Reincarnated Into a Pokémon World and Can See Their Hidden Potential?!

The stands of the Celadon Grand Arena were packed, buzzing with anticipation. The semifinals of the Intermediate Trainer Tournament were about to begin, and all eyes were locked on the screens announcing the first match:

Kira Damos vs. Ritchie Gale.

Ray sat beside his parents and Kira's father in the reserved section. His fingers tapped nervously against his leg while Dragonair lay curled near his feet, eyes closed in meditation. Pidgeotto stood proudly on the railing, feathers pristine, while Charizard—towering and calm—remained seated with a low rumble in his throat.

"She's got this," Ray muttered to himself, his heart pounding harder than during his own matches.

In the preparation wing of the stadium, Kira stood in silence in front of a mirror, dressed in her black-and-teal combat outfit. Her Machoke stood behind her, arms crossed, while Tyrogue practiced slow stretches beside him. On a small bench, her Pokéball containing Riolu gleamed under the lights.

Kira inhaled deeply, raising her arms and bending into her warm-up routine. Her eyes were focused. Her breathing steady. Her mind locked on one goal: win.

Knock knock.

She froze mid-stretch as someone gently knocked on the door.

"…Come in," she said, calling back her Pokémon with a flick of her wrist. The Pokéballs clicked shut, returning to her belt.

The door opened, and to her surprise, Ritchie stood in the doorway. Tall, with a mop of dark blonde hair and soft green eyes, he was wearing his warm-up gear, his signature Pikachu perched on his shoulder.

In his hands—an elegant bouquet of crimson and ivory flowers.

Kira blinked. "What...?"

Ritchie smiled. "Hi. I hope I'm not bothering you before the match."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning slightly, her voice laced with confusion.

"I came to give you these," he said, holding the bouquet forward. "And to say something I've been meaning to say for a while now."

Kira didn't move. Her mind reeled.

"I've been watching you since the tournament began," Ritchie said, voice sincere. "Your style, your presence, your strength... everything about you captured me. I've seen all your battles, and honestly... I'm captivated."

Kira stared at him in disbelief.

"…What?"

"I know this is unexpected," he continued, still smiling. "But I didn't want to keep it to myself. I just wanted you to know how I feel."

Her expression hardened. "Is this supposed to distract me? Throw me off before our match?"

Ritchie's smile faltered only slightly. "No. Not at all. I admire you too much to do something that underhanded. I'll be giving it my all out there—and I hope you do too. I want to prove that I'm someone you can count on."

Kira narrowed her eyes. "You think showing up here with flowers and a confession is going to make me see you as some kind of partner?"

He shrugged gently. "Maybe not now. But someday."

She crossed her arms. "Keep your flowers. I'm not interested."

Ritchie exhaled through his nose and chuckled. "I figured you'd say that. Is it because of him? That childhood friend of yours—Ray?"

Her eyes widened just slightly. A flicker. Barely a second.

But Ritchie caught it.

He smirked.

"You like him, don't you?"

"I—no!" she snapped, turning her face away. A faint redness touched her cheeks.

"Got it," he said with a satisfied nod. "All the more reason for me to prove myself."

Kira turned sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm going to beat you," Ritchie said confidently. "And then I'll beat Ray. When I do, I'll show you both that I'm not just strong enough to stand beside you—I'm the best choice."

He turned, flowers still in hand, and walked out without waiting for a reply.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Kira in stunned silence.

She stood still, staring at the floor, her thoughts tangled in a whirlwind of confusion, irritation, and something deeper—something closer to vulnerability. Ray's image filled her thoughts—his smile, his calm presence, his unwavering support. The way he had always been there without asking anything in return.

"…Idiot," she whispered, the faint flush still clinging to her cheeks.

But she shook her head.

No. This wasn't the time for emotions.This was a battlefield.

Kira turned to the mirror, adjusted her gloves, and looked into her own reflection with fire in her eyes.

"Let's wipe that stupid smirk off his face."