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April 17th, 2020 – Estrel Lumiose Congress Center, Kalos Region

Rin fights, she really does. She tries her absolute best, and plays near her limit. She makes no more than two major mistakes all of Day 1. And somehow, somehow…

Why? Why, she asks herself? Why is it never good enough? She does everything – everything – she can. She plays to the best of her ability. And still, everytime – not enough. Not good enough. 7-2 barely clears her for Day 2. Why is this so hard? 

Stupid. She’s stupid. 7-2 isn’t good enough. Alain Viard did not go 7-2. He went 9-0. And then he went 5-0, the next day. He won every single game. Rin’s already falling short. What is she even doing? 

But she tries to breathe, because she knows it’s not the end of the world. Of course not. Alain’s the only player in history to go undefeated all of Internats, if you don’t count the Finals. She shouldn’t be beating herself up for not meeting his standard, but… 

She does. She does anyway. Rin doesn’t know if it’s her nature, her drive – or if it’s her parents, their influence, the pressure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s not good enough. She needs to do better, Day 2. She needs to make Top 8. If she does, especially if she hits Top 4 – that’s her Worlds Day 2 invite, set in stone. That’s what she wants. She wants to go into Worlds with nothing but cold, calm confidence. She wants to be a name that everybody knows. And if she can win Internats, then…

Of course you can. Of course you can win, you idiot. You’ve been training for this. And yeah, she has. She really has. But there’s X, firstly. Reigning Champion. And then there’s the sudden surge from Galar – the twins, Victor and Gloria. Rin knows they’re good. Hop exists, too, and he’s Leon’s younger brother. And everybody knows Leon, because he won Worlds, three years in a row. 2011, 2012, 2013. Seniors, Masters, and then Masters again. Nobody else has ever, ever done that. He doesn’t compete anymore, but…

Well, Hop. The poor kid has a whole bucket load of expectations on him, and so far… So far, he’s been living up to them. Admittedly, he’s not the hotshot of the year – that goes to Gloria – but he’s good. He’s on Rin’s level, for sure. She takes that as a sign that she just needs to be better.

But Rin heads out, ducking through the doors of the event’s center. And that night, she sits there awake in her hotel room, thinking. Five Swiss rounds, and then Top Cut. She’s got this. She’s totally got this. And she does – she really does – want to believe in herself. He was. She needs to be, too. But it’s hard, and she can try all she wants, but…

Well, she can’t know. She can’t see the future. And then she does wonder, too. She wonders if Alain was really as confident as they all thought he was.  

Because if she can fake it, who’s to say he was real, too?

♢ ————————– ♢

August 14th, 2020 – Wyndon ExCel Events Center, Galar Region

Day 1 starts off well. Better than Internats, to be sure. She runs into Alain, before it all starts. It’s over just as quickly as it begins – he apologizes. She says it’s fine, even if she’s not sure if it is. Honestly, Rin doesn’t really know what to think about yesterday. But then she moves along, pushes the conversation to the far back of her mind. She focuses on her matches, breathes the way she practiced, in the way that always seems to calm her nerves. She plays well, too. The team is working just how it needs to, and Primarina finishes things in Round 3 with one last Hydro Cannon based Max Geyser. She doesn’t regret running Hydro Cannon – in fact, she does quite like the extra power it provides. She knocked out this Excadrill back in Round 2 that she definitely wouldn’t have with any other base. But she’s 3-0, and Rin’s happy about it. Even if she knows it’s far from over, even if she’s not stupid enough to think anything is set in stone – the first three rounds are a good indication of how the day is going to go. It’s going well, in that case. She hopes her luck, mentality, and playing level hold. It won’t be easy, thinking straight for 9 full rounds. But she’ll try. 

