Mountain springs flowed gently under the luminous glow of the full moon, its silver radiance painting the world in a pristine, ethereal light. Time trickled like water along the riverbed, carrying away the two months that had passed.
This was a remote mountain region, untouched by human presence. Nightfall marked the time when wild Pokémon emerged to hunt, and without powerful guardians, humans would struggle to survive here. Yet, amidst this untamed wilderness, a small creek meandered softly, its pebbles reflecting the moonlight as if the clear waters themselves had transformed into shimmering silver.
By the riverside stood a petite woman in a loosely worn kimono, its sash undone. A delicate fragrance lingered around her, as though the stream had been infused with scattered petals.
She lifted her fair feet and stepped into the cool water, shivering slightly at its touch. But she steeled herself and waded deeper until she reached the center of the creek.
On either bank, a Vileplume and a Bellossom stood guard, vigilant against any wild Pokémon that might approach.
Living in the wild for too long inevitably left one feeling grimy—something no girl could tolerate. Every couple of days, a thorough wash was necessary to soothe both body and mind.
Erika sighed softly, reminiscing. Back when she had first set out as a rookie trainer, the very idea of bathing in the wild had been unthinkable. Survival alone had been a struggle; luxuries like comfort were distant fantasies.
But times had changed. Even during this intense training journey, she now had the means to indulge in small comforts. Food and drink were secondary—cleanliness was non-negotiable for a girl.
How strange it was. What had started as a hesitant interaction, spurred by Misty's suggestion, had gradually drawn her in.
The boy was exceptional—unyielding in will, though he often acted as if everything bored him, as though he were merely going through the motions. But Erika knew better. That indifference was just a façade. Beneath it lay a relentless spirit, someone who pushed himself tirelessly without ever slacking.
A man devoted to his pursuits naturally drew a woman's gaze. Erika was the heiress of Celadon City's prestigious aristocracy, its Gym Leader—but she was also a woman in the prime of her youth.
Back when she was just a noble daughter, suitors from prominent families had flocked to her, vying for her favor. But young Erika had been oblivious to romance, unwilling to let such distractions hinder her grand dream—to become a truly exceptional trainer.
She had cast aside her privileged life, embracing the very real possibility of death. Despite her parents' conflicted emotions—both hopeful and resistant—she had abandoned luxury without hesitation, setting out into the dazzling yet perilous world of Pokémon with only a tiny Oddish as her starter.
Those two years of hardship were memories she preferred not to revisit. They held no sweetness, only pain—physical and emotional. Most trainers traveled in groups, but Erika had chosen the hardest path: going alone.
Back then, she had been just an ordinary fifteen-year-old girl. Beyond the aristocratic etiquette drilled into her and the Pokémon knowledge she had self-studied, she was a true novice.
She knew nothing of proper battles, nor did she have survival skills. No matter how much theory she had memorized, practice was a different beast altogether.
That young girl endured suffering beyond imagination, clawing her way toward success through sheer effort.
Her strong showing at the Indigo Plateau Conference had been her triumphant return, a homecoming in glory. After further rigorous training, she had defeated the former Gym Leader in an official challenge, securing the highest honor a city could offer—the title of Gym Leader.
At that moment, she had stood at the pinnacle of her life. Her ancient family, too, had reached new heights because of her.
Yet, ironically, her success had closed the door to romance. The elite young men who had once pursued her now kept their distance. The status of a Gym Leader was beyond their reach—an insurmountable gap, the greatest class divide in this world: the chasm between ordinary people and trainers.
The boys around her grew fewer, their admiration now tinged with hesitation. As for the bold few who still dared to chase her? Erika found them utterly lacking. She wasn't some desperate spinster—why would she settle for just anyone?
A young girl's heart always yearned for poetry. At seventeen or eighteen, she was at the age where love bloomed brightest.
Unlike Misty, who had journeyed to inherit her parents' Cerulean Gym out of duty; unlike Brock, who had become a trainer to lift his family from poverty; unlike Sabrina, forced into training to control her unstable psychic powers—Erika had chosen this path purely of her own will. No coercion, no ulterior motives.
She simply wanted to be a trainer.
Her heart was stronger and more determined than anyone else's.
So, when she met a boy who stirred something within her, she cast aside feminine reserve and pursued him actively. Even if it was just a flicker of affection, she refused to let cowardice make her regret inaction.
Seize what you desire first—that was her life's creed.
Yet Erika also knew her boldness stemmed partly from overwhelming pressure. The fate of Kanto rested on her shoulders—a burden no girl should bear alone. No matter how calm she appeared, the weight was crushing.
She was still a girl. She longed for someone to share that weight, to be the pillar she could lean on.
She wanted to indulge, to vent—to release the agony festering inside her.
Footsteps approached, light in the silent night.
Ryuuske walked along the creek, hands in his pockets, until he beheld a scene straight from a painter's masterpiece.
Moonlight bathed the girl's fair skin as she stood in the water, her silhouette glowing like a goddess bathing under the celestial glow.
No—given her grace, she was more akin to the legendary Princess Kaguya descended from the moon.
Erika's kimono draped loosely over her, barely worn at all. Hearing his steps, she didn't flinch. Instead, she turned with the same serene smile.
And then Ryuuske saw it—the near-naked form of the girl, half-concealed yet utterly revealed.
Water droplets trailed down her skin. His throat moved in a slow, involuntary swallow.
To be continued…
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