"Yeah, they're all for you. So? Aren't you happy~?"
The girl smiled brightly, playful as ever.
"No. I can't take these," Peter shook his head. "They're way too valuable."
Whitney puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms out of habit.
"I'm the boss here. What I say goes. You have to accept them!"
"And why is that?"
"B-Because… because I spent months preparing all of this!" she shot back, flustered.
"Luxury Balls aren't even sold freely—you can't just buy them whenever you want! Every Saturday, I'd rush over the mont they were available. It took three whole months just to collect six!"
Her voice was fierce, almost petulant—but under the morning light, the faint tear tracks on her slightly baby-soft cheeks were impossible to miss.
Peter's heart jolted.
All the strange things she'd done lately suddenly made sense.
Why Whitney—who hated cooking—had started making als so early.
Why last night's dinner had been so lavish.
Why she always stayed at the departnt store for such a long ti.
"You—"
"What you?" she interrupted. "I worked so hard preparing all this, and soone didn't even say thank you…"
"I an… you cried last night, didn't you?"
Peter reached out, wanting to gently touch her cheek.
Whitney's eyes flickered with panic. She stepped back.
"N-No! That was just from yawning this morning…"
Peter looked at her for a long mont before speaking again, hesitant.
"…How about this—what if we travel together?"
In his past life, he'd never really been in a relationship.
The only one he'd had ended in being scamd—money, feelings, everything.
It made him dull when it ca to emotions.
But the girl in front of him felt different.
Like a spring of clear water in a dried-up desert.
And so, without even realizing it, he invited her.
Whitney's eyes lit up instantly, hope flashing across her face—
But then, slowly, painfully, she shook her head.
"I can't… I'm the Gym Leader of Goldenrod Gym now. I can't just leave. Grandpa… he wanted to carry on the Gym."
Peter fell silent.
He knew better than anyone how important her grandfather was to her.
"Alright," Whitney said quickly, forcing cheer into her voice.
"Listen to —no refusing!"
She grabbed a backpack and shoved it into Peter's arms.
"There are still so things inside. Take your ti looking through them.
DJ Mary asked out today, so I'm heading off!"
"Huh? O-Oh…"
Peter watched her leave, her steps unsteady, his chest feeling unbearably heavy.
He didn't expose her clumsy acting.
The moisture in her eyes.
The smile that never quite reached her lips.
He saw it all.
He wanted to tell her that the Gym didn't matter.
That they could travel together.
That they could chase their dreams side by side.
But he couldn't.
He had no right to ask her to give anything up.
And more than that—
He didn't yet have the strength to make such a promise real.
"…Sigh."
Peter let out a long breath.
The image of that pink-haired girl etched itself even deeper into his heart.
Just as lancholy threatened to swallow him, a familiar electronic chi rang from the backpack.
Soft, cheerful music followed, and then a voice he recognized imdiately.
…
Peter froze.
He pulled a small portable radio player from the side pocket.
"Today, our station received a letter from a mysterious guest," the broadcast said.
"She hopes to share her true feelings with the most important person in her life…"
Peter was about to turn it off—
When Whitney's voice ca through the speaker.
"I'm sorry… for saying goodbye like this."
"Six years ago, on that night we first t, you weren't particularly handso—but you were clean, and gentle.
Even sitting alone in that broken little corner, you made feel strangely safe.
Thank you… for walking ho."
"After that, my terrible sense of direction seed to improve a little.
At least… whenever I got lost, I always rembered that intersection."
"And sohow, every single ti…"
"You were there."
"Three years ago, when I lost the most important person in my life…
It was still you, walking ho while I cried."
"Maybe… from that mont on, you beca the most important person to ."
Peter stood there, stunned.
His emotions shattered, reassembled, shattered again.
Whitney… how could she…
"I know today is your eighteenth birthday," her voice continued softly.
"And also the true beginning of your dream."
"I prepared for this day for a very, very long ti…"
"So please—don't refuse the gifts I gave you, okay?"
"I'm sorry… Maybe the dream we promised each other—I can only fulfill it here, slowly."
"But I hope you'll keep going forward."
"Run hard enough… for both of us."
"And now—go ahead and open the backpack~"
Her voice faded away.
DJ Mary's voice took over the broadcast, bright and professional.
"Next up, we'll be playing a song specially requested by our guest—
Pokémon The (Gotta Catch 'Em All!)!"
♪ Pokémon, gotta catch 'em all… ♪
The lody that moved Peter more than any other filled the room.
She rembered.
This was his favorite song.
…
Peter opened the backpack.
Right on top was a letter.
Hey, idiot Peter.
If you're reading this, then you already know my decision…
Because of Grandpa—and because of you—I've lived happily for so many years.
I think it's ti I was satisfied.
From here on out, I want to rely on my own strength to fulfill both your dream and Grandpa's.
You never told what Pokémon you liked (so stingy!),
so I prepared a flight ticket for you instead.
You can use it to travel to other regions and find the Pokémon you truly want.
Pretty great, right?
To make sure a rookie like you doesn't ss things up,
I also put Grandpa's Miltank in the bag.
After spending so long together, it should help you find the perfect first partner~
Oh—and I also prepared jackets for all four seasons… and the clothes underneath too.
I took the liberty myself!
Your old clothes are way too small.
Don't embarrass , Miss Whitney, by wearing those rags out there!
Finally—have a safe journey!
(And don't you dare co back until you're a Master! Hmph!)
—Whitney
Peter said nothing.
He'd imagined countless ways this farewell could happen—
But never this one.
Joy.
Gratitude.
Heartache.
Longing.
All of it collided violently in his chest.
Inside the backpack was a universal flight pass from Pokémon Airlines—
allowing unlimited flights to any region within a set period.
There were also multiple sets of clothes, for every season, all made from durable materials, styled exactly the way Peter liked.
And tucked into the corner—
A worn Poké Ball.
Grandpa's Miltank.
Peter quietly stored everything into his system inventory.
The room felt emptier than before.
So did his heart.
Thinking of Whitney's smiling face, he took out his phone—
And made the call.
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