Not long ago, Natsu, the Gym Leader, issued a notice.
The content was simple: basically, "I'm off to prep for a showdown with a Legendary."
He wouldn't have ti to handle Gym matters for a while, so he was leaving it in the hands of his own Pokémon to hold down the fort.
Letting Pokémon act as substitute Gym Trainers—
It sounded absurd, but in Jadeleaf, it wasn’t unprecedented.
Many high-IQ Pokémon were no less capable than humans; so Psychic-types with telepathy were arguably even better at the job than human Trainers.
In fact, in a certain foreign continent with the motto "You may die, but you must never be idle," there was a Gym perpetually run by an Oranguru.
And setting aside the fact that it was a Pokémon—
Because it was so reliable and competent, it actually stood out like a sore thumb in that land of madness.
So when Natsu made his announcent, after a brief wave of surprise, most people didn’t think too much of it.
After all, Gyms generally have official referees and League staff stationed there year-round. Even if a Pokémon wanted to ss around, there wasn’t much room for chaos.
As for which Pokémon Natsu had sent to sub in, everyone had their guesses.
Either that Slowking who always looked like it was pondering the fate of the universe, or that Gardevoir with the barely-there presence.
And in a way, they were right.
Natsu did send out Slowking.
It’s just—Slowking wasn’t the one acting as Gym Leader.
“Yadon~” *2
The slow, synchronized cry echoed.
On the battlefield, the Slowking with its hands behind its back and the Slowpoke up on the command platform both let out a call at the sa ti.
The sight was... a little comical.
And just a bit cursed.
A Slowpoke directing a Slowking in battle—why was this playing out like one of his nightmares?
Looking at the scene in front of him, the challenger Trainer suddenly felt an imnse pressure descend.
When Natsu had first released the announcent, the Trainer had thought, “Well, since I’m here already...” and chose to go through with the challenge.
Losing wasn’t a big deal anyway. Those Psychic-types were all smart as hell.
It wasn’t like human Trainers being outwitted was anything new.
Losing to a high-IQ monster? Totally understandable.
Whether it was Gardevoir or Slowking, no problem.
But!
No one told him there’d be a damn Slowpoke involved!
If he lost now, he’d be nailed to the pillar of sha for life.
From then on, whenever anyone ntioned him, they’d say: “Oh, that’s the guy who got wrecked by a Slowpoke.”
He might even beco an internet .
“The loser who got beaten by a Slowking... directed by a Slowpoke.”
Everyone would know the Slowpoke didn’t actually do anything—the outco of the battle depended entirely on the Slowking’s performance.
But that wouldn’t stop people from making jokes.
As for how the Trainer himself felt about this?
Does that even matter?
The people making s online certainly didn’t care.
And why was he so sure this battle would blow up online?
Well, just look at the audience.
All those people who’d already whipped out their phones and started recording.
They were filming and typing.
There’s no way they were doing that just to keep the footage for personal enjoynt.
Every video ever taken shares the sa fate: it gets posted, spreads, and is seen by the masses.
No matter what kind of video it is.
“Pelipper, we absolutely cannot lose this match!”
Clenching his fists, the Trainer spoke to his partner.
High in the sky, Pelipper gave a resolute nod.
It didn’t quite understand why, but if its Trainer was this serious—
Then it had to give it 120%!
Its wings flapped hard, sending a glowing blue orb into the sky.
The orb burst, and dark clouds gathered at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Raindrops began to fall—slow at first, but steadily gaining force.
Under the thickening clouds, Pelipper’s gaze was firm.
But Slowking... was already smiling.
Rain Dance?
I can do that too.
And not just Rain Dance—he had more tricks up his sleeve.
One hand slipped out from behind his back.
A casual wave, and a miniature sun blazed into life overhead.
The dark clouds that had blanketed the battlefield dispersed in an instant.
In their place, a scorching sun blazed down, its heat oppressive and downright hostile to Water-types.
“Squawk—!”
Pelipper’s battle cry, poised to sound off with confidence, got stuck halfway in its throat.
Wait, bro... aren’t you a Water-type?