She heads to her next match with nothing but laser focus, and plays equally as well as she has all day. The field is admittedly getting tougher – Swiss does tend to be like that, of course. The better you do, the harder the opponents get. It’s an effective way of narrowing down a field until only the best truly remain. But she plays well, and her opponent’s Sand team is easily neutralized by a few Max Geysers. She’s seriously loving her Primarina, and the work it’s been putting in. Game Two is moderately more difficult, when they ditch the predictable Tyranitar-Excadrill lead, and bring Dragapult Togekiss instead. But the team isn’t anything unusual, and Rin knows how it works. She’s played enough matches for that. Sand, alongside the fantasy Exca-Toge-Draga core has been popular since Sword and Shield’s release. Nothing seems to be changing about that anytime soon. But it does mean that however good it may be, Rin can play around it. The Rage Powder and Follow Me spam does get on her nerves, but she just breathes, and stays calm. Makes each play with a steady, level head. And it pays off completely, when she wins the set 2-0. She doesn’t smile, but she does nod, and signs the match slip quickly before taking off. She’ll keep playing. She’ll keep winning. And she doesn’t plan on letting anybody stand in the way between her and the trophy that she’s tried so, so hard for. 

♢ ————————– ♢

April 18th, 2020 – Estrel Lumiose Congress Center, Kalos Region

 
Day 2 starts off okay. Just okay. There aren’t more than 40 players left in the field, but Rin knows she can do better. Ideally, she Top Cuts. That would mean Top 8. But in that case, she needs to be aiming for 4-1, just to be careful. 3-2 could land her just short. And so she plays the best she can. Admittedly, she’s tired, but she’s also trying her best. So are her opponents. Rin narrowly wins Round 1, 2-1. And for some reason, her Alolan Sandslash-Ninetales isn’t working. It’s just… not. Hail is good for one reason only – Aurora Veil. But Aurora Veil is good. It’s so, so good. So she has Aurora Veil Ninetales, Slush Rush Dynamax Alolan Sandslash. That was the plan. It worked fine on Day 1, didn’t it? It was fine. Her trashy record was her fault, and her fault alone. So why is it not working? What is she doing wrong? 

Know the difference, Rin. Get it together. 

But she does know – she does know that there are team issues versus player issues. When you lose, you’re supposed to learn. Look back on it the next day, and figure out why, exactly, you lost. Sometimes, it’s not as obvious as a miscalled Protect, or a switch in that your opponent predicts exactly. It can be anything. It can be that one moment, back in Turn Two, when you switched in Primarina instead of Ferrothorn, or when your opponent double Protected in the final turn of Aurora Veil, and you didn’t switch out. Or it’s the team. Your opponent brought Rapid Strike Urshifu, you didn’t prepare a good enough counter. Your Alolan Sandslash was four EVs short of outspeeding the Dragapult under hail. She’s supposed to know the difference. Her fault, or the team? 

Yet, in the end – it’s all her fault. She plays wrong, the team doesn’t work. Either way. Still her fault. Because she made it. So why does it matter? All that matters is the way she lost her second round. The way that she swears, the way that she has to breathe, again and again and again. Because she’s still not good enough. 1-1 is not good enough. What the hell is wrong with her? Why is it never good enough? But Rin swallows, forces the pain back down her throat. She looks up, around the hall. Then she nods to herself. It’s okay. As long as she wins the next one, wins the rest of her games. Pushes herself, pushes her team, even farther. 

Because the only thing that matters is winning. Isn’t that the end of the story? Isn’t that the only way she’ll make it out of here with her pride in one piece? Inside, Rin doesn’t even know. But what is she even worth, if she doesn’t win? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Winning is what matters, anyways. And that’s all she wants to do. That’s all she can do. Because winning is everything. 

♢ ————————– ♢

August 14th, 2020 – Wyndon ExCel Events Center, Galar Region

Rin heads to the match board to check her Round 5 matches, the moment they’re announced. Even if there are over a dozen other players, she pushes her way through the crowd, slowly. And before she can even find her name, she catches a familiar glimpse of black, almost blue-ish hair. And she expects Alain to move, she really does. He doesn’t, and she speaks. 

