How to Act as a Pokémon Champion

Chapter 11: Paperwork?!

(Ash’s POV)

A month. That's how long it had been since my surprise teleportation back to Alola, courtesy of Anabel and her overzealous Alakazam. It had been a blur of paperwork, meetings, and the nagging feeling that I was trapped in some bizarre Groundhog Day where battles were replaced by zoning regulations.

"Elite Four selection is critical," droned Professor Kukui during our fourth video conference of the day. "We need trainers representing the diversity of Alola's battle styles…"

"Got it, got it," I muttered, scribbling half-heartedly. Honestly, I trusted Kukui's judgment. Why did we need five-hour meetings about this? I missed the simplicity of a good battle.

"And, of course, Anabel will oversee the Battle Frontier development," Kukui continued. His grin was tinged with… pity?

I glanced at Anabel, seated beside me with an air of regal disinterest. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet during these meetings. Not that I was complaining – her intense stares and possessive comments around any female from Professor Burnet to the delivery girl had set my teeth on edge.

Yet, there was a shift in her last week. The hostility had faded, replaced by a disarming flirtatiousness that left me more baffled than charmed. A well-timed smile, a lingering brush of her hand against mine – was she toying with me?

"Ash," she purred?!, interrupting my train of thought. "Perhaps we should scout locations for the Frontier this afternoon?" Her knee nudged mine under the table, the gesture oddly intimate for a professional setting.

"Uh, sure," I managed, thrown off by the sudden change in tactics.

The potential Frontier sites were spectacular – a volcano rim, a jungle clearing, even a floating platform above the ocean. Yet, all I could focus on was Anabel. Her hand 'accidentally' grazing mine as we pored over a map, her exaggerated laughter at my bad jokes… It was maddening, and strangely fascinating. Was this some kind of power play, or was I just overthinking things?

Evenings brought a different challenge – mentoring Marnie through video calls.

"Lost to my brother again," she grumbled, cheeks flushed. "His Obstagoon messed up Morpeko bad."

"Don't sweat it," I reassured her, "Piers is tough. But remember what we talked about – type advantage isn't everything..." Text alerts from Anabel demanding updates were a constant, irritating distraction.

My phone buzzed yet again.

Anabel: Dinner at my place? Cooked it myself!

I stifled a groan. As if I weren't losing enough sleep over this 'Champion' stuff already. Still, she had been weirdly helpful with the logistics side of things, even if her motivations were suspect.

"Gotta go, Marnie," I said as tactfully as possible. "Keep at it, okay? You'll figure Piers out."

Later, stepping into Anabel's penthouse was like walking into a rom-com nightmare. Candlelight, soft music… The spicy aroma from the kitchen was admittedly tempting, but the glint in her eyes promised a whole different kind of heat.

The month had been an exhausting mess – a never-ending inbox, Anabel's confusing game of flirtation and suspicion, and the lingering guilt of not being able to battle like I yearned to. But, Alola's League framework was finally in place. That meant, soon, I could return to the World Coronation Series.

And with that thought, a flicker of my old fighting spirit returned. Anabel or no Anabel, I was getting back to what I loved most – and no amount of paperwork, or strange infatuation, would stop me.