Chapter Forty-Five: The First Lesson

Joiying’s words made Zhusuihan think of the Mini Dragon, though its final evolution, Dragonite, was hardly the most imposing version. Well, except for that future Dragonite at Alice’s place, the one with the social boss vibe. It was doubtful even the most eccentric young men could carry off tattooing that Dragonite on themselves.

“Woo woo!”

So from now on, I’ll be the head girl!

“You’re the head girl? Wait till someone even more mature shows up—then what will you do?” Zhusuihan pinched the big face of Lapras. “Headmaster, which class will I be assigned to?”

“First grade. Students like you are always scattered into different classes. Given your excellent exam results, you’ll go straight to Class One.” Joiying smiled, “But if your final assessment falls short of the standard, you’ll be eliminated.”

“A bit of urgency is a good thing.” Zhusuihan had no issue with this elimination system and took the opportunity to treat the revitalized Mightyena.

“I’ve seen your buddy leading a bunch of kids. Maybe the Poochyena who delivered my mail this morning is your relative.”

Mightyena’s fur was rather stiff, not as pleasant to the touch as the green Caterpie in Hinoki Gym—almost prickly. It felt a bit like pine needles, just a tad softer.

“Woof!”

Mightyena decisively distanced itself from Zhusuihan and considered him a total weirdo.

Come back after you’ve washed off the strange scent of that berry ball on your hands!

“Tsk tsk, what a pity.” Zhusuihan’s face gleamed with anticipation. “Headmaster, what about my research?”

“Attend your classes first. After a week, when you’ve adjusted to campus life, then come discuss these things with me.” Joiying said, “The academy sells all the daily necessities, and a reminder—not to wander off to places like the back mountain.”

“Be careful not to harvest your senior sisters’ research results by mistake.”

Zhusuihan’s eyes lit up, “Our school has aged berries?”

“Any golden Razz berries?”

“There are, but they’re not cheap.” Joiying and Chansey walked away. “Besides, those are usually given as rewards to students with outstanding conduct and grades. Good luck.”

Outstanding conduct and grades?

At least within Joiying Academy, there was no need to worry about conduct; as for grades...

Zhusuihan grinned. If his reusable potion research succeeded, it might even make it onto the “Joiying Essential Tools” list.

“Never mind, just give me a few dozen century-old berries first.”

Lapras looked at the muttering, departing Zhusuihan in confusion, tempted to spray him with water to clear his mind.

It seemed the trainer’s brain was muddled by some strange psychic energy.

“You mean, those little gadgets make you uncomfortable?”

Joiying was rather surprised that her advanced medical skills had become a hindrance—she hadn’t participated in the first Kanto League tournament.

Joiying, as the chief of medical support, coordinated the tournament’s operation, but later, when Professor Oak applied to the League for access to secret knowledge, she had sparred with him.

Under Oak’s command were Kangaskhans who could punch Ghost-type Pokémon, and monsters like Dragonite that mastered speed faster than the wind.

But Joiying was no pushover; though she lost, the margin was slight—she even gave Oak a few rounds of old-fashioned fists.

Joiying admitted she was no longer at her peak, but Chansey was different.

Human and Pokémon lifespans were incomparable, yet Chansey reacted to those little gadgets made from berries?

“I think I know what those are.”

In battle, Joiying might not be a match for the combat fanatics, but in ecology and Pokémon studies, her research wouldn’t lose to Oak.

“Legends among the forests, tales spread among caregivers—wherever venomous snakes live, there’s always an antidote nearby.”

Joiying explained, “Translating that, it means if you keep walking, you’ll probably find a Pecha berry tree.”

“Analyzing this restraint relationship, perhaps berries are actually poisonous to you.”

Pokémon, those creatures favored by destiny—in the days before technology, communication between humans and Pokémon always left humans at a disadvantage.

Berries, and the ancient technique of crafting primitive Poké Balls from them, served as countermeasures.

In other words, it might be a natural foe evolved to restrain the Pokémon population, ensuring environmental balance wasn’t destroyed by unchecked numbers.

Wild methods have always been simple and brutal, but to modern people, they carry an ineffable beauty.

“Ancient people—but what era was he from, exactly?”

Zhusuihan’s existence should have been classified as secret knowledge, meaning it should be reported to the League.

Joiying knew about Gu Liu—or rather, the people in Oak’s old circle were all under scrutiny.

