The waiting room in the Fog Level of Pokémon Tech felt less like a training hall and more like a high-end corporate lobby. The air was climate-controlled to a perfect 22°C, and the walls were decorated with digital portraits of "Successful Graduates" who looked like they'd never seen a speck of dirt in their lives.
Joe stood by the door, checking his expensive Pokedex every thirty seconds. "According to her schedule, Gisele should be here any minute. She's very punctual. Efficiency is the first lesson of the Fog Level."
He looked at us, his chest puffing out with a defensive sort of pride. "Don't get the wrong idea because of my treadmill incident. Here at Tech, it's overall skill and theoretical mastery that determines success, not just one lucky battle. Honestly? Even though I'm the weakest student in my class, the simulation data suggests I'm still technically superior to a trainer with two badges."
Misty's face went from pale to a dangerous shade of "Gyarados-Rage" red. "Technically superior?! I have two badges! I am a Gym Leader!"
Joe adjusted his glasses, completely unfazed. "I'm familiar with the Cerulean Gym. On the Level 2 simulator, I usually beat your preferred Water Pokémon in under six turns. The mathematics of the type-matchups are quite clear."
Misty looked like she was about to summon a hurricane, but I just let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to deflate the tension in the room.
"I expected a lot of things from this place," I said, leaning against a pristine white pillar, "but I didn't expect the students to be so good at lying to themselves. Theoretical mastery is great, Joe, until you're in a real forest and a Beedrill doesn't care about your math."
I looked at the 'Wall of Fame' and smirked. "You know, I remember reading in the G-Pro archives that Bruno—yeah, that Bruno—actually studied here for a while."
Everyone froze. Ash's jaw dropped. "Wait, the Elite Four Bruno? The guy who looks like he could bench-press a Snorlax?"
"The very same," I nodded. "But he left midway. He realized that children learn in different ways, and this place... well, it wasn't for him. Everyone called him a loser when he dropped out. They said he couldn't handle the 'academic rigors.' Now look at him. He's one of the strongest Fighting-type masters in the world, and half the graduates on this wall are probably working in middle management at Silph Co."
Ash's eyes widened. "If someone like Bruno failed here, then this place isn't much at all, huh? It's like a gym for people who are afraid of getting their shoes dirty!"
Brock crossed his arms, nodding solemnly. "I mean, for future Professors, Joys, or Jennys, structured schools are okay. The basic battling classes all Kanto kids get are fine for the basics. But this? This is just ivory-tower ego."
Gary, who had been looking increasingly disappointed by the sterile atmosphere, finally spoke up. "Not all schools are worthless, Ashy-boy. My Gramps has a twin brother—Principal Oak in the Alola region. He runs a school that has produced some of the strongest Z-Move masters in the world. It's built on the bond between human and Pokémon, not treadmills and calculators."
"Yeah, right," I said, a nostalgic glint in my eyes as I thought about the distant, tropical region. "I've heard of that place. Someday, if I don't feel like traveling through the mud, I might just head to Alola. Occasional island trials, Malasadas for breakfast... seems like a fun year."
I paused, my mind drifting to a memory of a past life—of two prestigious academies built in the heart of Paldea. "But where I really want to go is Naranja or Uva Academy. Honestly, those are the best Pokémon schools in the world. They've raised Champions and Elite Fours, and the campus culture is actually... well, awesome. If I ever want to enjoy the 'high school life,' I'm going to Paldea."
Joe scoffed, looking at me with a mix of pity and exhaustion. "High school life? You think it's heaven? Trust me, Regina, it's not as much of a dream as you think. It's stressful, competitive, and—"
"I know what high school is," I interrupted, my voice dropping into a flat, deadpan drone. "Hormones, grades, social hierarchies, and people desperately wanting to be popular or getting laid."
WHACK.
Gary's hand connected with the back of my head with a sharp clack.
"OW! Gary, what the flick?!" I rubbed the sore spot, glaring at him.
"Language! And filter!" Gary hissed, his face a bright, embarrassed pink. "There are children present, Regina!"
I looked around. Ash was blinking rapidly, his brain trying to process a word he'd only heard mentioned in hushed whispers behind the bleachers. Misty looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Brock was suddenly very interested in the structural integrity of the ceiling.
"What? You've never seen anyone get laid?" I asked, genuinely confused by their reactions.
Joe stammered, his face turning purple. "Wait... have you... have you done those—"
"No," I cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. "But I'm an orphan, remember? Slum survivor. I've seen things in the back alleys of Viridian that would make your simulator crash. I was twelve and I saw two trainers getting it on in the open behind a dumpster. Relieving the 'heat' of the journey, I guess."
I leaned in, my expression darkening with 'G-Pro' cynical wisdom. "There are two types of trainers in this world, Joe. There are the ones who actually care about the bond and the battle. And then there are the ones who use the 'Trainer' title as a chance to get lucky on the road. It's the ugly side of the circuit no one talks about."
The Reactions:
Ash: Was currently rebooting. His innocence was a fragile glass vase, and I had just dropped a Geodude on it. "I... I think I need to go wash my ears."
Misty: "REGINA! You can't just say things like that! We are in a PRESTIGIOUS ACADEMY!"
Brock: Was nodding slowly, his 'Big Brother' mode fighting with his 'Hopeless Romantic' mode. "She's not wrong, Misty. The world is... a complicated place. But maybe we don't discuss 'the dumpster incident' in front of the kids?"
Gary: Had his face buried in his hands. "I am traveling with a sociopath. A tactical, brilliant, foul-mouthed sociopath."
Joe: Was staring at me like I was a legendary Pokémon from the Distortion World. He'd never heard a girl talk like a jaded mercenary before.
"Anyway," I said, straightening my jacket and popping a piece of gum. "Like I said, if I ever wanted to join a school, Pokémon Tech would be the last place on my list. I'd rather study under a Muk in a sewer. At least the Muk wouldn't try to tell me that a simulation is better than a badge."
"Mocking our academy and praising others while standing in my waiting room..." a cold, melodic voice drifted from the doorway. "You certainly have some guts, don't you?"
We all spun around.
Standing there was Gisele. She looked exactly like her picture, but with an added aura of crystalline arrogance that made the air in the room feel thin. She was holding a Pokéball between two manicured fingers, and her eyes were fixed directly on me—not with anger, but with the clinical curiosity of a scientist looking at a particularly stubborn germ.
"I heard the first half of your 'lecture' regarding Bruno," Gisele said, stepping into the room. Her heels clicked on the tile like a death march. "A loser who couldn't handle the pressure. And as for your... 'back alley' observations? It's clear you've spent your life in the dirt, Regina. But here at Tech, we don't play in the dirt. We master the elements."
[TO BE CONTINUED...]