Kasumi stared at her phone's calendar, anxiety tightening her chest. Two weeks until Cerulean City's Contest. Fourteen days to perfect routines she'd been conceptualizing for months but never performed under official conditions. The gap between theory and practice felt insurmountable.
"Stop spiraling," she told herself. Then immediately checked the calendar again.
"You're doing the thing," Miyuki said from across the suite's common area. She looked up from her breeding notes, golden eyes knowing. "The anxiety spiral. I recognize it because I do the same thing."
"I'm not spiraling. I'm preparing."
"You've checked your calendar seventeen times since breakfast."
Kasumi set down her phone with exaggerated care. "I need to train. Actual Contest Hall practice, not just RV rehearsals. Gardevoir's Moonblast timing is still off, and Butterfree's Sleep Powder dispersal isn't consistent enough for competition standards."
"So find a practice facility," Kiyomi said without looking up from her laptop. "Pewter has a Contest Hall. They run practice sessions for traveling Coordinators."
Kasumi pulled up the Hall's website. Practice slots available, open gym format, multiple Coordinators sharing space. Professional coaches on staff. Equipment rental for stage props and lighting effects.
Perfect. And terrifying.
"I'm going," she announced, standing abruptly. "Right now. Before I talk myself out of it."
Miyuki smiled. "Want company?"
"No. Yes... Maybe?" Kasumi grabbed her bag, checked that all five Pokeballs were secure. "I need to do this alone. Prove I can handle professional environments without hand-holding."
"That's growth," Kiyomi said approvingly. "Text if you need rescue."
The Pewter Contest Hall occupied a converted theater in the arts district, smaller than major city venues but well-maintained. Red curtains framed the entrance, holographic displays showing upcoming Contest schedules. Kasumi pushed through the doors into a lobby buzzing with activity.
Coordinators everywhere. Young and old, rookies and veterans, all moving with purpose. Some clustered around notice boards checking practice schedules. Others reviewed footage on tablets, analyzing performances frame by frame. The energy was intense, competitive, nothing like the casual atmosphere of her RV rehearsals.
"First time here?" The receptionist was maybe twenty-five, with the friendly efficiency of someone who handled nervous Coordinators daily.
"Yes. I need practice time. How does this work?"
"Sign in, register your Pokemon, pay the facility fee. Practice runs in two-hour blocks, you share stage space with other Coordinators but get dedicated time slots for full routines. Coaches are available for consultation at extra cost." She handed over a form. "Fill this out."
Kasumi completed the paperwork, registered her five Pokemon, paid the modest fee. The receptionist assigned her Block C, starting in thirty minutes, and directed her to the preparation area.
Backstage felt cramped compared to her imagination. Coordinators occupied every corner, working with their Pokemon. A girl with pink hair practiced synchronized dance moves with her Jigglypuff. Two boys argued over lighting cues for their double performance. In the corner, someone's Beautifly performed aerial loops while its trainer recorded footage.
Kasumi found an empty space, released her Pokemon. Gardevoir materialized first, elegant and composed. Then Butterfree, wings catching the fluorescent light. Espeon appeared, immediately grooming its forked tail. Glaceon shook its fur, ice crystals forming in the air. Finally Togekiss, hovering above the chaos with serene grace.
"Alright team," Kasumi said quietly. "This is practice for the real thing. No pressure, but also all the pressure because we need to be ready in two weeks!"
Gardevoir placed a reassuring hand on Kasumi's shoulder. The Psychic-type could sense her trainer's anxiety, offering wordless support.
"Block C starting in five minutes," a voice called over the intercom. "Stage positions, please."
Kasumi watched from the wings as Block B finished. A Coordinator with a Milotic performed an aquatic routine, water manipulation creating flowing sculptures while the Pokemon moved through them like living art. Beautiful. Professional. The kind of quality Kasumi aspired to match.
When Block B ended, three Coordinators moved onto stage for Block C. Kasumi took position stage left, giving herself space to work without interfering with others. The stage lights activated, bright and hot, nothing like her RV's gentle bulbs.
"Block C, you have two hours," the stage manager announced. "Rotate every fifteen minutes. Use your time efficiently."
Kasumi started with Gardevoir. "Psychic into Moonblast combination. Ready?"
Gardevoir nodded, moving to center stage. Its Psychic energy manifested as purple waves, lifting small props the Hall provided for practice. Then Moonblast, a sphere of fairy energy that should integrate with the Psychic display, creating a unified visual effect.
