"Logan, come, let me introduce you to someone…"
Professor Oak, ever mindful of keeping the atmosphere smooth, quickly stepped in to break the subtle tension. He pulled Logan closer with a genial smile.
"This is Professor Rowan, my senior back when I studied at Rainbow University. He's come all the way from Sinnoh to deliver his research on the Pokémon of that region. Once we finish recording the data, your Pokédexes will be updated with the latest generation—and yes, the design you've been complaining about has been upgraded too."
Oak chuckled lightly, slipping in a little joke as he made the introduction.
"An honor, Professor Rowan. Your name carries great weight even outside Sinnoh," Logan said politely, his tone carrying genuine respect. Even as Champion, he understood what it meant to stand before one of the world's most celebrated scholars.
"You're younger than I expected for the Champion of Kanto," Rowan replied with a deep laugh. His sharp gaze then shifted to the blonde standing nearby. "And over there… I never thought I'd meet the Champion of Sinnoh here, either."
"My grandmother has spoken of you often, Professor Rowan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Cynthia stepped forward gracefully, her soft voice carrying just the right weight of warmth and dignity.
Rowan smiled, amused. "I've met your grandmother on more than a few occasions. She never stops praising her granddaughter."
Cynthia gave a small, knowing laugh. "That doesn't sound like her at all. If anything, she's always telling others how her granddaughter falls short—how I should be working harder here or there."
Her wry smile drew quiet laughter from the group. Rowan joined in heartily, his booming laugh cutting through the lingering stiffness in the air.
"And now," Rowan continued, "let me introduce you to my assistant, Mr. Bellerich, his wife, and their daughter…"
But here, Rowan faltered. It dawned on him—he had never actually been told the girl's name.
The young lady, prim and poised, lifted her chin slightly. "Servants are not permitted to know my name—mmph!"
Before she could finish, her father Bellerich clapped a hand firmly over her mouth, forcing her haughty words into muffled nonsense.
The entire gathering froze. For a heartbeat, the silence was absolute. Two regional Champions, a world-renowned professor, a Gym Leader, and even Professor Oak himself—all staring at this aristocratic child who had just implied their worth was beneath her name.
Rowan's face went rigid with embarrassment. Bellerich broke into a cold sweat, bowing repeatedly.
"My deepest apologies! My daughter has been raised at home, without contact with the outside world. Her education has been purely theoretical, without experience in etiquette. She spoke without understanding the weight of her words. Please, forgive her—she meant no offense."
He was trembling as he spoke. Bellerich understood well—offend these people, and even the name of his noble family wouldn't shield him from disaster.
The girl blinked in confusion, still muffled by her father's hand. These were the very words her tutor had drilled into her: "A lady of the house never gives her name lightly. Servants do not deserve it." She had followed her lessons to the letter—so why was her father apologizing?
When Bellerich finally released her, she straightened, bowed deeply like her father, and spoke with unexpected grace.
"My name is Plantina Bellerich. If my words or actions have caused offense, I beg your pardon."
Despite her youth, her poise was undeniable. Cool, elegant, intelligent—a young lady shaped by books and tradition, though untouched by life's rougher edges.
Fortunately, none of the group held her misstep against her. Oak chuckled softly and waved it aside. Erika hid her laugh behind her hand, while Cynthia's response was gentle:
"It's quite all right. In fact, seeing you reminded me of a dear friend of mine."
"Ah—you must mean Caitlin, don't you?" Logan interjected with a knowing grin. "Now that you mention it, Plantina does have her air. But Caitlin isn't nearly as calm and graceful as this young lady. No, Caitlin would never apologize—her pride as a noble is far too sharp for that."
A few knowing laughs rippled through the group. Logan himself had a sudden realization—nearly all the girls he had crossed paths with could be called "ladies" in their own ways. Caitlin, with her temperamental pride. Erika, with her soft-spoken sharpness. Sabrina, aloof and enigmatic. Misty, despite her fiery nature, still the daughter of a well-off family. And now Plantina—elegant, aloof, raised in refinement yet unworldly.
Cold, graceful, intellectual, quietly proud, socially unseasoned—Plantina was the very picture of a "textbook noble daughter."
The tension at the airport dissolved again, conversation flowing more naturally. Amidst it all, Erika stole a sidelong step closer to Cynthia, her voice lowered to a blade-thin whisper.
"Miss Cynthia… what exactly is your relationship with Logan?"
Her lips barely moved, her polite smile unwavering, her eyes fixed on the group ahead as though nothing unusual was being said.
Cynthia, equally composed, blinked once in surprise. The directness of the question caught her off guard. But after the briefest pause, she shook her head with a soft laugh.
"There is no such relationship. We've only known each other a few weeks, nothing more than friends. You've read too much into it."
Her denial was light, almost playful.
Erika exhaled softly, relief flickering across her features. "Ah, then I can rest easy. If a woman as extraordinary as Miss Cynthia were a rival for his heart… I fear I'd lose sleep from worry."
Her words were frank, yet flattering, delivered with disarming elegance.
Normally, Cynthia might have let such an exchange end politely. But something—perhaps mischief, perhaps something deeper she refused to name—stirred in her. She leaned in, her voice smooth as velvet.
"You should know… Caitlin is also fond of Logan. In fact, I came to Kanto at her request. She went to great lengths to capture a Deino, just so I could deliver it to him as a gift to celebrate his becoming Champion."
"Caitlin…" Erika's brows knit together. She recalled how quickly Logan had spoken of her earlier, without hesitation, without pause. That speed spoke of familiarity, of intimacy. This unseen woman etched herself into Erika's thoughts at once.
"And what kind of person is this Caitlin?" Erika pressed, her tone light but her eyes sharper now.
"I'm afraid I can't say," Cynthia replied with a gentle shake of her head. "She is my closest friend. Out of loyalty, I can't disclose her private matters to another."
It was an elegant refusal, leaving Erika with no room to pry further.
Inwardly, Cynthia told herself this was loyalty to her friend, a defense of Caitlin's chances. But a whisper deep inside asked why she had raised Caitlin's name at all, why she had let slip such a confession. She did not dare look too closely at the answer.
Both women smiled serenely, their gazes never wavering from Logan and Oak, their whispered words unheard by the others. Only Yellow, the youngest among them, picked up their conversation fully. She glanced up at her "two big sisters," her face scrunching with quiet frustration at the invisible sparks between them.
Just then, the steady drone of wings filled the air. Another Pokémon descended through the clouds—its wings blazing like embers.
"Someone else?" Logan's eyes narrowed as he looked up. "That Pokémon… it's unfamiliar."
Oak's voice rang with recognition: "That's a Volcarona—from Unova! Rare indeed to see one here."
"And the rider…" Cynthia's tone cooled, her golden eyes sharpening. "That's Alder, the Champion of Unova. What is he doing in Kanto?"
Her words carried no warmth—only distaste.
Logan arched a brow, intrigued. For Cynthia, of all people, to let her disapproval show… this Alder must truly be someone worth noting.
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