Gu Liu was the type who, with one misstep, could become a case study in psychology textbooks—a high-risk figure, red-marked.

Thus, the somewhat lawless Liu Bo concealed Zhusuihan’s origins.

If not for Oak’s advice, she might never have known such a living relic existed.

“That clothing doesn’t belong to any known era.”

Since someone never even considered changing clothes, Joiying easily memorized some of the patterns.

Joiying shook her head. That was normal—if all ancient knowledge were known, the pursuit of history wouldn’t be called archaeology.

The truth about Zhusuihan was perhaps buried deep beneath some patch of earth.

At night, the brightly lit dormitory area welcomed another courier—a sharp-eyed Noctowl.

Seeing Zhusuihan outside, it skipped knocking and airdropped the letter directly before him.

“Let’s see—class members, timetable, and some miscellaneous things. That’s about it.”

As night fell, Zhusuihan had no intention of indulging in the academy’s nightlife—in fact, if he went out now, he’d just be the white-haired monkey for others to laugh at.

Better to set up a lounge chair by the pool and enjoy the nearly pollution-free night sky with Lapras.

Beside him was a small folding table, with drinks and snacks for both Zhusuihan and Lapras. As soon as Lapras gave a low grunt, Zhusuihan would perform his zero-damage snack-and-drink throwing technique.

“It’s lively now. Are you sure you want to attend classes with me?”

Zhusuihan said, “I’ve already checked—the Pokémon in the lake aren’t all wild; some belong to students.”

“Compared to playing with them, going to class with me must be the dullest option.”

Lapras shook its head—who says it’ll be dull? Why can’t I, Dragon, learn more? As a future head girl, not only must I be strong, I must learn to guide juniors!

“Suit yourself—let me know if you change your mind.”

It’s just like children at the start of a holiday, brimming with plans to do pages of homework every day so they can play for the rest—but in reality, this zeal only lasts a few days, then it’s left to fate.

The more laid-back ones wait for the last night’s miracle.

Another berry slice tossed into Lapras’s mouth, Zhusuihan rose from the lounge chair, preparing materials in advance to make energy cubes for Lapras’s breakfast tomorrow.

He placed some water and ice resources’ scraps into the pond, letting them sink freely.

The water was flowing, but the scraps, due to their size, wouldn’t float away, creating a bed rich in elemental energy for Lapras.

“Good night, Lapras. Hope you get used to this new home.”

Lastly, he dropped some whole elemental resources into the water, pulled out his phone, and began recording the time—to calculate how long this batch would sustain consumption.

With time data as auxiliary information, Zhusuihan could accurately monitor Lapras’s physical state and make adjustments.

For Zhusuihan, the first day of school had no odd self-introduction, nor any extra campus handshake sessions—it was straight to class.

The course was titled “Pokémon and Weather Abilities,” essentially a detailed explanation of those Pokémon that can set the weather or terrain.

Strictly speaking, regardless of type, so-called weather and terrain are more like “domains.”

The scope of weather and terrain depends on the Pokémon’s own strength.

The stronger ones can affect the entire stadium; in official matches, protective shields are even needed to limit the range.

In games, whoever sets weather first can be overwritten by the next—this is a matter of turn order, known as weather stealing.

But in reality, there’s no such thing—if you aren’t strong enough, stealing weather as the second move is impossible.

If you set a sandstorm, and someone tries to summon rain, they might not even manage to gather rain clouds; the sand and wind will shred them at the formation stage.

Or in the face of outright defeat, if a trainer still has the leisure to consider weather bonuses, they really don’t deserve to win.

Actual battles require harsher considerations, like the battlefield itself.

As everyone knows, in modern standard matches, all types of battlefields must be cycled through.

If it’s a rocky field, setting a sandstorm and stomping for something like Stealth Rock is excellent.

It can obscure the enemy’s vision, and even if Stealth Rock is shattered, the sandstorm can add strength to the weather effect.

Of course, if it’s a water field and you want to set a sandstorm, don’t bother with rain—one water-type area attack can clear most things, and the water just gets a bit muddier.

Completely random battlefields are essentially giving trainers more experience in adaptation—like rotating young staff through different departments to prepare them for promotion.

You can’t just run sandstorm teams and never leave the desert.

It’s all about clinging to home field advantage, isn’t it?