The moment Hisuian Samurott entered the battlefield, its eyes locked onto Ceruledge with a gleam of excitement.
Perhaps it was the intuition of a swordsman—Hisuian Samurott was utterly convinced that the opponent before it was a master of the blade. A worthy rival.
"Rrr…"
Letting out an eager challenge, Hisuian Samurott's gaze burned as it stared down Ceruledge.
Yet Ceruledge merely gave it a passing glance, saying nothing. The aura that had been slightly disturbed from its earlier clash with Serperior had already calmed again.
Idiot.
Even though Ceruledge didn't speak, the disdain in its eyes was more than clear.
Who told you I was some kind of swordsman?
Just because I carry swords, that makes me a swordmaster?
Why can't I be an assassin?
Ceruledge never considered itself a swordsman. It didn't have that kind of skill, honestly.
It was just an ordinary Pokémon. No lofty pride, no honor to uphold as a swordsman.
As long as it could win, that was enough.
Standing with its weapons raised, Ceruledge began to rethink its battle strategy.
Since this guy's going on about "the dignity of a swordsman," maybe that could be used against him?
Like challenging him to a pure duel of swordsmanship in the name of honor, then launching a sneak attack or something.
That'd probably be pretty effective.
But…
Ceruledge slightly tilted its head and glanced back at Natsume and the crowd watching from the sidelines.
Right now, it was representing the image of the gym—this was only the first, no, the second match of the grand opening.
Its fighting style could be cunning, could be unpredictable—but it absolutely couldn't be too underhanded.
Otherwise, the gym's reputation online might become: "Oh, that's the gym that loves cheap tricks."
That wouldn't be good for the gym's long-term future.
That's what Big Sis Mew had said.
What else did she say again?
Something like: "Make sure you look cool while you fight—show off a little if you can."
Yeah, not that it fully understood what that meant.
But if Big Sis Mew said so, she must have had her reasons.
As the little brother, all Ceruledge had to do was listen and obey.
So, it adjusted its stance and battle plan slightly.
A cold, bluish-violet flame suddenly ignited, enveloping the twin translucent blades formed from pure energy.
The soft, flickering firelight danced across Ceruledge's face, casting large, shifting shadows over its calm expression.
Already aloof and imposing by appearance, Ceruledge now seemed like a dark warrior straight out of a fantasy tale.
If someone captured this moment on camera and uploaded it online, it might just become a classic profile pic.
The kind middle schoolers loved—edgy anime characters with a brooding, tortured aura.
And in fact, someone did take a photo.
Who knows? Ceruledge's face might soon be trending online.
Clang!
Seeing Ceruledge enter its battle stance, Hisuian Samurott—who had been sulking from that earlier look of contempt—suddenly perked up again.
Then, a beat later, it realized it had gotten too excited and quickly tried to regain its composure.
It gave a slight cough and straightened its posture, putting on a prideful front.
Yeah, this kid had always looked up to those lone wandering swordsmen from a young age.
It constantly tried to mimic them.
The way it fought, the way it lived—even the little habits in how it spoke.
Anything it could imitate, it did.
It even insisted on sleeping sitting upright in a corner like some penitent warrior monk.
It had fully leaned into its "chūnibyō swordsman" persona.
Even after evolving, though it looked more stately and reliable on the outside, Mei and the others knew better.
This guy only looked reliable.
In truth, he wasn't even as steady as Corviknight.
You could say his appearance was very misleading.
Shing!
Thrilled, Hisuian Samurott gripped the hard, armor-like sheath on its foreleg and drew it with a flourish.
That was the Razor Shell—a sword made from its own body.
The lower half of the gauntlet formed the scabbard, while the upper section and the horn acted as hilt and blade.
The Pokédex had once described how the armor of Samurott's forelegs evolved into massive swords. It had mastered the art of drawing them with lightning speed, striking before the enemy could even blink.
Every Samurott held a near-fanatical obsession with swordsmanship.
They were like the "royal sword saints" you'd often see in anime or fantasy novels—noble and proud, always fighting with honor.
Which made them a stark contrast to Ceruledge.
One fought fair and square; the other would do anything to win.
Maybe if it were a Hisuian Samurott from Hisui, it and Ceruledge would have had more in common.
The moment Samurott unsheathed its blades, the battle began.
Neither of them was especially fast.
But when two fighters rushed toward each other, it only took an instant for their swords to clash.
Blades wreathed in pale flame collided with the Razor Shell, exploding into a burst of blinding sparks.
Through their crossed swords, the two Pokémon silently locked eyes.
Then, in the blink of an eye, all four blades tore apart and clashed again midair in a dazzling flurry.
Samurott's attacks flowed like water—endless, fluid. Then suddenly shifted into a ferocious storm of strikes.
It fought like a grandmaster—effortlessly unleashing its years of sword training.
Ceruledge, meanwhile, responded with icy calm, always finding that one opening amidst the relentless onslaught to slip in a cut.
In terms of swordsmanship, Ceruledge was clearly inferior.
That couldn't be helped.
Samurott had practiced swordplay since it was just an Oshawott, fighting with its shells since the very beginning.
Ceruledge, on the other hand, had only started using blades after evolving.
It never had much interest in swords, had never even touched them before.
Now it wielded them only because, well… its arms had become swords.
That it could hold its own at all against Samurott—it figured—was thanks to its slightly faster speed and the teachings it'd received from all the "veterans" on the farm.
Yes, the many, many veterans.
On the farm, Ceruledge felt like a child raised by a whole village.
Officially, Big Sis Mew was its teacher.
But everyone knew how Mew was—she never stuck to one task for too long.
So more often than not, the two little Charcadets were passed around to train with whoever was free.
Slowking, shiny Furret, Cursola… even those senior Pokémon helped out.
