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You have to attend the Pokémon World Tournament in disguise.
It's the price you gotta pay when you’re a famous movie star. Nate Black, famous for his large portfolio of diverse works, including but not limited to action packed flicks, sci-fi mysteries, fantasy adventures, and, most recently, horror thrillers, as well as being one of the highest ranking trainers in Unova, simply could not just show up at the World Tournament.
You are here as Rosa.
Your short hair is tucked under a long wig with twin tails, and you’ve traded your usual attire for a student uniform you looted from the costume department. As you land in Driftveil, no one bats an eye. Everyone knows Nate, but no one knows Rosa.
You feel…free. The freest you’ve felt in a while.
You could have just asked for an escort, but you don’t roll like that. You may be famous, but you aren’t that famous; you don’t need to be supervised 24/7.
Not like some of the other celebrities that have shown up to the tournament. Lance, Wallace and Steven, Cynthia, Iris and Alder, several Elite Four members from several different regions...all very famous, all very talented, all very important people, all with some form of a bodyguard, whether it was a tough-looking Pokémon, or a tough-looking person.
Clay really went all out for this one; the facility is massive. And there are people everywhere.
You see a lot of Unova’s Gym Leaders, past and present. You almost wave at a few of them, but that would ruin your disguise. None of them know Rosa, so none of them would recognize you. Brycen catches your eye; he’s the only one who gives you a slight nod, the tiniest of waves that was really just a couple of fingers raised in your direction. Of course he would see right through you.
Scrolling through Chatter with your earbuds in, you wait in line for registration. You Luv Bianca’s latest post about her most recent paper getting accolades, you Luv the official PWT’s post about the opening night ceremony. You Luv a picture Blue posted, a selfie with someone you assume is Red (their face is covered with a middle finger emoji, so you can’t be 100% sure, but there’s no one else it could be), sitting side by side on an airplane above the caption, Unova we’re coming for you!
You’re behind a couple (at least, you assume they’re a couple, with the way the ginger one can’t seem to keep their hand off the other’s back), and they seem to be bickering. Actually, just one of them is bickering; the other one isn’t engaging much. They sort of remind you of yourself and Hugh. You asked Hugh to come with you, but he said no because he was “busy,” whatever that meant. You wish he had come, though, it’d make things more fun. It’s gonna be a little lonely, not being able to interact with other people much.
Ginger’s hair kind of reminds you of Hugh, too. Spiky and stupid, but so purposefully styled you knew it probably took like an hour to make it look like that. You consider snapping a pic to send to him.
You do, quickly and stealthily. Ethics be damned. You call them twins, with two Qwilfish emojis.
The line moves. You take a step forward.
Your phone buzzes.
Hugh’s reply is just a wall of angry faces. You fail to hold in a giggle.
The one in the red cap turns their head just slightly, as if to see what you’re giggling about. Nosy. But you can sort of make out their profile now, rather than just the back of their head.
It's a young boy, around your age, with shaggy black hair. You notice the crooked nose, the slight scar on the bridge, the eternally down-turned lips with a sharp cupid’s bow.
Wait a second.
You know them.
It’s Red. Kanto's darling and current Top Champion, and your self-proclaimed biggest fan. They look a little different since you last saw them, since it’s been a couple years, but that’s definitely Red. You’d recognize that baby-face anywhere.
Which means the other one, who’s yapping his mouth off, is Blue Oak, Viridian City's Gym Leader, and their best friend. They’re hardly ever seen separate from each other, these days.
You know just about everything about Red. But, so does most of the world, to be fair.
They're most famous for being undefeated in their yearly Top Champion challenge matches, and for being one of the most notoriously difficult Champions to get a title from, partly from being near impossible to track down. Red defends their title like it’s their life.
Just one person, to your knowledge anyway, has managed to actually defeat them in a real battle, and she refuses to reveal how, usually only giving a coy smile to the camera in interviews anytime she's asked. (If Kris is here, you haven’t seen her yet. She did mention she was going on a journey through Hoenn next in her last public interview, so you aren’t sure if she was able to make it.)
Red knows you, because you met each other during a League Conference a couple years ago, where they (very shyly) told you you're one of their all-time favorite actors. They've watched every single movie of yours. Red is practically non-existent on social media (case and point, Blue censoring their face in his picture), but they do have a private Chatter account, and they Luv every single one of your posts, sometimes commenting a smiley face or another similar emoji. Right next to your mom, Red is your biggest supporter.