Except the timing was off. Moonblast launched half a second too early, disrupting the Psychic waves instead of enhancing them. The props fell.
"Again," Kasumi said.
They ran it five times. Each attempt improved marginally, but something still felt wrong. The transition wasn't smooth, two separate moves instead of one flowing combination.
Across the stage, she caught someone watching. Another Coordinator, maybe a year older, with long pink hair and sharp green eyes. She stood with perfect posture, arms crossed, expression somewhere between amused and condescending.
Kasumi tried to ignore her. "One more time, Gardevoir. Let's get this right."
This attempt was better. Gardevoir synchronized the moves, Moonblast launching precisely as Psychic waves peaked. But the visual effect still looked disjointed.
"You're fighting against yourself," a voice said. The pink-haired girl had approached, confident stride eating up stage space. "Psychic and Moonblast are both powerful moves, but you're treating them as separate Actions. They need to be one Action with two components."
Kasumi bristled at unsolicited advice. "I'm working on it."
"Clearly." The girl smiled, not warmly. "I'm Sakura Haruno. Saffron City. Three ribbons already, aiming for my fourth in Cerulean." She gestured at Gardevoir. "Your Pokemon is excellent, great conditioning, perfect form. But your choreography is amateur."
"Thanks for the input," Kasumi said through gritted teeth.
"First Contest?" Sakura asked, somehow making it sound like an insult. "How cute. Just try not to embarrass yourself too badly. Cerulean judges are harsh on rookies."
She walked away before Kasumi could respond, returning to her own practice space where a Bellossom waited. Sakura immediately launched into a complex routine, Petal Dance with perfect timing, transitioning into Solar Beam that lit up the stage. Professional quality, no wasted movement.
Kasumi's competitive side flared to life. She'd been nervous before. Now? Now she was determined.
"Forget smooth transitions," she told Gardevoir. "Let's make it powerful. Psychic first, full strength, create dramatic tension. Then Moonblast as the release, explosive impact. Not flowing, contrasting."
They tried it. This time, Psychic built pressure visibly, props hovering in increasingly unstable orbit. Then Moonblast launched with deliberate force, scattering the Psychic energy in a burst of light and color. The effect was dramatic, aggressive, nothing like the gentle flow she'd originally envisioned.
But it worked.
"Better!" someone called from the wings. "Much better!"
Kasumi turned. An older woman, maybe fifty, with gray-streaked hair and the relaxed confidence of someone who'd been doing this forever, approached the stage. "That contrast was excellent. You abandoned smooth for impactful, which suits your Gardevoir's power level better than trying to be delicate."
"Who are you?" Kasumi asked.
"Ayame. Former Grand Festival competitor, now I coach here part-time." She examined Gardevoir with professional interest. "Your Pokemon has the presence for aggressive performances. Don't waste that trying to be cute."
Kasumi felt validation wash over her. "The move was originally supposed to be smooth."
"And it wasn't working because that's not your style. Good Coordinators adapt to their Pokemon's strengths, not force Pokemon to adapt to preconceived routines." Ayame pulled out a tablet. "What else are you working on?"
Kasumi showed her the other routines, Butterfree's sleep-based performance, Espeon's future sight display, Glaceon's winter wonderland, Togekiss's aerial dramatics. Ayame watched each one, took notes, offered immediate feedback.
"Butterfree needs tighter wing beats during Quiver Dance, rhythm is inconsistent. Espeon's Future Sight timing is perfect but add more buildup before the reveal. Glaceon has natural grace, lean into that. And Togekiss..." Ayame paused, considering. "Togekiss is your showstopper. That Ancient Power combination has Grand Festival potential if you perfect it."
"Really?"
"The floating stone effect is visually stunning, and Air Slash adds dramatic tension. But you need music. Coordinators who don't match routines to music lose half their impact." Ayame pulled up her tablet. "I'm booking you a coaching session. Tomorrow, two hours. I'll teach you basic choreography theory and help you select music for each routine."
"I can't afford-"
"First session free for promising rookies. After that, we negotiate." Ayame smiled. "I've been coaching for twenty years. I know talent when I see it. You're rough, but you have something most Coordinators lack, genuine connection with your Pokemon. They trust you completely. That's not teachable."
