Work Text:
“I don’t get it,” are the first words from Gloria’s mouth after defeating the ‘undefeatable’ Champion Leon.
The moments after her victory were little more than a blur, the deafening din of the spectator’s screams and the eye-straining combination of confetti and lights and Rotom-drone cameras zeroed in on her expression enough to shut down even the most hardened of battlers. Gloria would describe herself as anything but. If anything, she considered it a blessing when Hop came charging down the pitch at her, tears streaming down his face, and tugged her, wordless, back to the locker room. A sanctuary from the press.
He knew her so well, she thought. So well that there, wearing a replica of Gloria’s winning jersey, was Marnie, pushing upwards on her cheeks to smile as wide as she could. It was all Gloria could do to flop next to her on the bench, accept a timid kiss on the cheek, and place her hand atop her girlfriend’s in mutual silence.
Hop, for his part, was still pacing the room, head in hands, laughing like a madman. “Gloria, that was AMAZING! Bloody best battle I’ve ever seen, mate, and I’ve seen a lot of ‘em in my days. How are you feeling? I mean, you’re a proper champ now! You must be feeling aces, I know I would! To beat old Lee!”
“…Good job,” adds on Marnie, in her deadpan way. The fact she’s escaped her fan club for a moment like this says more than any congratulations could. “I already knew you were something else, though,” she tacks on to the end, ducking her head away. For someone so used to cameras and crowds, she’s a wilting rose one-on-one. It’s maybe one of Gloria’s favorite things about her.
Gloria and Hop had spent years of their childhood imagining what it would be like to win the Galar League, what they would say as they accepted the honor. Back then, they’d imagined bold declarations of being the strongest in the world, or falling to their knees pumping their fists, or… well, crying like Hop was now. Some things didn’t change; there was a reason he’d paired up with Sobble. But now that Gloria stands alone, the most standout trainer in the Galar region, she feels… empty.
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what? The ceremony? I can go check for you, scout out what the press is going to say, give you and Marnie some alone time,” Hop says, punctuating his statement with a wink. Before Gloria can stop him, he’s already run out, leaving just the two girlfriends in silence.
After a moment, Gloria continues. “No, I just… don’t get it. What’s so great about being Champion. I’ve been going for this for so long, training with you both, clearing the gyms, fighting my way through the tourney, but now… what’m I supposed to do as the Champ, huh? Who’m I supposed to beat now?”
“Huh?” Marnie asks, a hint of irritation in her tone. It feels sacrilegious to say as much, Gloria thinks, about two people who wanted the position more than anything. The little brother, forever in his Champion sibling’s shadow, and the girl fighting for her city, forgotten by Rose’s monopolized farce of a government. Compared to them…
“I wanted to become Champion because… I love Pokémon, I guess. But who doesn’t love the little buggers. Compared to you two, I’m just some Wooloo farmer’s kid. I don’t have some deep reason to win, somebody I’m fighting for, other than myself. So… I dunno. Now that I’m here, I don’t feel like I deserve it. Not after how hard you two worked.”
“What you’ve got to do,” Marnie says, a fire in her eyes, “Is to beat the two of us, the next time we come rarin’ for a fight. Glor, y’gotta give yourself more credit. If it weren’t for you… I’d have given up long ago on winning the Championship. Hell, I’d have probably been so worn down by Team Yell that I’d never leave my room again. Is that what you want, Glor? You inspire us, make us want to be stronger. And I already know you’ll fight like hell for Spikemuth, much as I would. ‘Cuz that’s the kind of girl you are, Gloria.”
It’s with a slow lean and a tentative kiss that Marnie seals her statement, the slightest of smiles lighting her face even as her blush betrays the intensity of her emotion.
“Hey, Glor, they’re on in five, they say!” Hop yells from the locker room’s entrance, echoing against the brick and metal. “Thought I’d give you a heads up!”
Gloria leans outwards, waves a thanks towards Hop and watches as he runs off, surely, to go see his own brother. She can hardly even believe Hop was rooting for her through all this, though the same is true for Marnie.
“Well, you heard our overactive friend. Go knock ‘em dead, Glor. I’ll be here.”
Maybe she’ll hate being Champion. Maybe she’ll abdicate the title the very next year, watch as the next generation, someone more deserving, comes along. Or maybe Gloria will grow into the art of showboating, of endless interviews and promotional deals. Either way, with some relief, Gloria knows she’s not alone.