Auron gave a wry smile. "Alright, I forgot we sell Berries at my family's shop too. Tell the clerk you've been talking to, and once I've got everything ready, I'll let you know. You can pick them up yourself, or I'll have someone deliver them for you."
"Okay, sounds good!" Lena responded cheerfully.
The five of them gathered together, chatting and laughing. Their lively mood stood out sharply against the tense atmosphere filling the rest of the room. No one really understood why Lena, who was supposed to be a Ghost-type Trainer, didn't have the usual ghostly aura. Instead, she was bright, outgoing, and always joking around. Most people imagined Ghost-type Trainers as shy and introverted, like Simon, or cold and reserved, barely saying a word. Lena completely shattered that stereotype for Auron and the others.
Before long, the announcement echoed through the lounge—the matches were about to start. Everyone's wrist devices lit up at the same time, each person glancing down at their number.
Auron's display showed a seven. That meant his opponent would be whoever had number eight. Both the sixty-to-thirty and thirty-to-fifteen rounds were held on small battlefields, just like the elimination rounds—ten matches at a time, with one match randomly selected for broadcast and live commentary.
There wasn't enough time to do each battle one by one, and since the students hadn't started their break yet, the tournament had to be squeezed into Saturday and Sunday. If every round was a single match, there just wouldn't be enough hours in the day. That's why, for the Baby Cup, it was only from the final fifteen onward that the battles and commentary became single, full-focus matches.
"What about you guys? What numbers did you get?" Auron asked.
Jace grinned. "Twenty-one."
Serena said, "Forty-three."
Tim looked up from his device. "I'm number one."
Simon murmured, "Fifteen."
Lena pouted. "…Sixty. I'm in the last group. That means I'll be waiting forever."
Seeing her expression, the others couldn't help but laugh.
Auron stuck his fist into the middle of the group. "Well, at least none of us are matched up in the first round. Let's give it our all!"
"Let's do this!" Everyone bumped fists—even Simon, though he didn't say anything, just quietly joined in.
After their little pre-match ritual, Tim, Simon, and Auron had to head to the field—they were all in the first batch of twenty.
"Trainers, take your positions. Send out your Pokémon!"
Auron called out his Munchlax and bumped fists with it. "Let's go, buddy!"
"Munch—lax!" came the eager reply.
His opponent sent out a Turtwig. It was the same Turtwig Auron had faced in the eliminations—the one he'd struggled to defeat.
Pokémon: Turtwig
Gender: Male
Type: Grass
Ability: Overgrow (Grass-type moves get stronger when HP is low)
Potential: Blue tier
Basic Moves: Tackle, Withdraw, Absorb, Razor Leaf
Egg Moves: Heavy Slam, Growth, Uproar
Auron frowned as he read Turtwig's info on his device, but then relaxed. With moves like those, Turtwig shouldn't have been able to win ten straight matches to get here. Then it hit him—ranking high enough by points, not just win streaks, also earned a spot in the main tournament. This Turtwig must have gotten in that way.
With a sharp whistle, the match began.
"Turtwig—use Growth!"
"Munchlax—Metronome!"
Turtwig began soaking up sunlight, slowly growing larger. Munchlax, meanwhile, stood on the spot and wagged its finger. Suddenly, it burst forward in a blur, Metronome having called up [Quick Attack].
Turtwig, now bigger and less agile, didn't stand a chance of dodging the sudden rush.
"Tur… twig!" The poor thing was sent flying, landing hard on the turf. Auron grinned—thanks to Metronome, Munchlax had managed to close the distance right away. Now things would be much easier.
"Munchlax—Fire Punch!"
"Turtwig—Absorb!"
Turtwig scrambled to its feet, mouth opening to try and sap some energy. But before it could even get close, Munchlax's fist erupted in flames and sent Turtwig flying again. This time, the little Grass-type went down in a heap, swirls spinning in its eyes.
"Turtwig is unable to battle—Munchlax wins!"
"And there you have it, folks! One [Fire Punch] from Munchlax, and Turtwig is down for the count! Amazing! That's one powerful Fire Punch—it's a knockout in a single hit! Victory to Munchlax!!"
Right as Munchlax's fist ignited, the broadcast switched to Auron's battlefield, and everyone watching got to see the knockout in real time.
While the commentator's voice rang out in excitement, Auron simply recalled Munchlax, calm as ever, and walked off the field.
In the stands, Grandpa Flint stroked his beard and turned to Ashen.
"That Munchlax is impressive. Did you pick it for him? It must be a cut above the usual starters."
Ashen smiled warmly. "Nope, he chose that Munchlax himself. I didn't even pick his starter for him—he made that call too. It was a Zubat—well, it's a Golbat now."
Grandpa Flint's hand paused. "So he picked them both himself, huh? That Munchlax really is something. But I wonder how strong his Golbat is."
Ashen grinned. "It's not bad at all. From what Auron says, Golbat thinks of itself as Munchlax's big brother. I'd bet Golbat is even stronger than Munchlax by now, though it's funny—Golbat's a girl, but she insists on being the 'big bro.'"
The two old men chuckled, while Auron's mom just looked on, wondering what they were laughing about.
Auron headed back to the waiting lounge and high-fived Serena at the door.
"Starting off strong!" they both said, exchanging grins.
Lena, off to the side, was still pouting about her late match number.
The three of them took their seats, listening to the commentary and watching the live feeds from the different arenas. Soon, the camera zoomed in on Tim's match at Arena One.
The announcer was hyped up. "Take a look, folks! The number one Trainer is sending out a truly rare pseudo-legend—Dragonair! And his opponent? A Graveler, Rock- and Ground-type. Dragonair attacks first, launching a swift [Aqua Jet] straight at Graveler as it's using [Defense Curl]!"
"Too bad [Aqua Jet] is a physical move—despite being four-times effective, it just isn't enough to make a dent against Graveler's insane defense. Graveler's [Defense Curl] goes off, and—wait—next up is [Rollout]!"
"Here comes [Rollout]! With [Defense Curl], it's dealing double the damage. If Graveler keeps going, not even Dragonair will be able to take that punishment. How will Dragonair respond?"
"It's [Water Pulse]! Dragonair fires off a [Water Pulse], landing a direct hit as Graveler rolls in. Can Graveler withstand the special four-times effective move?"
"And the result is in! Graveler goes down! Dragonair wins! That's the power of a pseudo-legend—just incredible!"
Lena, still resting her chin on her hand, muttered, "The referee must be talented. Only he could make rookie matches this exciting."
Auron chuckled. "It's his job, after all. He's gotta keep the audience pumped."