Seeing Electabuzz hit the field, Reiji smiled to himself. Shun really had been reading. Against Gyarados, Electabuzz was absolutely the right call. Type advantage was the most basic tactic a Trainer had—no exceptions.

Even he had taken bad losses before. As for Ash’s reputation as some kind of genius of reverse matchups, that was just a joke. When the plot wanted something, the writers didn’t know a damn thing about proper battles.

Once the fight started, Reiji saw right away that Shun’s Electabuzz had a solid command of Electric-type moves. Thunderbolt and the rest came out smoothly, with none of the strain you saw from undertrained Electric-types. Its power reserves were clearly excellent.

Gyarados, on the other hand, got electrocuted into pure misery. It thrashed, leaped, and roared as the attacks kept landing. Worse, it had already soaked the field with Water-type moves during the last battle, which only made the Electric attacks hit harder. Once Electabuzz started calling down Thunder, Gyarados had nowhere to run.

In the end, it was paralyzed, took one last punch from Electabuzz, and crashed to the ground unconscious.

The crowd outside didn’t go as wild this time.

Shun wasn’t a Kanto Trainer, so even if they cheered, who were they cheering for? The Orange Archipelago? An outsider who had come to Kanto and beaten another outsider for them? They weren’t willing to lower themselves that far.

Once Gyarados went down, Paul finally realized he’d run into someone serious. It wasn’t as if Gyarados lacked Ground-type moves to counter Electabuzz, but Electabuzz had clearly been trained specifically for that kind of matchup. Ordinary Ground-type attacks just weren’t landing cleanly, so Gyarados had no choice but to lose.

“Go, Onix.”

“Onix?” Reiji couldn’t help smiling crookedly when he saw it. These two kids really did have funny teams.

There was no need to keep guessing how this three-on-three would end. Shun was taking this one.

Against Onix, Electabuzz lost most of its Electric toolkit on the spot. It could still fight with off-type options like Ice Punch and Fighting-type moves, but Paul wasn’t stupid. He would obviously avoid letting Electabuzz get close enough to use them.

And even if Electabuzz went down, Shun still had two partners in reserve that hit Onix for quadruple damage: his Water-type Poliwhirl and his Grass-type Breloom. Both were probably already at Advanced tier by now. Paul was in trouble no matter how you sliced it.

That was the value of having information first. Shun had watched Paul’s earlier battles, picked up his habits, and led with the perfect counter to Grotle. That alone had already handed him the initiative.

Even if both sides still had three switch opportunities, Shun kept the advantage. The first one to switch lost control of the pace and was the one forced into the unfavorable matchup.

That was how field control worked.

Whoever switched first got punished.

Things played out exactly the way Reiji expected. Once Electabuzz lost access to its Electric attacks against Onix, it could only fight a losing battle. The swagger it had shown against Gyarados was gone. In the end, Onix whipped it away with its tail, and Electabuzz went flying back unconscious at Shun’s feet.

Shun recalled Electabuzz, pulled out his third Poké Ball, and threw it.

Breloom.

The crowd erupted again.

“Breloom? He’s done for!”

“Fine, he’s not one of ours—but if he can beat that smug brat, then good enough!”

The moment Breloom appeared, the loudmouths outside came alive again, as if they had all finally talked themselves into the same position.

Maybe Shun wasn’t from Kanto, but they still couldn’t stand the idea of Paul winning after all that arrogance, especially not with that attitude about Pokémon being tools. More than anything, they wanted him taken down a peg.

Paul understood the situation the second he saw Breloom.

His heart sank.

A half-spent Onix against a fresh Breloom? That was a loss, plain and simple.

Then he did something sly.

He recalled Onix and said to Shun, “You’ve got skill. I’ll give you that, Trainer from the Orange Archipelago. I’m Paul, from Sinnoh. Only the strong deserve to know my name.”

As he said it, Paul threw a sideways glance at everyone in the crowd except Shun.

That one line—only the strong deserve to know my name—might as well have meant the rest of you are trash.

It stabbed straight through the pride of every loudmouth there. Even though Shun had practically already won, the whole crowd still broke at once and started hurling abuse at Paul, turning into a live-action comment section and verbally dragging his ancestors through the mud.

