Spikemuth gym leader now has a name. Decided to give him one. Can suggest a better name.
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The whispers among Stow-on-Side's residents grew louder. One by one, people paused what they were doing, standing still as if paying silent respect. Their eyes locked onto the four figures walking down the main road.
Shiro pretended not to see or hear any of it. Right now, their top priority was to find Granny Shae and assist the professionals wrap up this mission.
Next to him, Marvin looked just as unconcerned. Hands folded behind his head, he walked with an air of lazy confidence, like some pampered heir out on a casual stroll.
Allister and Nessa, on the other hand, were visibly uncomfortable. Both kept their heads low, trying not to meet the crowd's eyes.
This so-called sandstorm and wild Pokémon rampage—at its core, it was all the doing of the Macro Cosmos. It was a full-blown conspiracy. They'd thrown the townspeople's lives into chaos just to further their own selfish goals.
It had only been a few days, yet Stow-on-Side was already in complete chaos. Like a pot of boiling vegetable soup, everything was a mess. And in the places they couldn't see, there were probably countless bodies—people who got caught in the crossfire and didn't make it out.
And the ones who actually resolved the Pokémon riot weren't even them. It was Leon. Their special team barely had any real part in that.
As Shiro moved through the street, he kept scanning his surroundings, searching for any trace of Macro Cosmos employees. Logically, if Granny Shae had summoned them here, then the company should have already made their move. But so far, all they'd seen were crowds of residents showering them with praise. It felt staged, like walking through a play.
The thought flashed through Shiro's mind, and in that moment, he realized what the problem was.
Just then, a man's voice blared from a nearby alley, amplified by a loudspeaker:
"Ladies and gentlemen! We're now standing in Stow-on-Side, in the aftermath of the devastating sandstorm! And those four standing in the center of the street, need I say more? They are the heroic trainers who ended this crisis, drove the rampaging wild Pokémon back to their dens, and rescued over a dozen stranded victims from the desert!"
Before Shiro could react, the cheering crowd parted in perfect unison, forming a path like a curtain being drawn open.
Out strode a man in a pale blue suit, hair slicked back, sporting a neat little mustache and holding a microphone. He was followed closely by six muscular cameramen, each carrying bulky recording gear. In the blink of an eye, they encircled Shiro's team, lenses aimed from every angle, holding their poses like trained professionals.
'What the hell is this…'
Still in shock, Shiro blinked as the mustached man shoved the microphone right up to his face and asked:
"Young and valiant Trainer, may I ask, what compelled you to brave the fierce sandstorm, venture into the wilderness, repel the wild Pokémon, and save those in distress?"
Shiro took a moment to steady himself, then glanced at the reporter, the well-prepared crowd, and the clearly staged setup. Without thinking too hard, he replied:
"Justice, of course! I couldn't stand by and watch wild Pokémon destroy the towns. I didn't want to see the people of Stow-on-Side and Ballonlea suffer, not while I could still do something about it."
"Wonderful!" The man's eyes widened with admiration, nodding slightly. Then he raised his voice. "And may I ask, where are you from? Which place do you represent?"
"Spikemuth!" Shiro answered loudly. "I'm an official League Trainer from Spikemuth!"
...
Meanwhile, far from the cameras, inside Spikemuth Gym.
The Gym Leader stood surrounded by a dozen people, all gathered in front of a large television screen mounted on the wall.
"Emergency League broadcast? Related to Gym Challenges? And it's forcing all channels to switch?" Dressed in all black, Silas crossed his arms and led his children and Team Yell leaders in watching with a look of disdain.
The broadcast soon shifted to Stow-on-Side, showing cheering townsfolk before zooming in on Shiro and his three teammates.
"What is this crap? One of Rose's dogs... what is he trying to pull now?" Silas scoffed coldly.
On the couch nearby, Piers slouched in a magenta and white street-style outfit, chin resting on his palm. "Who cares," he said flatly. "Just another round of pointless League propaganda."
The moment he spoke, the surrounding Team Yell captains all rushed to echo him.
"Yeah, totally!"
"Couldn't agree more!"
"Master Piers is absolutely right!"
Hearing this, Silas furrowed his brow and barked, "What are you idiots yammering about? Quiet!"
At the same time, the camera on the television focused on Shiro's face, following the microphone as it moved. After a round of superficial chit-chat—
"I'm an official League Trainer from Spikemuth!" he declared on screen.
The second those words left his mouth, the gym fell into dead silence. Team Yell members glanced around, expressions ranging from confusion to unease, none of them could figure out what was happening.
At the back, Marnie stood quietly, eyes fixed on the television. Her expression was complicated.
'Why him?'
She distinctly remembered Shiro barely escaping Spikemuth not long ago. How had he ended up on TV—and as some kind of town-saving hero?
The silence in the gym stretched on as the reporter peppered Shiro with more questions, this time about Spikemuth. As the answers kept coming, a certain uncomfortable truth began to sink in.
This guy… really was from their town.
Standing at the very front, Silas squinted hard at the television, then muttered, "What kind of nonsense is this?"
He rubbed his eyes and leaned in, studying the face on the screen with increasing skepticism.
"He's one of ours? Why don't I recognize him at all?"
"Uh… maybe his parents used to live here?" one of the grunts blurted out.
"Yeah, yeah! That's gotta be it!"
"Right, totally!"
"Sounds about right."
A wave of echoing voices followed. Some of them actually knew who Shiro was. Some knew bits and pieces of the truth. But everyone understood how things really worked in Team Yell: it wasn't smart to speak too plainly about internal politics.
Even the Gym Leader. Who knew if he was actually clueless… or just playing dumb?
Back on screen, the mustached reporter leaned in again, holding the mic toward Shiro.
"And may we know this brave young trainer's name?"
"I'm Shiro," he replied.
As soon as the words left his mouth, the reporter let out a dramatic shout, eyes wide with excitement. "I knew it! I've heard of you! Shiro, you're that famous prodigy from Spikemuth, aren't you? What brings you all the way here? Are you preparing for the upcoming Gym Challenge?"
"No…" Shiro lowered his voice, a trace of sorrow in his eyes. "I'm actually not qualified to compete."
"Not qualified!?" the man practically shrieked. He immediately launched into a flurry of guesses. "But you're so young, so talented! No signs of injury or illness. Could it be… some hidden reason? Don't tell me the Gym Leader's recommendation never reached you?"
"Uh…" Shiro hesitated, looking troubled.
Suddenly, the mustached reporter yanked a bystander into frame—a man in a uniform bearing the logo of Macro Cosmos. He shoved the mic under the man's chin.
"Sir! Can you tell us who received Spikemuth's Gym endorsement this year?"
"It was Piers!" the man said bitterly. "That good-for-nothing, fame-chasing rock musician!"
The camera cut to a close-up of the reporter, whose face contorted into exaggerated disbelief, as he asked:
"And what is this rock musician's connection to the Gym Leader?"
The man spat out his words with disgust. "He's the Gym Leader's only son!"
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