“White Out!”

‘Battle me, Gym Leader Whitney!’

The progenitor of the shout did not give his name. A semi‐recent graduate from Goldenrod University, he had moved back home to live with his parents in Violet City during the height of the 2008–2009 financial crisis, unable to find work in or out of his chosen industry. Despite his academic upbringing, he had some skill with pokémon, and he compensated his unemployment with a small measure of success in amateur local brackets, where he performed under the Super Nerd archetype. These early victories gave him the confidence to challenge his local gym, and evidence of his success was now proudly displayed for the whole room to see.

‘I¦m a better trainer than Falkner—and a better man, too!’ he said, his finger proudly pointing to his Zephyr Badge. ‘Battle me, and you¦ll see!’

A great many trainers found their pokémon journeys abruptly ending in precisely this manner: tipsy, at a party in Goldenrod City, drunkenly trying to impress their host in a pokémon battle, and loudly asserting that if they should win, Whitney should consider dumping her gym leader of a boyfriend and maybe, just possibly, go out with them instead. Five years ago, these men would have been snatched up by Silph Co Research & Development, their passions and confidence leveraged in a campaign of selling the impossible to investors. But in the wake of Team Rocket, those receipts had come due, and bravaccious nerds were no longer reserved a place in the world economy. Now it was the League¦s problem to deal with such characters instead.

The battle itself carried few material consequences. It was hardly an official gym match, and nothing prevented Whitney¦s opponents from showing up on her gym doorstep the following morning with a proper challenge. Nevertheless, it was her experience that very few men could bring themselves to do so—not following their inevitable humiliation on this stage. No, they would turn tail and retreat back home, pride ruined; the would post angrily about their experience on the internet; and they would withdraw back into those amateur scenes which had made them feel so powerful before. Never would they obtain a full set of gym badges, and the League would be spared yet another chauvinist among its ranks.

It was for this reason that Whitney, sober, accepted, rising to her feet amidst the oohs of the girls she was sitting with. The battles were easy for her, hardly qualifying as training; and considering that they happened outside the constraints of the gym circuit, nothing prevented her from demonstrating full martial prowess. As she sized up her opponent, her hand gravitated to her pokéballs: He was fresh off a Falkner win, and unlikely to be packing an Ice loadout, so Ground would be the most reliable counter for what·ever he sent out. Well—Ground/Normal. Of course.

‘Very well,’ Whitney said, her thumb brushing against the 💞 sticker adorning her selection. ‘Your best pokémon—against one of mine. Standard Indigo League rules. Let¦s see what kind of a man you really are.’

Her mate Victoria drunkenly appointed herself their referee. And then they all—Whitney, her friends, this man, his—shuffled off to the pitch.

It was just across the street.

‘Friends, rivals, and innocent bystanders! We now commence a battle between Gym Leader Whitney and some poor Super Nerd who is definitely about to lose!’ Victoria was fully leaning into her role as the announcer, and despite the inevitable onesidedness of the coming match, there had already accumulated a small crowd. None of them veterans, aside from Whitney¦s own crew, but there would always be those willing to watch their local Gym Leader win a match—or to root for her to lose. ‘Each trainer will be allowed a single pokémon with no substitutions. The stakes are: Super Nerd¦s pride against Whitney¦s heart! (Per League rules, pokémon will be released on three, and the battle will commence on my mark.) Super Nerd, any last words?’

‘I¦m stronger than you think i am,’ the Super Nerd said. ‘I won¦t hold back!’

The count reached three, and the pokémon were released onto the field.

