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Once a month, Gloria treats Sonia to lunch at the Captain’s Table in Hulbury. The professor is a busy woman, ever on the move, quick on her feet to get to every menial task–but, for Gloria, Sonia makes the time.
(It isn’t cheap—but between all her efforts as Champion, Gloria figures the occasional splurge won’t hurt. Plus, Sonia’s face when the food arrives is priceless–jaw wide open, eyes sparkling bright, regardless of how many times they eat there.)
Hulbury is a humble, friendly town, a refreshing, second-home kind of place; the perfect change of pace from the daily bustle of Wyndon affairs, from irritated managers and heartbroken challengers.
Gloria remembers the town from her childhood, from family trips in the summer; and even now, years later, it holds the same charm still. It smells of sea, of foam and salt, fresh and crisp and clean; the gentle sound of waves resounds through every street. There is a serenity that lingers throughout Hulbury; a pulsing, earnest aura that fills Gloria’s lungs with an easy breath.
Not much about the little fishing town has changed since that time, so many years ago. While Nessa’s modern Dynamax stadium, paneled in shiny steel, is new, most of the town remains the same otherwise. The houses are lined with the same cool stone, and the ports are made of the same warm brown wood she remembers from so long ago–the same warm brown she’d walked across, her small hands intertwined with her late father’s, his features beaming down at her.
Her visits to Hulbury are trips of nostalgia–breaks away from the exhaustion of her normal life, a chance to unwind and breathe, surrounded by the vast ocean around her. It is one of the only towns where she is not crowded, where residents respect her space regardless of her title.
She cherishes her meetings with Sonia–not only for the lady’s company, but for the walks they go on afterward, taking in the sights and scenery around them, and their ice cream, eaten by the shore.
It is the one thing she looks forward to.
This time, for their monthly meeting, Hop has opted to join in–Sonia cites him as her plus-one, her trusty assistant.
“It’ll be fun!” she tells Gloria over the phone. Her and Hop have grown close as of late; the boy works hard as her assistant, and Sonia holds him in high regard. “Besides, I’m sure you want to bring Raihan along too, don’t you?”
“Raihan?” Gloria asks, puzzled. “Why him?”
Sonia giggles. “Word has it you two are close–so why not? The more the merrier.” Gloria wants to ask her what she means, to ask what she is trying to say, to ask if she really sees her and Raihan that way, to ask who exactly these ‘words’ come from–and then Sonia hangs up, leaving Gloria alone, a silence washing over her world as she mulls the girl’s words over in her head.
Ten minutes later, against her better judgment, she dials Raihan, and invites him along.
“It’s the, um, Captain’s Table,” she tells him, “the one in Hulbury. Sonia and Hop will be there too.” Her voice wavers as she speaks, and while she tries to steel herself, she can feel the bubbles pooling in her stomach. “It’ll be fun, if you’re down.”
She knows he’s a busy man. She may be Champion, but only so many challengers make it as far as the League. Raihan, on the other hand, is the backbone of the Gym Challenges–he is the filter between the skilled and the unskilled, the final obstacle to any challenger wishing to make it to the end. Because making it through the first seven gyms in Galar is an achievement, yes–but it is at Raihan that so many challengers pause, that so many challengers give into their doubts, crumbling at his work.
Many try. It is a grueling journey, making it all the way to the eighth gym; strong trainers have approached him from all throughout Galar. Only the best of the best make it to him; and while they are few and far between, Raihan’s matches are tough and drawn out. They push his challengers to the limit, but they do just the same for him.
Gloria knows he cherishes his days off, those rare moments when he can finally breathe away from it all. He works himself to the bone, tells his managers he’s fine; he battles through the night.
But she knows him well enough to see beyond his public facade–because the public Raihan is a ruthless Raihan, crazed and reckless, a force to be reckoned with. The public Raihan never rests.
