Charity events had been more and more common in the past few months. All of us knew the rules; stay in the backyard for the people up front to do whatever it was they were doing, and don't scream too loud as to interrupt anything. We did as we were told, and once everything was said and done, the bustle near the front entrance of the orphanage would quiet down and things would go back to normal.

So, when an important-looking man in a suit that was too nice to have originated from our grimy little town silently slipped in through the fence door, everyone was surprised. Not everyone recognized him, of course, but enough of us had seen his openings on the League matches we would watch on the TV for there soon to be a small crowd of children around the man's legs as he laughed in a way that read as surprised. Most of the children shouted, "You're from TV!", as expected, but some of the children more interested in Pokemon training (including myself) shouted, "You're from the Galar League!!" And he was indeed.

The chairman of it, to be exact.

The chairman shushed us all, waving his hands. He chuckled, saying that if he was caught, he'd have to go back to that stuffy meeting up front. (Hard to imagine anything in Spikemuth as 'stuffy', but I digress.) We did as we were told, but we still surrounded him, asking questions all at once with hushed whispers and wide eyes.

He managed to completely silence us with one question and a clap of his hands, hope clear in his voice.

"So, which one of you lot are Pokemon Trainers?"