On a certain sunny afternoon, the golden light streamed through the windows of the Pokemon Psychology Counseling Room at Kanaz Pokemon Academy.
"Buzz, buzz, buzz—"
The somewhat harsh grinding sound echoed from the Onix coffee bean grinder, filling the quiet room with its mechanical rhythm.
Jinghe moved with practiced ease, catching the scattered coffee grounds with a portafilter before using a Geodude powder distributor and Graveler tamper to compress the grounds. Finally, he locked the portafilter into the Blastoise espresso machine and pressed the manual extraction button.
Throughout this entire process, his gaze remained fixed on a research paper spread across his desk.
"Speculation on the Relationship Between Pokemon Personality and Performance Differences."
The paper showed no deviation from its main theme, nor any errors in structure or wording that he could detect.
Drip, drip—
As the coffee finished brewing, he completed his brief review of the page's contents. Picking up the Psyduck mug now filled with aromatic coffee, he walked slowly toward the window.
The brilliant golden sunlight pierced through the glass, warming his chest as tiny particles of dust danced lazily in the light beams.
Jinghe took a small sip of his coffee and opened the window. The late summer air had gradually shed its oppressive heat, prompting him to take a deep breath of the refreshing breeze. As he slowly exhaled, he murmured a quiet observation:
"Hard to believe it's already been three days."
His name was Jinghe, and in his previous life, he had been a devoted Pokemon enthusiast. Three days ago, he had inexplicably found himself transported to this world filled with Pokemon.
During his initial arrival, he had experienced his share of confusion and uncertainty. Fortunately, the original owner of this body had left him with a decent job—Pokemon Psychology Instructor.
Everyone knows that Pokemon are gentle, adorable, and friendly creatures. Aside from occasionally releasing ten thousand volts of electricity, breathing flames at several hundred degrees, consuming meals weighing a ton or two, and swallowing their trainers dozens of times over, they're really quite harmless.
Moreover, just thinking about how these Pokemon are commanded by determined, mentally sound, brave and strategic ten-year-olds brings such peace of mind.
Since school hadn't started yet, there were few students on campus. The playground stood empty except for several staff members working alongside a few Machop to clear weeds from the grounds.
Jinghe continued sipping his coffee as he returned to his office desk.
'Actually, even when school starts, I won't be that busy,' he thought to himself as he powered on his computer.
He logged into the Pokemon League's official website. The screen filled with countless Pokemon-related news stories, topped by today's headline: "The Dragon Tamer Clan Produces Another Genius!"
"Well, well, an old acquaintance," he muttered, though it was the kind of acquaintance where he knew them, but they certainly didn't know him.
Below the headline was an attached poster featuring a young man with short reddish-brown hair, a determined expression, and a confident smile. He wore the deep blue uniform of a Search Officer, complete with an impressive red-lined cape flowing behind him.
Standing beside him were a Charizard roaring toward the sky and a fierce-looking Gyarados. Smaller text on the poster read: "'Dragon Master' Lance Joins the Kanto League Investigation Department! Specializes in Dragon-type Pokemon training and battle, specifically: Charizard, Gyarados."
If even one of those Pokemon wasn't a Flying-type, he might have believed this news story.
"Sigh, this world isn't exactly peaceful either," Jinghe sighed quietly.
The very existence of "Search Officers" served as proof of that fact. Through his research over the past few days, he had made the alarming discovery that trainer mortality rates were surprisingly high.
After all, while some Pokemon were friendly toward humans, there were always others that harbored considerable hostility toward people. Furthermore, accidentally getting hit by an opponent's Pokemon's attack during battle and sustaining injuries was far from uncommon.
Not everyone possessed the superhuman constitution of a certain protagonist from Pallet Town.
Of course, Pokeballs weren't expensive, and ordinary people had opportunities to capture Pokemon. There were plenty of people who loved and owned Pokemon. However, this demographic differed significantly from actual "trainers."
To become a qualified trainer required sufficient knowledge, resources, wealth, and even connections.
Still, now that he was here, Jinghe naturally wanted to try his hand at the trainer profession. But given his current circumstances and resources, he felt that "pursuing a Pokemon Doctorate degree would be more realistic."
Yet how could such a thing be easy?
Jinghe shook his head and briefly scanned through various other news stories before clicking on a channel specifically for Pokemon Doctors and researchers.
He logged into his account. The main page displayed his identity information along with all the papers and research topics he had published.