After evolving, maybe because of its new twin blades, even Gallade—who usually lazed around—took an interest and trained it for a while.
That period really helped Ceruledge grow.
In terms of offensive tempo, Samurott was nowhere near as sharp as Gallade.
Seizing another brief opening, Ceruledge slashed across Samurott's body and quickly pulled back.
Still, it had to admit—Samurott was putting serious pressure on it.
Aqua Cutter. Razor Shell. Sacred Sword. Shell Blade.
Every blade-based move seemed second nature in Samurott's hands, all woven into its seamless battle style.
In that respect, it had come much farther than Ceruledge.
And as it fought, Ceruledge began to glimpse a possible path for its own growth.
It shook its head slightly, brushing away the flood of thoughts.
Then raised its twin blades once more.
Rushing to blindly imitate someone else's tactics just because they seemed effective is a foolish move.
Today you see someone using pure swordsmanship to overwhelm their opponent. Tomorrow, someone else blends sword techniques with skills to secure victory. The day after, it's someone blasting their way to the top with a barrage of abilities.
Are you going to try to copy them all?
You'll end up a jumbled mess, good at nothing.
What you should do isn't rushing to imitate them, but rather going back and seriously thinking about where your own battle style should head. Only then can you decide the right direction for your growth.
Boom!
An intense blaze erupted, no longer the calm, steady flames from before—it now boiled like a pot of scalding water.
Just looking at it stirred a sense of blazing determination.
As if this fire was the very embodiment of its inner fighting spirit.
Staring into the roaring flames ahead, Samurott's eyes blazed even hotter than the fire itself.
It lowered its head slightly, a blinding white light gathering at the tip of its horn.
For a moment, firelight and the stark glow of its skill divided the battlefield into two burning halves.
Fwoosh!
At a certain moment, the flames surrounding Ceruledge vanished abruptly, leaving only a few flickering embers trembling in the wind atop its blades.
And in the very next second, a slash wreathed in flames and a meteor-like horn strike exploded against each other.
The moment they realized it, the two had already collided.
A massive shockwave burst forth, spiderweb cracks sprawling across the ground.
Both sides locked eyes, neither giving an inch.
Neither Sacred Sword nor Megahorn could break through the other's assault to leave a solid hit.
This stalemate dragged on for four or five seconds, until—
Shhk!
Samurott's previously fired-up expression froze, its head drooping slightly.
Its shadow, which should've been formless and flat, stretched out unnaturally behind it… and struck at the crucial moment.
A moment later, violet-blue flames surged forth, engulfing Samurott entirely.
A storm of ghostly fire raged across the battlefield, only gradually fading after several seconds.
Ceruledge sheathed its dual blades, tilting its head to look at the scorched and motionless Samurott lying on the ground.
I told you—I'm not a swordsman.
Did you really think I'd get all fired up and play along with your little sword duel?
With a small, bored shake of its head, Ceruledge turned and walked back toward Natsume.
Not a bad fight… just a shame the opponent wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.
"You did great, Ceruledge."
Natsume smiled as he spoke to the fire/ghost-type who looked just as calm and indifferent as if the battle had never happened.
Maybe Ceruledge was well-suited to handling gym challengers over the long run.
It didn't have any real enthusiasm for the task—but it didn't hate it either. It just treated it like another day at the office.
People who throw themselves into something just because they're briefly passionate about it usually end up giving up once that excitement fades.
Ceruledge shook its head: I wasn't tired at all.
A grass snake that got knocked out with two punches from a Swampert and a sword-cosplaying simpleton with no brain?
This wasn't even close to the intensity of training with that shiny Furret.
It all comes down to discipline.
Back when it was still a humble Charcadet, it didn't learn many powerful moves, nor did it suddenly become strong.
But consistent training had definitely hardened its will.
That was why, now that it had evolved, it wasn't getting carried away or losing control of its power from the thrill of it all.
That would've been downright stupid.
"Samurott is unable to battle!"
"With all three of the challenger's Pokémon unable to continue, the winner of this gym battle is Gym Leader Natsume!"
After checking on Samurott and confirming it had well and truly passed out—with no surprise comebacks via dramatic sit-ups—the referee waved his little flag and made the official call.
In a world where love and bonds between trainers and Pokémon are deeply valued…
Miracles do happen.
There are always some Pokémon who push past their limits, who stand up again and again no matter how many times they're knocked down, all because of that bond.
And if you call the match too early, only for a Pokémon in the middle of a comeback moment to be unjustly declared the loser…
Oh, the internet will have your head.
That's an express elevator to public shaming—with a side of tasers.
By then, you can forget about your career.
You'd better worry about whether the online crowd is going to revoke your human status.
Might even have some emotionally-charged netizens manually boot you out of the biosphere.
"Thanks for your hard work, Samurott. You did great."
As she recalled her Samurott, Mei gave a faint, wry smile.
Ah, lost again.
As expected, Natsume was just too strong.
He always says he's not suited to being a trainer, but seriously—if he's not qualified, then who is?
After the battle, the fierce fighting spirit Mei had carried faded, and her usual adorable self returned.
To be honest, when she first lost to Natsume, she'd felt a bit indignant.
She thought that if she worked hard enough, she could catch up.
But the more they battled, the more she lost—until eventually she just accepted reality and gave up resisting.
At this point, losing to Natsume just felt… natural.
Mei couldn't even imagine herself beating him anymore.
Which was kind of a bummer, honestly.
"Mei."
Having returned Ceruledge to its ball, Natsume walked over from the side of the battlefield.
Seeing that Mei hadn't fallen into a slump after her loss, he smiled faintly.
She used to dwell on her defeats for a long time.
This was a kind of progress, too, wasn't it?
After all, no one wins every single battle.
Well—except for Natsume.
