“I was fine by myself.”

Well, he didn’t look fine. Scratches on his cheeks and arms from stray attacks, bruised and with a black eye, your rival looked like he was on the verge of losing that battle with those Rocket grunts, had you not stepped in. They’d been sent to capture him, bring him back to his father. Or you assumed Giovanni was his father. He never told you outright, but context clues…

“Always gotta play the hero, huh?”

He got up and scowled at you, though it was a weak scowl, with slightly trembling lips pressed together as he clenched his jaw. Not waiting for an answer, he turned away and kneeled down, putting his bag down and fishing out some revives for his fainted Pokémon. Red hair fell in his face, covering his eyes as he angled his back to block your view.

“I hate you,” he muttered, and it sounded more like a whiny toddler.