The Ghost Specialist

Sam did his best to train—he really did. Except, on his own, he didn’t have his mother’s guidance or Delcatty to face in spars.

Taking jobs gave him ways to train and earn a bit of money as he did, but the few he managed to snatch away from the crowds tended to be manual labor or scaring away weak wild Pokémon. He tried to battle the occasional trainer, too, but he had the same problem in that most trainers as inexperienced as him were too intimidated by Cyndaquil to actually fight.

As for Redi, she was adamant that there would be no contact between them. It wasn’t that she was trying to keep him away, but when Sam had mentioned keeping his training a secret back when he was properly recruiting Mankey, she had become enchanted with doing the same with her own practice with Teddiursa.

Was Sam prepared?

Well, to answer that question, he would reply with one word:

“Maybe.”

Cyndaquil was in a solid state, though she didn’t have a handle on Flame Wheel. As for Mankey, he was still a new capture, but his agility could give him an edge in battle.

Keeping all of that in mind, Sam headed over to where the preliminary battles would take place that day. The number of competitors would be narrowed down to only thirty-two, with the applying Pokémon trainers dividing themselves up between all of the different Pokémon Centers in Olivine City.

Sam was assigned to the same Pokémon Center he had registered at; he went to the main Pokémon Center in the middle of downtown. Redi, though, was going elsewhere, so he went to participate in these battles alone.

Surprisingly, when he entered inside, it was slightly less packed today, with the room having plenty of space to loiter around. However, Sam soon learned why, as after following a nurse’s directions to a room deeper in, he saw where most of the trainers had gone.

This place wasn’t just a Pokémon Center, it was an entire facility. Stepping past a set of double doors, he entered a room with a two-by-two grid of battlefields. Stands lined its sides, and trainers filled those stands. There were trainers of his age, trainers years older, and even a handful that almost seemed too young to be here.

He couldn’t stop his amazed intake of breath. This place was ridiculous.

“And this is only to determine who’s actually competing,” he mumbled.

The room was solely for the preliminaries!

Heart thrumming with excitement, he climbed the steps up to the stands to take a seat and watch the proceedings. It didn’t take much longer for the last stragglers to file in and for someone to step into the center of the room.

“Hello everyone! Thanks for showing up,” a pink-haired nurse said into a mic set up on the ground floor. “The plan for narrowing down our challengers is simple; if you look behind me, we have a system set up for randomizing matches. Your names and pictures will be pulled up alongside an opponent, and you need to win your fight to continue. Today's matches will be double elimination—lose two battles and you're out! Other than that, I wish everyone luck! Our first matched pairs will appear shortly.”

Sam gripped his hands together. He eyed the board with all his focus.

With how many people are in this room, the odds are in my favor to not go first. And if I'm not first, I'll be able to scout out everyone who—

MATCH THREE - SAMUEL GREYSON VERSUS JOE YOUNG

Sam took one look at the board and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Truth be told, with four matches taking place at once, the odds of being in the first set weren’t impossible, just unlikely. At least, there was a bright side to this. Being in this first set meant people wouldn't know what to expect from him in these matches.

Then again, the same is true for my opponent.

Sam moved back downstairs, despite having just sat down. Trainers positioned themselves on the battlefields to face their foes, and volunteers moved to serve as referees on the sidelines.

The boy facing Sam was young; likely, he was one of the youngest people here. No more than ten or eleven, he wore a bright yellow shirt with a pair of shorts that looked comfortable and easy to wear.

“You aren't beating me! My Rattata is the best Rattata out there!” the boy shouted.

Sam might have only been fourteen, but he felt the difference in age now more than ever.

“Send out your Pokémon,” the referee said once Sam and the boy had taken up their positions in their respective trainer box.

“Cyndaquil.”

“Rattata!”

A few murmurs in the audience broke out when Sam revealed his Starter Pokémon, but not too many as there were still three other matches going on.

“Begin!” the referee shouted.

Both boys yelled their own commands.

“Ember!”

“Quick Attack!”

Cyndaquil's flames burned bright as the small, purple rat that was her opponent dashed across the ground. Its Quick Attack brought it right to her, but unfortunately for it, that meant Cyndaquil could attack that much easier.

The full force of Ember blasted it from only inches away.

“Rattata!” its trainer cried out in worry.

“Now, Tackle!” Sam said, capitalizing on how Rattata recoiled from the damage.

Cyndaquil lunged.

Her head smashed into Rattata's side, and it was knocked back. After that impact, it sprawled out across the ground, completely unconscious.

