In Viridian City, Kanto Region, inside a secret underground base...
A stern-faced middle-aged man, his eyes sharp, walked step by step toward a chair. Behind him, rows of scientists in white lab coats stood at attention, along with soldiers who stood like statues, hands behind their backs.
Normally, these people would look at the man with reverence and admiration. However, today, there was something different—something strange in their gazes.
The cause was simple: the middle-aged man was wearing an apron, the kind a housewife might wear, over his black suit.
The contrast between the apron and his cold demeanor, as well as the somber surroundings of the base, was jarring. Yet, the man himself seemed entirely unbothered by this.
He casually removed the apron, tossing it aside, revealing a fiery red "R" logo emblazoned on his chest.
As he sat down, a soft, lazy purr sounded beside him.
The Persian that had been lying next to the chair immediately approached the man, rubbing affectionately against him. The man began stroking Persian's head, eliciting a contented purr from the Pokémon.
The man's gaze swept across the group of researchers in front of him. His voice was calm and emotionless as he spoke:
With just that one word, the room fell silent. The researchers exchanged nervous glances, beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads.
The man remained quiet, continuing to pet his Persian. But the silence only intensified the pressure in the room.
And the Persian, though seemingly relaxed, gave off a chilling sense of danger—its cold gaze could freeze anyone in their tracks, ready to pounce if the man so much as gave the signal.
Unable to bear the tension, the lead researcher wiped his brow and stepped forward.
"B-boss, its metrics are all normal. In fact, its cognitive functions have become more active, but... far more orderly than before."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward.
The lead researcher took a deep breath, then gritted his teeth and continued:
"In short... the cooking, it, um..."
He stole a nervous glance at the man, someone who could shake the entire Kanto and Johto underworld with a mere stomp of his foot.
Truthfully, if someone had told him before that this man would ever try cooking, he wouldn't have believed it—not after witnessing that... unusual scene.
"... greatly stabilized its previously chaotic mental state and emotions. The effect was very beneficial."
The man's gaze softened, and he leaned back in his chair.
"In that case, the newly discovered island will be left to it to handle."
Three days later at Rustboro Pokémon Academy, in the training room...
"Take a break," Johan said to Gastly.
Gastly let out a huge sigh of relief, glancing at the floor littered with rubber balls before floating quickly back to Johan's side, putting on a pitiful expression. It circled around him expectantly.
From Gastly's perspective: I've been such a good boy. Don't I deserve a little reward?
From Johan's perspective: Hmm, I underestimated Gastly's stamina. I can definitely increase the training load next time.
That morning, Gastly had been doing a special dodgeball training. The task was simple—dodge the rubber balls shot from multiple angles by machines. But with several machines firing at unpredictable timings and directions, it was far from easy.
By the end of the morning, Gastly was exhausted, but it had performed admirably, especially considering Gastly's natural speed as a Ghost-type Pokémon.
Johan pulled out two sparkling, deep-purple Pokéblocks, emitting a faint, sweet aroma.
Gastly's eyes lit up instantly.
"Don't jump on me—remember, your gas is toxic!"
Gastly happily devoured the two Pokéblocks, while Johan, whose hair was slightly disheveled, straightened his clothes with a sigh. Gastly flashed a mischievous grin.
Johan had gotten used to Gastly's tricks and pranks by now.
He let out a long breath he'd been holding.
Ordinary food is fine for maintaining a Pokémon's basic needs, but when it comes to training and battling, only highly concentrated energy foods like Pokéblocks can provide sufficient nutrients.
That was why, after the first day of training, Johan had immediately spent a hefty amount on Pokéblocks for Gastly.
The Pokéblocks Gastly was eating were mid-tier ones, specifically designed for Ghost-types. Each one cost 50 Pokécoins—not cheap by any means.
With his salary, he could manage it.
After all, being a tutor at one of the most prestigious Pokémon academies in Hoenn paid well.
But the problem was... despite Gastly's small size, its appetite was much bigger than Johan had anticipated!
Still, the results spoke for themselves. With the energy boost from the Pokéblocks, Gastly's training efficiency had noticeably improved.
It made Johan realize just how much money a Trainer had to invest into their Pokémon.
While chewing on the Pokéblocks, Gastly noticed Johan staring at his phone, frowning occasionally. Curious, Gastly floated over.
The phone screen was filled with dense lines of text, making Gastly's head spin. It much preferred watching videos or looking at pictures.
However, as Johan scrolled down, an image finally appeared—of more Pokéblocks!
Already used to Gastly's sudden appearances, Johan didn't look up as he explained:
"I'm reading up on how to make Pokéblocks."
Back when he was a student, the school had taught this, but since he had majored in Pokémon Psychology and didn't have his own Pokémon at the time, he hadn't paid much attention.
Now that he had Gastly, and given how expensive Pokéblocks were, Johan had decided it wouldn't hurt to try making them himself.
Gastly's eyes turned into swirls of gratitude, tears welling up as it realized Johan was learning to make Pokéblocks just for it.
"Hey, don't get all emotional again!"
Johan said as he fixed his clothes and exited the training room.
Gastly didn't like staying inside its Pokéball, likely because of the "trauma" from being captured the first time. Johan didn't mind, though. In fact, having Gastly around was like carrying a portable air conditioner—it wasn't a bad deal.
Gastly's training is going well, but training and actual battles are different things. The mindset in combat is harder to control, especially in dangerous situations.
It'd be best to find some real battle opportunities for Gastly.
Just as Johan stepped outside, the sky had turned a dull gray, as if it might rain at any moment.
Before he could take a few more steps, he heard someone call out in surprise:
He turned toward the voice to find none other than Roxanne and Steven.