Chapter 90: Gastrodon Is Here! + Patricia's Decisive Match
The water was cold enough to hurt.
Dariana stood ankle-deep in the shallows of the eastern canal, her breath fogging in the gray morning air. The industrial district stretched behind her—abandoned warehouses, rusted cranes, the skeletal remains of a shipyard that hadn't seen a vessel in decades. Ahead of her, the canal widened into a quiet basin where the water ran clear and deep.
She'd chosen this place for a reason.
No distractions. No spectators. Just her and Shellos.
The Water-type hovered at the edge of the basin, its soft blue-and-cream body rippling with the gentle current. Its antennae swayed slowly, sensing the water, the air, the faint vibrations of the city above. Its large, warm eyes watched Dariana with quiet patience.
"You ready?" Dariana asked.
Shellos bobbed once.
"Good. Let's start with Water Pulse."
---
Shellos inhaled.
The water around it shimmered. Then it expelled a perfect ring of pressurized water that shot across the basin and struck a rusted buoy fifty feet away.
The buoy rocked.
"Again."
Shellos fired.
The buoy rocked harder.
"Good. Now I want you to hold it."
Shellos's eyes narrowed.
It gathered water in its throat. Held it. Released.
The pulse was stronger this time—tighter, more controlled. It struck the buoy dead center and sent it spinning.
Dariana smiled.
"That's it."
---
They trained for an hour.
Water Pulse. Mud Bomb. Hidden Power. Rain Dance. Dariana pushed Shellos through every technique in its arsenal, watching for weaknesses, noting improvements. The Water-type responded well—better than well. It was focused. Determined. It hit every target she called, dodged every imaginary attack she described, held every position she demanded.
But something was off.
Dariana couldn't name it. Not at first. Just a feeling in her gut—a sense that Shellos was holding back. Not from laziness. Not from fear. From something deeper.
She called a halt.
"Break time."
Shellos drifted to the edge of the basin and rested against a submerged rock. Its breathing was steady. Its eyes were calm. But there was a tension in its body—a coiled energy that hadn't been there before.
Dariana waded over and knelt beside it.
"What's wrong?"
Shellos looked at her.
It didn't answer. It couldn't. But Dariana had spent enough time with Pokémon to read the subtle shifts in their behavior—the way Shellos's antennae drooped when it was tired, the way its eyes brightened when it was excited, the way its body language shifted when it was uncertain.
Right now, Shellos looked... restless.
Not tired. Not scared.
Restless.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Dariana said.
Shellos blinked.
"Something's changing."
---
She'd noticed it three days ago.
Shellos had been training with Pachirisu in the hostel courtyard when it suddenly stopped mid-attack. Its body had pulsed with a strange light—brief, faint, gone before Dariana could be sure she'd seen it. She'd dismissed it as a trick of the light. A reflection off the windows.
But then it happened again the next day. And the day after that.
Each time, the light lasted a little longer. Each time, Shellos seemed a little stronger. A little faster. A little more... something.
Dariana had seen Pokémon evolve before. She knew the signs.
But she also knew that evolution couldn't be forced. It happened when it happened—when the Pokémon was ready.
Shellos wasn't ready yet.
But it was close.
---
She stood up.
"Let's go again."
Shellos pushed off the rock.
"Water Pulse. Full power."
Shellos gathered water.
It released.
The pulse was immense—a spiraling torrent that tore across the basin and obliterated the buoy. Metal shrieked. Water exploded. When the spray cleared, the buoy was gone.
Dariana stared.
"Holy shit."
Shellos bobbed.
It looked pleased with itself.
"Okay," Dariana said. "Okay. Let's try something different."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small disc—a TM she'd been saving for weeks. She'd bought it from a vendor in the market district, spent half her savings on it, and hadn't used it yet because she wasn't sure Shellos was ready.
Now she was sure.
"Earth Power," she said. "I want you to learn it."
Shellos's eyes widened.
It understood.
---
The TM glowed as Dariana pressed it to Shellos's forehead.
The Water-type shuddered. Its body pulsed with light—not the faint flicker from before, but a deep, thrumming radiance that spread from its core to its extremities. Its antennae stiffened. Its eyes flashed. Its skin rippled with new patterns—blue and cream swirling together, hardening, shifting.
Dariana stepped back.
"No way."
Shellos was evolving.
---
The light intensified.