So far, he'd only lost once.
That was in the farm's eating contest, where he bombed spectacularly.
Eliminated early, he could only sit and watch as Corviknight and a transformed Mew (posing as a Snorlax) went at it, devouring everything in sight.
Natsume had a sneaking suspicion that the two of them weren't even competing for first place.
They were just showing off their eating skills.
As if they were trying to tell him he'd been starving them all this time.
"You did well. As a Gym Leader, I acknowledge your strength."
"Here's your badge."
He pulled a small box from his pocket, and inside it lay a gleaming gym badge.
Even though Mei technically lost the battle, Natsume still recognized her strength.
If he really only gave out badges to those who beat him, his gym's difficulty rating would shoot straight into the stratosphere.
Of course, Mei's strength wasn't the only reason he awarded her the badge.
To be honest, Natsume wasn't the "strict and impartial" type of person.
At least, that's how he saw himself.
And none of the spectators had any objections to Mei receiving a badge despite her loss.
They'd seen her performance. They knew how strong she was.
For someone so young, achieving this level was already incredible.
Granted, she still wasn't in Natsume's league.
He had long since surpassed his peers.
While others were still comparing how many gyms they'd cleared or how many badges they had, Natsume had skipped right past all of that and become a Gym Leader himself.
That's a goal many people would never reach even in their entire lives.
In fact, the Jadeleaf League had extremely strict standards for Gym Leaders.
Both strength and character were non-negotiable.
If you lacked strength, you'd just become a badge dispenser—nothing more than a mascot for others to step on.
And if you had power but no character, you'd turn into the kind of jerk who bullied rookie trainers for fun.
Both outcomes would tarnish the League's reputation.
Of course, that didn't mean Gym Leaders were expected to be punching bags who never fought back or talked back.
When necessary, they had to show backbone. And when questioned, they had to prove themselves with results.
That's why every Gym Leader in the Jadeleaf League met at least the baseline for both strength and integrity.
Granted, that was by Jadeleaf standards.
Everyone knows: aside from its vast land and abundant resources, Jadeleaf is also famous for having an absurd number of trainers.
And let's not forget its… enthusiastic martial spirit.
Some might think, "But isn't Jadeleaf known for its love of peace?"
Sure, but here's a question: If you had to battle either a team of Trainers from Kanto or one from Unova… who would you pick?
Most people would seriously consider it before answering.
And a few would ask, "Can't I take on both?"
The truth is, the spirit of combat runs deep in the bones here.
Most just keep it under control.
And now that there's Pokémon battling, that inner desire for combat has found the perfect outlet.
In a place this brimming with martial energy, being a Gym Leader takes more than just strength.
You've gotta be really good at fighting if you want the people to respect you.
Some say that Gym Leaders from the Jadeleaf League could easily qualify as Elite Four members—or even Champions—in other countries.
And among the Gym Leaders of the Jadeleaf League, Natsume was already in a league of his own, far surpassing his peers.
There are always some geniuses who defy age as a metric.
"Thank you, Leader Natsume! I'll keep working hard from here!"
Mei took the hard-earned badge with both hands, speaking with heartfelt sincerity.
To her, this badge had been harder to win than any of her previous ones.
There had been no visible hope of victory—everything relied purely on theory.
In theory, as long as you dodged every attack perfectly, you could win.
In theory, if you kept the right distance, you could take down your opponent.
In theory...
It was all in theory.
As everyone knows, anything that only works in theory might as well not work at all.
Just like how things that "shouldn't work in principle" somehow always end up working.
"Keep at it."
Natsume murmured softly, before shifting into the usual scripted remarks expected after a gym match.
Then came the routine press Q&A session with a few on-site reporters, as customary after the first gym battle of the day.
These were all arranged by the Jadeleaf League's PR team—no tough or tricky questions.
All Natsume had to do was stick to the prepared script and give some generic, repeatable answers.
Nothing groundbreaking, but nothing risky either.
Sometimes, not screwing up is already a major accomplishment.
Watching Natsume's figure as he turned away, Mei gently held the badge in her hand.
She'd even seen the design drafts for this badge—had offered her own suggestions, too.
Strictly speaking, that made her one of the badge's designers, didn't it?
Now that she held the real thing, she couldn't help feeling a little excited.
Look! I helped design this badge!
Mei had the urge to brag in the class group chat.
But after thinking it over, she decided against it.
After all, she'd only made a few minor suggestions—it wasn't really anything worth showing off.
This badge was the result of Natsume and female Indeedee's hard work. She had no right to steal their thunder.
(Natsume: Honestly, if you just said it was Indeedee's work, that's fine too.)
Still, Mei snapped a photo of the badge and casually sent it to the high school class group chat.
At that moment, a bunch of classmates were busy bragging about their travel adventures.
One of them—identity still unclear—was already going off about their mysterious "connections" to an Elite Four member.
The moment Mei's photo dropped, it stirred up a whole new wave of discussion.
Clearly, everyone was already fed up with that poser.
Come on, we all went to the same school, same class. Who are you trying to fool?
If you're really that good, why are you even in the same classroom as us? And still copying my homework?
Kinda ridiculous, honestly.
Mei responded briefly to a few friends she was close to, then stopped paying attention to the chat.
Carefully storing the badge in her badge case, she gave her little bag a satisfied pat.
This was, after all, the very first badge awarded by the youngest Gym Leader.
It had to be worth something someday—maybe even a collector's item. Who knows? If she ever fell on hard times, she might be able to sell it for a hefty price.
She chuckled inwardly at her own joke.
The loss in today's battle hadn't upset Mei much.
Like she'd told herself before—aim to win one, push for two, and survive the full match. That was enough.
And she'd met her goal.
After taking down the Swampert, she'd forced out the Ceruledge.
