Misdreavus, as a Pokémon whose base stats are even lower than Kricketune's, naturally doesn't boast much in the way of combat power.
Even with an Eviolite equipped, it's not exactly qualified to join any serious battle.
If you had to use it in a fight, evolving it into Mismagius would at least make a bit more sense.
Give it Levitate and a Tera Electric typing, and it would practically become Iono's prized "Big Sauce."
No weaknesses in typing, a not-so-bad 495 total base stat… you could call Mismagius a "mini Flutter Mane."
Especially in terms of stat distribution, Mismagius and Flutter Mane are eerily similar.
Still, when it comes to popularity, Misdreavus has always been in an awkward spot. It's cute, sure—but there's always another Ghost-type Pokémon sitting right on top of its head.
Yes, that's right—Gengar. The gap in popularity between the two is… well, let's just say it's not even close.
Not to mention Gengar can even Mega Evolve, gaining the elegant ability Shadow Tag.
Perhaps it was for these very reasons that Dr. Namba was so arrogantly confident.
In his eyes, there was simply no way the Pokémon before him could possibly be his opponent.
No chance! If that Misdreavus could actually beat his Electivire, he'd eat that Poké Ball right here and now!
But Haru merely flicked his wrist lazily and gave his first command:
"Flutter Mane, use Moonblast!"
Dr. Namba blinked in confusion at the command, then burst into laughter.
"Hah! You brat, do you even know how to battle?"
"Misdreavus is a pure Ghost-type! How the hell is it supposed to use Moonblast?"
"You don't even know what moves your own Pokémon can learn? Go home and drink some milk, kid."
"Oh wait—no, you can't go home. Because you're dying here today."
"An amateur like you dares stand against me?"
Although Haru had clearly called out "Flutter Mane," Namba, with his own preconceived assumptions, simply thought it was some kind of nickname he'd given to his "Misdreavus."
So, to him, Haru's order looked like nothing more than a clueless rookie's blunder.
Ever since joining Team Rocket, it had been ages since Namba had seen someone this purely naïve.
The last one had been some idiot who told his Charizard to use "Flamethrower!"—and he'd fried that poor fool so hard his own mother wouldn't recognize him afterward.
No matter. Since this kid had walked right into his hands, he'd be sure to "educate" him properly.
However… just as he began to gloat, Namba realized something strange.
Haru wasn't panicking. Not even flustered. He just stood there, calm and faintly smiling, as if the person being mocked wasn't him—but Namba himself.
"…Is that so?"
The perverted old man in the maid outfit froze for a moment—then noticed a massive orb of violet light speeding straight toward him.
For all his moral failings, Namba was still an expert on Pokémon—so he recognized the attack instantly.
Moonblast. That Misdreavus had actually used Moonblast!
And not a weak imitation, either—a fully formed, perfectly powered Moonblast!
Impossible! Absolutely impossible! A Pokémon's learnable moves are fixed.
That's a fundamental rule of biology—it can't be changed through training or effort.
Especially since Misdreavus is a pure Ghost-type, with zero connection to Fairy energy.
If every Pokémon could just learn every move, then what would make Mew so special?
What's next—Contrary Pokémon firing off Draco Meteors and Leaf Storms, or Prankster users learning Spore and Dark Void?
Or, heaven forbid, some poor soul finally giving their favorite Pokémon the Dragon Dance it's always dreamed of?
Pure chaos. Absolute anarchy.
But then Namba's mind shifted.
Originally, he'd just wanted to crush Haru and move on.
Now, though, he was eyeing that "Misdreavus" itself.
A Pokémon this extraordinary? Worth studying, worth capturing.
"Fine then," he said with a grin, raising his hand dramatically. "So it's got a fancy light show—let's see it stand up to this!"
"Electivire! Use Wild Charge! Smash that cocky little Misdreavus!"
Electivire, a physical Electric-type Pokémon, flexed its muscular arms as electricity crackled around it.
But honestly? Physical Electric-types are kind of a joke.
Special Electric Pokémon can use Thunderbolt—90 base power, clean and safe.
Or Thunder—a whopping 110 base power in rain.
Physical ones? They get Wild Charge, same 90 power… but it hurts itself in recoil.
Even Moonblast next door, with 95 power and a built-in Sp. Atk drop chance, would be laughing by now.
So yeah—if physical Electric-types ever want to rise up, they'll have to wait until Pikachu stops hogging Volt Tackle like it's a family heirloom.
That move's basically the Electric-type Flare Blitz—it'd be perfectly reasonable to share it around.
But the question was—would this reckless Wild Charge actually crush Haru and his "Misdreavus"?
The answer… was no.
Even a powered-up Electivire couldn't hope to stand against what it faced.
Because it wasn't fighting some ordinary Pokémon.
It was facing a god. A being second only to the gods themselves.
The seemingly simple Moonblast didn't just deflect Wild Charge—it shattered it, then carried its leftover power straight into Electivire's body.
Flutter Mane's might was terrifying beyond belief.
BOOM!!!
Even though the attack's energy had faded by the end, the explosion still didn't feel weakened in the slightest.
"GRAAAAHHH!!!"
Electivire screamed as it was blasted backward, slamming into the steel wall with a deafening crash.
As it slid down the metal surface, confusion filled its fading mind.
A Misdreavus? That strong?
