The year was 202X. The Pokémon World Championships.
The semi-finals were being held in the massive Wyndon Stadium in the Galar region. The Sinnoh League Champion, Cynthia, faced off against Galar's own undefeated champion, Leon.
The two top-tier trainers and their Pokémon battled to a standstill, a flurry of skill and strategy that brought the score to 5-5. The entire tournament now rested on the final confrontation between their ace Pokémon.
Cynthia's Garchomp versus Leon's "unbeatable" Charizard.
Ordinarily, Garchomp's base speed stat of 102 gave it a crucial edge over Pokémon with a speed of 100, like Charizard. That tiny two-point difference—jokingly said to be stolen from Hydreigon's 98 base speed—was a world of difference. It was the gap between striking first and being struck.
But just as the final clash began, Leon decisively activated Charizard's Gigantamax form. The battle was instantly turned on its head. The residual damage from G-Max Wildfire, the speed boost from Max Airstream, and the doubled HP of the Gigantamax form created an overwhelming tactical advantage.
Forced into a corner, Cynthia touched the Keystone set in her lipstick, triggering her own Garchomp's Mega Evolution. It was Mega Garchomp versus Gigantamax Charizard.
It was a desperate move. Mega Garchomp was infamous for being a rare "degeneration," as its speed actually dropped by 10 points upon evolving. But without it, the disadvantage would have been even greater.
The battle was swift and brutal. The speed boost from Max Airstream allowed Leon's Charizard to move first. After Cynthia's Mega Garchomp's Scale Shot failed to connect, it fell to the fiery purgatory of G-Max Wildfire, losing the match. The final score was 5-6. Cynthia was eliminated. Leon's undefeated streak continued.
Nearly half a year had passed since that defeat, but the memory still stung. Cynthia often replayed that final moment, her heart aching with a familiar sense of regret. If only Mega Garchomp didn't lose speed. Or, if only her Garchomp could learn a more effective way to boost its stats... like Dragon Dance.
She had tried everything. TMs, special tutors, breeding with other dragons, even using a Mirror Herb in hopes it would copy the move. The results were always the same: failure. Pokémon that weren't even true dragons, like Gyarados or Charizard, could learn it. But her pure-blooded land shark, for some reason, could not.
Now, sitting in her study, she was idly Browse PokéTV on an anonymous account. Out of pure, masochistic habit, she searched for "Dragon Dance + Garchomp," only to find the usual clickbait channels. In a moment of sheer frustration, she deleted "Garchomp" and, without thinking, typed in "Gible."
The results were, as expected, even fewer. If a fully evolved Garchomp couldn't learn the move, its baby form certainly couldn't.
But then she saw it. A brand-new stream, its title a declaration of shameless absurdity.
"My Gible Can Use Dragon Dance."
Cynthia stared. Her refined composure cracked.
Hmph. What kind of international joke is this? she thought, a spark of indignation flaring within her. My own Champion-level Garchomp can't learn Dragon Dance, but some random rookie's baby Gible can?!
"Impossible," she whispered to the empty room. "Absolutely impossible!"
[System Prompt: 'AFutileEffort' has entered the live broadcast room.]
Silas was, to be honest, disappointed. He had thought the "Dragon Dance Gible" gimmick would be an instant hit, that his debut stream would go viral. He'd imagined the popularity soaring, the followers flooding in, and the donations rolling, allowing him to live the easy life.
Thinking about it now, he realized how naive he had been. Viewers were probably sick of "Dragon Dance" clickbait, like the story of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf." Even if his stream was the real deal, who would believe him?
Furthermore, he had to admit that the tactical significance of his Gible was something only an expert would understand. The average viewer wouldn't know why Dragon Dance was so crucial for offsetting Mega Garchomp's speed drop. How many trainers in the world had even raised a Garchomp to the point of Mega Evolution? The number was minuscule, with Cynthia being the most famous by far. What seemed like common sense to him was niche, high-level knowledge to everyone else.
He also had to face his own failings as a streamer. He hadn't even turned on his camera and had barely interacted with the chat. His "show" was, frankly, boring.
No point paying for promotion, he sighed. That would defeat the whole purpose.
"Gib..."
A small, scaly fin touched his cheek. Gible had jumped onto the desk, trying to comfort its dejected trainer. The touch was gentle, but Silas still felt a tiny jolt as its Rough Skin ability triggered.
The small act snapped him out of his funk. A smile returned to his face. "Don't worry, Gible. I'm just a little disappointed, not discouraged."
