After all, in the videos that Ditto was always with them.
Watching the receptionist craning her neck to peek around, Jason found it a little funny. He pulled a finely made card from his shapeshifting body and handed it over.
"Don't bother looking—I'm the Trainer."
The receptionist took the card on reflex.
It was a League-certified Trainer ID: photo, name, and registration number. In the photo slot, a smiling Ditto. In the name slot: "Jason (Ditto)."
Status: Pokémon Trainer.
She stared at the card, completely dumbfounded. She checked it over and over, making sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.
How could a Ditto register as a Trainer? Was the card legit? When did the League system get a loophole this big?
Seeing her worldview wobble, Jason could guess what she was thinking. He explained patiently, "If you don't believe it, call League HQ right now to verify. Chairwoman Geeta handled this for me personally. The identity is solid."
At the name "Chairwoman Geeta," the receptionist jolted back to reality. If Paldea's Top Champion herself processed it, that carried real weight.
A Pokémon becoming a Trainer was still mind-bending, but with the Top Champion's seal behind it, it wasn't something a front-desk attendant could question. Besides, this Ditto's exploits were legendary online. If he'd charmed both Iono and Cynthia, then one more miracle—"officially a Trainer"—wasn't so hard to accept.
Her manner flipped to respectful.
"My apologies, Mr. Jason…" She chose her words carefully. "Please follow me. The arena is ready."
She returned the card and led the way with polite, professional poise.
They passed through a hallway decorated like a cookie tunnel and entered the gym's battle venue. It looked less like a battleground and more like an outdoor tea party. The stands were full of Cortondo townsfolk, each with a dainty slice of cake and a cup of tea. They chatted leisurely as they nibbled, more weekend tea social than high-stakes gym match.
When Jason's team stepped out from the challenger's tunnel, every gaze swung their way. The central screen flashed the challenger's details:
[Challenger: Jason]
[Photo: ditto_headshot.JPG]
The chatter died at once. Forks froze mid-air. Every face turned to the screen, wearing the same stunned expression.
"What the—? The challenger is a Ditto?"
"Am I seeing things? Where's the Trainer?"
"Is this today's special attraction?"
The murmurs rolled—until the gym leader, Katy, made her entrance on the far side.
She was a woman with a sunny smile, also wearing a pastry apron. In her hands: a big tray piled with fresh-baked muffins, cleverly shaped like Nymble—adorable.
"Welcome!" Katy strode up to Jason and offered the tray. "Sugar before battle? My specialty."
Her warmth felt more neighborhood baker than gym leader. As she hosted, she gave Jason a curious once-over—clearly briefed that today's challenger was unusual. It was her first time seeing a legally registered Pokémon challenge her gym.
Her eyes slid past him to Miraidon and Iron Valiant. The smile paused. An invisible pressure bled off those two—none of them looked like a pushover.
She soon recovered, picked up a Nymble muffin, and quipped, smiling, "My little bugs look cute, but they hit hard. Don't get cocky."
Jason didn't reply. He reshaped part of his body into a hand, took a muffin, tasted it, and nodded. "Nice."
He swallowed and added, voice calm to the point of cool, "But for your bugs, I think Gast alone will be enough."
The absolute confidence surprised Katy. She followed his gaze to the Gengar that had been floating lazily the whole time.
That Gengar?
Her eyes sharpened. She set the tray aside and returned to her spot. "Since you're that confident—let's begin! Cortondo Gym Challenge, start!"
The referee's flag dropped.
"Go, my first Pokémon!" Katy drew a Poké Ball and tossed it. "Nymble!"
A flash of white—and a spry little Nymble landed, springing on its hind legs and rubbing its forewings to chirp a bright note.
On Jason's side, he just patted Gast. The Gengar snickered and drifted forward.
"Heh-heh-heh…"
Hovering midair, she swept the cream-sweet arena with a look of disdain—clearly finding it insufficiently spooky—then locked onto Nymble, curling a finger in a "come on" taunt. Total queen-bee energy.
Small gasps rippled through the crowd. Katy's eyes went razor-sharp. That aura—this was no ordinary Gengar.
"Don't be intimidated, Nymble! Fury Cutter!"