If Whitney was to be entirely honest, it wasn¦t really sporting to send out an Ursaluna. While they were permissible in Indigo League battles, it was almost by technicality: Obtaining one, after all, required not only raising an Ursaring (already a tall order for most trainers), but then spending a night with it, under a full moon, in the poorly‐blazed peatlands between Johto Routes 30 and 46. Whitney had reached out to Falkner to guide her, shortly after becoming a gym leader—his native Violet City was the nearest substantial settlement, and he knew the area from the skies. Actually traversing the wetlands on foot, spending the deepest hours of the night together under a Clefairy moon, bearing witness to an evolution and a pokémon that neither had ever seen outside of picturebooks, and returning, exhausted and muddy, to the Violet City pokémon centre… They¦d had bad sex after their showers, and good sex after waking up at noon the following day. Their relationship was official within a week.

So, there was a certain poetic justice to her selection of Ursury for this battle. Now, it was time for this Super Nerd to have his life changed by a pokémon the likes of which he had ne¦er seen before.

He sent out a Magneton—certainly fitting for his trainer class, and the selection of somebody who played to get lucky. It struck first, taking the predictable gamble: Tri Attack, looking for a status condition early in the match. Not a bad strategy, and likely his only hope of pulling out a win: Whitney, who also had a gamblers heart, gave a slight smile at this turn of events. But the fates did not smile on the Super Nerd; the blast glanced off of Whitney¦s pokémon, and it was left looking none the worse for the wear.

It was a shame, honestly, that this match would be a blow·out: At this level of play, Whitney didn¦t need luck to win.

Her response came swiftly: Mud Slap. It was far from the most damaging Ground‐type move, but as she fully expected this Magneton to be Sturdy, there was no sense gunning for a one‐hit k·o. The double type‐advantage was damaging enough and it applied immediate pressure. Were it Whitney on the other side of the field, she would have held steady: Roll the dice again with another Tri Attack, hope for a freeze or paralysis, and then milk it for all it was worth. But they both knew that Magneton was only one good hit away from a knockout at this point, and this Super Nerd didn¦t have the courage.

Magneton fell back into recess, ending the bout. The Super Nerd signaled his orders, and Whitney her own. When play resumed, Ursury charged—Magneton¦s Magnet Bomb bouncing harmlessly off of its Bulletproof coat—and, one Hammer Arm later, the battle was called.

Whitney recalled her pokémon and approached her defeated opponent.

‘What kind of a pokémon was that?!’ he angrily shouted. ‘What was it, you didn¦t think you could win, so you sent out a legendary or something? What a bitch!’

Whitney couldn¦t help smiling, despite her attempts to stay cool. ‘If i were to beat Falkner in battle, he would be impressed, not angry,’ she replied. ‘This is because he respects me as an opponent. Given your reaction, it¦s clear that you don¦t. You have a long way to go before you are on his level—as a man, or as a trainer.’

It was a nice speech that undoubtedly would not be remembered. ‘I don¦t need your fucking analysis,’ the Super Nerd replied, storming off to—hopefully—go heal up his pokémon. Whitney sighed, Victoria gave her two big thumbs up, and the partying resumed indoors.

It was true that Whitney¦s pokémon career had been shorter than most; thru it all, three women had remained by her side. Allie, Samantha, and Victoria had been her mates in high school, kept in touch when she transferred to a battle academy, challenged her frequently on her rise to stardom, and been the first to join her gym when first it had opened.

Of the group, Allie had been pokémon training the longest—altho her first love remained track and field. During the offseason, she had taken to training for the Pokéathlon, and the girls had become enamoured with her Togepi and Happiny when she first brought them home. Victoria was the next to fall, wanting a pokémon for protection as she escalated her involvement in the burgeoning Goldenrod bitpop scene. Samantha dated a wannabe professional trainer and caught the bug from him. And, at that point, Whitney¦s induction seemed inevitable.

From the outside, most would say that Whitney towered over the rest: She was, after all, the prettiest, the wealthiest, and the most successful. But with·in their small circle, she was ever the baby: The latest birthday, the last to pokémon, the first to tears, and—like any good kouhai—ever‐receptive to the others advice. ‘She came out of nowhere, it¦s true;’ Victoria would tell the reporters who stopped by her gym. ‘But she¦s just getting started.’

