Incarnated Whisp
patreon
Chapter 161 (Rough)
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 02:13:36 +0000 UTCAuthor Note:
Apologies for such a late chapter! I ended up re-writing it several times over. A small handful of sections will need to be touched up later, but it now includes everything I want it to include.
Edit from the future: This chapter will be subject to some revisions.
=======================================================================
Redi was waiting for Sam when he left the main battlefield, standing just past where the lowest tunnel connected to the arena floor. She ran right up to him as soon as she saw him, and before he could say anything, she had already blurted out a question.
“What was that?”
“What do you mean? You know my team.”
“That’s not— Ugh!” Redi pulled at her hair. “Sam, that was insane. When I gave you advice to reveal your team members, I didn’t mean... You had that many...! But your move choices... And—!”
She let her stuttering come to an abrupt halt and looked right at him.
“You really caught a Dragon Type?”
“Yup. Her evolution is a pseudo-Legend, too. Remember what I told you about that Dragon Type hunt? I met Drakloak there and helped her free her brother. She stuck around and eventually joined my team. This was her second major battle, I think?”
Slowly, Redi faced away to blankly stare down the hallway. After a second, she sighed and let her head rest on her hand.
“Man, you’re almost making me feel bad about my own planned reveals.”
“Almost?” Sam asked.
“Well, yeah,” Redi said, speaking as if it were obvious. “My team is stronger than yours.”
She replied to Sam’s flat look with a teasing grin.
Redi’s battle wouldn't be until at least another forty minutes, and she still wasn’t worried in the slightest. It wasn’t like there had been any new developments for her opponent, and her battlefield would be the rocky one. She wouldn’t need to worry about fighting atop a pool of water against an Electric Type foe.
“So, if Primeape evolved, that must have happened when you met his brother,” Redi said, tapping her chin. “It makes sense, but it’s just... Wow. I had a feeling something more happened then, but I never bothered to put those thoughts together. But, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Ursaring will still—”
“Nah. Annihilape will win their fight,” Sam interrupted, half-jokingly.
“...You’re no fun,” she said with a huff. “Anyway, how high is your team’s rating?”
“I want to say we were at eight stars when we earned our last Gym Badge?” Sam offered, remembering a conversation he had with Chuck while he and Redi walked down the hallway. “But then we spent all of our time in Ilex trying to fix any gaps. Given just how hard it is to get to higher stars, I want to say we’re at nine, but, realistically, we’re probably rated at the middle of eight.”
“Huh. That’s as strong as me.”
Their conversation mostly gave way to idle chat after that, especially since Redi didn’t actually want to know what Sam’s team could do. She didn’t want it to come up in conversation. She only ever wanted to learn of his Pokémon’s strength through battle—at least, while the Conference was taking place.
Instead, they mostly talked about the Conference itself and how people might be reacting to what Sam revealed. He had shown off a lot to the point that even Redi had been surprised, and she had come into the match expecting most of it.
There was no telling what people might be thinking.
But also, while chatting, the topic of Cassandra’s party came up, as well.
“Yeah, she gave me one of her invites. I heard a few people talking about how she’d passed a bunch around,” Redi told Sam. “The only people going are people I think she knows, or people she thinks are strong. Honestly, it’s hard to figure out what’s going on with her. She wouldn’t have been out of place in that Trainer School back home.”
That last part wasn’t said kindly.
“Are you going to go?” Sam asked.
“Maybe. I'm hesitant. Cassandra has this weird perspective that I don’t really get. The party will probably be fine, but since the next matches aren’t going to be announced till later tonight, I think it might be at least a good way to scout out the competition.”
The door out of the arena was just ahead of them, and as they walked up to it, Sam brought up another question that’d been on his mind since Redi first appeared.
“By the way,” he started, “what happened with my mom? She said she was going to watch my match, but she didn’t come down here?”
“Oh, shoot. Whoops?” Redi awkwardly scratched her cheek. “She might be upstairs? I kind of left her behind when I raced down here. I think she said something about meeting back up once you escape?”
“Escape?” Sam asked. “Escape from what?”
