Chapter 3: Shadows of Sleep and Stardom
The neon pulse of Goldenrod City flickered beyond Souichi Kiruma's window, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across his cluttered apartment. The faint hum of his laptop fan mingled with the rhythmic patter of rain, a familiar Johto evening serenade that grounded him amidst the chaos of his new reality. Souichi adjusted his headset, the mic hovering just shy of his lips, and flashed a grin at the webcam perched atop his desk. The screen glowed with the frenetic energy of his PokéNet livestream, the chat window a whirlwind of emojis, memes, and rapid-fire comments. His audience—loyal fans and curious newcomers drawn by his viral Hoenn quip—was alive with anticipation, their barrage of messages scrolling faster than a Dodrio's sprint.
"Alright, Johto squad, settle down!" Souichi's voice, warm and teasing, cut through the digital din. "I see you spamming 'Human Emperor' again. Keep it up, and I'll have to trademark it." The chat exploded with laughing Pikachu emojis and cries of *"Welcome back, Emperor Souichi!"* He leaned back, his black hoodie slightly rumpled, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow catching the light. At eighteen, Souichi was no stranger to attention—his sharp jawline, tousled black hair, and piercing gray eyes had earned him a fanbase that skewed heavily toward enthusiastic admirers. *Girl killer? Maybe,* he thought with a wry smirk, recalling the flood of "husband" and "wife" comments that peppered his streams. *But it's the tactics that keep 'em coming back.*
The main screen displayed *Pokémon Masters*, the League-sanctioned online battle simulator that dominated the competitive scene. Even Champions like Lance and Cynthia occasionally logged in to test new strategies, their matches dissected by fans across the PokéNet. Souichi's setup was modest—a secondhand laptop, a cracked Pokégear synced to his stream, and a single monitor—but his charisma and knack for unorthodox plays had carved him a niche. Tonight's focus: Butterfree's Hypnosis Powder, a tactic as devious as it was effective. *In honor of Silk,* he'd announced, *who's one step closer to shaking the skies.*
The chat was already ablaze:
*"Yo, Souichi, where's the stream? Still lost in Hoenn?"*
*"Bet Groudon slid-tackled him into next week!"*
*"New fan here—did this guy really call out Groudon and Kyogre? Emperor vibes!"*
*"Caterpie to Rayquaza arc when??"*
Souichi chuckled, his fingers dancing across the keyboard to queue up a doubles match. "Patience, folks. I was busy saving Hoenn, riding Silk's Rayquaza form to glory. Groudon and Kyogre? Total pushovers." The chat erupted in disbelief, peppered with *"AWSL!"* and *"Emperor's bluffing again!"* He let the jest hang, his grin masking the truth: that insane moment in Sootopolis, atop a juvenile Rayquaza, staring down two primordial gods. The memory sent a shiver down his spine, but he buried it beneath his showman's flair. *No one needs to know how close I came to being fish food.*
His rise to PokéNet fame had been an accident. That flippant post—*"Rayquaza's got this, no sweat"*—had sparked a meme storm, his username plastered across forums with crowns and dragon emojis. Fans had dug up his streaming profile, and overnight, his modest channel had ballooned. Diehards dubbed him "Emperor Souichi," a nod to his bold claim, while newcomers flocked for the memes and stayed for his wit. For a second-tier streamer scraping by on instant ramen and Poké Mart shifts, the influx of views was a lifeline. *Too bad the system doesn't pay rent,* he thought, glancing at the holographic panel only he could see:
[Task Update: Finishing Touch Proficiency: 30%. Caterpie's draconic potential stabilizing. Next objective: Enhance control to 50% before primordial resurgence.]
Silk, sprawled on a cushion nearby, chirped softly, its antennae twitching as if sensing its trainer's thoughts. The Caterpie's green hide shimmered faintly, a subtle echo of the Rayquaza it had briefly become. Souichi's heart swelled—pride, fear, and a flicker of awe. *You're rewriting the rules, buddy. Let's not blow up the apartment first.*
A dazzling flash snapped his focus back to the stream. A Master Ball, the platform's priciest gift, streaked across the screen with a burst of confetti and sparkles. The chat went wild: *"Big spender alert!"* *"Who's the boss?!"* The sender's ID—*StarlitDrifloon*—marked them as a recent follower, already topping his fan leaderboard with jaw-dropping generosity. *Rich fan? Potential ally?* Souichi mused, his tone brightening. "Yo, StarlitDrifloon, you're keeping my fridge stocked! Master Ball means we're eating more than instant noodles tonight. Let's dive in—Butterfree's sleep-dust massacre awaits!"
The match loaded, pitting Souichi's virtual Butterfree and a partnered Machamp against an opponent tagged *CeruleanMermaid*. The chat buzzed with anticipation, fans tossing bets on how fast he'd knock out the enemy team. Souichi's strategy was ruthless: Butterfree's Compound Eyes boosted Hypnosis Powder's accuracy to a near-guaranteed 97.5%, a sleep-inducing nightmare that locked down foes while Machamp's raw power cleaned up. *Dirty? Sure. Effective? Absolutely.* He leaned into the mic, voice dripping with mock menace. "This is for Silk's future wings. Let's put 'em to sleep and dream of dragons."
