𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧 ❀ [Leon X F!OC - Hiatus]

𝟎𝟖. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩

━ ✧ ❀ ✧ ━

"Alright, any last questions or comments? At the rate things are going, it's safe to assume that projected energy production numbers will increase."

"....."

"None? Then, let's call the end of this meeting."

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Leon was the first person to stand up when the meeting finished, dipping into a quick bow to please the investors, politicians, and other stuffy officials before turning to leave, his cape suddenly feeling heavier with all of the eyes on it and him. It was already bulky normally, the wool trim itchy and suffocating, and the smattering of sponsor logos made him look like a walking advertisement. At that moment, he felt like Atlas, carrying the entirety of Galar on his shoulders.

"Whew... Glad that's over and done with."

When he first became Champion eleven years ago, Leon had no idea that going forward, he was going to be treated like a business asset. He simply thought that winning meant he was now the strongest Trainer in Galar, and that he would continue to fight even more people beyond its borders. He was naive, thinking his life wouldn't change much...

...But was he really?

Over the years, Leon has heard of fellow Champions from other regions. However, unlike him, their lives aren't controlled by a League council. They don't have to spend every waking hour promoting their region's specific Gym Challenge and shooting sponsored content—and he even heard that one of them is allowed to live a nomadic life, able to go wherever he wants, whenever he wants.

Walls of postered white flashed passed his vision as he made his way down the hallways of the conference building, nodding his head to the people who passed by. The sterile air of business was everywhere, chasing him down and threatening to swallow him up; he had to get out of here.

"Greetings, Champion Leon!"

"Great work with that last photoshoot!"

"You're always doing your best for Galar, Champion Leon! Keep it up!"

"See you next week for that commercial shooting!"

"Can't wait to see your next exhibition match, Champion Leon!"

"I heard you managed to score a sponsorship with that one fancy clothing brand...?"

Make no mistake—Leon was happy to be the Champion. That fateful Championship battle eleven years ago that flipped his ten year old self's life upside down and changed it forever—he did not regret winning it, not now, not ever. His only wish is that he wasn't the Champion of Galar; his life would be much different then, he was sure.

However, as he stepped foot outside the building, the beauty of the region filled his vision.

No...

Flying Taxis dotted a sky as clear and blue as those wellsprings they speak of in fantasy novels, the steely crows of the Corviknight transporting them mingling with the sounds of traffic and conversation down below. The wide, red-earthen pathways of Wyndon snaked under his feet, connecting him to landmarks and people, large billboards flashing advertisements as happy customers trailed down the winding streets in flashy fashions and hairstyles. Leon closed his eyes; concentrating, he could smell the faint scent of cream and coffee from the café a block down.

No.

Galar wasn't the problem—this region was his home, and he loved every bit of it.

"It's them..."