Chapter 102. You'd Better Go Back to Being a Gym Trainer
"Look, that scheming Dragonite sent someone flying again!"
"This year's C-class ring has that wild Pokémon duo doing great!"
"If you ask me, the real show is that Pikachu on the D-class ring.
How did they even train that sleeping technique?"
The crowd buzzed with excitement.
The broadcast director's rapid cut-switching was dizzying, and the host kept moving back and forth between the rings.
No helping it.
This year's P1 Grand Prix was just too entertaining.
In past years, you could focus on the A- and B-class rings.
C- and D-class were just there for laughs.
This time, the C- and D-class rings were where the action was!
On the A-class ring, a Hitmonchan lay defeated under Dragonite's claw.
"Hitmonchan!"
Anthony gasped, then sank to his knees, unable to accept the loss.
"Wow—A-class has a winner!
The Gentle Tyrant takes the victory!"
The host's voice boomed, and Natsume's mouth twitched.
In this kind of tournament, the audience loves giving contestants' Pokémon nicknames.
The Hitmonchan he had just beaten, owned by Anthony, was being called the Boxing Master.
"Damn it, is this where my run ends?"
Anthony braced on both hands, eyes full of frustration, tears threatening to spill.
Light footsteps approached.
Natsume stopped in front of him.
"You're strong, and your tactics are excellent.
I can't imagine what kind of power training could raise a Dragonite like that!"
Anthony raised his head, sincerity in his eyes.
"Can you tell me what training lets power break away from the telegraphed motion of a strike?"
Anthony knew hand-to-hand combat.
He had studied Natsume's Dragonite many times.
You can't wind up like that and not produce power!
Natsume rubbed his nose.
Well, he didn't actually know how Dragonite did it.
Frankly, even Dragonite didn't know how strong its next strike would be.
"You'd better go back to being a Gym Trainer."
Leaving those words, Natsume turned and walked off.
"What…"
Anthony froze.
After a long moment, he stood.
"I won't give up.
I can still fight my way back in the Group B revival match.
Just wait—I'll defeat you!"
He shouted after Natsume's retreating back.
Natsume didn't respond.
He was already looking toward the D-class rings.
On a D-class ring, center-parted was out cold.
Across from it, a Machoke was panting from exhaustion.
"Phew—"
Ash leaned on the railing and drifted off.
He'd wanted to respect their opponent.
But he'd pulled an all-nighter with Natsume yesterday.
Ash was dead on his feet.
And center-parted's strategy was so boring that, before he knew it, he'd nodded off.
"Hey!
Quit looking down on me!"
Across the way, a boy fumed.
"Whoa, whoa—another Trainer driven to dizziness by sheer provocation!
Full taunt value achieved!"
As the host finished, Machoke's trembling fist dropped onto the fast-asleep center-parted.
The instant it connected, the fist went limp, slid off, and Machoke toppled straight back, fainting from exhaustion.
"There it is again—another victory from within a dream!
Pikachu takes first in Group D, and it's still asleep!"
"Even its Trainer is asleep!"
Ash was sleeping soundly this time.
Not even the host's shrieks woke him.
"Looks like the Dream Armor works nicely."
Blue light flickered in Natsume's eyes.
Inside center-parted's mental world, there wasn't a single nightmare.
It had clearly wiped them out.
And center-parted… was reading?
Beside it in the mental world lay a small round shield and a short sword, set down carelessly.
In its arms, it cradled a book like a treasure—the legendary Pokémon record manual it had begged from Natsume.
Wasn't it supposed to be unable to read?
Linking minds with center-parted, Natsume found that in the mental world it could actually read human writing.
Let it read.
Natsume nodded in satisfaction.
The kid slacked off so hard most of the time that any effort now felt precious.
"Hey—friend?"
A man with a heavy accent suddenly stepped in front of Natsume.
"What is it?"
Natsume glanced at the stocky, short-limbed, slightly chubby middle-aged man.
