Chapter Text
Flannery’s jaw quivers, her eyes going wide as her grandfather stares morosely at her. She’s not quite sure if she’s heard him right, given the alarm bells screaming in her brain.
“B-b-but… a-are you sure?” She stammers, her hands automatically trembling in fear.
“I have no choice, Flannery,” her grandpa replies, rubbing the space between his eyebrows tiredly. “The doctors said I need to stop working - the adrenaline rush from battling is spiking my blood pressure. The gym is up to you now - I got approval from the Hoenn League Council this morning.”
Flannery feels her heart dive to the pits of her belly at the finality of her grandfather’s tone.
She had known this day would come and she had been prepared for it since her father had passed away, but to have it happen quite so soon… how on earth could a person like her ever fill her grandfather’s ginormous shoes? He wasn’t just a capable gym leader - he’d once been scouted to be part of the Elite Four!
“You won’t be alone at first,” Grandpa speaks firmly, as if he’s heard her silent terror loud and clear. “I will be there to guide you. We will have to work doubly hard to get you up to speed given that the annual challenge starts in a month.”
With the way her stomach is churning, she can’t help but wonder if that’s nearly enough time.
—-
Flannery hasn’t felt this sick in a very long while. She stands in front of the Pokémon League office building, quivering like a loose custard pudding and her stomach flipping inside out with nervousness.
The building is massive - after all, the sponsors of the Pokémon League also act as members of the presiding government of Hoenn, and they need the huge space to run the region.
Somewhere in the vast maze of hallways and closed-cubicle offices, are Flannery’s future colleagues - the seven other gym leaders of Hoenn and the Elite Four, headed by the Hoenn Champion, who’s famous for being the youngest Champion in Hoenn thus far. She hardly knows anything about any of them, only having heard their names during conversation with her grandpa (or rather… eavesdropping on his conversations with other people). It’s been a hot minute since she had attempted the Hoenn gym challenge, and those leaders have since been replaced by the newer generation so she has no clue who else is on the League alongside her, or if they’ll be nice to her.
From the memo that was Pelipper-mailed to her earlier in the week, she is the newest member of the team, alongside another man by the name of Norman Maple who hadn’t arrived in Hoenn yet, leaving her to be the only new face here.
One of the first tasks that had been assigned to her by the committee was to share a short introduction about herself during the meeting. It’s meant to be a simple task, but she’s found it almost impossible to accomplish. What on earth is there to say about herself? She… likes cooking? She’s… the granddaughter of the previous Lavaridge gym leader? All they’d think about is how great her grandpa is, and how terribly she compares to him!
Flannery gulps in trepidation at the thought, but the lump clogging up her throat just doubles in size with the action. She had still tried to prepare something for the occasion, but alas, words have evaded her up til now, and all she has scrawled onto her flashcards are, “Hi, I’m Flannery!”.
She desperately wants to turn tail and flee back to Lavaridge, to sink herself into the deep pools of heated saltwater at the hot springs and let the boiling water wash out the tight knots of tension in her chest.
She taps a finger distractedly on the Pokeball containing her grandpa’s Charizard - all she would have to do is let the old boy out and she’d be swiftly on the way home to her safe haven.
Alas, her sense of duty to her grandfather wins out over her desire to escape her impending doom, so she forces herself to walk into the building in as composed a manner as possible.
The receptionist at the counter helpfully gives her directions to the right place, and Flannery nervously heads to the conference room where the meeting is being hosted in.
Thankfully, it hasn’t started yet. It appears however that she is one of the later ones to arrive, because there are quite a few individuals scattered all around the room, chatting to each other in hushed tones.
She elects to take one of the seats by the large windows, hoping not to draw any attention to herself. There isn’t anyone sitting nearby her - with her stomach churning the way it is, chatting to her new colleagues is definitely not on the cards. She will count herself lucky if she manages not to spew on anyone today. A few people cast curious glances at her, possibly because they don’t recognise her, but they don’t approach - she thanks her lucky stars for that, because she feels so terribly ill right now. Puking on her colleagues at their first meeting would definitely make an awful first impression.
As Flannery stares vacantly around the room, her breaths come in rapid, short puffs, and she clenches her fists tightly to prevent herself from going into one of her… breakdowns. That’s the last thing she wants her esteemed colleagues to witness, especially on their first time meeting her!
“We will begin the meeting now,” speaks a stout, small man in the front of the room, distracting her from her peril. Apparently it seems that everybody has arrived - it’s a medium-sized meeting of folks gathered around the conference table, some as young as her, some as old as her grandpa… and two kids? The children turn to stare at her owlishly, and Flannery ducks her head in embarrassment. Gosh… even children are seniors to her!
The chairman begins to speak, starting off with statistics of the last year’s Gym challenge.
Flannery tries her best to focus on the meeting, but all it does is eat away at her already dwindling confidence. The man rattles on about the percentages of battles won, critical performance evaluations and the such of each gym leader, and it only drives in the reminder of how incapable she is compared to everyone else in the room.