“Rattata is unable to battle. Cyndaquil is the winner!”

“...Huh?”

Sam blinked.

Wait. That’s... that's it?

Cyndaquil only used two of her moves.

The boy looked like he wanted to cry as his Pokémon disappeared into a flash of red light. He at least gave Sam a respectful nod before rushing back off to the stands. Then, just like that, the next set of trainers started to head downstairs to claim Sam's spot.

Sam made sure to watch carefully at the matches that came after his. Each was similar—one-on-one matches between low level Pokémon. Except...

There’s something to be said about the quality here, huh?

An Oddish relied too much on its draining moves and struggled to land a decisive blow that would finish off its opponent.

A Pidgey spammed Gusts at its grounded opponent, but its aim was off.

A Caterpie successfully trapped its opponent within a String Shot web, but now it couldn’t approach its flailing opponent without getting trapped itself.

Sam hadn’t been in a tournament before. Heck, the most he usually saw of tournaments were only the finals that were streamed on T.V. or of recordings posted online. This was the first time he’d ever been someone participating in one, so this was the first time he’d actually seen behind the scenes.

“There wasn’t anyone who was prevented from signing up; anyone could compete as long as they were a beginning trainer. Given that...” Sam stood up and leaned against the stands’ railing to better eye a Mareep that was somehow incapable of using Electric Type moves. “No wonder these preliminary matches are taking place. They’re trying to make sure only the strongest of beginners get through. This is to separate the wheat from the chaff.”

His comment got him a side-eye from a trainer on a nearby seat, but Sam didn’t pay them any mind.

I guess it makes sense. Huh. Most people who go on their journey don’t plan on making it to the end, they just want to see how many Gyms they can beat. Outside of them, there are people who actually want to spend their life as Pokémon trainers. Those are the people who are doing well in these matches.

Sam was a novice, yes, but he had spent a month practicing under his mother and the past week of his life training. How many people here had only a single Pokémon caught in the past few weeks? How many people here had been in only one or two battles before this?

As Sam watched, someone else stepped up. She had long blue hair that draped around her shoulders.

“Match between Eliza and Tony, begin!” the referee called out.

Under Eliza’s command was a Slowpoke, of all things, and she was facing off against a Pikachu. The Electric Type’s trainer grinned and pointed forward at Eliza’s Pokémon.

“Easy win. Use Thundershock.”

The Pikachu sparked with electricity and charged, intent on releasing all of that energy in a super effective attack against the Water Type. It reached Slowpoke within seconds, yet Eliza did nothing. She brought up a fist to settle her chin on, attempting to project an aura of calm despite how her eyes nervously flicked about.

She mumbled something, but Sam was too far away to hear what she said; Pikachu suddenly locked up, stumbled, and its Thundershock failed.

“What?” its trainer said in shock.

A second later, Slowpoke’s eyes glowed, and a Confusion sent Pikachu crumpling to the floor. A psychic-blue aura outlined the Electric Type before finishing it off.

“Pikachu is unable to battle. Slowpoke is the winner!”

The blue-haired trainer cheered and happily returned her Pokémon. Her opponent returned his and stormed off, grumbling.

“She’s definitely going to become a threat down the line,” Sam mumbled. “Redi said something like all of the tournament’s finalists have high odds of making it to the Conference, right?”

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching him before pulling out The New Pokédex. He flipped to the entry on Slowpoke to figure out the move it used.

Disable. It canceled Pikachu’s attack before it could land.

Sam made note that Eliza was someone to watch out for.

Trainers came and went, showing off either impressive skills or a surprising lack of. Although, there were still others who slotted well in between.

Sam’s second match was against a Pidgey, and he used Cyndaquil again for this match. The bird Pokémon tried to pin her down with Gust, but a few ranged Embers prevented it from positioning itself in the air. Eventually, its trainer called out for Pidgey to dive for a Quick Attack, but a Leer stalled it for long enough for a Tackle to finish it off.

Second match down.

Battles continued throughout the day, and Sam continued to watch everyone with intense focus, and he had other matches himself. Two more came and went, and this time around, he continued to use Cyndaquil. It wasn’t that he was avoiding Mankey, it was just that he knew she was stronger. After witnessing some of the other trainers here, Sam didn’t want to risk sending out a Pokémon with less experience against a tough opponent.

Except, things changed in his fifth battle.

A Machop with bulging muscles and a personality to match rushed Cyndaquil before she could begin any attempts to keep away. She tried to ward it off with Ember, but her attack failed when its Karate Chop smashed into her stomach.

