"ROAAAARRRRR!!"
The roar shook the windows. The stadium lights flickered. Someone in the back screamed and ducked, spilling orange juice all over their Lapras plushie. Jake's Onix crashed onto the battlefield with the grace of a falling building, its giant rock body towering like a sentient boulder skyscraper. The sheer size of it blocked the sun. Somewhere, a Pidgey reconsidered its life choices and flew away.
The atmosphere turned heavy. Not metaphorically—physically heavy. The oppressive aura from Onix's presence smacked the air like a sledgehammer made of existential dread. Students shrank back in their seats. Several weaker Pokémon instinctively dove into their trainers' arms, whimpering.
David, standing on the opposite end of the battlefield, squinted through the dust clouds. His expression was that of someone who just realized they left their phone in the fridge again.
Then a blue text box popped into his mind's eye, listing Onix's stats like it was his Pokémon Tinder profile.
[Onix (Rock/Ground)]
Gender: Male
Level: 24 (Common Tier)
Ability: Sturdy – Because being crushed by a mountain once just isn't enough.
Nature: Introverted – Just wants to read books and flatten cities quietly.
Individual Values:
HP (17), Attack (10), Sp. Attack (21), Defense (28), Sp. Defense (17), Speed (23)
Moves: Smack Down, Rock Polish, Dragon Breath, Curse, Rock Slide
Item Held: None (unless self-esteem counts)
Potential: Gym Level
David raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'll admit, that's a beefy rock snake."
Even Pikachu on his shoulder gave a wary "Pika…" and instinctively tugged the brim of his baseball cap lower.
Jake, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with smug energy. His chest puffed out like he was auditioning for a superhero role. "Well, what do you think? Trained him myself!"
"Yeah," David muttered. "You and about four hired professionals and a suspiciously rich uncle."
Jake turned to the crowd like a Broadway actor during a final curtain call. "Let it be known! No Pokémon in Pacific City High can rival MY Onix!"
In the stands, murmurs of panic and awe spread faster than gossip in the cafeteria.
"Can David's Pikachu really beat that thing?"
"Electric attacks don't even work on it, right? Ground-type immunity."
"Should someone call animal control? That thing might eat a child."
One first-year looked like he was about to cry. His starter Pokémon—a Jigglypuff—was trying to crawl into his backpack and escape the trauma.
Tom, sitting up in the stands with a face that screamed 'I want to help but also I have a C-minus in Science,' leaned forward, practically yelling, "David! Don't do it! Use Ralts! Or throw a rock at Jake and run!"
"Tom," Luna said calmly beside him, eyes still locked on the field, "you are not helping."
"I'm emotionally helping," Tom said. "Also, Jake's cheating! That Onix clearly eats dumbbells for breakfast."
Jake stood tall on the field, arms wide like a rock-wielding prophet. "I spared no expense. Secret treasures. Energy crystals. Massages for its tail. This Onix is peak condition! And unlike some people here—" he glared at David, "—I didn't catch my team in a dumpster behind a Pokémart!"
David gave a tired sigh. "You done?"
"I'm just getting started!" Jake shouted. "I even taught it to roar dramatically on cue. And you know what else? I once saw Craig from Class 3B brush his teeth with mayonnaise. AND I'M NOT EVEN SORRY FOR TELLING PEOPLE."
There was a collective gasp from the audience.
David blinked. "What does that have to do with—?"
"Justice," Jake replied. "Also, I'm not done. Amber from homeroom talks to her plush toys in the hallway. I saw it. She gives them performance reviews. 'Good job, Snorlax, you didn't sleep too much today.' Like what?!"
"Dude, focus," David muttered.
"I AM focused! Focused on victory and exposing lies!"
Up in the crowd, Amber screamed, "YOU PROMISED NEVER TO TELL!"
Back on the battlefield, Pikachu jumped off David's shoulder, his cheeks sparking like an old toaster with a vengeance. He marched onto the stadium with all the seriousness of a tiny yellow accountant ready to audit Onix's soul.
"Alright, buddy," David whispered to Pikachu. "No pressure, but if we lose, Jake will never shut up. And I'll be socially obligated to eat lunch with Tom for the next three years."
"Pika!" Pikachu replied, sparks crackling in his cheeks.
Jake burst out laughing. "You're actually using Pikachu? Are you out of your mind? That's like bringing a rubber duck to a demolition derby!"
From the stands, Tom stood up and cupped his hands to shout: "DAVID! JUST RUN AWAY! CLAIM YOU FORGOT YOUR PANTS! IT WORKED FOR ME TWICE!"
David muttered, "Please stop talking."