He pushed open the door only to be blinded by the late afternoon sun, and then he was blinded by the dozens of flashes that came right after. This door was meant to be an alternate exit for competitors so that they wouldn’t be swarmed when they left the arena, but as soon as Sam stepped onto a thin gravel path that led away from the building, he was already crowded by a baker’s dozen of reporters.
All of them shouted questions. Most of them shoved microphones in his face. The second their cameras’ lenses landed on him, Redi’s PokéGear started to blare out with calls and alerts.
The push of the crowd saw her fall to the side, out of the mass, and all of the shouted questions drowned out her cries.
“Samuel. Samuel! Any comments to share about your team?”
“Mr. Greyson! Our reports say you lived in a bookstore. How much of what you know came from there?”
“How long have you been keeping your Pokémon’s evolutions hidden?!”
“Any comments, hints, or advice for people trying to achieve those same alternate forms?”
“Incredible moves!”
“DO YOU HAVE A SPONSOR?!”
“Uh—”
Even if Sam wanted to answer, there were far too many reporters shouting questions at him for anything he said to be picked up. Redi was too overwhelmed by the sheer number of calls coming from her phone, and a pair of Ace Trainers behind the group were trying and failing to get the reporters to back off.
And then, from somewhere in the crowd, Sam heard the faintest of familiar voices.
“Samuel. Samuel! I can help you escape if you agree to an interview with me!”
Eyes locked onto the sole lifeline he had, Sam pointed to the single person offering help and then spoke as loudly as he could.
“I accept! I’ll talk to her and no one else!”
And then, silence.
Beautiful silence.
Every mic held in his face dropped in disappointment now that there would be nothing he’d say.
Finally, the Ace Trainers in the back were able to push to the front, and, tiredly, they managed to get all of those reporters to step away and give Sam some space. He was finally able to breathe, and Redi looked up to check on him. When she saw that he was okay, she focused back on her PokéGear to try to get it to shut up.
Even hitting it didn’t seem to work. Sam couldn’t even imagine just how many people must have been trying to call her right now.
“Seriously, people? Have some decorum! He hasn’t even healed his team yet,” that single reporter said as she approached Sam, shaking her head.
A man carrying a camera carefully followed her from behind. Though Sam had met them both before, he only somewhat remembered the man’s name.
“Monty?” Sam tried.
“He’s Monroe, and I’m Marilyn,” the smiling reporter said as she shook Sam’s numbly offered hand. “We haven’t talked since Violet City’s tournament, but I’m glad you remembered us! I promise to keep things quick and simple. We only want a few soundbites and comments, alright?”
“Sure. Alright.”
After giving him a moment to recover from that ambush, Marilyn brought Sam to a tree just off the path. Doing so gave him a less crowded space in which to calm down, and the other reporters all moved on, recognizing they had lost out.
The pair of Ace Trainers from before also followed just in case, making sure no nonsense would go on, and Redi ran up to Sam to speak as fast as she could.
“Sorry! My PokéGear’s still going off, and I can’t! Get it! To stop!” she growled. “Downside of knowing so many researchers, I guess. The second they find out your friend has a bunch of unknown evolutions, they want to throw thousands of questions your way.”
“It’s fine,” Sam said, standing up from where he had briefly sat beneath that tree. “I need to stop at the Pokémon Center, anyway. You go on ahead. We’ll meet back up after your match?”
Redi pursed her lips but still nodded.
“Okay, but I’ll be looking for you in the crowd!”
She ran off, needing to get to her arena early just in case, and Sam was left alone with Marilyn, Monroe, and the two Ace Trainers standing guard. As a reporter, Marilyn adjusted her hair and jacket as Monroe pointed the camera at her, and rather than treat Sam to a proper interview, it was clear she planned to stick to her word about keeping this simple. She just wanted a few fast questions answered rather than get anything extensive out of him.
Sam really appreciated that.
“How long have you been a trainer?”
“What’s it like working with your team?”
“Any difficulties with the Ghost Type?”
“What are your thoughts on the Conference so far?”
Sam answered her questions easily enough. He didn’t bother to put on any persona other than his own. Trying to be someone he wasn’t just for appearance’s sake sounded exhausting. He’d rather people focus on what his Pokémon could do over anything about him.
