Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

The reason they sought out these newly arrived trainers for fixed matches was simple: gamblers loved betting on unknowns, which made them easy to milk.

What the gamblers didn’t know was that, the moment a newcomer showed up, these people approached them. Those rookies usually fought a few matches and then left the City—no one stuck around long enough to raise suspicion.

People could guess as much, sure—but if no one admitted anything, then nothing ”existed.”

Mr. A had noticed that mysterious trainer who fought exactly three battles a day and kept his identity hidden. A perfect partner for throwing matches.

As Reiji and Skinny walked off, Mr. A peeled away down another street—he still needed to sound out other fresh faces and see who was open to ”working together.” He only handled negotiations; there were different specialists for the Pokémon Center arenas.

After they’d gone a good distance, Skinny, having watched the whole exchange, finally asked, curious, ”Reiji, are you really going to throw matches?”

Reiji didn’t answer directly. Instead he raised a related point: ”When we get back, ask your grandpa whether we can skim a little off the top—and whether that’ll bring heat.”

”You mean… bet on ourselves?” Skinny immediately thought of that when he heard ”make money.”

”Of course. If they want to control wins and losses, what’s wrong with me betting my own result?” Reiji’s grin turned sly. If someone was shoving money his way and he could help a few gamblers kick the habit, shouldn’t they be thanking him?

They, as the participants, couldn’t be the bookies—but Grandpa could. That old fox was crafty enough. Just running the board would be child’s play for him.

”Okay, I’ll ask him,” Skinny nodded. He also thought of his own savings—maybe Grandpa could help him earn a little pocket money, too.

They talked as they walked and soon reached the club to register. After noting one eligible Pokémon, Reiji received a competitor number—somewhere in the three-thousands: 3333, all the same digit. His listed rank-eligible Pokémon was Kingler.

The rules didn’t require you to use that one, though—any of your Pokémon could enter. A loophole. Anyone who could borrow a strong Pokémon could exploit it.

Judging from the ”no trainer limit, no Pokémon limit” setup, the club league clearly wasn’t trying to let outsiders walk off with the prizes. It was probably already spoken for.

And that number—3333—meant far more trainers had signed up than he expected. The qualifiers alone would take days.

Still, qualifiers moved quickly: roughly ten minutes per battle. Six clubs providing four fields each made twenty-four arenas. One arena could run six matches an hour—over a hundred per hour across all fields. In ten hours, you’d run past a thousand matches. That’s a thousand-plus eliminations per day.

No wonder the regional League required badges. If anyone could enter, you’d have tens of thousands of trainers and qualifiers would drag on for months. Terrifying.

Number in hand, Reiji left the club with Skinny. They split at the department store: Reiji was heading in to shop, Skinny to ask Grandpa about the fixing scheme. They agreed to meet again at the front doors.

Reiji’s goals were weighted gear for Poliwhirl’s training and honey for Butterfree.

Honey was on the second floor. He grabbed ten bottles as soon as he entered the food shop—same size as Moomoo Milk bottles, but three thousand apiece, much pricier than milk.

Thirty thousand total—enough to keep Butterfree sipping for a while.

Then he went up to the third floor—the items level—for Poliwhirl’s weights.

Inside the training equipment store, the selection was huge: barbells, dumbbells, treadmills, jump ropes…

But none of that was what he needed. He wanted wearables: weighted vest, wrist weights, ankle weights.

”Looking for gear for yourself, bro? If you want to build muscle, I recommend—”

”Not for me—for a Pokémon,” Reiji cut off the muscle-bound owner. He had zero desire to bulk up; that would only make hiding his identity harder.

”For which Pokémon?” The owner—whose Machoke promptly flexed beside him—perked up.

”Poliwhirl.” Reiji released Poliwhirl. Watching Machoke pose was impressive—solid definition. He wondered how its battle strength actually stacked up.

”For Poliwhirl, I’d recommend—”

”Hold it. I want a weighted vest and wrist and ankle sets. Let Poliwhirl try them on. If they fit, I’ll buy.” The owner seemed nice and very enthusiastic… and far too eager to show off his muscles.

”Mmm.” The owner squeezed Poliwhirl’s arms—tight, firm—clearly trained.

”I’d say go straight to fifty kilos per limb,” he said. ”These wrist bands are twenty-five kilos each, so both make fifty. The ankle set is another fifty. With the vest, you’re looking at two hundred kilos total…”

Reiji took a single twenty-five-kilo wrist band and clipped it onto Poliwhirl’s unbandaged arm. Poliwhirl swung its arm easily. Too light.

Poliwhirl could snap a tree with a punch. Fifty catties? Reiji himself could curl that—Poliwhirl wouldn’t even feel it.

”Got a fifty-kilo single band?” he asked, handing it back.

”Careful, kid. Two wrists and two ankles already make a hundred kilos, and the vest pushes it to two hundred. That’s plenty for early training,” the owner cautioned.

”I know. Swap them,” Reiji said. He wasn’t going to throw all five pieces on at once—he’d ramp up gradually. Ankles first, then wrists. Buying twenty-fives only to replace them later was wasteful—might as well start at fifties. Honestly, he wanted hundreds.

At a hundred kilos per piece, five pieces totaled five hundred kilos. At fifty, three hundred.

Five hundred would have to wait until Poliwhirl reached Elite-Four levels.