Yes, Paul had lost.

But the battle hadn’t been completed, so in his eyes it didn’t count.

Anyone with half a brain could see who would have won, but as long as the match didn’t end cleanly on the field, Paul refused to acknowledge it.

And that line about recognizing Shun’s strength made it even worse. It lifted Shun up while stepping all over the crowd, especially when he added Trainer from the Orange Archipelago. That part was pure salt in the wound.

Reiji couldn’t stop laughing.

Paul’s mouth really was vicious. No wonder he’d driven Ash up the wall more than once.

Too bad Ash eventually turned him around.

The funny thing was, Trainers like Paul—people with no real bond to their Pokémon, who saw them mostly as battle tools—were actually the closest thing the anime had to real players. In a player’s PC, anything useless either got kept as a collectible or released.

“I don’t need your recognition,” Shun said. “Making weaker Pokémon stronger is a Trainer’s responsibility. You don’t throw them away because they’re not good enough, and you don’t treat them like tools. They’re the partners who live with me, train with me, fight with me, and work with me every day. They aren’t disposable junk.”

As he spoke, he rested a hand on Breloom’s head.

Breloom, like Poliwhirl, had been with him from the beginning. Even if it couldn’t evolve any further, that had never changed how much effort Shun put into raising it.

He had no intention of abandoning any partner on the road upward. Even if one of them wasn’t especially gifted, he would still treat them with the same sincerity.

“Still going on about partners?” Paul said with open contempt. “Pathetic.”

Since Shun wouldn’t accept his acknowledgment, fine. Paul still believed what he believed: strong Pokémon had value, weak ones didn’t.

“Do you still want the last battle?” Shun asked.

He had stepped in because he couldn’t stand the way Paul carried himself, but more than that, he couldn’t stand anyone denying his path as a Trainer—or denying the man who had taught him that path.

Most of what Shun believed about being a Trainer had come from Reiji. He’d never seen anything wrong with building real friendship with Pokémon.

That was what the League itself preached too. Pokémon were partners, not tools. Shun believed in sincerity for sincerity, and he believed it completely.

“…No. I’m done.”

Paul answered quickly after a brief pause, but the words still stuck a little on the way out.

Shun wasn’t giving him any room to save face. Asking for the last battle now was basically forcing him to admit the obvious.

Of course, it never occurred to Paul that maybe this was his own fault.

Shun had already shown him enough respect. It was Paul who kept dismissing Shun’s beliefs, dismissing the beliefs of countless Trainers, and dismissing the path Shun had chosen.

If you really wanted to take it further, Paul was also spitting in the face of the League’s official message. In a stricter era, that kind of thinking alone might have landed him in trouble.

After spending the whole morning giving no one else any face, Paul had suddenly started caring very deeply about protecting his own.

That was how self-centered Trainers thought.

“This is the strength you’re so proud of chasing?” Shun asked.

It sounded like a question, but everyone understood it for what it was: a direct rejection of Paul’s philosophy. A rejection of the idea that only strong Pokémon mattered, coming from the same Paul who was now backing away from the last battle.

The tension on the field turned heavy enough to choke on.

A minute ago, the spectators had been screaming themselves hoarse. Now that things had gone quiet, none of them dared so much as breathe too loudly. Online, they were keyboard warriors. In person, they turned back into ostriches the moment the atmosphere got serious.

“Tch.”

Paul knew he was in the wrong, and more importantly, he knew he couldn’t win.

There was no point arguing. He had already lost the three-on-three. Anything he said now would just sound hollow, and he had too much pride to start explaining himself.

“So that’s your proof?” Reggie said with an easy smile as he stepped forward. “Why don’t we have a battle?”

Shun’s words clearly hadn’t sat well with him either.

The truth was, Paul had turned out like this because he’d copied Reggie. Reggie was the same kind of Trainer at heart—someone who pursued strength above all.

“You?” Shun looked at him and instantly knew he would have to use his best Pokémon—Poliwhirl. Even then, he still might not win.