Even though the Ceruledge went on to beat two of her Pokémon, it wasn't a one-sided slaughter.
It was more that she lacked the right intel to fight effectively.
Still, Mei was content.
If anything, she felt a little regretful—her knowledge base clearly needed expanding.
She'd have to put in more time studying later.
Being a Trainer meant being a lifelong learner.
New Pokémon were discovered every year. New tactics and techniques emerged all the time.
You didn't have to be a scholar, but any top-tier Trainer needed to be able to read a research paper or two.
The old-school, brainless brawler types still existed—but barely. They were basically extinct.
Because if you didn't have the smarts to properly care for and train your Pokémon, how could you create a scientific and effective training plan for them?
What, leave it all to someone else?
Then what's the point of being a Trainer?
Before long, Natsume had wrapped up the reporter Q&A.
As expected, all the questions had been pre-approved, and that was a relief.
The last thing he wanted was to slip up and say something that could blow up later.
After that, Natsume faced two more challengers.
Unlike earlier, this time he fought with noticeably more aggression.
Right from the start, he led with Armarouge and unleashed brutal offense.
Due to his childhood love for a certain red knight from a show, Natsume had a soft spot for Armarouge.
That red-armored knight had just looked so cool back then.
And honestly, he liked the name "Armarouge" more than "Gallantmon."
Natsume's training plan for Armarouge was simple:
More firepower. More stamina. More defense.
No need for fancy tricks—just keep stacking the core stats.
All the resources it needed, it would get. Its job was just to get stronger.
Higher flame temperature. Faster, sharper execution. Perfect skill mastery.
With the Fire/Psychic typing, Armarouge not only hit hard, it could protect itself too.
Moves like Reflect and Psychic could offer strong support, helping Armarouge handle various opponents with ease.
Trick Room kept sneaky assassins like Weavile from rushing it down.
That said, Armarouge's defenses were solid already. It wasn't a glass cannon.
You could tell just by looking at its heavy armor.
If some squishy assassin-type tried a face dive, they'd probably end up realizing too late that they couldn't even scratch Armarouge.
Watching Armarouge in battle, the only word that came to mind was "smooth."
There was no hesitation—every move was seamless.
At the start of the battle, its shoulder guards slid down to its wrists, transforming its arms into cannon-like weapons.
Then came the performance.
If Ceruledge fought with water-tight swordsmanship and "tricky" techniques...
Armarouge's battles were a dazzling bullet hell.
It opened with a Scorching Sands to burn any Berries off the opponent.
Then came Mystical Fire, Fire Spin, Flamethrower, Fire Blast—one after another.
Occasionally spiced up with Acid Bombs and Shadow Balls.
Armarouge's movepool was frankly excellent.
It had strong coverage and solid moves across multiple types.
Perfectly in tune with its base stats.
Even the so-called "One and Only King" nearby would be crying in envy—tears of jealousy pouring from his mouth.
After the barrage, the battle ended with a massive Armor Cannon.
Armor Cannon was Armarouge's signature move—just like Bitter Blade was for Ceruledge.
Armor Cannon had a base power of 120, but lowered the user's Defense and Sp. Def after use.
Bitter Blade was weaker at 90 power, but healed half the damage dealt.
Basically, it was a lifesteal sword.
Sure, Armor Cannon had drawbacks—but with that kind of power, who cared?
It was meant to finish the fight anyway. Once the opponent was down, what did it matter if your defenses dropped?
After defeating two of the challenger's Pokémon with Armarouge, Natsume sent out his shiny Furret for the last round—a more even fight.
It gave the challenger a bit of dignity, and helped them calm down after the crushing first round.
Maybe it's not that I'm bad... It's that Leader Natsume is just way too strong.
Watching the flashy back-and-forth between their partner and the shiny Furret, the challenger let out a quiet sigh and focused back on the match.
At the very least, I should finish this battle properly. My Pokémon are still fighting—I, as their Trainer, can't give up early.
Afterward, with gratitude in the second challenger's eyes, Natsume welcomed the third challenger of the day.
Earlier, Natsume had been wondering if he'd run into any brainless types today.
And, well—turns out he had.
This guy hadn't openly insulted anyone, but the passive-aggressive attitude was undeniable—and annoying.
This middle-aged Trainer clearly thought Natsume was too young to be taken seriously.
Forget his strength—could a kid like that even handle the responsibilities of a Trainer?
Probably hadn't been through much either. Definitely not someone you could count on.
In short, he was bitter.
Staring at the sour-faced challenger before him, Natsume thought for a moment, then replied:
"Challenging this gym is the only time you and I will ever cross paths in life."
"I don't have anything else to say to you."
"After this match, go home and find yourself a proper job."
"Being a Trainer isn't for you."
Natsume had already read the guy's file.
And frankly, "persistent" was the best thing he could say about him.
High EQ: persistent.
Low EQ: middle-aged loser with no results, weak but still clinging to dreams.
Before the other Trainer could retort, Natsume released his first Pokémon onto the field.
"Let's go, Corviknight."
At the moment the white light exploded, a strong gust of wind suddenly swept across the battlefield.
Under the dazzling white lights, a hulking figure with a metallic sheen descended onto the arena.
Before the battle even began, Natsume had anticipated the possibility of something unexpected happening—so he made sure to bring his main force along.
Like the one currently stepping forward to fight—Corviknight.
Tilting its head, the Corviknight, cloaked in dark metallic feathers, stared at the opposing trainer with its dark red eyes.
It was almost like it was silently urging the opponent to hurry up and send out their Pokémon.
Normally carefree and a bit goofy, Corviknight showed no signs of playfulness at this moment. It simply stared quietly at its target.
Standing on the opposite end of the battlefield, the middle-aged challenger froze.
