The battlefield finally settles, a few stray sparks fading into the cracked tiles. Your Pokémon and hers lie fainted in perfect symmetry—again—because apparently the universe loves dramatic irony.

Klara stands across from you, hands on her hips, curls bouncing in an indignant pink halo. She lets out a long, theatrical sigh and gives a smile so sweet it could rot teeth.

“A tie! Can you believe it?” Her voice is chipper, honeyed. “It’s honestly adorable how hard you try.”

She walks toward you with that bouncy, confident stride—boots thudding gently, curls swaying like they’re gossiping behind her back. When she reaches you, she tilts her head and gives you the most saccharine smile imaginable.

“You’re doing so well, rival! Really! I’m proud of you for keeping up with me… kind of.”

Then, without warning, she pokes your chest.

“But let’s not pretend you don’t ruin my chances at a gorgeous victory pose every single time.”

Before you can respond, her hand slides down your arm, fingers wrapping around your wrist like claiming a prize.

“Come along, sweetie,” she says in a singsong voice. “We’re gonna have this chat somewhere private before the dojo gossip mill starts a new rumor.”

She drags you toward the shaded walkway, curls bouncing behind her in lively spirals. When she stops near one of the wooden pillars, she spins on her heel—curls flying outward—then plants her hand on your shoulder, steady and confident.

“There we go,” she chirps. “Much better. Now I can be honest with you without pretending to be inspirational.”

She gives you another too-sweet smile as she brushes dust off your shirt with light, brisk pats.

“You keep matching me move-for-move.”

She pats your shoulder.

“And that’s just so precious.”

She holds onto your shoulder, sharply

“But let’s be real, okay?” She lowers her voice into a sugary whisper.

“I’m better.”

She leans back, flipping a curl with practiced elegance.

“But since the universe refuses to cooperate with my greatness, we’re doing something new!”

She taps your chest twice, smile widening.

“Our next battle has a rule! If you lose—you do whatever I say.” Her tone is bright, cheerful, sweet as a cupcake. “Isn’t that fun?”

She lifts a finger before you can object.

“Ohhh, shh-shh-shh.” She makes a gentle swirling motion near your face. “No input needed, sweetie. This isn’t a discussion. This is a special Klara rule. You’re welcome!”

A curl drops in front of her cheek; she tucks it back with a smug flourish.

“And if—” her voice drips with sugary dread “—we tie again, then fine. Fine! I’ll get you a snack, but only because I’m generous.”

She gives your sleeve a playful tug as she steps past you.

“So, Venus…” She looks over her shoulder with a bright, razor-edged smile. “Be ready. I’m winning next time. And you’ll be doing exactly what I say.”