It was a bright, sunny afternoon.
At the Pokémon Psychology Counseling Office of Rustboro Pokémon Academy—
“Bzzzzzz—”
A somewhat grating noise came from the Onix coffee grinder.
Nathan Hale had gotten fairly proficient at catching the scattered grounds with a card-shaped handle.
He then used the Geodude powder dispenser and Graveler press to compact the grounds before slotting them into the Blastoise coffee machine and pressing the manual extraction button.
All the while, his eyes remained fixed on a paper lying on his desk.
A Hypothesis on the Differences Between Pokémon Natures and Their Stat Performance.
The paper stayed firmly on topic, with no obvious problems in either its writing or wording.
Drip.
Drip—
By the time the cup of coffee was ready, he had also finished skimming through the page.
He picked up his Psyduck mug, now filled with coffee, and slowly walked over to the window.
Golden sunlight streamed through the glass and fell across his chest.
Dust motes drifted lazily through the beam of light.
Nathan Hale took a small sip of coffee, then opened the window.
The oppressive heat of summer was gradually fading, replaced by the cooler air of late summer.
He couldn’t help taking a deep breath.
After slowly exhaling, he murmured,
“Three days already.
Just like that.”
His name was Nathan Hale, and in his previous life, he had been a seasoned Pokémon enthusiast.
Three days ago, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he had somehow arrived in this world filled with Pokémon.
Naturally, he had gone through a period of confusion and uncertainty when he first arrived.
Fortunately, his predecessor had left him a fairly decent job:
A Pokémon psychology instructor.
As everyone knew, Pokémon were kind, adorable, friendly creatures.
Sure, they occasionally discharged tens of thousands of volts, breathed flames hot enough to melt steel, ate meals weighing one or two tons, and sometimes swallowed their Trainers whole.
Other than that, there wasn’t much to worry about.
And when you remembered that the people commanding these Pokémon were a bunch of brave, resourceful, mentally sound ten-year-olds with iron wills, you couldn’t help but feel completely reassured.
School hadn’t started yet, so there weren’t many students on campus.
The athletic field was deserted as well, save for a few school employees using several Machoke to clear weeds.
Nathan Hale took another sip of coffee as he returned to his desk.
Actually, even once school starts, I probably won’t be very busy.
He grumbled inwardly as he turned on the computer.
He logged into the official Pokémon League website.
The homepage was flooded with Pokémon-related news, with one headline dominating the page:
Another Prodigy Emerges from the Dragon Clan!
“Huh.
An old acquaintance.”
Well, an “old acquaintance” in the sense that Nathan Hale knew of him, while the other man had no idea who Nathan Hale was.
Beneath the headline was a promotional poster.
It featured a young man with short reddish-brown hair and a resolute face, wearing a confident smile.
He was dressed in a dark blue investigator’s uniform and wore a striking red-lined cape.
Standing beside him were a roaring Charizard and a ferocious-looking Gyarados.
Smaller text beneath the image read:
“The Dragon Master Lance Joins the Kanto League Investigation Division!
Specializes in the Training and Battle of Dragon-type Pokémon.
Current Partners: Charizard, Gyarados.”
If even one of those Pokémon hadn’t had the Flying type, Nathan Hale might have believed the article.
“Sigh.
This world isn’t exactly peaceful, either.”
Nathan Hale sighed quietly.
The very existence of “investigators” was proof enough.
From what he’d learned over the past few days, he’d been shocked to discover that the mortality rate among Pokémon Trainers was actually quite high.
Sure, some Pokémon were naturally friendly toward humans, but there were always Pokémon that harbored considerable hostility toward them.
And getting caught in an opponent’s move and injured during a battle was hardly unusual, either.
Not everyone had the physique of the legendary Super Rookie Ash Ketchum.
Of course, Poké Balls weren’t expensive, and even ordinary people had opportunities to catch Pokémon.
There were plenty of people who loved Pokémon and owned one or two themselves.
But there was still a huge difference between such people and actual Pokémon Trainers.
To become a truly qualified Pokémon Trainer, one first needed sufficient knowledge, resources, wealth, and even connections.
Still, since he’d already ended up here, Nathan Hale naturally wanted to test the waters of the Trainer profession.
But with his current circumstances—
“I feel like going for a Pokémon Professor’s degree would be more realistic.”
Yet how easy was that supposed to be?
Nathan Hale shook his head.
After briefly scanning a few more pieces of news, he clicked into the section specifically for Pokémon professors and researchers.
He logged into his account.
His credentials appeared on the main page, along with every paper and research project he had published.
His predecessor had once been a Pokémon scholar, and he too had dreamed of pursuing the highest academic degree in the Pokémon world.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten very far before reality had beaten him down.