“You’re on stream,” she says, eyes landing on where his name sits. 

And “I know” is what he says, blankly, voice empty. He doesn’t move, but Rin can notice the tension in his shoulders, in the same way she can notice his fake smile. Players come, and then they go. The crowd thins. She doesn’t want to speak, almost, because she doesn’t want to break the silence. Instead, she finds her own name, and her own table. She memorizes it, quickly and easily. Turns back to Alain, who still stands there, staring blankly while lost in his own thoughts, for reasons Rin can’t even begin to understand. 

“Are you okay?” But she does say something. She does, when they’re completely alone. Silence, for just a moment. And then finally, he turns, even if he doesn’t actually look at her.

“I’m fine.” And she knows he’s lying. She knows he’s lying, but she doesn’t understand why. What reason does he have to lie? What reason does he have, to be so afraid? Why can’t he admit when he’s in pain? 

Then again, that’s a trick, too. So much is just a lie, especially all the crap she says to herself, every single day. She knows. She knows, because even before she started trying, Rin recognized that they were so, so close to the same. Obviously, she didn’t know him. Not really. But she saw enough, and she saw enough to see herself reflected in his violet-blue eyes. The same ones that shone with a pain that she wants to forget, back on the Worlds stage. Alain’s not going to admit to weakness. Rin knows she wouldn’t, either. She doesn’t trust anybody enough for that. And clearly, it’s safe to assume that Alain is the same.

“If you say so,” she says. And she’s not going to push it, but she does want him to know. She sees through him, she sees through his words and his facade. Maybe it’s because they think the same, maybe it’s just her, being stupidly perceptive again. Maybe it’s a mix of both. But what matters is that she knows, he knows. He can lie all he wants, but she understands him, and she can and will see the truth. And so Alain just clenches his jaw, looks up, and breathes. 

“Good luck.” It’s so short. It’s so blank, so empty. She hates it. She hates how defeated he sounds, even if she barely even knows him. Why does her heart hurt for somebody that she barely even knows? It does, anyways. Rin can’t even be bothered to stop it. Inside, she knows that if she fails today, she’ll be no different than him, anyways. And then, before she can even reply, he just leaves. He walks away, towards the stream, towards the stage. Rin’s mouth goes dry, but then she forces herself to breathe, and call after him, just one more time. 

“Alain.” And he stops, he actually does. He doesn’t look back at her, and on one hand, it hurts. Knowing that he won’t even look back for her. On the other hand, she knows she shouldn’t be surprised. But if he had, though – if he had spared a moment, a single glance – he would have seen her smile. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she says. “I know it is.” And she doesn’t know why – she doesn’t know why, or how she can be so sure. But she does know why she does it. Because she really, really wishes somebody would have said the same for her. Because nobody ever did. 

“And I just hope you’re right,” is how he replies. And Rin takes that, she really does. He heard her. He listened. She can’t hope for, and he can’t promise, anything more than that. She’s not asking him to win. She’s not asking him to stick in this game, long enough to make Day 2. But he understands, and she knows – that all she wants him to do is try. And if he can do that, she can’t ask him for anything more. 

Because even by itself, just trying is hard enough. She knows that.

April 18th, 2020 – Estrel Lumiose Congress Center, Kalos Region

She wins her next match. Barely. She wins it, though. That’s what matters. If she can live with the fear of not being enough, she can live too with the fear of being just barely over the edge. And she knows she’s pushing herself – she’s pushing herself, she’s pushing the team, past and beyond its limit. At some point, she’s bound to break. At some point, she’ll miss a Blizzard in the dark. And at some point, her run is going to end. 

You’re not going to win. You’re not good enough to win. 

