Professor Oak

Pokémon Contest backstage preparation area

"Professor Oak, Elite Four Agatha, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to Hoenn as our guests."

A stern-looking old man wearing thick reading glasses shook Professor Oak's hand and spoke warmly.

"You're too kind. Without all the Pokédex information you provided back then, my research here couldn't have progressed so smoothly."

The ordinary-looking, flat-haired man before him was far from ordinary. He could even be called one of the legendary figures of the Pokémon World.

From a research perspective,

he was an authority in the Pokémon World. Five years ago, he published a paper on Pokémon attribute theory that laid the foundation for the major theories regarding Pokémon attributes.

He was also the first to advocate creating the Pokédex and classifying Pokémon by attributes and species. At the same time, he served as a research consultant for the Indigo League.

From the perspective of personal strength,

Oak Yukinari—among older generations of powerful Trainers, that name was practically a nightmare.

First, there were his achievements.

Champion of the fourth Fanba City World Championships in the Unova Region, Indigo League Champion, and Kanto Region Pokémon Wild Battle Champion.

And one had to know that the Indigo League hadn't abolished wild battles back then.

Pokémon could attack Trainers. Under those circumstances, the fact that Professor Oak won the championship spoke volumes about his strength.

If you weren't familiar with those two tournaments, their next champion, Lance—one of the future Masters Eight—had also participated in that kind of competition.

After winning those championship titles, Professor Oak hadn't become arrogant or complacent.

Instead, he vanished directly from the public eye and returned to Celadon University in the Kanto Region to continue studying Pokémon biology.

His main research topic was "The Relationship Between Pokémon and Humans."

He left as a mere researcher and returned as one of the most coveted professors in the Pokémon World.

The silver-haired woman beside him was the current Ghost-type Elite Four of the Kanto Region. Rumor had it that their relationship was rather unusual as well.

But that wasn't any of his business.

"Xiao Hai, take Professor Oak and Elite Four Agatha to the judges' seats."

"Yes. Please follow me, you two."

A somewhat plump middle-aged man jogged over to the old man and eagerly led the pair toward the judging area.

Agatha had no interest in Pokémon Contests. In her eyes, they were all showy nonsense. Moves only needed to be useful—what was the point of making them so flashy?

Real Pokémon battles were found in the Leagues of each region.

But Oak had owed the organizer—the old man from earlier—a favor many years ago. Since the man had extended an invitation, Professor Oak couldn't very well refuse.

A debt of gratitude had to be repaid eventually, so she had no choice but to come along.

Compared to dealing with social obligations, she preferred spending time with Ghost-type Pokémon.

At the same time, she looked down on Professor Oak's Pokémon research. What was the use of all that research? His strength hadn't increased at all, had it?

In her eyes, strength alone was supreme. Everything else was false.

She had come to Hoenn with him this time to awaken the Trainer's instincts within Professor Oak, hoping he would return to the ranks of Trainers.

Of course, this was also the last time she would try to persuade the man beside her.

If Oak still chose to continue his Pokémon research and completely give up being a Pokémon Trainer, then she would have no choice but to give up as well.

"Hey! Aren't you done yet? Can't you hurry up? Is your event staff just useless? If you delay me from winning the championship, are you going to take responsibility?"

Contestant registration area

A man wearing a black headband impatiently urged the staff to register his information. His attitude was extremely arrogant, as though the championship were already within reach.

The staff ignored him. They had seen plenty of people like this. They simply processed his registration and gestured for him to enter.

"Hmph. At least you know what's good for you."

Not getting the reaction he wanted, Headband Guy snorted and entered the venue with his number tag.

At last, it was Roy's turn.

"Miss, I'm here to enter the competition too."

The female staff member at the registration desk naturally liked polite, good-looking boys like Roy, and her tone softened unconsciously.

"Please show me the Pokémon you're entering with, little brother. I'll register it for you."

Roy handed his ID Card to the woman and released Litwick from its Poké Ball.

"What an adorable little candle! I've never seen this Pokémon before. What's its name?"

The female staff member clearly didn't recognize Litwick, but that didn't stop her from wanting to reach out and hug the cute little fellow.

That was one of the perks of the job—getting to play with Pokémon that looked adorable.

"His name is Litwick. He's a Ghost-type Pokémon."

Upon hearing the words "Ghost type," the female staff member's outstretched arms froze in midair. The adorable little candle in her eyes suddenly didn't seem quite so adorable anymore.

"A Ghost-type Pokémon!"

Even the contestants behind Roy took two steps back when they heard that Litwick was a Ghost-type Pokémon, keeping a distance of two spots from Roy.

Compared to the students at Rustboro Academy, who had all dared to battle Litwick, the people here seemed to hold even deeper prejudices against Ghost-type Pokémon.

This Rookie Cup was meant to inspire those who longed to become rookie Coordinators and ignite their passion for Pokémon Contests, so there were no restrictions on the types of Pokémon contestants could use.

As long as they were no older than fourteen and their Pokémon were no higher than level thirty, they could participate.

But when the female staff member recalled the rumors about Ghost-type Pokémon draining people's life force, she didn't know what to do.

When the sky fell, the tall ones would hold it up. Seeing the long line still waiting behind him, the woman stood up and looked at Roy apologetically.

"Sorry, little brother. Please wait to the side for a moment. I need to ask my supervisor."

Roy knew it wasn't something she could decide. She was just an employee, so he didn't make things difficult for her.

He nodded and quietly stepped out of the line, sitting down to wait nearby.

Seeing that Roy wasn't causing trouble, the woman breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward the backstage area. Based on the impression Roy had given her, she also hoped he would be allowed to compete.

Of course, it wasn't her decision to make.

It looked like the task of gaining attention really wasn't simple.

Only after Roy left the line did the other contestants return to their original positions and continue registering their information.

"His name is Litwick?"

As Roy rested with his eyes closed, a voice sounded beside him. He opened his eyes to find a man with long green hair and rather flashy clothes standing before him.

"Wallace?"

"How did you know my name is Wallace?"

The man became wary when he heard Roy call his name, his hand moving to his Poké Ball.

Roy pointed at the contestant number tag on the man's chest. It was number fifty, and beneath it was his name: "Wallace."

"I almost forgot about the contestant tag."

The wariness vanished from Wallace's eyes. He gave an embarrassed smile and casually struck up a conversation with Roy. He wasn't afraid just because Roy's Pokémon was a Ghost type.

Mainly because an unconventional Trainer like Roy, who had chosen a Ghost-type Pokémon, had piqued his interest.

"Are you here to compete in the Pokémon Contest too?"

"No, I'm here to compete in the Masters Eight showdown," Roy answered speechlessly.

Realizing he had asked an unnecessary question, Wallace wasn't embarrassed. Instead, he found Roy far more interesting than the others.

"Hello, Litwick."

Wallace naturally greeted Litwick.

"Litwick!"

This was the first time anyone besides Roy and those people at Mt. Pyre had greeted it.

The little flame atop Litwick's head turned into a smiling face, reflecting its current mood.