Shellos's body grew. Its soft, flexible shape hardened into something more solid—something larger, heavier, more powerful. Its antennae elongated and thickened. Its eyes sharpened. Its skin darkened to a deep sea-blue, mottled with cream and yellow markings that pulsed with latent energy.
The light faded.
Gastrodon stood before her.
---
Dariana didn't move.
She couldn't.
The Sea Slug Pokémon loomed in the shallows, easily twice Shellos's size. Its body was massive—bulbous, muscular, covered in a thick layer of slime that glistened in the gray light. Its antennae were now sensory organs of immense complexity, capable of detecting the faintest tremors in the water, the air, the earth itself.
Its eyes—those same warm, patient eyes—fixed on Dariana.
It waited.
Dariana's hands were shaking.
"You did it," she whispered.
Gastrodon rumbled.
It was a deep, resonant sound—like the ocean itself had spoken. It vibrated through the water, through the air, through Dariana's chest.
She laughed.
It was a shaky, disbelieving sound. A sound that came from somewhere deep and raw and real.
"You did it," she said again.
Gastrodon slid forward.
It loomed over her—a massive, gentle presence that blocked the wind and cast a shadow across the basin. Its antennae reached out and brushed against her face. They were cold. Wet. Alive.
Dariana reached up and pressed her palm against its side.
"Welcome to the team," she said.
Gastrodon rumbled again.
This time, it sounded like a purr.
---
They stayed in the basin for another hour.
Dariana ran Gastrodon through its new moves—Earth Power, Muddy Water, Recover, Ice Beam. The Sea Slug Pokémon absorbed the training like a sponge, adapting to its new body with an ease that bordered on alarming. It was faster than it looked. Stronger than it should be. More agile than any creature its size had a right to be.
But the most remarkable thing was its precision.
Shellos had been patient. Controlled. Adaptive.
Gastrodon was all of those things—and something more. It had a presence now. A weight. A gravity that made everything around it seem small.
Dariana felt it in the water against her skin. In the air against her face. In the ground beneath her feet.
Gastrodon was no longer a Pokémon she had to protect.
It was a Pokémon that could protect her.
---
When they finished, Dariana sat on the edge of the basin with her feet dangling in the water. Gastrodon rested beside her, its massive body half-submerged, its eyes half-closed. The wind had picked up. The clouds had thickened. A light rain had begun to fall.
Dariana didn't mind.
She pulled out her pokédex and updated Gastrodon's entry. The screen flickered as it registered the new data—name, type, size, weight, moves. She scrolled through the information, noting the changes with a quiet sense of pride.
Thirteen challenges. Nine wins. Four losses.
She was still two wins away from qualifying.
But now she had something she hadn't had before.
A tank.
A wall.
A Pokémon that could take hits and keep fighting.
---
Her phone buzzed.
She pulled it out and checked the screen.
Patricia: where are you?
Dariana: industrial district. training.
Patricia: bri
Patricia: briv wants to do dinner. you in?
Dariana: when?
Patricia: 7. hostel rooftop.
Dariana: i'll be there.
Patricia: everything okay?
Dariana hesitated.
Then she typed:
Dariana: shellos evolved.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Patricia: WHAT
Patricia: DARIANA
Patricia: WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME
Dariana: i was busy
Patricia: I'M COMING TO SEE
Dariana: patricia
Patricia: TOO LATE. WHERE ARE YOU.
Dariana laughed.
She typed the address.
---
Patricia arrived twenty minutes later.
She burst through the rusted gate like a woman possessed, her blond hair whipping in the wind, her blue eyes blazing with excitement. Lopunny followed close behind, its ears twitching with curiosity.
"Where is it?" Patricia demanded.
Dariana pointed.
Patricia looked.
Her jaw dropped.
"Holy shit."
Gastrodon rose from the water.
It was even more impressive in the rain—a massive, glistening presence that seemed to absorb the light around it. Its antennae swayed. Its eyes gleamed. Its body pulsed with quiet power.
Patricia walked forward slowly.
She stopped in front of Gastrodon and reached out.
Gastrodon lowered its head.
Patricia touched its side.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"He," Dariana said. "I think."
Patricia laughed.
"Whatever. He's beautiful."
Gastrodon rumbled.
Patricia's hand didn't move.
"How did it happen?"
"I don't know. We were training. I used a TM. Then—" She gestured vaguely. "Poof."
