Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Every vendor in the marketplace had at least one Pokémon standing by for deterrence — a clear signal of their battle capability. Anyone with ideas about snatching something would have to seriously consider whether they could win that fight.

It was just like playing landlord — once the landlord revealed their trump card, the peasants could only call for backup.

There were also two Poison-type material items on display, going for only 200,000 to 300,000 Pokédollars. Dirt cheap.

Though classified as Poison-type materials, they weren’t useful on their own. The quantities were too small to even make a single rookie-grade held item — they’d have to be handled separately.

There were also two breeding manuals with severe side effects. Those had long flooded the market and were worth practically nothing.

If you actually followed the methods inside, losing a Pokémon would be the least of your worries — your life might be forfeit too.

Besides those dangerous manuals, Reiji also spotted several other breeding books on the stalls.

One described feeding Poison-type Pokémon the toxin sacs of other Poison-types to strengthen their own toxicity. The downside? If the body couldn’t handle it, the Pokémon would suffer toxic shock and die on the spot.

Another manual, for Bug-types, suggested raising them through Gu-style techniques — let a swarm of bugs fight to the death, pushing their limits at the edge of survival. After several rounds of culling, you’d obtain a Bug King.

Once that Bug King laid its final egg and died, its remaining Bug-type energy would be condensed into a single, extremely high-potential Bug-type offspring.

Some trainers had already used such methods to build full teams of Elite-level Poison- and Bug-types.

But those Pokémon often had drastically shortened lifespans — especially the Poison-types. The toxin sac rituals left hidden injuries behind.

One day, they might just collapse mid-battle due to those internal wounds.

Sure, the breeding methods came with major risks — but the allure was just as great. They offered a shortcut to the Elite Four tier.

Unfortunately, they were illegal. The League cracked down hard. Any breeding base caught using such techniques would be raided and destroyed without hesitation.

After circling the entire marketplace, Reiji didn’t find a single clean, side-effect-free breeding manual. Even the ones with no risks had incredibly slow results, no better than the beginner handbooks sold at department stores. He gave up looking.

After all, truly valuable knowledge was also the most expensive. Everyone here knew what was worth something — just like the inflated prices on Electric-types. Nobody here was easy to fool.

He also noticed something else — there were hardly any Pokémon eggs for sale. Or rather, there were no basic whiteboard-tier eggs like the kind sold at official breeding houses.

The few eggs that were available all had something special — rare species, inherited moves, good abilities, or notable parentage. When the vendors here said ”potential,” they didn’t mean stats he could see — they meant the battle power of the parents.

Value was judged across the board: trainability, health, adaptability, temperament…

A blank-slate, trash-tier Pokémon egg wouldn’t fool anyone here. Everyone in the black market knew the game — no one was shelling out a million or two for garbage.

If someone wanted those, the masked traders here could just go catch their own in the wild.

Only the official breeding houses attached to department stores still tried to sell that kind of junk to clueless civilians.

Reiji found this refreshingly rational. If any random baby Pokémon could fetch a million or two, everyone would be rich by now.

After surveying the market, he’d also scoped out the best place to offload his own Electric-types: the Electric-type breeder shop in the underground black market. They’d definitely be interested.

Now that his target was clear, he double-checked himself for any identifying items. Once satisfied he had no way of being traced, he entered the breeder shop.

As for the two black backpacks he still had?

Come on. Every black-market regular had at least eight to ten identical black shoulder bags.

Black backpacks were everywhere. Reiji just happened to be carrying one more than most.

No one was going to identify him as a fake Elite-tier trainer based on two black backpacks.

I mean, really — what were they going to do, analyze the stitching?

…

”Welcome, sir. How can I help you today?”

”Get your manager,” Reiji said flatly. He had no interest in chatting with the salesgirl. This was a deal worth tens of millions — only the manager could handle it.

”Sir, our manager is currently—”

”Don’t waste my time. If you don’t get him, I’ll take my business elsewhere. When your manager finds out he missed out on a multimillion-Pokédollar deal, he’ll probably sell you to make up the loss.”

Reiji wasn’t about to play polite. That whole ”manager not here” excuse was standard stall-talk for troublesome customers.

If sweet words didn’t work, then intimidation would. He wasn’t pretending to be some good guy — he never had qualms about using pressure.

