Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Day 17 on Kinnow Island. Clear skies.

The Club League opened today, but they weren’t in a rush. The ceremony started at nine, spread across six venues—one for each club. Skipping it wouldn’t change a thing.

After last night’s breathless escape, their nerves still hummed. Good thing they ran when they did; otherwise they’d be at the bottom of the bay.

They’d also earned new enemies—the tails they turned on during that black-on-black scuffle. If they went back to the black market, someone would recognize them—unless they silenced every witness.

That was impossible. They’d wandered for ages and got tailed across blocks; too many people had clocked the ”rich suckers.” No way to clean them all up.

Forget it. Handle it when it comes. One-on-one, they didn’t flinch. Outnumbered, they’d run.

He exhaled when he woke, thinking of the trouble they’d stirred. Set the mindset: eat, drink, move on.

They’d nearly died, but the haul wasn’t small—especially Croagunk. Raised right, that would be another core.

They’d crashed too fast last night to sort through things. This morning they had to put everything in order.

Reiji started by laying out breakfast. Three new little ones meant introductions before meals.

”Hold a sec—eyes up. Meet your new teammates,” he said. Over at the other table, Shun was doing the same for his side.

Shun introduced Mankey, Staryu, and Ditto.

Reiji introduced Staryu, Ditto, and Croagunk.

”This is Staryu. This is Ditto. This is Croagunk. From today, we’re teammates. Get along, okay?”

”Yoppo, yoppo.” Poliwhirl looked the trio over, curious.

A golden-brown five-point star—damp aura like its own Water typing.

A soft lilac blob.

And a deep-blue frog—another anuran like Poliwhirl.

”Mon, mon.” Ditto’s bead-black eyes roved over the lineup: Poliwhirl, Kingler, Rhyhorn, Butterfree, Pelipper, Slowpoke, Farfetch’d, Spinarak—and two silly things splashing in the pool.

It locked onto the limbful Poliwhirl first. A prismatic sheen rippled—and Ditto became Poliwhirl.

”Yoppo!” Poliwhirl jumped—Ditto’s copy matched it down to build and silhouette.

”Mon, mon.” Pleased with the reaction, Ditto dropped the form and switched—Pelipper now.

”Peli-Peli!” Pelipper squawked in delight. This new teammate was fun. Staryu was being ignored already.

”Fuiii—can you turn into me?” Butterfree fluttered close.

”Mon.” Another flash—Butterfree’s mirror hung in the air. Butterfree gaped.

”Koka-koka.” Kingler raised a claw: me next.

Ditto obliged—then cycled through Rhyhorn, Slowpoke, Farfetch’d… one by one for nearly everyone.

”Yito.” Spinarak hung from the ceiling and watched, not joining in.

It had been there last night when they’d shopped for Ditto—and those dozen Dittos in the habitat all choosing Spinarak’s form had unsettled it.

”Yadon.” Slowpoke didn’t play either; it stared, impressed but more drawn to Staryu—the faint brush of Confusion tickled its senses.

”Heyah.” Staryu flinched shyly when Slowpoke prodded it—its five arms tucked in.

”Go on, Staryu. They’re all good. You and Slowpoke both have Psychic moves—train with it,” Reiji said, nudging Staryu forward.

Gentle push given, Staryu let Slowpoke lead it off. Slowpoke’s heart was famously soft; with it as guide, the newcomer would settle in fast.

Ditto needed no help—already best friends with Poliwhirl, Rhyhorn, Butterfree, Kingler, Farfetch’d, and Magikarp. Social butterfly in a blob’s skin.

The real headache was Croagunk. Reiji had worried about contact poisoning the others, but forbidding contact would breed friction.

He needn’t have. Croagunk didn’t want contact at all—squatting by itself, head down, eyes closed, saying nothing.

As the senior, Poliwhirl started toward it to talk. Reiji raised a hand to stop him.

Until Croagunk’s acute toxicity was under control, no one should touch it. One accident would be bad.

”Yoppo?” Poliwhirl glanced up, worried for the new kid.

”It’s okay. I’ll handle it. You lead the others to breakfast,” Reiji said.

When Poliwhirl left, Reiji pulled on plastic gloves and gently tapped Croagunk.

Even the light touch tipped it over. Pain tightened its face.

Reiji remembered what the masked seller had said: self-poisoning from overwhelming toxicity. That’s what this was.