‘Good showing out there,’ Samantha told her now, once they had all returned to their seats. ‘But, girl, where is your beau at? You know those boys only come bother you because he¦s never around.’

‘Eh, i don¦t really mind,’ Whitney replied, stretching her arms. ‘It’s good to get out for a bit and loosen up.’

Yet Allie protested this response. ‘One would think that he¦d mind, tho,’ she said. ‘Does he know that people come on to you like this?’

Again, Whitney scoffed at the show of concern. ‘Er, probably?’ she said. ‘It happens to all the female gym leaders, Al; it¦s a part of the job.’ As an athlete, Allie knew this herself, more or less. ‘He trusts me to handle it. Falkner has plenty of his own stuff to deal with back in Violet City—which, i might add, is not exactly on the rail line here from Goldenrod.’

‘He trains Flying‐type pokémon, Whitney; that¦s a poor excuse,’ Samantha responded. ‘All i¦m saying is, you two are dating; it wouldn¦t hurt for him to join you in public once in a while.’

‘He likes keeping a low profile,’ Whitney told them. ‘And, you know? I don¦t blame him. It¦s not his fault that two gym leaders can¦t share a room with·out the tabloids getting involved. And it¦s not like i ever do the reverse: Would you rather i were off in Violet City, with him, instead of hanging out here with you all?’

‘We already know you love him,’ Victoria said.

‘And he loves me,’ Whitney asserted. ‘Trust me on this, y¦all.’

The pout on Samantha¦s face indicated she wasn¦t satisfied with these assurances. Her frown deepened, she took a long drink, and she sighed. ‘Look, i wasn¦t gonna tell you this…’ she began.

Whitney let out an exaggerated breath and rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, Big Sis. What has you worried this time?’ Of the four of them, Samantha had the most dating experience; consequently, she was also the most jaded about love. Often, when she had concerns, she was jumping at ghosts—but not always.

‘So, last Monday, i was in Celadon City—just for reasons, you know,’ Samantha began. ‘But while i was there, i stopped by the department store, and there was that new Kanto gym leader—not Blue, the previous one; Koga¦s kid…?’

‘Janine,’ Whitney supplied.

‘Janine, yea. And Falkner was there too, and i saw the two of them really going at it, like talking really passionately about something, not just “howdedo” or what·ever—’

‘Falkner is not cheating on me with Janine,’ Whitney laughed. ‘Even if i didn¦t trust him, Janine is a good girl; she wouldn¦t do something like that. I¦m sure they were just talking battle strategies or something—us gym leaders are like that, you know.’

‘Sure,’ Samantha said. ‘Wasn¦t suggesting otherwise. Only—when was the last time i saw you two like that, again? He does know you¦re a gym leader too, right? Aren¦t you worried that maybe—he¦s gotten bored?’

‘I¦m not worried,’ Whitney asserted. ‘But, if it makes you feel any better, i will give him a call. I am certain that he will tell me he still loves me very much, and that he is not thinking of leaving me for a different girl on the other side of the Indigo Plateau.’

It took four rings before her phonecall was answered. ‘Hello?’ Falkner said. His voice alone was enough to make Whitney smile.

‘Hey, sweetie, it¦s been a bit,’ she said. ‘I¦m at a party, but i¦m sober. How are things going? The girls here all say they¦ve missed you; they¦d like you to come out with us sometime.’

‘Mnh,’ Falkner said, noncommitally. ‘I¦ve been busy.’

‘Mhm; Samantha claims she saw you all the way out in Celadon earlier this week. Something you couldn¦t get in Goldenrod?’

‘What¦s it to you?’ Falkner asked, oddly defensive. ‘I was just doing some shopping.’

‘Well, i like seeing you, silly,’ Whitney replied. ‘Not to mention the discount! I can get you a pretty good one, since, you know, my dad owns the store…’

‘Yeah, yeah, we all know about your dad,’ Falkner said. ‘You know, it¦s funny that you bring that up, because while i was in Celadon, i ran into Janine…’

‘…Oh? What did she have to say?’