A thousand wasn’t outrageous for Pokémon. Even back in those old videos, trainers hoisted seventy-two-kilo Larvitar like nothing, caught sixteen-kilo Spearow one-armed, lifted fifty-five-kilo Pignite with both hands…

And in battles, Pokémon ripped slabs of rock out of the ground and hurled them—far heavier than a mere thousand.

”Alright, as you wish,” the owner relented. ”Here: fifty-kilo wrist pair, fifty-kilo ankle pair, and a hundred-kilo vest. That’s three hundred kilos total. One set, one hundred thousand.”

”Poliwhirl, pack it.” Reiji opened the feed bag he usually used for Rhyhorn’s minerals and had Poliwhirl load the weights.

Let Poliwhirl carry the iron bricks—especially that hundred-kilo vest.

Why didn’t he carry them himself?

Don’t ask. He couldn’t lift them.

He paid a hundred thousand, Poliwhirl slung the bag, and they headed for the main doors—where Skinny was already waiting.

”Reiji!”

”Talk while we walk,” Reiji said. This wasn’t the place to discuss fixing.

Once they turned onto a quieter street, he asked, ”What did your grandpa say?”

”He said as long as you don’t mind people coming after you, he’s in,” Skinny reported.

”Coming after me, huh…” Reiji thought for a moment. As long as they weren’t too strong, they’d only be coming to give him money. He pulled out a million and handed it to Skinny. ”Here’s your stake. Tell your grandpa to keep it subtle—don’t get noticed. Smaller profits are fine.”

Skinny tucked the million into his stash. Tomorrow he’d give Grandpa another million of his own to work with.

”I’ll use a signal,” Reiji added. ”If I tap the rail with one finger, I’m throwing that round—the odds will spike. If I tap with two, I’m taking it.”

”Got it.” It was Skinny’s first time doing something this thrilling; he couldn’t help feeling excited.

”Oh, and you should place your own small bet each time—ten or twenty thousand, no more than fifty. Always bet on me to win.”

”Why?” Skinny didn’t quite get it. If they were fixing losses too, wouldn’t he lose?

”Because you know me. Betting on me to win is for show. A few tens of thousands is nothing; don’t sweat it. The real money’s with your grandpa.”

”When he places, it won’t be tens of thousands. It could be hundreds of thousands—or more. Tell him to split wagers across different windows.”

Reiji wasn’t the least bit worried about that old fox. With luck, they’d even help some addicts sober up. The truth was simple: the house has the edge. Nine bets out of ten lose—don’t believe otherwise.

They were in a no-lose spot here, and Reiji trusted Grandpa’s bookmaking instincts. The old man might not even appear in person and still get the bets down cleanly.

Who knew how much they’d pull? The days of stumbling into three loaded suckers like the ”gold-spending trio” were gone.

Grandpa’s queue of challengers didn’t include anyone offering much money per match. Everyone had seen Poliwhirl’s fights; they weren’t idiots lining up to hand over money.

The million-coin pots were gone, but ten-thousand skims were still on the table.

And if anyone did ”come after” them? Gamblers rarely had real strength—most wouldn’t even beat Skinny. If they were strong, they wouldn’t be gamblers; experts don’t need the cash.

They hashed out a few more details on the way south, then stopped at the artisan’s courtyard to commission wrist guards for Kingler and for Skinny’s Poliwhirl.

Skinny had also brought over the items Grandpa prepared for him. Reiji glanced through them—solid gear. It’d do for now; they could upgrade later.

Deposits paid, they arranged to pick up tomorrow and headed home to cook dinner for the team.

By the time they got back it was fully dark, and they skipped the extra beach-forest session.

After a good scrub from Skinny, Rhyhorn conked out—no tree-rams tonight. Three battles had drained it.

Poliwhirl spent the evening learning Protect in the yard.

Kingler practiced Protect as well, also in the yard.

The rest had the night off. Only Spinarak stayed on perimeter duty, watching for strangers near the villa.

Skinny’s Poliwhirl worked on Waterfall technique with Reiji’s. Breloom trained accuracy. Wingull trained accuracy too. Elekid didn’t train, just romped around the yard with the others.

With everyone occupied, Reiji pulled out his little notebook to settle the accounts—he’d spent plenty today.

Taxis: 1,000. Custom wrist guards: 10,000. Honey: 30,000. Rhyhorn’s new-move lesson: 50,000. Five-piece weight set: 100,000. Stake for Skinny to hand Grandpa: 1,000,000.

Total outlay: 1,191,000.

Rhyhorn fought three matches today—two wins, one loss. He’d gotten a feel for its temperament and even came out ten thousand ahead.

Previous balance: 16,898,000.

After today’s net +100,000 and expenses, remaining: 15,807,000.

Closing the notebook, Reiji glanced at Skinny helping the Pokémon train, then started laying out bedding in the living room.

It was spacious enough. He spread several big pads—room for him and every Pokémon.

He set one out for Skinny, too.

After that he prepped a late-night snack. When training wrapped, everyone gathered and ate together.

Bellies full, they flopped onto the pads and dozed off. Reiji cuddled a soft, warm Slowpoke and drifted away.

Finally—a night to stretch out and sleep well.

(End of Chapter)

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

[Check out my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead]

[[email protected]/BellAshelia]

[Thanks for your support!]