"Friend, I'm from Celadon City Grand Furnishings Company.
We've been developing a sleep-wellness product for the bed—"
"No girlfriend.
Not buying."
Natsume turned to leave.
"Wait, wait—at least take a look!"
The man hurriedly pulled out a Pikachu-shaped pillow.
"This is our newest product, a Pikachu massage pillow.
It relieves neck fatigue."
"Oh, that kind of wellness product…"
Natsume looked it over.
The Pikachu pillow's four limbs stuck up, and the tiny fingers had been cleverly made into massage claws.
"Not interested.
Not buying."
Natsume shook his head and started away.
"Wait, friend—I want to hire that young man to be our spokesperson."
The middle-aged man blocked him again and pointed toward Ash in the distance.
"I checked the entrant info.
You're his guardian.
How about it?
There's endorsement money!"
Natsume raised a brow, took the card, and tapped it to the back of his Rotom Phone.
Seeing the number, he blinked.
Just under twenty million Pokédollars.
Hiss—endorsements paid that much?
And this was just a local, non-League tournament.
The company was a no-name small business to boot.
No wonder Leon's cape is plastered with sponsors.
Rubbing his chin, Natsume mused about getting a sponsor cape for himself and Ash later.
"I agree.
Go talk to Ash.
If he's willing, we're good."
He flipped the card back to the man and headed for the stands.
"Natsume, why are you up here?"
Misty looked over, curious.
"Most of the first-place finishers are decided for the morning in every ring.
What's left are the revival matches and the finals."
Natsume took the open seat Honora had saved, accepted the juice she handed over, and took a slurp.
"Miss Rebecca's father seems to be the one you just defeated, right?"
Honora asked.
Natsume nodded.
For a contest like this, to throw away being a Gym Trainer and neglect your daughter—he couldn't see the sense in it.
"Huh?
Mr. Anthony doesn't look right.
He's going to lose the Group B revival match."
Brock, who had been watching Anthony, suddenly spoke up.
Everyone looked over.
On the B-class ring, Hitmonchan and Hitmonlee were locked in a grueling brawl.
"Hitmonchan, hang in there!"
Anthony's voice rang out in hope.
But he wasn't Ash.
Hitmonchan's momentum faltered, and it began to flag.
Natsume shifted his gaze to Anthony's opponent—a tall figure in a heavy coat and mask.
That was Team Rocket in disguise.
On top were Meowth and Jessie.
Jessie's thighs clamped James's head.
His face was bright red from the strain.
"Hehe, it wasn't for nothing that we dropped down from Group A on purpose, meow.
We finally got matched with him, meow!"
Meowth kept his voice low, but the excitement still spilled out.
"Hitmonlee, finish it—Mega Kick!"
Jessie swung her arm.
Hitmonlee leapt high and booted Hitmonchan clean out of the ring.
"That Hitmonlee looks really strong," Brock breathed.
"When Miss Rebecca was describing him, I thought her dad was super strong…"
Misty tilted her head, puzzled.
Where did Team Rocket get that Hitmonlee?
Natsume cocked his head, falling into thought.
"A beautiful finish!
Hitmonchan is down!
Mr. Anthony is completely eliminated!"
The host announced, and Anthony sat there, stunned.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over him.
He looked up to see his opponent walking over.
"You'd better go back to being a Gym Trainer."
Jessie left the line coldly and turned away.
The déjà vu hit Anthony hard.
He stared blankly at her departing back.
Inside a tournament restroom.
A giant of a man sat in nothing but his underwear, hands and feet tied, a wad of yarn stuffed in his mouth.
"Okay then.
You agreed to follow our orders and beat that guy.
As promised, we can release your Trainer."
At the restroom door, Hitmonlee let out a long breath, watching the red-haired woman leave with lingering fear.
Too scary.
Humans are too scary.
It had come with its Trainer to enter the tournament.
Halfway there, a red-haired woman blazing with fury had stopped them and, without a word, beaten them both up.
A Pokémon's body really does have its limits!
