Chapter 53Back in his room, Tetsuya was about to dig into lunch when his watch suddenly buzzed. A call.

  He gnced at the screen, then answered.

  “This is Tetsuya Tamaki. What’s up?”

  “Good afternoon, Tetsuya! It’s Brock.” The familiar upbeat voice came through loud and clear.

  Tetsuya leaned back on the sofa, already suspecting something was up. “I figured. You calling now means something’s off—shouldn’t you be babysitting your million siblings or something?”

  Brock gave a sheepish ugh. “Yeah, well, I just got off a call with Sakura. She was crying. Said you bullied her.”

  Tetsuya’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  He sat up slightly, frowning. Is she seriously calling Brock after losing a fair fight? He didn’t even go that hard. And Brock couldn’t beat him either.

  On the other end of the call, Brock was quiet, probably reading the wave of disdain coming through the line.

  “I just had a normal gym match,” Tetsuya said ftly. “She lost. Badly. Maybe it hit her harder than she expected.”

  “Hah…” Brock sighed. “Yeah, that’s kinda her personality. All three sisters are like that, honestly.”

  Tetsuya reached over to pour himself a coffee, pcing his watch on the table. “Really? But you seem to get along with them.”

  “That’s mostly because of our dads,” Brock admitted. “They were close back in the day—traveled together when they were young.”

  “Oh right,” Tetsuya said, sipping his drink. “You mean Tyrant and Giant Wave, yeah? I’ve seen their old battle videos. They really lived up to those names.”

  They chatted casually, and Brock filled him in on the current state of the Cerulean Gym.

  Turns out, none of the old gym leader’s descendants—or even his grandkids—really wanted to be trainers. They either cked talent or simply weren’t interested. The three sisters, including Sakura, were more into show-style water performances than serious battles.

  The old man had let them do as they pleased while he was still sharp. But with age catching up to him and no clear successor, the worry had started creeping in.

  “Recently he’s been focused on his youngest granddaughter,” Brock said. “She’s pretty talented, apparently. He’s been personally training her. Name’s Misty. Just started with the basics.”

  Tetsuya gave a neutral hum. “Good for them.”

  He remembered Misty from the anime in his past life. But that meant nothing now. Reality didn’t follow the same script. Even ages were off—Brock and Misty had seemed the same age in the show, but here, there was nearly a decade between them.

  If the Cerulean Gym ended up differently this time, well… that was none of his business.

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s nice,” Brock continued, “but doesn’t really affect me. If it weren’t for my grandfather and his friendship with the Cerulean elder, I wouldn’t even talk to them much.”

  “Fair.” Tetsuya nodded, watching his Pokémon while they lounged and waited for food. “By the way, didn’t I already tell you I’m heading to the Pokémon School soon?”

  “Oh, right. You did,” Brock chuckled. “Just making sure. I figured Professor Oak must’ve briefed you and the Pewter Gym already.”

  “He did.” Tetsuya stretched. “Leaving tomorrow.”

  They wrapped up the conversation soon after, and Tetsuya turned his focus to feeding his team—who were now shamelessly nudging him to stop talking and start serving lunch.

  Tetsuya just smiled as his Pokémon devoured their food. His chest felt a little tight—but in the best way.

  Not from stress. From affection. From how damn cute they were when they ate like this.

  After dinner, he wandered out to the battle yard behind the Pokémon Center. He had no tasks to do today and wasn’t in a rush. The money from recent gigs would cover him for a while.

  And the trip to Pokémon School tomorrow? Fully funded. Meals and lodging for both him and his Pokémon were covered for the week, courtesy of Professor Rowan.

  He stepped into the yard, just in time to hear someone shouting:

  “I win again! Sorry, not sorry! HAHAHAHA!”

  A smug-looking teenager stood in the center, surrounded by a crowd of trainers. Cssic loudmouth energy.

  “This young master is INVINCIBLE among my age group!” the guy decred, holding up a check like it was a trophy. “Who wants to take me on next? If you beat me, this baby’s yours! Seventeen and under only! No grown-ups, alright?!”

  Tetsuya raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh. So that’s what this is,” he muttered, amused. “Money bait.”

  Still, he didn’t move. No need to rush. Better to scope the guy out first.

  Another trainer stepped up to challenge the teen, clearly fed up with the boasting—and probably tempted by the prize.

  Tetsuya crossed his arms, watching.

  Let’s see what you’ve really got.

  The young trainers around didn’t move. It was like they already knew they weren’t a match for the arrogant boy standing in the middle of the field.

  A few newcomers, like Tetsuya, had just arrived at the scene. Some of them stepped up to challenge the boy in one-on-one battles. But each one was swiftly defeated, without exception.

  After a long silence and no more takers, the boy—who introduced himself as Yezang—sighed, visibly disappointed, and turned to leave.

  That’s when Tetsuya stood up from his seat nearby and said, calmly, “I’ll do it. That alright?”

  After Miss Joy confirmed Tetsuya’s age met the conditions, Yezang nodded indifferently. “Sure. Come on.”

  They stood across from each other at the edge of the field. The Pokémon Center referee raised his fg, and the match began.

  “Go, Gigalith!”“Come out, Zubat!”