Luna, eyes narrowing as she watched Pikachu and Onix stare each other down, tilted her head. "David isn't stupid. He wouldn't do this unless he had a plan."
"Yeah?" Tom said. "Well, I once thought I had a plan when I put my Magikarp in a microwave. Some plans are just… wrong."
Pikachu and Onix locked eyes. One was a 30-foot rock serpent of raw earthbound fury. The other was a foot-tall electric mouse in a hat. The atmosphere sizzled—literally—as Pikachu's cheek pouches flared with electricity.
Jake smirked. "Let's see how long your Pikachu lasts against a true rock-solid warrior!"
The referee raised his hand.
David lowered his cap.
Jake raised his ego.
And Pikachu raised hell.
****
With a dramatic blast of the referee's whistle, the battle officially began.
Jake—six feet of unearned confidence and two brain cells rubbing together for warmth—was the first to shout a command.
"Onix! Rock Slide!"
On the field, Jake's massive, snake-like Onix roared with enthusiasm. The ground began to quake like it owed Jake money. The stadium floor split open, and for a terrifying second, it looked like something biblical was about to happen.
Chunks of rock—ranging from baseball-sized pebbles to boulders that could crush a minivan—shot up from the cracks and rained down across the battlefield in a chaotic hailstorm.
Meanwhile, on the other side, David — looking about as impressed as someone watching paint dry — simply muttered, "Dodge."
Pikachu blinked up at him with the calm of a zen master sipping tea. The rodent didn't even flinch. As boulders the size of compact cars rained from the heavens, Pikachu skipped, ducked, and twirled like a ballet dancer on caffeine. It was less "survival under siege" and more "a casual stroll through a meteor shower."
Jake, completely oblivious to how ineffective his attack was, puffed out his chest and began his victory monologue way too early.
"David! Behold the gap in our strength! This is what separates real trainers—" he dramatically pointed to himself, "—from amateurs who pick street rats as their starter Pokémon!"
He paused, soaking in his imaginary applause.
"This is the END of your so-called 'trainer journey!'"
Three years of high school. Three years of being a walking joke, and now, Jake was finally having his moment. His laugh echoed through the stadium like a dying hyena with asthma.
David, deadpan as ever, stared at him like someone being forced to watch a toddler explain quantum physics.
[You received +10 negative emotion points from David…]
[You received +20 negative emotion points from David…]
[You received +30 negative emotion points from David…]
Jake was so deep in his self-congratulatory fantasy he didn't notice Pikachu had zapped a nearby rock into the shape of a middle finger. Nor did he realize David was already bored.
"Pikachu," David yawned, "play with Onix for a bit. Try not to break it."
Then — and here's where things escalated into full-on sitcom mode — David casually strolled across the battlefield. That's right. He didn't shout a command. He walked across the arena like he was heading over to borrow sugar from his neighbor.
Jake blinked. "Huh?"
WHAP!
A swift, perfectly delivered punch landed on Jake's skull. The sound echoed across the stadium with a crisp thwack that could have doubled as a slapstick sound effect. Jake froze. A thumb-sized bump rapidly inflated on his forehead like it was auditioning to be a second head.
His face twisted in confusion and betrayal.
"AAAAAAAAAAGH!" he shrieked, clutching his forehead and spinning in circles like a siren with no sense of direction.
[You received +100 negative emotion points from Jake…]
[You received +100 negative emotion points from Jake…]
[You received +100 negative emotion points from Jake…]
Up in the stands, the student audience erupted.
"Yo! Did David just beat the crap out of Jake… mid-battle?!"
"Bro just turned a Pokémon match into a boxing match. I'm crying!"
"Did Jake forget there's no barrier on our school stadium?! This ain't a video game — Trainers can walk into the arena!"
One kid nearly fell off the bleachers from laughing. Another pulled out his phone to record, whispering, "Please go viral, please go viral..."
Even the atmosphere in the stadium seemed to loosen up. Tension? Gone.
Meanwhile, Jake was still curled up like a shrimp, sobbing and clutching his forehead.
Behind them, the battle teacher—who had been half-asleep behind the bleachers with a fishing rod and a cup of instant noodles—suddenly snapped to attention.
"HUH?!" he exclaimed, mouth still full of noodles. "What in the fresh hell is going on out there?"
The teacher squinted at the field and nearly dropped his cup. He saw David standing over Jake like a disappointed older brother and blinked several times.
"DAVID! What are you doing?! This is a Pokémon battle!"
David didn't even turn around. He placed one hand gently over Jake's mouth to muffle the whimpering and used the other hand to flick his forehead again.
Pop.
Jake's second bump bloomed like a proud sibling to the first. His eyes rolled back for a second.
"Just giving Jake a little real-life training," David replied, his tone casual, like he was describing a summer camp activity. "If he's ever in a mystery zone and thinks Pokémon are the only danger out there, he's gonna have a bad time."
He turned and gave the teacher a smile as innocent as a nun at confession.
"As a trainer, you need to be aware of threats from all directions. Your Pokémon won't always be the one in danger. Sometimes you have to be prepared."
The teacher blinked again.
That... almost made sense?
There was something philosophical in it. A strange wisdom wrapped in utter nonsense. Like a fortune cookie that had been written by a drunk motivational speaker.
He nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah... yeah, I guess that's tru—WAIT A MINUTE. No it's not! This is not a karate class! This is a Pokémon battle, not street fighter!"
David shrugged. "Fair point," he said, and finally let Jake go.
Jake, by now, looked like he'd just lost a bar fight with a rubber mallet. He had matching red welts on his forehead, watery eyes, and the expression of someone seriously reconsidering their life choices.
David casually whistled his way back across the battlefield, hands in his pockets, while Jake sat in a daze, quietly vibrating with rage.
[Acquired negative emotion value +100 from Jake...]
[Acquired negative emotion value +100 from Jake...]
[Acquired negative emotion value +100 from Jake...]
Back in the stands, the students roared with laughter.
"He looks like a tomato that lost a fight with a stapler!"
"Did he just get owned in both the battle and real life?"
"I'm framing this moment. I'm printing screenshots. This is art."
As David resumed his spot and Pikachu did a little spin like a ballerina, Jake stood up slowly, rubbing his head. He glared at David with the seething intensity of a villain in a soap opera—but he said nothing. Not a word.
Because even Jake, in his caveman wisdom, understood one truth:
He may have brought an Onix to a Pokémon battle…
But David brought hands.
****
"I can't beat David, but I'll make his Pokémon regret it!"
Jake was red in the face and foaming at the mouth as he screamed like a bootleg WWE villain from the sidelines of the battlefield. His eyes bulged with rage as he jabbed a finger toward his hulking Onix.
"ONIX! Make that Pikachu WISH he was never born! Break him like he owes you rent!"
Meanwhile, David didn't even look back. He was too busy pretending to care less than a cat at a dog show. He adjusted his hoodie, yawned dramatically, and muttered under his breath, "Bro… what does breaking Pikachu have to do with me kneeling? That's not revenge, that's just animal cruelty."
Pikachu: I swear, if I live through this, we're having a long talk later.
"ROOOAAARRRR!!" Onix bellowed like a steam engine with emotional problems.
Jake's rage seemed to supercharge his Pokémon. The massive rock serpent thrashed its body with fresh fury. Forget skills or strategy—Onix went full Hulk Smash. It raised its colossal tail like it was about to swat a mosquito... a yellow, rodent-shaped mosquito in a trucker hat.
The crowd that had been buzzing with excitement fell into a hush so complete you could hear someone chewing gum in the fifth row.
Even Tom and Sarah in the audience leaned forward in concern.
Jake was out for blood. And Pikachu? Pikachu looked like he was one wrong move away from becoming a pancake.
The problem? Onix was basically a mountain with a face. Electricity? Useless. Pikachu's usual thunder zaps wouldn't even tickle this guy. The rock snake was too beefy, too defensive, and too... rock.
It looked like David was completely outmatched.
"Pi...ka..." Pikachu muttered, watching the enormous shadow of Onix's tail loom over him.
And then, with one slick move, Pikachu spun his hat backward.
Brim to the back. It was on.
That's right. He was done pretending to be your average, cheerful, weak-looking mascot. The gloves were off. The hat was backwards. The universe was about to be flipped like an omelette.
Let's dance, you gravel-brained noodle.
BOOOOMMM!
Onix's tail slammed into the battlefield like a wrecking ball with anger management issues. The ground exploded into a cloud of dust and debris. The shockwave rippled across the stadium, making students scream and jump out of their seats.
Several girls squealed and covered their eyes.
"I can't watch!" Sarah whimpered.
Tom squinted through the dust. "That poor mouse..."
The entire stadium was cloaked in smoke. Everyone braced for the worst. Somewhere, a janitor was already filling out a damage report.
But when the dust finally cleared... jaws hit the floor.
Pikachu wasn't flattened.
He wasn't squished.
He wasn't even scratched.
Instead, Pikachu stood in the middle of the crater... holding Onix's tail in one tiny paw like it was a baseball bat someone had offered him to borrow.
Dead silence.
Then Pikachu casually tossed Onix's tail upward.
And the impossible happened.
The entire mountain snake flipped—yes, FLIPPED—through the air like an amateur gymnast who missed a trampoline. Onix tumbled, hit the ground with a seismic crash, and left a crater so large it looked like the stadium had been invaded by meteorites.
Jake's face went from angry red to ghostly pale.
"W-Wait... what?! What the—?!"
[Pikachu used: Suplex Your Soul.]
[Negative Emotion Points +100 from Jake.]
[+100.]
[+100.]
Pikachu calmly dusted off his paws like he'd just filed his taxes early.
The crowd was stunned. The judge's whistle never even left his lips. He looked like he was rethinking every life decision that had led him to this moment.
Pikachu wasn't done.
He looked at Onix—still dazed, half-buried in the ground—and took a deep breath.
Then he struck a Bruce Lee pose.
Tom in the audience gasped. "Did... did that mouse just channel martial arts?"
Jake's jaw unhinged like a cartoon character. "THAT'S ILLEGAL!"
"Pikachu, use... nothing," David called out nonchalantly, waving his hand like he was ordering drive-thru.
He wasn't even going to bother giving commands anymore. Pikachu was on autopilot.
Time to introduce this overgrown rock worm to pain.
With a battle cry of "PIKA!!" the yellow menace lunged into a flying kick that slammed into Onix's jaw like a caffeine-powered battering ram.
The force of the kick pushed Onix across the dirt in a trail of smoke and disbelief. The audience gasped as the gigantic Pokémon scraped across the field like someone had just hit CTRL+Z on its pride.
Jake looked like he was watching his credit score plummet in real-time.
"Do something, Onix!" he shouted.
But Onix couldn't do anything. Every time it tried to rise, Pikachu was already there with the follow-up: Iron Tail, Brick Break, Jump Kick—an entire MMA moveset packed into a rodent the size of a lunchbox.
The announcer didn't even know what to say anymore. "Uh... Pikachu is now... performing a... roundhouse kick?"
Tom and Sarah just stared in stunned silence.
"Isn't this supposed to be a Pokémon battle?" Sarah finally whispered.
"This feels more like a crime scene," Tom replied.
Onix was now a geological mess. The once proud beast had gone from "giant threat" to "victim of martial arts experiment gone wrong."
Every attack from Pikachu sent a message.
Message: Stop underestimating rodents.
Jake was shaking. He grabbed the sides of his head.
"IS THIS A PIKACHU OR A PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER?!"
Meanwhile, Pikachu took a final dramatic stance on top of Onix's rocky head, posed like he was ready for a magazine cover.
He flexed his stubby arms. His hat flapped in the breeze.
David gave a small shrug. "Eh. He works out."
Jake's lips trembled. "I hate you."
The scoreboard dinged: Onix is unable to battle.
But really, it could've just flashed: Onix has PTSD now.
****
The entire auditorium stared in dead silence as Pikachu annihilated Onix like it was just another Tuesday.
The brains of everyone present seemed to crash all at once, as if the school Wi-Fi had gone down. It took a good few seconds before anyone remembered how to blink.
"…David's Pikachu is that strong?" someone finally muttered from the crowd, voice trembling. "Then… what chance do we have?"
That one sentence was like dropping a Wailord into a kiddie pool.
A wave of despair swept across the students. For most of them, Jake's Onix was the final boss. That thing had flattened opponents like pancakes. Just seeing it in action was usually enough to make people consider switching to Pokémon grooming or berry farming.
But now?
Now there was David's Pikachu.
Losing to Jake meant some light teasing, maybe a meme or two in the group chat. But losing to David meant getting absolutely shredded — on the field and on the school forums.
And let's not even talk about your poor Pokémon's feelings. Getting slammed around by a smug Pikachu wearing a tilted cap? Yeah, no therapy session was going to fix that.
David just sat there calmly in the battle seat, not even reacting, while everyone else shuddered. No one wanted to be next. They were already feeling emotionally abused just watching what happened.
Back on the field, Onix was lying there with swirly eyes, completely knocked out cold. It hadn't even been half a minute.
Pikachu didn't look rushed. He slowly dusted himself off, then adjusted his little hat with style — as if to say, I didn't even try that hard. He snorted with complete disdain and hopped onto David's shoulder, acting like this was just warm-up.
The combat instructor quickly snapped out of his shock and announced the result before anything else went sideways. "Ahem… red team's David wins!"
Then, without missing a beat, the teacher motioned for David to leave the stadium immediately — probably worried about what else that Pikachu might do if left unchecked.
Meanwhile, Jake was still on one knee, looking at his Onix with a look of pure defeat.
He wasn't just beaten. He was broken. His pride, crushed. His confidence, demolished. Even after feeding Onix those secret low-level treasures, there was just too much of a gap.
There was no getting around it.
David's Pikachu was on another level — and the rest of them were just collateral damage.