Gym leaders held an extremely high social status. Most trainers treated them with utmost respect. However, as a transmigrator, Ryuuske looked down on such reverence with disdain. So, he casually asked, "...Is the match starting? And it actually needs the gym leader himself to come and invite me?"
Brock clearly hadn't expected Ryuuske to be so indifferent—his tone slightly sharp, less like friendly banter and more like he didn't care about anything at all. After a moment of surprise, Brock just smiled and explained, "...As the gym leader, I have to greet every challenger personally. Since you're the first to go on, I came here last to escort you to the arena."
He paused, then extended his hand. "...Brock from Pewter City. Nice to meet you."
Ryuuske shook his hand, responding politely this time, "...Ryuuske from Pallet Town, Viridian City. This is my first time participating in a gym challenge. Please take care of me."
Brock's hand was rough and calloused. Ryuuske knew reality and anime were never quite the same, so he had done some research on Brock before coming to the gym. Brock was someone who had changed his fate through sheer effort. Born into a poor family, he had worked countless odd jobs since childhood to support his family. With unrelenting tenacity and the characteristic grit of Pewter City's people, he became a trainer and, after years of hard work, defeated the former gym leader to take over the position himself—lifting both himself and his family into a life of prosperity.
It was an inspiring story that aligned well with the values the Pokémon League aimed to promote. It was even said that a movie director had plans to turn Brock's story into a film.
"I heard Misty mention you once. I didn't expect you'd be the first to challenge my gym."
Brock was a calm and steady young man. As he and Ryuuske walked toward the arena, they chatted along the way.
"You and Misty know each other well?"
"We're from neighboring cities. As fellow gym leaders, we're not exactly close, but we have a good relationship."
"I see… By the way, it's true that winning a gym battle nets you a million yen, right?"
"Yeah, that's what the League's rules say."
Brock gave Ryuuske an extra glance for asking about money right away. Surprisingly, there was admiration in his eyes—he could tell this man probably knew what it was like to be poor and was sensitive about money.
"Come to think of it, with eight challengers per week and four weeks in a month, that's 32 million yen a month from the League. Over a year, that's not just rounding to one hundred million—it's several hundred million. Do all the prize funds from failed challengers go to the gym leader?"
"Cough cough..."
Brock suddenly coughed, blushing as Ryuuske bluntly pointed out such a sharp issue. But he still tried to keep a serious tone. "...You have to understand, gyms also need maintenance, and I have a big family. Supporting their living expenses and education is no small matter."
Ryuuske shot him a disdainful look. Just say it's embezzlement, no need for all those excuses. I can't believe you—thick eyebrows and all—turned out to be a sellout too!
Still, being a gym leader really seemed to rake in money quickly. The League's administrative system was pretty loose, and they didn't bother much with the details of each city's gyms. It looked like just fudging a few reports could let someone skim off a large chunk of the League's funding...
As Ryuuske was seriously considering whether he should "kick someone out" and grab a gym for himself, a sudden burst of cheers erupted around them.
The thunderous cheer sounded like war drums, rattling the soul. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and only then did Ryuuske realize he'd unknowingly followed Brock right into the arena.
They arrived at the battlefield via an elevator platform. As they stepped in, a tidal wave of cheers erupted. The audience extended upward like terraced fields from all directions. Eight massive screens hung from the arena's ceiling. Countless blinding lights lit the enormous arena like daylight. Looking up, several helicopters roared overhead, cameras broadcasting the entire scene across Kanto—and even to regions beyond.
Colorful ribbons fluttered as the stadium transformed into a sea of joy. Spectators stood at the edges of their seats, raising their hands and shouting. A band played a triumphant march, and one group, looking just like sports fans, sat on a stand with headbands, shouting slogans in unison and beating drums they'd brought along.
"Dear audience, viewers here at the venue, and those watching from home, welcome to our weekly Friday feature—live from the Pewter City Gym Challenge! I'm your host, A-Leaf!"
The announcer on the podium shouted enthusiastically into the microphone, raising his arm to hype the crowd even more.
"Our first two contestants have already entered the field! Let me introduce them. One of them is someone you all know well—our pride and joy, Pewter City's gym leader, Brock!"
"RAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
"BROCK—!"
"BROCK—!"
"BROCK—!"
"..."
The synchronized chants of tens of thousands shook the stadium. Even Ryuuske, who'd been an ordinary person before his transmigration and never faced more than a few dozen people for a presentation, was stunned. This wasn't just some crowd—this was like a top-tier celebrity basking in the adoration of tens of thousands. It was the kind of thing he'd only ever seen on TV—never experienced himself.
Brock, clearly used to the scene, waved to all sides and drew even louder cheers.
"And now, the first challenger of the day, a new trainer from Pallet Town in Viridian City—Ryuuske!"
"BOOOO——"
"BOOOO——"
"..."
Forget cheers—the entire stadium erupted in boos. Ryuuske's teeth ached from the sound. Being booed by tens of thousands of people at once… it really tested your nerves. In that moment, he truly understood how soccer players must feel when playing at a hostile away stadium. It was torment.