The line about getting sold off actually stunned the pretty staffer in her black tights and uniform. She’d never met a customer so blunt and savage.

Panicking, she rushed off to call the manager.

She’d considered alerting security, but what if this was a big deal? If she made the manager miss a fat payday, it was entirely possible she’d get ”sold” for real.

This job was way too stressful. After today, she was quitting — no salary was worth this level of anxiety.

”Manager Jin, this is the guy who said he had a big deal,” she said, pointing nervously at Reiji. Hopefully that would take some of the heat off her if things went sideways.

The man following her was a short, pudgy fellow with a pencil mustache. He had a squat face and greasy skin, but his business sense had earned him a management role in the underground shop.

Manager Jin looked Reiji up and down — black hood, two backpacks — nothing too unusual. He asked casually, ”May I ask how big this deal is, sir?”

”Ten million,” Reiji said simply.

The manager’s face lit up like fireworks. ”Haha, my apologies for the misunderstanding!” he chuckled, quickly bowing. ”Please, right this way — let’s discuss this somewhere more private.”

He waved the staff girl away, then gestured for Reiji to follow him into a side room. ”Shall we talk somewhere quieter?”

”Fine,” Reiji nodded and followed. He had no complaints about the man’s hospitality.

Except maybe his face. That creepy grin made him look even more ridiculous. His fat cheeks scrunched together when he smiled, and the giant golden tooth didn’t help. Reiji had to resist the urge to punch it out.

Once Reiji was inside, the manager stuck his head out and called, ”Bring some tea to Room One!”

”Right away, Manager Jin!” the girl replied, hurrying off.

Manager Jin entered the room again with a forced smile and motioned for Reiji to take a seat.

Just as they sat down, the girl returned with two cups of steaming green tea, placed Reiji’s in front of him, and quietly shut the soundproof door behind her.

Only then did the manager speak. ”May I ask your name, sir?”

”Doesn’t matter,” Reiji replied curtly. But he did have one request. ”I prefer serious settings. Stop smiling.”

”Of course, sir.” The manager immediately dropped his grin. Customer satisfaction was rule number one, especially for someone like this — clearly not the chatty type.

Reading the room, Manager Jin cut straight to the point. ”So, this ten million-Pokédollar deal — what kind of business are we talking about?”

”A near-Elite Electabuzz. Is that enough?” Reiji said, taking out the Poké Ball.

The Electabuzz inside was too weak to even curse anymore. It just lay there motionless.

”…Near-Elite?” The manager froze.

He stared at the Poké Ball in Reiji’s hand, then gave Reiji another once-over.

In that instant, he realized something: this man might very well be an Elite-tier trainer.

An Elite-tier trainer…

Manager Jin nervously licked his dry lips and tugged at his collar. He was sweating.

No way he could afford to offend someone like that.

”Sir, may I verify the Electabuzz’s strength?” he asked, standing up respectfully.

”Go ahead,” Reiji replied. He wasn’t unreasonable — no one was going to pay that kind of money based on someone’s word alone.

The manager retrieved a rectangular device from the drawer. On one end was a circular depression where the Poké Ball fit snugly.

As Reiji glanced at it, the manager explained, ”This is a miniature version of the Pokémon Center’s diagnostic machine. It checks strength, physical condition, developmental health… and especially elemental energy levels.”

”By measuring the Electric energy in the Pokémon’s body, we can estimate its combat ability.”

He hesitated a little, realizing Reiji probably knew all this already.

Truth was, Reiji didn’t.

”I’m sorry, sir,” the manager said after checking. ”Based on this device’s readings, your Electabuzz does not have Elite-level energy levels.”

He gently placed the ball back in front of Reiji, already calculating how to lowball the price.

That said, this Electabuzz still clocked in at top-tier veteran strength — stronger than the one that came in earlier this evening.

And it was male — a very valuable stud for breeding purposes. It could likely produce many quality Electabuzz babies.

It was just a bit weak and injured — mostly superficial wounds, nothing serious.

Knock knock knock.

Reiji didn’t know exactly what the manager was plotting, but it was definitely no good. So he knocked on the table, snapping the man out of his scheming.

Once the golden-toothed manager looked his way, Reiji asked:

”Do you know why it didn’t register as Elite-tier?”

(End of Chapter)

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