How are you using that move?!
Panicking slightly, Pelipper tried to regroup.
As the lead-off Pokémon in a Rain Team, it had dealt with worse.
It had ntally prepared for this.
Its job now was to wear down the opponent’s resources.
As a designated weather-setter, it wasn’t built for direct combat. Instead, it had trained hard in other areas—
Like Screech, or Supersonic—annoying moves you could spam from a distance to slowly chip away at the enemy’s will to live.
And when it felt like it was close to fainting? U-Turn and bail.
Leave the cleanup to its teammates.
The Trainer had the sa idea.
Pelipper’s new mission was to stall and burn Slowking’s stamina.
Cast Rain Dance again if needed—force the opponent to waste energy fighting for weather control.
If they did? Great, more of their power down the drain.
If they didn’t? Then the Rain Team setup rolled forward unchallenged.
“Pelipper, Supersonic into Rain Dance.”
“And don’t get caught.”
The order was short and to the point. The Trainer trusted Pelipper could understand.
Now! This was the ti to test all their hard work!
The greater the challenge, the more you must rise to et it—that was the only truth a Trainer believed in!
And then—
“Yadon~”
“LUD—CO—LOOOOOO!!!”
Boom!
“Ludicolo is unable to battle!”
“Since all three of the challenger’s Pokémon are unable to battle…”
“This match goes to the acting Gym Leader…”
The referee waved a small flag, announcing the result.
When it ca ti to say “acting Gym Leader,” he glanced at the Slowpoke on the platform—its face oozing sagely wisdom—and hesitated.
In the end, he decided not to utter those three words.
In a way, it was a rcy.
The Trainer silently returned his fallen Ludicolo.
His expression had lost all emotion long ago.
More accurately, it vanished halfway through the battle—
Because he realized, at so point, that he had no path to victory.
Deep down, he’d known from the start whether he could win.
Maybe miracles existed—but not for him.
He’d never been lucky.
If he broke even on a scratchcard, that was peak fortune.
As for “Get one more bottle”—never once in his life.
Guess he just had to accept it.
The inevitable fate of being humiliated online for losing to a Slowpoke—he was ready for it.
Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a Trainer.
But as he stared blankly, numb to it all, sothing flickered in the Slowpoke’s eye on the command platform.
The next second, the Slowpoke that had been lying flat on the ground suddenly sprang up with the agility of a salted fish resurrecting.
Mid-air, its form twisted—and transford into a small, shadowy fox with purple-black fur and a nasty grin.
Zorua.
Staring at the newly-revealed Zorua, the Trainer’s dulled eyes sparked back to life.
Maybe... his journey as a Trainer wasn’t over after all?
Sure, people might still say he lost to a Slowpoke.
But there would also be plenty of folks who’d point out the truth: that Slowpoke was a Zorua.
Hell yes!
With that in mind, the Trainer actually looked at Zorua with a hint of gratitude.
Nice. 1 Gym fan.
Watching the Trainer’s expression, Zorua—no, w—felt quite satisfied.
Wonder what Natsu’s doing right now.
If it’s this ti of day, he’s probably just about to set off, right?
Transforming back into a Slowpoke and plopping back on the ground, w’s thoughts began to wander—its attention drifting far away from the Gym battle.
Just like Natsu said—
There’s no way this guy would obediently stay put and work at the Gym for long.
After a brief period of play, it would lose interest and start chasing after sothing new.
Then eventually, it’d get obsessed with the Gym again.
A never-ending cycle. Nothing could hold its focus long enough to keep it grounded.
This thing would even skip out on its actual job!
Lying on the ground, w glanced at Slowking, who was covering for it by handling the Gym battles.
Its psychic energy drifted out silently.
That vast ntal force imdiately caught Slowking’s attention.
It turned back to glance at w, a flicker of helplessness in its eyes.
Then it turned back around and continued doing the job that should’ve belonged to the acting Gym Leader.
A blue glow lit up in w’s eyes.
Its perspective shifted—becoming godlike, floating high above the farm.