He'd been so focused on the fact that his opponent was just a youngster that he'd completely overlooked Natsume's actual strength.
He opened his mouth, seemingly trying to say something.
But it no longer mattered.
"Pidgeot is unable to battle!"
"Challenger, please send out your next Pokémon!"
"Poliwrath is unable to battle!"
"Challenger, please send out your next Pokémon!"
"Jumpluff is unable to battle!"
"As all three of the challenger's Pokémon have lost the ability to battle, the winner of this Gym battle is Gym Leader Natsume!"
It was a quick battle, without much suspense or spectacle.
Compared to earlier matches, Corviknight—fighting at full force—was downright simple and straightforward.
From the opponent's point of view, it could be summed up in one sentence:
"I showed up, I one-shotted you, what are you gonna do about it?!"
"Good luck."
Tossing out that line casually, Natsume left the battlefield without another glance.
Originally, Natsume had considered sending out Ting-Lu, Pecharunt, and Okidogi to give the challenger a little legendary shock and awe.
But on second thought, it just wasn't necessary.
Not worth it.
So instead, he sent out Corviknight—who had clearly gotten a bit chubbier recently.
Yep, the fact that Corviknight had been gaining weight hadn't escaped Natsume's notice.
It all started one night when Natsume was cleaning Corviknight and got jabbed by its round belly.
Seeing the guilty look in its eyes, Natsume felt like he suddenly understood everything.
And thus began Corviknight's nightmare.
Its regular meals were cut down, and snacks were basically nonexistent.
Watching a show without snacks? That's soulless!
At first, Corviknight thought this kind of life would last until it slimmed down.
But earlier, Natsume had said that if Corviknight gave a strong enough performance today, the snack ban would be lifted—for tonight only.
Just tonight. One chance.
But for Corviknight, that promise was pure heaven.
So the moment it entered the field, it went all in.
Holding back? Taking things slow?
Doesn't exist.
Natsume said go all out—so Corviknight didn't hold anything back.
It went for the kill!
In the first match, it took a bit of time to set up.
But once the setup was done, it only took one wing strike. Next.
The second Pokémon didn't even know what hit it before getting clocked straight in the face.
Then came the third one—this one at least lasted a little longer.
Corviknight gave it two solid smacks.
The first blow flattened it to the ground.
And since it hadn't technically lost the ability to battle yet, Corviknight finished it off with one more hit.
Come on, the goal this round was crystal clear.
If that guy managed to hold on, then what about Corviknight's pride? What about its snacks?
Pride? Whatever.
Corviknight never had much pride anyway—on the farm, it was always at the bottom of both the food chain and the pecking order.
But snacks? That's a different story.
That, it had to fight for.
And just like that, the morning's Gym challenge came to an end.
The results and battle footage were soon circulating online.
In the internet age, there are barely any secrets that can stay hidden.
Besides, Natsume never intended to keep his Gym's situation under wraps.
A bit of publicity is good for the Gym's future development.
It helps people understand the actual difficulty of challenging the Gym.
Otherwise, if rookie trainers keep showing up with just a freshly caught Rattata or Bellsprout, it'd be more of a headache than anything.
Some people, no matter how clear you make the challenge requirements, will still stubbornly try their luck.
Only when they realize they're completely outmatched will they finally back down.
The afternoon's Gym challenge was fairly standard.
The only noteworthy thing was that the first challenger originally scheduled for the afternoon canceled at the last minute, saying something had come up at home.
Maybe it really was something urgent.
But that had nothing to do with Natsume anymore.
Once the afternoon session ended and the Gym closed for the day, Natsume headed straight back to the farm.
Well—"headed back" was just walking through the back door of the Gym.
After all, the Gym itself had been built on the edge of the farm.
By the time Natsume got home, night had fully fallen.
Since it was the Gym's opening day, there were a lot of things he had double-checked after everything ended.
Making sure the doors and windows were properly locked, making sure the system was in sleep mode.
Even though there were staff watching over the place…
Natsume still felt he hadn't fully adjusted his mindset yet.
From laid-back farm boss to laid-back Gym Leader.
At the moment, Natsume figured he could still act like a responsible, hands-on Gym Leader for a little while longer.
"Ah, it's almost winter already."
Looking up at the dim moon in the sky, Natsume belatedly realized that autumn had come and gone.
That's just how Lianshan Town was—awkwardly situated.
People from the south thought it belonged to the north. People from the north thought it belonged to the south.
It had all four seasons.
But spring and autumn were so short, you could basically ignore them.
Blink and you'd miss the mild weather—before you knew it, scorching summer or bitter winter had arrived.
Some places are hot in summer but mild in winter.
Others are freezing in winter but cool in summer.
And then there are unlucky places—like Lianshan Town—hot in summer and freezing in winter.
No shortage of hardships.
Maybe that's just fate.
"Whatever. Not thinking about it anymore."
Shaking his head, Natsume quickened his pace to the door.
As soon as he opened it, a warm yellow light spilled through the doorway.
Just from the light alone, Natsume could tell Mei was here.
When he was home by himself, he always used the white ceiling lights in the living room.
Only Mei would turn on the warm-colored lamp in the corner—the one originally meant as a decorative touch.
"Natsume, you're back!"
Sure enough, hearing the door open, Mei peeked out from the kitchen excitedly.
The moment she saw it was Natsume, she skipped over to greet him.
She had taken off her classic Trainer outfit from earlier—sun hat, sportswear, and sneakers—and changed into the clothes they'd bought together on their last shopping trip.
The oversized outfit nicely concealed her figure.
When she was home or just relaxing, Mei preferred wearing loose, comfortable clothes.
During their travels, she always had to wear something practical and easy to move in—which could feel a bit restrictive after a while.
That's why she liked the relaxed feel of these home clothes.