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Chapter 103. The P1 Grand Prix Comes to an End
In the matches that followed, Natsume and Ash fought their way through the bracket and reached the final.
In the finals—
Two capes billowed in the wind.
Natsume and Ash stood on opposite sides of the ring.
What drew the eye most was that their outfits, the capes on their backs, and even the hats on their heads were plastered with brightly colored logos and ad slogans.
Both stood with arms folded, refusing to make a move, putting on the air of masters.
"Wow, oh my—so this is what a clash between masters looks like.
I can already feel the pressure!"
The host's passionate voice rang out.
"Natsume, I didn't expect it'd be the two of us in the end!"
Ash couldn't help cracking an eye open, speaking with excitement.
"Shh—these ads I found are billed by the minute."
Natsume reminded him with telekinesis.
At once, Ash snapped his eyes shut, staying motionless together with Natsume.
"All right, Ash has gone with his usual tactic, which means Mr. Natsume must be about to make a move!"
The broadcast director immediately cut the camera to Natsume.
Natsume kept his eyes closed and didn't move, and Dragonite did the same.
The whole ring went quiet, and it became an awkward lull.
One minute, two minutes—until half an hour had passed, the spectators were already murmuring.
"Hey, could Natsume be trying to fleece the advertisers together with Ash?" Misty guessed.
"Mm, I heard the ad rate for the finals starts at 200,000 Pokédollars per minute, and under normal circumstances you can finish in ten minutes…"
Brock's voice came through, thick with envy.
"With that many ads, if the two of them stand here all day, wouldn't that mean—?"
Misty's eyes sparkled.
So much money she couldn't even count it.
"Uh—dear contestants…"
The host had been thrown for a loop, cold sweat dotting his forehead.
This was bad—there was about to be a live broadcast incident.
The broadcast director was sweating buckets, too.
This was the finals; they could only air footage of these two.
There wasn't even another feed to cut to.
On the jumbo screen, the dizzying small ads shone brilliantly.
The grumbling in the stands grew louder and louder.
The host's gaze swept back and forth over the two down below, trying to find a way to break the stalemate.
Suddenly, the host's eyes lit up.
"I've got it!
Mr. Natsume is just too clever!"
The host's voice rose:
"As long as he doesn't let Dragonite make a move, Dragonite won't get exhausted and collapse.
That puts him in an invincible position."
"He can even observe Pikachu's weaknesses.
Maybe Mr. Natsume will be the first contestant to find the way to break through!"
The host's passionate patter resounded.
The stands first fell abruptly silent.
Then they erupted into thunderous applause.
Natsume: "…"
This host was a real talent.
In the end, the match concluded with Natsume and Ash tied for first.
The judges simply couldn't watch any longer.
If they didn't step in, the two of them could have stood there till the end of time.
"Natsume, you can have all the ad money.
I only want the championship belt!"
Outside the arena, Ash spoke to Natsume, unable to hide his excitement.
"Here."
Natsume handed over the belt.
Ash received it like a precious treasure, carefully taking it in hand.
"Great!
Now I'll have a chance to challenge the Fighting-type Elite Four in the future!"
Ash hung the championship belt around his neck, thrilled.
"Congratulations, Ash," Brock offered his blessing.
"Hey, hey—there was that much money, and you just gave it away like that?"
Misty was astonished.
"Huh?
But all my meals, lodging, and Pokémon supplies along the way have been paid for by Natsume."
Ash scratched his head, not finding anything wrong with that.
"If I'm short on money, I can just ask Natsume for some."
Ash thought back.
That's how he'd always done it since he was a kid.
"Money in my hands is just money, but in Natsume's hands, it has a chance to turn into even more money."
Ash said solemnly, "Natsume calls it… 'investment.'
Right, that's called investment!"
Misty covered her face. "When you were little, did you give all your allowance to Natsume?"
"Eh?
How did you know?"
Ash was amazed.
"Ahem, why don't we go see how Mr. Anthony is doing?"
