On a pleasantly idle holiday afternoon, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading a warm golden sheen across the mirror-bright floor.
The vibration of his phone pulled Kudo Shiba out of his light nap. On the screen, the name "Takai Yuko" flashed.
"Shiba, come with me to the battle club!"
The call had barely connected when the girl's clear, slightly coquettish voice came through.
"Didn't your Aerodactyl just get revived? Let's go find it a sparring partner and see how it feels in a real battle!"
"Sure."
The corners of Shiba's lips lifted. His answer was crisp and decisive.
Half an hour later, the two of them were standing side by side in front of a grand, futuristic building. The silvery-gray metal façade reflected a cold gleam in the sun, and above it, six sweeping gold characters spelled out "Glory Battle Club," announcing the extraordinary status of this place.
This was Magic City's largest, and universally acknowledged top-tier, Trainer sanctuary.
The automatic doors slid open without a sound. A rush of chilled air carrying a faint mix of disinfectant and expensive perfume washed over them. Inside, the space opened up dramatically. The ceiling soared overhead, crystal chandeliers spilling soft light down onto the polished obsidian floor. Huge holographic screens hung along the walls, cycling through spectacular battle footage; the dazzling move effects kept drawing awed murmurs from onlookers.
Every Trainer coming and going was impeccably dressed and carried themselves with an air of practiced composure and confidence that belonged to people long used to standing above others.
Ignoring the subtle assessing looks around them, Shiba led Yuko straight to the front desk.
"Two top-tier membership cards."
His voice was calm, but it carried a quiet, unquestionable authority.
Behind the counter, a receptionist with perfect makeup and a professional smile let her gaze pass over their overly young faces. Beneath that standard smile, there was a faint, almost imperceptible hint of condescension.
She was just opening her mouth to give the usual explanation—that a top-tier membership's annual fee was enough to buy a luxury sports car—when a long-fingered hand lightly pushed a card in front of her.
It was a pitch-black card, with no decoration except a small, understated gold emblem in the lower right corner.
The receptionist's pupils shrank.
A Black-Gold Card!
This wasn't a credit card issued by any bank, but an identity credential officially certified by the Pokémon League—only granted to those who had made major contributions to the League, or to top families with terrifying wealth.
Her breath caught for a moment. Her previously straight back unconsciously bent a little, and the standardized smile on her face melted into one of sincere, almost humble respect.
"Understood. Please wait just a moment, I'll process everything right away."
Her voice was suddenly sweeter by several degrees, and her hands moved so efficiently it was almost dizzying to watch.
This dramatic little scene naturally did not escape the notice of those ever-attentive to the flow of events around them. Whispered conversations rustled through the corners of the hall like a breeze.
"Was that… a League Black-Gold Card?"
"Who are those two? I don't recognize them at all."
"If they can whip out a card like that, whatever family is backing them is way out of our league."
Before long, two membership cards that glittered like cut diamonds were presented to Shiba with both hands.
This very public display of casual extravagance made Shiba and Yuko the invisible center of attention in the entire lobby.
Shiba didn't care in the slightest. He'd come here with only one goal.
To find a suitably hefty appetizer for Aerodactyl.
They crossed the lavish lobby and entered the segmented battle zone. As Shiba studied the fields where different Pokémon were fighting, mentally filtering potential first opponents for his ancient sky overlord, a slightly frivolous voice oozed into the air beside them.
"Hey there, beautiful. Here by yourself?"
Shiba's brows twitched almost imperceptibly.
He turned to see a young man standing beside Yuko. The guy's hair had been plastered into place with copious hair gel, gleaming under the lights; the logo-covered designer streetwear he wore looked like he was trying much too hard.
Right now, his eyes were roaming shamelessly up and down Yuko's body. The greed and possessiveness in his gaze were so thick they were practically spilling over. He treated Shiba at her side as if he were invisible.
"Interested in a friendly match with me? Name's Juichi, I'm one of this club's star trainees. I specialize in Flying-types, you know."
He flicked his hair in what he clearly thought was a suave gesture and flashed a row of white teeth.
Yuko's fine brows knit together. The faint smile that had rested on her pretty face vanished instantly, and a trace of undisguised disgust flashed in her eyes.
She didn't even bother to give him another look. Instead, she moved a little closer to Shiba, her tone turning ice-cold.
"Not interested."
"And I'm not alone."
The clean, decisive refusal landed like an invisible slap across Juichi's face.
His smile froze.
Shot down so ruthlessly in public, a hot surge of shame and annoyance rushed to his head. His gaze finally moved off Yuko and onto Shiba.
When he got a good look at Shiba's face—handsomer than his by more than a notch—whatever irritation he'd felt fermented in an instant into thick jealousy and resentment.
Why?
Why did this guy get a girl like that?
"Kid, you her boyfriend or what?"
Juichi's tone turned shrill and barbed with provocation.
"Look at you—fresh meat, right? Probably just signed up and now you're strutting around flashing your card?"
He twisted Shiba's calm into the arrogance and ignorance of a rookie.
"Got the guts to face me in a Flying-type Glory Match?"
His voice suddenly rose, making sure everyone nearby could hear.
"If you lose, you stay away from this beauty. Don't get in the way."
In his own mind, Juichi was a standout among the younger generation of Flying-type specialists, with almost no equals in this club. He was certain that this newcomer, who looked like he'd barely started his journey, wouldn't dare accept.
He wanted to crush this guy in front of everyone, grind his dignity into the dirt, and show that icy beauty who the real top dog was.
Shiba hadn't intended to waste time on this kind of clown.
But the way Juichi had looked at Yuko, and especially that line—"stay away from her"—hit his bottom line.
He lowered his gaze slightly and glanced at one of the Poké Balls at his waist.
He could feel it trembling, ever so slightly. A wild, brutal fighting spirit seeped out from within, yearning for a fierce, all-out battle.
The roar of an ancient sky tyrant.
The corners of Shiba's mouth slowly curled into a cold arc.
Since someone was so eager to bring himself over as a punching bag for Aerodactyl's debut—
He saw no reason not to oblige.
"Sure."
(End of Chapter)
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