She knows. She knows that her, Rin Yukino, 2-1, is not going to win the Zone 4 International Championships. She can’t, not like this, and not when she might even miss Top Cut. And she hates it. She hates it, because she tried, and because she wanted to succeed, where Alain failed. She wanted to rise up, after he fell. To fill the space he left behind. And yet… You failed. 

She failed. Of course she did. She never did anything but fail, anyways. She can’t remember the last time anyone, herself included – had ever considered her good enough. But Rin looks up, she swallows her pride. She keeps going. She keeps going, because if nothing else, she knows she’s not quitting until it’s really, truly over. She doesn’t have that quitting in her. Inside, she fights, and she fights until she drops. So she goes to check the board for Round 4, with the mindset that she just needs to win two more. Maybe just one. Maybe. She hates the maybe, not that there’s anything she can change about it, though. But with every play, with every turn – she’s getting closer, she wants to think. I’m getting closer. 

So that’s the sentence she repeats, over and over, all throughout Round 4. Even when Sandslash gets doubled into on the first turn, and she’s left with no Togekiss answer. Even when Ninetales, as she predicted, misses a blind Blizzard. Stupid 70% accuracy. Stupid her, too, for going for it. 

You’re getting closer. But it’s okay. Rin wants to tell herself that it’ll be okay. She’ll keep trying, because if her opponent screws up, just once-

There it is. Dragapult switches in. Triple Axel. It hits three times. Three times, even though it feels as if it never does. She calls the switch, just right. Tsareena takes it out in one turn. Rin, for the briefest second, has this flash of hope – You can win this round. You can win the next one. Just go one step at a time. And she does win – she does win her 4th round. It brings her to 3-1. She’s getting there. 

You’re getting closer. And she thinks of nothing else, nothing other than her games. Than her matches, than those words. Step by step, she will get there. Top Cut. She can make Top Cut, yes she can–

Crap. 

She rereads it, once. Twice. Nothing changes. What did she expect?

Table 6: Rin Yukino [3-1] VS Xavier Rigaud Oshiro [3-1]

And the first thing that runs through her head is actually not the fact that she’s facing X. It’s the fact that X has lost. It’s the fact that he, just like her, has lost. And Rin’s not sure if it makes her feel better, or worse. On one hand, it’s an even playing field. They’re on the same ground. Somehow. On the other hand… 

How tough is this field, considering X has lost?

Gloria. Victor. Hop. That’s three, who Rin safely assumes are undefeated, and one check at the match list confirms that. There are even more players from Galar, also 4-0. They didn’t come to play, that’s for sure. They came to win, just like she did. 

And the difference is they’re actually succeeding. But Rin breathes, and unclenches her jaw. It’s okay. It’s okay. Alain would have beaten X. Alain would have, if he hadn’t dropped. Rin knows she isn’t him, and she never will be. Not like this. But dangit, she’s going to try. 

And the shadow from last year – she’d be lying if she didn’t know that every single person at the entire tournament knew. Z4IC. Everybody in the community knew, too. Nobody had ever dropped, not at this level. Nobody had even thought they’d see it. So that stupid shadow, the stupid reputation – it hung over the whole competition like a black cloud. Alain’s reputation wasn’t the only thing torn from last year. Their entire region, the entire Zone, the entire Championships. Nobody really cared, anymore. They were all irrelevant, everyone would say. Alain’s shot at winning Worlds was all that they had left, all they had that could fix them. And he failed. 

But it’s not his fault, Rin will say to herself, time and time again. Because she knows it’s not. It’s not his fault. He played well. And Red just played better. But she knows that this year, the competition isn’t a joke. Players in Zone 4 want to fill the place Alain left behind. She’s one of them. 

And some people will say that there really was no Champion, last year. In that regard, she feels bad for X, who she has to play in five minutes. But this year, the slate is blank. Players want to win, she knows. She’s not the only one. They also want to prove to the Pokemon fandom that just because last year was a whole dumpster fire, they aren’t. Zone 4 can, and will, prove that they can compete with the best. That they are the best. 