He turned back to the screen to properly engage with the few comments he'd received, explaining the game's verification system. He didn't even consider the potential danger of revealing his one-of-a-kind Pokémon. The thought of being targeted seemed paranoid for a tiny stream in this relatively peaceful world.
"Alright everyone, that's all for today," he announced, trying to sound cheerful. "The anchor is signing off. I'll be back next time, for sure! Maybe after I've climbed the ranks a bit or thought of a more entertaining team. My promises are always legit!"
[LickilickysLick]: ...]
*[System Prompt: LickilickysLick has sent 'Glow Sticks' x10!]
It was a small act of kindness. A little encouragement to keep a new streamer from disappearing forever, a fate many old viewers had seen befall other small channels.
The other viewer, "AFutileEffort," remained silent. But just as Silas was about to close the program, a notification popped up in his PokéTV dashboard.
[AFutileEffort has sent you a friend request.]
Silas blinked. He wasn't expecting a rich patron to take an interest on his first day. But what was the harm in adding a stranger? It cost nothing. He clicked 'accept'.
Almost immediately, a new message arrived.
How should she start the conversation?
Cynthia, the Champion of the Sinnoh League, stared at the blank message box, feeling more anxious than she had during her World Championship match. She wasn't incompetent when it came to dealing with people. Her journey to becoming Champion had forged her into a capable and confident woman. In public, she was a gentle and approachable blonde. In battle, she was a Valkyrie, a fierce warrior with an aggressive tactical style.
But taking the initiative to contact a complete stranger on the internet, using an anonymous alt account? This was entirely new territory for her.
After a long, troubled moment, she silently typed out two words.
[AFutileEffort]: Hello.]
"Huh..."
Silas blinked at the screen. He had braced himself for anything when the friend request came through, but all he got was a simple "Hello." He couldn't help but chuckle.
Thinking about it, this was actually a pretty good outcome. If this "three-no" burner account had immediately sent him some typical spam message—"My sister is lonely, add my V-Chat"—he would have been completely speechless before slamming the delete button. He wasn't the type to fall for obvious scams.
At the very least, this simple greeting meant the person on the other side was likely a real human being and not a bot.
"Hello back, (*′▽｀)ノノ," Silas replied, sending a friendly, cute message to his first-ever commenter and newly added friend.
Fortunately, Cynthia was not a psychic. She had no way of knowing that, through the vast distance of the internet, the person she was trying to contact had just mentally categorized her as a potential spam bot. If she had known, she might have actually gotten angry. So what if it was an anonymous account? Her main account, with its golden Pokémon League Champion certification, was too eye-catching. Any activity on it caused a stir online. As the saying goes, "A man fears fame like a pig fears getting fat." Cynthia had no desire to attract that kind of attention with her every move.
"You added me as a friend, brother," Silas typed. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Ignoring the "brother" title, Cynthia got straight to the point. "Are you streaming again tomorrow?"
She was intensely curious about his Gible and wanted to ask how he had taught it Dragon Dance. But asking such a blatant question right away... didn't that seem a bit shameless?
"Maybe, maybe not," Silas responded, a completely unhelpful answer. He couldn't make any promises. It all depended on his mood, his schedule, and whether a better opportunity to earn money came up.
"If you're planning to stream the 'Dragon Dance' Gible again tomorrow," Cynthia typed, her tone shifting, "my advice is... you'd better not."
"...Why?" Silas replied, a bit taken aback. He didn't expect his one fan to immediately tell him to quit.
"The viewers on PokéTV might not be... sophisticated enough," she began, then backtracked. That wasn't right. You can't blame your customers. "The Pokémon battle fans might not see the full potential of your Gible now, but they will. Eventually."
"That's the point!" Silas typed back, his fingers flying across the keyboard with the precision of a concert pianist. "It's a good thing they haven't realized it yet. When they do, or when more people realize it, that's when my channel will take off!"
"And that's when you'll be in danger," Cynthia replied gravely.
With her vision, she could see it all. She knew exactly how powerful a Garchomp with Dragon Dance could be, because she was the world's number one Garchomp trainer. She had been actively searching for this exact possibility when she "accidentally" found his stream.
"You mean someone would actually try to attack me just because my Gible knows Dragon Dance?!" Silas typed, his eyes widening. He had dismissed the idea before, feeling it was too paranoid for this peaceful world. Plenty of trainers raised pseudo-legendary cubs without being targeted by villainous organizations.
But then again, it was never wrong to be cautious.
"What you're saying... it makes some sense," Silas sighed, his initial defensiveness deflating. "I was too complacent."
He sent one last message.
"I didn't expect you to be such a nice person, brother ~"
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