Without the shocks of adrenaline in his veins, he is just Raihan. Quiet, meek Raihan. The Raihan that smiles so warmly at her, his thumb rubbing over her hands, eyes locked with hers. The Raihan whose voice, fuzzy and soft, drops to barely a whisper–
(The Raihan that tells her she’s beautiful, she’s breathtaking, she’s his world and she’s everything he’s ever wanted–)
She doesn’t tell him of Sonia’s words, doesn’t push him to come along. She knows that, even if his schedule permits the outing, he will likely be tired–and Hulbury is quite a ways along from Hammerlocke. If anything, an outing may well just add to his stress.
To her surprise, however, his answer comes just moments later.
“Sure,” he says, grin evident in his voice, “I’d love to.”
And so, face still full of warmth, Gloria books for a table for four.
The date rolls around in no time; Gloria dresses up for the occasion, though just barely, rummaging through her Wyndon apartment the morning of in hopes of finding a nicer shirt to wear. Even by the time her Flying Taxi arrives, she is still in a frenzy, clothes and hair all in a muddle; her apologies to the cabbie, a sweet middle-aged man, are profuse. (Later, she tips him generously, he tries to refuse it, but she insists, and he tips his hat in gratitude before flying off.)
The Captain’s Table is the same as always. A well-groomed waitress greets her politely at the door, guiding her to their usual spot at the very back of the restaurant, where a full-length window opens them up to the ocean, blue and sparkling and wide.
It is gorgeous, just as it always is. For a moment, Gloria’s breath catches in her throat as she takes it all in; she has seen it so many times before, everything from the lighthouse to the ocean to the fishermen to the port–and yet, each time, it just seems all the more real.
Hop’s voice breaks through her musings, full of a childlike joy. “You’re late!” he laughs–he has the uncontrolled, endearing laughter of a toddler, untainted by the world around him. He is wearing a corduroy jacket, a warm, comforting beige–Gloria recognizes it as an old gift from her, and a surge of nostalgia hits her.
Gloria hasn’t seen him in some time, and she really isn’t used to seeing him in nice clothes, her youthful memories of him filled with grime and sweat. Today, though, he looks well-made, with a newfound confidence exuding from his seat to add. He has grown his hair out slightly, but nowhere near his brother’s extent; it is an unexpected change, though it certainly suits him well.
“As tardy as ever,” comes Sonia’s voice. She is seated beside Hop, her smile toothy and welcoming. The young professor is dolled up today, hair tied into pigtails, a pink sweater replacing her usual lab coat; her cheeks are dusted in a warm blush.
“How unbecoming of our Champion,” comes the final voice, drawled and playful. Her gaze moves across the table to where Raihan–gorgeous Raihan, hair so perfectly tied, stray strands so wonderfully untucked by his ears–is seated, head propped cockily in his hands, eyebrow raised teasingly.
He’s out of his usual training wear today, and instead is dressed in something a little nicer–his eyes meet hers, and her heart pounds appreciatively, almost willing her to reach out to him, to hold him–
Oh, God, he’s gorgeous.
Shaking herself, she draws her focus back to the rest of the table. “Sorry,” she says, laughing good-naturedly as she seats herself next to Raihan. “Got a little caught up this morning. Have you guys been waiting long?”
“Ages,” Raihan whines, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Can’t believe you’d pull something like that when you invited us out here.” He clicks his tongue in mock disbelief. “But, hey, I forgive you,” he says, leaning closer to her, voice dropping just low enough for the two of them, “just ‘cuz you’re cute.”
He pulls away, smiling; his words remain a private exchange. Gloria feels the heat rise up in her neck, feels Sonia’s and Hop’s curious gazes upon her–and yet all she can feel is her heart, pounding mercilessly in her chest, and Raihan’s smile, snaggletooth bared for her to see.
(And then, beneath the table, below the tablecloths, where nobody sees–she feels a hand graze softly over her own, and then resting upon it, stroking it so gently–)
“Ugh, I’m starving,” Hop cries suddenly. The hand moves away, and Gloria becomes acutely aware of her surroundings—and of the heat in her face that has yet to disperse.