"Poof."
"Yeah."
Patricia turned to face her.
"You're being very calm about this."
"I'm not."
"You look calm."
"I'm screaming on the inside."
Patricia laughed again.
"That's more like it."
---
They sat on the edge of the basin together.
Lopunny curled up next to Gastrodon and rested its head against the Sea Slug Pokémon's side. Gastrodon didn't seem to mind. Its antennae drifted lazily through the water, tracing patterns in the rain.
"So," Patricia said. "What now?"
"Now I keep training. Two more wins. Then I qualify."
"You're close."
"I know."
"You'll make it."
"I know."
Patricia nudged her.
"Arrogant."
"Confident."
"Same thing."
Dariana smiled.
"Thanks for coming."
"Of course."
Patricia leaned against her shoulder.
"I'm proud of you."
"Thanks."
"I mean it."
"I know."
They sat in silence for a while.
The rain fell. The water rippled. The city hummed above them like a distant dream.
---
Briv and Nicola arrived at seven.
The hostel rooftop had been transformed into a makeshift dining area—string lights, folding chairs, a portable grill that Briv had somehow convinced the concierge to let him use. The smell of grilled vegetables and seasoned meat filled the air. Music played from a small speaker in the corner.
Gastrodon was the center of attention.
Briv circled it three times, muttering under his breath.
"Incredible," he said. "Absolutely incredible."
Gastrodon preened.
Nicola stood off to the side, arms crossed, her sharp brown eyes taking in every detail.
"East Sea variant," she said.
Dariana nodded.
"It's rare."
"I know."
"Good defenses. Good typing. Water and Ground covers a lot of weaknesses."
"I know."
Nicola looked at her.
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."
They held each other's gaze for a moment.
Then Nicola nodded and walked toward the grill.
---
Dinner was loud.
They talked about the League. About strategies. About matchups and movesets and the trainers they'd face. Briv sketched out brackets on a napkin. Patricia argued with him about seeding. Nicola listened in silence, occasionally interjecting with a correction or a counterpoint.
Dariana mostly ate.
Gastrodon rested beside her, its massive body taking up most of the rooftop. Lopunny had claimed a spot on its back, curled into a ball of brown fur and cream-colored fluff. Pachirisu perched on Gastrodon's antennae, chattering happily at the stars.
It was good.
It was right.
It was family.
---
After dinner, they sat in a loose circle and watched the city.
The crystal towers gleamed in the distance. The floating bridges hummed with traffic. The canals sparkled like veins of light. Aethelburg was beautiful at night—a city of dreams and ambitions, of victories and defeats, of beginnings and endings.
Dariana looked at her friends.
Briv, leaning against Patricia, his arm around her shoulders.
Patricia, smiling at something he'd said, her eyes bright with love.
Nicola, sitting apart but not alone, her expression unreadable but her posture relaxed.
And her Pokémon—Gastrodon, Pachirisu, Gallade, Croagunk, Glaceon, Combee—all nearby, all safe, all hers.
She'd come a long way.
---
"You okay?"
Dariana blinked.
Briv was looking at her.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You're quiet."
"Just thinking."
"About?"
She hesitated.
"About how fast things change."
Briv nodded.
"Yeah."
"I mean—" She gestured at Gastrodon. "This morning, he was a Shellos. Now he's..." She trailed off.
"A tank."
"Exactly."
Briv smiled.
"That's evolution for you."
"I guess."
"You guess?"
"I mean—" She struggled to find the words. "I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn't think it would happen now."
"Timing's everything."
"I know."
Briv looked at her.
"You ready for the League?"
"I think so."
"You think?"
"I will be."
He nodded.
"Good."
He stood up and stretched.
"We should get some sleep."
"Yeah."
---
They said their goodnights.
Patricia hugged Dariana and kissed her cheek.
Nicola nodded and walked toward the stairs.
Briv lingered for a moment.
"Hey," he said.
"Yeah?"
"Tomorrow. Training. Canal district. You in?"
Dariana smiled.
"Yeah."
"Good."
He walked away.
---
Dariana stayed on the rooftop.
The rain had stopped. The clouds had cleared. The stars had emerged—thousands of them, scattered across the black like spilled diamonds.
Gastrodon rumbled.
Dariana looked at it.
"What?"
Gastrodon rumbled again.
It was a question.
Dariana understood.
"I'm okay. Just thinking."
