Judging by the raw power behind that Garchomp, the opponent had almost certainly equipped a Life Orb. Without a Gengarite in the game to work with, though, Luke had gone with a Focus Sash instead.
In-game, Focus Sash guaranteed survival at 1 HP against an otherwise fatal hit. Translated into reality, it meant scraping by on nothing but stubbornness.
Gengar, visibly pale, spat a headband out of its enormous mouth with a startled "oops," then wrapped it around its own forehead with shaking claws. Fire lit up behind its eyes, and just like that, it was back in the fight.
"I complain about this cutscene every single time," Luke sighed. "There's an actual real-world equivalent to this move?!"
In genuine matches, Trainers went to real lengths to keep opponents from clocking what items their Pokémon were carrying — tucking a Life Orb somewhere out of view, or dressing up a Disguise item as part of a costume so it wouldn't stand out. For something like Gengar, whose stomach practically defied physics, Luke figured smuggling four or five Sitrus Berries onto the field wouldn't even be a stretch.
Too dirty a move for his conscience to allow, though. Probably.
Would the referee even bother counting how many items a Pokémon's carrying, though? ...Might be worth testing next time.
Back in the match, the countdown on Garchomp's forehead dipped under a minute, and Cynthia unleashed a full-force assault to close it out. Gengar weathered the storm with nothing but Protect, Protect, Protect, stretching the clock down to the final ten seconds.
Ten!
Nine!
"Garchomp, Dragon Claw!"
"Gengar, Double Team!"
A jade-green claw tore through the air; Gengar slipped clear with Double Team, pulling a face and sticking out its tongue for good measure.
Five!
Four!
Cynthia's brow furrowed as she tried to recall Garchomp mid-air — too late. A shadow spread out from beneath Gengar's feet, dozens of grasping arms erupting from the darkness to seize Garchomp and hold it in place, blocking the recall entirely.
The countdown hit zero. Garchomp, will to fight completely spent, let out a lazy yawn and drifted out of the sky.
The system called the match for Luke.
"WAIT. Mean Look plus Perish Song?!"
"So the opponent literally can't switch out either??"
"There's an actual move for this?!"
"Teacher Luke, does this actually work in real battles?"
Luke considered it for a second. "In theory, yeah. Perish Song's a mental attack — if the target's will to fight breaks, that's still a legitimate loss in an official match. Kind of like Attract and infatuation, honestly, in terms of how sneaky it is."
"But once it's locked in, all you've got left to do is Protect, Protect, Protect."
The chat exploded. Viewership blew past a million, then kept climbing as the new strategy's novelty sank in, eventually cresting two million.
"Okay I get it now, I'm going straight to challenge a Gym Leader with this"
"That's THREE original strategies from Teacher Luke now, right??"
An average Master-tier Trainer running two distinct strategies competently was already impressive — most Trainers got locked into one team archetype and never really broke out of it. Teacher Luke had rolled out three inside two months and handed every single one over for free.
"This man is a saint."
"Teacher Luke, god of dirty tactics, confirmed once again."
Gift notifications kept climbing, and Luke checked the system readout.
[Live viewership broke 2 million for the first time! BP+1000!]
[...]
[Brilliant command execution! BP+200]
[Remaining BP: 5780]
Clearing over 2000 BP in a single night was more than Luke had expected — though on reflection, it made sense. This was probably the first time a Perish Song team had ever been demonstrated so publicly and so effectively. Sure, plenty of real Trainers ran Perish Song setups, but none of them had a livestream reach anywhere close to his. And the current haul was just the immediate return; once the edited video went up and word kept spreading, exchanging for that Protect TM was just a matter of time now.
He glanced over at Gastly, who was staring, transfixed, at Gengar's dazzling on-screen performance — drooling slightly.
Luke poked it gently. "Don't worry. Someday, you'll get to be this dirty too."
"Kojie!"
He turned back to the camera, clearing his throat. "Alright, that's it for tonight."
"If you haven't subscribed yet, now's the time — see you all tomorrow!"
He ended the stream almost instantly, leaving a trail of confused question marks and a wall of loyal fans in the chat log.
"EVERYONE UP"
"tears in my eyes rn"
"bye Teacher Luke!!"
______________________________
Cynthia stared at the word "DEFEAT" on her screen, genuinely surprised.
She pulled the tie out of her hair and let it spill loose across the pillow as she flopped back onto the bed, tossing the controller aside.
"Hm."
If this were a real battle, my Garchomp would've turned that Gengar into confetti ten times over. Still — even set against reality, Perish Song had real merit as a strategy. Morty, the Ghost-type Gym Leader of Ecruteak City back in Johto, swore by it. And Lorelei, the Ice-type Elite Four member out of the Sevii Islands, built her entire Perish Song core around her Lapras and Dewgong, on top of her signature Ice-type mastery.
Guess pokémon: battle just can't fully replicate the real thing.
Losing still stung a little, though. Sighing, she picked up her phone, half-intending to complain to Diantha about it — but Professor Rowan's call came through first.
"New batch of inscriptions just turned up in Eterna City. Stop by the museum when you get a chance."
"How was the trip to the Orient region?"
"Finished up. Extremely productive, actually." Rowan sounded genuinely pleased. "The scholarship coming out of the Orient region right now is remarkable — strong academic culture across the board there."
"Actually, funny story — I offered a student an assistant position on this trip. He turned me down."
Cynthia blinked. "Didn't you swear off taking on any more assistants?"
As Sinnoh's foremost Pokémon scholar, Rowan had spent years fending off people desperate to study under him — enough that he'd publicly declared he was done taking students. And now he'd actually offered, unprompted — and been refused?
Rowan sighed. "He's done some serious work on Sinnoh mythology. I thought he might be useful to you, honestly. But he's not interested in research, and even less interested in becoming a Trainer."
Cynthia smiled. "People want what they want, I suppose."
She understood that better than most — she'd defied her own grandmother's wishes to set out on her Sinnoh League journey, driven by nothing but genuine love for Pokémon and battling. Everyone deserved the right to chase their own path; that much she'd never doubted.
"Perhaps." Rowan shook his head, moving on. "What's your schedule looking like?"
"Type Masters Tournament's in Eterna City this December — I'm judging."
Rowan nodded, then paused. "Wait. Are you telling me you're taking a three-month vacation before that?"
"Sorry Professor, my battery's dying, I've got to go," Cynthia said vaguely, and hung up.
She set the phone down and pulled the game back up. Replaying the earlier match in her head for a moment, she hit Add Friend.