"For this afternoon's specialized course, I'd like you to serve as my interpreter," Professor Rowan said.
Luke glanced at the interpreter standing beside Professor Rowan — his academic counselor. Isn't there already an interpreter?
The counselor mouthed across the room, silent but unmistakable: What are you standing there for? Say yes!
Guidance from a Pokémon professor was worth more than gold, and the counselor wanted nothing more than to see Luke get a chance to shine.
"It's like this," Professor Rowan said, clearing his throat. "Mr. Reed's Japanese is more than good enough — there are just a few technical terms I'd like to go over in detail."
Luke had made a strong impression on him during class, and the professor found himself wanting to know more about the young man. With that, Luke nodded and followed Professor Rowan to the next lecture.
"Think you could put in a word for a few extra credits?" Luke murmured to the counselor beside him.
"You brat — seize the moment and you could get recommended straight to Tokyo University!"
Luke curled his lip. "Tokyo University's nothing special. If I wanted a graduate recommendation, I'd have transferred to Finance years ago."
The counselor's mouth twitched. For once, he couldn't think of a comeback.
By that afternoon, rumors about Luke had spread across the entire grade.
"That guy interpreting for Professor Rowan is handsome!"
"Are you blind? That's Luke, top student in Finance!"
"You didn't hear? Professor Rowan misspoke earlier and Luke corrected him mid-translation!"
"I heard Rowan asked him to be his grad student and Luke turned him down!"
"Luke turns down a postgrad recommendation? Who does that?!"
"And it was for the Pokémon Academy — the flagship program!"
"That's a once-in-a-lifetime shot at becoming a Trainer!"
The rumors weren't exaggerating. Professor Rowan's invitation had real weight behind it. By the end of his visit, he was still turning over just how sharp the students at Metro City University were. But it was one young man in particular — equal parts character and knowledge — who'd left the strongest impression.
"Luke, huh," Rowan murmured to himself, remembering the reason Luke gave for turning him down. A rare smile crossed the usually stern professor's face.
"Doesn't want to be a Trainer? Fine. A researcher's chair at my institute would suit him just as well." He sighed. "Aside from Cynthia, I've never met a young scholar with that kind of grasp on history."
Cynthia — Champion of the Sinnoh region — had once been an assistant researcher at Rowan's institute, and was herself something of a historian. Remembering how confidently Luke had spoken about the Sinnoh legends earlier, Rowan murmured, "The two of them would probably get along."
Once he'd settled his thoughts, Rowan wrote out a letter by hand and passed it to the interpreter at his side.
"Mr. Reed, would you see that this gets to Luke." He nodded to himself. "If Tokyo University doesn't interest him, I could put in a recommendation for Celadon University instead."
The counselor stared at the letter, disbelief creeping over him. Celadon University was hallowed ground to Trainers the world over — its Pokémon Academy and Business School had produced legends like Professor Oak and Devon Corporation's President Stone. In the world rankings, Celadon sat shoulder to shoulder with the Ivy League, and its Pokémon program often outranked them outright.
The counselor could hardly contain himself. "I'll get it to him right away!"
"Pass along one more thing for me," Rowan said, smiling. "Tell him my institute's doors are open to him whenever he's ready."
In a single afternoon, Luke had left an impression on Professor Rowan that wouldn't fade — his knowledge, and especially his insight into Pokémon evolution, was enough to leave the old professor genuinely marveling. Meanwhile, word about the "top student" kept spreading through Metro City University like wildfire.
Back in the dorm, Daniel elbowed Luke, practically bouncing. "Bro, what did the old man even ask you?"
"Milotic's evolution." Luke said it like it was nothing. "And his take on the Red Gyarados phenomenon."
"Holy crap, you knew the answer to something that hard?!"
"Holy crap, you don't know the answer to something that easy?!"
Luke frowned. Weren't those things common knowledge? Did people in this world actually treat them like cutting-edge research topics?
Just then, a knock came at the door — the counselor, asking Luke to step outside.
"Letter of recommendation. From Professor Rowan." The counselor swallowed hard. "And take a good look — this isn't some safety school like Tokyo University. This is Celadon. The holy land."
The moment Luke heard the word Trainer, he set the letter back down without even opening it.
"It's not that I don't want to go to Celadon," Luke said solemnly. "I just love it here at Metro City too much to leave."
"Oh, give me a break." The counselor was losing patience. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime shot at becoming a Trainer!"
"I mean it." Luke somehow managed to look sincere — even conjured a few tears. "I love this school."
The counselor looked ready to spit on him. He shoved the letter into Luke's hands and gritted his teeth. "Fine. Do whatever you want."
Luke looked down at the neat handwriting, sighed, folded the letter, and tucked it into his pocket.
Back in the dorm, Daniel was hunched over his copy of Criminal Law, absently rubbing at his receding hairline. "Hey, why'd you turn down Rowan's recommendation anyway?"
Luke glanced at the textbook. "Because I'd like to keep living."
Trainers were bad enough. Researchers were the only career Luke feared more. Case in point: Professor Oak, the face of the entire industry, had nearly been smothered to death by a Muk. Bill, the world's leading name in communications tech, once swapped bodies with a Rattata — his own personal Your Name. Professor Birch down in Hoenn got chased and bitten by a Zigzagoon on a near-daily basis.
This wasn't a cartoon. Get hit by a Thunderbolt in real life and you were dead. The evidence was right there in front of him. Which meant: no Trainers, and absolutely no researchers.
Bob — sharp-dressed, Trainer-obsessed, and forever flipping through his printed copy of the Pokémon Encyclopedia — looked up. "Hey, there's a Piplup Cup happening over in Riverbend. You thinking about signing up?"
"So I can go get demolished by Pokémon Academy kids?"
Daniel snorted. "Besides, he doesn't even have a Pokémon. What's he gonna compete with?"
"I've got a starter."
"Since when?!"
Luke pulled out a Poké Ball. Red light flared — and the temperature in the room dropped five degrees.
Bob, mid-search for registration details, looked up just in time to see a ghostly face leering out of his phone screen. He hit the floor.
"What the hell?! You scared the life out of me!"
Daniel doubled over laughing. "You're scared of a Gastly? Pathetic."
As if on cue, Gastly turned its head toward Bob, mouth stretching wide, tongue lolling out long and red, and gave him a smile that was somehow both friendly and deeply unsettling.
Bob went white as a sheet. "Man, Luke — this thing of yours is something else." He kept staring at it, though, and the fear didn't last. "It looks way stronger than the Gastly the Battle Department has next door."
"Gaaas!" Gastly grinned, eyes narrowing, and gave Bob a satisfied nod. Not bad for a rookie, kid.
Luke recalled it to its ball. "Alright, enough messing around. I've got a stream to run back at my place."
"Wait, so you're really not signing up?!"
"How many times do I have to say it — I don't want to be a Trainer."