The original owner had been a Pokemon scholar who once harbored dreams of achieving the highest academic degree in the Pokemon world. However, he hadn't pursued it for long before reality brought those dreams crashing down.
Pokemon Psychology wasn't exactly a popular research field, and the original owner's specific research focus was "The Potential Connection Between Pokemon Emotions, Performance Expression, and Trainers."
Simply put, it was essentially an in-depth analysis of phrases like "hang in there" and "you can do it."
However, as someone who had crossed over from another world, Jinghe felt he could leverage his advantages to make some small adjustments to the original owner's research topic.
For example: "The Potential Connection Between Pokemon Nature and Ability Values."
With this shift, the research direction suddenly became much clearer. He had even attempted to write a speculative paper on the subject, which he was preparing to publish.
"Beep beep!"
Just as he was browsing through the original owner's papers, a chat channel notification suddenly began flashing.
Upon clicking it, he discovered a user named "Who Am I" had sent him a message: "What is the meaning of Pokemon battles?"
The original owner had established a small channel on the website called "Jinghe's Pokemon Psychology Counseling Room." His goal had been to interact with more diverse Pokemon and understand their psychology better, using it as one of his research material collection windows.
Unfortunately, the original owner lacked fame, and online psychological counseling didn't seem particularly reliable, so few people inquired. Since its establishment, only a handful of people had sought consultation.
He hadn't expected someone to suddenly contact him today.
Without hesitation, Jinghe tapped the keyboard and typed two words: "Getting stronger."
"Beep beep!"
The other party's response came faster than he had anticipated. When he opened it, it read: "What is the meaning of getting stronger?"
'Hmm? Not a chuunibyou teenager?' he wondered.
In his memories, the original owner's few counseling sessions had involved obviously adolescent individuals who would become fired up with determination after hearing "getting stronger."
This time seemed different. Before he could type a response, another message appeared: "What if one is already the strongest?"
Seeing this message, Jinghe's mouth twitched slightly. That was quite an arrogant claim.
Who would dare say they were the strongest? Even future champions wouldn't claim to be the absolute strongest, would they?
Jinghe glanced at the other party's username, "Who Am I." This clearly indicated someone with strong doubts about their own existence and value, yet they spoke with such certainty about being the strongest.
After thinking for a moment, he began typing skillfully: "Sorry, I was joking earlier."
"What is the meaning of Pokemon battles? No one can provide a completely accurate definition—everyone has their own understanding. Some want to become stronger, while others purely enjoy battling, savoring the joy and glory of victory, relishing the rush of adrenaline, and enjoying deeper communication with their Pokemon through combat. You and your Pokemon need to find that answer together."
This time, the other party's response wasn't as quick. They were probably contemplating his words, which might have sounded somewhat like generic advice.
After quite a while, another message finally appeared: "He seems to really enjoy the sense of superiority that power brings."
He?
Jinghe paused, momentarily confused. Was that a typo?
Due to his paper writing, he had developed a certain sensitivity to word choice.
"That might just be its way of enjoying battle. However, Pokemon don't exist solely for fighting. You could try doing things outside of battle—activities that help you understand each other better," Jinghe replied.
"Things?"
"For example... sharing a meal that you both enjoy, watching a movie together, or perhaps... cooking a meal together?"
"Cooking?"
Online psychological counseling was actually quite limited in what it could accomplish. As a psychology researcher, Jinghe attempted to create a profile based on their conversation.
The information was insufficient, leading to contradictory conclusions: arrogant yet extremely self-doubting.
"I'll try talking to that person."
Just as Jinghe was considering whether the other party needed offline consultation, another message arrived.
Looking at the words "that person" on his screen, he felt somewhat disoriented.
Wait a minute! The person on the other side... wasn't actually a trainer?!
Before he could recover from his surprise, the other party's avatar had already gone dark.
Jinghe pressed his lips together and sat in stunned silence for quite some time before slowly regaining his composure.
So the one he had been chatting with... was actually a Pokemon?
He glanced at his channel name: "Jinghe's Pokemon Psychology Counseling Room."
Come to think of it, there really wasn't anything wrong with that. Since it was a "Pokemon Psychology Counseling Room," shouldn't it provide psychological counseling to Pokemon?
But who would have thought that a Pokemon would actually seek out psychological counseling on its own?
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he managed to squeeze out a single observation:
"...Pretty good at typing."