Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Reiji crouched down and began analyzing the footprints. Judging by how clear they were, they’d been made just this morning.

In other words, the stranger had only recently crossed the stream.

If the prints had been left last night—or any earlier—they wouldn’t be this crisp. After all, it had rained heavily overnight. There was no way such defined edges would’ve survived the downpour.

Even the watermarks left by the stranger’s steps after he came ashore still lingered by the stream’s edge, fading gradually into the deeper woods.

Based on the footprint patterns, it was clear the stranger had walked away from this side. Which meant the other side of the stream was the direction he’d arrived from.

Reiji wasn’t planning to track the man. He didn’t care what the stranger’s goal was or why he’d come ashore. It wasn’t his business.

All he knew was that the man was an adult. Unknown identity, unknown intent, unknown Pokémon.

And that was enough. Reiji’s only goal was self-preservation—let Wingull evolve, then leave the island. Simple as that.

He didn’t want any part of whatever the stranger was up to. As long as he wasn’t discovered, he’d be safe. Better to stay quietly on the island’s fringe and wait this out until the man left.

”Butterfree, Wingull. Go check over there and follow the footprints to their end. I’ll wait in the treehouse. Whether you find it or not, be back before noon,” Reiji instructed, pointing first to the prints and then toward the forest across the stream.

He already had the direction. What he needed to know now was where the man had come ashore. Had he noticed Reiji’s presence? Speculation was just that—he needed confirmation.

After assigning the task to Butterfree and Wingull, Reiji withdrew from the stream, carefully retracing his steps to make sure no traces of himself remained. Satisfied, he returned to the treehouse.

There was no longer any doubt—a stranger had set foot on this supposedly uninhabited island. Reiji was no longer alone. And the man had come prepared.

The deep, sturdy imprint suggested hiking boots. Reasonable footwear for terrain like this—but knowing that the stranger had come prepared was key intel in itself.

Actually, there was a simple way to tell whether the man was a Pokémon Hunter or a Ranger.

Wait and watch.

Rangers didn’t interfere with the ecosystem of uninhabited islands.

Hunters, on the other hand, would snatch up Pokémon, especially young Totem Pokémon, throwing the balance into chaos.

All Reiji had to do was observe—if the forest fell into disorder, the man’s true identity would be revealed.

Wingull returned first, landing on Reiji’s outstretched arm.

”Wingull, did you find where the trail ends?” he asked, wasting no time.

”Caw,” Wingull gestured with a flap of its wing—first toward the beach, then back the way it had flown.

”The west? So he came ashore from the west—where the sun sets,” Reiji muttered, rubbing his chin.

He likely landed last night, but the storm had probably forced him to take shelter. Only this morning did he enter the forest.

If the man came from the west, it was likely from either Sunburst Island or Mandarin Island North. But most likely, it was Mandarin.

Sunburst, as Reiji had noted before, was home to nothing but a few glassblowing artisans—no Pokémon Center, no real population. A barren place.

Mandarin Island, though—it had a city. Where there’s a city, there’s people. Where there’s people, there’s demand. And demand means a market—for Pokémon poachers, it was the ideal place to offload stolen Pokémon.

Reiji still hadn’t confirmed it, but he couldn’t shake the thought: the man was a Pokémon Hunter. Every clue pointed in that direction. That idea kept looping in his head.

After all, Reiji had a Totem Pokémon’s offspring in his care. And if you had to choose, a Champion-tier Pidgeot was far more versatile than a Champion-tier Rhydon.

No contest. Flying trumped everything.

If it were up to him, he’d have chosen Pidgeot too—not just because it could fly, but because of its striking crest. He’d wanted one for ages.

In the end, though, practicality had won out.

He wasn’t the type to raise a low-potential Pidgeot just for looks. That was idealism. He was a pragmatist.

Wingull, on the other hand—could fly, carry people, manipulate weather, and help Poliwhirl train its ability. It was the perfect all-rounder.

Unless it was a Totem Pidgeot’s offspring, Reiji wouldn’t even consider catching one.

Still—no thanks. Even having a Totem Rhydon’s baby was risky business. Pidgeot’s? Even hotter.

Butterfree returned next, confirming the same result: the man had landed from the west.

With that confirmed, Reiji set the matter aside. The Pokémon returned to their morning training.

He wasn’t planning on starting a fire today. As for lunch...

He and Poliwhirl dragged over a smooth stone slab, placed it under the blazing sun, and laid out freshly cleaned crab meat along with dried Sharpedo.

The crabs would be sun-cooked. Half-done at best, but still edible.

Most of the Pokémon had grown used to cooked food after staying with him. Eating half-done crab wouldn’t be an issue.

The Sharpedo jerky was soaking in water under the sun to rehydrate. Once softened, Krabby could eat it just fine—almost like boiled fish.

Still, he couldn’t light a fire. Not with a stranger roaming the island. That might attract attention.

If the man found out someone else was here...

And if he was a Hunter? Then it was a Dark Forest scenario.

Dead men tell no tales—especially when the ”dead man” is a weakling barely worth squashing.

But as long as Reiji stayed hidden, he had the advantage—enemy in the light, himself in the shadows.