Gastrodon waited.
"About the League. About what happens after." She paused. "About whether I'm good enough."
Gastrodon leaned into her.
Its body was warm. Solid. Real.
Dariana leaned back.
"You think I'm good enough?"
Gastrodon rumbled.
It was an answer.
Dariana smiled.
"Thanks."
---
The next morning, she woke before dawn.
She dressed quickly, grabbed her bag, and headed for the canal district.
Briv was already there.
They trained for three hours—Gastrodon against Infernape, Pachirisu against Gible, Gallade against Riolu. The Pokémon pushed each other hard. The trainers pushed themselves harder.
When they finished, Dariana was exhausted.
But she was smiling.
---
Two more wins.
Two more challenges.
Then the League.
She was ready.
She had to be.
---
That night, she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
Gastrodon's pokéball rested on the nightstand.
She reached out and touched it.
Tomorrow, she would fight.
Tomorrow, she would win.
Tomorrow, she would take another step toward her dream.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, she slept without fear.
=====
The morning light bled through the curtains like honey, slow and golden and thick with promise. Dariana woke to the sound of Pachirisu scratching at her door, its tiny claws making a sound like pebbles on glass. She groaned, rolled over, and checked her phone.
Six missed messages. All from Patricia.
The first three were exclamation points. The fourth was a photo of Gastrodon with hearts drawn over it in marker. The fifth said I'm still not over this. The sixth, sent at 5:47 AM, simply read: big day. need to talk.
Dariana sat up.
Pachirisu scratched again.
"Coming," she muttered.
---
Patricia was already in the courtyard when Dariana came down. She was pacing—actually pacing—her boots leaving dark scuffs on the cobblestones. Lopunny sat nearby with its ears drooped, watching its trainer with the patient concern of a creature who had seen this behavior many times before.
Magby was perched on the fountain's edge, flames flickering from its snout in nervous little bursts. Floatzel lounged in the water, twin tails swishing lazily. Cranidos was asleep against a bench, its thick skull resting on its forelimbs.
Patricia stopped pacing when she saw Dariana.
"Flannery," she said.
Dariana blinked.
"What?"
"Flannery Challenged me. Last night. Right after I got back from the rooftop." Patricia's voice was tight, clipped, the words tumbling out like she'd been holding them in all night. "Three-on-three. Axel referees. If I win, I qualify for the League. If I lose—"
She didn't finish.
Dariana understood.
"When?"
"Today. Noon. The old stadium in the northern district."
---
They walked together through the waking city.
Aethelburg was different in the morning—softer, slower, the crystal towers catching the sunrise and scattering it across the canals like spilled paint. Vendors were setting up their stalls. Children ran along the floating bridges, laughing. A street musician played something mournful on a wooden flute.
None of it registered.
Patricia's jaw was set. Her hands were shoved deep in her jacket pockets. She walked like a woman marching toward a verdict, each step deliberate, each breath measured.
Dariana stayed close but said nothing.
Some silences didn't need filling.
---
The northern stadium was a relic.
Once, it had been the pride of Aethelburg—a massive coliseum with seating for thousands, its walls adorned with mosaics of legendary Pokémon and victorious trainers. Now, it was a shell. Half the roof had collapsed. Vines crawled up the eastern wall. Weeds pushed through cracks in the field.
But the central arena remained intact.
A perfect rectangle of packed earth, surrounded by crumbling stone, open to the sky.
Axel was already there.
He stood at the center line with his arms crossed, his Rotom flickering in lazy circles above his head. His green eyes tracked Patricia as she approached, unreadable and sharp.
Flannery stood opposite him.
She was smaller than Patricia had expected—compact, wiry, with a shock of red hair that seemed to defy gravity. Her eyes were the color of embers, bright and restless. She wore a sleeveless jacket over a tank top, and her arms were crisscrossed with faint scars.
She smiled when she saw Patricia.
"About time," she said.
---
"Standard rules," Axel said. "Three-on-three. No substitutions. No items. Victory by elimination."
He looked at Patricia.
"You understand what's at stake?"
"Yes."
He looked at Flannery.
"You?"
Flannery's smile widened.
"Wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Axel nodded.
"Then send out your first Pokémon."
---
Flannery moved first.
"Quilava. Let's go."
The Fire-type emerged with a sharp cry.