And they would recognize Nate from a mile away.
But...Red isn’t going to recognize you today, because today you aren't Nate; you're Rosa. And no one knows Rosa. It pains you, but that’s the cost of coming in disguise.
The line moves again. Red turns their head again, more, to look at you again.
They catch your eye, just barely from the corner of theirs. Just barely enough for you to see the dark brown, and as soon as they do, they do the most subtle double-take you’ve ever seen, then turn their head back around again to look at Blue, to answer a question he asked.
You flinch.
They recognize you.
How the hell do they recognize you? You thought your disguise was perfect. The make up, the wig, the dress...you don’t look anything like Nate. At least, that’s what you thought. No one else besides Brycen has recognized you, not yet. (Your own Pokémon hadn’t even recognized you, at first.)
Red and Blue are next in line. Blue finally leaves Red’s side and strikes up a conversation with the receptionist, a rather pretty brunette woman, and leans down over the counter. As he does, Red turns around completely to face you. You freeze under their gaze.
They're tall, about a head taller than you, and they push the brim of their hat up a little to look at you more clearly, the shadow it cast over their face disappearing; their normally tan skin looked a little pale under the harsh fluorescent of the lobby. Red’s baby-face betrays their true age of nineteen, and they really do look as though they’re your peer, but you know they’re almost six years your senior. (And, technically, an adult. It’s weird, to think about that.)
Their dark eyes run over you, examining, staring, evaluating. They scan you head to toe, from your wig to your Mary Janes, and back over. This must be what trainers feel when going against them on the battlefield: pure intimidation. You know they’re incredibly nice, but the look they’re giving you is a little...scary. Just a bit. You swallow. “Ah—”
“W-what's your, your name?” They ask, voice soft.
They recognize you…right? Otherwise they wouldn’t have said anything – Red doesn’t speak to people they don’t know. Why else would they have done a double-take? “Um…Rosa,” you say, with a terrible attempt at making your voice a little higher, a little more girly. You have many talents, but voice acting is not one of them.
Red nods. “Okay. Rosa.”
(And for some reason, hearing Red say your name, even though it isn’t really your name, feels...kind of good?)
“M-maybe we'll have the chance to, to fight,” Red continues. “I c-can’t wait to, uh, to see Serperior in...action, for m-myself.” A smile crosses their lips, a little teasing, quick and gone in a flash. “...unless you get eliminated, first.”
…huh?
Wait, what?
You could've sworn they recognized you. So…do they or don't they? They must, if they mentioned Serperior by name. But if they recognize you, why aren’t they mentioning your attire? Wouldn’t they be curious about why you’re wearing all this? Wouldn’t it be strange, to see someone you know is a boy dressed as a girl?
The signals you’re getting are mixed, and you're a good actor, but this is your friend. You can't keep up the front anymore, not to them. Red deserves better than that. “...Red, it – it’s me,” you say, dropping the falsetto, confusion clear in your voice. “Na—”
They cut you off, shushing you. It shocks you a little – Red isn’t the type to interrupt.
“I, I know. You...d-don't have to, to say it.” They glance around, then gesture for you to step closer. They drop their voice down even quieter than it was before. They’re so quiet, you have trouble hearing them, even though you’re right next to each other; their voice nearly gets swallowed up by the noise of the crowd. Their mouth is barely moving. “It's good to, to see you. Your…last m-movie was, uh, really good, too, b-by the way. Really good.”
Oh. So they were just playing it up. Clever. You smile. “Oh, Invaders?” You ask, keeping your voice quiet, too. It’s not your most recent, but your newest only came out a couple days ago, so they probably haven’t had the time to see it. But Red shakes their head quickly, readjusting their cap before it flies off.
“N-no, no,” they say, to your surprise. “The, the new one. Uh, G-Ghost Eraser.”
“You saw it already? It just came out, like, day before yesterday.”
“We – uh, Blue and I – we went to, to see it, t-together, on release d-day,” Red says with a fond smile. You should have guessed; Red’s your biggest fan, after all. “A midnight showing. You were t-totally b-badass, I l-loved it. He screamed, during the, the l-last act. But, uh, I d-didn't tell you that. He’ll kill me.”
