Rika sighed.

Being a Pokémon trainer isn’t about fun—it’s a business.

She knew that ever since her childhood. But others would never learn.

A pencil tapped against her lip—eyes focused on the exam in front of her. These weren’t just any tasks; the result would determine her future.

Yet, her gaze wandered around the room. She looked stressed, worried—albeit not about herself.

The theoretical part held less weight than the practical one, but it still remained crucial for obtaining a trainer’s license.

Failing here could mean the end of her journey, no matter how talented she was inside of battle.

Though anyone who wanted could pass. Emphasis on wanted. It only required discipline to learn and the will to succeed. A measurement which was super effective against an idiot like Mason.

This freaking Bidoof.

The brown-haired boy stared out the window, legs dangling above the ground as they weren’t long enough to reach it.

Rika rolled her eyes, knowing she couldn’t afford to keep wasting time. This was his problem. She forced her gaze on the exam, reading the next question.

“How many Pokémon is a B-rank trainer allowed to have?”

“Not more than 4,” she wrote.

A trainer’s rank depended on the amount of badges they got. Proofing your competence in other ways could also increase it. You'd get advantages such as bigger team sizes, certification for using more than 1 Pokémon at a time, money, and more.

The government introduced this concept after the war. Only those with a trainer licence could hold Pokémon, but even they had harsh rules.

So, no more children running around with murder weapons. Good.

“Of what rank is the Pokémon Tyranitar? Explain your answer.”

They really couldn’t choose a more generic example…

“3 stars, of course. Nobody below A-Rank may use it.”

Or it would end in a massacre.

The government even started controlling the evolution process of Pokémon. Trainers unauthorized for 2 or 3-star Pokémon couldn’t evolve them into such.

So far, so good.

The exam was even easier than Rika had expected. Her eyes darted to the clock, and she frowned.

He can’t be for real…

With twitching eyebrows, she watched Mason, who was looking at his exam. Or rather, he appeared to look at it. She observed the boy with his eyes closed and head threatening to tip forward. Drool escaped from his mouth, slowly running down his chin. It reminded Rika of a Gloom, foolish and filthy.

With an audible smack, she slapped her palm against her forehead.

Had she somehow hoped the sound of it would wake him up?

Well, the only one whose attention she’d drawn with that was the exam supervisor, who scrutinized her with sharp eyes. Rika directed her gaze down, though she glanced at Mason from the corner of her eye.

How did I end up friends with someone like him?

And wasn’t he the one to always proclaim to become the very best?!

The very best burger flipper, if anything.

Rika grumbled.

No way Mason would pass like this. Even from afar, she saw he’d barely answered any question. But what could she do about it? Scream at him and risk herself getting disqualified?

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I mean… maybe?

Was she really considering this right now?

Surely not!

Ain’t my problem this son of a Snorlax can’t get his shit together! I bet he spent the entire night playing video games or watching Pokémon League again…

“It’s called learning!” she heard him say in her mind.

What a pathetic excuse.

He would never achieve success with his childish attitude. This was a business. Which was why Rika couldn’t ask the teacher to give Mason a shake and snap him out of wonderland. Mason could consider himself lucky if their school didn’t kick him out for such disrespectful behavior.

Thinking about this situation, she grew more and more stressed. Plenty of questions still waited to be answered on her own exam. She shook her head to push away anything regarding Mason, and refocused.

“What’s a Pokémon-Link?”

The question reminded her of Bedhead, the Pokémon assigned to her at the start of this school year. However, the fact that they weren't even close to forming such a Link embarassed her.

A sinister laughter appeared in her mind, mocking at her incompetence.

It reminded here of the one thing she struggled at: Connecting with Pokémon.

She bit her lip—fist clenching and pressing nails into flesh.

Slamming her hand on the table, a thud echoing through the room, just quiet enough to avoid getting expelled—she decided to move on to the next segment, which dealt with items.

But what she saw next shrank her eyes into tiny, wrinkled slits.

“Which berry wakes up a sleeping Pokémon?”

This couldn’t be for real.

