Mauville Gym, Hoenn Region
Wally, Aspiring Trainer.
The gym hours were running slow today. Not in a bad way, just... slower. Less buzz, more hum.
Wally stood near the back of the floor, hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket, as Wattson's voice boomed over the speakers like a man hosting a very enthusiastic game show. He was never a quiet man, always jolly, always loud.
Wally didn't hate it, but rather admired the optimism Wattson had at his age.
"Well then! Your seven-day trial is officially complete!"
Sparky was already bouncing next to him, a kinetic ball of anticipation in vaguely human form. If she'd had confetti in her pocket, she probably would've thrown it.
Wally didn't bounce. He reflected. He had always done that, gotten quiet when things were about to change.
Seven days. Somehow, they'd passed all at once and stretched forever. Time was a funny thing like that. Especially when you were sick most of your life and suddenly started running toward something instead of away from it.
He smiled faintly.
A snap of fingers broke through his thoughts.
Claire, ever composed and sharp-edged in her tailored Mauville blazer, stepped forward holding a slim folder.
"We'd like to offer both of you an official sponsorship for a League run," she said, crisp and clear. "This includes equipment support, travel funds, badge registration waivers, and continued access to Gym resources, training rooms, Pokémon specialists, logistical contacts. You'll be representing Mauville Gym."
Sparky made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whoop. "NO WAY!"
Wally blinked. "We'd be… sponsored? Like officially?"
On the surface, it was a simple proposition. Recognition. Support. A way forward.
But beneath, Wally's thoughts were already shifting gears. Sponsorship meant more than just a shiny endorsement or a fancy patch on his jacket. It meant subsidy, real, tangible relief. Travel costs weren't small, and neither were medical supplies, lodging, Poké Balls, vitamins, food… for him and the team. Even just keeping them all properly groomed and battle-ready would add up.
And then there was the unspoken perk, the one most rookie trainers didn't even think to ask about: the right to own more than six Pokémon.
For average challengers, the six-Pokémon cap was enforced through the standard League PC system, an automatic limiter unless you had Gym or Researcher credentials. But with a sponsorship, that restriction bent. A Gym could hold your overflow. Let you rotate. Train deeper.
That mattered.
Wattson chuckled. "You two have more spark than a Voltorb factory. You've earned it."
Claire continued, flipping to a second page. "You're under no contract to remain Gym-affiliated after the League season. But we would appreciate intermittent updates. And if either of you places highly, your win will reflect on the Gym, no more than that."
"So basically," Sparky said, "we get all the cool perks, train how we want, and then go become legends?"
"That's one way of phrasing it," Claire said dryly.
Wally glanced between them, then looked down at the folder again. "Can I… take a little time to think about it?"
He wasn't about to rush into signing something official without thinking. It would be an elementary mistake, like trying to catch a Voltorb without checking if it was already halfway into Self-Destruct.
Wattson raised an eyebrow, but nodded with a grin. "Of course. No great trainer ever made a big decision in a hurry. That's how we get bad gym leaders."
Later that afternoon, the sun was dipping low when Wally sat beside John on a bench outside the gym's greenhouse.
John was flipping through the folder slowly, like each page weighed more than it should. His face was calm, but Wally knew that was the same kind of calm he had when pruning a Bonsly with too many dead leaves.
"It's a good opportunity," John murmured. "You've got talent, Wally. No question. But…"
"I'm still sick," Wally finished for him, quietly.
John looked over, concerned. "That's not what I meant."
But it was there, unspoken. Wally gave a small smile.
"I'm still me, Uncle John. I know my limits. But I also know I don't want to stop here."
He paused, looking at the signature line.
"I think… I want to go further."
John didn't speak for a moment. Then he smiled, tired, fond. "Then I'm proud of you. Let's sign it."
...
The next morning, the goodbyes began.
Kirk caught him near the west entrance, holding his guitar like a battle axe. "Your theme's already half-written, kid. You'd better earn it."
Vivian, clipboard in hand, actually smiled. "If your League run is anything like your daily routine, then I am sure you would do just fine."
Claire gave a nod. "You remind me of myself, quiet, particular, and frustratingly correct."
"…Was that a compliment?"
She didn't answer. But she smirked. Something he might've imagined. A stoic, sharp woman with a dry wit? That would be too foul to exist.
Wattson wrapped him in a hug that smelled faintly of motor oil. "Don't forget to polish those Poké Balls!" he said, handing Wally a cleaning cloth that looked suspiciously like it had already been used.
Wally tucked it away. A shabby gift it may be, but it was something from the heart. He intends to cherish those.
And then there was Sparky.
They stood outside the gym's front gates, morning sun catching on the windows.
"We're rivals now," she declared, grinning. "Not just partners."
Wally tilted his head. "I figured."
"You better not get knocked out early. I want to beat you in the finals."
He smiled, just a little. "Then I guess I'll have to make it to the finals."
They bumped fists. Hers was warm. His was cold.
