Weeks had passed since the season's start, and Gladion's mind was a mix of amusement and exasperation as he faced a parade of rookie trainers, mostly chasing their first or second badge.
First-badge kids were mostly local, starting their journey from Moonwood town or nearby towns or Cereleun city.
Second-badge challengers come from Pewter city.
The challengers varied wildly—some sharp, like Haru with his clever Poliwag, others… less so. And Gladion was beginning to understand why parents fuss so much about kids being troublesome.
'Kids are dumb, reckless, stupid, crazy—Arceus, the list goes on.'
Gladion's thought as he fought another dumb kid
He replayed the week's events in his mind 'One kid sent a Pidgey against my Ekans and cried when it got Wrapped. Another tried to 'befriend' my Meowth mid-battle, tossing a berry like it was a petting zoo.'
He recalled a girl who forgot her Squirtle's moves, yelling "Do the water thing!" while Meowth scratched it senseless. 'They're fearless, I'll give 'em that, but half don't know a Tackle from a Tail Whip.'
'Yesterday, a boy tripped on his own shoelaces, dropped his Poké Ball, and his Rattata ran into the stands, stealing a fan's popcorn.'
Gladion had to pause the match while Guy, his Machamp at the gate, chased the Rattata, shouting "YOUTHFUL SPIRIT!" and flexing in his neon "YOUTH!" shirt, only to trip over a cable, flattening a ticket booth.
Gladion sighed, 'This is my life now.'
Some highlights—or lowlights—stood out, testing Gladion's patience. One match, a scrawny kid named Timmy, barely 10, faced Gladion for a first badge on a rock field.
Timmy's Oddish, a scrappy little plant, had shocked everyone by outlasting Gladion's Staryu, landing a lucky Absorb to drain its stamina. 'Kid got cocky,' Gladion recalled, his smirk wry. 'Thought he had me beat.'
He sent out Poliwag next, a calculated move to finish the match. Poliwag's Bubble Beam swept Oddish aside, and when Timmy sent his Vulpix—a Fire-type clearly meant to counter a different type—Poliwag's Water Gun doused it, knocking it out.
"That's not fair!" Timmy wailed, stomping his sneakers, his face red as a Tamato Berry. "You're a General-type Gym, not a Water-type Gym! Why'd you use two Water Pokémon? I prepared for, like, a Bug and a Grass or something other than One water type!" He flailed,
"I'm telling the League! This is cheating! You can't use the same type twice!" The crowd snickered, a local filming for PokéGram, while Gladion pinched his nose, his psychic aura flickering with exasperation. 'Kid's throwing a fit like I broke some sacred rule.'
"Timmy," Gladion said, his voice calm but firm, stepping forward. "A General-type Gym means I can use any type, including multiple of the same type. You think in a League tournament, your opponent's gonna say, 'Oh, you want me to use a Grass-type? Sure!'?" He crossed his arms, smirking.
"Battles don't work like that. You face what's thrown at you—adapt or lose." Timmy, undeterred, stomped again, his cap flying off. "It's still unfair! I trained Vulpix for a Bug-type or grass type! You tricked me!" He pointed dramatically, tripping over a rock, landing on his butt with a yelp.
Gladion sighed, offering a hand. "Get up. Train harder, learn your matchups. Come back when you're ready." Timmy huffed, snatching his cap, muttering, "Stupid water Gym…" as he stormed off.
Another incident cemented Gladion's growing theory that luck was as crucial as skill—and kids hated hearing it.
A trainer named Kenta, a lanky 11-year-old with a Pewter badge, challenged for his second badge. The field selector spun—forest, desert, water—landing on a water field, the arena flooding with shallow streams and floating platforms.
Kenta's face fell, his Onix and Mankey—Rock and Fighting-types—clearly disadvantaged.
Before the match even started, he complained, waving his arms. "A water field? That's so unfair! My Onix can't move right, and Mankey hates water! Why can't it be a rock field? This is rigged!" He glared at the referee, who shrugged, while Guy at the gate shouted, [YOUTH doesn't complain—it FIGHTS!]
Gladion had to give another lecture "Kenta, listen up. Battles aren't fairytale arenas where the field always suits you. Luck's part of it—always has been. You get a water field, a sandstorm, you adapt. If Team Rocket jumps you in a cave, they won't wait for you to pick a nice dry spot. They'll hit you where you stand."
Kenta crossed his arms, muttering, "Still sucks…" Gladion's smirk sharpened. "Life's not fair, kid. You think I planned for Pryce's ice Pokemon to freeze my Zeus's leg? No—I adapted, and I won. Train your team to handle any terrain. Onix can't swim? Teach it long range moves to use from the floating platforms. Mankey's slipping? Use its agility to leap platforms. Luck deals the cards; skill plays the hand."
He paused, his psychic senses catching Kenta's frustration softening. "Here's your lecture on luck: it's a factor, not an excuse. Good trainers turn bad luck into opportunity. A water field screws your Onix? Use its weight to anchor, not flail. Mankey's weak here? Train it to dodge on slick surfaces. The best trainers—Champions, Aces—win because they don't whine about the field; they master it." Kenta nodded slowly, his scowl fading.
"Okay… I'll try." Gladion nodded back. "Good. Now battle." The match was quick—Kenta's Onix sank under Poliwag's Bubble Beam, and Mankey slipped, knocked out by Meowth's Scratch—but Kenta left with a fire in his eyes, vowing to return.
Gladion though smiled a little at these memories, 'At least they keep things interesting. And well they give so much meme material. My gym's Pokegram page is getting so many followers with them.'
---Author Notes------
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