So maybe it’s that appeal – the appeal of glory, of finally seeing the light – that pushes so many players to the competition. Players, better than her. Better than X. But Rin stops thinking, and she focuses. She heads to Table 6, where X is already sitting, and takes a deep breath. Then she sits, pulls out her Switch and her earbuds, and lets herself just play. Because there’s nothing more she can do, there’s nothing more for her to try. She just plays. She tries. She’ll do what she can, to win, even if it’s not enough. Because after all, what else can she do, when she’s come this far? 

She won’t quit. She won’t quit, not like he did. Even if either way, it might just be over anyways. And she just hopes it’s not. 

♢ ————————– ♢

August 14th, 2020 – Wyndon ExCel Events Center, Galar Region

Round 5 goes better than Rin could have ever imagined. She plays her best, and she, for once, is proud. She isn’t sure what it is – what it is that makes her… that makes her play right. But she does. She wins. She wins in what is quite possibly the fastest 2-0 she’s ever played. She doesn’t understand, how it was that easy. Or rather, it wasn’t easy – nothing about this level of VGC is easy. But she’s able to play, she’s able to, even if just barely, remember why she started. Started this game. At one point, she played for fun. Not for the records, for the glory. For the winning. She lost that side of her years ago, but…

Every now and then, it’s there. It really is. And yeah, it’s not like she knows what to do with it. But it’s there. Once, every fifty games – she’ll almost smile. She almost will. She’ll watch her opponent’s Dusclops go down with just one shot, she’ll watch the G-Max Venusaur faint to one last Max Hailstorm. That’s what makes her happy, even if just barely. Even if inside, she knows that she needs to keep fighting. She’s not done yet. She’s not done, until she has the First Place trophy in her hands. She’s not done until it’s her name, her team – on the top of the bracket. But she does relax, for even the slightest second. Signs her match slip, and then takes off. 

And Rin doesn’t think, but then she realizes how her feet move her to the edge of the VGC stage, the stream. She watches Alain play, from one side, leaning up against the barrier. And she watches, as his Charizard deals a final Blast Burn. She watches as he wins. And most importantly, she watches when he smiles. When he just… lights up. And Rin just-

Well, she smiles, too. She smiles because he does. She doesn’t know if it’s stupid, but…

Seeing him happy makes her happy. Why, she isn’t sure why. But it does. He smiles. He stands, pulling off his headphones, and just… smiles. He shakes his opponent’s hand, the crowd cheers. And Rin stands, and she watches his interview, too. Just because she doesn’t have anything else to do. Totally. 

(That’s a lie. She really, really wants to go eat lunch.)

“Congratulations, Alain! How are you feeling after that match?” It’s as if they don’t already know. As if they don’t already know, that the moment Alain smiles, he’s really and truly happy. He isn’t smiling, at that moment, but Rin knows. He’s still happy. He really is. And what makes her even happier is that what he says next can’t be a lie. 

“I’m happy with it.” And never, almost never, do you get more than short, one sentence replies out of Alain Viard. But then he breathes, and he keeps going. “I played… admittedly, the best I have today. And I’m proud of that.” Rin smiles, again, from her end of the stage. Alain doesn’t look her way, but that’s all right with her. It’s not like she wants him seeing her like this, anyways. She isn’t sure why. 

  “That’s good to hear!” The interviewer replies. Alain looks down, shuffling slightly, and nods once. Then he looks back up. “So, obviously, I think a lot of people have noticed your… absence, this past season.” Rin almost flinches, she really does. Instead, she just looks down, swallows, and wishes she could do something other than just stand there. She can’t. But Alain just clenches his jaw, nods. The interviewer keeps going. “Is there a reason for that? And how does it feel to be back at such a big event, coming off your invite from Top 4 last year?” There are, so, so many undertones to that comment. That question. Is there a reason, he quit? And is there a reason, he decided it was a good idea to come back at a tournament this large, with no practice? And then there’s the obvious insinuation – you didn’t qualify. Anybody could have as well as flat out said “you don’t deserve to be here.” But Alain just stands there, face straight, and shrugs. 

