"I seethe."

"No surprises there. Remind me why you go easy on the little snots?"

I turned from the mirror to Alma. The Banette picked at her zipper with her little finger like one would at their own teeth.

"Because we're the first. Because they need a first step up." I returned to staring at my aggrieved gaze. "Because no one else will. Because they knew the first would be a laughing stock. Our Time Badge means little. Its worth, devalued in the eyes of those on their road to Greatness. I wonder, will they recognise our grave at the end of the road? Or have the words worn down to nothing? Would they even care to read, if anything of our past survives?"

"We're here." Alma said. "We remember. Marty might wax poetic about how stone never forgets, but stone erodes. It wears away. The Dead don't. We persist. We persevere, even when we shouldn't."

"Aye." It was hard to disagree. Even if it won us battles that we should have lost, we would continue until the bitter end. Now, though...

"Zael?"

The door must have been open. Either that, or the hinges were recently oiled. I glanced at my secretary from the corner of my eye.

"Hello, Rebecca. Is our first challenger for the season here?"

She nodded, unperturbed by my asocial 'rudeness'. We went back a fair few years, so she was used to it. "A Harold Kensington."

"Kensington...? Galarian?"

She shrugged. "Better ask him yourself."

I nodded. "I shall arrive shortly."

As she left, Alma asked what I was going to do.

"Simple." I grabbed a simple, black book, inscribed with nothing but lines upon lines of names. "I'm going to raise Hell."

Rebecca could hear the cackling from the Doll's plush body.

---

"So, you're Mr. Kensington." I said.

The lad - he couldn't have been more than eleven, twelve - smirked at me. "And you're the guy everyone beats? How do you even keep this place?" He waved his arms to indicate my Gym.

"With a tenacity that can exhaust Fire, rust Steel, erode Rock, and melt Ice. A perseverance that stopped far more from reaching the pinnacle than you could ever hope. And for a lack of a better substitute, apparently. See, the ol-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he snapped. "Let's just get this over with." With a lazy flick of his wrist, he flung a basic Pokeball which spewed out a Pidove.

I glared at him for a moment. "Really? Do you not know what Badge I hold?"

"The one I'm gonna get?" he said, exasperation showing how little patience he had.

"It's not just a pretty name. 'Time Badge.' Honestly, it seems no one appreciates time anymore. They all just want to rush into things headfirst, without taking a moment to just... observe."

I threw my own ball into the ring, summoning forth Geb. The Mimikyu took a ready stance with an aura that would give even veterans pause.

Or, in Harold's case, the most chilling tingle down his spine. That face... oh how I missed that look. My A-Team were experienced in more than just battling, and when readying for a fight, one could feel the room cool by several degrees, and when one sets their sights on a target...

Well, that Pidove became damn near a ghost itself. It was still as a statue with eyes that betrayed a deep fear, eyes wide and empty like its mind fled. A peculiar sound emanated from its beak. As for Harold, he was sputtering something, like he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Hope was the old First Gym Leader. After she passed, I was... nominated to take her place. Time, Harold. We have to appreciate what little we have. How quickly it goes. How slow it drags. And I'm going to enjoy every microsecond of this, just as I did back in the Elite Four."

He gaped at me then, turning a corpseish pallor as realization sunk in.

"The Dead will be Remembered. This season, we will take on all comers. And as I inscribe you into my Book, I shall drag you into an unending Hell. Ready yourself, Trainer! Either face your fears, or I will take my price for your silence!

"Now, Gebura! Giga Drain!"