Teacher Luke was, at this exact moment, in a state of pure panic.
Not mild concern. Full panic.
At eight that morning, right as he was getting ready to head to campus, he got a message from the actual World Champion.
Red: Morning.
Luke: ...Boss Red, just tell me what you need.
Red: What's your address? I need to send you something.
Luke froze. Send me something? It's not razor blades, is it? I've only been off stream for three days.
Finals were bearing down on him, and the academic pressure had forced Luke to shelve streaming for the moment — that, and the small matter of keeping a constant eye on Gastly to make sure its self-directed training didn't burn the apartment down again.
What kind of situation is this, even? Every other Trainer's biggest problem is getting their Pokémon to train at all. Mine's the opposite. Mine trains ME.
While Luke was busy sighing about his life choices, Red sent another message.
Red:(image)
The photo showed an ornately sealed scroll, radiating something Luke couldn't quite name.
Red: Mr. Koga asked me to pass this along to you.
Koga?
Luke paused, and an image surfaced in his head — a masked ninja. The former Poison-type Gym Leader of Kanto, who'd clawed his way to a seat on Johto's Elite Four over three grueling years, riding entirely on the strength of his uncanny Poison-types. Not someone whose attention you wanted.
Luke: Boss Red, seriously, you can just keep it. You don't need to send it my way.
Red: No can do — this is Mr. Koga's personal Toxic Experience, years in the making. He specifically wanted it returned as a favor to you.
Luke went blank.
Toxic Experience? THE Poison-type Elite's personal Toxic Experience?
If Gastly trains with this and I mess up even once, I'm dead. Not figuratively.
A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Hands shaking, he typed back.
Luke: When did I ever do him a favor?
Red: Your "Minimize Team" strategy... it inspired him, apparently.
Red had gone back and watched Luke's video himself after the fact. In the Champion's eyes, the Minimize approach still had real gaps if you actually tried it in a live fight — but Koga had found an angle around that, leaning into sheer numbers to patch the weaknesses. Even Red had to admit the logic checked out: a few hundred, a few thousand shrunken Pokémon ambushing at once, and even an Elite Four member could find themselves in real trouble.
"Let's just hope Team Rocket never gets their hands on this," Red muttered to himself. Giovanni was still missing, sure, but plenty of smaller criminal remnants were still active worldwide — chasing them down was practically a standing job requirement for the Champion and Elite Four.
Meanwhile, Luke was spiraling.
I inspired an Elite Four member? I'm not even a certified Trainer, and I'm out here teaching an actual Elite-level Trainer new tricks?
"I'm kind of amazing," Luke muttered to himself, mostly to cope.
Red: Anyway, a courier will deliver the scroll to your place.
Red: I figure this'll be a good chance to level up your Substitute-Protect-Toxic strategy too. (smile)
Red didn't know Luke's actual skill level, but figured anyone capable of inspiring Elite Four Koga couldn't possibly be ordinary. If anything, this Toxic Experience felt like exactly the push Teacher Luke needed to reach the next tier.
Fighting strong opponents really is the best part of this, Red thought, fist clenching, something like fire flickering behind his eyes.
If Luke had any idea Red now considered him a legitimate rival, he probably would've packed his bags and left the country that night. But for now, he just set his phone down, thoroughly bewildered.
"Substitute-Protect-Toxic... just needed the Protect piece, huh."
He'd mocked Gastly's version of the combo as a broken knockoff not too long ago. And now, half a month later, Gastly hadn't just nailed Substitute — it had landed a Poison-type Elite's personal Toxic mastery on top of it?
This wasn't a broken version anymore. This was a full glow-up.
Which, naturally, also filled Luke with dread.
"If I let Gastly train Toxic on its own... am I actually going to die this time?"
A Toxic Experience straight from a Poison-type Elite was easily worth a million dollars on its own. Reselling it, though, would almost certainly get him quietly murdered by Koga before sunrise. Which left exactly one option: hand it over to Gastly and hope for the best.
"Why does everyone keep mailing me TMs," Luke muttered, exasperated. "If you don't want it, just give it to someone who does!"
Complaints aside, he sent Red his address anyway — turning down a multi-million-dollar Experience just wasn't realistic.
The address itself caught Red off guard.
Metro City?
Well. Given what this guy's apparently capable of, being a Metro City Gym Leader wouldn't even be surprising.
______________________________
That night, a Dragonite that had flown clear across the ocean touched down right outside Luke's building, drawing gasps from every direction.
"Holy — a Dragonite?! Never seen one in person before!"
Under a small crowd of onlookers, Luke stepped forward and took the scroll from Dragonite's stubby little claw — and quietly slipped it two Pokéblocks in return.
Dragonite checked the photo on its delivery slip against Luke's face, glanced back at him, then happily tossed both blocks into its mouth.
Dragonite: (′▽`〃)
If the police hadn't shown up when they did, the Dragonite — now hugging Luke tight enough to lift him off the ground and refusing to let go — probably would've cracked a rib.
"I genuinely don't know how Ash survives these hugs," Luke wheezed, rubbing his bruised chest. "Being a Trainer is way too dangerous for me."
After confirming with Red, repeatedly, that this was all actually safe, Luke retreated to his room and unrolled the ornate scroll across the table.
Unlike video-based TMs, these paper Experiences worked differently — they tested comprehension, both the Trainer's and the Pokémon's. A mismatch in temperament could make even a technically-learnable move impossible to master.
Comprehension wasn't what worried Luke. Gastly, he trusted completely.
His own physical survival was another matter.
"Gligar's tail venom. Beedrill's stinger extract. Drapion's glands..." Luke read down the ingredient list, sweat beading at his temples. Every single item on it was lethally toxic. Just picturing these things sitting in his apartment made him shudder.
The further down the list he read, the paler he got.
"Two hundred thousand for Black Sludge. Two MILLION for a Toxic Orb—" Luke let out a wounded groan. "Is this a training regimen or a money-laundering scheme?!"
He glanced over at Gastly — eyes shining, tongue already halfway out, practically vibrating with the excitement of a kid who'd just found a new toy.
"You are not licking any of this," Luke said, torn. "What if there's actual poison in—" He paused. "...Right. You're Poison-type. Never mind."
Even so, letting Gastly train Toxic completely unsupervised was, without exaggeration, a genuinely suicidal idea. This wasn't a video game — real Poison-type training came with real, life-threatening risk. Will-O-Wisp training had nearly torched his apartment. Toxic training was an entirely different category of disaster, and Luke didn't even want to imagine the ceiling on that one.
He looked down at the priceless Toxic Experience sitting on his table — an enormous DANGER label practically screaming up at him — and wiped the cold sweat off his brow.
"I really, genuinely did not want this."