With the questions being so generic, his answers were quick. However, Marilyn was still a reporter, and once Sam was relaxed, she hit him with the hardest question so far, the one she had saved for last.
“And finally, one last question—how did you learn those evolutions were possible? Your team has shocked the world! I have to know, were they accidental, or did you perhaps learn of your Pokémon’s potential from somewhere or someone else?”
She held her mic under his mouth, and before he answered, a thought popped into his head.
You know, Redi mentioned the Conference is great for advertisements. I don’t want to say anything explicit, but this would be the perfect time to try something like that, wouldn’t it?
“I read,” Sam answered simply enough, a proud smile creeping onto his face at his clever answer. “I read a lot of things, and I’ve spent a lot of time on research. Most people focus on information already found in the Pokédex or online, but you’d be surprised by the stuff that goes unread in bookstores. That’s the secret of my team.”
Marilyn smiled, and she was about to thank him and end on that note, but both of them went quiet when they saw one of the Ace Trainers press a hand to their ear.
Immediately, Sam knew that whatever was being said in their earpiece was about him. The Ace Trainer didn’t hide how he sent a look to Sam.
“What is it?” Sam asked.
Marilyn stayed quiet, eager to witness this moment herself.
“Your presence has been requested,” the Ace Trainer said carefully, uncomfortably shifting in place. “If you’re willing, I can bring you to a meeting room inside.”
“With who?” Sam asked, blinking at the member of the Pokémon League standing so awkwardly before him.
Though there was a hint of hesitation with a reporter so close, the Ace Trainer still said it outright.
“Elite Four Agatha.”
And Marilyn didn’t wait to see Sam off.
“Go, go!” she said, a gleaming smile on her face. “Don’t worry about me. Just remember which reporter was so kind to you after you win your next rounds! But someone like Agatha? No, you simply can’t make her wait!”
She didn’t touch Sam, but he felt as though he was being pushed forward regardless. Right now, he honestly just wanted to let his team rest at the Pokémon Center, but he also recognized he didn’t have a choice.
He spoke with a tired exhale.
“Lead the way, I guess,” he said.
The Ace Trainer sent him a nod and brought him back toward the arena. Parting with a laughing Marilyn, Sam was led inside.
_______________________________________________________________________
When Sam was brought to his destination, the door before him was only labeled with the word “STAFF” on a taped, hand-written note. This room’s entrance was hidden within one of those back hallways closed off to the public, and Sam was pretty sure that even challengers weren’t supposed to be here.
He wasn’t allowed to enter immediately. Apparently, Agatha was “busy,” and that meant he had to wait.
Really? I just want to rest.
Part of his shadow stretched toward the door, but Sam quickly sent out a hissed whisper to call the creeping group of Gastly back. Not every Pokémon had been with him in his shadow when Agatha appeared in Mahogany Town. Not every Pokémon in there was aware of just how terrifying that Ghost Type elite could be.
He could still remember those moments of overwhelming fear, of how just the mere clicks of her cane had almost sent him into a panic. He remembered how the door had opened up without any need for her to open it herself, and he remembered how her presence alone seemed to devour the air.
But he didn’t feel any of that right now. He didn’t even feel nervous.
Simply put, Sam was tired, exhausted, and frustrated. Making him wait outside felt like a petty power play, and it ticked him off that she was doing this when his team deserved to rest after two straight victories.
After wasting a full minute doing nothing but standing outside, a voice finally called out from within, and he heard Agatha speak.
“Enter.”
The room was some kind of break room. Or, specifically, this place was more of a repurposed storage room rather than anything official.
The furniture scattered around just seemed to be loose seats and items pulled in by the people who worked the arena. The fabric on an old couch was tattered and close to falling apart, and the handful of other seats were just boxes and plastic chairs. A set of shelves held an old microwave, and a few books were scattered about. A trash can held empty bags of chips.
Despite how “ragged” this room looked, there was a sense of care to this place. The furniture here might have been dragged in from outside, but it had been dragged in here with intention. It might not have been official, but it had been put together with a surprising amount of love.
However, no member of the arena staff was present. Someone else had claimed the room for themself. Only an old woman with a face hidden by greying blonde hair was there. She stood in front of the room’s sole window and silently watched the Conference’s crowds move along the arena’s main path.