“I’ve been busy, that’s all. Wrapping up stuff in school, prepping for college next year. And I think I needed a break to clear my head a bit.” She admires how he keeps his cool, how he can say it all with a straight face, and the slightest hint of a smile. And she’s happy for him, too. “And yeah, I know. I didn’t qualify, not really. I didn’t hit the CP goal like everyone else here did. But… I came because it felt wrong, I guess? It felt wrong to miss Worlds. I’ve been competing here for the past four years. And there’s-” He stops. Rin stares. He looks at the camera, and the smile is gone. “There’s a chance this is my last one, at least for a while. There really is. But I wanted to come, one last time. I had the invite. I missed playing. So… yeah. I’m here, I guess. Not to win, not really. But I’m gonna at least play my best.” The smile is back, just barely. Rin can’t tell if it’s fake or not. She hopes it’s not. She hopes this interview hasn’t ruined his mood from earlier. Because he deserves to be happy sometimes. 

“Well, it’s nice to have you back!” Alain doesn’t nod. He just stands, and the interviewer continues. “And to touch upon your last statement a bit – you said your goal isn’t necessarily to win, it’s just to play your best. But placing wise, do you have a goal at all?” Because you always seemed to, is exactly what Rin thinks. The interviewer doesn’t say that. Rin, to be honest, really does want to know. Alain doesn’t speak for a moment, and then he nods. 

“Going into this, I didn’t. Like I said – just play my best, for one last tournament.” The moment the words leave his mouth, Rin knows. The chance he mentioned earlier – it wasn’t just that. He knows. Alain is quitting after this. And it hurts her, and she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t want him to quit – but why does she care? Why does it matter to her?

Because she idolizes him. She knows she does. She has for the past two, three years.  She doesn’t want him to quit. But then again, it’s not like she has a say, does she? Nobody does, except him. 

“But I’m 3-2 right now, and…” He looks out over the crowd. “I don’t expect to. But I want to make Day 2.” And she can’t help it – Rin smiles, again. Maybe it’s because yesterday, he said he didn’t expect to – and even if he still doesn’t, he wants to try. That in itself makes her happy. And then…

“Plus, when I said I didn’t think I even could, well…” He pauses. Smiles, slightly. “Somebody told me that was stupid, and I think that wacked some sense into me.” She freezes. Then she smiles, again. She knows it’s her, and he doesn’t need to say it. It makes her happier than it really should. “I can at least try, I think,” he says. “I hope I can make it. And if I don’t, that’ll be okay. Just trying my best. That’s all I’m here for.” And then they cut it – a good luck from the interviewer, a couple more nods. But they do end it, there. The stream moves on. The announcers review the match, in detail, while Alain disappears backstage. Rin heads off, and pulls out a late lunch from her backpack. She’s still smiling, ever so slightly. And she waits, because she at least wants to say congratulations. 

And inside, she almost wishes she didn’t. Because she’s not here to be happy. 

But it’s better to be happy for him, than to be happy for herself, right?

April 18th, 2020 – Estrel Lumiose Congress Center, Kalos Region

Rin knows her focus is slipping. She hates herself for it, but it is. It’s her fifth round – not many at all, not in comparison to Worlds – but it’s enough that her mind begins to spin, and it’s enough to blame for the mistakes she continues to make. It’s hard to play right when she’s been thinking on her feet for the past four and a half hours, because these are some of the hardest matches she’s played. Whether it’s her fault or the team’s, it doesn’t matter. She’s still trying her best, and it’s still not good enough. Not good enough, as X’s Duraludon lands one final Flash Cannon into her Tsareena, ending their first game in a swift 4-1. She swears, and then sighs, forcing himself to think. In her head, she’s in Team Preview already. She knows his team, and he knows hers. But what can she even do?

