He doesn't speak. In fact, he hasn't spoken the whole time. But you've seen him walking through the gym.

Two mousey ears poking out of the slits of his hat, and a grin brighter than a happy Ampharos.

What is he doing? His team doesn't even seem to be anything special. A rattata, a geodude, a Hoothoot, and..is that a cyndaquil? One of Elm's chosen no doubt.

How are his pokemon understanding him? Maybe it's the way he's moving his tail. Maybe it's those hand motions he's doing.

You study this for quite some time.  It's not that he's effortlessly beating your trainers, no. It's that he seems to be so in sync with his pokemon, that he doesn't even need to speak.

That Hoothoot isnt' a problem. You've raised bird pokemon your whole life. That's a bird on the cusp of evolution. But it's also something in the way it moves. Beaks can't smile, but if they could, that Hoothoot would be beaming. The hops and flaps match his owners, and they're more than tactical: they're downright celebratory.

Last trainer down. Time to shine.

He walks up with his hat pulled down over his eyes. When he looks up, it's not the grin that you see first. It's his darting eyes. They might not look right at you, but you recognize that gleam. The last time you saw it was when you got to watch Lance, the dragon trainer. Even though his pokemon are low level..you get the feeling this fight might carry the same type of electricty in it, the fight that propels trainers not just towards greatness, but immortality itself.

"Welcome to.." you start your spiel, but break off. "Well. Aren't you going to introduce yourself. Or say..anything?"

He looks straight at you. It's a little startling. An image flashes through your mind. A bracket with sun ray lines coming off of it, and an odd musical glyph in the middle. It's followed by a second, different bracket, more bold. Inside, an exclamation point with a pokeball.

He tosses his pokeball up into the air, and sticks his tongue out in focus.

Time to battle.