‘She was picking a fight, mostly. You know how much i look up to my dad, and, well, hers is Koga, so… We were arguing about which is the better trainer.’

‘You two were arguing, huh?’ Whitney asked. While her tone was innocent, she was staring pointedly at Samantha—as if to say i told you so.

‘Well, yeah, it was quite the argument,’ Falkner admitted. ‘But it did make me realize something. Me, Janine, Clair—even Blue, to an extent… We all come from lineages of pokémon trainers. Our fathers, and our fathers fathers… There is a history and tradition to how we battle that stretches back generations, you know?’

‘Sure, i suppose that is true,’ Whitney said. ‘Never really thought about it.’

‘Yeah, i mean…’ Falkner¦s voice trailed off. ‘The thing is, i think i need somebody who can relate to me on that kind of level. Romantically, i mean. I didn¦t want to do this over the phone, but—’

‘Hold on,’ Whitney said, cutting him off. For the first time since the call had started, she turned her back, and she forgot about her audience. ‘You¦re telling me, just because my dad isn¦t some kind of elite trainer, you think i can¦t relate to you about pokémon?! Excuse me?! Our whole relationship has been nothing but pokémon this whole time!’

‘Yeah, well, look,’ Falkner said. ‘When we first met, you were a rising star with an approach to battling that seemed novel and interesting. And, you know, maybe that¦s still true. But my priorities have changed, okay? And you… There just really is no substance to anything you do. It¦s new, sure, but that¦s because has absolutely nothing underpinning it, no tradition. It¦s a cute gimmick that charmed me before i saw it for what it was.’ Falkner sighed. ‘I want to get serious now, Whitney, and i can¦t keep playing around like this. You never will truly understand pokémon battling, and i don¦t think you really understand being a gym leader, either. Not like we do.’

‘That¦s rich,’ Whitney said. How to come up with a response to a man who had just dismissed her character, her battling style, and her gym leadership? ‘That¦s rich,’ she repeated, knowing there was but one rebuttal. ‘Well, if you want to break up with me, it¦s a jerk move, but that¦s your prerogative. But i can¦t accept you criticizing my pokémon team, not with·out a battle. If your “tradition” is so important, then come and demonstrate it for me—unless you think my “gimmick” can stop you? 1·V·1, as soon as possible; let¦s make this quick.’

Seconds passed in silence. Eventually, Falkner responded: ‘…Yeah. Okay, that¦s fair. …Fifteen minutes.’

‘Pitch is warm,’ Whitney spat at him—then she snapped her pokégear closed. She took a deep breath, to compose herself and to blink away her tears. Then she put on a smile and turned back to her mates.

‘Well, he wasn¦t cheating on me with Janine,’ she told them.

︎prettyfeatherwing:︎ i watched a Whitney match yesterday and while she was a bit dramatic, that¦s normal for gym leaders these days. the battling wasn¦t super high‐level or anything, but it was fine. remind me again why everyone hates her so much?

︎justicedelibird:︎ The thing you need to understand about Gym Leader Whitney is that she is the purest embodiment of the concept of manufactured talent. She has stated in interviews that she didn¦t have any interest in pokémon battling until her friends started getting into it in high school. But because her father is the owner of the Goldenrod Department Store, he was able to hire the best breeders and tutors to give her a winning team and strategy with·out an ounce of effort on her part. She tranferred into a private academy for her senior year to better accommodate her tournament schedule, and her dad bought her travel tickets and paid the entrance fees for competitions all across Johto and Kanto.

Even though she wasn¦t particularly skilled as a trainer, her routine presence in tournaments meant she was easily able to rub noses with pokémon greats like Lance and Morty and familiarize herself with their teams. She climbed the ladder fast, and when an opening came up for the Goldenrod Gym, her dad made sure her name was at the top of the list.

