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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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As they walked through the grand halls of the Hunter Association, their newly acquired One-Star Hunter licenses in hand, Gings casually twirled his between his fingers before glancing at Insert.
Gings: "You know, Insert, don't you think we became Star Hunters a little too easily?"
Insert glanced at him, then back at the hallway ahead. It was a fair point. The road to becoming a Star Hunter was notoriously difficult, requiring extraordinary contributions to the Hunter Association or achievements of global significance. Yet here they were, barely breaking a sweat, waltzing out with their stars like they had just won a participation trophy at a school event.
Insert sighed and put his hands behind his head. "Well… It's not just our achievements," he admitted.
Gings raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then what is it?"
Insert shot him a look. "Think about it. We've technically been following the 'Netero lineage' whether we meant to or not."
Gings frowned. "The what now?"
Insert smirked. "Oh, come on. You, me, Biscuit—our promotions were fast-tracked because of that."
Gings still looked confused, so Insert decided to spell it out.
Insert: "Look at it this way. Netero trained Biscuit. Biscuit has now trained you. And me, well… I've been hanging around long enough that people associate us together now."
Gings tilted his head, unimpressed. "So?"
Insert smirked. "So, to the higher-ups, we're basically the 'grand-disciples' of Isaac Netero. That's like being part of his lineage in the Hunter world. Whether we like it or not, they see us as part of his direct teaching line. When you have that kind of weight behind your name, getting a star becomes a lot easier."
Gings snorted. "That's a pretty dumb reason to give us promotions."
Insert shrugged. "Maybe. But think about how this world works. Influence and lineage matter. It's not just about merit. If someone as influential as Netero trained you, it means you're expected to be a monster. And if you can prove it, like we did? Then they just slap the title on you and move on."
As he said it, Insert couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. His mind briefly wandered to another story—one from another world entirely.
He thought about Naruto. About how, despite all his struggles, the protagonist was still destined to be great. He was the reincarnation of a demigod, the son of the Fourth Hokage, and trained by Jiraiya, who was trained by the Third Hokage, who was trained by the Second Hokage. No matter how you spun it, Naruto's road to the top was practically written in the stars.
Insert exhaled sharply. "Honestly, it's kind of like Naruto."
Gings blinked. "The hell is a Naruto?"
Insert ignored him and continued his thought. "You know, the ninja story that I showed you , the one that got you trying making ninja dogs, the one that you and Mr. WW tried to make ramen based of it, the guy starts out as an underdog, but if you actually trace his lineage, he was never really an underdog to begin with. He was always destined to be powerful. Son of a Hokage, trained by the most legendary ninjas of his era, literal reincarnation of some ancient deity nonsense—his whole life was rigged from the start."
Gings tilted his head. "And that's relevant because…?"
Insert gave him a deadpan look. "Because we just got handed our stars in the same way. Sure, we earned them with our expeditions and fights, but let's be real. If we didn't have the 'Netero connection,' they'd have taken way longer to give them to us. People assume we're destined for greatness because of who trained us. It's the same damn thing."
Gings smirked. "So what you're saying is… Ican become something like a Hokage now?"
Insert groaned. "No, dumbass."
Gings laughed. "I mean, if we're following your logic, I got trained by the grand-disciple, which means I'm basically two degrees removed from Netero. Doesn't that make me the chosen one?"
Insert rolled his eyes. "More like the problem child Netero never knew he had."
Gings grinned, clearly enjoying the idea now. "So, who does that make you, then?"
Insert sighed dramatically. "I guess that makes me Sasuke. Except I'm not an emo edgelord with an obsession for revenge."
Gings gave him a mischievous look. "I dunno, you do spend a lot of time brooding."
Insert smacked him on the back of the head. "Brooding my ass."
As they bickered their way down the hall, they reached the meeting room where they'd officially receive their stars. Inside, Biscuit was still fuming, and Netero was happily cradling an egg like it was the most precious artifact he had ever seen.
Insert sighed. "See? We're definitely in a rigged story."
Gings just chuckled. "Eh, at least we're the main characters."
As they stepped off the boat onto Whale Island once more, the fresh sea breeze greeted them like an old friend. It was a brief pit stop before they set off to their newly purchased island—just enough time to gather supplies, finalize their plans, and, in Insert's case, stockpile an ungodly amount of food.
While Insert made his way through town, loading up on essentials, Gings lazily followed behind, hands in his pockets, occasionally throwing in a random item into the cart just to mess with him.