Your most recent film was a sequel, the second in a potential trilogy of horror movies. You're typically type-cast as a plucky young hero, but this time you’re a survivor, the best friend of the final girl. Critics are already raving at how well you played the role, and you're incredibly proud of your work in it. “Aw, thanks. That really means a lot to me, you know.”
“Yeah, of, of course.” Red looks around again. “And, if, um…if you…if you, you want advice, you can ask B-Blue. He'd be m-more than happy to, to help, with, uh…with everything.”
…huh??
What’re they talking about? Advice? Help? With what? You aren't a Gym Leader. And sure, you're a champion, but Iris is Top Champion, currently, until she either steps down or loses in next year's match. You don't need any battle advice.
What advice could Red be talking about? What advice could Blue give you?
“...huh?” You say.
“W-with, uh…” Red trails off, and very, very vaguely gestures in your general direction. “Uh...you know. Being, um…go, going public. I, I don’t know, uh…I don’t know m-much about how it, how it works in, in Unova. B-but, your n-name on the credits was the, uh, the same, so…I, uh…I figured…this is…n-new…”
What the hell are they talking about??
Red sounds incredibly uncomfortable. But they keep talking. “A-and…and B-Blue’s pretty, uh…pretty good at, at helping with that, since he’s done it before. N-not to say that, uh, that I don’t want t-to, to help, I’m just…n-no good at, at public stuff. You know.”
You’re still terribly confused.
It must show on your face, because Red keeps talking. This is the most you’ve ever heard them say in one sitting. Actually, you’re pretty sure this is the most you’ve ever heard them say, period. “I, I m-mean, I’m…p-pretty sure a, a l-lot of n-news outlets still, uh…call m-me ‘he,’ but I don’t know how to, to correct them…at, at this point, it’d just b-be awkward to, to speak up, so I, I kinda just, uh…deal with it…? I dunno.”
Wait.
Back up.
Hold on.
The last half of their sentence was almost completely inaudible. But…
Red thinks you’re a girl. Like, actually a girl. That’s why they asked you for your name.
(You find yourself flattered.)
“No, no, I'm – I’m not…” You laugh a little. “Sorry. I'm just…cross-dressing, Red. So my fans don't recognize me? It’s just a pseudonym. A persona. I’m, uh, I’m not a girl.”
They blink, then their face flushes almost instantly. “O-oh…you aren’t? I, I'm sorry,” they say, embarrassed. “I, I thought that…um, sorry. Okay. Uh, you, uh…you…look good, then? I, I guess?” They shrug in exasperation. “I, um...I like your m-make up. You, uh, you l-look pretty.”
“Thank you,” you say with a grin, and ignore how hot your face suddenly feels. “I guess it is a good look, if it’s good enough to make you think I’m totally changing my lifestyle.”
Red smiles a little. “At l-least you kn-know now, I’d support you, n-no matter what.”
You both laugh at each other, at the situation. Blue pauses his conversation and looks at you two. “...who's your new pal?” He asks Red. Then, he stares at you, and narrows his eyes. “...wait a sec. Do I…know you?”
Maybe your disguise isn't as good as you think it is. Well, Red did say they just went to see your new movie a couple days ago, so maybe your face is just fresh in their minds? Though, maybe you should have guessed Red would recognize you; they are your biggest fan, after all. “No, I don’t think so,” you say. “But I’ve been told I have one of those faces. You know.”
“Are you sure? That's crazy,” Blue says, and you know immediately your cover is busted just by the way he says it, “because I know someone who looks just like you. You got a twin walking around?”
What an asshole. And Red's such a sweetheart. You have no idea how Red puts up with Blue. They must be really good friends.
Red punches his arm, and pretty hard by the way Blue winces. “Her n-name is Rosa,” Red faux-introduces you, even though the jig is clearly up. “We, we were just t-talking about how l-long you're taking. Have, have you, have you even paid yet?”
Blue takes the hint. He rolls his eyes and turns back to the reception desk, rummaging through his pockets for his wallet. “I was about to, good grief. Like how I pay for everything. Don't you make more than me? Hey, wait, aren't you technically my boss? Is this considered a work trip? Can I get reimbursed?”
“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Red gives you a look, holds one finger to their lips, and shakes their head. “I, I'll, uh…I'll buy dinner, tonight. How's that?”
