Santalune’s Pokémon Center gleamed with that same clinical-but-welcoming glow as Rhea stepped into the comm room tucked near the back. The small, booth-sized space was lined with privacy panels and a holographic interface blinking softly on the table.

  Froakie stood next to her with arms folded, unimpressed by the tech.

  Rhea booted up the call interface, her registered League ID fshing on screen.

  “Connecting: Home—Vaniville Town…”

  The line pulsed. Then it chimed.

  Her mother’s face filled the screen a moment ter, blinking in soft surprise.

  “Rhea?”

  “Hey, Mom,” she said, suppressing the grin that threatened to break through.

  Her mother’s expression softened instantly, relief fshing across her features. “You made it to Santalune.”

  “Yesterday.”

  “You look thinner.”

  “Still eating.”

  Her mother shook her head with a small smile. “You’re just like your dad—forget meals when you’re focused.”

  “Speaking of,” Rhea said, shifting slightly so Froakie came into view, “someone wants to say hi.”

  Froakie waved once, cool and reserved as ever.

  Her mother ughed. “So that’s the famous Froakie. He looks sharp. How’s he treating you?”

  “Like a partner,” Rhea said. “It took some trial and error, but we’re syncing up now.”

  “That’s good,” her mother said, then narrowed her eyes. “What’s that behind you?”

  Rhea turned—too slow to block the figure now leaning into frame.

  “Hi! I’m Benoit!” he said brightly, waving with both hands.

  Her mother blinked once.

  Then again.

  Rhea sighed. “That’s my travel companion.”

  “Companion?” her mother echoed.

  Benoit stepped forward, offering a big, sheepish grin. “We met in Aquacorde. I uh… I may have followed her into Santalune Forest and got attacked by Caterpie, but in my defense, she has good aim and very sharp scissors.”

  Rhea rubbed her temples. “We’ve been traveling together. I’m coaching him through some League basics.”

  Her mother’s expression didn’t budge.

  She scanned Benoit up and down in a way that made Froakie visibly tense. It was the look of a Charizard trainer assessing a potential threat—or a weird bug on her living room floor.

  Benoit ughed nervously. “Hahaha, so um… you’re her mom? You look—you look exactly like her. Except, you know, less dirt on your face.”

  Rhea smacked her forehead.

  “I’ve heard stories,” Benoit blurted. “Wait. What’s your name?”

  Her mother straightened slightly. “Sierra.”

  Benoit went pale.

  “Sierra Arden? As in… THE Sierra Arden?”

  Her mother quirked an eyebrow.

  “You were top three in Kalos ten years ago,” Benoit continued, words tumbling over each other. “Charizard main, insane aerial control, dual-style battler with counter-switches so fast people thought you had psychic powers.”

  “I do have excellent instincts,” she said dryly.

  “And you used Mega Evolution before it was even cool!” he gasped. “My cousin used to make me watch your old battle clips. Said you were like battling royalty. I thought she was making half of it up.”

  “Tell your cousin she has excellent taste.”

  Benoit looked between her and Rhea, stunned. “You’re… her daughter?”

  Rhea shrugged. “Grew up with it. Doesn’t feel like a big deal.”

  Her mother smiled faintly. “And yet, here you are. Ready to take on your first Gym.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Rhea said. “I’ve been watching local battles, reviewing Vio’s style.”

  Sierra nodded. “She’s aggressive. Smart. Don’t underestimate her.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I mean it, Rhea,” her mother said seriously. “She won’t treat you like a rookie. Especially not if she senses confidence.”

  Rhea’s gaze didn’t waver. “Good. I want a real fight.”

  There was a pause.

  Then her mother’s voice softened. “I’m proud of you.”

  It caught Rhea a little off guard. Her grip on the console tightened just slightly.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  “Keep me posted. And tell that Fletchling of yours to keep those wings loose. Vio’s Pokémon love using terrain.”

  “Will do.”

  The screen blinked as the call ended.

  Rhea stood in silence for a second.

  Then Benoit muttered, “I was not emotionally prepared to meet your mom today.”

  Later that afternoon, they made their way to the Santalune Gym—not to challenge it yet, but to watch.

  The building stood like a modern cathedral, massive white pilrs holding up a gss roof that let in filtered sunlight. Inside, the air buzzed with nervous energy. Battles took pce in a central arena, while others waited in training zones lining the walls.

  Rhea and Benoit took seats near the edge of the main ptform.

  A battle was in full swing—Vio, the Gym Leader, stood poised with camera slung around her neck, her expression focused but faintly amused. She wore tall boots and a sleeveless jacket, confidence radiating from her like an aura.

  Her opponent—a cocky kid with a confident stance—was sweating buckets.

  “Vivillon,” Vio called. “Use Stun Spore, then redirect with Gust!”

  Her Vivillon—a stunning white-winged butterfly Pokémon—darted in a spiral. Golden powder filled the air, swirling like smoke before the sudden wind smmed it straight into the opposing Spearow, knocking it into a barrel roll.

  The kid tried to recover.

  “Use Peck! Get through it!”

  But the Spearow’s wings were coated in powder, its flight unstable. Vivillon fred out, spun mid-air, and with a fsh of energy, struck the final blow.

  The match ended. Vio offered a hand and a polite smile.

  Rhea watched every move.

  Her mind clicked.

  Vivillon opens with disorientation.Softens control with terrain—wind, powder, blinding sunlight.Forces errors.Then punishes fast.

  She pulled out her notepad.

  Vio Battle Strategy

  Vivillon: Flying/Bug

  Terrain manipution + speed

  Likely partner: Surskit (Water/Bug, may apply slip field via Bubble/Water Sport)

  Likely pattern: control + bait + aerial finisher

  Counter Strategy

  Froakie opens: match speed, resist Water/Bug

  Skye reserved for Vivillon counter—Flying-on-Flying is dangerous, but her dive speed could work

  Focus on disrupting Vivillon’s rhythm

  Conserve stamina, don’t chase—force her to come to you

  She closed her notebook and leaned back.

  “I’ve got her,” she said softly.

  Benoit gnced at her.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m not taking anything for granted,” Rhea replied. “But I’m not guessing either.”

  Her Pokémon weren’t perfect. Froakie could still be unpredictable. Skye was new. But they trusted her—and she trusted the work they’d put in.

  Tomorrow, she’d step into that arena.

  Not as Sierra’s daughter.

  Not as a girl who used to watch this world from behind a screen.

  But as Rhea Arden—Trainer, challenger, and the one calling the shots.