. "Great! Off you go, then. Don't keep us waiting too long, alright?"
May glared at him, heat still in her eyes. "We're not done, Dad. We'll settle this next time," she snapped as she followed Wally out.
Norman raised a hand in a small wave, watching the door shut behind them.
The silence returned. This time it felt emptier.
He stood still a moment longer, then let out a long sigh. It echoed softly against the gym walls.
"Next time," he murmured.
...
Hoenn Region
Route 102
May, Aspiring Trainer
May let out a sharp huff, turning away from the words still ringing in her ears—her father's dismissiveness, his casual command to "just take the boy" like she had nothing better to do. The tall grass swayed around her knees, whispering secrets she didn't want to hear.
"Sorry," she muttered, not looking at the boy walking beside her. "You shouldn't have heard that."
The boy—Wally—didn't miss a beat. "It's not a problem," he said, and his voice was soft. Soothing, even. Like it wasn't the first time he'd heard someone talk that way.
May's teeth pressed together. The apology burned on her tongue, but so did the anger, and the latter won out.
"It is a problem," she snapped. "My dad should've been the one helping you catch your first Pokémon. Not me. But of course, he's too busy. Always is. Gym Leader Norman, too important to look his own daughter in the eye."
She expected Wally to flinch, or retreat behind that gentle voice of his. But he didn't. He just blinked, the sunlight catching in his pale green hair. His expression stayed calm—almost too calm for a boy his age.
"I don't mind," he said. "I think you'll guide me just as well. Maybe even better."
She glanced sideways at him, skepticism flaring. But then again, maybe he wasn't just being polite. There was something about the way he said it—like he meant every word. Her lip twitched.
"Smooth talker, huh?" she teased, flashing the sharp edge of a grin. The kind she wore like armor.
Wally chuckled quietly, the sound light and unhurried. "Not really."
There was a pause, a quiet pocket of air between them. Just the wind brushing the tall grass and the crunch of their boots on the dirt path. May kicked a pebble, watching it bounce and vanish into the brush.
"Family stuff sucks," she said finally, softer this time. "Dad's always been obsessed with his 'duties.' He didn't even visit once after we moved to Petalburg. My mom pretends it's fine, but I can tell it eats her up."
She tried to laugh, but it came out bitter and hollow.
"That's why I'm training. Working hard. I want to face him someday and win. If I can beat him—really beat him—maybe he'll finally see me. Maybe it'll actually mean something."
Her voice trailed off. She clenched her fists, embarrassed at the rawness that had slipped through. It wasn't like her to go soft in front of strangers. Or anyone.
She turned to Wally, her lips already pulling into an apologetic smirk.
"Ugh, sorry. That was way more than you signed up for, huh?"
But Wally shook his head, his voice as steady as ever. "It's okay. Sometimes it's better to let it out."
She blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. Not fake, not pitying. Just… there. Like a stone in a river—small, but unshakable.
"And for what it's worth," he added, "I think you'll make an amazing Trainer. You'll beat him. I believe that."
May studied him. His pale face still bore traces of fatigue. He looked like a strong gust might blow him over. But his eyes—soft as they were—held a strange certainty. He meant it.
"You really are something, Wally," she said, her grin returning. "You don't even know me."
"I'd bet on it anyway," he replied, lips curving upward.
She snorted. "Careful. That's how you lose money."
Wally leaned in, glancing left and right with mock caution, like he was about to share a dangerous secret. She played along, leaning toward him.
"I know the future," he whispered, his smile mischievous.
May arched a brow. "Oh yeah? Psychic, are you?"
Wally's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just messing with you."
"You cheeky little—" May laughed and gave him a playful shove, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. But then, he didn't deny it. And somehow, that was the part that stuck in her head.
"Alright then, Mr. Know-the-Future," she challenged. "What kind of Pokémon are you going to catch today?"
"Ralts," Wally answered instantly.
She blinked. "Ralts? You're serious? I've trained in this field for weeks and haven't seen a single one."
He just smiled. That same calm, eerie confidence. "Don't be surprised when we do."
May shook her head with a smirk, crossing her arms. "Alright. Let's see if the universe is really playing favorites."
The trees ahead parted into a stretch of wild grass, and the two of them stepped in. The air smelled like loam and honeysuckle. Birds chirped overhead, but the rustle of the grass beneath their steps seemed louder. More immediate.
"Pokémon hide in places like this," May murmured, her voice instinctively lowering. "Keep your eyes open."
Wally didn't answer. When she looked back, he was already pale and sweating. He looked as if he'd been pulled from water—gasping, limp, like a Magikarp flung onto dry land.
"Wally?" she asked, slowing. "You okay? We can rest—"
But he waved her off. His smile returned, strained but still determined.
"It's just an old problem. We're almost there."
She hesitated, uncertain. He looked like a light breeze could knock him over. But something about the way he said it made her hold back. He wanted this.
Then the grass ahead shifted.
They both froze. May reached instinctively toward her belt, but stopped when the movement stilled—and revealed something small, strange, and glowing.
A Ralts.
Its fine blue hair shimmered faintly. The red horn caught the sun like a shard of ruby. It stood silently, motionless, as if waiting.
May's breath caught.
She turned to Wally, wide-eyed.
He looked up, as if sensing her gaze, and that familiar, cheeky smirk curled on his lips.
"Told you," he said.
...
Thanks for reading~