Pokémon: Raising Abandoned Pokémon into Legends

"What’s wrong—now that you’ve realized you’re not as widely noticed, are you doubting your self-worth? Feeling a little lost?"

Mewtwo looked at him and shook its head firmly: "No—you’ve misunderstood."

Rio raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. He suddenly found it quite amusing—Mewtwo, being a Pokémon with human genes, also displayed the micro-expressions typical of humans when they lie. For instance, when it said "no," its hands fidgeted, rubbing together with its thumbs. Even though it was communicating telepathically, its lips pursed. Its words also betrayed it—it said "No, you’ve misunderstood," omitting the word "me." A truthful response would have been "No, you’ve misunderstood me," or "No, that’s not what I think." The omission suggested that it didn’t want to admit it felt misunderstood, that it was avoiding the truth.

For example, if someone is late and asked why, and they simply say "Car broke," instead of "My car broke," there’s a high chance they’re lying.

"Really... I misunderstood you?" Rio crossed his arms, a faint smile on his lips, holding Mewtwo’s gaze.

Mewtwo’s face started to sweat. It didn’t know why, but it found Rio increasingly unsettling. Giovanni was a smooth talker who only lied and exploited it, using technology to suppress it. But Rio—while he didn’t use technology—could see right into its heart with just a word, and that gave it an overwhelming sense of pressure. It couldn’t be stubborn around him. Despite its immense power—greater than most Pokémon’s—it couldn’t project a strong presence in front of this man.

"Alright... maybe a little lost," Mewtwo admitted.

Rio raised an eyebrow again, still smiling. "Really... just a little?"

Mewtwo’s toes curled. More sweat appeared on its face.

Rio pressed: "If you can, I’d like you to be honest with yourself. There’s no shame in it—because only the weak are stubborn. Are you strong... or weak?"

"Fine... seeing you surrounded by all those people did make me feel lost. I always thought everyone’s eyes were on me," Mewtwo explained.

Rio nodded in satisfaction. That’s more like it. No need to lie to me—micro-expression psychology was one of my strongest subjects. To sum it up: my eyes are a lie detector.

But this also proved one thing—human nature is perverse. Mewtwo had suffered and felt inferior because of others’ attention, but when that attention shifted away, it felt uncomfortable and couldn’t handle it.

"I want to drink—can I drink?" Mewtwo asked.

"Yes—of course you can." Rio raised an eyebrow. He led Mewtwo out to the wilderness to drink. Drinking in town risked a drunken rampage. As a person of quality and high character, if he was going to lose it, he’d do it where no one could see.

An hour later, out in the wild, Rio watched Mewtwo, who was already tipsy. He asked a sudden question: "Mewtwo—do you still want to know the meaning of life?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I feel like I’ve already found it."

"What is it?"

"It’s to take things one step at a time. And my current meaning is to drink. Come on—let’s have a toast." Mewtwo raised its bottle.

Rio smiled and clinked his glass against it. Good—I can now say with certainty that Mewtwo is on its way to becoming a drinker. It’s already learned to use alcohol to escape pressure. While that’s not exactly healthy, it does make it feel more human—less consumed by self-doubt. And through drinking, I can bond with it. I’m sure that from now on, whenever Mewtwo wants a drink, I’ll be the first person it thinks of.

Three days later, in the Kanto League prison, Rio followed a guard to a cell that stood apart from the others. It was well-furnished—TV, game console, everything. It looked less like a prison and more like a cozy home.

"Giovanni—how have the last few days in prison been? I heard Ghost-type Elite Four Agatha prepared this room just for you. Impressive—the conditions are so good, I wouldn’t mind calling this place home myself," Rio said, standing outside the cell and looking at the middle-aged man sitting on the bed, lost in thought.

At the sound of Rio’s voice, Giovanni looked up and met his gaze. "Then why don’t you come in and stay?" he said coldly.

"No need—a gentleman doesn’t take what isn’t his. This is your home, and no matter how much I like it, I won’t take it from you," Rio said with a grin.

"Tch." Giovanni let out a cold laugh, too tired to banter. "You must be thrilled to have me locked up here. The old League executives must be looking at you with new respect."

"You see right through me. That’s exactly what happened—they’re agreeing to all my requests now," Rio said unapologetically.

Giovanni’s eyes widened—he hadn’t expected Rio to be so brazen.

"So, after I fell unconscious—what happened? Did Mewtwo get caught by you? Or by that masked man? Or did it escape on its own?" Giovanni pressed, his voice noticeably heavier on the last option—clearly, that was what he hoped for.

"I’m sorry to say—the outcome is the one you wanted least," Rio shrugged.

The one I wanted least? Giovanni’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. The outcome he didn’t want was clearly Mewtwo being captured. But by whom—Rio or that masked bastard?

After a few seconds, he came to his own conclusion.