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>Wrestling is fake.
>Even the smallest child could see that a Pikachu like me had no means of knocking that Incineroar to the floor. If he had come at me for real, he would've crushed my frail little body in an instant.
>But a common misconception is that wrestling is not a competition; that being fake makes it easy. That is the real lie. In boxing, all you have to do is knock your opponent down to win. To score a win at the Olympics, you just have to be faster than anyone else. Wrestling is not that simple. You could be the mightiest Pokémon on the planet and at the end of the day still be lying pinned under my 6 kilogram frame.
>Why? Because in wrestling, you're not facing me. The audience is your opponent. The winner of the "fight" is the one who puts on enough of a show to bring the same butts onto the same seats every night.
>In that regard, I am a good wrestler. I am weak. Small. Cute. When you strike me, the audience boos. When I strike you, the audience cheers. I am your worst nightmare. You have to hold back your every blow to keep your well-toned muscles and excellent physique from destroying me completely. But I don't have to hold back one bit. I've never had to. The expression "a cornered rat" leaps to mind; if my ancestral heritage carried with it even one bit of hesitation, my species would not currently exist.
>Because Pikachu are weak. Our defense is inferior to that of a common Raticate. Our typing makes no difference; in real combat we get utterly annihilated. So even if I wanted to fight for real, my body would not let me. I would be holding back anyone dumb enough to pick me. And if I can't fight, what's the point of existing? That's all Pokémon are good for, right?
>So I wrestle. Not because I like wrestling. But because I must. I am Pikachu Libre.