Sam closed the door behind him. A subdued thunk echoed out.
“Samuel Greyson.” Agatha spoke without turning around as she rested her hands on the top of her cane. “Your battle was impressive. Your Ghost Types surprised me. I can tell you’ve trained hard to make proper use of them in battle.”
A second passed.
“Thank you,” Sam said carefully.
“You have a good eye when it comes to commanding your Pokémon,” Agatha said to him, staring out of the window. “Your improvement is obvious. I hardly recognize that young trainer I met in Mahogany Town. You're no longer the boy so scared of his own history.”
Scared? I wouldn't have called myself ‘scared.’
But Sam hid his grumbles.
Agatha let her words trail away, and the room fell into silence as her gaze remained on the crowds below. She seemed to be waiting for something, but despite all of the open seats in the room, Sam did not sit, and Agatha did not sit either.
Neither of them spoke right away, and the silence almost felt like a challenge. Sam refused to take the bait and ask questions so quickly, and Agatha seemed intent on maintaining her control.
Except, it was Agatha who decided to break that silence, and her words were like a sledgehammer crashing through a wall.
“I knew your grandfather.”
Sam went still.
Her statement was blunt, but Sam refused to show anything. He forced his expression to stay even, and he fought to not react even though Agatha was looking away.
“I will not lie,” Agatha said, speaking without any hint of awareness to Sam's reaction. “Your grandfather was a selfish boy. He was hard-headed. Quick to annoyance. Bad at following plans. But more than anything else, he always did whatever he could to support his friends.”
“...Yeah,” Sam ended up saying as he rubbed the back of his head. He was unable to suppress a short chuckle. “That does sound like him.”
“He was always... mad,” Agatha said softly, tilting her head down. “Mad at something. Mad at someone. Mad in a way that’s hard to explain. He always seemed so... mad at the world. And then there were times he would be mad due to the things he’d say.
“I can't say we were close,” she continued, and she adjusted her grip on her cane. “We were more than acquaintances, but I wouldn’t call us close friends. Rivals? Perhaps. Our paths crossed more than enough for that. We fought plenty of times. We traveled together occasionally. We had our share of adventures, and we had our share of competitions. And for a short while, we even had our...”
She shook her head, and Sam caught the faintest glint of her reflection in the window. It was an ephemeral sight, but he could have sworn he saw a bittersweet smile pass over her face.
“But that was a long time ago,” Agatha said with a sigh, and she brought her head up from where she had been watching the crowds. “I am old, and your grandfather has passed. Rich is no longer with us, but you... You’re still here.”
She turned around.
“And I believe it’s finally time I do something about that.”
With that ominous declaration, Agatha stared at Sam, and Sam stared right back.
Neither of them spoke for a long while, but Sam couldn’t stop himself from blurting out a response.
“You’re going to kill me?”
“What? No! You stupid—” Agatha exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her voice then took on a much softer tone. “No. No. I... apologize. I did not intend to phrase it like that. I simply knew your grandfather, and since I knew him, I can recognize that it’s finally time to reconnect with the grandson of a friend.”
She sent Sam an almost tender smile, one that wouldn't have been out of place on an actual grandmother. However, famously, Agatha did not have any close family. If anything, the persona she wore in public was grumpy enough that Sam couldn’t even picture her caring about anyone else.
Without Sam speaking or even moving from his spot in front of the room’s door, Agatha took the initiative to walk over to one of those plastic chairs and sit. She went through a slight wince when she landed on the seat’s hard surface, but she still brought up a hand to try to gesture for Sam to sit as well.
He remained standing.
“Why right now?” Sam asked, recognizing he couldn’t remain silent forever. “I don’t get it. You said you knew him, but if you knew him, why didn’t you say anything when Typhlosion evolved back then?”
“Because it wouldn’t have been right,” she answered easily and casually. “You were still on your journey.”
“But you were there. You knew him. You even just told me you recognized I wasn’t over his death. You could have at least said something!”
“I suppose I could have, yes,” she replied, but Agatha said nothing further than that.
Sam waited to see if she would reveal anything else, but she didn’t. She just sat there, upright and still, almost looking like some sort of statue.