“Hey, sounds good to me.” Blue finishes paying and turns back to the two of you. “I want the most expensive sushi possible from the best five-star restaurant in Castelia. Nothing less.”
What an asshole.
“You—” Red groans. “...fine. Whatever.” Then, with a ghost of a whisper under their breath, “shithead.”
You can’t help but agree.
“I guess we’ll see you around then, Rosa?” Blue asks with a playful lilt in his tone. Asshole. “I’m gonna warn you, though, this guy’s tough. They’re not gonna take it easy on you just ‘cause they like you, trust me. Think you got what it takes?”
Red rolls their eyes, but gives you a little smile.
Blue salutes, Red waves, and after Blue slings his arm around Red’s shoulders, they walk away together.
You go to hand over your Trainer ID and card. The receptionist takes your ID, but pushes your card back to you. “The young man in front of you paid for your spot,” she says.
“Oh,” you say. “Really?”
You don’t know how you didn’t notice him doing it, but maybe you were just too busy talking to Red. You aren’t exactly strapped for cash, but the sentiment is nice. Actually...no, it’s not. Because now you owe him. And you know for a fact he’s gonna hold it over your head. Great. You’re starting to think that asshole is too kind of a moniker for him. Red was right to call him a shithead.
You’re absolutely going to kick his ass if you get matched together.
She begins typing on her computer. The name ROSA appears on the screen in front of you. “Oh, um—”
“Our secret.” She presses a finger to her lips. “Smile for the camera.”
You blink, then smile brightly. A light flashes. A pass is printed out, custom made just for you, with the name Rosa printed under your new picture.
You look...really, really cute. Your heart stutters. Huh.
“Good luck, and have fun!” The receptionist says, and waves at you.
For this week, you are Rosa. No one knows Rosa.
No one except for your biggest fan, and their best friend.
But when you win this tournament, everyone will know Rosa.
The sound of the crowd screaming and ooh-ing and ahh-ing does nothing to assuage your nerves. You almost can’t believe you’ve made it this far, going head to head against the world’s strongest trainers. Red and Lance are currently battling; whoever wins is who you’ll be fighting for top spot. It plays on the TV in the prep room, which is otherwise silent, since it’s just you.
Well, you and Blue.
Blue’s watching the screen with rapt attention. In fact, he’s barely even said anything to you. He winces when one of Red’s Pokémon gets hit; he says yes when they land something on Lance. “Rooting for Red?” You ask, even though you know the answer.
“Huh?” He barely glances at you. “Yeah, duh. ‘Course. That’s my best friend. Who cares about Lance and his stupid dragons.”
The response elicits a snort out of you. “I thought you would’ve been hoping they’d lose. Since you’re rivals, and all.”
Blue makes a face. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. Maybe something like, my rival isn’t allowed to lose. In the last interview you saw of Blue, many years ago, he said he was proud to call Red his rival. Someone to keep him sharp, someone to keep him on his toes, ready for anything.
Maybe something changed.
“No offense,” you say, “but I hope they lose, only because then I know I’ll have a chance at victory.”
“Nah, you’ll win.”
Blue says it so easily, so quickly, you find yourself stunned to silence. He keeps talking. “Red’s form is sloppy. They’re making stupid mistakes. Tch. Like that.” On screen, Dragonite darts out of the way of Dragon Pulse, and Charizard gets walloped with a solid Ice Punch. “Lance’s Dragonite is faster than Charizard. Always has been.”
Huh.
“Have you ever watched Red fight?” He asks you. “I mean recently. I’m not talking years ago, I mean within the past...I dunno, two, three years.”
You shake your head, because you really haven’t. You used to watch reruns religiously as a little kid, way before you and Red ever met, but you haven’t watched any broadcasts since you had. You could look up the recordings, of course, they’re all publicly accessible, but you don’t really have time to these days, with your acting. (Not to mention how two years ago you were essentially saving Unova from a complete disaster, but that’s neither here nor there.)
“They’re putting on a show.” Blue cringes again as Charizard gets smashed with a rather impressive Draco Meteor. “For the audience. Well, trying to, at least. They’re doing a pretty piss-poor job of it right now.”
