Three people were left in the lobby. Two finalists and the employee that will soon lead us to the battlefield for our match. According to the corner of the screen, time was running out and we’d soon be called to finish this tournament.

  As I waited for that call, I realized how glad I am that my journey started late.

  Not that I didn’t want to start at the normal age—I did—but ever since my journey began two months ago I sometimes appreciated the advantages that come with leaving at sixteen instead of twelve. I studied journeys. I read biographies and hunted interviews at the library, and a pattern emerged across all those who became great trainers. They talked about what they learned during the travels, about how these experiences shaped them.

  They talked about the first time that they took things seriously.

  Turns out the people who stay in the pokemon trainer career are mostly people who quickly lose their sense of wonder. They talked about being buried alive by Graveler, about almost drowning to death trying to catch a Goldeen, about being drafted to an emergency and escaping a deadly Quick Attack by seconds.

  The generation before mine had produced a lot of great trainers because of the Rocket War. Although they also produced a lot of death.

  Not everything was depressing though. The world wasn’t hell despite what some click baiting journalists might say. There were trainers who saw the truth when their teammates were soundly defeated in tournaments, who saw the war from afar, who learned the truth in safe environments. The truth that pokemon training is not just a sport or tradition, it’s a burden. To train is to be ready to fight as Luke Masao wrote, fight to maintain the peaceful way of life of Indigo’s citizens.

  Not everyone can be a pokemon trainer of course. Some people see it as just another sport. The ones who have peaceful and normal journeys. The vast majority normally ends their travel after that one memorable year when they were twelve.

  Maybe it's regrettable to learn those things before even beginning your journey, to not be bright-eyed at the start like the others, but I liked it. Maybe if I left at twelve I wouldn’t want to go on after learning the truth at that age—and I would learn, curious as I always were. Maybe if I knew the truth before twelve, and had to leave at that age, I wouldn’t have.

  So I was glad to learn at fourteen and before I left. It wasn’t that uncommon as well. From interviews I knew that Red and Blue knew beforehand to expect a resurgence in Rocket activity. Huh. Maybe that was one of the questions that Alakazam and Exeggutor answered that led Professor Oak to me.

  One day I would need to ask him about that questionnaire.

  The timer reached zero and a device in the employee’s waist went off. The three of us rose from our seats, I from the sofa and George from his beanbag, just as the three young commentators came back to the screen for one last time.

  As I stepped out of the room, I thought about the ones who left the tournament before me.

  There are lessons we learn as children that have to wait sometimes years until we’ve become old enough to understand them, to look at things from another angle. A pokemon journey is an exception. It's where the young learn fast, as the elders said. Dendra, Jess, Aiden, Katy, Ronald, Emilia, and even Yael. I saw their fall and I hope that they’ve learned something from this bizarre tournament.

  There were reasons why they lost after all. Some simply didn’t have enough power, some didn’t plan enough, or planned too much, or made bad decisions.

  A benefit of being older than the ones around you is that you see when they make mistakes, and see when they then learn from them. Another benefit of being older is that you start to get those lessons quickly.

  This time for me, it took only a couple of days.

  The first thing I caught was the sound from the packed crowd. Then we turned a corner, and I saw the light from the fading sun. Finally, I felt the wind and the eyes of thousands turn towards us. The ghost prodigy gulped.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  As I stepped into the field, I understood that it’s easy to lie to yourself.

  I said to Katy that winning the tournament was not that important, and I stand by it. I said to my team that no tournament prize can compare to winning a badge, and I also stand by that. I was unbothered and distant throughout the entire event, and it would be understandable for me to do so. I saw those twelve, thirteen and fourteen years old trying their best to win, and thought myself better for not caring enough.

  But would I be okay losing?

  I looked up at the box above the stands. Inside those walls and concrete and glass were two trainers who many consider two of the greatest to ever do it, to ever train and direct the powerful creatures we know as pokemon, and they were watching. War Hero Agatha of the Elite Four, and the legendary Pokemon Professor and Champion Samuel Oak.

  And more importantly for me, my sponsor.

  The one who believed in me.

  I remember what I told him in that improvised speech that landed me the sponsorship. I said that I wanted to surprise my opponents, to create new strategies and tactics, to shake the status quo. I said that I wanted to make my opponents and the crowd watching me stunned and bewildered by what my team could do. I wanted to win against everyone who challenged me by a heaven’s difference.

  Or had I lied to Professor Oak?

  He might be here against his choice, but I doubt that he forgot what I said just a couple of months ago. I glanced at Alakazam. The psychic stood to the side of the field, across from Mismagius, watching us move towards our positions. No, watching me. Even if Professor Oak somehow forgot, the Champion level psychic would remind him.

  Alakazam squinted his eyes in amusement. It was all the answer I needed.

  I passed my eyes through the crowd. The elderly, the adults and the children who came here to see something unbelievable. They had paid for it. I made a good impression in Goldenrod, but there was still doubt. They didn’t know exactly what I wanted. I didn't know either.

  But there was a reason I decided to become a pokemon trainer.

  I thought, at nine years old, that I could succeed, that I could reach far and beyond what was expected of an orphan in a small town, that I could stand amongst the greats if I just had the opportunity that Professor Oak gave me. I wanted Indigo to see me the way I saw Agatha, Oak, Pelton, Lance.

  A chuckle left my mouth.

  I lightly shook my head and looked up. There I go again, lying to myself and even diminishing my past.

  I really was incredible back then. Nine years old me didn’t dream small. He didn’t want to be among the greats. He wanted to be the undisputed greatest. Greater than even the one he'd heard about in school, the First.

  I remember reading the speech he gave when he ended his journey in a ragged history book, when he united the old and the new regions, at the place that would become the Indigo Plateau. At that time, the teenager fulfilled the promise that he made when he was thought to be just a foolish child leaving his clan, a small child with limited vocabulary.

  He promised his mother that he was going to be the very best.

  The Very Best.

  Once, I knew that I could be the best of them all. I still wanted to be the best. To triumph against everyone and everything, and how could I be the very best if I don’t give my all here? In front of all those people. In front of the one who gave me the opportunity to be here in the first place.

  My face warped in shocked disgust at that thought.

  “Trainer Scott, are you okay?” The arbiter asked.

  I closed my mouth, looked around and nodded. The arbiter and George were watching me as if I was crazy. Considering that I had what could only be deemed a revelation, maybe I was.

  Alakazam worried me more still. The psychic was looking at me the same way they were, like I was crazy. The difference was that he was reading my mind. He actually believed I was crazy. That amused me. I was not crazy.

  I felt a phantom sensation smoothly recoil from my mind, as if a thin layer of water left my head and flew back to the Alakazam.

  Looks like he doesn’t want to see what’s inside anymore.

  As I finally took my position and raised Mountain’s pokeball, I realized that there’s a difference between refereeing and fighting a match in front of thousands and thousands of people.

  I was nervous. Closing my eyes, I tasted that feeling. Enjoyed it. It proved that I cared about this as much as that nine year old orphan cared.

  I took a deep breath.

  The realization that I was free from that lie liberated me.