He’d already sent Spinarak to web up a 300-meter perimeter around the treehouse. If anything touched those threads, it would know instantly.

The web was Spinarak’s second nervous system—every vibration a signal. It could even distinguish between Pokémon and humans.

Reiji had tested it himself, walking across the web. Spinarak memorized the rhythm of human footsteps.

If it sensed someone similar approaching, it would hide immediately.

Reiji and the others, alerted in advance, would flee toward the Beedrill territory.

If the stranger pursued, they’d smash the Beedrill’s hive, redirecting its rage toward the intruder—and escape during the chaos.

Even if they couldn’t win, Reiji wasn’t the type to roll over and die. Corner a rabbit, and it bites. He’d challenge even Beedrill if pushed.

Training wrapped up, lunch was ready. Crab on a hot rock. Sun-heated Sharpedo strips.

The Pokémon ate their half-cooked portions; Reiji made sure his was fully done—diarrhea was not on the menu.

After lunch and a short nap, it was time for afternoon drills.

The stranger hadn’t interrupted their progress—but urgency hung heavier in the air.

The Pokémon didn’t understand what this stranger meant. But they could feel it—Reiji’s tension, the unease in the forest.

They guessed it had to do with those footprints. Another human.

Reiji had been with them nonstop. He’d gone nowhere. Combined with his warnings, they quickly pieced it together: he was afraid.

Of his own kind.

They didn’t know why. Didn’t need to.

Their job was to train, to follow orders, and to protect Reiji.

They could laugh, eat, train, and watch the sunset together because of him. He was their world. They wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Reiji stayed busy too, wrapping up valuables in an old rag.

Fishing rod, lighter, cigarettes, folding knife, four Poké Balls, the dragon scale, and dried Sharpedo. Essentials.

And of course, his eight Pokémon. Even Rhyhorn would come with him—not staying behind. If it wouldn’t return to its herd, he’d bring it.

He had no idea when the Rhydon group might notice Rhyhorn’s absence.

Whenever it happened, he’d deal with it then.

Preparations done, he sat under a tree by the beach, gazing at the sun-dappled waves.

Everything was packed. If he had to flee, he could do it in seconds.

Ideally, it wouldn’t come to that. If the stranger never found him, he could stick to his routine—train Wingull, wait for it to evolve, get used to flying, and leave.

He didn’t know how long the stranger would stay. But if he entered from the west, he’d likely leave the same way.

Leaning against the trunk, Reiji picked up a stick and began sketching the island in the sand.

He marked his position: southwest.

And the stranger’s: directly west, maybe northwest.

Which meant he had to avoid the west—and go east instead.

Toward Kinnow Island. Not Mandarin, not Sunburst. Too risky—easy to cross paths.

If they left the island around the same time, who knows what might happen mid-journey?

Best to steer clear entirely.

He kept his bundle nearby and began prepping dinner. Not quite dinnertime yet, but the Pokémon could eat while training.

No fire. Just the hot stone method again.

As long as there was sunlight, they could enjoy warm food. Without it—raw meat.

He placed fish on the scorching stone. Oil sizzled. He flipped it, searing both sides golden, added salt, and sprinkled crushed Charti Berry for a spicy, crisp finish.

This was how he used to eat when fishing back in his old life—though usually with a fire under the stone, not solar heat.

Once the meal was done, he called the Pokémon over, one by one. Spinarak remained on watch; Butterfree delivered its meal.

Thus passed a quiet day. The forest remained still. No events. Birds chirped, insects hummed. Peaceful, as always.

But Reiji knew better. This calm was a prelude.

The storm hadn’t arrived—but it was coming.

Whatever chaos erupted, it wouldn’t involve him. He was just a small-time trainer surviving on the edge of the wild.

He just wanted to live quietly with his Pokémon, without trouble or danger. That was all.

After dinner, the Pokémon stopped training and gathered around him in the shade, watching the sunset together.

Moments like this were running out.

They would be leaving the island soon. He hadn’t said it, but they knew.

That day was drawing closer.

As they watched the sun sink below the sea, Reiji took out the Beedrill honey and shared it with them all.

Whether they’d go back for more tomorrow... that would depend.

The stranger had already disrupted their once-simple life.

Tomorrow had become uncertain. And Reiji hated that.

To a laid-back fisherman like him, routine was everything. The intruder wasn’t a surprise—he was a threat.

Anxiety. Dread.

Classic symptoms of someone used to comfort. Once he settled in, he never wanted to move. He didn’t want to leave his comfort zone—or adapt to a new jungle.

Those who leave their comfort zones are either dreamers or desperate. Reiji was neither.

Maybe, given time, he could compete with the best.

But for now, his training was just a drop in the ocean.

Whoooosh—

Whishhhhhh—

Suddenly, a fierce gust tore through, shaking the tree above him.

”What the hell? A strong wind? And from the forest?” Reiji pressed against the trunk for shelter. But before he could turn—

A chaotic flock of Pidgey and Spearow burst from the forest, panicked, screeching.

”Pidgey! Pidgey-pi!”

”Frrrraah!”

Dozens of frightened Flying-types scattered toward them, their cries full of alarm.

”...So it’s begun.”

(End of Chapter)

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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