Natsume hurriedly coughed twice and pointed ahead.
They looked over and saw Anthony sitting dejectedly on a rock not far away.
"Darn it!"
A tear splashed down as Anthony slammed a fist into the ground.
Sensing someone approach, Anthony hastily wiped his tears away.
When he looked up and saw Ash and Natsume, he froze for a moment.
"What are you doing here?"
"To kick you while you're down."
Natsume nodded.
"Natsu—Natsume, don't joke like that."
Misty and Ash tugged him away together.
"Mr. Anthony, are you all right?"
Brock spoke up, hesitating over whether to bring up Rebecca's matter.
"I'm fine.
Next P1 Grand Prix, my Hitmonchan and I will work even harder!"
Anthony sprang to his feet and declared loudly to the sky.
"...Still not giving up, huh…"
Brock's mouth twitched.
Even he could tell that Anthony had thrown away reality, focusing single-mindedly on training for the tournament, yet had achieved only the barest results.
That was extremely irresponsible.
"Hou-wah-wah!"
A cry of delight rang out.
They turned to look and saw that Primeape had shown up, staring at Anthony in surprise and joy.
Behind Primeape trailed a Hypno.
"Mmm~"
Hypno moved slowly, stuffing Berries into its mouth.
"It's those two wild Pokémon who entered as a pair!"
Misty excitedly pointed at Primeape and Hypno.
"I remember now.
Ever since you were eliminated, Mr. Anthony, Primeape hasn't taken part in any of the subsequent matches!"
Ash added.
"Is that so…"
Anthony blinked, eyes brimming with tears.
He half crouched and reached his hand out toward Primeape:
"Come on, Primeape.
Be my partner.
Let's fight together in next year's P1 Grand Prix."
"We'll definitely win the championship, Primeape!"
Anthony's burning gaze fell on Primeape.
Hope filled his heart once more.
Primeape hesitated for a beat, then walked toward Anthony, the very picture of harmony between human and Pokémon.
"Ah… what a pity.
We beat Mr. Anthony, but still failed."
Brock lowered his head in disappointment.
He hadn't forgotten Ms. Rebecca's request.
"Not necessarily."
Natsume's voice sounded.
Brock turned and found Natsume wearing a strange expression.
"Ah—!"
Suddenly, Anthony let out a scream.
Brock glanced back and saw a familiar scene.
Primeape had seized Anthony in a mighty hug, its fists as big as cooking pots pounding coolly into Anthony's face.
"Could… could this be some kind of process for recognizing its Trainer?
Go ahead, Primeape!"
Saying that, Anthony didn't resist at all, letting Primeape beat him black and blue.
"Wah-hah-hah!"
Primeape punched with even greater gusto, its fists swinging so fast they left afterimages.
Only, this wasn't any kind of recognition ritual.
By the time Anthony stood up with lumps all over his head, Primeape had long since vanished.
Only the slow-moving Hypno remained, its eyes flashing blue.
Then a voice sounded in Anthony's mind.
"Mmm… you're suited to go be a Gym Trainer."
Anthony: "???"
No, what was up with today?
Had someone put a bounty on him?
With a whoosh, Hypno teleported away, leaving Anthony with no one to ask.
"Dad!"
In the distance, Rebecca's figure appeared.
"You clearly promised that if you lost this time, you'd come back and be a Gym Trainer!"
"Ah, well…"
Anthony's eyes darted evasively.
"Hahaha, let's get going."
Misty laughed.
"Yeah.
Keep moving forward and we'll reach Gringey City."
Brock pulled out the map.
"Gringey City.
Is there a Gym there?"
Ash's excited voice rose.
"No, but there's the largest Power Plant in all of Kanto."
Natsume thought for a moment, then spoke.
"Pika!"
In Honora's arms, center-parted pricked its ears up.
The Power Plant…
It seemed like a book had mentioned it.
Not disturbing the father and daughter, they followed the crowd out of the town, and once again set off on their journey.
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