“Okay. Fine,” Sam eventually grumbled. “I do have a few questions about someone, but they aren’t about my grandfather.”
“Who, then?”
“You,” he replied.
A beat passed, and Sam finally got a reaction:
Agatha narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.
However, she went on to wave a hand to ‘graciously’ grant Sam permission to speak. He crossed his arms as he did.
“I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of the Blackthorn Clan,” Sam started slowly, trying to think of the best way to phrase this, “but I can at least trust them to act in their own interests, and I doubt they lied to a trainer they were trying to befriend. Back when I met them, they told me some stuff about you. Gave me some information. Or warnings, I guess. When it comes to how you view Johto and Kanto—”
“Ha!”
He really didn’t expect Agatha to throw back her head and let out a barking laugh.
“This is about Golbat, isn’t it? They’re still on that, are they?” Agatha gained a mischievous grin. “Ah, I can see why. I admit, it’s a rather infamous moment.”
“Yes,” Sam said, trying not to act as thrown off as he was. “They told me about the moment you gave your Golbat an Everstone, basically insulting all of Johto when you did, and then also... everything else. I just want to know why you did that. I want to know why you act so much like... you.”
“Well,” Agatha said, and she smiled to herself while adjusting a more comfortable grip on her cane. “To put it simply, it was merely politics, and I excel at politics.
“My Golbat?” she said, the corners of her mouth twisting up into a grin. “Golbat didn't want to evolve, that gluttonous bat. You see, a Crobat’s mouth is much smaller than a Golbat’s. It’s much harder to inhale your meal when your head is half the size it was before!”
She let out a quick laugh.
“So I gave her an Everstone, but I also used that moment for my own benefit. Back then, Kanto and Johto? They hated each other. Despised each other. And I used that to my advantage, as well. For years, all of my actions have been deliberate and purposeful. Everything I’ve done and said has been for one goal and one goal alone.”
“Independence?” Sam asked, a nervousness creeping into his voice.
“Unification,” Agatha corrected, and she seemed so willing to brag that Sam knew she was telling the truth. “It’s all unification. It’s always been unification. And it’s all due to one single, annoying favor called in by a certain, idealist fool. He desired help with achieving his dream, so I did exactly that. I took on the role of a ‘villain’ to make sure his desire would come true.
“A few sharp words here, a few hateful conversations there, and I’m suddenly the centerpiece for every person pushing for an independent Kanto,” she said. “Everyone who looked for a stronger, more singular region looked to me, and everyone who might have pushed for a more ‘extreme’ agenda found themselves drowned out by my words, instead.”
Her smile was proud, and she held her head high.
Sam just stared at Agatha for a long, long time.
It felt as though he had just experienced the unmasking of an antagonist during a stage play, but this was real life, and the “plot” she described reminded him of conspiracy theories he’d read online. That grand level of manipulation probably should have been more concerning to him, but for some reason, he wasn’t that surprised.
Also, his home was in Hoenn. Kanto and Johto’s politics were practically alien. Hearing that Agatha had worked so hard to shape the regions from the shadows felt strange.
Still.
That reveal in of itself explained a lot about her, as simply explained as it was.
Sam leaned against the door as he sent Agatha a look. He tried his best to get her to react in any further way, but she just sat there and looked cheerfully amused.
“So for all this time, you’ve just been putting on a show?” he asked. “You’ve just been crafting a specific image to ensure a more unified Indigo?”
“Bah. Like I said, it’s all politics.” Agatha waved a hand and leaned back in her seat, practically mimicking his stance. “Everyone puts on an image. I’m not unique. And it’s not my fault that so many are willing to fall for such banal lies.”
For a while, Sam just frowned. Agatha bid for him to sit once again, but he didn’t want to leave where he stood at the room's door.
“Okay,” Sam said next, and Agatha nodded with what felt like an infinite amount of patience. “I have another question, and I know that you know. So just tell me, why was I ranked last?”
“Oh?” Agatha said with a slight quip, raising a single eyebrow. “I thought these questions would be about me?”
It was disconcerting. Her amusement was at odds with her usual grumpy attitude.
“Yes,” Sam answered. “This question is about you.”
“Hah. I see.”
