Roxy

Her name was Roxy, and as far as girlfriends went, she was… unconventional. When she told me we were going on a date, I was hoping for a quiet spot on the beach, maybe malasadas in Hau’oli City. Instead, she picked Po Town.

We walked in, the old abandoned buildings towering over us under the dim light. I spun a Poké Ball lazily on my finger and muttered, “Po Town’s not exactly the most romantic spot for a date.”

“Ayo, what’d you say?” Roxy’s voice cut through the air, firm but not too loud.

“WHA—?!” I nearly dropped the Poké Ball as I spun around. She was perched on top of a busted old fence, grinning down at me like she’d just caught me stealing Rare Candies.

“Yo dork! Did I just catch you talking shit?” she teased, pointing at me.

I exhaled, realizing it was just her being her usual self. “Oh, wait… it’s just you.”

“Just me?!” She hopped down in front of me, hands on her hips, cocky smile shining. “Is that how you say ‘sup’ to your hot-ass girlfriend? You’re not even an ace trainer, so don’t start acting like you’re hot shit! Or else you’re gonna regret it, aight?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. That was Roxy—half threat, half charm. So I sat down with her on an old bench, and she flopped beside me.

She started rambling about the boss, about Guzma and the “weird vibe” in the gang lately, how some of the grunts had been acting shady even by Team Skull standards. Then, after a while, her tone softened. “It’s been a long day, ya know?” she sighed, leaning back and staring at the graffiti-smeared sky.

I nodded, quietly glad to just be there with her, Po Town and all. Because when it came to Roxy, it wasn’t about where we were—it was about her being right there beside me.