The day of the Final Championship arrived.
The crowd gathered at the Pyrite Colosseum had swelled even further. This was, after all, the region's massive annual event. The opportunity to enter the interior and witness high-level battles in person was a rare luxury in the lawless lands of Pyrite Town.
Consequently, despite the steep ticket prices, it remained as popular as the Charity Event. While it lacked the sheer, suffocating malice of the latter, the spectacle of intense Pokémon combat could only be found here—a dream come true for those who idolized raw power.
Mirroring major tournaments in other regions, the organizers had invited several guests from Gateon Port to serve as commentators, primarily to explain the intricacies of the battles to the laymen in the audience.
----
Inside the Colosseum.
As the host introduced the guests to the seated audience one by one, the first two trainers of the day took their positions.
In the competitors' waiting room, Kashiwagi sat alone, looking up at the large screen hanging at the front. His match was scheduled for the third slot. His opponent was a giant of a man, nearly as tall as Soshiro. It seemed the heights of people in Pyrite Town were always extreme—either towering at two meters or squatting at five-foot-something.
An average height of 1.8 meters like his was actually quite rare.
He scanned the room. The other dozen or so contestants were scattered about, standing or sitting, silently watching the ongoing match on the television. Every single one of them looked like trouble... wait.
Kashiwagi's gaze locked onto a specific spot. Unlike the others, who were clearly Orre locals with faces weathered by grit regardless of their wealth, this person was remarkably young and clean.
He was so "clean" that he seemed completely untouched by the desert dust, looking like someone from a privileged background who had never seen a day of hard labor in his life.
From Gateon Port?
Kashiwagi looked at the guests on the screen, but the vibe didn't match. Rather than being from the neighboring port city, it felt more accurate to say he was from the "outside"—from another region entirely.
When Kashiwagi had looked at the portraits of the advancing trainers earlier, he hadn't noticed that this person possessed such a distinct aura in the flesh.
Was he here last year? Kashiwagi recalled the list he got from Frobo; he didn't remember seeing this face.
As he was contemplating, the stranger seemed to sense the scrutiny. He turned his head sharply, meeting Kashiwagi's eyes. Both were startled for a moment, then nodded politely to each other with a smile.
"Yamamino... is it?"
Kashiwagi withdrew his gaze. He knew that regardless of this man's origins, he wouldn't be an easy opponent. He might very well be a top contender for the championship.
[***Candidate's Vigoroth takes it! The battle is decided!]
The voice from the television signaled the end of the first match. The second was about to begin, which meant it was time for Kashiwagi to start preparing for the third.
----
In the dimly lit tunnel.
The loser of the previous match walked back from the field. Kashiwagi, heading out for his turn, passed him by. Feeling the heavy gloom radiating from the defeated trainer, Kashiwagi felt a sudden surge of nerves.
Following the drone cameras of the Charity Event and the prying eyes of the street thugs, he was now facing a much larger audience. The pressure was on a different level.
The key was whether Chansey and the others could handle being watched by so many people. It took a special kind of courage to perform under such intense scrutiny.
Green.
In every sense of the word, Kashiwagi knew he was still "green."
At the end of the tunnel, blinding white light and a mountain-shaking roar of cheers slammed into his ears. He stepped out, and the noise became even clearer.
The most distinct sounds came from the spectators lining the path—frenzied gamblers clutching their betting slips. They weren't just shouting "Go!"; they were screaming, jeering, and venting their emotions in hopes of an overnight fortune.
Under the flashing spotlights, a new battlefield—swapped in via high-tech arena mechanics—glistened. Even the wisps of white stage fog were clearly visible.
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers.
"Let's welcome a young rising star from Team Snagem—Kashiwagi!!"
Kashiwagi walked slowly toward the center of the field, looking across the distance at the giant man. The opponent's mocking, sneering expression was plain to see.
The settings for the Final Championship were different: the format had shifted to 3v3, and the field had been expanded from 50 meters to 80, giving the Pokémon more room to maneuver. However, this also meant the trainers had a larger area to cover, placing a greater tax on their physical stamina.
In the commentary booth.
After the introduction, the host quickly handed the floor to the guests. "Mr. Shiratori, what are your thoughts on this upcoming match?"
"I believe this match is quite unfavorable for Kashiwagi," the guest named Shiratori stated bluntly. "If you look at his previous matches, his main Pokémon—Lairon and Chansey—are both weak to Fighting-type moves. He starts with a natural Type disadvantage. Furthermore, if I'm not mistaken, his Chansey is a purely support-oriented Pokémon."
The host chimed in, "Oh? Could you explain what you mean by 'support-oriented'?"
"It's a Pokémon meant to create an advantage for its teammates," Shiratori lectured. "Not all Pokémon are capable of standing on their own. Some are better suited for utility rather than offense. Against such a Pokémon, you simply shouldn't give it a chance to use status moves. I'm sure his opponent, ***, won't give him that chance."
The host sighed. "Does that mean Kashiwagi is doomed to lose?"
"Not necessarily!" Shiratori waved a hand dismissively. "Kashiwagi still has a Fairy-type Mawile. If I were the one commanding it, I could certainly turn the tide and win. Even with him commanding, there's a chance—it just depends on whether he can seize the moment."
"Hahaha, thank you for your insight, Mr. Shiratori. Well then, let's wait and see how Kashiwagi performs."
The host forced a couple of awkward laughs, his eyes darting toward a section of the audience where the Team Snagem members were already hurling curses. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.
These outside guests really didn't mince words. That arrogant attitude would have earned them a beating in a dark alley if they were outside the Colosseum.
Still, this deliberate singling out of Kashiwagi... it was entirely possible the guest had taken a bribe from the opponent. The host knew very well that these "distinguished guests" had no sense of professional integrity.
On the field.
Kashiwagi faintly heard Shiratori's commentary. He knew his data had likely been scrutinized by his opponent long ago. But that went both ways; Frobo had provided him with detailed files on all his potential rivals.
Whether he could make the best use of that data was up to him.
"Fighting-type specialist, huh... being at a type disadvantage really is annoying," Kashiwagi muttered under his breath.
The red preparation light began to blink.
A second later, the green light flashed.
Kashiwagi and the giant both ran toward their respective command positions and threw their Poké Balls.
Pop! Pop!
Two flashes of white light.
Mawile hit the field, immediately leading with its standard Magnet Rise. Flickering electricity enveloped its body, and it drifted into the air.
On the opposite side, a Hitmonchan appeared. It pumped its glove-like fists while charging toward Mawile, a dark red aura beginning to shimmer around its body. An intimidating presence gathered as its muscles visibly bulged and tightened, looking like bundles of tough steel cable.
"Bulk Up!"
Kashiwagi didn't need the opponent to announce it; he recognized the move instantly.