"This stadium seats 75,400 people. Every gym challenge match is sold out."
"Don't mind it," Brock said, patting Ryuuske on the shoulder. "This is Pewter City. All of them are locals. The boos aren't personal—they're aimed at anyone challenging the gym here. Other cities are the same. You'll have to get used to it. Many rookie trainers crumble under the pressure during their first appearance. I hope you won't let it get to you."
Brock stepped to the center of the field—the white line stretching across the arena, with a Poké Ball-shaped circle in the middle. This was where the pre-battle ritual took place.
"Both trainers have reached the center and are performing the League's highest ceremonial greeting. Let me explain—it's just like every rookie gym challenge. The battle will follow basic League rules: one Pokémon per side. The match ends when one faints. Attacking a fainted Pokémon or the trainer is strictly prohibited!"
The host's explanation, though basic, was part of the official procedure for every match.
Ryuuske and Brock faced each other, both gripping a Poké Ball in their palms. Their right arms crossed, backs of their hands toward the opponent to avoid revealing their choice of Pokémon. This was crucial in 3v3 or 6v6 matches, where the first Pokémon choice could determine the match's course.
This ritual was the highest form of honor in Pokémon battles, only seen in gym challenges or League tournaments.
Ryuuske had studied it in advance.
Ceremony complete, the two trainers turned like Western duelists and walked to their respective ends of the battlefield. Reaching the safe zone, they climbed onto duel platforms and put on headsets to issue commands.
With a crowd this massive, regular shouting would be drowned out. The mic also ensured the public could follow the battle, enhancing both its fairness and entertainment.
"I'll go first!"
Brock flung out a Poké Ball. Appearing in the field was a massive Onix.
"There it is! The Rock-type expert Brock has sent out his Onix. While this may not be his main lineup Pokémon, any Pokémon trained by this Rock-type master will certainly exceed expectations. Now, what will Ryuuske choose?"
Ryuuske didn't keep the crowd waiting. He threw his Poké Ball with a grin. "...Go, Gible! This is your moment to shine before everyone!"
With a puff of smoke, Gibappele ared—barely over a meter tall, it looked tiny compared to the several-meter-long Onix. But seasoned viewers knew that size didn't determine a Pokémon's strength—unless it was abnormally large.
The crowd buzzed with noise. Most spectators didn't even recognize Gible and were whispering, trying to figure out what it was.
The host frantically searched his tablet, then shouted, "...Found it! Ryuuske has sent out a very rarely seen Pokémon—Gible! It's not native to the Kanto region, but hails from Sinnoh. It's a Dragon/Ground-type Pokémon, considered Sinnoh's equivalent of Dratini. It was even believed to be extinct a hundred years ago!"
"OOOOOOHHHHH!!"
The crowd's excitement exploded. Thousands stood, craning their necks to get a better view. Rarity always drew attention. Even in Sinnoh, Gible was rare—let alone in Kanto, where it didn't even exist naturally.
Most people might go their whole lives without seeing one in person. Now that it was right before their eyes, the excitement was off the charts. Cameras zoomed in on Gible from every angle. Photographers with massive lenses desperately snapped shots. Helicopters above focused in on Gible, broadcasting every detail of its appearance.
Compared to Ryuuske, Gible seemed even more at ease in the spotlight. It raised its head and roared, eyes gleaming with bloodlust and the thrill of battle.
"Geez... It's like it was born to be on stage. Just instantly stole everyone's attention," Brock said with a wry smile.
"We've also got data showing that in the preliminaries, Ryuuske shattered Pewter Gym records—each of his matches lasted an average of only ten seconds. Gible never even had to use a second move. What kind of surprise will he bring in this official gym challenge?"
The host knew how to work the crowd. His voice brimmed with excitement. Even in his career, such a disruptive rookie trainer was a first.
"Hah, Gible, you're finally famous now. I took you all over the place, and no one knew what you were. That was really frustrating," Ryuuske muttered with a grin, covering his mic.
He knew the eyes of seventy thousand people were on him. He knew millions more might be watching on TV. His blood boiled.
This is how a man should live. If I've come to this world, then I must shine as its brightest star—leave my name forever etched into its history, never fading with time!
As he tossed out the Poké Ball, Ryuuske instinctively wanted to run alongside Gible, before remembering this was a match—not a life-or-death battle where trainer and Pokémon fought side by side.
Across the field, Brock seemed to sense his subtle movement. He said through the mic,
"...Ryuuske-kun, relax. You must be used to wild battles with your Pokémon, right? But here, you don't need to think about trainer safety. This is a competitive match—just enjoy the battle between Pokémon!"
Brock's words stirred the crowd. To them, it sounded like a senior's kind advice to a junior.
But Ryuuske wasn't happy. Even though he knew Brock meant well, he didn't like being lectured. His pride wouldn't allow it.
"Hah, whatever. Since it's our debut... then let's show them everything we've got. Good thing you sent out an Onix and not some 'spiral blade' thing…"
Ryuuske muttered to himself, then shouted at Gible:
"...We'll strike first—Gible, evolve!!"
His command stunned everyone.
To be continued…