Weekend over, Luke was back at Metro City University for class. The Piplup Cup quarterfinals were set for Wednesday afternoon — though Luke himself seemed entirely unbothered. Bob, on the other hand, was orbiting him anxiously.
"Brother Luke, are you actually ready for this?"
"The quarterfinal field is stacked with legit talent this round, you cannot afford to slack off!"
Luke laughed. "Relax, I've got it handled."
Daniel elbowed Bob, teasing. "Why are you more stressed than the guy actually competing?"
"It's not even your match, and knowing Brother Luke, he's probably been secretly training this whole time anyway."
"Same thing happened during finals — swore up and down he wasn't studying, then turned out to be the guy quietly living in the library." Daniel adjusted a pair of glasses he wasn't wearing, radiating smug certainty. "The truth reveals itself eventually."
Luke's expression twisted. Damn it. I DID train yesterday. There's no clean way to argue against that.
Word of Luke's Saturday advancement had only spread to most of the class today, and people were now looking at him with a distinctly suspicious sort of admiration.
Top student, good-looking, apparently also elite at Pokémon battling? Something about this doesn't add up.
"Classmate Luke is actually kind of insane, huh."
"Yeah, and he's the only non-Fighting-Department student left in the Top 8."
______________________________
Morning class belonged to Professor Collins — the one who'd sent Luke that congratulatory smiling emoji. Rarely one to smile in person, he stepped up to the podium and the lecture hall fell instantly silent.
Clearing his throat, he called out, "Luke — someone's here for you. You won't be marked absent."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. At the door stood a middle-aged man in a crisp white shirt, composed and polished, offering an apologetic nod.
"Wait, isn't that Coach Whitman from the school team?"
"Which team, basketball or soccer?"
"Are you kidding? Pokémon battling, obviously."
Under a wave of curious stares, Luke stepped out, thoroughly confused. I haven't done anything wrong lately, right? Why's someone pulling me out of class?
The man nodded once he stepped into the hallway. "You're Luke? Let's talk next door."
In an empty classroom, he got straight to it. "I'm Coach Whitman — I run the school's Pokémon Battling team. I'm here to offer you a spot."
If Luke's win over Elena could be brushed off as a fluke, his run to the Piplup Cup quarterfinals was a different story entirely. Municipal event or not, the tournament's regional standing was practically provincial-tier given the location — breaking through this field said something real about his ceiling.
Whitman had come armed with a full pitch prepared: an introduction letter toward an official Trainer certification, the possibility of a future graduate recommendation, the works.
Luke's opening line derailed all of it instantly.
"I'm sorry, Coach," Luke said, scratching his head. "I don't have any interest in becoming a Trainer. I sort of accidentally ended up registered for this tournament — didn't expect to make the quarterfinals either, honestly, just got lucky."
Whitman opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "...You're not planning to be a Trainer?"
Luke nodded, completely sincere.
"And you STILL made the quarterfinals?"
"Total accident."
"What about the story going around about you beating Elena?"
Luke laughed it off, awkward. "Her Granbull wasn't at its best that day. I got lucky."
Whitman went quiet for a moment. The video someone had forwarded him — Luke tearing Elena apart with pre-read after pre-read — was honestly the bigger reason he'd come at all.
Someone with that level of tactical instinct has zero interest in being a Trainer? Is something wrong with him, or is something wrong with me?
"Well. If you're not interested in the team, I won't push it." Whitman shook his head, a helpless smile forming. "Just work on a better excuse for next time, because Director Hayes over in the Fighting Department has also got his eye on you."
"He wants me on the team too?" Luke asked, surprised.
"No. He wants you to transfer departments entirely."
"Ah, that I'm used to." Luke smiled. Ranked top three in his major and year, the Econ department had already been fighting to keep him — and Rowan's letter of introduction was still sitting untouched in a drawer at home. Luke wasn't against switching majors on principle. He just hadn't found the right reason to actually do it yet.
______________________________
Classes wrapped for the day. Walking off campus, Luke passed a Piplup Cup promotional poster plastered along the street.
[Battle for the Final Four! Piplup Cup Quarterfinals Kick Off Wednesday Evening!]
He'd asked Bob earlier about the rest of the quarterfinal field: three from Metro City University, three from Crestwood University, one from Union Tech, and one out of Metro City University's affiliated high school. All prestigious names, unsurprisingly — the built-in class divide among Trainers made it genuinely rare for anyone outside the major programs to break through this far. And most of this crop would likely go pro afterward — official Trainer path, Gym challenges, eventually gunning for a League seat.
"Not worth it," Luke muttered, shaking his head. "Those guys are built different. Actual freaks of nature."
Red had won the Kanto League after just one year as a Trainer. Blue had done the exact same thing — beaten by Red a mere half hour later in the finals. Even Gold, endlessly roasted in the group chat, was genuinely Master-tier underneath the memes.
Not that any of it weighed on Luke. As long as I stay a certified do-nothing, nobody can actually beat me at that game.
______________________________
Back home, Gastly was glued to the TV — some program called National League: Master-Tier Tour — fully locked in, nodding along occasionally, pencil in mouth, scribbling notes.
"Kojie kojie!" — got it, completely understood!
Luke smiled and filmed a quick clip to share in the group chat.
Over at the Viridian Gym, Blue — fresh off dispatching a challenger, toweling sweat off his shoulders — opened the video.
"Gastly's genuinely well-conditioned," he murmured. "Takes Master-tier Pokéblock to get results like this." He paused. "Judging by the coloring, though... is it working on Toxic right now?"
Yellow: wait is something wrong with Gastly?!
Teacher Luke: No, my Gastly's just adorable, wanted to share
Yellow: ehehe, fair (′▽`〃)
Blue: Based on its condition, it's not far from evolving.
That caught Luke's attention. Two months since catching Gastly, sure — but it hadn't exactly been a newly hatched Pokémon to start with. Between the Toxic training and everything else it had absorbed, evolution was genuinely on the table now.
Problem was, this was Luke's first time raising a Pokémon at all, and evolution apparently required real prep work beforehand. Never one to fake knowledge he didn't have, Luke asked outright.
Teacher Luke: How do I actually evolve Gastly?