Right now, she had a pale pink apron tied around her front and thick oven mitts on her hands.
Looked like she was about to cook something.
Mei's cooking skills weren't top-tier, but she had a lot of enthusiasm for trying new recipes.
Whenever she had free time, she'd follow those viral online recipes.
Problem was, a lot of those recipes ended in disaster.
To the point where Mei almost gave up trying new ones.
Mostly because she and Natsume had to finish all the failed dishes together.
Wasting food is shameful.
Even if it turns out badly, you've got to eat what you made—tears and all.
Of course, anything that might actually cause food poisoning was a different story.
That wasn't frugality—that was asking for trouble.
"I'm back."
Natsume smiled at Mei as he took off his coat and set it aside.
At that moment, Natsume suddenly had a strange feeling.
It was as if… they'd already been like this for a long time.
Like a couple who had been married for years?
No way.
The thought barely surfaced before Natsume quickly pushed it aside.
Yeah, that was definitely overthinking it.
He was only nineteen this year, and Mei was a few months younger—not even nineteen yet.
They were just eighteen.
Calling them an old married couple was more than a little absurd.
"What are you up to, dressed like that?"
Looking at Mei's outfit, Natsume feigned curiosity.
Even if he already had a good idea, sometimes it was better to play along and pretend he didn't know.
It gave the girl a little chance to show off, just a bit.
When she first came to the farm, Mei had never mentioned liking to cook or anything like that.
Some things—well, they only become meaningful when done with certain people.
"I'm going to bake some little cakes."
"This afternoon, Indeedee's little sister spent ages going through recipes before we finally settled on this one."
She lifted her phone and showed Natsume the mini cakes she'd picked out earlier.
Visually speaking, they actually looked pretty decent.
But Natsume had a feeling Mei might end up giving up on making them look like that.
Couldn't be helped—getting the look, the aroma, and the flavor all right was still a bit out of reach for her at this stage.
As long as they smelled good and tasted good, that'd be enough.
And sure enough, just as Natsume expected.
After a few tries, Mei decisively gave up on the aesthetic part of the mini cakes.
That level of detail was just a bit beyond her for now.
If they tasted fine, that was already great in her book.
"Ding~"
"Ah! They're done!"
At the sound of the timer, Mei dashed off toward the kitchen in a flurry.
This was her first time trying to make mini cakes.
She couldn't afford to mess it up!
Not this time!
Watching her bustling about in the kitchen, Natsume's lips curved into a small, involuntary smile.
For Natsume, living alone had never really been a big deal.
With his Pokémon around, he'd never felt lonely.
Even back when he was sleeping in a nearly abandoned old house with Persian and the others, he hadn't felt lonely.
But after Mei had come and gone again, sometimes Natsume felt like something was missing.
When making Pokéblocks. When brushing his Pokémon's fur.
No fixed timing to it—just during some quiet moment, when his hands happened to stop moving.
He'd always feel like… something was missing.
Missing the voice that used to keep him company in idle chatter.
And when that feeling hit, Natsume would often grab whatever fuzzy Pokémon was passing by and give it a good, chaotic scritch.
The most frequent victim—Mew—had since learned to closely watch Natsume's body language.
It would sit quietly nearby when he was busy, but the second he showed signs of taking a break, it'd bolt.
I have dignity too! Mew protested in its heart.
I'm not some plush toy you can just squish whenever you want! At least offer me snacks first!
But sadly, protests fell on deaf ears.
Poor Mew still ended up repeatedly in the clutches of the Great Demon King Natsume.
At least, that's how Mew told it to the other Pokémon.
And of course, those stories always ended up circling back to Natsume somehow.
Whenever he heard them, he'd find Mew again for another round of aggressive scritching.
"So you're the one badmouthing me, huh? Guess I'll have to teach you a lesson!"
Sometimes Natsume even suspected that Mew was doing it on purpose.
How else could he explain its behavior?
It knew it'd get caught and squished again, but it kept spreading rumors anyway.
Could it be… a bit of an M?
Emmmmm…
Best not to think too hard about that.
If he kept going down that road, he'd start thinking about those Pokémon that enjoy battling.
After all, getting hurt and taking hits are part of battle too.
If you enjoy battle, aren't you kind of enjoying…
Nope. Can't say it. Not going there.
This book is not shifting genres into the adult-only category.
"Mew~"
Right on cue, just as he was thinking about it, the pink rascal popped out from a corner of the living room.
It was holding a phone nearly the size of its own head.
The mischievous grin on its face made it obvious: it had just pulled another prank.
Well, maybe not a prank, per se.
But definitely something it found amusing.
Mew definitely had a bit of that chaotic trickster energy in its blood.
Natsume eyed the phone in its hands but didn't reach out to take it.
Since he'd given it to Mew, it belonged to Mew now.
Natsume didn't like it when people casually took his things without asking, so he tried not to do that to others either.
Mei had once asked him, during a casual conversation, what kind of person he wanted to become.
At the time, Natsume couldn't come up with a clear answer.
But he did know what kind of person he didn't want to become—and he worked hard to avoid doing things he himself would find distasteful.
"Enough playing. Mei made mini cakes tonight. You're eating with us later."
"Mew…"
The mischievous grin vanished from Mew's face, replaced by visible dread.
Can I still escape if I run now?
It wasn't that it didn't trust Mei's cooking.
But whenever Mei tried something new, there was always a chance it would go horribly wrong.
And being dragged in to taste test meant suffering in silence.
After every bite, Mew would immediately dash off to rinse its mouth with juice and Pokéblocks.
"Nope."
Natsume's merciless reply crushed Mew's last hope.
Cursed Natsume, I hope you can't sleep tonight!
Fuming, Mew planted a vicious curse on him in its heart.
Shhhhhuuuua—
A dragging sound against the floor signaled another arrival.
