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When you are young, you keep Gloria away from your house.
It isn’t a conscious choice, and to be completely honest, you aren’t quite sure why you do it. All you know is that it feels like a reflex. Every time she asks to come over, your mouth opens automatically to divert the idea with other suggestions: her house, you say, or outdoors.
In the end, she’s the one to voice the reason aloud. The two of you were outside, exploring the plains and pointing out every Pokémon you saw, when you were caught in a sudden rainstorm. Through her squeals of displeasure, Gloria quickly decided that since your house was closer, that was where the two of you would take shelter.
She’s off running before you can stop her.
You should have known this was inevitable. When Gloria gets an idea in her head, it’s impossible to stop her — it’s one of the many reasons why you like her so much, just another thing about her that you hoard and lock away in your heart.
In your house, you step away for only a second to go get some towels. It’s a second too long, and when you come back, she has a deep frown on her face. For a moment, you wonder if it’s something you’ve done; then she speaks, and you know it’s something worse.
“Hop,” Gloria asks, “why are there no pictures of you on the wall?”
You don’t know what to say; you’ve wondered the same thing countless times, but never quite worked up the courage to ask.
It doesn’t surprise you that she is braver than you. That’s something you’ve known for a long time now, known so deeply that the simple fact of it cuts into your skin.
The only thing you can do is laugh it off, so you do, and you make some quip to distract her. Running from a battle is something that you’re far too good at.
It isn’t until later, though, when she’s gone back home and the door is firmly closed behind her that you allow the smile to slide off your face. You stand before the aforementioned wall as though you are taking on a Pokémon, and despite the immediate urge to look away, you force your eyes forward.
The wall is covered in nothing but pictures of Leon.
The Champion’s Brother; your title is long, and not quite earned, yet you have always worn it with pride.
You’re always the first one to turn on the television, to brag about him, to drop his name in all conversations.
The reactions you receive are varied: eyes glassy with boredom, sometimes, but more often than not it’s excitement and awe rivaling your own.
It isn’t until later that you understand the origin of that awe: they expect you to follow in his footsteps. Well, of course, they say. The brother of the unbeatable Champion — I bet it runs in the family.
Even Lee himself endorses you with a proud look, a ruffle of your hair.
You can’t help but wish that you had even a fraction of the faith in yourself that they seem to have in you. And whatever you did have shatters in the face of the countless defeats that crush you under their weight.
There are certain facts that you know to be true like you know how to breathe: the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Gloria is strong.
She beats you and beats you and beats you again, and each time she mends the wounds she leaves behind with sweet smiles and honeyed compliments.
They are scabbed over, but still not truly healed.
Rival, she calls you with the tone one would use to say a pet name. It gets your hopes up, in more ways than one. But you aren’t worthy of being her rival — that much is obvious to anyone. You aren’t an obstacle in her path.
You are not worthy of her or of Leon.
Deep within the Slumbering Weald, Zamazenta snarls at you. You sympathize; the poor thing must be frightened, and all it has is you.
You approach it slowly, mindful of the sharp teeth centimeters away from the tips of your fingers. The words that come out of your mouth aren’t important, but your tone is soft and quiet, hoping to soothe the Pokémon.
And then, by some miracle — or lapse in judgment — you gain its trust. When Sonia and Gloria finally catch up to you, they find you scratching Zamazenta behind the ears.
“Hop,” Gloria says, voice breathy with wonder. “You’re amazing!”
You turn and hide your face, hoping she can’t see just how much her words affect you.
“If you’ve been accepted by Zamazenta, then it must know that you’re worthy of it!”
Worthy. The word echoes in your head again and again, carving itself into your skull. Zamazenta looks at you with trusting eyes, and you swallow down the lump in your throat before reaching for a Poké Ball.
“Say, Hop,” says Sonia, twirling her hair around a finger. “Fancy becoming my assistant at the lab?”
Your mouth falls open, and you gape at her like a Magikarp. “What?”
She tells you about how she’ll oversee your studies, about how she has more books on Pokémon than you could ever want, about how she thinks you’re the perfect person for the job. In the face of her persuasive onslaught, you can only respond in the affirmative.
You have gotten so used to living in the shadows of others that it is only now you realize how beautiful the light can be.
It has been weeks since Leon’s defeat, but the celebrations in honor of the newest Champion are still in full swing.
You take a break from the intense studying — or rather, Sonia forces it on you.
“We’ve been working too hard,” she announces, “and we deserve to take a break!”
By now, you’ve learned several times over that when your boss gets an idea into her head, there’s no talking her out of it. And so you go to the party, stand in a corner of the room and watch as Gloria is assaulted by a mob of ardent admirers.
It isn’t long before a familiar presence comes to join you.
“Look at you, Hop! I’ve reckon you’ve grown… exactly a quarter inch since I last saw you!”
You swat off the arm that comes to rest on your shoulders. “I’m surprised you got here on time, Lee,” you say. “Did you get lost on the way?”
The two of you maintain the facade for a few seconds longer until you laugh; the first that you share in far too long.
