...
"Bulbasaur, use Tackle!" Kenji shrieked, seeing his Vine Whip miss by a mile.
But seriously, the kid didn't even consider that if Bulbasaur couldn't hit a damn Weedle with a ranged attack, how the hell was he going to land a basic charge? What a genius.
"Weedle, String Shot, aim for his eyes," Natsu calmly commanded.
The Weedle, now realizing that Bulbasaur was less of a threat than a fluffy pillow, seemed to relax.
Hissssss!
A bundle of bright white silk threads shot out, landing precisely between Bulbasaur's eyes, blinding him instantly.
"Da Na!!" His vision suddenly obscured, Bulbasaur panicked, interrupting his own pathetic attempt at an attack.
"Bulbasaur!" Kenji yelled, a little panicked, but clearly couldn't think of a goddamn way to deal with it. This was the glorious lack of combat experience and a Trainer's utter inflexibility showing.
Of course, it was also because Bulbasaur's training was so pathetically inadequate that he was too slow to dodge, making him an easy target for Weedle's eye-shot.
"Wrap him up."
And then the Weedle zipped quickly across the ground, the white silk thread endlessly spewing from his mouth, circle after circle, transforming Bulbasaur into a silk-covered lump.
"Dana." The Bulbasaur, now completely covered except for his head and unable to see a damn thing, could only let out a pathetic cry for help.
"Stop! Stop!" Kenji screamed, running forward with clumsy, sensual steps towards his Bulbasaur, reaching out to pull the silk thread off, only to get stuck by the sticky mess himself. What a clumsy oaf.
"It's shit for you, Weedle." Natsu stepped in and recalled his Weedle. The Weedle whipped his tail across the silk thread, breaking the layers, and Bulbasaur was finally liberated from his silken prison.
Kenji hugged his Bulbasaur. "Bulbasaur, are you all right?"
"Dah." The Bulbasaur shook his head, then eyed the Weedle with a mix of awe and sheer terror.
The Weedle puffed out his chest, looking "proud" like a general returning from a glorious victory.
"Your combat experience is almost zero, and your commands in battle lack any flexibility," Natsu explained truthfully, trying to educate the little rich kid. "Actually, Bulbasaur isn't weak, and my Weedle isn't that strong. In a normal battle, we might even lose, sometimes."
"Woo?" The Weedle looked a little put out, hearing Natsu imply he was inferior to a pathetic Bulbasaur.
Natsu reached out and touched his back. "Don't be so quick to deny it, you little shit. Isn't our purpose here to challenge the impossible and make you stronger? Only by recognizing your own shortcomings can you truly grow."
Weedle, after beating a Rattata and a Bulbasaur in quick succession, was getting a little too confident, his tiny head swelling. Natsu, as his Trainer, had to knock him down a peg.
Confidence was good, but blind confidence was a recipe for disaster.
"Woo," the Weedle whimpered, bowing his head, seemingly taken aback by Natsu's bluntness. But he recovered quickly. He knew Natsu was right. They were here to get stronger. Admitting that others were stronger wasn't the end of the world.
Natsu looked satisfied, gently rubbing the Weedle's back. Kenji watched him, a look of hesitation on his face.
Noticing his expression, Natsu said, "According to club rules, you still have 50 minutes. Do you want to continue the fight?" Every sparring partner in the club was billed by time. Each hour was charged separately, and anything less than an hour was rounded up.
"I…" Kenji started. Natsu's remarks hadn't just deflated Weedle's overconfidence; they'd hit Kenji hard too. It turned out Bulbasaur lost because he, the Trainer, was the main reason. What a shocker.
"Actually, you've already learned a lot of theoretical knowledge, which should include combat and training. What you lack is experience, and you need to have enough knowledge about your own Pokémon," Natsu added.
"How do you learn more about your Pokémon?" Kenji blinked, asking curiously.
"Training. Training. Have you trained your Bulbasaur?"
"No, I just took it home from the Trainer building yesterday," Kenji admitted.
"That's it then. Bulbasaur has a very high potential. Train hard, and you'll see the difference." It was pretty much as Natsu had guessed.