Nymble exploded forward, hind legs pistoning, a green afterimage streaking straight for Gast.
Gast didn't even bother to move. She hovered in place, a teasing smile on her face, as if the opponent weren't worth noticing. At the last instant, her body turned translucent—a purple haze. Nymble's blade-like forelegs sliced right through and hit nothing.
The whiff left a tiny freeze in Nymble's motion. That was the moment. Gast's shape solidified; she stuck out an absurdly long tongue with a mocking face—and a surge of unseen psychic force blasted from her into Nymble's mind.
Hex.
Stronger when the target is in a debilitated state—and after that miss, Nymble was still in a brief, startled daze.
Double power on a frail Nymble was fatal. It didn't even manage a scream; its body stiffened, eyes rolled up, and it toppled, out cold.
One-shot.
The cake-nibbling crowd froze mid-bite, staring slack-jawed at the Gengar who'd just won without breaking a sweat. For a few beats they forgot how to react.
The referee blinked himself back to life and raised his flag. "Nymble is unable to battle—Gengar wins!"
Katy's smile had vanished. She quickly recalled Nymble, face set. She finally realized she'd drastically underestimated her opponent. In Iono's past stream this Gengar hadn't stood out; she'd let that color her judgment. Big mistake.
At the challenger's end, Jason remained unruffled—as if he'd seen it coming all along.
The announcement rang clear. Katy's neighborly warmth was gone, replaced by a gym leader's focus. Her gaze stayed glued to the Gengar, who still floated like it was a game. In that instant she'd learned a lot: high speed, perfect timing, moves hitting far above a normal Gengar—and the most telling part, the casual, playful ease. That hadn't been anywhere close to full power.
She inhaled and warned herself not to underestimate anything again. She drew her second ball. "Out you come—Tarountula!"
White light flared, and a ball-like Pokémon wrapped in white silk appeared, standing on multiple tiny legs, instantly keyed up and wary of the Gengar.
"Spider Web!" Katy snapped.
She was changing tactics. If a frontal assault failed, control the field—smother the foe in sticky webs. Tarountula blitzed around the arena, spraying thick strands as it ran. Threads crisscrossed through the air, rapidly weaving a huge, dense web that blanketed the space around Gast.
Gast's face twisted even more than before. Of all things, she hated sticky gunk.
"Heh…"
She let out a displeased hum—clearly annoyed at the mess ruining a clean stage. She didn't bother to dodge. Her little claws came together; a purple-black mass of energy gathered in her palms, swelling visibly, pulsing with unsettling darkness.
"Shadow Ball."
She murmured the move and flicked the orb away like a toss. It screeched across the air—not at Tarountula, but at that eyesore of a web. On contact, it didn't stick—it detonated.
A blast of force shredded a massive swath of webbing in an instant, clearing a clean zone. And that was just the beginning. The explosion's shockwave rolled on, skimmed the freshly cleared air, and slammed square into Tarountula behind it. The spider was blown skyward, tumbled, and crashed hard.
It didn't go down right away. Thanks to Sturdy, it clung to a sliver of HP, struggling to rise for a counter.
Gast didn't intend to give it the chance. One heartbeat she was across the field; the next, her form blurred and re-solidified right in Tarountula's face—so fast most of the crowd couldn't track her.
"Hypnosis."
Concentric rings of odd light rippled through her eyes. Tarountula looked up—and froze, gaze going glassy. It swayed and pitched forward, fast asleep.
That should've ended it. But Gast wasn't satisfied. She grinned a prankster's grin at the sleeping spider, then faded transparent again, as if melting into the air.
In Tarountula's dream, the world was gray. It found itself mired in an endless, sticky bog; every step was a struggle. There was no sun in the sky—only a giant purple crescent with a toothy grin.
The ground began to quake. One… two… three…
Gengar the size of mountains rose from the swamp on all sides—each with a rictus grin and flaming pupils, staring straight at the tiny Tarountula.
"Heh-heh-heh-heh…"
The laughter came from everywhere, a tidal roar of sound battering Tarountula's fragile nerves. It felt terror like never before and bolted. The giants didn't rush; they drifted after it, like cats toying with a mouse—savoring its futile struggle.
~~~
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