Last round, she led Ninetales-Whimsicott, with Tsareena and Inteleon in the back. It didn’t work. It didn’t work at all. And she thinks about X’s team – Meowstic, Conkeldurr, Togekiss, Arcanine, Jellicent, Duraludon. She didn’t bring Hail last time – not in front of a fire type, a steel type, and a fighting type, covering all of Ninetales and Sandslash’s quad weaknesses. But does she have another option? Inteleon didn’t work for offense last time – not with a Max Lightning from Duraludon, not with Conkeldurr’s Thunder Punch. Tsareena could be a Dynamax candidate, but there’s a Scope Lens Max Togekiss possibility, and-

They go into Team Preview for real. 90 seconds. Rin has 90 seconds to get a game plan to keep her in this tournament, and she thinks as fast as she can. 

Hail. But in the end, where do her thoughts even lead her? In circles. Absolutely nowhere. Because she can’t come up with a single idea outside of Hail. Five seconds.  

Ninetales. First. 

Four. 

Sandslash. Second. 

Three. Shoot. Who in the back, who to cover-

Incineroar. 

 Two. Dangit. There’s no time.

Inteleon. 

One. 

Confirm. 

She breathes, and the screen moves forwards. Her hands are sweating, already. Maybe she should have brought Tsareena, or maybe she should have brought-

Breathe. Breathe, Yukino. Breathe. She tries. She does breathe, in and out, slowly. And she breathes, as X’s avatar sends two Pokeballs spiraling through the air-

Meowstic Togekiss. 

She’ll take it, she really will. She tries not to overthink the first turn, and goes for Aurora Veil with Ninetales, which is obvious enough. She pauses, though, when it comes to her Sandslash. She casts a look across the table, not that it helps. X’s face is blank, and then he’s locked in his moves already. Rin looks back down. Is a Max Hailstorm too predictable? What about Max Steelspike, for the defense boost in case he has the Conkeldurr in the back? But the Duraludon worked well last time, so he probably brought it again, which means it doesn’t really matter, right? 

You’re fine, Rin. You’re fine. She tries to stay calm, she really does. She tries to, when she decides she’s just gotta try. Dynamax. Max Steelspike into the Meowstic – she can’t stop it from Light Screening, but she wants the Thunder Wave and Fake Out pressure gone. Togekiss isn’t doing anything to her, anyways, and a Follow Me doesn’t mean the end of the world, necessarily. 

And five seconds later, Meowstic clicks Fake Out into Ninetales. Rin nods. She doesn’t like the fact that Ninetales flinches, that Aurora Veil will have to wait a turn. But Max Steelspike hits, Togekiss switches into Arcanine. Meowstic goes down, and Rin’s done what she wanted to. And she plays – she plays her best, she really does. Aurora Veil. Max Quake, to take out the Arcanine. A turn later, Ninetales drops. But that’s okay, as Sandslash hits its third Max move. The Max Quake does good damage to Duraludon, and Incineroar switches in. Fake Out. Drill Run. Then Parting Shot, then a switch to Inteleon. X stalls out the Hail with Protects, but Inteleon Snipe Shots into Togekiss before falling to a Thunderbolt, and just one more Drill Run takes out Duraludon. Rin takes Game Two. Hell yes. But then there’s Game Three. It’s not over. It’s not over, until she’s 4-1.

And fifteen minutes later, it’s done. Game Three is done. And Sandslash drops, it collapses, it disappears in a flash of blue-

No. 

Rin loses. She loses, to X. She’s 3-2. And she’s not going to make Top Cut. 

So why do I always fail? 

She always does. She always does, she always just misses Top Cut. Every. Single. Time. She places tenth. Tenth. How? How, did she fall just short, by one fifth of a percent in her Resistance? What the hell? What is wrong with me? Why am I not good enough, not ever? 

