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Leon reaches the top of the mountain and admits he’s lost. Sure, getting lost was technically part of the plan. He’s regretting it now, though.
Going without a guide was self-sabotage. His league-appointed therapist recognized this kind of thing in their sessions, gave him the word for it, told him to look out for it. And then her notes got to Rose, and Leon suddenly had to deal with league-official babysitters to make sure he ate every day and didn’t overwork himself to the point of injury. They treated him like he was a child —and in a way, he was, wasn’t he? A spoiled child who needed someone else to cook for him and got lost because he never paid attention to his surroundings.
The Wild Area is rather pretty this time of day. Sometimes it’s foggy or stormy, but today there’s just sunlight and strong wind. It’s a nice place to rest a while.
But he can’t wait for long. He only has an hour to get to Wyndon. He should probably call someone to come get him.
Or not.
The league is particular about timing. They have to be; people pay good money to see a match when it’s scheduled. So if there’s a match and one trainer doesn’t show up at the scheduled starting time, they have fifteen minutes to make it. After that, it counts as a forfeit — a loss — and their opponent is declared the winner.
The closest city is probably Hammerlocke. If someone started from there right now, they could probably find Leon and get him to Wyndon with ten minutes to spare. If Leon waited twenty minutes before calling…
He lets himself fantasize about it for a minute. He gets to the stadium, out of breath and apologetic. Maybe the stadium boos. Maybe Rose looks disappointed. Leon will apologize, make some speech about how he’s grown lazy and he’s sure he would have lost against Raihan anyway. (He’s sure he wouldn’t, but narratives have to be framed as quickly as possible.)
He’d take off his cape with a smooth motion, bow in front of Raihan, and give it to him. Then he’d walk out of the stadium, a civilian and not a champion, free to do whatever he wished without worrying about his image.
Raihan might feel betrayed; he might take it as Leon giving up on him as a rival. In a way, he’d be right. But wouldn’t he be happier in the end? He deserves the championship. He works so hard for it. He loves battling, and more importantly, he loves the spotlight. He enjoys being a celebrity, smiling in interviews, people thirsting over him.
Leon can’t remember the last time he really liked being champion. He likes battling, sometimes. He likes interacting with fans, when he has the energy for it. The things he used to enjoy don’t give him the same happiness that they used to. It takes more energy just to get out of bed in the morning, much less all the other things Champion Leon the Undefeated does.
But Raihan wouldn’t have any problems with the duties of the champion. Raihan would love all of it, unconditionally.
The league might not, though. Leon doesn’t know if they’d risk accusations of foul play to look past the rule and allow him to fight in the match, but they might. He makes a lot of money for them, and if he doesn’t perform there could be consequences for both him and Raihan.
The fans, too. Leon cringes when he remembers them: the trolls who love posting insults under Raihan’s posts. If he won the championship from a technicality, they’d never let him live it down.
Well, maybe Leon won’t show up late. Maybe he just won’t show up at all. There’s not much time for a cab to come from Hammerlocke and take him to Wyndon. Maybe he’ll climb down from here, find a nice cave and… rest. Someone would find him eventually; it would look like a horrible accident.
In the grand scheme of things, he thinks, is anyone really going to miss me?
Is there really a Leon to miss?
A Corviknight cries out. Seconds later, the taxi touches down on the plateau. Out jumps a boy in hospital clothes. He has the same look on his face that Hop gets when Leon surprises him with a visit.
When Leon tells them he got lost, neither the boy nor the taxi driver press him further.