Turning his head, Natsume saw a visibly annoyed Serperior slithering over.
It began to complain about Corviknight's "awful" behavior.
After not seeing each other for so long, it had thought they'd have a warm reunion.
But instead of a welcome, it got a cold, guarded stare—like Corviknight was worried it had come to steal its snacks.
What do you take me for?!
Am I that kind of snake?!
Okay, fine, Natsume's snacks were pretty tasty.
And yes, they were hard to find outside.
And sure, Pokéblocks out there really weren't all that great.
And also—
Sluuuurp—
But I, Serperior, would never stoop to craving your snacks! (wipes mouth)
"Ah, yeah. That is pretty insulting."
Looking at the flustered Serperior, Natsume couldn't help but feel a little amused.
This kid always managed to be unintentionally hilarious.
Normally, it gave off this aloof, dignified air—but the second Corviknight entered the scene, it turned into the straight man in a comedy routine.
That contrast was what made it so fun to watch.
"Alright, alright. Don't be mad."
"That dumb Corviknight really was out of line. I'll teach it a lesson later."
"Cut its snack allowance for a month, take away its phone and laptop."
"And then have Shiny Furret put it through a week of intense training."
As he gently patted Serperior's head like one would calm a child, Natsume spoke soothingly.
Serperior's eyes flickered oddly at his words.
It turned away, its expression a little awkward.
"Ser…"
It's not that serious, really. I wasn't that mad.
Seeing the bashful Serperior, Natsume exchanged a glance with Mew, and both could see the amusement in each other's eyes.
This kid's thoughts were pretty easy to read.
To put it plainly, it had just been ticked off by Corviknight and wanted a little revenge.
But when it came to really going too far, Serperior couldn't quite bring itself to do it.
It just didn't feel like the situation called for such extremes.
As long as Natsume grasped Serperior's current mindset, this was an easy issue to resolve.
"Alright, fine. For your sake, I won't confiscate its phone."
"But training is non-negotiable."
"You have no idea how much that guy's been putting on weight lately."
"The last time I gave it a bath, its belly was sticking out more than its beak."
"At this rate, it's going to turn into a super fat bird."
Hearing Natsume's words, Serperior pictured a bloated, oversized Corviknight in its mind—
And couldn't help but shiver.
That image was just too disgusting. Absolutely not!
"Serr!"
Please! You have to make it lose weight!
Serperior looked at Natsume with utmost sincerity.
In its memory, while Corviknight had a sharp tongue, it was still undeniably cool-looking.
If even that cool appearance were lost…
Serperior felt it might not even be able to look Corviknight in the eye anymore.
What can it say—humans are visual creatures.
And so are Pokémon.
Especially Serperior, the very embodiment of elegance and mystery.
"Alright, starting tomorrow, I'll have Shiny Furret drag it into training."
"That guy really has been slacking off lately."
Clapping his hands, Natsume finalized Corviknight's new schedule.
In fact, he had been planning this for a while—he just hadn't made it official until today.
First thing in the morning, Corviknight would have a cup of energy drink specially crafted by the younger Butler.
Then the torment would begin.
First stop: high-intensity physical training with Shiny Furret.
At some point, Shiny Furret had become obsessed with achieving the ultimate physique.
All those flashy moves were just auxiliary tools now.
With a body strong enough, there was no enemy it couldn't defeat!
And if it lost, it just meant its muscle purity wasn't high enough!
Second stop: move training with Mew-sensei.
No need for long lectures—just cycle through every move it knows five times.
Then Mew would assign the rest of the training plan.
Lunchtime was rest and food.
Meals were handled by Indeedee, who brought nutritious meals specially prepared.
Afternoon training consisted of a mixed doubles match featuring Slowking and Ogerpon.
That duo was hand-picked by Natsume with care.
Slowking had recently taken to challenging Corviknight whenever it was free.
It could fight, but its attacks were too soft—like a tickle—so it needed a hard-hitting partner.
And Ogerpon, ever since reclaiming its mask, had been itching for a chance to let loose.
It knew its own strength well and understood that only by pushing its limits could it wield its power better in battle.
Problem was, there weren't many on the farm who could tank Ogerpon's full power head-on.
The likes of Tauros and company? Just glorified bouncing balls—Ogerpon swatted them around for fun.
Nowhere near punching-bag level.
This was where the farm's reigning "King of Endurance," Corviknight, stepped in.
Corviknight could hone its tankiness, Ogerpon could explore its full potential, and Slowking could figure out what support moves were actually worth using in double battles.
More practice with underused support moves wouldn't hurt.
A triple win!
Wait, no—Natsume wins too.
Quadruple win!
So yeah, Corviknight was definitely getting beat up.
As for the evening, Natsume figured he'd let Corviknight do whatever it wanted.
Watch shows, scroll its phone—whatever it fancied.
You've got to give the kid some downtime, after all.
Natsume wasn't planning to take that little leisure time away.
Of course, that was assuming Corviknight behaved. If it didn't… well, then things might not be so nice.
Natsume was sure Corviknight understood that perfectly well.
"Cakes are ready!"
Mei's voice rang out from the kitchen.
Mew, who had been gleefully watching the drama, suddenly froze. It instinctively turned its head toward Natsume.
I just remembered I have something to do. I'm heading out.
You try the cakes for me. If they're good, bring some to me.
If not… forget it.
Natsume didn't know how Mew did it, but somehow, he could understand all of that just from one look.
Maybe that's the power of a mythical Pokémon.
Natsume himself wasn't as skilled—he could only reply with a simple message:
No.
"Mew…"
Mew's tail drooped pathetically, and its face took on a deeply sorrowful expression.
It looked pitiful.
But Natsume remained unmoved.
At first, he used to feel bad for it—but over time, he realized:
This little guy's a total actor.