Pokémon psychology wasn’t exactly a popular field of research.
To make matters worse, his predecessor’s particular focus was the potential relationship between Pokémon emotions, battle performance, and their Trainers.
Put simply, it was essentially an in-depth analysis of phrases like “Get up!” and “Hang in there!”
But as someone who had crossed over from another world, Nathan Hale felt he could make use of his own advantages and give his predecessor’s research topic a tiny adjustment.
For example:
The Potential Relationship Between Pokémon Natures and Their Stat Values.
With that, the direction of the research suddenly became much clearer.
He had even tried writing a paper outlining his hypothesis and was preparing to publish it.
“Beep-beep!”
Just as Nathan Hale was browsing through his predecessor’s papers, a chat window suddenly began flashing.
He clicked on it.
Apparently, a user named “Who Am I” had sent him a message.
“What is the meaning of Pokémon battles?”
His predecessor had once opened a small online channel called “Nathan Hale’s Pokémon Psychology Counseling Office.”
The purpose was to interact with a wider variety of Pokémon, learn more about their psychology, and use the channel as one of his sources for collecting research material.
Unfortunately, his predecessor wasn’t particularly famous.
And online psychological counseling didn’t exactly seem very reliable to most people, so hardly anyone ever sought him out.
Only a handful of people had contacted him since the channel opened.
He hadn’t expected someone to show up today.
Without a second thought, Nathan Hale lightly tapped the keyboard and typed two words.
“To become stronger.”
“Beep-beep!”
The other person’s reply came far faster than he’d expected.
He opened it.
“And what is the meaning of becoming stronger?”
Huh?
Not a chūnibyō kid?
From what he remembered, the few counseling sessions his predecessor had conducted had all involved obvious teenage edgelords.
Telling them “to become stronger” was usually enough to get them fired up.
He hadn’t expected this person to be different.
Before Nathan Hale could type a reply, another message appeared.
“What if you’re already the strongest?”
Nathan Hale’s mouth twitched when he saw that.
That’s quite a claim.
Who would dare call themselves the strongest?
Even future Champions probably wouldn’t dare make such a statement, would they?
Nathan Hale glanced at the user’s name: “Who Am I.”
Clearly, this person had serious doubts about their own existence and value, yet at the same time, they spoke with absolute certainty about their Pokémon being the strongest.
After thinking for a moment, he began typing again.
“Sorry.
I was joking earlier.”
“What is the meaning of Pokémon battles?
No one can give a completely accurate definition.
Everyone has their own understanding.
Some people want to become stronger.
Others simply enjoy battling—the joy and glory of victory, the adrenaline of a heated fight, or the deeper connection they form with their Pokémon through battle.
You and your Pokémon need to find the answer together.”
This time, the reply didn’t come nearly as quickly.
Perhaps the other person was pondering Nathan Hale’s somewhat canned-sounding response.
After quite a while, another message finally appeared.
“He seems to really enjoy the sense of superiority that comes with possessing power.”
He?
Nathan Hale froze for a moment.
Did they make a typo?
Years of writing papers had made him particularly sensitive to wording.
“That might simply be the way he enjoys battling.
But Pokémon don’t exist solely for battle, either.
You could try doing something together that has nothing to do with battling—something that helps the two of you understand each other better.”
“Something?”
“For example…
sharing a meal you both enjoy, watching a movie together, or…
cooking a meal together?”
“Cooking?”
There was actually very little a person could accomplish through online psychological counseling.
As a psychology researcher, Nathan Hale tried to construct a psychological profile based on what the other person had said.
There wasn’t enough information to draw any firm conclusions, so what he came up with was contradictory.
Arrogant, yet plagued by extreme self-doubt.
“I’ll try talking to that person.”
Just as Nathan Hale was considering whether the other party might need an in-person consultation, another message arrived.
He stared at the three words: “that person.”
He went blank for a moment.
Wait!
The person on the other end…
isn’t actually a Trainer?!
Before he could recover from his shock, the other person’s avatar had already gone dark.
Nathan Hale pressed his lips together and sat there in a daze for a long while before finally coming back to his senses.
So…
the person he’d just been chatting with…
Was a Pokémon?
His eyes drifted toward the channel’s name:
“Nathan Hale’s Pokémon Psychology Counseling Office.”
Come to think of it, there wasn’t actually anything wrong with that.
If it was a Pokémon psychology counseling office, shouldn’t he be providing psychological counseling to Pokémon?
But who could have imagined that an actual Pokémon would come looking for psychological counseling all on its own?
Nathan Hale opened and closed his mouth.
In the end, all he managed to say was—
“…Pretty good at typing.”