Somehow, you’ve done it. You’ve fought your way through every cursed gym in this region and it has been hell (you have a pen pal in Kanto and you know for a fact this is not something they have to deal with) but you’ve done it.
You ask around about the Elite Four and the champion. The Four, people know about. Not many get past the utterly ridiculous gym challenges, but hey, the Four are celebrities in their own way, and you gather as much intel as you can. You think you’re pretty well prepared for them.
The Champion, on the other hand? No one knows. No one. Turns out there’s no rules saying the champion has to be, well, a public figure of any sort. And this one’s kept to themself pretty well. But you’ve seen it all at this point. It could be a child. It could be your mother. You have no idea. You actually don’t care anymore.
Eight badges in your bag. You march down Victory Road. You’ve put up with so much crap it isn’t hard at all to plow through the Four. You ask each one about the Champion before you leave their rooms, but each in turn shrugs and doesn’t answer.
But here you are. Behind this door is the Trainer you’re going to fight. The Trainer who, like you, has bested everyone before. The cream of the crop. The Trainer who somehow is the leader of this jacked-up mess of a gym system.
You open the door, head high, prepared for whatever insane person you’re going to challenge, and you’re ready.
The Champion is a Pidgey.
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