What a waste it wasn't born for the stage.
Yes, this whole performance was just an act. Don't be fooled by that pitiful expression—it was probably snickering inside.
Realizing Natsume wasn't falling for it, Mew puffed out its cheeks angrily.
It looked like an angry little pufferfish.
Honestly, appearance-wise, Mew was pretty cute.
If Diancie was the most beautiful Pokémon in the world, then in Natsume's opinion, Mew could definitely compete for the title of cutest.
And that's just its natural form.
If you factored in its transformation ability…
Then Natsume figured Mew could win any title—cutest, most beautiful, coolest, or whatever else.
What can he say—being able to transform means you can do whatever you want.
Beside them, Serperior's tail swayed slightly. No reaction.
It was used to this.
Ever since Mei met Natsume, she had started cooking.
You think all those early cooking disasters were eaten by Mei alone?
Nope—it was Serperior!
Back then, Mei's cooking was… well, "catastrophic" would be putting it lightly.
Serperior suspected that if Mei hadn't improved, it might have developed poison resistance by now. Which, in a way, was a kind of talent too.
"Heave-ho!"
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Mei brought out a steaming tray of mini cakes.
The kitchen had been sweltering.
Even though Mei was only wearing a loose, oversized shirt, she was drenched in sweat.
She looked at the cakes with satisfaction and nodded.
Fresh from the oven, the golden surface of the mini cakes glistened slightly with oil, looking both tempting and delicious.
They were topped with powdered sugar Mei had just dusted on.
To be honest, Mei had wanted to make those fancy little cakes you see all over social media.
But her skills weren't quite there yet—this was the best she could do for now.
"Smells amazing."
"Mew!"
"Ser!"
One human and two Pokémon gathered around the table, eyes fixed curiously on the mini cakes Mei had just brought out.
None of them had expected her to nail the cake on her first try—and it turned out pretty great.
Not just the aroma—even the appearance was solid.
Honestly, not too far off from what you'd find in a shop.
Mew stole a glance at Serperior beside it.
Are you sure she's never made these cakes before?
Serperior rolled its eyes silently.
Positive.
Back when Mei was still traveling, she usually stayed in rooms provided by Pokémon Centers.
While they were fine for sleeping, they weren't exactly suited for cooking.
There hadn't really been much opportunity to develop any cooking skills.
Frankly, the fact that her cooking hadn't regressed during that time was impressive in itself.
Tilting its head slightly, Mew glanced at the kitchen with a suspicious look.
Hmm. The younger Butler wasn't there either.
So it really was Mei who made these.
Was this what they called… the power of love?
Wait a minute—had things between them really progressed that far?
Mew fell into a deep, contemplative silence.
Question: What should one do when the couple you're shipping shows absolutely no romantic development?
Logically, this was the time to start playing matchmaker.
But Mew felt that any small moves on its part would probably be picked up by Natsume, so maybe… better not.
That guy's intuition sometimes bordered on the absurd—more accurate than some Psychic-type legendaries.
Sometimes Mew honestly wasn't sure who was the real Psychic-type Pokémon here.
Still watching the warm little cakes steaming in front of him, Natsume reached out to pinch a piece—only to predictably jerk back, scalded by the heat.
"Mew, cool this for me, will you?"
Retracting his hand, Natsume looked over at Mew.
Mew glanced at the hand he'd just pulled back, then remembered the time Natsume had subdued a raging, fire-spewing Houndoom barehanded.
Mew said nothing in the end. Instead, it gently blew a puff of cold air over the small cake he'd touched.
The chill instantly pulled the heat away, leaving the little cake at just the right temperature.
That should do it—shouldn't be too hot now.
"I'll try it."
Natsume picked up the now-warm piece of cake and popped it in his mouth.
The moment he bit down, he first felt the slight crisp of the outer layer. Then the soft, fluffy interior began to melt in his mouth like clouds. The sweetness was just right—not cloying, but with a hint of natural fragrance that made it subtly addictive…
Okay, Natsume couldn't keep bullshitting.
Yes, the cake really was good. But not that exaggerated.
Besides, Natsume's literary skills weren't nearly up to crafting that kind of gourmet-level description.
He'd seen that kind of copy on a food delivery app once. Probably a paid review.
In the end, Natsume offered the most honest reaction he could:
"Delicious."
Coming from Natsume, that was about as high praise as it got.
Any more than that, and he really would've been forcing it.
"Mew!"
I wanna try too!
Lifting a small cake with telekinesis, Mew cooled it down using the same trick.
But just as it was about to take a bite, another piece—this one lifted by vines—floated right up in front of it.
Mew locked eyes with Serperior for a few seconds.
And then gave in.
"Mew!"
Fine!
With a grumble, it cooled down that cake as well before returning to its own and taking a grumpy bite.
Ugh, why does everyone think I'm easygoing?!
I'm supposed to be a proud and majestic legendary, you know!
"How is it?"
Having taken off her apron and gloves, Mei looked eagerly at Mew and Serperior.
As expected, she was met with enthusiastic approval from both.
Seeing her little cakes receive unanimous praise, Mei couldn't hold back a grin.
"These took me over half a month to perfect."
"It's my first time actually making them, but I've memorized every single step by heart."
Lifting her chin proudly, Mei beamed.
For someone who wasn't exactly a pro in the kitchen, pulling this off was no small feat.
You really had to give it to her—she'd put in the work.
"This cake…"
With pride practically bubbling over, Mei launched into a full explanation of the ingredients and steps involved.
However…
"Hey! Save some for me!"
"Mew!"
"Ser!"
Under the night sky, warm light spilled through the glass, casting shadows of their laughter and play across the ground.
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Read advanced chapters ahead of everyone else on my P@treon.
P@treon/GodDragcell