Now, the point of this post isn¦t to argue that Whitney has no talent—but it¦s to point out that she has been supported by a veritable army of people at every step in her journey, people that ordinary trainers, whose dads aren¦t filthy rich, never would have had access to. Daddys little girl wanted to be a gym leader and daddy made it happen in 2 years despite her never having touched a pokéball before that. Her quick rise and massive success is nothing like that of hardworking trainers like Red or Kris—kids who actually struggled and fought to achieve their dreams. She treats pokémon like a fad and that¦s why hardcore trainers like myself always hate hearing about her.

︎moomoomood:︎ somebodys salty after losing to her miltank lol

For the next fifteen minutes, Whitney didn¦t have time or thoughts to spare on the fact that she might now be single. The most important battle of her burgeoning tenure as a gym leader was just minutes away, and the only room in her head was for strategy. Her opponent knew more about her than any·one else possibly could—she¦d made most of her team composition decisions lying naked in afterglow, bouncing thoughts off of her Flying‐expert boyfriend and considering his ideas for counters. None of the Normal‐type pokémon legal in Johto could resist Flying‐type moves—Whitney used to joke that she found Falkner “irresistible”—and, conversely, Falkner liked to minimize his own type disadvantages, so it was unlikely he would select a pokémon like Xatu with an increased attack surface. Falkner wasn¦t currently training Skarmory, and Honchkrow¦s Fairy liability was dangerous against a trainer like Whitney, so odds were on him selecting a Normal/Flying type—most probably, his old standard, Pidgeot.

This determination did little to help Whitney—she couldn¦t defend against Pidgeot¦s moveset, so her only hope was to deal damage faster. And, as she considered her options, the phrase cute gimmick just wouldn¦t leave her ears. It wasn¦t just prebattle banter—Falkner hadn¦t been anticipating a battle yet—no, he really did think her strategy had no substance to it. Perhaps he was right: Whitney ought to have been thinking of how to surprise him, how to turn his confidence into a disadvantage. Instead, she was thinking that if she tried something different, instead of leaning into her standard playbook, she would never be able to forgive herself a loss. She would win the match with her “cute gimmick”—or she would go down as the girl who flew too close to the sun.

So, there wasn¦t actually much strategizing to be done, no matter how fiercely she thought about it.

Falkner reached the pitch exactly on schedule, riding his Mega Pidgeot; he dismounted, removed his helmet, and tossed it to the side like the cool hot guy he was. Ordinarily, the move would make Whitney swoon; this time, she saw only the inconsiderate motions of a pretentious prick. As expected, while the Pidgeot reverted back out of mega evolution, Falkner didn¦t recall it—he had selected it as his pokémon.

They would both be using their aces, then. Whitney pre·empted the suspense by releasing her Miltank, and Falkner¦s face bore no sign of surprise. Really, there were no surprises left between them. They both knew exactly what the other was about.

So it wasn¦t long before, as the progenitress of this mess, Samantha gave the signal; the battle began, no theatrics. There was no beating Pidgeot¦s speed, and it opened with Swagger—doing what the Super Nerd could not. Miltank¦s attack power was raised, but it was left confused.

The status condition didn¦t seem to impact Milky much at first. It immediately spun into a Rollout, calling Falkner¦s bet, taking advantage of its boosted attack, and landing super‐effective damage. Falkner had prepared for this, of course. Pidgeot immediately grounded itself with a Roost. Rollout hit home again, its power growing but efficacy cut. Pidgeot rose, and stayed on the defensive: Sand Attack.

Whitney knew: There was no way that Pidgeot could withstand a third hit from Rollout now that it had returned to the air. The battle hinged on whether Miltank could connect with its next move.

But Milky spun out, wildly off target, losing all momentum. It had hurt itself in its confusion—indeed, this was the only damage it had taken thus far. Too late, it finally shook off its status condittion. Meanwhile, Pidgeot used Sand Attack, again. Falkner was making a point.