“I thought Red didn’t like doing that.” Always honest, always kind. Red was the model, the ideal Champion that everyone aspired to be. Young and headstrong, with a heart of gold.
“You don’t know Red.” Blue smirks at you. “They’re still hungover.”
You blink. Then blink again. “...what?” You exclaim, and focus your attention to the screen again. Red’s hat is pulled down far over their eyes, so you can’t see their face at all, even when the camera cuts close. The stage lights are bright, blinding, so it’s almost impressive that Red is still shrouded in shadow. You hadn’t noticed them acting any differently. Maybe they were a bit quieter than normal, but... “You’re not even old enough to drink.”
“Not here.”
“No, not at all.” You furrow your brow. You’re pretty sure the legal age in Kanto is twenty. “You’re nineteen.”
Blue grins wildly. “Not anymore.”
“It’s your birthday?!” And he didn’t say anything? Why would he want to keep it a secret?
“Two days ago.” Blue points to the screen. “Red’s was yesterday. So we celebrated. I got Lance to get us some stuff since I can’t buy it here legally.”
Okay, there’s a lot to digest in that. You didn’t know their birthdays were only one day apart. You didn’t realize you didn’t know when Red’s birthday was, until two seconds ago. You can’t believe Blue convinced Lance to buy them liquor, enough for Red to have a hangover. (Actually, that one, you can kind of believe. Blue’s a sweet-talker.) “...so—”
“So, they got totally shitfaced last night.” Blue gives you another winning smile, still a bit boyishly cute with his gap teeth, and arrogant as all hell. “I told them not to, since the finals were today, but they didn’t listen to me. Obviously. Not like they ever do, but what can you do.”
The crowd outside the locker room cheers even louder, somehow. Charizard is gone from the stage, and in his place is...a Clefable, with green ears. “Ooh,” Blue says, and you swear you can see stars in his eyes. “Uh oh. They must be desperate. Get ready to see something awesome.”
You’ve never seen Red use a Clefable. You didn’t even know they owned one that was competitively viable. Dragonite zooms in close with Extreme Speed, Clefable twirls and flies and dodges out the way to shoot off Swift, glittering stars flying fast to hit Dragonite dead on. Then, Clefable wags a finger, and a bright flash completely blinds you. It’s so bright, the screen goes totally white. A startled gasp rocks the walls, and the stadium falls dead silent.
When the camera feed returns, Dragonite is fainted on the stage, Lance is shielding his face with his cape, and Red is hitting their signature pose – hand on the brim of their tilted up cap, looking down their nose at their opponent, eyes examining the wreckage. It’s the same exact look they gave you in the lobby a week ago. But, just for a second, the corner of their lips twitch, like they’re holding back a grin.
The arena screams.
“...what...was that?” You ask, fascinated and confused. It wasn’t Flash, because Flash doesn’t do any damage.
Blue doesn’t answer you immediately. When you look at him, he’s smiling brightly at the screen, a look of pure adoration completely taking over his face. “That,” Blue says, and there’s a hint of something in his voice, something fond and proud, “was the first instance of the fairy type being used in competitive battle.”
Fairy type? How...cute. You’ve never heard of that before. But... “Clefable is a normal type,” you utter stupidly.
“We haven’t worked out all the kinks yet,” Blue explains, “but Pokémon that were previously one type can actually be more accurately classified as fairy, or ones that previously were just one type can be classified as dual. For example.” Blue points at the screen. “Clefable. It was considered normal, but it displays characteristics that are completely different from other normal types, and instinctively knows moves that have never been recorded. Until now. Due to a specialized, intense training regimen.”
You stare in awe as Lance sends out Salamence. Clefable stays on the field. Lance calls Dragon Claw. Clefable is completely unharmed. In fact, it looks bored. And then Red mouths something that isn’t picked up by the mics, and it uses a different move. A finger is wagged, and a bright ball of light materializes above its head. It fires off towards Salamence, so fast if you had blinked you would have missed it, and almost instantly, Salamence looks ready to faint. Your mind is reeling. What is this? What’s happening??
Blue points at the screen again. “For example,” he repeats, “FTS-dash-95-100-15-LightBall. Or, more concisely, Moonblast. FTS-dash-10-80-100-BrightFlash, Dazzling Gleam, is what she used earlier.” An arrogant look crosses his face, finger on the side of his nose. “I came up with the names.”