Quilava was sleek and agile, its body covered in dark blue fur that crackled with latent heat. The flame on its back burned low but steady. Its red eyes locked onto Patricia with immediate, predatory focus.
Patricia studied it.
Fire-type. Fast. Probably a mixed attacker. Weak to Water, Ground, and Rock.
She reached for her first pokéball.
"Floatzel. You're up."
---
Floatzel burst from its ball with a roar.
The Water-type landed on the packed earth and immediately lowered into a fighting stance. Its twin tails whipped behind it. Its flotation sac pulsed with anticipation. Its eyes were bright and hungry.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Patricia moved first.
"Floatzel. Aqua Jet."
Floatzel's body ignited with water.
It launched forward like a missile—straight, fast, almost invisible.
Quilava tried to dodge.
Too slow.
Floatzel struck it square in the chest and sent it tumbling across the arena.
"Get up," Flannery said.
Quilava scrambled to its feet.
Its fur was singed. Its breathing was ragged. But its eyes were still burning.
"Flame Wheel," Flannery said.
Quilava's body erupted with fire.
It rolled forward—a blazing wheel of destruction that carved a line across the field.
"Waterfall," Patricia said.
Floatzel's body erupted with water.
It slammed into Quilava head-on.
Fire met water.
Steam exploded outward.
Both Pokémon were thrown backward.
Floatzel landed on its feet.
Quilava didn't.
"Quilava is unable to battle," Axel said. "Floatzel wins."
---
Flannery recalled her Pokémon.
She didn't look upset.
"Not bad," she said. "But that was the warm-up."
She reached for her second ball.
"Arcanine. Let's go."
---
Arcanine emerged with a roar that shook the stadium.
The Fire-type was massive—easily six feet at the shoulder, with a coat of orange and black fur that gleamed like burnished copper. Its muscles rippled beneath its skin. Its eyes were the color of molten gold. Heat radiated from its body in visible waves.
Patricia's mouth went dry.
"Floatzel. Return."
She recalled the Water-type.
"Magby. You're up."
---
Magby emerged with a determined chirp.
The tiny Fire-type looked up at Arcanine.
Then up.
Then further up.
It swallowed.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Flannery moved first.
"Arcanine. Extreme Speed."
Arcanine vanished.
It reappeared behind Magby.
Then it struck.
The impact sent Magby flying across the arena. The tiny Fire-type hit the eastern wall and crumpled. It didn't move.
"Magby is unable to battle," Axel said. "Arcanine wins."
---
Patricia recalled her Pokémon.
One down. Two to go.
She looked at Arcanine.
Fire-type. Massive. Fast. Strong. Probably knows Crunch, which would wreck her remaining options if she wasn't careful.
She reached for her third ball.
"Cranidos. You're up."
---
Cranidos emerged with a fierce cry.
The Rock-type landed on the packed earth and immediately lowered its head. Its thick skull gleamed in the light. Its small eyes burned with determination. It was half Arcanine's size, but it didn't seem to notice.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Cranidos. Head Smash."
Cranidos charged.
It moved like a battering ram—straight, fast, unstoppable.
Arcanine tried to dodge.
Too slow.
Cranidos's skull connected with Arcanine's ribs.
The Fire-type howled.
It staggered backward. It didn't fall. But it was hurt.
"Cranidos. Again."
Cranidos turned.
It charged again.
"Arcanine. Crunch."
Arcanine's jaws ignited with dark energy.
It lunged.
Its teeth closed around Cranidos's neck.
Cranidos screamed.
"Zen Headbutt," Patricia said.
Cranidos's skull glowed.
It slammed its head into Arcanine's jaw.
The Fire-type released its grip.
It stumbled.
"Now," Patricia said. "Head Smash. Full power."
Cranidos charged.
It hit Arcanine square in the chest.
The Fire-type flew backward. It hit the ground. It slid.
It didn't get up.
"Arcanine is unable to battle," Axel said. "Cranidos wins."
---
Flannery recalled her Pokémon.
She was still smiling.
"Two down," she said. "One to go."
She reached for her final ball.
"Monferno. Let's finish this."
---
Monferno emerged with a shriek.
The Fire-Fighting type was lean and wiry, its orange fur matted with battle scars. The flame on its tail burned bright and hot. Its eyes were sharp and cunning. It bounced on its heels, fists raised, ready.
Patricia studied it.