  Despite the type disadvantage, Yezang didn’t flinch. He hadn’t used this Zubat before in public, but poison-type Pokémon were his specialty. It wasn’t surprising that someone like Tetsuya would send out a rock-type to counter him—just like the st opponent who used a Boldore.

  Still, he wasn’t worried. Typing alone didn’t decide a match.

  “Gravity field,” Tetsuya ordered.“Absorb,” Yezang responded.

  A heavy khaki-colored field of energy spread outward from Gigalith, pressing down on the battlefield with increased gravity.

  Zubat, mid-flight and preparing its attack, wobbled in the air. The sudden weight was jarring—but it quickly stabilized. This wasn’t its first time under pressure. Yezang often trained his team in simuted gravity chambers.

  A green ball of energy—Absorb—unched slowly but steadily from Zubat’s mouth toward Gigalith.

  “Rock Bst!”

  Tetsuya ignored the incoming Absorb and called out his next move without hesitation.

  “Tch,” Yezang sneered. Another predictable battle.

  He knew Gigalith was slow, but that didn’t mean its attacks were. Still, Zubat was agile. Even under pressure, it should dodge those boulders easily. He didn’t even bother giving the order—it knew what to do.

  Sure enough, Zubat began weaving erratically through the air, a blur of dodges and loops.

  Just as Yezang had expected.

  But then, it happened.

  Zubat faltered—just for a split second. A hitch in its movement, like something unseen had gripped it mid-air. The pause was barely noticeable, but it was enough.

  The first rock struck Zubat dead-on. Then a second. Then a third.

  All five boulders smashed into it in quick succession, each hit amplified by type effectiveness.

  Even though the Absorb attack had just nded on Gigalith and done a decent chunk of damage, the recovery came too te. Zubat dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  “Whoa!”

  Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Just like that, Yezang’s string of easy wins had been crushed—completely and convincingly.

  Yezang stood frozen, disbelief on his face. What the hell just happened? Did Zubat... mess up?

  No. No way. He shook his head hard, trying to shake the idea. That wasn’t possible. His grandma said their bond was so strong, Zubat was nearing evolution. It couldn’t have failed him like that.

  He nodded, reassuring himself. There was no way.

  Across the field, Tetsuya returned Gigalith to its Poké Ball with a flick of his wrist, lips twisting into a slight frown.

  Not perfect. Gravity should’ve been strong enough to crush the incoming energy ball and prevent any damage. He still needed more training. Better control.

  Then he looked over at Yezang, who was now silently nodding and shaking his head like a malfunctioning wind-up toy.

  Weird guy. Might be a little unhinged.

  “Hey,” Tetsuya called out. “You lost. Hand over the check.”

  Yezang, still in a daze, passed him the check without a word.

  Tetsuya took it, gave a quick gnce at the amount, then turned and melted into the crowd before Yezang could snap out of his stupor and ask what happened to his Zubat.

  No way he was sticking around for that conversation. Always take the money and leave while they’re stunned. Who knew when the guy might change his mind?

  As he flicked the check lightly with his fingers, Tetsuya let out a satisfied breath.

  ?800,000.

  Not bad at all. That was easily the equivalent of two B-level missions. Definitely covered today’s meals—and maybe tomorrow’s too.

  He really wouldn’t mind running into more loudmouth rich kids like Yezang.

  Tetsuya knew this win wasn’t just about battle instincts. It was the way he trained his Pokémon—especially skill adaptation.

  Most trainers in this world just accepted the moves as they came, letting their Pokémon use them the "standard" way. Only a handful ever tried modifying moves or tactics.

  And even fewer succeeded. For every trainer who discovered something new, there were dozens like Sakura, who ended up making things worse. It was why most people didn’t even bother trying.

  Take gravity, for example. Tetsuya was already experimenting with gravitational repulsion, a step beyond the norm. Not bad for someone whose elementary school science came from a previous life.

  Too bad this world didn’t care much for conventional subjects. School here was all Pokémon—all the time.

  No physics, no chemistry. And no space travel either. Rockets couldn’t even get past the atmosphere before the giant green guardian in the sky—Rayquaza—came crashing down to say “nope.”

  Rayquaza wasn’t just strong. It had a temper. And it didn’t negotiate.

  In the end, this world belonged to the Pokémon.

  Tetsuya walked back to his room, already thinking ahead. He’d originally pnned to hang out longer at the battlefield, but this unexpected win changed his schedule.

  Might as well make good use of the free time.

  He took out his notes and began organizing the materials for his upcoming week of teaching.

  It was a good chance to make a solid impression. Can’t afford to screw it up in front of a bunch of students and League reps.

  While Tetsuya worked quietly in his room, he had no idea his short battle earlier had caught the attention of someone far beyond the crowd of spectators.

  Deep in a shadowy chamber, a raspy voice spoke.

  “Hm. A trainer backed by that old coot Wubo’s line? He’s got promise.”

  A younger male voice answered, respectful and clear, “Yes, Ma’am. He defeated the young master’s Zubat instantly. Our data analysts believe it was due to erratic force pressure from the gravity move.”

  The woman fell silent, considering.

  “Don’t tell the kid. Let him figure it out. He’ll grow faster that way. Losing a few matches at that age won’t kill him.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  The man turned and exited the darkened room, leaving the old woman alone with her thoughts.

  “Tetsuya Tamaki…”

  She smiled to herself.

  “Let’s see how far you can go.”