The Pantheon

The Wallace Cup - Part II

This chapter has a lot of appeals you might recognize from the anime, and that was very much on purpose. The Wallace Cup includes some of my favorite Pokémon episodes, and they’ve stuck with me over the years. I wanted to lean into that inspiration and have a little fun with it, so if something feels familiar, that’s why.

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Dawn had been awake since before sunrise, pacing the small kitchen in Twinleaf Town while her mother pretended not to notice. She had checked her bag three times, counted her tickets twice, and still felt like she had forgotten something important. That feeling had followed her all the way to Lake Valor, buzzing beneath her skin in a way that made sitting still impossible.

Now she stood in the crowd, popcorn cradled in both hands, barely aware of the warmth seeping through the container.

She had seen Ashley Ketchum before. Her mom had surprised her last year with tickets to the Kanto Grand Festival, and Dawn still remembered how her hands had shaken when Ashley stepped onto the stage back then. This time, they had not crossed regions to see her live. Lake Valor sat practically in their backyard; Twinleaf Town was a short teleportation away.

Around her, the stands were a riot of color.

Scarves, jackets, ribbons, handmade signs. Fans wore pins shaped like badges and bows. Some had painted clouds across their cheeks. Others carried banners stitched with names in glittering thread. Dawn turned slowly, taking it all in, eyes darting from group to group.

There were Damien fans everywhere. His name appeared in bold lettering, sharp lines and confident colors. Ashley’s fans stood out just as clearly, many dressed in layered purple, reds, and pinks, some carrying small weather charms that chimed when they moved. Dawn spotted more than one jacket with Weather Mistress stitched across the back.

They were all expecting a re-match. A repeat of the Kanto Grand Festival final.

Dawn shifted her grip on the popcorn, heart thudding harder at the thought. She had watched that final more times than she would admit, replaying it late at night, studying transitions and timing until her eyes burned.

This time, Dawn was sure.

Ashley was going to win.

She leaned forward slightly, craning her neck as movement rippled through the lower sections of the stands. The opening announcements had not started yet, but anticipation was rising. People adjusted their seats, stood on tiptoes, and nudged friends with sharp whispers that dissolved into excited laughter.

Dawn barely noticed.

Her attention snagged on a cluster of fans two rows down. Dante’s supporters, if she had to guess, dressed in darker tones with sharp accents. One of them wore an outfit styled after the play Gengar of the Opera, which Dante had once referenced in an appeal. The fabric shimmered faintly under the lights, exaggerated collar framing his face in dramatic flair.

“That’s amazing,” Dawn muttered, grinning emphatically.

Dawn spotted a couple of Harry fans too, but they were distributed around the crowd. It was harder to find them when the other coordinators’ fans were grouped in large numbers.

It made her chest ache in the best way, this was why she loved contests.

She looked down at her popcorn and realized she had eaten almost none of it. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted a handful, then paused, distracted again by a swell of sound from the far end of the arena.

Her pulse picked up.

Dawn lowered the popcorn, eyes locked forward now, breath shallow with anticipation. Somewhere beyond the stage curtains, coordinators were preparing, adjusting costumes, reviewing plans, centering themselves.