“Leer!” Sam shouted.

She glared at it, and it did waver for a moment. However, all the move did was open up its defenses, which wasn't enough to stop further attacks.

“Low Kick into Seismic Toss,” Machop’s trainer ordered.

The Pokémon swept out a leg, tripping Cyndaquil where she stood. She hit the ground and exhaled from the impact. The flames on her back flickered and petered out; while still conscious, she had thrown her everything into winning the previous matches. Now, she was paying the cost.

Machop lunged. It took advantage of how exhausted Cyndaquil currently was. Sam tried to call for a Tackle, but instead of the move landing, Machop wrapped its arms around her body and heaved her into the air.

“No!” Sam yelled.

It grinned, leaning back. Cyndaquil flailed in its arms, failing to properly start her flames. Then, in an instant, the Seismic Toss brutally slammed her into the floor.

Machop got back up. Cyndaquil didn’t.

Sam was certain that everyone watching had winced. After all, he certainly did.

“Cyndaquil is unable to battle. Machop is the winner!” the referee shouted.

The Pokémon returned to its trainer with a big, proud grin on its face, and it was met with a dual-high five. Sam’s opponent walked off victorious, but Sam was left to return the fainted Cyndaquil to her Pokéball in defeat.

“Thank you. I pushed you. You did well, regardless of my mistake,” Sam whispered to Cyndaquil’s Pokéball.

As he walked back up to the stands, he silently went over where he had gone wrong:

He had fallen into a trap of his own making.

I should have switched in Mankey to give Cyndaquil time to rest. By not dividing the battles between my team members, I ended up exhausting her and costing us that fight.

Sitting down, Sam was nervous. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat. Before, he had no losses under his name, so he had the safety net of a double-elimination bracket if he were to make a mistake. Now that he had lost? He was one defeat away from elimination.

He rubbed his arms. The room felt empty. Enough battles had occurred that the trainers who had lost twice had all mostly left. It wouldn’t be too long now before the preliminaries were over.

Then, sooner than he expected, there was a shout calling for the next set of trainers.

Sam’s head snapped up, and he eyed the display on the board.

FIELD TWO - VICTOR WRIGHT VERSUS SAMUEL GREYSON

Already?

He supposed it made sense he was being called up. With so many people already eliminated, the pool of remaining trainers was shrinking by the minute.

He left his seat to walk down to the field, where his opponent was already waiting for him. He was an older trainer, looking around eighteen or nineteen years old. He was dressed in a black, leather jacket and had stubble on his chin and a toothpick held between his teeth.

“Another kid, huh? This’ll be an easy win,” the man said, smirking.

Sam frowned and clutched Mankey’s Pokéball. At the referee’s shout, he sent out his Pokémon.

“Murkrow!”

“Mankey!”

“A Fighting Type? Sweet! We got a free match!” Victor cheered.

Appearing on the field was a black, crow-like bird with feathers in the shape of a hat on its head. It took one look at where Mankey was hopping between his feet on the ground, and somehow its beak curved up into a smirk not unlike its trainer’s own.

It was a dual Dark and Flying Type, meaning that Mankey had no strong advantage or disadvantage. Dark Types were usually weak to Fighting, but Flying resisted it. Unfortunately, the Flying Type was strong against Mankey’s Fighting Type, and there was also the added concern of Mankey’s ability to land any attacks.

Most people don’t think about how hard it is to punch a bird.

“Mankey. You still have one advantage, here. You’re freshly rested whereas this Mukrow has fought,” Sam said quickly. “Keep that in mind, and be our secret weapon!”

Mankey punched his hands together before holding them out, already ready to strike. He stared off at the cruel-looking bird. Even with his opponent having the advantage of flight, Sam was sure Victor would not live up to his name.

“Begin!” the referee shouted.

“Peck!”

“Leer!”

Both trainers shouted their commands at the same time.

Murkrow flapped its wings once to take off from the ground, flying through the air aimed right at Mankey. Mankey had known Leer when Sam first caught him, but now that they had time to train together, he had been able to pick up a few tips from Cyndaquil.

A mighty glare dug into Murkrow, yet the bird remained confident and flew straight forward. Mankey tried to strike without Sam even calling for an attack. Murkrow simply turned and pulled its body to the right to let its beak jab into him, unimpeded.

“Mankey!” Sam shouted.

His Pokémon cried out in pain.

