One week later.
On the eastern edge of what Akira Hayashi shamelessly called his "farm", it was really just a glorified patch of wilderness, with a narrow stream trickled along.
Its crystal-clear waters shimmered in the morning light, revealing schools of fish darting to and fro beneath the surface. If you looked closely, you might even catch flickers of red, it is the telltale sign of Magikarp.
"Again?! Come on, I'm not running an all-you-can-eat buffet! I'm begging you guys, leave some bait for the real fish!"
Akira's voice rang out, caught somewhere between outrage and heartbreak, as he stood clutching his fishing rod, locking eyes with a particularly dumb-looking Magikarp.
Neither the mocking tone of his PokéSystem interface nor the judgmental tail-flicks of his Serperior made the moment any more dignified.
Serperior's sharp, snake-like eyes glinted with disdain. Its coiled tail thwacked the ground like a judge slamming a gavel, while the System's on-screen font practically radiated smugness.
Everything around him seemed to scream: You brought a whole bucket of bait, swearing you wouldn't go home empty-handed—and yet here you are, feeding Magikarp like it's snack time at the local daycare.
The Magikarp dangled lazily from Akira's line, flapping its tail as if to say, You done? Throw me back already.
The truth? Akira wasn't bad at fishing. Back in his previous life, he often snuck off to rivers during holidays, not as a pro, but as someone who usually brought home at least something for the grill.
That morning, a sudden craving for grilled fish had hit him. So, without overthinking it, he whipped up a batch of bait, that was formulated to attract regular fish, not Pokémon and headed to the stream he'd recently discovered.
No Poké Puff ingredients. No curry spice. Not even a berry scent. To Pokémon, it probably smelled like Miltank feed.
What he hadn't accounted for were the freeloading Magikarp, they were stubborn, shameless, and somehow terrifyingly coordinated.
They not only gobbled his bait without hesitation, but also scared off all the real fish.
"Unbelievable," Akira muttered. "Are you guys really Magikarp, or mob bosses?"
Serperior sighed or did whatever passed for a sigh in a grass snake.
Despite her aloof expression, she finally deigned to intervene. With a subtle flick of her tail, she released a low wave of pressure , a gentle aura that rippled through the water. It was precise. Only the Magikarp loitering nearby were affected.
The regular fish didn't even flinch.
The smug Magikarp on Akira's hook twitched. Its beady, lifeless eyes filled with panic. With a startled bloop!, it spat out the bait and launched itself back into the stream at Mach 3, leaving behind only a few bubbles and Akira's stunned expression.
"Serperior, you magnificent queen! Thank you!" Akira beamed, tossing his rod aside and lunging in for a grateful hug.
He never made it.
With the reflexes of a ninja and all the sass of a theater diva, Serperior snapped two glowing green vines around Akira like ropes, tied him up midair, and suspended him from a low-hanging branch.
He dangled there, slowly spinning, like a very confused Magikarp himself.
"Serperior!" he cried, upside-down and betrayed.
"Serpaaa~!" she hissed. (Roughly translated: How many times must I tell you—address me as Her Majesty!)
Akira didn't speak Pokémon, but after years of cohabitation, he'd developed a sixth sense for Serperior's moods.
And right now? She was in full-blown Tsundere Overlord Mode. He knew what to do.
"Your coils are the finest silk of nature! Your glare could make even Tyranitar beg for forgiveness! Truly, you are the empress of elegance and destruction!"
Serperior's hood flared as her pride inflated. A few seconds of flattery later, she relented.
With a dramatic huff, she allowed Akira to hug her. And not the cold, scaly hug you'd expect, this one held surprising warmth and strength. Her body heat always caught him off guard.
As he snuggled into her coils, Akira smirked where she couldn't see. You may be a noble tsundere snake, but I've watched a thousand anime. You don't scare me, milady. Victory is mine.
Once the drama had settled, Akira glanced at the bait remnants clinging to the bucket. Just enough for one last try.
"This time," he muttered, filled with resolve, "we are not going home empty-handed."
Sure, he could ask Serperior to just nuke the water and scoop up the floaters, but that defeated the purpose. The thrill was in the tug, the wait, the moment of triumph. Rolling up his sleeves, Akira got serious.
"All my people~ All my people~"
His ringtone, wait why was that still his ringtone?, it blared from the depths of his floral shorts.
He froze like a Stantler in headlights. Shoulders sagging, he answered with the enthusiasm of a Gloom on laundry day.
"Yeah? What's up? Something wrong?"
A rugged middle-aged voice boomed from the other end.
"Hey hey, no problem at all, Mr. Hayashi! Everything's on track to start construction right on time. Just one little request from the crew."
"Request?" Akira blinked, surprised. The foreman managing the land clearing had always been low-maintenance.
"Well," the man said, "with all these missing kids lately and that sketchy trafficking ring still on the loose... the guys are worried about leaving their kids home during school break. They were hoping to bring them along to the site. Supervised, of course."
Akira raised an eyebrow. Before he could answer, the foreman hurried on, "Don't worry! They won't be running wild. We'll keep them close, safe, and I'll personally make sure it doesn't affect the work. Just this once?"
That was it? Akira almost laughed. The "farm" was still half-wasteland, covered in weeds, rocks, and likely a few Diglett tunnels. As far as he was concerned, the kids could throw a Ravelett concert as long as the work got done.
"No problem," he said warmly. "Just make sure no one wanders off. That's all I ask."
The foreman thanked him profusely, promising extra care, discounts, maybe even a thank-you lunch. Akira chuckled and ended the call.
"Man," he sighed. "Where were bosses like that back in my day?"
"Serpaaah~!" Serperior snapped a vine across his palm. Enough distractions. She was still waiting for her sunbathing session and daylight was burning.
"Alright, alright! One last cast," Akira said, rebaiting the hook with the last of his supply.
With a practiced flick, he sent the line arcing into the stream.
Of course, he had no more bait to chum the water with, thanks again, Magikarp Mafia.
Next time, if they showed up again, he was calling in Luxray. Let's see them laugh with 10,000 volts dancing across their fins.
Minutes ticked by.
Akira sat in silence, eyes bloodshot with focus, staring at the bobber like he could will it to dip.
But the water remained still. Whatever Serperior's aura had done, it scared off everything even the freeloaders. Even though serperior only wanted to scare of the pokemon, it didn't go as hoped.
Just as he was about to reel in and call it quits, the bobber twitched and then dipped sharply.
His brain kicked into overdrive. Every nerve sparked to life like a Pikachu charging a Thunderbolt.
He yanked the rod, grip tight, ready to wrestle whatever titan of the deep had dared accept his challenge.
Even Serperior glanced over, startled. She hadn't expected this either. Then she saw what was hooked. Her eyes narrowed. Pupils contracted. She hissed.
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Author's Note:
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
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