"Owen, now it's your turn. You and Eevee will be the attackers," Ms. Nina commanded immediately after finishing her explanation.
Owen nodded. To be honest, he had never specifically trained for this. He had to admit Ms. Nina had a point: if a trainer's basic mechanics are lacking, the consequences in a high-stakes battle could be fatal.
Owen issued the order. On the field, Eevee began a fierce assault; the roles were now reversed. Leveraging her Quick Attack speed, Eevee went all out, clearly intent on reclaiming some dignity after the previous drill.
However, the Breloom was clearly a battle-hardened veteran with far more experience than Eevee. Eevee's strikes failed to create any real pressure, and Breloom dodged with effortless grace.
The moment Ms. Nina said, "I'm going to recall Breloom now," Eevee accelerated even further to cut off the retreat.
But the result was... frustrating for Owen.
Ms. Nina smiled faintly and simply raised her arm. As her right arm, positioned at her side, rose to chest level, it paused for less than a second before the red light from the Poké Ball struck the rapidly retreating Breloom with pinpoint accuracy.
It looked as though she hadn't even spent time aiming. The recall happened in the blink of an eye. Breloom vanished, and Eevee skidded to a sharp halt.
"Vee!"
Eevee turned around, giving Owen a look that clearly said: Get it together, partner.
"..." Owen accepted the silent blame.
"Don't be discouraged," Ms. Nina said, recalling her Pokémon and smiling. "These are skills that take years of daily practice to master. In a real fight, it requires perfect coordination between the Pokémon and the trainer. Only then can you achieve the fastest possible swap."
"Alright, you've seen the demonstration. Any questions?"
"Or, if anyone believes they have already mastered this basic skill, feel free to step forward and try."
She looked at the gathered students. Silence.
Satisfied, Ms. Nina nodded. "In that case, I declare the training content for our first lesson is..."
The "Beautiful" Torture
The students of Class 12 were on the verge of tears. Ms. Nina was definitely not as gentle as her appearance suggested. As they say, the prettier the woman, the more ruthless the heart.
Everyone had assumed the lesson would involve actual practice with their Pokémon, trying to recall them during mock battles.
Instead, Ms. Nina brought out a box of training Poké Balls and made everyone perform arm-lifting drills.
"Keep your posture correct! Control your strength! Above all, you must be fast!"
"There is no time for you to adjust. In the process of raising your arm, you must press the central button to enlarge the sphere, and the front of the Poké Ball must be perfectly aligned with your target!!"
The entire period was spent like this. By the time the bell rang, everyone's arms were dead tired.
"This is not the outdoor class I imagined..."
"When do we actually get to battle?"
"Not anytime soon. Didn't you hear Ms. Nina? This is just one of the basic skills. One!"
"This is just physical labor in disguise. By the time we learn everything, I'll have lost ten pounds."
Back in the classroom, students were busy massaging their aching shoulders. Owen was doing relatively well; thanks to his summer training regimen, he handled this level of repetition with ease.
However, before anyone could catch their breath, it was time for the morning run. Owen didn't go; he slipped away. It wasn't because he was afraid of the workout, but because he had other business to attend to.
He headed to Room 302 of the Integrated Building—the headquarters of the Psychology Club.
The One-Man Club
The room was empty. Owen checked a few neighboring offices but couldn't find the club's faculty advisor, Mr. Lee.
"Where is everyone..."
Eventually, a passing teacher told him that Mr. Lee was actually out on the track for the morning run. A perfect miss.
To wait for him, Owen sat down in Room 302 and started flipping through a newspaper. About fifteen minutes later, a thick-browed, middle-aged man walked in with a sports towel draped around his neck.
"Owen! Good kid... I've been hearing your name a lot lately."
As Fairview High's only Professional-level Breeder, Mr. Lee had been hired with a high salary. He was more of a consultant than a regular teacher.
Despite his status, he was incredibly down-to-earth and loved helping seniors resolve psychological issues between themselves and their Pokémon.
He was the definition of an approachable "cool uncle." If he weren't, he wouldn't be advising a tiny student club.
"Oh, it's nothing," Owen smiled modestly. "Just rumors, Mr. Lee."
"Anyway, I'm here about the Psychology Club. As you can see, I'm the only one left. When can we start recruiting new members?"
Mr. Lee shook his head helplessly. "I knew that's why you were here. But I'm going to be very busy soon. I'll actually be away from school for a long period starting mid-month. I won't have time to manage club affairs."
"Ah..." Owen froze. Does that mean the club is dead?
"Don't worry. The Psychology Club isn't like the Anime or Music clubs; I think it's too important to let it wither away," Mr. Lee said.
Owen agreed. As Ms. Hailey had mentioned, the pressure of senior year often led to students snapping under the dual weight of academics and training, sometimes even leading to conflicts with their own Pokémon. That's where the school's counselors—and the club—came in.
"How about this: you privately recruit two or three classmates you know and trust to help out. Once I'm back from my busy spell, I'll recruit some underclassmen and give you all a formal training session.
How does that sound?" Mr. Lee suggested. "Just look for people like the previous members: cheerful, helpful, and good with words!"
"No problem!" Owen nodded instantly. That was exactly what he wanted to hear.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He had successfully kept the club alive; it wouldn't end on his watch! But as for recruitment...
Who could he ask? The psychological reps from other classes? He didn't know them well.
Cheerful, helpful...
Owen clapped his hands. Lynnea from his class would be perfect. Coming from a family of police officers, she had a rock-solid moral compass.
Then he needed someone to handle the "PR" and social side—someone talkative and good at networking. Leo's smiling face immediately popped into Owen's mind.
Considering how the boy charmed girls and navigated social favors, he was the perfect fit. That little chubby guy was a natural-born socialite.
Wait a minute...
If he recruited them, all three members of the Psychology Club would also be participants in the Rising Star Project.
Was this going to be a Psychology Club... or a Battle Club?
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