Okay, now he’s just bragging. But all his nerd talk is kind of making you realize you don’t know anything about that stuff. It’s going way over your head. What are all those numbers? Stats, maybe? What does FTS mean? You don’t know, and you don’t really want to ask, because you know Blue will tell you if you do, and then you’ll be even more confused.
Blue is a scholar, a learned man of research.
You, quite simply, are not.
He’s smarter than you’ll ever be, that’s just a fact. It’s kind of intimidating, nearly off-putting, how much he loves Pokémon and research. You already knew he did, but this is way more dedicated than you previously thought. This borders on obsession.
It leaves you completely dumbfounded. Absolutely flabbergasted. Red has a new type of Pokémon, one that was undiscovered until, apparently, very recently. One that no one knows anything about, except for them and Blue. You are going to have your ass handed to you on a silver plate. If Red has this as a last resort, who knows what else they have in reserve? “Is that...legal?” You ask, partly curious, partly desperate.
“Oh, yeah, totally,” Blue says, much too eagerly for you. “Don’t worry, I went through all the right channels to make sure this wouldn’t, like, get us banned forever from competitive battle. I would’ve lost my job if I hadn’t.”
Us?
“We made sure Iris and Clay knew, far in advance. We had a massive meeting with the League Association, about how it would be best to introduce this to the general public. We’ll be doing a press release after the tourney ends.”
We?
Blue pauses for a second, like he’s considering something. “Well, I’ll be doing a press release. Anyway, ‘cause of our work in Kalos, most of the major research big-wigs were already on our side. All it took was a little push.”
Our?
“Really, most of the issues came from trying to convince Clefable to work with Red.” Blue snorts a little. “She’s picky; she didn’t want to battle with anyone but me, since I raised her from an egg. But I was, unfortunately, eliminated, by a certain someone, so I didn’t get the chance to show her off.”
You ignore Blue’s pointed dig at your earlier match together. Because wait a minute. The gears are turning in your head. Pieces are clicking together.
Red and Blue were working together?
This was all planned?
Like, from the start? Then...
Was Red always going to win? Was it set up? You didn’t think Red would do something like that, at least not willingly, but you certainly wouldn’t put it past Blue.
“...how’d you know Red would even make it this far?” You ask, skeptical. “What if they had gotten eliminated, too?”
At this, Blue rolls his eyes like the answer is totally obvious. “Please. Red’s not gonna get taken out by some random nobody. They’re leagues better than that.”
That sounds more like the Blue you know. Nothing but high praise for his rival, because if Red looked bad, Blue looked bad. Red couldn’t afford to lose early, because their best friend was counting on, and expecting them, to get to this point. But still. How could he be so certain?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Blue says firmly. You blink. He’s giving you a pretty serious frown. “The only strings we pulled, if you can even call it that, was to make sure we were on opposite sides of the tree, and that was requested by Clay, himself. That’s it. Everything else was legit, totally and completely random. It was up to us to figure it out.”
Okay, now you feel a little embarrassed to have even suggested that it was rigged. They both love the competition, the challenge. Plus, Blue was smart. He probably had everything laid out perfectly as soon as the roster was announced, with a back-up plan and a back-up for the back-up. Blue was an asshole, but he wasn’t a cheater.
“But…” Blue clicks his tongue, a little annoyed. On the screen, Clefable uses a move you recognize, finally: Gravity forces Salamence to the ground. “They weren’t supposed to bring her out yet. They were supposed to wait until the final match. The plan we came up with was we’d ideally be fighting each other, but things didn’t quite work that way, and you eliminated me in the semis, so things changed. That’s why I said they’re desperate. They think they’re gonna lose.”
“So you thought you were gonna beat me?” You’re appalled he’d even suggest that. You were always gonna destroy him, it was just a matter of time.
“No offense.” Blue’s grin suggests otherwise. “But, yeah, I did. No hard feelings, though. That’s the way it goes, sometimes. I’m just gonna have to figure out how to work with this.”
Blue’s earlier comment replays in your head, about how Red is putting on a show. And now that you’re a little more engaged with watching, you can see it. The way they command Clefable, the way they move around the stage, it almost seems practiced. Intentional. A perfect strategy, down to every step, every breath.
