Gotta Read 'em All! - Tournaments

Paradise

Music blares within the bar as hordes of people prepare for what is to come. They crowd around the televisions attached to the walls, every single screen reflecting the same image. People periodically glance at the screens in hope that the numbers on it might change to their favor. All they need is a simple majority, and the results were getting painfully close to their desires.

The crowd of people cheers as the small number next to the word yes ticks upwards. Above the percentages, a man in a suit talks to a co-host at their glass table. Their mouth move, but nobody in the room hears them over the other conversation.

From a corner in the back, a short woman readjusts her position on a sofa. She allows herself to cross her legs as she attempts to convey confidence to all those who may glance at her. She knows everyone in the room is relying on her. Her displaying weakness is not an option. No matter how she feels, her emotions cannot be allowed reflect on her face.

Her eyes remain glued to the television in front of her. She has a special seat as the leader of her campaign, for better or worse. If it were up to her, she'd be out at the polling stations. After all, she's a normal person as well.

Fervent supporters cheer around her as they watch the referendum results come in, yet her dark eyes remain unreadable. Oh, what those brown eyes have come to see in her decade of attempted revolution.

"Tradition or progress?" she says to no individual in particular.

"Sorry, what?" a younger woman asks as her innocent eyes observe the brunette she sits next to.

"This simple question has plagued humanity for its entire existence, Sia. Does society continue what has been working for decades, or does it choose to adapt to modern times?" the brunette says as her fingers fidget with her blue blazer.

Blue.

It gives off a sense of calm she can never manage on her own. Blue reminds everyone she gives a speech to of the bright and vast ocean surrounding their islands.

Blue. The color that reminds her of childhood.

It reminds her of playing at the beach on the few days of vacation her mother could afford a year. The joyful cries of her sister and her playing together resonate in her mind as she remembers the two of them swimming in the water. The memories of the two children digging deep holes into the sand to find young Krabby try their best to live on next to the other memories.

The memories of waking up late at night to find her mother crying.

The memory of herself as a six year old asking her mother why they never bought milk and her mother coming up with an excuse, unable to say they couldn't afford it.

The memories of her mother being unable to support her family despite living in the poorest town on the cheapest island of Alola.

The memories of herself struggling to pay off her college debt she accumulated in hope of a better future.

And the memory of the day Tapu Bulu gave her the chance to change everything.

"Are you really that worried?" Sia says as she pushes back her black hair before she places a hand on the brunette's lap.

"Yes," the woman says with a pained laugh. "People here like their life. They like the calm that island life entails. They're okay with the hand they've been dealt. They think it's a personal failure to be poor, and they're unable to accept they grew up in a system biased against them. They've all been brainwashed into thinking asking for help means they failed in life."

"You need to have more faith in people," Sia lectures, her monolid eyes closing as she holds the tense hand of the woman next to her. "You've gotten this far. You led a grassroots movement you could only dream of years ago."