Early Wednesday morning, a delivery Pelipper arrived at Luke's door, a neatly wrapped package tucked in its pouch-like beak, sealed in waterproof film.
Layer after layer of packaging later, it turned out to be — an ordinary rock. Luke felt vaguely scammed.
"Kojie?" Gastly, undeterred by the anticlimax, instinctively licked the Everstone anyway. Whatever it is, give it a taste first — standard procedure.
The school had granted Luke a special day off for the tournament — not that he'd particularly wanted it, given how much he preferred studying to watching sports. His counselor had shut that argument down fast.
"Observing live matches is basically a required course for aspiring Trainers, I don't want to hear it."
"But—"
"No buts. If you're pursuing the Trainer path, I am fully behind you." A pointed cough. "Leave slip's already approved. Go watch your match."
Luke sighed and gave up, taking Gastly with him to the arena.
His own match wasn't until evening — the other eight quarterfinalists would fight it out over the course of the afternoon first. As an active competitor, Luke got to sit right at fieldside, essentially VIP seating.
The sun was brutal. Luke sat in the stands wearing sunglasses, one arm draped over the back of his chair, a cold drink in the other hand. Gastly had its own seat too, an Everstone tied to its forehead with string.
As for why it wasn't hung around Gastly's neck instead — Gastly doesn't have a neck.
"Hiss-ka!!" Gastly poked its head forward and took a long pull of iced cola through a straw, letting out a satisfied groan afterward. It nodded emphatically, and the sunglasses perched on its forehead slid down to cover its eyes properly.
"Kojie!"
Floating in front of it, Green's evolution data hovered, suspended in a thin layer of Haze. Gastly, shades on, radiated the energy of someone very important reviewing very important documents, nodding occasionally as it read.
"Hiss-jie~~" — ahh, so THAT'S how it works~~
Luke glanced over. "You're honestly kind of a genius, kid."
"Kojie!"
"Um, excuse me—"
Someone tapped Luke carefully from the row behind, voice trembling with barely restrained excitement.
"Are you — are you Teacher Luke?"
Luke turned, cautious. "Depends what you're here for."
"I'm a fan! Could I get an autograph?"
He relaxed. "Sure. Pen?"
For his own peace of mind, Luke usually kept his identity quiet in public — his tactics had earned him a reputation dirty enough that recognition sometimes felt more risk than reward.
The girl watched him sign, practically vibrating with excitement, words tumbling out half-formed.
"I'm — I'm actually your junior, from Metro City University's affiliated high school! My match is coming up soon, could you — could you maybe cheer for me?"
Luke pushed his sunglasses down, looking her over — and it clicked. Bob's earlier mention of a talented junior from the affiliated school.
"Hannah, right?" He smiled. "Good luck out there."
Her eyes went wide, and she shot upright, bowing deep. "I'll make it to the final four, I promise!"
Right then, a wave of gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Both competitors showing serious skill out there!" the commentator called.
On the field, Elena's match against Crestwood University's Owen was underway. Granbull lunged; Magneton dissolved out of the way, dodging Fire Fang clean, then unleashed three beams of Magnet Pulse in return. A devastatingly precise Mirror Shot locked Granbull up entirely, and it dropped to the ground, thoroughly defeated.
"Granbull is unable to battle!" the referee called. "Winner: Crestwood University's Owen!"
"He's genuinely good," Luke said, impressed. Owen — heir to an Electric-type Gym lineage, rumored to already carry professional Trainer-level strength — had just become the tournament's first confirmed semifinalist.
Next up was Hannah, facing off against a Graveler. Her Breloom opened with a barrage of Bullet Seed and closed it out almost instantly.
"Guess she really is a fan," Luke murmured. "She actually built her team around a Breloom."
Up in the judges' box, Wesley Tanner — Gym Leader of Metro City's Psychic Gym — leaned over to murmur to Chairman Preston of the City Pokémon Association.
"Lot of new Grass-type Trainers popping up this year."
Preston considered it. "Might be tied to how popular Substitute-Protect-Toxic has gotten."
Wesley blinked. "Isn't that strategy notoriously hard to pull off?"
"You are clearly not keeping up with the times," Preston laughed. "My granddaughter tells me it's the single most-watched strategy on YouTube right now."
Wesley shook his head. "Not my world, honestly. Anyway — next match is Jordan, from Union Tech."
"His Swellow's carrying a real edge in this tournament."
"Wait — he's up against Luke?" Preston scanned the bracket in his hand, surprised. "That's a brutal matchup for Luke."
Swellow came with natural immunity to Ghost-type attacks, and paired with the Guts ability, Gastly's signature Will-O-Wisp would barely register as an inconvenience. Whatever came next promised to be one-sided, and not in Luke's favor.
"Shame. I was hoping for one more upset out of him," Preston said, genuinely a little disappointed.
"A non-professional making the Top 8 already rewrote the record books," Wesley said, laughing. "Personally, I'm keeping my eye on Tyler and his Ivysaur instead."
______________________________
The sun slid lower as dusk approached. Elena, despite her loss, hadn't left — she stood near the contestant bench, hesitating visibly.
"You lost, didn't you?" Luke asked, surprised. "Why are you still here?"
"To... cheer you on," she said quietly.
Outside of Hannah, Luke was the last Metro City University competitor still standing in the whole tournament — a testament to just how deep this field ran. Not that Luke felt the weight of it much; Gastly had carried him through the qualifiers and group stage well enough on its own.
Luke stood, tucking his sunglasses into his jacket pocket. "Alright. We're up."
"Kojie!" Gastly drained the last of its cola in one gulp, crammed the remaining burger into its mouth, and gave a muffled nod.
Elena stared, thoroughly baffled. They brought cola and a burger to a tournament match. Are they competing or having a picnic?
"Next match: Jordan of Union Tech University, versus Luke of Metro City University!"
The commentator's voice boomed. "Worth noting — Luke remains the tournament's only non-Fighting-Department competitor, and he's already set the best record in the event's history!"
"Does his run end here, or does he keep climbing? Let's find out!"
Jordan — dark-skinned, lean, quietly intense — gave Luke a short nod. Luke, reading the room correctly, decided against any trash talk this round. Swellow, nicknamed "the Bug Swallower," was no joke if it hit its stride.
"Kojie!" Gastly floated onto the field with menace, shaking its head with style, sunglasses flying off dramatically.
Jordan pulled his Poké Ball free, voice low and even. "Go, Swellow."