It was only when they were heading back to Mito's house that Gings, his curiosity finally getting the best of him, casually asked, "So, what Pokémon did Netero end up with?"
Insert nearly tripped over his own feet, barely catching himself before he dropped a bag of rice. Turning around, he stared at Gings with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You just thought to ask this now?"
Gings shrugged. "Didn't seem that important at the time."
Insert sighed, shaking his head. "It's a Gastly."
Gings blinked. "A what now?"
Insert smirked, already savoring the explanation. "Gastly. A literal floating ball of gas. A ghost Pokémon. Can phase through walls, turn invisible, and, most importantly—mess with people's heads."
Gings raised an eyebrow. "...So we gave Netero a practical joke machine?"
Insert grinned. "Oh, absolutely."
There was a long silence as the realization set in.
Then, Gings started laughing. "Oh, man. Oh, man. This is gonna be hilarious."
Insert nodded. "Yeah. Imagine him casually sipping tea while his Gastly is out there traumatizing some poor rookie Hunters. Or sneaking into meetings to make people hear whispers in their ears. I guarantee you within a week, half the Hunter Association is gonna think the headquarters is haunted."
Gings whistled. "Bet you ten to one it starts messing with Biscuit first."
Insert laughed. "That's a losing bet. That Gastly probably already got Biscuit."
They spent the rest of the walk back fantasizing about all the chaos that was undoubtedly unfolding at the Hunter Association right now—Gastly flipping people's papers upside down, rearranging office furniture, whispering creepy nonsense in the middle of serious meetings, and making the executives slowly lose their minds.
And at the heart of it all, Netero, sipping tea with the most serene smile , pretending like he had no idea what was going on, not willing to adress the problem because of the headache he would get , even his years of training can't get him the ability to discipline his bounded little fellow.
"Best gift I ever gave," Insert muttered proudly.
Gings nodded sagely. "This might be your greatest achievement yet."
Meanwhile, at the Hunter Association Headquarters...
Biscuit Krueger sat cross-legged on a couch in Netero's office, arms folded and foot tapping impatiently as she glared at the mysterious egg sitting on the table between them. Netero, seated opposite her, sipped his tea with an amused smile, his fingers lightly drumming against his armrest.
"This is ridiculous," Biscuit huffed, poking the egg with a single finger. "I swear if this is another one of Insert's useless or trouble pets, I'm going to pummel him."
Netero chuckled. "Oh, come now, Krueger. The boy wouldn't send us anything dangerous. Probably."
"That's not reassuring, old man."
Before their conversation could continue, the egg started to glow faintly. Both of them leaned in, eyes narrowing. Cracks splintered across its surface, light seeping through as something inside struggled to break free.
Then, with a small pop, a swirling ball of purple mist emerged from the shell. Two large, mischievous eyes and a devilish grin formed within the gas-like body as the creature hovered in place, surveying the room.
Biscuit and Netero both blinked.
"What the hell is that?" Biscuit said flatly.
Netero stroked his beard, intrigued. "Well, I was expecting something more... egg-shaped."
Gastly let out a high-pitched cackle and began floating around the office, phasing through furniture and disappearing into the walls before popping out somewhere else entirely. It zipped around in circles, clearly enjoying its newfound existence.
Biscuit immediately reached for her phone and dialed Insert. No response. She tried again. Still nothing.
"That brat ignored me?" she muttered, fuming.
"Perhaps he's busy," Netero said, watching Gastly with curiosity. "It's quite the energetic little thing, isn't it?"
Biscuit let out a frustrated groan. "I swear if this thing causes any trouble, I'm shipping it back to him in a box."
As if on cue, Gastly stopped floating and slowly turned toward them, a glint of mischief in its eyes. Then, it vanished into the air.
And that's when The Reign of Chaos Begins
Biscuit stormed out of Netero's office, her patience already wearing thin. She had dealt with annoying kids, annoying men, and annoying opponents—but a floating gasball of pure mischief was quickly climbing to the top of her list.
She wasn't even ten steps into the hallway when she heard the first scream.
It came from a junior Hunter who had just stepped into the bathroom—only to realize too late that it wasn't the bathroom at all. Instead of urinals and stalls, he found himself face-to-face with a group of high-ranking executives, all staring at him in utter silence.
"What is the meaning of this?" one of them asked, eyes narrowed.
