Pokemon: The Spy and the Idol

Author Note: For those of you wondering question like if Kobayashi is reincarnated or transmigrated or no memories of earth? Or Whether does he possess a system? He is reincarnated and has all memories of Earth, he has a system, not the one you are thinking of. His life from birth had not been easy unlike other reincarnators who simply coast through life. His childhood is full of blood, war, deaths, traumas, PTSD. 

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A cool Monday dawn filtered through the high windows of PSIA's Kanto branch headquarters. Hiroshi Kobayashi walked down the marble corridor in a crisp navy suit, posture just a touch too stiff, an earnest half-smile on his face. To any onlooker, he appeared every bit the green Assistant Director – eager to please, slightly overwhelmed. At his side trotted Akemi the Kirlia, disguised with a harmless-looking faux collar. Her large red eyes blinked innocently at passing staff, but beneath that façade, she was emitting a subtle psychic pulse, scanning for malice or suspicion in the air. Hiroshi's heart thudded steadily – today began the real endgame of their covert operation. Five more days to quietly tighten control over this viper's nest of traitors.

In the morning briefing, Director Takeda and a handful of section chiefs gathered around a polished conference table. Sunlight gleamed off the brass nameplates: Takeda – Branch Director, Mori – Deputy Director, and so on. Hiroshi took his seat with a polite nod to each senior officer, careful to keep his expression slightly anxious, deferential. In truth, he knew exactly who in this room wanted him dead or discredited. Daisy, his Gardevoir, had plucked guilt and fear from Takeda's mind days ago. Mori's forced smile barely hid his contempt for the upstart "kid" AD. And across from Hiroshi sat Section Chief Hanamura – outwardly gruff and pleasant, but privately one of the moles leaking intel to foreign spies.

"Good weekend, Kobayashi-kun?" Takeda asked with a grandfatherly grin. The older man's fingers drummed once on the table – an impatient tic. His eyes, hooded and calculating, flicked over Hiroshi as if measuring him.

"Yes, sir. Quite restful," Hiroshi replied cheerily. He slid into the small talk persona effortlessly. "Still getting used to Tokyo again. I appreciate the Kanto team being so welcoming." He made a show of straightening a neatly organized binder in front of him. Beneath the table, Kirlia Akemi pressed against his leg, sensing the undercurrent of tension. Indeed, a half-second of silence greeted his remark – the traitors around the table exchanged brief glances. Welcoming? They likely wondered if this naive youth had any clue of the knives being sharpened behind his back.

Takeda cleared his throat. "We're glad to have you aboard," he lied smoothly. "Today should be fairly routine. Perhaps you could review the branch's ongoing investigations." He slid over a stack of files. Hiroshi knew this was a curated selection – likely innocuous cases or wild goose chases meant to keep him busy and away from the real action. He pretended to leaf through them with earnest concentration.

"As you acclimate," Deputy Director Mori added with a thin smile, "don't hesitate to ask if you need…guidance. We've been at this a long time." His tone was polite, but Hiroshi caught the condescension. Do you even know what you're doing? it said.

Hiroshi returned Mori's smile with genuine-seeming gratitude. "Thank you, Mori-san. I'll certainly rely on your experience." Inside, he felt only cold resolve. Let them think I'm harmless. Every minute they underestimated him bought the team more time to burrow deeper into their secrets. I am currently in a position of authority to "naively" provide assistance and resources my team needs. 

Under the table, Akemi's small hand gripped Hiroshi's ankle gently – her signal for detected hostility. She was sensing a spike of anxiety from one of the men present. Hiroshi followed her subtle gaze to Chief Hanamura. The man was sweating lightly despite the air conditioning. Hanamura's leg jiggled under the table; he forced it to stop. Something was on his mind.

"Actually…" Hanamura spoke up suddenly, his voice too loud. Takeda shot him a warning glance, but the balding section chief blustered on. "Assistant Director, one of my divisions could use your sign-off. It's a routine wiretap renewal – purely procedural." He slid a single-page form across to Hiroshi with a tight smile. "If you'd be so kind."

Hiroshi picked up the form, tilting his head innocently. Section 3-C: Organized Crime Surveillance Extension. He hid a flicker of satisfaction. This was one of his pre-planted traps. After hours, Madoka had doctored the form to include a cleverly coded reference number – authorizing continued taps on specific phone lines the traitors used, under the guise of Yakuza monitoring. If Hanamura wanted it signed, it meant he'd taken the bait, assuming the new AD wouldn't notice the nuance. In reality, by signing it, Hiroshi would be quietly legitimizing the team's expanded wiretaps through official channels.

"Of course, Hanamura-san." Hiroshi scribbled his signature. "Happy to help." He pushed the paper back with a trusting nod. Hanamura's relief was palpable; clearly, he believed their complacent pawn had just unwittingly extended a tap on some gangsters, not realizing it covered the traitors' own phones as well.

As the meeting wrapped up, Takeda clapped a hand on Hiroshi's shoulder. The touch felt heavy with unspoken threat or recruitment – Hiroshi couldn't yet tell. "Walk with me a moment," the Director insisted pleasantly. The other officers dispersed, leaving Hiroshi alone with the devil in charge.

Takeda led him down the corridor, making casual conversation about Tokyo's weather and asking how Hiroshi was settling in. Kirlia trailed behind demurely. They reached Takeda's spacious corner office, and he closed the door. The blinds were partly drawn, slicing sunlight into cautious stripes across the carpet. Hiroshi noted, in one corner, the faint glint of a hidden audio recorder – one of their bugs, planted by Alakazam last week under psychic cloaking. Good, this conversation would be on record.

Takeda poured two cups of tea from a porcelain set, his demeanor avuncular. "Kobayashi-kun, I wanted a word off the record. You're young – and catapulted into this role. That can't be easy." He offered a cup; Hiroshi accepted it with both hands like a respectful junior. "I remember my own early days in the agency… one can feel adrift." Takeda gave a rueful chuckle and sipped his tea. "Sometimes it helps to have a mentor, hmm? Someone to show you the ropes, help navigate the… sensitive matters."

Hiroshi blew on his tea, as if nervous. "I… I would appreciate any guidance, Director. I'm still finding my footing."