Kasumi felt emotions surge, gratitude, relief, renewed determination. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. Tomorrow I'm going to work you until you want to quit." Ayame walked away, already reviewing footage on her tablet.
Kasumi spent the remaining practice time refining techniques based on Ayame's feedback. Tighter wing beats for Butterfree, she discovered Butterfree could maintain rhythm if Kasumi hummed the tempo. Espeon's buildup required charging Future Sight longer before release, creating visible tension. Glaceon needed less intervention, just let its natural elegance shine.
When Block C ended, Kasumi was exhausted but energized. Real feedback from a professional. Concrete improvements in just two hours. Evidence she could actually do this.
Backstage, Sakura was still there, working with her Vileplume. She glanced over as Kasumi packed up. "Ayame gave you a session? She doesn't usually bother with rookies."
"Guess I'm special," Kasumi said, matching Sakura's condescending tone.
"Or she feels sorry for you." Sakura recalled her Vileplume. "See you in Cerulean. Try to at least make it past preliminaries, I'd hate for my first round to be too easy."
She left before Kasumi could formulate a comeback.
"She's delightful," Kasumi muttered. Then to her Pokemon, "New goal, beat Sakura Haruno so thoroughly she has to acknowledge we're not just cute rookies."
Gardevoir's eyes flashed with competitive fire. The rest of her team chirped agreement.
Kasumi returned to the Pokemon Center as evening settled over Pewter City. The suite was quiet, Kiyomi at the museum, Miyuki at the breeding suite. But Sasuke was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
"How was it?" he asked without turning from the stove.
"Productive. Humbling. Infuriating." Kasumi dropped onto the couch, exhausted. "I met a rival. Sakura Haruno, already has three ribbons, acts like I'm beneath her notice."
"Good."
"Good?"
"You perform better when you're competing. I've watched you train, you're more focused when there's someone to beat." Sasuke glanced over his shoulder. "A rival pushes you past what you think you're capable of."
"I also got a coaching session tomorrow. Free, because apparently I have 'natural talent' but terrible technique."
"Accurate assessment."
"Hey!"
"You asked me to be honest about your Contest prep." Sasuke stirred something that smelled incredible. "Your bond with your Pokemon is obvious. But your choreography needed work. Professional coaching will fix that."
Kasumi couldn't argue. "Ayame, the coach, said I need music for my routines. Match movements to rhythm, create cohesive performances instead of just stringing moves together."
"Makes sense. Music creates emotional impact."
"Could you..." Kasumi hesitated. "Would you help with battle round training? Contests have battle components, and I'm a terrible tactical fighter. You're good at that."
Sasuke considered. "Battle rounds judged on style, not just winning?"
"Appeal during combat. How you win matters more than that you win."
"I can work with that." He plated dinner, some kind of curry with perfectly cooked rice. "After your coaching session tomorrow. We'll run tactical drills focused on visual impact."
"Thank you." Kasumi accepted the plate, inhaled the aroma. "You're suspiciously supportive about this Contest thing."
"Your success doesn't diminish mine. And watching you get serious about competition is... impressive." He sat across from her with his own plate. "You've been talking about Contests since Pallet Town. Good to see you actually doing the work."
They ate in comfortable silence. Kasumi's mind buzzed with practice insights, coaching anticipation, rivalry motivation. Two weeks wasn't much time, but she had support. Professional coaching, powerful Pokemon, friends who believed in her.
And now a rival to prove wrong.
Miyuki and Kiyomi returned around eight PM. Kasumi immediately recruited them as practice judges.
"I need honest feedback on my routines. Ayame said audience impact is crucial, so you'll watch my performances and score them on Appeal, Beauty, Coordination, and Audience Impact."
"Absolutely," Miyuki said. "When?"
"Tomorrow evening. After coaching and battle training. I want to implement professional feedback before you judge."
They set up a schedule, Ayame's coaching session morning, battle training with Sasuke afternoon, mock Contest judged by Miyuki and Kiyomi evening. Full day of intensive preparation.
Kasumi lay in bed that night, mind racing through routines and combinations. Sakura's condescending smile fueled her determination. Ayame's validation built her confidence. Her team's trust gave her foundation.
Two weeks until Cerulean Contest.
Fourteen days to transform from amateur to competitor.
She'd do it.
She had to.
Because proving Sakura Haruno wrong would be almost as satisfying as winning that first ribbon.