“Me too,” Sonia says; her eyes are on Gloria, narrowed in confusion–but, thankfully, she but says nothing, opting instead to pick the menu up off the table. She flips through the pages, and a glint appears in her eyes. “Oh, God, I can’t wait.”
Gloria chuckles weakly. “Then let’s order, shall we?”
Their lunch is pleasant; they order far more than Sonia and Gloria usually do between the two of them (much to Sonia’s delight).
It is a slow, savored meal, the four of them taking the time to catch up with one another; Hop tells them of his studies to become a professor, detailing all his tasks as Sonia’s assistant. Sonia speaks of her new book in the works, and her studies on the Dynamax phenomenon (which, much to her dismay, still has much behind it that she has yet to understand).
Raihan speaks of up and coming challengers, warning Gloria of their coming. “You’ll win, no problem” he tells her, patting her back earnestly. “My money’s on you, champ.” His faith in her is accompanied by a genuine smile, devoid of any of his usual cheek.
It warms her heart.
By the end of their meal, the four of them are stuffed. Splitting the bill between the four of them, they make their way out into the streets of Hulbury, their chatter still enthusiastic as ever.
“Let’s get ice cream!” Sonia suggests suddenly, stopping in her tracks. She turns to Hop, grinning. “You have to try this place. Gloria and I go here all the time.” Gloria grins–she knows exactly which shop she means.
They make their way there upon request; the store is a quaint little place, adorned with an abundance of greenery, run by two little elderly women. The married couple, both dressed in a sunny yellow, brightens up as soon as Sonia and Gloria step into the shop, immediately recognizing the two of them from their monthly visits.
“Back again?” one of them teases, eyes wrinkled into a smile.
“With friends this time! You know I can’t resist for long,” Sonia replies; though Gloria is still by the door, Sonia is already by the counter and scanning the flavors with an unreserved excitement. “Ooh, sea salt!”
“Brand new!” the other woman tells her, nodding. “Comes with a caramel, too. Homemade.”
“Oh, I love your caramels,” Sonia beams. “A double for me, then!” The ladies chuckle in unison; one of them moves to scoop her two generous globs, while the other rings her order up. “Oh, and a single plain vanilla for my friend here,” she adds, digging her wallet out of her purse.
“You know me too well,” Raihan laughs, accepting the two cones from the woman as Sonia pays. “Thanks.”
“Anything for an old friend.”
They are comfortable with one another; they’ve been friends for years, since long before Raihan’s days as Hammerlocke Gym Leader.
Leon’s known her for much longer, of course–they’d practically been neighbors, Postwick and Wedgehurst separated only by a field of Wooloo. But Raihan isn’t too far behind; he’d first met her at the Water gym years ago, her Yamper by her side, still as small then as he is now. He remembers her younger self, defiant and loud, filled with the confidence of youth; remembers her frustration at the League, her fall as a challenger, her transition out of the Gyms and into her studies.
As Hop and Gloria occupy themselves with arguing over ice cream at the counter (a debate sparks over which flavor is best—Hop insists on cotton candy, which is sickly sweet and makes Gloria gag), Sonia pulls Raihan aside, her index finger pressed to her lips. He nods in a silent understanding, following her to a bench by the entrance of the store.
Sonia wastes no time in pestering him with questions, eyes shining with an unprecedented enthusiasm.
“How long has this been going on?” she asks, head cocked curiously to the side. Before Raihan can open his mouth to protest, Sonia hushes him. “Don’t play dumb. I saw that stunt at the table during lunch, and I’ve heard all the stories from everyone else, so there’s clearly something happening behind the scenes. Are you two dating?”
She’s posed two very striking questions, neither of which Raihan truly knows how to respond to. It wouldn’t take a genius to deduce that she’s referring to Gloria, but everything else beyond that confuses even him.
For starters, he doesn’t even really know what’s going on between the two of them, let alone how it all started.