The battle was a clinic in controlled chaos. Butterfree fluttered onto the field, wings scattering a shimmering cloud of Hypnosis Powder that blanketed the opponent's Gyarados and Starmie. Both Pokémon slumped, eyes spiraling shut as the chat erupted: *"SLEPT!"* *"This is straight-up bullying!"* Machamp followed, its four fists glowing with Dynamic Punch, hammering the snoozing foes into oblivion. The opponent, *CeruleanMermaid*, managed a single Water Pulse before their team crumbled under Souichi's onslaught. *Victory!* flashed across the screen, and the chat lost it: *"Too dirty, Emperor!"* *"Butterfree's a war criminal now!"*
Souichi laughed, leaning back with a flourish. "Hypnosis Powder's the real MVP. Forget Gigantamax Butterfree's fancy shadow tricks—this is the sleep spell that wins wars." He winked at the camera, his easy charm masking the adrenaline still coursing through him. *If only they knew Silk's practicing moves that could crack mountains.* The chat rolled on, fans speculating about his real-life Caterpie: *"Why's Silk still a Caterpie? Saving for the Rayquaza glow-up?"* *"Bet he's holding off evolution for style points."*
He played along, voice light but deflecting the truth. "What's wrong with Caterpie? Pryce, that icy Johto Gym Leader, runs a Piloswine that's unevolved and still wrecks shop. Silk's just biding its time, ready to drop a Finishing Touch that'll make legends cry." The chat ate it up, tossing out memes of Caterpie wielding dragon claws. Souichi's grin hid his unease—Silk's evolution wasn't a choice but a ticking destiny, tied to a system that didn't negotiate.
Meanwhile, in Cerulean City, Kanto, a girl with an orange side braid slumped in her chair, staring at her *Pokémon Masters* screen. The words *Game Over* mocked her, the battle replay looping Butterfree's infuriating sleep trap. Misty, the Cerulean Gym Leader, groaned, her trademark mermaid ponytail bobbing as she tossed her controller onto the desk. "What kind of suffocating tactic is *that*?" she muttered, her freckled face twisting into a scowl that could rival a Gyarados's glare. Her Pokémon—virtual stand-ins for her beloved water squad—had been rendered useless, hypnotized and pummeled without landing a single solid hit. *Hypnosis Powder? More like a war crime.*
Misty leaned back, the Gym's aquarium walls casting rippling blue light across her office. Her Staryu bobbed in a nearby tank, oblivious to her virtual defeat. She'd faced dirty tactics before—sleep, paralysis, even the occasional Attract spam—but this was next-level. The streamer, *EmperorSouichi*, had played her like a fiddle, his Butterfree dancing circles around her team. She squinted at his username, a nagging familiarity tugging at her memory. "Souichi Kiruma…" she murmured, tapping her chin. "Why do I know that name?"
Her Pokégear pinged, pulling her attention to a PokéNet forum thread: *"Emperor Souichi's Hoenn Saga: Did He Really Face the Primordials?"* The post was a wildfire of speculation, tying his viral *"I'll take action"* quip to rumors of a mysterious trainer spotted during the Groudon-Kyogre clash. Misty's eyes narrowed. *No way. A kid with a Caterpie?* But the chatter was relentless: eyewitnesses claiming a green dragon—not the true Rayquaza—had intervened, piloted by a young trainer with Johto roots. Her curiosity piqued, Misty scrolled through Souichi's stream archive, pausing on a clip of him joking about "riding Rayquaza." His easy smile and sharp wit were disarming, but something in his eyes—a flicker of weight—hinted at truth behind the jest.
Back in Goldenrod, Souichi wrapped his stream, the chat still buzzing with demands for another round. "One more, then I'm out," he teased, queuing another match. Silk, sensing the shift, crawled onto his lap, its antennae brushing his wrist. He glanced down, warmth softening his features. *You're the real star, buddy.* The system's panel flickered: *Proficiency: 32%. Draconic aura detected—stable.* Souichi's pulse quickened. Every step brought Silk closer to its impossible destiny, and him closer to a rematch with gods.
As the next battle loaded, Souichi's thoughts drifted to Hoenn's looming shadow. Groudon and Kyogre wouldn't stay dormant forever. The Sky Pillar beckoned, a beacon of hope and peril. *I need allies—Steven, Wallace, someone who knows legends.* But for now, he had Silk, a livestream full of believers, and a knack for turning underdogs into legends. "Let's make 'em sleep, Johto," he said, voice steady with defiance. The chat roared approval, and Souichi leaned into the fight, one dirty tactic at a time, a trainer carving his name into a world that would soon tremble at his feet.