Murkrow flew higher up in the air as Mankey rubbed the point where he was struck. He glared at it with another Leer, but the bird was far too smug to be bothered by such a look.

“Listen to me. I think Murkrow only knows physical moves. If you can time things right—”

“Peck, again!” Victor, Sam’s opponent, shouted. He then crossed his arms and scoffed. “Knew it’d be fast.”

Sam could see Mankey tense at that insulting comment.

This time, Murkrow came down in a dive-bomb, its head directly aimed at Mankey. Mankey didn’t move, and Sam closed his eyes.

I should have paced my team better. Mankey would have had easy wins in the earlier matches, and then Cyndaquil wouldn’t have been so tired for this one.

He readied himself to hear the one last cry that marked Mankey’s defeat, to hear the sound that would signal the end of his participation in this tournament—

Yet that sound never came.

Instead, he did hear Mankey cry out, but it was the cry of an attack followed by a dull thump.

Sam peeked open his eyes.

He caught the last second of Mankey landing a Karate Chop right to Murkrow’s neck.

A moment too soon, and Mankey’s strike would have missed Murkrow entirely. An instant too late, and Mankey’s strike would have only clipped Murkrow’s tail.

He timed it perfectly to land the strike right where Murkrow was vulnerable the most. The Karate Chop sent it back crashing around the ground, where it started to cough. Except, Mankey lunged forward to be on it before it could even think to recover.

His blow came out like a series of furious Scratches, but they were more like a mixture of everything Mankey knew. There wasn’t anything specific he was using, just raw attacks that contained elements of his other moves like Low Kick and Karate chop. It was simply pure, unadulterated rage that he was using to fuel his fight.

In other words, Mankey was behaving exactly like a Mankey. Victor should have known not to insult his strength.

Watching the ongoing onslaught, Sam made a mental note that this assault could be improved into Fury Swipes. He also made sure to keep his mouth shut so as to not ruin Mankey’s attacks.

Murkrow tried to fight back, but the bird clearly wasn’t used to having a monkey assault it so fanatically. Mankey threw his everything into this, overwhelming it, and before too long, the relatively fragile bird’s head hit the ground, unconscious.

Mankey jumped back and turned towards Sam and huffed, almost smirking at Victor and making light of all of the man’s previous, disparaging comments.

“...An easy win, huh?” Sam asked.

“Murkrow is unable to battle. Mankey is the winner!” the volunteer referee shouted.

Victor almost turned red with anger, but he closed his eyes and took a breath to calm himself down.

“...Good battle, kid.”

He didn’t sound like he meant it.

Still, he was politer than some opponents Sam had faced before, and the man headed out of the room. Apparently, his loss against Sam had been his second, eliminating him from the tournament.

I’m really glad I caught Mankey, now.

After shouting praise to Mankey, the Pokémon puffing up in pride, Sam returned him and went back to watching the remaining matches. More trainers went up and battled, but to his surprise, he was never called up again. The number of people in this room never reached its absolute minimum, as it did seem some trainers who had been eliminated stuck around to watch the proceedings, and there were a handful of more experienced trainers sitting around and watching this just for the sake of entertainment.

“Thanks for participating, everyone!” the same nurse from before said after one last battle concluded below. “To those of you who lost but stuck around, I wish you the best of luck competing in your next tournament! To the rest of you, we’ve finished narrowing down our competitors for the Beginner’s Tournament. You’ll see which of you managed to make it in and who your first opponent will be shortly! Make sure to visit the front desk to confirm your placement before leaving the Pokémon Center today.”

For a moment, Sam stared, both dazed and in shock.

I... made it in? That was our last battle? We have the chance to compete!

He wanted to get the Curse TM for Cyndaquil. No, he needed to get it. Learning at least one Ghost Type move would be critical, and Curse was his only idea on how to help her reach her final evolution. Mankey was capable of learning the move too, and Sam could already see a future in which Cyndaquil helped the Fighting Type gain a handle on Ghost Type energy.

He just needed to place and earn the TM, first.

However, when the screen above the battlefields turned on to display the tournament’s bracket, Sam almost choked on his spit in his throat. He could see a few familiar faces—Xavier, from the boat, and Eliza, that Slowpoke’s trainer—but Redi was there, too.

That wouldn’t have been an issue if it wasn’t for how things were set up. Sure, she had made it through her own set of preliminary battles, but the first round had placed her to create what could only be called a disaster.

Redi would be Sam’s first opponent in the entire tournament. Either she would place highly, or Sam would.

Only one of them would be able to continue onward.