Battling her had never been easy. Even as a gym leader, watching her matches on television and knowing she’d been handpicked by Leon himself, he’d known she’d be a feat to overcome. And truly, she was. Even with the first time she’d stepped into the Hammerlocke gym, hair tied behind her ears, brows knitted cautiously together, her voice straining over the effects of wind and rain and sand. He’d been blown away on the spot—her pokemon battled with an unprecedented vigor, each of them fully trusting her. And Gloria herself as a trainer was fascinating to watch. Witty and charming in person, and in battle full of a well-honed instinct and intellect.
He’d been impressed by her wins in the gym challenges—but never much beyond that. The eight Galar gyms had been designed with heavy restrictions in mind, a carefully designed journey for every trainer brave enough to take upon it. Gyms in themselves were crafted to a tee, the levels, abilities, moves and types of each pokemon monitored carefully by the League committee. The gyms were never meant to be unbeatable; so while her win in Hammerlocke was certainly impressive, it wasn’t impossible , because Hop did the same shortly after.
But then the championships rolled around. And she’d stepped out the same as always, quietly determined to win, her pokemon quivering in anticipation. She’d faced him in the semi-finals, tears pooled with every attack, her cries mingled in with her own pokemon’s, fists clenched to a cold white—
He was supposed to be Raihan, great tamer of Dragons, second only to Leon. Nobody was supposed to get past him—not in Wyndon Stadium, not outside of his own gym, not with the whole world watching in the finals. It had always been him, the sole challenger to Leon’s title.
And yet Gloria had won.
She’d won, tears streaming down her face, the whole world screaming in wonder and shock and awe. She’d won, and her fists had been raised high into the air, her hair matted against her forehead. On the damp, sandy field, standing: her Inteleon, victorious, breaths heaving and wounds proudly worn. On the ground, fallen: his Duradulon, groaning with the weight of an unfamiliar defeat.
He’d dropped to his knees, eyes shut tightly together. His whole world sank with his body; he thought of the things that could no longer be, of the battles he’d promised himself, and all that could have come.
And then he’d accepted it. He’d stood up, wiped himself clean, and shaken her hands—sandy and quivering and filled with a firm resolve.
He’d smiled, and looked her in the eyes.
And she’d smiled back.
He’d found her that night, after the match, and asked her to lunch. “A keep your friends close and enemies closer kinda thing,” he’d reasoned cheekily.
(He didn’t think they’d grow as close as they are now.)
Sonia’s question, as they are, remains unanswerable. But Raihan mulls the thoughts over again. And then he turns to Sonia, shrugging. “I’d tell you myself if I knew,” he replies lamely, a bashful smirk on his face.
The girl groans. “You’re ridiculous, the both of you, you know that?” She spoons the ice cream into her mouth with an exaggerated force. Raihan laughs at her antics, and takes a bite of his own, enjoying the smooth, cooling texture on his tongue. “Listen,” Sonia says, waving a hand to catch the man’s attention, “I’m not against the two of you being together.” She takes another spoonful. “And I don’t think you need me to tell you how much I care for the both of you, right?”
Sonia turns away, taking in the scenery around her. The shop is located just by the water; the sun has just begun to set, and hues of purple and pink flitter across the sky.
“I trust you two,” she says. “Do yourselves well.”
Raihan nods.
It is quiet until Hop’s voice comes along, boundlessly energetic as always.
“Holy crap, this is really good!” In his hands he holds a cone of black sesame ice cream; beside him, Gloria rolls her eyes, a scoop of Belgian chocolate in her own. “I need to come here more often, that’s for sure.”
Raihan sits straighter as Gloria seats herself beside him. Their legs touch.
“Maybe you should join us more often, then,” Sonia tells Hop, chuckling. The boy seats himself beside the professor, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, absolutely.” Hop shovels the ice cream into his mouth unabashedly, only pausing to laugh as Sonia warns him of an impending brain freeze. “I can’t wait for next month,” he declares, a bubbling satisfaction in his voice.
“You should join us too, Rai.” The voice is Gloria’s, soft and welcoming, her eyes locked with his.
After a moment of thought, Raihan looks to her.
“That would be nice,” he says, smiling.
Gloria smiles back.