As the car pulled away from the gym, Wally leaned his head against the window. Ralts's Poké Ball was nestled safely in his bag, Rotom's beside it.
The building shrank behind him, but the light lingered.
Wally didn't know where the road would take him. But for once, the path ahead felt open.
And he was ready.
...
Shimmering outlier
Ralts
Ralts sat curled beneath the window bench of Wally's room, pressed into the soft cotton folds of an old hoodie. Outside, the wind stirred the trees, but inside, the silence was thick and heavy.
It hadn't eaten much since the battle.
The sounds of spoons clinking and Wally's mother softly calling from the kitchen barely registered. Its stomach didn't growl. It just… ached. Somewhere behind its horn and its chest and all through the places where thoughts tangled and turned inward.
Losing. That word rang louder than anything else now. Before, it hadn't mattered. It had been strong. Untouchable.
Shiny.
A word that made wild Pokémon flinch. That made humans stare too long or too hard. That made even other Ralts turn away with uneasy glances, like it might not be Ralts at all.
Different meant danger. Different meant it had to be stronger.
And it had been. It always had been.
Until the girl's Combusken.
Ralts hadn't stood a chance. The level difference held true and strong. A barrier that it couldn't cross.
And now… now it didn't know what to do.
It had never evolved, not because it couldn't. It had felt the pull of change before, during training. But it resisted it each time, buried it. Because when Wally had first found it, glowing too brightly in the grass, he didn't look away. He didn't try to fix it. He just… smiled. Called it beautiful.
And if it evolved… would it still be beautiful?
Would he still see it the same?
Would the bond that made everything warm and steady still hold?
The hoodie smelled like Wally, dried berries, books, and grass. Ralts pressed deeper into it, willing the thoughts away.
But they only multiplied. Faster. Meaner.
Was it selfish not to evolve? Was it pride, or fear?
Was losing proof that it wasn't strong enough, not even like this?
Would Wally-
"Hey."
The voice was warm. Always warm.
Ralts lifted its head.
Wally knelt beside the bench, arms resting on his knees. His eyes were tired, black circles visible. His smile was soft. Faint. But real.
"You're still not eating, huh?"
Ralts lowered its gaze.
Wally let out a breath, not disappointed, not annoyed, just there.
Present.
"I know it hurts." He reached a hand out slowly, palm up. "You gave everything you had. And still lost. That sucks."
Silence.
"But that's okay," Wally said softly. "Even the strongest lose. And losing just means we get to grow. Together."
Ralts blinked, staring at his open hand.
"As for evolving…" Wally hesitated, then smiled faintly. "You really thought I wouldn't notice?"
Ralts stilled, eyes wide.
"If that's something you're scared of… I understand. But evolution won't change how I feel about you. Nothing would. You don't have to stay the same to be loved."
The words hit like sunlight. Warm, sudden, and impossible to dodge.
Ralts took a trembling step forward. Then another. And then, without sound, curled into Wally's lap, horn brushing lightly against his sweater.
Wally stroked the top of its head gently.
"You're not alone," he murmured. "Never."
Ralts didn't answer.
It didn't need to.
Eventually, the tears stopped. Wally had talked a lot. Softly, patiently, about everything and nothing, before finally growing quiet. He dozed off where he sat, slumped against the wall, one hand still resting on Ralts, his fingers moving in a slow, uneven rhythm.
And when Ralts woke next, still curled up in his lap, Wally's arm draped loosely around it, it looked up.
He had stayed there. All night. With his eyes tired, his breath soft, and his hands still warm despite everything.
Something shifted in Ralts's chest.
The fear didn't go away.
But something bigger bloomed behind it.
Resolve. To protect.
Ralts closed its eyes, and let the change come.
Light shimmered from its horn, warm and pale. It pulsed outward, not loud, not sharp, gentle. Steady. Like Wally.
When the light faded, Kirlia stood there, arms hugging its chest, breathing deeply. Taller. Changed.
But not alone.
The door creaked open.
Wally's mother peeked inside, still in her housecoat, a pencil half-tucked into her bun. She froze at the sight.
"…It evolved," she breathed.
Wally stirred, blinking awake. He followed her gaze, and smiled.
"Yeah," he said, still a little hoarse from sleep. "Alice did."
Emma stepped further in, voice gentle with curiosity. "Alice?"
Wally reached up and patted Kirlia's arm softly. "Her name's Alice."
Emma blinked. "Alice?"
"Like the girl in the fairy tale," Wally murmured. "She followed something strange and wonderful and ended up somewhere impossible. But she made it through. Grew up, changed, and still kept her heart."
Kirlia stared at him, stunned.
She hadn't wanted a nickname before.
Because a name meant being something. And she had already been something too strange, too different.
But now… now it felt right.
Alice.
Unique. Not hidden. Not lesser.
A reminder that even in strangeness, even in change, she was seen.
Loved.
Wally smiled at her, that same soft, quiet certainty he always had.
"Come on," he said, voice warm with promise. "Let's show them how bright we can shine."
And this time, Alice smiled.
...
Thanks for reading~