She spent a long moment rocking her jaw back and forth in silent debate, and she seemed to finally decide on her answer when an almost teasing smile returned to her face.
“You’re right. It was me. It was upon my request and authority that you would be placed last if you made it in.”
“Why?” Sam hissed, stepping forward. He clenched his fists. “Why do that? It... It has to be wrong. Nepotism. Tampering with the competition. Messing with the ranking and going against the spirit of the tournament just to change everything going on with—”
A cackle.
Agatha interrupted him by throwing her head back for another sharp laugh.
“You’re accusing me of corruption? Me? Trust me, I’ve been accused of far worse!” Her grin felt unnaturally wide. “It was a test. A simple one. One that did not go against the spirit of the competition but aided it. The truth is, the League lied. They did not explain the matchups properly.
“A limited range of opponents based on rank? Bah. That is partially true, but only from a certain perspective. The range is much, much larger than you were led to think. Effectively, the match-ups are fully random; rank does not matter. There is no limit on who battles who, and while most of the rankings are real, they’re only psychological—they only affect how competitors view themselves.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
With the way she was staring at him, Sam could tell she was analyzing his reaction.
In return, he did his best to analyze her back.
(He figured out nothing, unfortunately.)
“Why I asked for you to be placed last, or why the League bothered with the ranks at all?” Agatha asked. “Well. The answer to both is identical. It was simply to see how you and all of the other competitors would react.”
“But that still doesn’t answer why!” Sam all but yelled.
“Tch. Don’t raise your voice. I’ll tell you. Now sit down.”
He didn’t.
Agatha sighed but continued regardless.
“The answer is straightforward. Lance requested it. For his purposes, this year’s Conference is meant to be a crucible, a crucible that ensures that only the best of the best succeed. It’s to ensure that every little challenge, every little push, encourages trainers to give it their all, and I believed you would try harder if you thought you had more to overcome.”
“...I never believed the rankings were accurate,” Sam grumbled, crossing his arms again.
“But you never learned your true placement, and you revealed your entire team, didn’t you?” Agatha countered right away.
She laughed again, and Sam continued to grumble even as he felt heat rush to his face. He had revealed his whole team independent of anything to do with the rankings. He had done so because he was hurting himself by holding them back.
Showing off his Pokémon now gave him a greater amount of freedom in his future matches, and he had even gone with a more aggressive strategy to ensure people remained unaware of his preference for weakening his foes, as well.
But Agatha, meanwhile, just patiently waited for Sam to calm down, and as she remained silent, he felt himself bristle.
Her presence was tainting this whole conversation, and it might as well have been tainting the Conference itself. And, with the way she started everything off—
Sam stopped his current train of thought.
Instead, a specific question came to mind.
It took him a second to muster the courage to ask it, and deep inside him, he knew this would trip her up.
“Last question,” Sam said, and Agatha nodded once as if to yet again grant him permission to speak. “If you knew him, then, when my grandfather died, how come you never bothered to contact my family?”
Agatha went stock-still, and Sam looked her in the eye.
She was putting on a show here, one that she had spent years mastering. Her expression was schooled perfectly to not betray even a single thought, but that act itself was revealing enough to cast any further response in a completely different light.
“Your grandfather and I—”
Sam could already tell this was going to be an excuse.
“Don’t,” Sam said, interrupting her. “Don’t lie to me. You said you were close to my grandfather, but everything has just been a... It’s just been an excuse to talk to me. You haven’t bothered to tell me any lies because you don’t need to tell me lies. But just because you’re not outright lying doesn’t mean you aren’t misleading me with mistruths.”
She watched him silently.
“You’re a Ghost Type specialist,” Sam said, and though his statement was simple, it revealed a lot. “I know how that works, and I know how you fight. So much about the Ghost Type is about manipulating your opponents to do what you want. And you’ve already told me you take that mindset and apply it to your life outside of battle. After all, you answered my question about your politics, remember?”
He hated how saying that made her smile.
“You’re manipulative. In both battle and talk. When you started this conversation, you brought up my grandfather for a reason. You had a previous connection with him, so that was your ‘in’ with me. Presenting it so bluntly like that? To throw me off. To make me curious, and then you answer any questions honestly so that I form a connection with you.