Fire and Fighting. Weak to Water, Ground, and Psychic. Cranidos was Rock-type—neutral against Fighting, but weak to Fire.
She needed to be careful.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Monferno. Mach Punch."
Monferno vanished.
It reappeared in front of Cranidos.
Its fist connected with the Rock-type's jaw.
Cranidos staggered.
"Counter," Patricia said.
Cranidos's body glowed.
It slammed its head into Monferno's chest.
The Fire-type grunted.
It didn't fall.
"Flame Wheel," Flannery said.
Monferno's body erupted with fire.
It rolled forward.
Cranidos took the hit.
It didn't fall.
"Head Smash," Patricia said.
Cranidos charged.
Monferno dodged.
It moved like water—fluid, graceful, impossible to pin down.
"Again," Patricia said.
Cranidos charged.
Monferno dodged again.
"Close Combat," Flannery said.
Monferno's fists ignited.
It unleashed a barrage of blows—punches, kicks, elbow strikes, knee strikes—each one landing with devastating precision.
Cranidos reeled.
It stumbled.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Cranidos is unable to battle," Axel said. "Monferno wins."
---
Patricia recalled her Pokémon.
One left.
She reached for her final ball.
"Floatzel. You're up."
---
Floatzel emerged with a determined roar.
The Water-type was tired—the fight with Quilava had taken a toll—but its eyes were still sharp. Its tails still whipped. It was still standing.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
"Floatzel. Aqua Jet."
Floatzel launched forward.
Monferno sidestepped.
The attack missed.
"Mach Punch," Flannery said.
Monferno's fist connected with Floatzel's ribs.
The Water-type gasped.
"Waterfall," Patricia said.
Floatzel's body erupted with water.
It slammed into Monferno.
The Fire-type staggered.
"Flare Blitz," Flannery said.
Monferno's body ignited.
It launched forward like a meteor.
Floatzel tried to dodge.
Too slow.
The impact sent both Pokémon crashing into the eastern wall.
Dust exploded outward.
When it cleared, both Pokémon were down.
Neither moved.
Axel stepped forward.
He checked Monferno first.
Then Floatzel.
"Both Pokémon are unable to battle," he said. "This match is a draw."
Silence.
Patricia's heart stopped.
A draw.
Not a win.
Not a loss.
A draw.
---
Flannery recalled Monferno.
She looked at Patricia.
"A draw," she said.
Patricia nodded.
"Yeah."
"That's not a win."
"I know."
Flannery was quiet for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"You fought well."
"So did you."
Flannery extended her hand.
Patricia shook it.
"I'll be watching you at the League," Flannery said.
Patricia blinked.
"What?"
Flannery's smile widened.
"A draw against me? That's as good as a win. You're qualified."
Patricia stared.
"I—"
"You've got ten wins. That's the threshold. You're in."
Patricia's hands were shaking.
"I'm in."
"You're in."
---
Axel stepped forward.
"Match concluded," he said. "Patricia Crownleaf moves to thirteen wins and four losses. She is officially qualified for the League."
He looked at her.
"Congratulations."
Patricia nodded.
"Thanks."
She recalled Floatzel and clipped the ball to her belt.
Her hands were still shaking.
She didn't care.
---
Dariana found her outside the stadium.
Patricia was sitting on a crumbling stone wall with her head in her hands. Lopunny was pressed against her side. Magby was curled in her lap. Floatzel and Cranidos were resting in their balls.
Dariana sat down next to her.
"You okay?"
Patricia looked up.
Her eyes were red.
"I'm in," she said.
"I know."
"I'm actually in."
"I know."
Patricia laughed.
It was a shaky, disbelieving sound.
"I thought I was going to lose."
"But you didn't."
"I drew."
"Same thing."
Patricia looked at her.
"Is it?"
"Yeah."
Dariana put her arm around Patricia's shoulders.
"You're going to the League."
Patricia leaned into her.
"Yeah."
"You're going to compete."
"Yeah."
"You're going to win."
Patricia laughed again.
"Don't push it."
---
They sat there for a while.
The sun climbed higher. The city hummed below. The stadium loomed above them, silent and ancient and indifferent.
But Patricia didn't feel indifferent.
She felt alive.
---
Briv and Nicola found them an hour later.
They'd heard the news from Axel. They came bearing food—sandwiches, fruit, a thermos of coffee. They sat on the wall with them. They ate. They talked. They laughed.
And for a moment, everything was perfect.