He grabbed an Antidote and poured the whole bottle into Croagunk’s mouth. The pain on its face eased by degrees.

Then he brought out Moomoo Milk and fed it spoon by spoon.

At the taste, Croagunk forced its eyes open, met Reiji’s gaze, and shut them again.

It had no strength—opening its eyes was work, crying out impossible. The venom had carved into a frail body.

After a little milk, Reiji returned it to a Heal Ball. Its condition wasn’t good—they needed a Pokémon Center soon.

It couldn’t go on like this. The toxins would shred its body, shorten its life, and even chip at its potential—unacceptable.

He’d already sketched the fixes.

First, regular purges—heavy detox sessions to lower baseline toxicity. Simple, but only a stopgap.

The core problem was controlling the violence of that poison while keeping the Poison talent. That mattered most.

He could abandon the talent—surgical removal of the poison sacs. No more poison—and no more Poison gifts.

He wasn’t ready to give up that talent. Throwing away Croagunk’s Poison toolkit would be a waste.

If they kept the talent, Croagunk had to work.

He’d stockpile top-grade Antidotes, keep clinics involved, and, before flare-ups, teach Croagunk to modulate its toxins.

Method two: neutralize—Antidotes on deck, applied on schedule.

Method three: body first—build the physique until it can carry the load.

Three-pronged: scheduled purges, Antidotes on hand, and conditioning. Run them together until Croagunk could command the poison within.

Staryu and Ditto were simpler. Staryu would grind Confusion and, most importantly, Gravity—longer field, wider radius.

Ditto’s Transform talent was outstanding—one blink and it had cycled the whole yard. Reiji only needed ”face work” from it. Easy.

The Croagunk plan, though, had to start today—after a stop at the Center.

With introductions done, it was time to eat. Across the table, Shun finished his, but his face was knotted. Something on his team had a problem too.

Reiji stripped the gloves and dropped them in boiling water to break down residue, then sat.

Shun sat beside him, looking for answers. His Mankey, lame-legged, was prickly and insecure. ”Reiji-nii, Mankey’s got a real mental block. What do I do?”

”That,” Reiji said, thinking, ”starts with how you look at him. He’s lost the will to live, not his worth. Don’t give him ’that look’—he’ll read it as contempt.”

”I know. I don’t look down on him,” Shun said quickly. With that potential, lame or not, he wouldn’t dare.

”Good. Next, rebuild his confidence. He’s lame? Fine. Have him beat a sound-limbed Mankey. The day he does that, he’ll believe again.”

”Rebuild confidence… got it.” Shun took notes—literally and mentally.

”One more thing,” Reiji added. ”That limp is a tell. If you use him in the open, they’ll connect you to last night’s black clothes.”

”I understand.” What sounded simple came with a leash: no public battles.

They’d killed a blocker, got tailed for blocks, and the market had seen the purchase of a lame Mankey. Show that limp, and the dots drew themselves.

So Shun made a quiet oath: Mankey wouldn’t fight in the open. It was bought under the black-ops identity; it would battle in the underground only.

”And stay away from the market and the docks,” Reiji said. ”They’ve marked us. Step into the market and they’ll clock us.”

Those ambushers weren’t special; one-on-one, not a problem.

What he worried about was Team Rocket. He used the tails as the boogeyman to keep Shun cautious. A pseudo-legendary went on the block tonight—Team Rocket would move. Better to steer clear—even as spectators.

”I know, Reiji-nii.” Last night had taught Shun exactly how fast he could run, and how much faster he wished he could.

”About Mankey, one more guidepost.” Reiji shared the thought he’d had at the market. ”When you raise him, hone Defiant will above all. No giving in. Fight to the last breath. Forge that, and Mankey will be your strongest partner.”

”Even if not the strongest on paper, he’ll be the one who never leaves your side—the one still standing in front of you when everyone else falls. Raise him that way.”

Mankey’s temperament reminded Reiji of Farfetch’d—that was why he’d kept Farfetch’d. But Farfetch’d’s potential capped too low without extraordinary boons—it couldn’t evolve. Without help, Elite was a stretch.

”I will, Reiji-nii.” Shun nodded hard. The seriousness in Reiji’s tone drove it home: this Mankey was different.

If he didn’t give up, he’d gain a mainstay. He trusted Reiji’s read.

(End of Chapter)

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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

[[email protected]/BellAshelia]

[Thanks for your support!]