Its gaze panned and zood, quickly locking onto Natsu and Corviknight at the farm gate, preparing for takeoff.
The mont it locked on, the view zood in, cutting to a dramatic close-up panning around Natsu.
“Be careful out there.”
Standing beside him, i couldn’t help but speak.
She’d already said a lot earlier.
But at a ti like this, she just couldn’t help but want to say more.
Maybe she was worried about Natsu. Or maybe... she just didn’t want to be apart.
For a girl who had only just confird their relationship, even a mont of separation felt unbearable.
But i also understood—
If she insisted on tagging along now, she’d only be getting in the way.
Demanding he stay behind? That’d just be selfish and spoiled.
If she ever actually did sothing like that, she’d have to bla it on a Pokémon illusion ssing with her mind!
“Okay. Got it.”
He really wanted to say things like "I’ll be back soon," or "Once I’m back, we’ll..."
But… everyone who says that kind of stuff dies horribly, don’t they?
Natsu figured it was probably better to not say things like that right now.
Otherwise it felt a little too much like tempting fate.
No need to slap on this kind of pointless buff for myself.
“Safe travels.”
i took a couple of steps back after straightening Natsu’s clothes and looked at him seriously as she spoke.
Goodbyes really don’t feel great, after all.
But then again, if she thought about it carefully—Natsu should be back pretty soon.
So it probably wasn’t a big deal.
…Right?
i wasn’t too sure herself.
He was a Legendary Pokémon, after all.
That kind of existence probably deserved a little respect… right?
“Alright, Corviknight, let’s get going.”
Climbing onto Corviknight’s back, Natsu adjusted his posture before patting the bird’s neck.
At the sa ti, he glanced back and smiled at i, who was still standing where she was.
This feeling of soone seeing you off—it was kind of nice.
Like… soone was actually waiting for him to co ho.
It felt good, knowing soone cared.
Natsu didn’t mind it at all.
Co to think of it, this would’ve totally made his old middle-school self cringe.
There was a ti in his peak chuunibyou phase when Natsu believed he didn’t need any bonds.
That he could live just fine on his own.
That ties and emotions were just dead weight, things that held him back.
ssy baggage, hard to deal with.
But looking back now… that kind of thinking really was immature.
“w?”
Head tilted, w was debating whether it should tag along too.
But Natsu had told it to stay here and look after things…
“Got it!”
Suddenly perking up, w seed to have found a solution!
It looked around cautiously, and just before the next challenger ca through, it used its psychic powers to quietly mask its presence.
Don’t ask how psychic powers made that possible.
w just felt it could do it, so it did.
With its presence hidden, w’s form shimred for a mont—
—and in the next second, another w appeared in its place.
Move: Substitute.
Normally, this technique consus a bit of the user’s stamina to create a decoy that can confuse enemies and take damage on their behalf.
So highly skilled Pokémon could even sync with their substitutes for coordinated attacks.
But in w’s hands, Substitute had beco sothing more like Shadow Clone Jutsu.
“w.”
You watch the place for .
“Yadon.”
Can I say no?
“w.”
Objection denied.
Giving its stand-in no chance to talk back, w’s real body vanished from sight.
And the next second, a tiny Flabébé—one without a flower—sneaked its way into Natsu’s pocket.
Even Natsu didn’t notice that he’d gained a little stowaway.
Only the Rotom Phone, also tucked into that sa pocket, realized that a “passenger” had just slipped in.
But under w’s deadly glare, it wisely chose to keep its mouth shut.
That familiar look—it could only belong to the boss himself.
Sorry, Boss Natsu. It’s not that I don’t want to let you know…
It’s just that w is way too scary.
The Rotom Phone quietly mourned in its heart.
“Caw-caw!”
With wings spread wide, the Corviknight Air Bus was ready for departure!
After its usual shout, Corviknight took off into the sky.
Last ti they went to fight Ting-Lu. This ti it was Chi-Yu.
Maybe next ti it’d be one of the other two.
Wonder if it’d get its own turn to shine by then.
Corviknight pondered in silence.
Corviknight wants to show off too, you know.
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