“But you... You didn’t know. You didn’t know what I already learned. And if it were only a month ago, this probably would have worked. Except, that time has passed. Coming in here, I already knew you were friends with my grandfather before I even walked in.”
He hadn’t known when Agatha approached him in Mahogany Town. He hadn’t known for the vast, vast majority of his life. But he had the chance to talk to his grandfather, and neither of them had held back.
They had all the time in the world to speak, so of course Sam’s grandfather had told him more details about his life.
“So why do you think I did all of this?” Agatha asked, her question testing but not harsh. “Why did I bother with this attempt now, of all times?”
“With this timing? After my battle and after all of my team’s reveals?” Sam asked in reply. “There’s only one answer that makes sense. You saw my team members, and you want to know exactly how I evolved my—”
“Hah! You’re wrong.” Agatha let out a single laugh. “You’re a smart boy, Sam. Don’t make assumptions. The truth is, I don’t care about your team.”
Sam openly gaped at her. She wasn’t lying. She hadn’t lied a single time in this conversation, and he could tell she wasn’t going to start lying now.
As he stared at her, unable to piece together what to say next or even why she was here, Agatha stood up, leaning against her cane to maintain her balance.
When she stood, he didn’t miss how shadowy hands appeared behind her back, supporting her and helping her up. For all of her experience in battle, she was old, but neither she nor her Pokémon would let age stop her like that.
“I don’t care about ‘new’ evolutions. I don’t care about ‘new’ discoveries. I have my team, and they support me, just like how I support them back,” she said, practically chiding Sam as she spoke. “No. For this, I came here with a specific purpose in mind. It pains me to admit it, but I am old. And because of that, I am far more interested in your achievements rather than any specific developments. To state it bluntly, at this point in my life, the interest that surpasses all other interests is, simply put, legacy.”
“You’re not...”
Sam was having trouble finding his words.
And that was fine. Agatha was more than willing to continue the conversation on her own for him.
“The League has rules and restrictions when it comes to offers presented during the Conference. Sponsorships, donations, and similar messages are held back until after the tournament is over. There is no sense in allowing competitors to get distracted by offers while they have so many battles ahead of them. There is no reason to have their attention split and potentially cost them their victories.
“No. Sponsorships and similar offers are restricted for a reason, but I am here to... what did you call it? Nepotism? Tampering? Messing with everything?” She laughed. “Sure. Call it that. But I am here to get ahead of the game.”
She looked him in the eye.
“I wanted to get to you first. My offer is simple and requires no contract. I merely wanted to present you with this:
“Samuel, I offer you an apprenticeship.”
Part of the reason Sam had taken the interview with Marilyn was to escape, of course, but it was also so he could have a chance to properly present himself to any would-be sponsors. For a long time, he’d been working toward obtaining a source of income that was more reliable than just jobs and bets on random battles. Other than winning the Conference, a sponsorship was his ultimate goal. He wanted a company to pay him money to attach their name to him. He wanted guaranteed support to help with the costs of training his team.
An apprenticeship was different, but it offered similar benefits. An apprenticeship would see the “master” trainer take care of all of the needed expenses of the “apprentice.” In exchange, the apprentice would be expected to learn from that master and remember everything taught.
It was a bit of an archaic concept, but like Agatha had expressed, an apprenticeship was an assured way of creating a legacy.
Except, Sam wasn’t sure that he wanted that.
It wasn’t like he was against the idea of Agatha paying for everything, but the requirements just felt like...
We’re not aligned. The cost would be too much.
“Thank you,” Sam said, bowing his head, “but I’m going to turn you down.”
Agatha cocked an eyebrow but didn’t seem upset.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve had a lot of time to think about my team, the things I know, and the kind of trainer I want to be,” Sam answered. “I’ve had even more time than that to think about just why I like the Ghost Type. And while I appreciate your offer, I can’t accept an apprenticeship that’d force me to be someone I’m not.
“We have different understandings of the Ghost Type, and we have different understandings of how ghosts deserve to be treated,” he said. “At times, we might battle in similar ways, but we’re not similar enough. You’re all about power and maintaining that power, and I’m... Well, I’m...”
