"System, give me a 20-pull!"
[Ding! 2,000,000 Poké Dollars consumed… drawing…]
[Draw complete! Obtained held items: Light Ball ×2, Rocky Helmet ×3, Shell Bell ×2, Smooth Rock ×2, Big Root ×5!
Obtained: Rare Candy ×5, Audino Mega Stone ×1, TM "Fling"!]
"Holy—Rocky Helmet?!"
Peter immediately pulled out a bright yellow safety helmet from his inventory. Its surface was studded with jagged mineral spikes, giving off a rough, almost dangerous vibe.
Rocky Helmet: A rugged, uneven helmet. When the holder is hit by contact moves, it deals recoil damage to the attacker.
Peter's grin widened.
"Physical attackers… your nightmare just arrived."
He could already picture it—Arboliva or Blissey casually standing there while the opponent punched themselves into oblivion.
As for the Audino evolution line, it functioned similarly to Blissey—something he could consider getting for Whitney in the future.
The rest of the items were just as useful:
Light Ball: Doubles both Attack and Special Attack when held by Pikachu.
Shell Bell: Restores a portion of HP based on damage dealt.
Smooth Rock: Extends the duration of Sandstorm.
And then there was the move:
Fling: Throws the held item at the opponent. Power varies based on the item, and the item is consumed after use.
Peter's eyes lit up.
"Fling is actually insane…"
Without hesitation, he bought multiple copies of the TM and taught it to every Pokémon that could learn it.
Even without Pikachu, Electric Ball + Fling guaranteed paralysis—one of the very few ways to paralyze Ground-types.
And if paired with an Iron Ball, Fling could reach a base power of 130. Under Trick Room, it even synergized with speed control.
Shell Bell worked perfectly for fragile offensive Pokémon like Zoroark, Lopunny, and Indeedee, giving them sustain.
Smooth Rock? Not particularly useful for his team—but still solid.
After organizing everything, Peter headed into the gaming room and plopped down in Lopunny's chair.
Today, Indeedee was already playing.
Perfect.
Time to climb some ranks.
…
Soon, Peter assigned training tasks through the system:
Zoroark → Swords Dance training
Indeedee → Expanding Force training
Eevee → Double-Edge training
Blissey → Body Slam training
After carefully setting everything up, Peter eagerly queued into a match.
But then—
At champion select—
"…Oh no."
Marksman role.
His worst nightmare.
Still, seeing his Pokémon already lock in their picks, he had no choice.
He locked in a white-haired sniper.
Then glanced at Indeedee beside him.
It's fine… even if I miss, she'll carry.
…
Thirty minutes later—
"Defeat."
"Sniper? More like miss-every-shot. You didn't hit a single bullet. Impressive."
"…"
Peter stared blankly at the defeat screen.
Deep self-doubt crept in.
Did I… get worse?
Too much time with Whitney…? Slower hands now??
"No way."
He queued again.
Twenty minutes later—
"Defeat."
Again.
"Defeat."
Again.
"DEFEAT."
"I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS!"
…
Hours passed.
Before the next defeat screen could even finish appearing—
BANG!
Peter slammed his phone onto the desk.
"Trash game! What is this matchmaking?! Why is the enemy team full of top-ranked players?!"
"Ei~"
Indeedee quietly locked her phone. On her screen, a glowing 14.7 MVP badge flickered before fading.
She gently patted Peter's shoulder.
"…Be honest," Peter muttered, turning to her.
"In those games… was I… that bad?"
He listed them off:
"A sniper who never shoots, a Marksman feeding at point-blank range, a carry who doesn't use skills in team fights… was I that obviously terrible?"
Indeedee hesitated.
Before she could answer—
"LUCKY—HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Blissey lost it.
She rolled on the floor laughing, tears streaming down her face.
Even Eevee tried pawing at her to stop—but Blissey was too far gone.
A shadow loomed over her.
Blissey froze.
Slowly looked up.
Peter stood there.
Expression… calm.
Too calm.
"Blissey," he said lightly, "your training results today were excellent."
Blissey blinked.
"So… you'll skip lunch and rest. Continue training."
Blissey: =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̥̇)
…
Exiting the Dream Space, Peter immediately smelled something delicious.
"You're awake, honey! I just finished cooking—come eat!"
Whitney stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron, holding a plate of glossy braised pork that looked absolutely irresistible.
Peter swallowed.
Then looked up.
"…Honey."
"Hmm?"
"…Why are you only wearing an apron?"
"Huh? Oh—I didn't even wash up yet, just tied it quickly like this. Look~"
She turned around playfully, revealing her smooth back barely covered by the tied apron strings.
Peter inhaled slowly.
"…On second thought… maybe we should freshen up first."
His voice lowered as he stepped closer.
In the next moment—
His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward the bathroom.
BANG.
The glass door shut.
"Ah—wait—at least let me take off the apron fi—mmph!"
Whitney's voice dissolved into soft muffled sounds.
It seemed…
Brushing teeth today—
Would be a bit rushed.