“What’s wrong? Scared?” Reggie tossed a Poké Ball lightly in one hand. “You were talking so confidently about bonds. Don’t tell me you’re afraid to prove whether those bonds really make you stronger.”

“Who’s scared?” Shun snapped, recalling Breloom and raising a Poké Ball of his own.

Then they both threw at once.

Shun sent out Poliwhirl.

Reggie sent out Electivire.

“What? How is that even supposed to be a match?”

The crowd had been getting excited all over again when they heard another battle was about to start. Then they saw Poliwhirl across from Electivire and nearly deflated on the spot.

That fight was hopeless.

By weight, by raw power, by type matchup—Electivire crushed Poliwhirl from every angle.

By the time Reiji had shoved his way in from outside the crowd, the two Pokémon were already on the field. Shun had absolutely no chance against Reggie.

So he stepped forward and cut in.

“Hey,” he said. “Is bullying a kid really that fun?”

Reggie had already collected entry badges for the Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh leagues. He’d definitely fought in regional tournaments too, and he had probably taken on the Battle Frontier as well—though maybe not yet.

Judging by the way he was acting, Reiji guessed he hadn’t.

The Reggie who had already gone through the Battle Frontier wasn’t the sort of guy who would casually step in to bully a kid like this.

So that meant he probably still hadn’t run into the guy with the three marks yet.

Right—he just hadn’t been schooled by Brandon.

That was the trouble with these two brothers. They were both cut from the same cloth: proud, obsessed with strength, and convinced that only powerful Pokémon mattered. That whole useless thing wasn’t just Paul. It came from the same place.

As for Paul, the one who would really grind him down in the end was that idiot Ash himself.

“Who are you?” Reggie asked, frowning at the sudden interruption.

If Reiji hadn’t stepped in, Reggie’s plan had been simple. From what he’d overheard, Shun was from the Orange Archipelago, and he had already shown several different types of Pokémon without once revealing a Water-type.

So Reggie had assumed the next one would be Water.

Another information advantage.

Another easy win.

Then this guy showed up and ruined it.

“I’m his brother,” Reiji said, pulling Shun behind him and motioning for him to call Poliwhirl back. Then he smiled at Reggie. “You’re Reggie, right? I hear you two brothers are pretty full of yourselves. So how about a battle with me instead? Got the guts to take that challenge?”

Every eye in the area swung toward Reggie.

Just like that, all the pressure shifted onto him.

Everyone was waiting for his answer.

“Fine,” Reggie said. “Send out your Pokémon.”

Being interrupted didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, hearing that Reiji was Shun’s big brother only made him happier.

If the younger brother preached bonds, then the older brother probably did too. Beat the older one, and the younger one’s beliefs would start cracking too. Clean and efficient.

“Rhydon.”

The moment Reiji called for Rhydon, his eyebrows lifted slightly.

Reggie’s face, on the other hand, turned dark on the spot.

He clearly hadn’t expected Reiji to be that shameless and throw out a hard counter to Electivire right away.

“What?” Reiji said with a grin. “Regretting it already? You can switch if you want.”

And just like that, he kicked the pressure straight back over.

Reiji had no shame at all. He liked free value. If there was an advantage to be taken, he took it. Playing games with him while trying to save face was a terrible bargain.

“I’m not switching.” Reggie took a deep breath, forced down the frustration in his chest, and committed himself to finishing the battle.

After all, he’d already said the words. Taking them back now would’ve looked ugly.

“All right, then. I won’t make it too unfair,” Reiji said. “Your Electric moves are useless against Rhydon, so I won’t use any Ground-type moves either.”

With that one line, he piled the pressure right back onto Reggie.

At this point, it didn’t even matter whether he won or lost. He already had both the inside track and the face-saving edge.

And losing? So what if he lost?

Since when had winning and losing ever mattered to a fisherman?

The real problem was going out and not catching any fish.

Reggie clenched his jaw in silence.

From the moment Reiji stepped in, everything had gone wrong for him. Every exchange had forced him into following Reiji’s pace. Every decision point had ended with him reacting instead of choosing.

The initiative was completely gone.

He was stuck playing defense.

[End of chapter]

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep