Chapter 12
Pocket Monsters & Public Decency (Optional)
Jake discovered the Pokémon rule during lunch.
He was halfway through processing the fact that his cafeteria served both protein bowls and suspiciously aesthetic bento boxes when a Poké Ball rolled across the floor and bumped into his shoe.
He picked it up automatically.
It opened.
A tiny electric spider popped out.
Joltik blinked at him.
"Jol!"
Jake blinked back.
"…That tracks."
From behind him—
Peter Parker jogged over nervously.
"Sorry! Sorry— he does that when he senses new energy."
The Joltik zipped up Peter's sleeve and disappeared.
A second Poké Ball on Peter's belt wobbled.
Jake stared.
"You have more."
Peter sighed.
"Yeah. Don't judge me."
The second ball opened slightly and a tiny green spider peeked out.
Spinarak.
Jake nodded slowly.
"…On brand."
Peter blinked.
"You're taking this surprisingly well."
Jake gestured vaguely around the cafeteria.
"Look around."
Half the student body had Pokémon out.
On shoulders.
On tables.
Floating.
Curled in laps.
It looked like controlled ecosystem management.
Not chaos.
Because here—
You didn't get one at ten.
You got one at eighteen.
After:
Compatibility assessment
Psychological screening
Financial capability check
Maintenance certification
Jake stared at a pamphlet taped to the cafeteria wall.
"A Pokémon Is A Partner, Not A Collectible."
He respected that.
Across the room—
Yang Xiao Long was crouched beside a small orange chick flexing tiny wings.
Torchic chirped enthusiastically.
Yang grinned.
"C'mon, champ. Ember."
The Torchic puffed a small controlled flame.
Not reckless.
Precise.
Blake sat beside her calmly.
Alolan Meowth lounged on the table with aristocratic indifference.
It eyed Jake like it was judging his credit score.
Yang caught him staring again.
She smirked.
"See something you like?"
Jake coughed.
"Your Torchic has excellent form."
Yang laughed loudly.
"That's not what your face said."
Blake's lips twitched faintly.
Jake stared at his tray intensely.
Focus.
Across the cafeteria—
Gwen Stacy sat with a small white Pokémon in her lap.
Ralts leaned gently against her.
Calm.
Empathic.
Nearby—
Mary Jane Watson was excitedly coaxing a struggling fish Pokémon in a bowl.
Feebas flopped dramatically.
Felicia leaned back in her chair lazily.
Purrloin curled smugly in her lap.
Across the far end—
Wednesday sat alone.
A misty, purple haze hovered above her tray.
Gastly.
But it shimmered differently.
Shiny.
Silver-tinged vapor.
Jake blinked.
"…That's rare."
Wednesday didn't look up.
"It chose me."
Gastly rotated slowly toward Jake.
Its grin widened slightly.
Jake felt mildly judged.
The Faculty Tier
Later that afternoon, Gym resumed with a new layer of revelation.
Glynda stepped onto the floor.
Five Poké Balls rested on her belt.
Polished.
Balanced.
Precise.
She released one with casual authority.
Gardevoir materialized in elegant light.
The gym quieted instantly.
Psychic energy shimmered.
Glynda adjusted her glasses.
"For those unaware," she said smoothly, "Pokémon battling is a national sport."
Scoreboards flickered to life along the wall.
Tournament statistics.
League standings.
Regional rankings.
"I am a former League Champion," she added calmly.
Jake blinked.
"…Of course you are."
Her Gardevoir's eyes glowed faintly.
Measured.
Disciplined.
This wasn't flashy chaos.
This was refinement.
Across the gym—
A bark echoed.
Kara stepped forward.
She held a Poké Ball.
Jake stared.
"…You don't."
She pressed the release button.
A familiar white blur burst forward.
Krypto landed proudly.
Jake froze.
"…He's classified as a Pokémon?"
"Yes."
"How."
"Legendary tier," she said simply.
Krypto barked happily and immediately ran a lap around the gym at impossible speed.
Students applauded.
Someone whispered, "Is that a regional variant?"
Jake rubbed his face.
"I need paperwork."
Cultural Notes (Important)
Here, Pokémon weren't accessories.
They were:
Financial commitments
Emotional bonds
Legal responsibilities
You couldn't have one of every type.
Food costs.
Training time.
Temperament conflicts.
It was realistic.
Which somehow made everything else more surreal.
Environmental… Physics
And yes.
This world still ran on heightened aesthetic physics.
Skirts obeyed wind dramatically.
Gym uniforms strained heroically.
Button integrity was… theoretical.
When wardrobe malfunctions occurred—
There was:
Mild interest
Some appreciative glances
A quick recovery
Back to business
No panic.
No scandal.
Just:
"Oh. That happened."
Followed by:
"Anyway."
Jake blinked the first time it happened in gym.
Yang adjusted a strap without breaking stance.
Blake didn't even react.
Glynda continued lecturing mid-sentence.
Jake looked around.
"…Is no one—"
"No," Wednesday said flatly from the bench.
"Oh."
He blinked again.
"…I need cultural adaptation time."
"Mew," came a soft psychic agreement from his bag.
The Realization
As the day wound down, Jake sat on the bleachers watching a friendly practice battle.
Torchic vs Joltik.
Controlled.
Technical.
Fun.
Yang glanced over her shoulder at him mid-match.
She grinned.
Blake's Meowth flicked its tail lazily.
Peter was sweating from trying to coordinate two bug-types at once.
Gwen smiled gently at Ralts.
Felicia smirked at something MJ said.
Wednesday's Gastly floated ominously.
Kara scratched Krypto behind the ears.
Glynda corrected posture with surgical precision.
Jake leaned back.
"…Okay."
Mew floated out and settled on his shoulder.
"This world is insane."
Mew purred.
"But it's consistent."
The psychic cat blinked approvingly.
Jake exhaled.
High school.
Superheroes.
Pokémon.
Genre mashups.
Casual physics violations.
And somehow—
It all functioned.
He stood slowly.
"Alright."
He adjusted his bag.
"If everyone else earned their partners at eighteen…"
Mew floated higher.
"…Then I guess I've got catching up to do."
Across the gym—
Yang winked again.
Jake looked away immediately.
He was still Confused.
But not overwhelmed.
Progress.
End of Chapter 12.