“Sonia’s been telling me about the lab,” Leon says. “She says you’ve been working really hard. Having a champion time?”
“Something like that. I'm giving it my best with my studies. It's not easy, but it's still great fun!"
Leon laughs. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. It’s good that you’ve found something you love.”
You take apart his words and hold a magnifying glass to each one, trying to listen for even the slightest hint of bitterness. There is none to be found.
“What about you, Lee?” you ask before you can stop yourself. “What are you gonna do now?”
With a glint in his eye, he tells you about the upcoming Battle Tower, about how he’s going to make the people of Galar stronger, about how he’s going to keep having a champion time.
In the face of his excitement, you feel yourself shrivel up. It means nothing for someone like you to pursue something new, to finally give up after too many failures, but Leon has always been unbeatable, a pillar of strength and determination.
“But…doesn’t that bother you?” you ask, voice rising with each word. “You were the Champion! You were always meant to be the Champion! How can you just switch things up like that?”
Leon, looking completely unfazed in the face of your anger, shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe I was just meant to be the Champion until Gloria was ready to take over.” He pauses then, a thoughtful look coming over his face. “Or here’s another possibility: maybe I was never meant to be the Champion at all. Maybe none of us are ever meant to be anything.”
At that, your breath hitches in your throat. “Then…what do we do?”
“You can just be whatever it is that you want to,” he says softly. “And it looks like you two are already on that path, eh?”
You follow his gaze over to the Champion, who is overlooking her devotees in favor of scanning the room for something — or someone. Her gaze comes to rest on you, her hand rising in a wave.
You return it half-heartedly, still ruminating on Leon’s advice. “I’m gonna go for a walk,” you say to no one in particular, and you hardly hear Lee’s response before you’re through the front door.
The night air is cold and bites at your skin, but you’re grateful for it. It grounds you, whipping around your face until it stings.
You walk and walk until the sound of the party dies away behind you, until you’re blissfully left in the quiet and alone with your thoughts. That is, until the pounding sound of footsteps rings out from behind you.
When you turn, it’s to see Gloria running up to you.
The sight of her, panting and out of breath and beautiful in the moonlight, is so shocking that all you can think to say is, “You’re supposed to be at the party.”
“Why would I want to be at a party where you aren’t there?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
Sometimes you wonder if she does this on purpose. You know that she has no trouble speaking her mind, but more and more often she’ll say something that completely leaves you speechless, and she does it as though she’s merely commenting on the state of the weather.
“Are you all right?” Gloria asks. “You kind of rushed off back there.”
“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I just came out here to think. Sorry if I worried you.”
“Don’t apologize for that,” she says. Another apology is on the tip of your tongue, but you manage to swallow it down just in time.
The two of you, then, lapse into silence. You don’t know why you can’t find anything to say. You’ve always been able to talk to Gloria; it’s always been something easy, something that you don’t have to think about, the one constant in your life.
“So,” you begin, “how’s life as the Champion treating you?”
She brightens at the question. “If this is what my future looks like,” she says, gesturing back to her house where the party is still going on in full swing, “then I’m gonna be pretty busy. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’ll be fun! But busy.”
“No doubt,” you agree. “But you’ll be ace at it, I know it.”
Gloria beams at you. “I’ll never be too busy to come visit you, though,” she says.
You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you don’t.
“Gloria,” you ask instead. “Did you ever feel like you were meant to be the Champion?”
Gloria looks surprised at the question, and you can see why. You haven’t really spoken about the subject of her new position, aside from a few congratulations and well wishes. Someone else would have given a cursory answer, but you appreciate the fact that she takes a moment to think through her answer.
“I don’t think so,” she says finally.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t know about ‘meant to be’ but I wanted to do it, so I just did.” She looks at you and smiles a bit guiltily. “Sorry, I guess that’s a bit too simple, isn’t it?”
You think about it, then, and maybe it isn't, not really. Maybe you’re the one who’s been complicating things.
It starts raining, then, all of a sudden. A great downpour comes onto you, slapping at your skin. Once again, just like when you were children, Gloria squeals in displeasure. Part of you is pleased to hear that. No matter how much you both change, it seems like some things never do.
“Come on!” Gloria shouts over the sound of the rain. “Your house is closest!”
She takes a few running steps but then pauses when she realizes that you aren’t with her. She looks over her shoulder at you. “Hop!” she calls. “What’s wrong?”
You take one step toward her, and then another, and before you can think about what you’re doing, you’re taking her face in your hands and you’re kissing her.
You’re kissing her and you’re kissing her and by some miracle, she’s kissing you back. The rain pounds down on you but you barely feel it, the entire world fading away to nothing more than the feeling of her lips on yours.
When she finally pulls away, she’s smiling.
“Sorry,” you say, but you’re smiling too, the force of it threatening to split your face in two.
“Don’t apologize for that,” she says reflexively. “What was that for?”
“I wanted to do it, so I did,” you say.
She giggles. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” you say. “You were right — sometimes it really is just that simple.”