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>be a trainer, in Pokémon’s anime dimension
>spend an excruciating amount of effort curating your team and training them optimally to win your region’s championship
>make it to the semi-final round
>opponent is some annoying foreigner brat with the worst team you’ve ever seen
>half of his Pokémon are weak to the first one you usually send out, and easily countered by it
>one of them is seriously underleveled and only knows the most basic of moves
>seriously, it’s so fucking absurd you’re genuinely confused if the kid is an idiot or he’s baiting you into a trap
>turns out it’s the former, and so you effortlessly curbstomp through four of his Pokémon, level 5 unevolved shitmon included
>you start questioning how he got this far in the first place
>kid then mutters something to his Pokeball about “friendship” or whatever
>what pops out of the ball is something you’ve literally never seen before
>no really, the kid’s Pokémon looks so familiar to a common native Pokémon, but even your pokedex is confused and has no answer
>the weird Pokémon somehow OHKO’s your Pokémon with a move it’s 4x resistant to, and then wipes the floor with almost all of your pokemon
>the kid’s strange pokemon then gets defeated by your own Pokémon that shouldn’t win against it, but it just did anyway
>kid sends out his final Pokémon, which is the Pikachu that’s been perching on his shoulder the entire time, and tells him to use Thunderbolt
>you begin to shout: “are you fucking stupid? my Pokémon is a ground type! It’s completely immune to-“
>the move not only lands, it utterly destroys your pokemon
>you lost to a foreign kid with no knowledge about Pokémon basics and won by sheer disregard to common sense and logic established by millennia of scientific research and competitive pokemon battling
The next day, as your packing your bags in your hotel room and preparing to go home, you see on the news that the foreign kid lost to a toddler whose only pokemon was a Wurmple.