“Get on with it. What are you?”
Agatha did not look away.
Under the sharp, analytic gaze of the oldest member of Indigo’s Elite Four, Sam thought of everything he’d done on his journey. He thought of everything he’d achieved with and for his team. He thought of Trevenant, of Drakloak, of Annihilape, and even of Mismagius. He thought of how every time a problem came up, he simply wanted to help.
“Ghosts play pranks,” Sam said slowly. “They scare people. They curse. They do a lot of things, honestly. But I think the aspect of the Ghost Type that most people miss is that they also guide.
“They guide lost spirits. They guide people through the woods. They might not always have the best intentions at heart, but you can’t say that’s not something they do,” he said. “When it comes to the trainer I want to be, I want to be the kind of trainer that people look to for support. So many people have helped me on my journey, and I want to do the same for others. That’s the kind of trainer I want to be, but that’s not the kind of trainer I’d be if I took an apprenticeship under you.”
“I see.”
For a while, Agatha just looked at him, any annoyance, amusement, or pressure completely absent. Right now, she was just another trainer. An old one. Another Ghost Type specialist.
She was an elite, but she was just one of many.
She was just another trainer Sam would strive to surpass.
“Ah, well. I can’t fight against that argument,” she said, clicking her tongue. “And I wouldn’t benefit from an apprentice as stubborn as you. So I’ll accept your denial. Perhaps I’ll find someone else?”
Moving away from that plastic chair, she began to walk toward the door, and Sam stepped to the side to let her through.
But when she reached the exit, she paused as she put her hand on the door’s handle.
She looked over to Sam with a single eye closed.
“Although... I have answered your questions. So I do have one of my own in exchange,” she said, her gaze practically piercing through him. “How long have you known?”
“Known what?”
“Known about my connection to Richard.”
A bit awkwardly, Sam rubbed the back of his head.
“Oh, uh, that? A few weeks ago. I’ve known for a bit. I came in here expecting you to reveal something like that, so it was more of a surprise that you said it so bluntly than that you said it at all.”
She let out one final laugh and smiled to herself while shaking her head. Honestly, it was like she almost expected that answer when she had asked her question.
“We might disagree on some fine points, but you make a good Ghost Type specialist, Sam,” she said, finally opening the door. “If Rich were here, he’d be proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, smiling, “but I already know.”
Agatha stepped out of the room, leaving the door open for Sam to leave as well. This back hallway was empty save for her. The clicks that came from her cane didn't carry any sense of intimidation, their echoes so unlike the last time he heard them.
“And one last thing, Samuel?” she called out while walking down the hall. “I mentioned that the League was holding back most offers until the Conference ended. Aren't you curious to know how many you have?”
His heart raced in his chest.
“How many?”
“Between the contact requests, sponsorships, and job offers, you had thirty-six waiting for you when I last checked before this meeting.”
She hadn’t checked that long after his match, and this meeting hadn't been short. If thirty-six offers had been sent to him so quickly, there was no telling how many he had now.
“Enjoy the rest of the tournament, Sam!” Agatha called out as she reached the end of the hall. “This might be the last time you'll have some relative anonymity. Appreciate it while it lasts.”
And then, she was gone, vanishing around a corner, leaving Sam and his team behind.
His head was spinning, but he breathed out and stared up at the ceiling. As much as he wanted to sit there and process all of that interest in him, he couldn't let himself get distracted. He still had all of his plans to get through and so many more battles to win.
And just today, I still need to heal my team, watch Redi’s match, rest, and then probably go to that party later?
The thoughts lingered, but as he took a step forward to start heading out, more than anything else, his focus was on the Conference.
Despite all of this, only two rounds had passed. He was yet to reach the top.
==========================================================================Author Note:
Next chapter is not Redi's battle. It will still happen in the next chapter, but it won't be something that gets much focus. This Conference is primarily about Sam.
Pokémon (and people) included in this chapter:
Golbat / Crobat
Comments
Steven
Thanks for the chapter
Incarnated Whisp
Sam's grandmother has passed away, same as his father.
mhaj58
What’s the deal with Sam’s grandma? Is she going to be an unanswered question? I also don’t recall any details regarding Sam’s dad
