Chapter 8: Eevee’s Moment of Social Death

The next morning.

Ethan was eating breakfast with Eevee when he casually opened his P-Station homepage.

Though he knew that checking it daily wouldn't magically boost his video views, it had become a ritual—an irrational habit, like double-checking if you locked the door.

But when Ethan noticed a bright "[Trending]" tag under the video he uploaded yesterday, he froze mid-bite.

Trending?

Though the tag wasn't a badge of honor for most creators, for Ethan—whose videos rarely broke 200,000 views—it was a first.

His curiosity turned to shock when he glanced at the view count: 500,000.

In just a few hours?!

This was double his previous record! Growth like this typically happened to creators with millions of followers. Yet here he was, sitting at just over—wait, scratch that—90,000 followers now, thanks to this video.

Still, whether it was 80,000 or 90,000, it didn't explain the drastic spike in traffic.

Was it a shoutout?

A shoutout—when a big-name creator directed their audience to a smaller channel—was the most plausible explanation.

Opening the video titled "Pidgeotto Cuisine: A Dish So Good It Made Eevee Cry," Ethan braced himself for answers.

His P-Station username, [I'm Not Pidgeotto], had been a self-motivational jab when he first started. Over time, his fans jokingly crowned him "Master Pidgeotto" for his sporadic uploads and humble style.

The video's comment section held the key. As soon as Ethan scrolled down, the flood of messages revealed the culprit:

"Brock recommended this—here out of admiration!"

Ethan blinked.

Brock?!

Any Pokémon fan worth their salt knew Brock—the dependable Pewter City Gym Leader turned world-renowned breeder and chef. In Ethan's niche—the Pokémon culinary community—Brock was the authority. His cooking tutorials were legendary for being both detailed and accessible, catering to trainers and casual fans alike.

The top comment confirmed it:

"Great work, excellent food tutorial. Love from Kanto."

Ethan: "...Why does this sound like a machine translation?"

Below that, chaos reigned:

"Double fan joy! My favorite creator likes my other favorite creator!"

"Brock, when's your wife joining your videos?"

"When Groudon learns to fly, we'll see it happen!"

Ethan's heart swelled with gratitude. Brock's endorsement was the biggest break he'd ever gotten.

"Good Guy Brock strikes again," Ethan muttered, mentally adding another Good Guy card to the mountain Brock had already earned.

He kept watching the video, taking notes from the comments and feedback.

Meanwhile, Eevee, noticing Ethan's unusually good mood, perked up. Curious, she leapt onto his lap to see what had him smiling at his phone.

Her cheerful demeanor froze the instant she saw the video playing.

There, on the screen for tens of thousands to witness, was her—tears streaming down her fluffy cheeks as she tasted Ethan's cooking.

Eevee: What. Is. This?!

Though the comments flooded with praise for her cuteness, Eevee's heart sank. The ace of Gym, a World Championship victor, reduced to a meme?

Her dreams of being taken seriously as a Fairy-type pioneer shattered like a Light Screen hit with Brick Break.

"Veeee!"

Flopping dramatically onto Ethan's lap, she groaned in despair.

I'm Eevee—the first Fairy-type Eevee in history—and now over 100,000 people have seen me cry!

Her only comfort was that Ethan wasn't too famous yet. If his channel reached millions of subscribers, she might need to retire—or at least reinvent herself.

Ethan patted her head with a chuckle. "It's okay, Eevee. Everyone thinks you're adorable! Plus, if this hits 3 or 4 million views, we won't starve next month!"

Eevee's ears drooped.

Wasn't this fame train supposed to take off during college? How is it already here?

Despite her dramatics, Eevee sighed in resignation. This was a good thing for Ethan. If his career could take off earlier, it would give them more resources for their journey.

This time around, Ethan wouldn't just be a small-town Gym Leader.

Not even Arceus can stop us!

Ethan watched her over-the-top mood swings and shook his head.

"Women are mysterious," he muttered.

"And apparently, so are female Pokémon."

The video's comments continued rolling in, providing a mix of culinary admiration and Eevee fandom:

"Sorry, Snivy, I'll never go back. Eevee's too cute!"

"Master Pidgeotto, your Eevee seems unwell. I can treat her—just drop your address!"

"Forget the Pokémon—look at that glaze on the dish! I want to be cooked by you, Master Pidgeotto!"

Ethan smirked, closing the app.

"Alright, you win," he said to the screen. "Even I can't keep up with you guys."

(End of Chapter)