Chapter Seven: A Myriad of Bizarre Cheating Methods

After returning the Leek Duck and the Charmander to their Poké Balls, Heath took Zorua and jumped off the dining car, heading toward the examination hall. The driving school was bustling with people today, giving Heath the nostalgic sensation of returning to his high school days, that moment after lunch break when everyone filed back to class, preparing for lessons.

“Zorua, you’ll need to go into your Poké Ball during the exam,” Heath said, looking at his companion. The driving school strictly forbade bringing out Pokémon during exams, since some trainers used them to cheat.

“Hmph, I’m not particularly willing, but since you’re begging so sincerely, I’ll reluctantly agree. But don’t get too smug—I’m only doing this as a favor,” Zorua replied with a haughty snort.

Heath smiled warmly at Zorua. After spending time together, he had come to understand Zorua’s personality quite well. Zorua’s willingness to enter the ball was a sign of trust.

Arriving at the examination hall, Heath handed over his admission card and stepped into a classroom full of trainers and Pokémon, though none of the psychic Pokémon like Alakazam were present.

The League had decreed that psychic Pokémon such as Alakazam and Kadabra required separate exam rooms, a measure to prevent cheating. In the past, after a traffic accident, the League discovered a driver whose knowledge of the subject was alarmingly poor, unable to answer even basic questions. This incident exposed a widespread cheating ring.

The method involved having a Kadabra or another psychic Pokémon take the exam simultaneously, using telepathy to transmit answers. Many licenses were revoked as a result. Since then, the League had done everything possible to prevent cheating, but attempts were still rampant.

“Why? My friend, I’m just here for the exam! I am the real Er Zhu!” A heavily made-up man was being dragged from the hall, his protests ignored. Heath watched with a blank expression.

At the entrance, a Slowpoke lay sprawled on the floor, gazing at the proctor with an oddly wise look, only to be promptly escorted out as well. Heath rubbed his face; he thought he’d seen an admission card on the Slowpoke’s head. Which genius thought to send a Slowpoke as a stand-in? Though Slowpoke is a psychic Pokémon, before evolving into Slowbro or Slowking, its capabilities are severely limited.

Heath recalled a comedic Pokémon manga he’d read. The protagonist, for various reasons, promised to reunite with his Pokémon after two years. On the day of their parting, he said his farewells, urging Gyarados to practice Aqua Tail and Ampharos to master Thunder. When he reached his Slowpoke, he hesitated, then gently patted its head.

“Slowpoke, you must do your best to survive—don’t get eaten!” That was Slowpoke’s standing in the Pokémon world; simply surviving each day was already a monumental feat.

When the exam began, Heath noticed the candidate beside him propping his chin and staring blankly at the computer screen, occasionally jotting down answers. He was soon hauled away—caught using Morse code to communicate and cheat with an accomplice.

Heath shook his head, resigned. The proctors here were seasoned veterans; there was no cheating method they hadn’t seen. Thinking Morse code would get past them was naïve.

Throughout Heath’s exam, people were regularly escorted out, leaving him perplexed. Was cheating really so rampant in the Pokémon world?

Nevertheless, Heath focused on his own test, carefully selecting answers. When he finished and submitted his paper, he noticed another young man leaving the hall as well.

Candidates could leave before the end or wait for their scores to be posted. The grading was rapid; Porygon handled marking and scoring, leading some to joke that the ultimate form of cheating was to fill the paper with cutting-edge cyber coding, hoping Porygon would award top marks.

Heath wasn’t in a hurry to leave. In thirteen minutes, the exam would end and scores would be available.

“Hm? You’re asking when is my exam? What’s the scope of the questions?” As Heath waited patiently, he overheard the other young man making a phone call.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. This exam has nothing to do with you anymore. Get some sleep,” the young man said cheerfully, ending the call. Heath released Zorua, cradling him in his arms.

Heath took out his phone and browsed recent anime, soon stumbling upon a manga that looked vaguely familiar, yet somehow off.

“Hmm... Kawayu, once an ordinary high school student, accidentally discovers the ninja village’s conflicts... But Kawayu looks suspiciously like Ichigo Kurosaki,” Heath muttered, reading the synopsis and cover before opening the manga for a glance.

“Poké Pirate King! I’ll be the one!” The first page showed a Gundam standing atop mountains, shouting passionately toward the sunrise.

Heath nearly laughed aloud, thankful he wasn’t drinking water, or he’d have spit it onto his phone.

Heath’s expression grew stranger as he finished the first chapter and summarized the plot.

“So, Ichigo Kurosaki, aspiring to be the Poké Pirate King, pilots a Gundam and joins the ninja village, embarking on an adventure of bonds and challenges? What sort of massive crossover monster is this!” Heath felt as though ten thousand alpacas were stampeding through his mind.

“Looks interesting,” Zorua said, perched atop Heath’s head, peering curiously. Heath gave him a skeptical look.

“So this is why two ninja villages settle their disputes by piloting Gundams, using psychic fields and lightsabers in battle?” Heath asked, incredulity written all over his face. The anime was even labeled as futuristic science fiction, making him want to complain all the more.

“Scores are out!” Just as Zorua was about to comment, the exam ended and a list was posted on the wall. Heath searched for his name; he’d passed with an average score. First place went to a Kadabra.

Heath recalled the Kadabra who’d once come to him for lessons on soy sauce rice. Its study methods were effective; perhaps this winner was the same one? Heath shook his head—passing was enough.