It’s not at all like the Red you grew up watching. When they were younger, they were all over the place. It was all massive, high power attacks, bright and flashy with major risks of failure. It felt more real. More genuine. More...fun, acting like the kid they were, playing a game.
This is all an act. An attempted imitation of someone else, someone incredibly familiar. (You wonder if Blue realizes that. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, after all.)
They’re an actor on the stage, just like you. Putting on a performance to wow the audience, donning the carefully crafted mask of the perfect golden child, Kanto’s Darling Champion.
It’s not real. None of it is.
Blue was right: you really don’t know Red. Have you ever?
“Red went to Kalos with you?” You ask, because you’re genuinely curious. You knew Blue had gone, because he posted about it on Chatter, but he never mentioned Red, not even once. Maybe it was just to protect their privacy, like usual. Blue was really considerate about that.
But, Blue’s cheeks go pink. Huh. That’s a reaction. “What makes you say that?”
“You just said you worked together.” Was he not expecting you to pick up on that or something?
“Oh, well, yeah. Uh, kind of.” He seems almost embarrassed. “Well, we were on that research project together. I needed someone to help with mock battles and EV training, and I didn’t…” Blue hums. “Well, no offense to the Kalosian population, but I didn’t trust them to do exactly what I needed, when I needed. I knew Red would.”
What an interesting way of phrasing it. “They told me you went to see my new movie,” you drop casually. “A midnight showing?”
Blue’s blush spreads to his ears. Fascinating. “Yeah, we did. Uh...what’d they say?”
He’s probably trying to figure out if you knew he got spooked. Red asked you not to tell, so you don’t. “That they loved it, thought I was ‘totally badass.’” You smile at him.
“Oh.” Blue frowns. “...that’s it?”
Uh oh. Looks like he was expecting something else. “They seemed like they really enjoyed going with you,” you add. We – Blue and I – we went to see it, together. Red made sure to clarify to you that they went together, as though it was something significant. “...was it a date?”
That gets Blue going. “It – um – well, it’s not – I mean—” Blue’s face goes completely red as he sputters. It totally was. “I mean, not, uh...not unless they said it was…” He rubs the back of his neck. “It was just an outing, you know? As...friends...”
“Right. An outing to a midnight showing on release day to see one of their favorite actors in a brand new movie, even though you had a flight to catch literally ten hours later.” Blue levels you with a glare. You shrug. “Yeah, no, I mean, sure. Because my friends totally do that for me, just for fun. And they also always pay for everything, even though I make more money.”
Your last point makes Blue pout. After a moment where it seems like he’s contemplating his life choices, he sighs. “...yeah, it was a date,” he mutters under his breath. And despite how downright mortified he seems, it’s almost like a weight is lifted from his shoulders just by admitting this tiny snippet of info.
And you latch right onto it. You’ve always been a gossip; it’s yet another thing you know for certain you have in common with Red. (Sometimes, they’ll message you out of nowhere just to ask about rumored celebrity drama.) You keep up with tabloids, not out of vanity but out of pure love of the game. You like getting nosy and speculating about who’s dating who and who’s fighting with who.
Blue may not realize it, but people had been theorizing about the nature of their relationship for nearly five years, now. Ever since Red returned to the public eye, ever since they started never showing up on camera unless Blue was right by their side, ever since Blue started speaking on their behalf during press conferences. Red never spoke in public anymore; it was all through Blue, and no one else.
They were attached at the hip. Literally. Like how on first day of the tournament, when you were behind them in line, Blue’s hand was constantly on Red, somewhere. Their shoulder, their back, their arm.
“So you’re dating?” You blurt out, excited for this insider info. “Like, it’s official?”
Blue shrugs and hunches his shoulders. Aw, he’s shy. You didn’t think he was capable of it. “It’s...I dunno, it’s...a little complicated, right now...kind of. I guess.”
“Have you kissed yet?”
“Okay, I’m done.” He acts like he’s going to get up; you laugh and apologize, grabbing his arm. Blue smiles at you, and you find yourself a little stunned. It’s not a look you’ve ever seen on him before. And despite being freshly twenty, he’s blushing like a school girl. Cute. “Really, though,” he says, averting his eyes. “It’s not...official, official, y’know? I haven’t really, like...asked, yet, if that’s what they want. So...”
“I think it is.”
“You think?”
