Luke and Whitman waited outside for a long stretch.
"Coach, you said Metro City's Breeding House Pokémon are..." Luke started, uneasy. "Strong, specifically?"
"It's less about raw strength," Whitman said, thoughtful. "Research shows different Breeding Houses, even different regional climates, tend to shape distinct personality traits in the Pokémon raised there — often fairly consistent ones."
"Combine that with each facility's own breeding methods, and you get a genuine house style. Almost a brand identity."
Luke blinked. "So what's Metro City's signature trait, then?"
"Combat-hungry."
Whitman's tone turned genuinely proud. "Infernape. Swellow. Houndoom. Metro City's Breeding House has a serious reputation across the entire Orient region for it."
Luke: ?
He genuinely considered grabbing Whitman by the collar. Why didn't you lead with THAT information?I could've turned around thirty minutes ago instead of standing here like an idiot.
Right as Luke stared blankly at the sky, Granny Ellis emerged, leaning on her cane, smiling.
"Luke, we've got the go-ahead. Come pick your Pokémon."
The Old Principal had complete faith in Granny Ellis's judgment. If she'd taken a personal interest in this particular Trainer, gifting away one of the starters counted as a reasonable long-term investment.
Young Teacher Luke, blissfully unaware, still assumed he'd simply be walking away with a Slowpoke.
A genuine tragedy in the making.
Following Granny Ellis, Luke walked toward a second garden, the air thick with fruit — clearly home to a real concentration of rare trees. Sitrus berries. Raspberries. Cranberries. Luke named each one as they passed, then his eyes went wide. "Wait, they even have Dragon's Eye Fruit here?"
Looking at the sheer abundance around him, Luke saw nothing but glowing dollar signs.
Granny Ellis glanced at him, surprised, laughing. "Didn't expect this much knowledge of tree fruits out of you."
"I know a little, just a little," Luke said modestly.
Fellow fruit enthusiasts recognized each other instinctively. Luke's genuine expertise — courtesy of Pokéblock Craft Lv5 — only solidified Granny Ellis's growing confidence in him.
They reached a boulder where a Tepig had just headbutted the rock clean in half.
"This little piglet's got a temper," Granny Ellis said, pointing. "But it's the strongest of the litter — inherited real brute force from its Darmanitan parent."
Before she finished, Tepig smashed the rock again with a satisfied roar.
Luke's expression shifted. "Granny Ellis, I don't think this one's quite my style."
She nodded and pointed to a scarred Cyndaquil nearby instead. "This one, then. Strength's still developing, but the temperament's fierce — genuinely capable of intimidating on instinct."
"Evolves into Typhlosion eventually. Core piece for any real Sunny Day build."
Luke imagined that exact Cyndaquil accidentally torching his apartment and shook his head with a heavy sigh.
Granny Ellis frowned. "You're a little late, honestly — earlier and I'd have introduced you to a Chimchar we had."
Luke's face fell further. Fire-types apparently only come in "unstoppable powerhouse" flavor around here. If it shared that famous rival Trainer's exact temperament, there's no version of that where I get to be lazy.
"Granny Ellis, I don't think Fire suits me, honestly," Luke said, coughing.
Laid-back Teacher Luke and the Fire element clearly weren't compatible.
She nodded and led him further, deeper into the fruit grove. A Turtwig, eyes bloodshot, roared and slammed a Stomping Tantrum into the ground, waves of Earth Power rippling outward.
"Damn it!" a nearby Chespin swore, launching into the air, a burst of white light forming into a rapid-fire Pin Missile that peppered Turtwig relentlessly.
Luke's expression turned complicated. Why does every single Pokémon here share the exact same personality?This is supposed to be an enjoyable selection process.And why are they all top-tier bloodlines — is there not a single easygoing normal one in this whole facility?
Granny Ellis laughed heartily. "These little ones remind me so much of myself back in the day!"
Luke let out a long sigh. Ma'am. I did not expect you to have been such a firebrand in your youth.That fully explains the house style now.
You were the real mole all along, Granny Ellis.
He laughed awkwardly. "Ma'am, are there really only starter-tier Pokémon on offer? Nothing else?"
Granny Ellis smiled, smug. "This was a special favor I arranged with the Old Principal on your behalf."
"You've got the look of someone with real potential as a Trainer. Don't disappoint me." She gave his shoulder a firm pat.
Luke: ??? Wait, hold on. I asked for a Slowpoke. How did this turn into "pick one of the three starters"?
If I turn this down now, does that get me blacklisted from the whole university?
His expression strained. "Ma'am, do you happen to have anything... a little weaker?"
"Ah, you want to raise one up from scratch yourself!"
Granny Ellis lit up immediately. These particular starters ran powerful, sure, but they also carried a strong echo of her own personal breeding philosophy — a mismatch with the wrong Trainer's style could genuinely backfire down the line.
She nodded, increasingly impressed. This young man has a genuinely sharp eye.
Luke felt a small pang of disappointment finding no Bulbasaur among the Grass-themed offerings. Then again — Bulbasaur's toxic glands ran densely across its skin. Handled carelessly, that alone could land Luke in a hospital bed. Worse, he could easily picture Haunter draining the poor thing dry given half a chance.
Luke rubbed his temples, a headache building. Who knew picking a Pokémon would ever feel this stressful.A genuine stain on Teacher Luke's reputation, honestly.
"Let me think... there are some good options in the water section too, let's take a look," Granny Ellis said, leading him toward a stream, the sound of running water bringing a welcome bit of cool relief.
Luke scanned the area. A Froakie mid-training with a Bubble attack shot them a cold, appraising glance.
Honestly, Luke liked Froakie a lot on principle — bonding with one might unlock some kind of legendary partnership down the line. Except Luke wasn't exactly cut out to be the chosen protagonist type, and he knew it. Beyond that, Froakie's icy personality probably didn't mesh with his own anyway.
Luke sighed. "Ma'am, the Pokémon raised here really are exceptional."
"Quite the smooth talker," Granny Ellis said, smiling.
Then Luke's attention caught on a turtle shell resting on a rock in the stream. Brown, sturdy, radiating an almost absurd sense of safety — the kind of thing you could keep in a house and never worry about.
While every other Pokémon around trained relentlessly through the summer heat, this one slept soundly, utterly unbothered by the world.
Tucked safely in its shell. Content to stay quiet and irrelevant. Untouched by worldly ambition.
Who wakes first from this great dream? Only I truly know my own path.
Luke felt something click, eyes actually welling up slightly. Is this... the hidden dragon I've been searching for this whole time?
Hands trembling, he pulled up the system's Pokédex.
[Squirtle. Water-type. Ability: Torrent. Gender: ♂.
Moves: Tackle, Water Gun, Withdraw, Rapid Spin.]
Look at that harmless little moveset.Not a single inherited move to speak of. No risk of backstabbing. No risk of property damage.
This is the Pokémon I've been dreaming of.
Luke took a breath, pointed at the shell, and announced, "Ma'am, this is the one I want."
Granny Ellis blinked, following his gaze, hesitating for a beat. "You're certain? This Squirtle, specifically?"
"You could still pick any of the other three starters, think it over carefully—"
Luke grinned. "No need. This Squirtle, please."
Backstabbers are common. Genuine slackers are rare.A hidden dragon like this doesn't come around twice.
Granny Ellis looked back and forth between Luke and the shell, then finally gritted her teeth. "...Alright. This one it is."
At that exact moment, Squirtle's eyes snapped open inside its shell, Aura sweeping the surroundings on instinct. A glint of alarm flickered across its otherwise calm gaze.
I hid so carefully. How did they actually find me out?