Luke, still sitting in class, stared blankly at a screen full of system notifications.
[Earned admiration from onlookers: BP+1, BP+1, BP+1...]
[Excellent tactical command! BP+10]
[Interrupted Quilava's Flash Fire! BP+20]
[First victory achieved — rating: Splendid! (BP+100)]
[Remaining BP: 575]
He hadn't done a single thing, and somehow three hundred BP had shown up out of nowhere. It was almost embarrassing.
"Did the system glitch?" Luke muttered.
His phone buzzed. Bob, apparently, had a lot of feelings to express — mostly in question marks.
Bob: Brother Luke you're INSANE
Bob: you didn't even tell me you signed up?? And you just casually beat a Fighting Department kid??
Luke: I was literally sitting in class the whole time
Bob: oh my god you're still playing it cool??
Bob: wait... this wasn't all part of some plan, was it?
By that point, most of the day's participants had already heard about the Field 7 incident — some unknown competitor whose Pokémon had crushed a Fighting Department opponent entirely on its own, without a single command. That kind of independence didn't come cheap; it meant hours upon hours of quietly building up a Pokémon's battle instincts, while everyone else was still fumbling over move power. Most Superior Trainers couldn't even manage that.
Word going around was that Gastly had worn an expression the whole time that basically said is that all you've got? — and its Trainer hadn't even bothered showing up. To the reporters, that only sealed it: this mystery Trainer was the dark horse of the entire tournament.
Bob went quiet for a second, like something had just clicked into place.
Bob: wait. dodging the interviews was part of the plan too, wasn't it
Luke: ???
Bob: I'm a believer now. Brother Luke, when you make it big, don't forget me
Luke set the phone down, thoroughly lost. What is even happening right now. He didn't want to be a Trainer — so why would he enter a Trainer competition?
His phone buzzed again. This time, an unfamiliar number.
[ID: 3534, Mr. Luke — you have a new competition update]
[Congratulations on advancing to Group A of the Piplup Rookie Trainer Cup group stage!]
[Please report to Field No. 4 this Saturday. We wish you the best of luck!]
Luke sat frozen. Group stage? I didn't even go to the prelims.
Then it hit him — that smug little Gastly this morning, the one that couldn't quite hold back its own creepy giggling.
It secretly entered the competition. And it won. Without me saying a single word.
Something in his chest genuinely ached.
This — this right here — is a full-on backstab.
Digging through his phone's trash folder, Luke found it: the registration confirmation text, deleted. Not only had Gastly signed up behind his back, it had apparently wanted to surprise him — and covered its tracks in the process.
Luke put on his sternest face and sat waiting for the late-returning Gastly.
"Kojie!" — I'm home!
A ghostly face poked through the crack in the door, and the rest of Gastly's body whooshed in after it.
"Ching-ching-ching!" — behold, your magnificent champion returns.
Luke kept his voice cold. "Why are you back so late?"
Gastly just grinned wider, shaking the contestant badge still looped around its head like a trophy.
"You went to the prelims today?"
"Kojie!"
"And won?"
"Kojie~~!"
"I heard it wasn't even close."
Gastly: (*≧▽≦)~~!!
That familiar wave of exhaustion crept back into Luke's chest. He sighed and sank into the couch. He really, genuinely did not want to be a Trainer. So why did his own Gastly keep dragging him toward it — training moves on its own, and now apparently registering for tournaments on its own too?
For anyone else, this would've been the start of a dream. For Luke, it felt like a betrayal with extra steps. He couldn't even scrape together easy money, and now he had a tournament to think about?
Still, looking at how proud and delighted Gastly looked, Luke didn't have it in him to shut that down. He forced a smile. "You did really well."
"Keep it up."
"Kojie!" Gastly beamed.
Luke leaned back, palms pressed to his forehead, thinking it through. The Piplup Cup carried some real weight across the whole province — but the prelims were a mixed bag, and Gastly's win could easily have been a fluke. The group stage would put it up against genuinely strong competitors from real Pokémon academies. Rather than throw effort at something that probably wouldn't pan out, his time was better spent on streaming.
It felt a little unfair to Gastly, sure. But if it lost early, maybe the tournament fever would burn off on its own.
In the end, Luke decided he wasn't showing up for the group stage either.
"Give it everything you've got in the group stage," he said, all business. "I won't be there — not until the finals, if you even make it that far." He kept his tone confident. "The group stage shouldn't be a problem for you. Think of it as sharpening your instincts. A real test."
Gastly froze, then opened its mouth wide, eyes practically burning.
"Kojie!"
Master trusts me. If he believes in me this much, then all I have to do is train hard, and the finals are as good as mine.
It glanced toward the cupboard, toward the three remaining Petaya Berry blocks, and its expression turned dead serious — the kind of look usually reserved for facing down a genuine threat. It left Luke more unsettled than reassured.
It's not actually going to make the finals... right?
No. It's barely been training a month. Even stacking Petaya blocks, Speed Enhancers, and fire stones on top of each other — that's not enough to outclass kids who've been training for years.
...Probably.
The next match was Saturday — three days out. To keep Gastly from burning any more walls down, Luke quietly gave it the green light to train outside instead.
That night, moonlight spilled through the window screen. Luke woke to find the ceiling empty — Gastly long gone.
He wandered to the windowsill and looked out toward the construction site next door.
[Clairvoyance Lv1 check: 79. Success!]
Out on the site, clusters of Will-O-Wisp flared and dimmed against the purple-red sky, blurring into the night. The wind picked up. Luke leaned against the sill and watched in silence.
About two hours later, the firelight finally died down.
A rustle came from the door. Luke slipped back into bed and shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Gastly drifted quietly into the room, gave his cheek one soft lick, then floated back up to the ceiling and started snoring almost immediately.
Luke's mouth curved into a small smile, and he let out a quiet breath.