And she’s not the only one who went 3-2. There are plenty of them, in fact. Two of them made Top Cut. She didn’t. And it hurts, it sucks. She tried her best, she played her entire heart out, and still. Not enough. So yeah, she’s disappointed in herself. She really is. But maybe, maybe. Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe if she can improve, improve just enough – she can keep fighting. She can get better. She can prep harder than anyone for Worlds. If Alain isn’t there, maybe she stand a chance–

Try. Try, Rin. You’ve come too far to stop trying now. And in the end, she isn’t even sure if it’ll matter. If she isn’t good enough now, will she ever be? She needs a miracle. She needs something. But maybe, in the end, just her trying will be enough. 

But she knows, in the end – it just hurts to always be a failure. 

♢ ————————– ♢

August 14th, 2020 – Wyndon ExCel Events Center, Galar Region

Rin IDs her last round. She and her opponent agree – eight rounds are enough for one day,  eight rounds are plenty. 8-0-1. She’ll take it. She will so take it. And she’s proud, too. She’s undefeated. She’s actually undefeated. And Rin checks the standings, one more time. 

Alain Viard. 6-2. He can still make it. He can make it, if he just wins one more. Rin wishes he was on stream, just so she could watch. He’s not. But she’ll wait, she’ll wait for the next half hour or so. She’ll wait, as calmly as she can. And she waits, even though she knows she could just leave – other players are doing that, as their rounds wrap up. They go, after being at the venue for 10 hours. Rin… Rin doesn’t. She waits. Still. She doesn’t usually wait for anyone, and she’s also not quite sure why she can’t convince herself to just… leave. It’s not worth it, she wants to say. Alain won’t care. Why would he care? But maybe it’s because she cares. She cares, just enough, to hang around a little longer. To find out if maybe, just maybe, he’ll be playing tomorrow with her-

And then he wins. He wins. It’s one hell of a set, it takes an entire nother hour, but he wins. 

So Rin smiles. She stands, ten feet away, Switch tucked in her backpack, hands shoved in her pockets, and she smiles. Alain smiles. She sees his face light up, his opponent faceplant into an Eevee plushie – and she knows he’s won. The venue is quiet, so close to quiet. But she just stands, she smiles, he smiles. He signs his match slip, she turns, almost just to go-

“Rin.” But she stops, when he calls after her. She doesn’t want to admit that she always, always will. “Did you…” He pauses. “Did you wait for me?” And she almost wants to lie. She almost wants to lie, saying her round went late. But he’d know. So she just turns, she shrugs, she nods. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” And he smiles at her, she almost, almost smiles right back at him. She catches the way his eyes light, the way he brushes his hair back, and the way that it just makes her happy. The smile is real. He’s smiled for real, twice today. She’s smiled, more times than she has in so, so long. What does that say about her? About… them? They’re friends, she can say – maybe? Huh. Friends. 

“You didn’t have to,” he says. Another pause. Another smile. “But thank you.” And his smile – the kind of smile that would have lit up any of her friend’s faces, three years ago – it makes her smile, too. She almost doesn’t want to. She almost doesn’t want to let him see her like this. But hell, it’s hard not to. Hard not to smile when he does. And maybe it’s okay for her to not fake it all around him, if he’s not fake around her. 

“Of course,” is then what she says. And then she turns, takes a deep breath. “I should go, though. Probably gonna get something to eat, and make sure the team is ready for tomorrow. I guess I’ll see you then?” It’s an offer, almost. Holding out her hand. We’re friends, right? That’s what she says. Behind her, he shuffles, and looks up.

“I-” A pause. A deep breath. “You know what, let’s try this again.” She turns, slightly. He smiles, again, barely. “Do you… have dinner plans?” And for the second time, he asks. For the second time, Rin shakes her head. This time, she turns all the way back to face him. 

“No, not really.” Smiles back, because she knows what he means. 

And this time, she’ll say yes.  

♢ ——- …with the strength to rise. ——-♢