You think about how happy Red seemed when they mentioned their date to you, even though they hadn’t revealed it was a date. You think about how Red is using Blue’s Pokémon, right now, out in the arena, because Blue expected them to win, to make an impression that would shock the world into silence. You think about how Blue admitted there wasn’t anyone else he trusted with his research as much as he trusted Red. You think about how highly Red thinks of him, about how, even though it was a misunderstanding, they immediately said Blue could help you with transitioning publicly.
They both think the world of each other, that much is abundantly clear.
The fight is over. Lance has lost, Red is showered in confetti, and an absolutely minuscule smile is on their face. They, very quickly, scurry off the stage and rush to the locker room, and as they disappear from the camera feed, they step through the door. “How was that, Blue?” Red says. It almost sounds like they’re bragging. “D-did, did you, did you hear them?”
“Kinda hard not to,” Blue admits. Then, he frowns. “But that wasn’t your best, pal. You know Lance’s team. I can’t believe you let it get down to the wire like that.”
Red shrugs, makes a face. They take their hat off and shake their messy hair, getting confetti and glitter everywhere. “You, you say that l-like I, like I l-lost.”
“Almost,” Blue sneered.
“B-but I didn’t,” Red sneered right back.
“You nearly did. To Lance. C’mon, you’re way better than that.” It’s almost funny, how Blue’s insults come across more like hidden compliments. “You need to get your shit together. Quick. Before I’m embarrassed to be seen with you in public.”
Red scoffs as they replace their cap. “Whatever…” they mutter, tugging the brim tight to their forehead.
“’Whatever?!’” Blue throws his hands up, gives you a look of exasperation. “See what I gotta put up with? Un-fucking-believable. This is why I’m starting to find white hair.”
Red rolls their eyes. “Please. Rosa doesn’t c-care about your white hair.” Just like it had for the entire week, hearing them say your fake name gives you butterflies. Blue makes another comment of unbelievable. Red smiles at you with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. “I, uh, I guess it’s us, n-next, huh.”
“Guess so,” you say. But, you frown. Red mimics you, an unasked question coming from their raised eyebrow. “...I got a request.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
You hesitate. Because if you do this, it’ll be over. But, you think the benefits far outweigh the consequences. “...I want to fight you,” you say. Red’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Not whoever that was.” You point at the screen, where stagehands are cleaning off the arena to prepare for your battle. Then, you point at their chest. “You.”
Red and Blue share a look, a look that only two people who had been friends for nearly two decades could share together. Blue nods, and Red nods back. “Okay,” Red agrees. “Then, you’ll be you.”
You’d already figured they would say that. So, you pull your wig off, along with your wig cap, and shake your hair out, using your fingers to fluff it up. You won’t need to change, because your outfit was already pretty gender neutral today, and your make up was subtle enough to stay on. And when you look at the large mirror that covers the wall to the side, you find yourself...disappointed.
Rosa is no more. She’s gone, forever. As soon as you step out there, she will disappear completely, never to return.
You don’t...want that. You’ve grown fond of her. She’s just you, but...better. Because she’s not famous, not yet. She’s a mask you don’t mind wearing. You don’t want to just cast her to the side like this, she deserves better.
You don’t realize you’re just staring at your reflection until Blue clears his throat. You jump. “You okay?” He asks, like he knows something you don’t. Your wig is in his hands. “Nate.”
Your stomach lurches, and you try to swallow the lump that just formed in your throat. Huh. Weird. But you nod anyway, and force a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Be you,” Red says, rather forcefully. An intense, almost scary look crosses their face. “I, I’m n-not gonna fight a, a…” They squeeze their eyes shut, thinking. Then, they’re staring at you again, resolute. “...a fake.”
And when you take your wig back, and carefully tuck your hair back into it, and peer into the mirror to make sure your make up hadn’t gotten smudged, and straighten out your blouse, and twist and turn in the mirror to make sure you look okay before you get under the bright stage lights, you realize you have some thinking to do.
Just because your biggest fan wanted to fight you.
And you win, like Blue said you would. It was a close fight, down to the wire, but you win. Red gives you the biggest, brightest grin you’ve ever seen on their face. They look eleven again, back when the world was still full of wonder and intrigue.
You win, and you do it as you. And now, you can consider yourself a part of the exclusive club of trainers who have officially beaten the real Red.