Falkner was making a point and Whitney hated it. Neither pokémon fell back. Rollout: A miss. The chances of her building up momentum again at this point were next to none—especially when Falkner always had another Roost in his back pocket. Pidgeot finally switched to offence with Return. Her Miltank could keep battling, but there was no path to victory. Whitney¦s vision was blurry: She needed to wipe away tears. Finally, she recalled her pokémon: a forfeit.

If any·one tried to speak with her, she didn¦t hear it. She ran away from the scene, the ground hardly visible in front of her: away from the party, away from the battle, and away from her ex‐boyfriend—who stood, smugly smirking, at the pitch.

‘Miltank and Usraluna?’ the pokémon centre lady asked, receiving Whitney¦s pokéballs. ‘Don¦t you worry; we¦ll get them checked out and back to perfect health. It¦ll only be a moment.’

‘Thanks,’ Whitney sniffled. She was notorious for crying after losses, so the sight of her, red‐eyed and tear‐stricken, in the Goldenrod pokémon centre wasn¦t really a cause for any·one¦s concern. But usually, Whitney bounced back pretty quickly. This time, or so she felt in her gut, would be different.

She glanced around the room as she waited. In one corner, she spotted the Super Nerd from earlier: passed out on a bench, no doubt to wake the next day with a massive hangover. Despite her wretched emotions, she gave a small snort of laughter upon seeing his awkward resting pose.

Then the tears pricked her eyes again, as she wondered if she was any different than him, in the end. Acting all confident after winning an easy battle with type advantage. Trying to win over the object of her desire thru a pokémon challenge. Losing sorely with·out the least bit of grace. Running away to the pokémon centre—to heal her pokémon, yes—but also to hide her shame.

Her own words came back to bite her. If i were to beat Falkner in battle, he would be impressed, not angry, she had said. This is because he respects me as a trainer. But was the reverse ever true? Did Whitney ever actually respect Falkner¦s skill with pokémon training? Was she ever impressed by his victories? Or was she only ever angry, having taken him for granted—as now?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her pokégear.

‘Hey,’ Allie¦s voice rang out on the other end of the line. ‘You alright?’

‘Sorry for abandoning you all,’ Whitney sobbed, her head a puddle of conflicting emotions.

‘Hey, don¦t even worry about it, girl, we¦ve got it handled,’ Allie said. ‘You just take the night off and take care of yourself, okay? Don¦t worry about us or the party or nothing.’

‘Did Falkner leave?’ Whitney asked.

‘He flew off, yea.’

‘I shouldn¦t have run away,’ Whitney said, sniffling. ‘It… wasn¦t very respectful.’

‘Girl, he didn¦t respect you as a person,’ Allie said. ‘So don¦t you worry about that.’

As pondered that sentiment, Whitney saw the pokémon centre lady return with her pokéballs. ‘Okay, gotta go,’ she said. My pokémon are ready.’

‘Okay. You remember what i said. We¦ll talk tomorrow, okay? Love you.’

‘Mmn.’ Whitney walked back to the counter.

‘Here you go,’ the pokémon centre lady said, returning her pokémon. ‘Your Miltank and Ursaluna are fighting fit.’

Caring for pokémon, relationships between trainers, how one wins, how one loses… Difficult as these problems were, as she held her pokéballs in her hands, Whitney got the feeling that they were still only scratching the surface of what it meant to train pokémon. Perhaps, she wasn¦t a very good trainer. Perhaps Falkner was a good trainer, but a bad person. Nevertheless, it felt like they were both still searching for the same answer, to something larger than themselves.

Maybe that was the reason for Falkner¦s newfound insistence on tradition. And, it was true, Whitney couldn¦t provide him with that. But she did have other people she could lean on, and she still had her pokémon. She would move forward from this—and she would do it in her own way.