“Next, we have the performance evaluation of Michael Moore, who has recently retired this year. Mr Moore helmed the Lavaridge City Gym, and out of 452 challengers, he has scored a 68% win rate. Some of the feedback offered by the challengers at the end of the year state that Mr Moore’s Fire-type gym was exceptionally hard to defeat, due to the relative lack of powerful Water types in the area,” drones the dimunitive man in the front.
There are mutterings of approval around the room from her colleagues at the appraisal.
Flannery feels her palms begin to sweat. 68%… Her grandfather must have won over two hundred battles at that rate! Her heart clenches almost painfully - how on earth could she ever live up to that? Battling as a gym leader is way different from battling as a regular trainer, and it isn’t as if she’d been great before either…
She’s so lost in her spiraling despair that she doesn’t notice the time flowing onwards. She barely registers that the man in front is now moving onto the most dreaded part of the meeting until his eyes suddenly make contact with hers.
“… Flannery Moore, the new gym leader who will be replacing Mr Moore in Lavaridge Town,” the Chairman speaks with a booming voice, his eyes directed meaningfully towards Flannery.
That’s my name! Flannery screeches internally, and almost leaps out of her chair in fright like someone’s lit her butt on fire.
All eyes in the room train upon her, almost as if to dissect her under a microscope. Flannery scrambles for her flashcards, her hands visibly shaking.
“H-hi, I’m F-Flannery!” She finds her voice for the two seconds it takes to say that phrase. Then it rapidly lodges in her throat as the strangers stare at her in thick, heavy silence.
Her brain draws a complete blank as her esteemed colleagues bore their eyes into her. Rather than friendly faces, their expressions are impassive, unimpressed. Her bravado is draining away rapidly, and Flannery turns as pale as a sheet of bleached paper. She faintly registers that she’s just about to faint when a rich, velvety voice speaks up.
“Welcome to the team, Flannery,” a man in the front says kindly, his tone pleasant and welcoming. His hair is tousled artfully and its colour is a curious shade that lands somewhere between gray and light blue. In his impeccably tailored three-piece suit, he definitely looks very important indeed, and an aura of magnitude seems to emanate from him effortlessly.
His short statement causes the people in the room to finally react, and they give her a smattering of polite applause, allowing her to finally escape their heavy attention.
Flannery collapses back into her seat, the relief flooding into her like a tsunami. She’s beyond grateful for that man - he had essentially saved her from having one of her breakdowns in front of all these senior colleagues. If she’d collapsed here and now, Grandpa would have a fit for sure, and she’d make him more upset with her than he usually is.
She looks up from her abject relief, noticing that his gray eyes are absently trained on her. They are contemplative, and as the two make eye contact, Flannery can’t help the burst of grateful emotion filling her own red irises - she would have hated to make a scene in front of everyone. His eyes widen a fraction, before returning to an impassive state and he directs his gaze elsewhere.
Flannery pinches herself firmly - if she accomplishes anything of substance today, it must definitely be to thank that man for his help earlier. If it hadn’t been for him… Flannery shivers - she doesn’t even want to consider the thought.
“With that final task at hand, this meeting is adjourned,” the man up front announces finally.
Flannery heaves a big sigh of relief, wiping the cold sweat from her brow. It’s finally over and she can go home and sink herself into her beloved hot springs. But first… She glances up to see that man with the curiously coloured hair making his way to the exit, his eyebrows furrowed in silent thought.
““A-Ah, sorry, please wait a minute!” She cries out in a panic after his retreating figure. She clambers out of her seat and dashes after him in pursuit.
Thank Arceus, she manages to snag his jacket sleeve in her outstretched hand before he disappears like the wind. His eyes flick coldly to her in annoyance, but they soften when his gaze lands on her, as if he recognizes her.
Flannery promptly realises that she hasn’t a clue what to say to this man. She blushes furiously in embarrassment as he waits for her to speak. And then she realises she’s been hanging onto his jacket sleeve without saying a word for much too long - how terribly rude!
“A-ah! So sorry again!” She yelps, and hastily releases his sleeve.
The material alone felt like it’d cost her a kidney on the black market, and Flannery is awfully paranoid that she could somehow dirty it just by touching it. He’s so well-dressed compared to her! She glances doubtfully at her own tattered sneakers and ripped jeans - maybe she should have changed before she came…
“No bother,” the man clears his throat and interrupts her train of thought. His voice is just as velvety smooth as earlier, like chocolate melted over a low flame. “Can I help you?”
Flannery hasn’t the slightest clue what she wants to say to him - all that’s on her mind is that crushing wave of gratitude for how he’d come to her reacue earlier. She plays with her fingers to stem off the nervousness, stumbling over her words as they tumble out of her mouth thoughtlessly.
“I-I just wanted to say… thank you!” She hastily bows to him. “I don’t… I don’t really know anyone here… but you helped me out earlier, and… yea…”
Oh Arceus, did she just bow to this person? Flannery cringes in despair - what a fantastic way to start a conversation. No matter how grateful she is to him for helping her out earlier, an old-fashioned bow like that probably makes her look super lame.
Surprisingly, he takes it in his stride, with not the slightest hint of mocking in his tone.
“No problem, we’re always looking out for the newer ones,” he replies politely.