The poor man turned red as a tomato and bolted out of the room, muttering panicked apologies.
Biscuit pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, wonderful. It's started."
By the time she reached the break room, chaos had fully bloomed.
A crowd of exhausted Hunters had gathered around the coffee machine, all looking way too afraid to touch it. Biscuit raised a brow.
"What's the problem?" she asked.
One Hunter, dark circles under his eyes, muttered, "It laughs at us."
"…What?"
Another Hunter cautiously pressed the button for coffee. The machine whirred to life, filling the cup with steaming black liquid. Just as it finished pouring, a high-pitched, disembodied cackle echoed through the room.
One Hunter dropped his mug. Another shrieked. The sleep-deprived Hunter just whispered, "I knew it."
Biscuit took a deep breath. "Okay. That's two."
Cheadle was not having a good day.
Her glasses had been missing for the past three hours, and no matter where she looked, she could not find them. She had checked her desk. Her office. Every drawer. The floor.
Nothing.
So when she finally saw them floating in mid-air right in front of her, she froze.
"…No."
The glasses tilted, as if something unseen was taunting her.
"…I swear to—"
The glasses zoomed off down the hallway.
Cheadle let out a string of curses and took off after them.
Throughout the day, an unsettling pattern emerged.
Every desk in the building had been moved just slightly—not enough to notice at first, but enough to make everyone feel off. Pens rolled off tables they had never rolled off before. Chair legs scraped against the ground at an awkward angle. Hunters muttered, shifting uncomfortably at their workstations.
Nobody knew why.
And it drove them insane.
A rookie Hunter sprinted out of the archives, screaming.
"WHAT HAPPENED?" a senior Hunter demanded.
The rookie, still shaking, pointed at a mirror in the hallway. "It—It blinked at me!"
"…You mean you blinked?"
"NO! MY REFLECTION BLINKED FIRST!"
The other Hunter rolled his eyes. "You need more sleep."
Meanwhile, Gastly, invisible, hovered above them, snickering.
The weekly meeting for Hunter Exam officials was set to begin. The minutes were prepared, the agenda was distributed, and everything was in order…
Until someone opened the documents.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
"…Why is it all written backward?"
One of the officials tentatively held up a page to the light, squinting. Another tried turning it upside-down.just to read "I'm your father"
The head examiner let out a deep sigh and rubbed his temples. "Damn it. Who did this?"
From somewhere in the vents, Gastly giggled.
"Psst."
A Hunter walking down the hall froze. Slowly, he turned his head.
There was no one there.
"…H-Hello?"
A whisper brushed against his ear.
"You dropped your pen."
He screamed and ran.
Gastly, floating upside down, laughed so hard it nearly lost its shape.
Hunters trying to use the elevator found themselves stuck in an endless cycle.
No matter which button they pressed, the doors opened on every single floor.
The same Hunters who started off confused quickly grew furious, then distressed, and finally, dead-eyed with despair.
At one point, a man slumped against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "I was supposed to be home two hours ago…"
The doors opened again.
Gastly sat in the corner, snickering.
And then, the final straw.
In the main briefing room, a whiteboard was covered in scribbled notes and diagrams from an important mission discussion.
When the Hunters returned, those notes had been erased—replaced with a single phrase, written in blood-red ink:
"I Was Here."
Silence.
"…Wait, who is he, or was it a she?"
"No, where are the notes?"
"…Then who—"
Before anyone could answer, the whiteboard marker floated into the air on its own.
It twirled. Then, with a dramatic flourish, wrote:
"I see ugly people."
That was when people really started losing their minds.
Biscuit, standing inside the Association headquarters, took a deep breath.
It had been a long day.
Biscuit slammed her hands on Netero's desk, glaring at him. "Are you seriously just going to sit there smiling while this thing is terrorizing the entire Association?"
Netero, still sipping his tea, chuckled. "Well, well… I have to say, Insert really does know me well. It's been years since I've had this much fun."
Biscuit groaned. "That's it. I am calling Insert again."
Her phone rang. Straight to voicemail.
Biscuit gritted her teeth.
She took a deep breath, clenched her fist…
And screamed into the receiver:
"INSERT, YOU ABSOLUTE BRAT, YOU'D BETTER PICK UP THIS DAMN PHONE BEFORE I DROP-KICK YOU INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION!"
While insert in his bed very wisely, ignored it.
"Damn it, Insert!"