"Then how did you train? Your Weedle is so strong." Losing the battle was one thing, but losing to a Weedle had deeply frustrated him.
"I can understand that," Natsu said, raising his brows. "Do you want to switch from combat sparring to training sparring?" He was ecstatic. Just today they were searching for a job, and neither Weedle nor he had managed to get their daily training in. He thought they'd have no chance, but now, he could earn money and train at the same time. The club offered this service too: training sparring.
"Yes!" Kenji nodded vigorously.
"Okay." Natsu put the Weedle back on the ground. "Weedle, since that's the case, let's make up for the training we missed today."
"Woooo!!" The Weedle's spirits soared. After Natsu told him he wasn't as good as Bulbasaur, he wanted to get stronger even faster.
Clap. Natsu took off his ill-fitting suit jacket, revealing a thin, dark, heavily scarred upper body. Kenji fell silent, gaping at the scars.
"We'll train, and you can watch us. If you want, you can follow along. If you have any questions, you can ask me. Maybe I can give you some answers," Natsu offered. He finished speaking, and the Weedle's training began.
Because they were in the club's training room, they had access to all sorts of professional training equipment, which was much more effective than training out in the damn wilderness.
Of course, it was also more tiring. Whenever the Weedle saw Natsu's persistence, he too would grit his teeth and push through.
And Kenji actually took his Bulbasaur to do some tentative training. After a little miming of Natsu's movements, he immediately realized that training was not easy. At the same time, he'd occasionally ask questions, and Natsu would try to give some answers that might not be standard but were definitely backed by results.
Soon, one hour of sparring time passed. As the bell rang in the training room, Kenji waved his hand and booked Natsu and Weedle for another three hours, without batting an eye. What a bold, rich little bastard. This gave Natsu and Weedle the time to complete their basic training for the day.
Three hours later, the previously chatty Kenji was completely awestruck by Natsu and the Weedle, not because they'd beaten him, but because of their sheer, brutal hard work. Those who worked hard, he realized, were truly worthy of admiration.
Meanwhile, Natsu had gained his first loyal client at the Silph Pokémon Battle Club.
"This time I learned a lot. I'll book you again next time. I'm going back to tell a few of my classmates to let them all come here to train with you," Kenji chirped as he left the hall.
Natsu watched him go. He could earn money and train at the same time. It felt good.
Anna next to him poked his arm curiously. "It's amazing, Natsu. You got a loyal customer on your first day, and he looks like he'll keep sending more your way."
"It's luck," Natsu said with a smile, hugging the Weedle, who was utterly exhausted from training.
Anna pouted. In her heart, she reaffirmed her initial evaluation of Natsu: "the one with good luck."
This time, he really was lucky. In her experience, the most common reason sparring partners at the club left was because their Pokémon were utterly wrecked during battles. A lot of people came to the club just to vent their frustrations, so they didn't give a damn about going easy on the sparring partners. With a Weedle's flimsy body, she thought Natsu wouldn't last more than a few days.
"Here, this is your reward for this sparring session," she said, handing him a few Alliance Coins.
"So much?" Natsu was a little surprised. He took the money and counted it: 320 Alliance Coins. Holy shit!
Anna rolled her eyes. "You're a Primary Rank sparring partner. The fee is 400 per session, which is 80 per hour. 320 for 4 hours, settled immediately after the sparring is over."
Sure enough, only seriously rich people could afford memberships at the Silph Pokémon Battle Club. Natsu figured the middle-school junior Kenji's monthly pocket money was probably several times his own salary.
"Thank you," Natsu genuinely thanked her. The only thing he needed right now was money. And lots of it.
"By the way, I'm curious, how much is an Intermediate Rank sparring session?" he asked.
"An Intermediate Rank is twice yours, a Top Rank is four times yours, and an Elite Rank is ten times yours," Anna shrugged. "Of course, there are higher ranks, but I don't know much about those."
Geez. "Then how do you get promoted, how do you improve your professional title?"
"The number of members you work with and your strength. I don't know the specifics; that's all the director's responsibility. It's not easy, anyway."
Natsu nodded, thanked her again, and took the Weedle back to their room for some much-needed rest.
...
(End of this chapter)