She looks up to see him smiling at her kindly - the expression turns his eyes soft, and Flannery suddenly feels heat rise to her cheeks as she gazes into the molten gray depths. It feels like she is staring into pots of iridescent silver paint, and wonders offhandedly what sort of portraits his kind eyes would picture.
“What’s your name?” She asks breathlessly - somehow, despite her paralyzing fear of everyone else, she finds herself wanting to know more about him.
“S-Steven,” his voice catches a little, and he shakes his head once before continuing. “Steven Stone.”
That name… oh Arceus. Flannery blanches in horror as her brain connects the dots immediately. She’s talking to the number one trainer in the entire region - Hoenn’s youngest Champion ever, Steven Stone, who’s also one of the biggest of bigwigs at the Devon Corporation, one of Hoenn’s biggest companies. Any man of his position would probably never even offer her his boot to clean. Not to mention - this guy’s her big boss!
“A-ah… the Champion…?” She coughs weakly, feeling almost delirious - she’s making such a fool of herself in front of someone as esteemed as him. “U-uh… I’ll be in your service… Mr Stone!”
He chuckles throatily, scratching the back of his neck in an awkward gesture that looks out-of-place on a man of his calibre.
“No need to call me that, please,” Steven Stone smiles genially. “That makes me sound like my father. Please, just call me Steven.”
How on earth could she even dare to address the Champion of Hoenn in such a casual manner?!
“U-um… Mr Steven?” Flannery tries again, but the man is adamant, shaking his head firmly with a stern expression.
She sighs defeatedly. She has no choice, if he’s insistent. It would be ruder to continue refusing him.
“W-well, thank you for your help earlier,” she flusters again. “S-Steven.”
His eyes widen as she stumbles over the first-name basis, and he looks contemplative for a second, before he smiles, crinkling his eyes in good humour.
“Again, it was no bother for me at all,” his voice is smooth, flowing like liquid mercury.
She smiles victoriously to herself - she’s accomplished her goal for the day, maybe even made a new friend along the way? She turns to leave when Steven stops her in her tracks.
“W-wait!” His voice roughens, almost jagged in urgency.
Flannery turns to him, blinking owlishly as Steven develops a conflicted look in his steel eyes.
“Do… do you want to find rocks with me?” He asks in a completely serious tone - there is not a hint of joking in his eyes; in fact there might be a tinge of desperation?
Baffled by his offer and how fitting his surname is to him, Flannery can’t help the giggles that bubble up in her throat, eventually erupting into full blown snorts of laughter. Steven stares at her with an amused quirk of his lips as she struggles to contain herself.
“S-sorry,” she finally regains her composure, wiping a tear from her eye. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you… I just didn’t think your name was so… literal.”
Unfortunately his next words dump a cold bucket of water all over her joviality.
“I may drop by Lavaridge soon to appraise the gym, and it’s always good to get to know the newer ones on the team,” Steven remarks swiftly, looking pleased.
All traces of hilarity drain away from Flannery at the mention of an appraisal. There is no doubt at all that she would embarrass herself in front of a man as accomplished as Steven Stone - she’s definitely going to mess up in front of him, and then Grandpa’s going to be so mad!
Steven sees the look of chagrin on her face.
“Don’t worry! It’s an informal assessment,” he clarifies quickly.
That doesn’t make it any better! Flannery wants to cry out, her face crumpling even further.
Suddenly, a bright idea pings into her mind. She blurts it out before her rational senses reign her in.
“Say… maybe you could tutor me?” She asks eagerly, rocking on the balls of her feet. “I-I mean, if it’s okay, M- I mean, Steven…”
His eyes brighten and he smiles.
“Yes, I would be very happy to mentor you.”
Flannery can’t help the huge smile blossoming in her face - there isn’t anyone in the region better suited to train her to be a good gym leader than the Champion himself!
“That’s perfect!” She gushes, clapping her hands together. Steven’s kindness sparks so much delirious happiness in her that she could shoot off like a firework. If someone like the Champion trained her, she wouldn’t suck as a gym leader and Grandpa wouldn’t be so disappointed anymore!
Suddenly she realises that Steven’s eyes are trained upon her with an almost vacant look, and she cocks her head in confusion. As if he’s caught himself, he shakes his head, sending spiky locks of hair swinging outwards, and digs into his pocket.
Flannery openly gapes as he pulls out a crisp black namecard from a patent leather cardholder. It’s lined in gold ink, with the words “Devon Corporation” embellished on the front. Underlying that title is Steven’s name and occupation - CFO? Flannery wonders what it means as he deftly flips it over and points at the contact details.
“My Pokenav number is there, as is my Pokemail address,” he gestures, and smiles at her, crinkling his eyes. “Please get in touch soon and we will arrange something.”
With that, his face turns impassive again and he strides off, leaving Flannery with the namecard gingerly cradled in her two hands. She gazes at it almost in wonder, before she delicately pockets it - she doesn’t want to crumple such an expensive looking item.
She looks around, realizing she’s the last one left in the room. Everyone else must have already left. She furrows her brow in determination as she makes her way home - she won’t let her Grandpa down now…