Its Sp. Def wasn't that bad—so how…?
Could this guy be one of those monsters who beats Legendaries with a Swinub?
"…"
Electivire couldn't make sense of it—but the imprint it left in the wall wasn't moving.
And it wasn't the only one stunned by that power.
Even Dr. Namba and Lugia were frozen in disbelief.
Lugia—hardly a scholar, truth be told—just stared at the tiny Pokémon, feeling an overwhelming sense of awe.
It gave her the same vibe as the Legendary Birds she used to write about.
Each of those birds was a second-tier Legendary.
But hadn't that disgusting man said this "Misdreavus" was weak? How could it—
Wait. Masaka!
Her little antenna-like ahoge suddenly shot straight up as she remembered something Haru had said earlier when speaking with Mewtwo.
He'd mentioned that Mew could guide Mewtwo—and that Mew seemed to understand those mysterious manuals better than anyone.
But since Mewtwo and Mew didn't get along, Mewtwo refused to ask for her help.
Then… could it be that this "Misdreavus"'s incredible power came from Mew's guidance?
Hissss…
If that's true… maybe she could find a chance to learn from Mew too!
She couldn't understand those manuals herself, but if Mew tutored her, she could master them—and become invincible!
She understood now. Everything made sense!
Lugia's eyes lit up with renewed excitement—she'd found her path forward again.
Meanwhile, Dr. Namba was growing increasingly bewildered.
He just couldn't make sense of what he was seeing.
His Electivire wasn't some run-of-the-mill specimen. He'd trained it meticulously, enhanced it with amplifiers, fine-tuned every aspect of it. So how was it one-shotted like that?
Sure, it wasn't completely knocked out yet—but judging by its condition, there was no way it could continue.
No, something didn't add up.
There's no way a Misdreavus could be this strong. Either it wasn't really a Misdreavus… or that attack had already drained it completely, and it was just barely standing.
Well, whatever. The truth would come out soon enough.
He recalled Electivire and sent out several more Pokémon in quick succession.
But this time, Haru didn't bother with commands or theatrics—he simply gestured, letting Lugia, Mew, and the others crush them with ease.
Even restricted from using their strongest moves, Legendary Pokémon were still Legendary Pokémon.
The outcome was never in doubt.
Dr. Namba collapsed to his knees, trembling in disbelief.
What the hell was happening to this world?
He'd spent countless time and money—risked his life, even—to capture a single first-tier Legendary.
And now, before his research could even begin, a rogue Rocket operative had attacked him…
Only for him to barely escape, and immediately run into this guy.
A man who casually threw out Legendary and Mythical Pokémon like they were spare Poké Balls!
Since when had gods become so cheap?
But no matter his outrage or confusion, all Namba could do was lift his head and plead weakly:
"W-wait… we can make a deal, right?"
"I'm with Team Rocket! If you spare me, I can reward you later—handsomely!"
"Team Rocket has plenty of advanced tech! You could use it to capture all the rare Pokémon you want!"
But Haru was unmoved.
"Tell me," he said coolly, "where are you keeping the baby Lugia?"
"…"
Namba's expression twisted.
"H-how do you know about that?"
The facility itself had been built for the purpose of capturing and studying Lugia—but that information was top secret, known only to a few elite members of Team Rocket.
Even the other researchers in the lab had no idea where the baby Lugia was held.
So how could an outsider like Haru know?
Haru glanced at Lugia—who seemed lost in her own little fantasies again—and shook his head.
"That doesn't concern you. Just tell me where it is."
"Tell me, and you might live. Refuse…" He smirked faintly. "Well, there might be some… men out there who'd find a maid like you quite appealing."
Namba froze, his face draining of color.
"N-no! Don't—don't bring any men to me! I beg you!"
"Then hand over Lugia!"
"Y-yes, yes! I understand!"
The perverted old man wanted to curse him out—to tell Haru what he really thought of him, this Legendary-stealing bastard.
But… the water was cold, and his scalp still tingled. He didn't have the courage.
So after a moment's thought, he obediently shuffled forward to lead Haru and the others toward where he'd imprisoned the baby Lugia.
In the end, his secrecy had been the only thing keeping the hatchling safe.
If Sabrina's earlier raid on the lab had gone any deeper, she surely would've taken it already.
They hurried down the metallic corridor, turning into the far-right wing of the facility.
At the end stood a massive steel door glowing with red light—sealed tight.
"Lugia's in there?" Haru asked, pointing to the door.
"Yes—but not exactly," Namba said nervously. "It can't be opened from this side. You'll need to access it another way."
He gestured upward.
"There's a hidden switch near the ceiling. It'll open a small entryway from above."
He fiddled with the metal wall for a few seconds, and—miraculously—an opening appeared.
Haru gave him a look. "You first."
"I… understand."
Of course, Namba knew what this was about. Haru didn't trust him—he was sending him in as a guinea pig.
But faced with overwhelming strength, he had no choice but to comply.
So, taking a deep breath, Dr. Namba crawled into the dark opening—
…and the instant he did—
An accident—no, an unexpected event—occurred.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The deafening impact reverberated through the entire laboratory, shaking the metal structure to its very foundation. Then, with a final crash, a gaping hole was blasted open in the wall.
Through the smoke and dust, a slender feminine silhouette emerged from the wreckage.
"Sabrina."