Chapter Text
Gardenia had never felt like she was an extraordinary person, not even when people around her would say so.
“Oh, sweetie, you have so much potential!” Mom's words. The same words she said to all of her kids.
“She’s a natural at floral arrangement, a natural, I'm telling you! At this rate, she'll be taking over the family business for sure!” And there was Ji-chan, heaping praise after praise onto her skills.
Her green thumb, her eye for colours and patterns, and above all, her innate understanding of hanakotoba and how flowers could be manipulated to better suit the desired meaning of any particular arrangement.
The skills that marked her as the family favourite. The skills that Ji-chan had diligently taught her since before she knew how to walk. It only made sense then, that flowers came so easily to her.
Flowers spoke in a language that flowed far easier than Sinnohan Nipponese, and they could be understood with less difficulty than Common. Flowers had no expectations for you, none barring the basic necessities for their care: adequate sunlight, regular water, healthy rich soil, and time.
The only other thing she was good at, if she could say such a thing about herself, was her skill at handling Grass-type Pokémon. They were an extension of plants, another type of living being that relied on the wonders of photosynthesis. Understanding their hearts was of no trouble at all to Gardenia.
Yet, for some reason, people always made it out to be a big deal.
“Will you be a Coordinator one day? Or maybe a Trainer?” her teachers would ask fervently after each of her wins in her Battle Classes.
Budew and Turtwig and Cherubi would squeal with delight, turn to look at her with stars in their eyes, at hopes of growing stronger together, reaching new heights they never could have dreamed of before. But she would shake her head every time, even though her heart would twist painfully as the excitement dimmed from her partner's faces.
No, she wasn't anyone special, at least not with Pokémon—several of her peers were already miles and miles ahead, and she had no hopes of catching up to them in time.
Besides, no matter how well she understood Grass-types and could bring out their full potential, they couldn't beat Fire-types, or Flying-types, or Poison-types, or even Bug-types, for that matter.
She'd tried to hold out against them so many times, do her utmost to not let her partners down, but type advantages meant something. Science couldn't be overthrown by the power of friendship.
That, or she just wasn't talented enough as a Trainer.
Sometimes though, a tiny voice in her head would tell her she could do it, she could get ahead. But it was a big maybe. It would take years more of practice, time that would be better suited to honing her skills in the greenhouse, at the front and the back of her family's florist shop.
And so, Gardenia had no intention of setting out on a journey when she came of age. Maybe get the Gym Badges, take an Air Togekiss up to Snowpoint, take some time in Sinnoh West while her family was making business trips to Veilstone, Sunyshore, Pastoria or Hearthome, but not for long. Never long enough for homesickness to strike at her heart.
Besides, she was happy with her place in life. Amidst the rolling fields of flowers, wreathed in the exotic aromas of plants imported from faraway regions, safely locked away in her family's extensive collection of greenhouses.
No, she could never be a Coordinator or a Trainer. It would be better for her, better for everyone, if she stuck to flowers. Less like a prideful hydrangea with a mind filled with impossible dreams, and more like a modest azalea who knew her place in the world.
Even when her secret heart wanted it more than anything else.
“You ever thought of being a Trainer?” That same old question again, and she would have rolled her eyes and ignored it as she usually did, but it was Aaron who was asking her.
He was younger than her, only by a bit, but he was undeniably the star student at Eterna City's best Trainer School.
Some people said that he was a genius, a prodigy. Gardenia believed them.
“No.”
“Why not?” He tilted his head to the side, and suddenly Gardenia was made aware of just how young he was.
Aaron’s face was delicate, his eyes round and wide and filled with a vibrant sort of energy. He looked like a child, but Gardenia knew he wasn't. He was a teenager too. Younger than her, maybe. But still a teenager.
She shrugged. “It's not for me. That's all there is to it.”
“I've seen you battle. You're very good with Grass-type Pokémon.”
“Anyone could be.”
“Not like you.”
At this, her head snapped up. Their eyes met, melting amber on verdant spring green.
“You know what they call people like us, right? We're not just Trainers; we're specialists.” He put a lot of emphasis on the word 'specialist', like he was trying to make a very specific point.
Gardenia wasn't sure she understood him. “So?”
“You might not feel like you're anything special, but trust me, to others, you are. It's something only you can do. You can be a Trainer and a florist, you know. It's not always just one or the other.”
Gardenia blinked at him, uncomprehendingly.
Both. Could she really be both at the same time?
“I haven't told anyone else yet, but I'm going to become Eterna's Gym Leader when I graduate.” Another remark from Aaron, made entirely out of the blue. He said it like a fact, not a challenge or a declaration, like he already knew his role would be set in stone. Like it was inevitable.
Gardenia was more than a little jealous of his certainty.
Aaron was more than good enough, and it was astonishing just how well he understood the hearts of Bug-type Pokémon, but it had been years—decades, really—since the Eterna Gym had been run by a Bug-type specialist.
But he and Beautifly—his beloved partner—shared something special. So did him and the rest of his Pokémon. If anyone could do it, it was him.
And if Gardenia was truly a specialist, just like Aaron had called her, then maybe he could understand her worries too.
“Doesn’t it bother you that Bug-type Pokémon have so many weaknesses?” she blurted out, wincing at the harshness of her words. Her honesty had always been one of her greatest weaknesses. Ji-chan would always scold her about it after she spoke too bluntly to a customer, enough so that sometimes, she wondered if her parents should have named her Sumire in Nipponese, instead of Natane.
But if Aaron was offended, he didn't let it show.
“You’ll find ways to work around those weaknesses.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Typing isn't everything, and the more you work with your Pokémon, the more you'll get it. You’ll see.”
Gardenia wasn't sure she could “get it”, if ever at all, but something about Aaron’s enthusiasm and his unwavering belief in her abilities that made her want to try harder.
Not just for her own sake, but for her Pokémon too. Because they loved to battle more than anything in the entire world, shining more brightly than any floral arrangement when they were standing proudly beneath the battlefield lights.
If Aaron thought she could do it, could really be the Trainer from her deepest dreams—that changed things. And now, Gardenia’s mind was racing with the possibilities.