---
That night, they gathered on the hostel rooftop again.
The stars were out. The city was glowing. The air was warm.
Patricia sat between Briv and Dariana, her head resting on Briv's shoulder. Nicola sat across from them, her expression unreadable but her posture relaxed.
"So," Briv said. "We're all qualified."
"Looks like it," Patricia said.
"Me. You. Nicola. Dariana's close."
"Two more wins," Dariana said.
"You'll get them."
"I know."
Briv raised his glass.
"To the League."
They raised theirs.
"To the League."
---
Later, when the others had gone to bed, Patricia stayed on the rooftop.
She stood at the edge, looking out at the city. The wind ruffled her hair. The stars glittered above. The canals sparkled below.
She thought about the battle.
About Flannery's smile.
About Axel's voice.
About the moment Floatzel had fallen and she'd thought—for one terrible second—that it was over.
But it wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
---
Briv found her an hour later.
He didn't say anything. Just walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
She leaned into him.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"I'm in."
"I know."
"I'm actually in."
"I know."
She turned to face him.
"I love you."
He smiled.
"I love you too."
He kissed her.
She kissed him back.
---
They went downstairs.
The hostel was quiet. The hallway was dark. Their room was warm.
Briv closed the door.
Patricia pushed him against it.
Her mouth found his in the dark. Her hands found his belt.
"Patricia—"
"Shut up."
She kissed him again—harder this time, deeper, her tongue sliding against his.
He groaned.
She smiled.
---
She dropped to her knees.
Her fingers worked his belt, his zipper, his jeans. She pulled them down. His boxers followed.
His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, already hard.
She looked up at him.
"Been thinking about this all day."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She took him in her mouth.
Briv's head fell back against the door.
"Fuck."
She worked him slowly at first—lips sliding down his shaft, tongue swirling around the head, hand gripping the base. Then faster. Deeper. She took him all the way to the back of her throat and swallowed.
"Jesus, Patricia—"
She pulled back.
Spit connected her lips to his cock.
"Shut up," she said again.
She took him again.
---
Briv's hands found her hair.
He didn't pull. Didn't push. Just held on.
She sucked him like she had something to prove. Like the battle wasn't over. Like she was still fighting.
Her tongue traced the vein along the underside of his cock. Her lips tightened around his shaft. Her hand cupped his balls and squeezed gently.
"Fuck, I'm close—"
She pulled back.
"Not yet."
She stood up.
She stripped off her shirt. Her bra. Her jeans. Her underwear.
She stood naked in front of him.
"You want me?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"More than anything."
"Prove it."
---
He lifted her.
Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He carried her to the bed and laid her down.
He kissed her neck. Her collarbone. Her breasts.
She moaned.
"Briv—"
He kissed lower.
Her stomach. Her hips. Her thighs.
She spread her legs.
He looked at her.
"You're beautiful."
"Shut up and eat me out."
He laughed.
Then he did.
---
His tongue found her clit.
She gasped.
He licked her slowly—long, deliberate strokes that made her hips buck against his face. He circled her clit with his tongue. He sucked it gently. He slid two fingers inside her and curled them upward.
"Fuck—"
He worked her like he'd been doing it his whole life.
Her hands gripped the sheets. Her back arched. Her breathing quickened.
"I'm gonna—"
He didn't stop.
She came.
Hard.
Her body convulsed. Her thighs clamped around his head. A moan tore from her throat—raw, animal, uncontrolled.
He kept licking.
She pushed him away.
"Too much—"
He crawled up her body.
His cock pressed against her entrance.
"You ready?"
"Yes."
He pushed inside.
---
She gasped.
He filled her completely—thick and hard and perfect.
He moved slowly at first. Long, deep strokes that made her toes curl.
"Fuck, Briv—"
He kissed her.
She bit his lip.
He went faster.
The bed creaked. The headboard slammed against the wall. Her nails raked down his back.
"Harder—"
He fucked her harder.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.
"I'm gonna come—"
"Me too—"
"Inside—"
He came.
She came.
Together.
---
They collapsed.
He pulled out. Rolled onto his back. She curled against his side.
Neither spoke.
Their breathing slowed.
The city hummed outside.
---
Patricia closed her eyes.
She thought about the battle.
About Flannery.
About Axel.
About the moment Floatzel fell and she thought it was over.
But it wasn't over.
It was just beginning.