Even slacking off takes skill and strength.
Take Cynthia, for example, she can afford to relax at the Sinnoh Pokémon League without anyone daring to question her. That's not "slacking off", that's called living well, letting go of the noise, and focusing on herself.
But if a lesser-known Trainer tries the same? Suddenly, it's "a lack of ambition," "wasting potential," "failing to plan for the future." And just like that, they're on the verge of being replaced.
Diantha couldn't wrap her head around Luther's apparent lack of drive.
She and Cynthia had reviewed every battle he'd recorded. His first match was shaky; he lacked confidence and looked distracted, but he adjusted mid-fight, and that kind of real-time turnaround was something most Trainers couldn't manage.
A lot of people think keeping cool during a match is just a matter of willpower, as if staying calm and seizing victory is something you can will into existence. "If I were out there, I'd do it too," they say.
But in reality? Trainers with a weak mindset begin to unravel the moment things go sideways. Forget regaining control, just not falling apart entirely would be a decent showing.
The whole thing reminded Diantha of a running joke from the Sinnoh Region.
"What's so scary about Cynthia? Just build a team to counter her, Synchronize to handle Spiritomb, a high-level Electric-type to bring down her tanky Milotic, a Fire-type to roast Roserade, a solid Grass-type to anchor the match, Gastrodon to wall her out, then a Weavile to mop up, and you're set. Togekiss and Garchomp? Easy cleanup."
It sounds airtight on paper, but reality is another matter entirely.
How many Trainers had Cynthia steamrolled even when she was at a type disadvantage?
Most challengers crumble as soon as one element of their plan breaks down. When Cynthia dismantles a key piece, the rest of the team often follows in a panic.
Diantha had watched plenty of Cynthia's matches. She is ruthless, efficient, and she has seen countless opponents who didn't even make it to the final Pokémon. They got so overwhelmed they forgot their strategy, their options… even what they were trying to achieve.
If she is asked about those matches, Cynthia would often say, "Not bad. At least my Pokémon worked up a sweat."
Luther still lacked a bit of confidence, sure, but not composure. That was rare.
He was the kind of Trainer meant for the spotlight, someone who could stay calm, calculate quickly, and read the flow of battle with clarity.
A Trainer who always knew what move to make, how to adjust to their opponent, and how to track the condition of their team, Luther clearly had a future ahead of him.
Diantha supported Cynthia's belief in Luther, not just out of trust, but because she genuinely admired him too.
Which was why Luther's apparent lack of ambition baffled her.
From Luther's perspective, though, Diantha's life was the mystery.
A public figure constantly on the move from one event to the next, with barely a second to herself, and yet she didn't seem to mind.
Shouldn't someone at her level get to enjoy what they've earned? If you reach the top only to keep chasing more… isn't that kind of sad?
Luther chalked it up to differences in upbringing, in values, how could they understand each other's happiness when they came from completely different worlds?
For some, fulfillment came from achieving goals. For others, it came from slowing down and enjoying peace.
You are not a Magikarp; how could you understand the joy of swimming in the current?
Sweating and out of breath, Luther and Diantha returned to the hotel and headed to their rooms.
Mai was already asleep. After an energetic day, even she, despite her usual boundless energy, had taken a shower and dozed off with her headphones on before Luther got back.
He tiptoed into the bathroom, took a quick shower, checked the clock, and saw it was nearly midnight. A wave of exhaustion hit him like a Surf attack.
The night run had completely drained him. He collapsed onto the bed and was out almost instantly.
Just before slipping into unconsciousness, Luther idly wondered if he would still be hunched over a desk, working overtime at this hour if things hadn't changed.
…
Oleander, meanwhile, hadn't left her office.
Was she working late again? Probably, but for Oleander, that was normal.
She was used to burning the midnight oil. Work was her way of keeping the world steady beneath her feet.
The International Police had practically turned her into a myth, people whispered stories of her crashing overnight in her office, hanging spare clothes by the window, always having a sleeping bag stashed nearby. Some even claimed they'd seen her walking out of the women's bathroom at HQ before dawn.
Technically, Oleander had a small house on the outskirts of Lumiose City, but she barely made it home once a week.
If Luther saw Diantha's drive as just a personality quirk, his view on Oleander's lifestyle would have been clearer:
She was punishing herself.
Someone who sacrifices all their personal space to bury themselves in work isn't devoted, they're consumed by obsession.
To someone like that, Luther could only respond one way: keep his distance, and keep it growing.
People like that burn like torches. And when someone sets themselves ablaze, the only smart move is to stay away from the fire.
But Oleander didn't see herself as a burning torch. She saw herself as a capable Deputy Minister of Safety, nothing more.
Her sleep was always light. Just moments ago, a security officer doing routine patrols noticed the light still on in her office, stepped out of the elevator, and approached with a flashlight to check.
The instant she heard footsteps, Oleander jolted awake, grabbing a Poké Ball from her desk by pure reflex. Only when she confirmed the fading sound of retreating footsteps did she ease back into her chair.
It was almost midnight, and Oleander sighed quietly. The answer she was waiting for probably wouldn't come tonight.
Director Yew had bought her a bit of time earlier, but that extension came with a cost; the regional authority was suspended, and the deadline was midnight tonight.
After the meeting, Oleander went straight to the hospital to pick up her health report and prescription.
She gave the report a cursory glance before locking it away in a drawer.
Now, in her dimly lit office, Oleander stared at the documents scattered across her desk, each one accompanied by a photograph. After a pause, she reached for the one closest to her.
She knew she shouldn't keep digging into Luther.
The Pokémon League had made a subtle stance earlier that afternoon. And with Luther being at the center of the incident, he was now the League's poster boy, someone who needed to be handled delicately.
Still, Oleander flipped through his file carefully, page by page. The International Police had compiled every bit of information the regional Leagues had provided.
Orphaned young. Diagnosed with Poképhobia. Significant time spent at Pokémon Centers. And most recently, his stunning debut at Professor Rowan's Research Lab…
Oleander had never liked "geniuses." Her ex-boyfriend had been called one.
Ever since that relationship, she'd harbored a deep, instinctive suspicion toward people branded as prodigies.
And Luther? His recent performance was nothing short of genius-level.
A rookie who forced Professor Rowan to yield under pressure. A Trainer who took down a Mismagius enhanced by a battle amplifier. One who made Oreburgh Gym Leader Roark look like a mere stepping stone.
His rise had been far too fast and far too clean.
His battle instincts, his precise reading of match flow, and his deep understanding of Pokémon behavior, none of it added up for someone who supposedly feared Pokémon until recently.
Could someone have been helping him in secret? An elite Trainer, perhaps? Someone who guided him past his fears and shaped him into a powerhouse?
Even more unsettling to Oleander was the timing.
She suspected, though she had no hard proof, that Luther might have ties beyond mentorship. Could he be in a relationship with Cynthia? Or Diantha?
The moment she assigned Ruiyan to follow him, both Cynthia and Diantha had stepped in to shut it down. Coincidence?
Oleander didn't think so.
(End of Chapter)
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