Trying to resist the urge to watch Mason, her eyes had already done it.

Another salve of saliva left the boy’s mouth and reached the already stained sheet. A nervous, ironic smile twitched on Rika’s face; a sign of losing sanity. Again she shook her head, dangling her short magenta hair around—as if that would help.

Nope, just ignore him!

She looked back at her exam and pressed her pen onto it.

Then glanced at Mason again.

This went back and forth so long until a big circle of ink soaked the paper beneth the pen’s tip.

This had to stop.

Rika had no time for this babysitting. It was always her who had to clean up Mason's mess. But who would care for her?!

Nobody.

Her parents would kill her, if, after paying all these years of trainer school, she ended up failing.

What about Mason’s mother, though? Won’t she be sad if he fails?

Sure, but if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even be sitting here anymore.

And yes, that was a counterargument. Because she had never wanted to become a trainer. It was all his idea; his dream; his fault. Stupid brat.

But didn’t we plan to go on our journey together? Didn’t you promise him, back then?

Yeah, yeah, sure… So I’m just doing all this trainer crap for Mason now or what?! Because of a stupid promise back when we were kids?

At this point, Rika was just arguing with against herself. Just like in war, there wouldn’t be a winner. And while that was depressing, it also meant her decision wouldn’t matter.

Suddenly, a firm voice spoke up, “Students, you’ve got 30 minutes left.”

As if her own thoughts weren’t enough stress already.

We’re both gonna end up failing if this keeps going…

She had to decide.

Mason… or herself.

But failure was no option.

She’d rather die than lose; and surrendering to the fact that she couldn’t save them both, also counted as such.

Her eyes went back to the exam, staring at the next question.

Waking up a sleeping Pokémon…

Something about this question was strange.

Berry…?

Then she realized.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Ironically, the solution to her problem was the same as for the exam's question.

Rika’s hand slid into her pocket, searching for a specific object. She grabbed the small, gyro-shaped thing, wincing at its edge boring into her finger tip. Its texture felt like a stone—sharp enough to take someone’s sight.

Mason was lucky she always carried some of those with her; his mother made her do. His daydreaming—or coma, as she preferred to call it—was a common problem. Usually, Rika shoved them down Mason’s throat, the effect keeping him awake.

This time, however...

Rika clutched the Chesto Berry, and glanced over at the exam supervisor. She felt incredibly watched, as if all eyes were on her, waiting to see her slip up. Sweat slicked her hands as if she had just choked a Grimer to death with them. Everything inside her screamed against taking this unnecessary risk.

You gotta stay out of trouble!

It sounded like her mother yelling at her. Like that one time, when she borrowed one of her father’s Pokéballs and pretended to be a trainer in their garden. Of course, her mother hadn’t allowed that; it wouldn’t just have been disobedient, it would’ve also been a crime.

That, and extremely dangerous; a child commanding high leveled Pokémon.

However, there was a downside to her mother’s overcaring nature, one that Rika only got to notice after her death.

She not only forbade the dangerous things, but anything that could remotely be considered fun. No playing in the dirt, no climbing trees, no beating up the annoying neighbor’s child that always called Rika a tsundere.

But even with her mother’s favorite words being no and don’t, there was a certain melancholy to the sound of these words, these memories. Memories, the war had not been able to take away from her. Yet, everything else it did.

Rika was, and would never be able to resist her mother’s restrictions and tell her how she felt—she’d missed that chance. But she wouldn’t miss this one.

When the supervisor looked away, Rika pulled back, her chest rising from a heavy inhale. She paused, muscles tensing, eyes taking in her surroundings. A malicious smile grew on her face, growing wider and deeper as she eyed her target.

Enjoy your meal, Mason!

Her arm shot forward as if throwing a baseball, sending the berry flying at incredible speed. The small object zoomed past the heads of multiple students, who looked around in confusion as if a Cutiefly had just darted past them, and flew directly at its unsuspecting victim.

With a loud, devistating smack, the Chesto Berry struck Mason’s head, and Rika hissed a triumphant cry of victory.

Critical hit!