Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

”Did you pin down his address? His movements?” Reiji picked up the courier’s photo and stared at the unmasked face until it fixed in his mind.

The man had backstabbed him and held the fixed-match leverage. There was no version where Reiji let him keep breathing.

If the guy had kept it business and parted on good terms, fine. But using the fixed match to squeeze him—there were consequences for that.

”Here.” Shun’s Grandpa took a city map from his coat. A red line ran from the Pokémon Center in the east to the southeastern docks and stopped at an apartment block.

”That place is a casino. Not his home. He spends the most time there—casino to the book, back and forth. He practically lives on the floor.”

”If you’re going to hit him, draw him out or set up on his route. Don’t move inside the casino. It’s packed with enforcers like him, plus several of his own men.”

”Thanks for the intel.” Reiji folded the map away. He wasn’t moving tonight anyway. The black market was auctioning a pseudo-legendary Dratini; the docks would be chaos. No reason to wade in.

Even if he acted, it would be after the pseudo-legendary storm passed. Now wasn’t the time.

He logged everything Grandpa had pulled, then laid out yesterday’s haul—Primeape and a Leaf Stone—for appraisal. If the numbers were fine, Grandpa could buy them on the spot; no need to trek to the black market.

Seeing the Leaf Stone and the Primeape’s ball jogged Grandpa’s memory—Shun had also dropped three Pokémon and a space backpack on him to fence. Shun had already told him the whole mess from last night.

He hadn’t expected those two idiots to hit the black market now of all times. He’d already warned Shun: stay away tonight. Let the pseudo-legendary dust settle—and with Team Rocket stirring the pot, it would only get messier.

Grandpa weighed the goods and named a price. ”Primeape two million. Leaf Stone three million. How’s that?”

”Add fifty thousand.” Reiji didn’t mind haggling. The old fox never lost money; that wasn’t a concern.

”You’re hopeless,” Grandpa chuckled, then peeled off from the 9-plus million on the table and pushed them across. ”There you go.”

Reiji swept the cash into his space pack. For a Leaf Stone and a Primeape with middling potential, he was satisfied.

Mid-grade Water Stones sold for around 3.5 million Pokédollars at the department store; the black market ran higher. Stones and held items cut both ways between store and market—starter gear might not move in the black market, but evolution stones always did.

Leaf Stone ran a little higher than Water Stone because of demand across Grass species. As for that Primeape—low-forties potential, two million was fair.

Of course the old fox would still rake a margin. How much wasn’t worth fretting over.

Fresh +5.05 million in hand. With the prior balance at 7,227,000, plus the 9.4 million from the book, plus 5.05 million here, he was sitting on 22,127,000 Pokédollars. Strong teams needed funding; he’d never complain about too much cash.

With business done, Reiji stood to leave. Noon hadn’t even hit; he wasn’t wasting the afternoon block.

”Shun, I’m heading out. Coming?”

”Reiji-nii, I want to talk to Grandpa a bit longer. I’ll meet you at the villa.”

”Got it.” Reiji stepped out, swung by the market for a week of groceries, then flew home on Pelipper.

After he left, Shun hugged Grandpa’s arm. ”How much for my stuff?”

”Ah, that.” Grandpa did the math. ”Around 3.5 Million, but I will add a little more.”

”Then I’ll take my share now.” Shun eyed the table; about four million sat there. Enough.

”You also pulled a held item. Keep the Miracle Seed. Even if you swap later, it’ll still sell for two–three million,” Grandpa added.

”Right. But… we really only made this much from the fixed matches?” Shun squinted at him. He knew the old man’s habits.

”Of course.” Grandpa didn’t love the look; he flicked the boy lightly. ”He got you a Wingull and bought you Mankey, and he’s been coaching you. You think I’d skim over a few million?”

”Yeah, yeah. Grandpa’s the best.” Shun pouted—still sore about the scolding—and didn’t entirely buy the saint act.

”Also, I caught three more last night. I’m short on cubes. Buy more for me—Water, Fighting, Electric, Grass…” The moment Grandpa’s hand twitched, Shun zipped his pack, snatched the underling’s photo Reiji hadn’t taken, and bolted out the door.

”Little brat can run,” Grandpa laughed, his raised hand landing on air. When the boy’s footsteps faded, he sighed and sent someone to purchase cubes, then settled back—leg massage, sweet tea, grapes at his lips. Comfortable life.

…

West Shore villa. Reiji landed as Shun’s taxi pulled in; they entered almost together.

Reiji prepped lunch for the team. While he worked on their own meal, Shun burst into the kitchen.

”Reiji-nii, on the way here I saw someone.”

”Who?” Reiji didn’t see why he was that excited. Not like he’d seen Drake.

He knew Shun was a Drake fanboy—idolizing that undefeated record.

”This guy.” Shun didn’t notice the look and pulled out the photo, pointing to the courier’s lackey—the casino tough.

”Where?” Reiji recognized the greasy face. He’d taken the courier’s photo and left this one with Grandpa—small fry to deal with after the main course. Or never.

Shun producing it now was a surprise.

”On the way here. I saw him go into one of the shore villas. Feels like they’re living out here.”

”Out here?” Reiji took the photo back and thought it through. If the lackey had taken a villa nearby, odds were the courier was inside too.

Interesting. He’d assumed they were under watch since before the fixes—Grandpa had warned them the drunkard had their address. The villa wasn’t exactly a secret.

He just hadn’t expected the courier to rent in the same strip. Watching them home would be easy if you were already neighbors.

Time to scout. With the clubs hosting the tournament, the Pokémon Center’s six practice fields were quiet. Most people were at the arenas. And with tonight’s black-market shakeup, the casino—perched above the market—would likely go dark to avoid splash damage.

Which meant the lackey—and the courier—would hole up in their ”safe house” through the night. Perfect window.

And ”safe house” fit—Grandpa hadn’t traced that address at all, which meant tight privacy and comfort. A discreet bolt-hole.

”Lunch first. This can wait,” Reiji said, setting the photo down.

Even if they moved, it would be at night.

”Okay.” Shun swallowed his excitement. The thought of a night op had him buzzing—especially after that backstab. The poke to get even felt good.

They ate, napped briefly, then trained through the afternoon.

The city’s club tournament held no appeal yet—rookies pecking each other. After five days, once the first cull halved the field and pressure rose, maybe it would be worth watching.

By evening, Reiji had spent the afternoon reading a beginner’s guide to raise Croagunk. He did pull something useful: regular toxin purging helped stabilize internal venom, and draining it wouldn’t harm the body.

The toxin secreted from Croagunk’s fingertips, diluted, could be made into medicine—an ingredient for back-pain remedies. In Sinnoh, Croagunk was even a pharma company mascot.

So the venom could sell? First he’d heard of it. He’d test a batch later.

Dinner finished, they canceled all night drills. The team needed to be fresh for what came after dark. Shun went to talk Mankey through its headspace. Reiji released Croagunk.

He set out half a bowl of Moomoo Milk and Fighting pokecubes.

”Croagunk, feel any better? Hungry? Let’s get some food in you first.”

”Gua… gua…” Fresh from the Heal Ball, Croagunk still sagged, arms limp, sitting without will to move.

It glanced at Reiji, the unfamiliar courtyard, the unfamiliar Pokémon—and understood it had been sold again.

When it had been semi-conscious, it thought it was hallucinating. Now, clearly not. It felt no anger at being dumped. No flare of temper. Nothing at all.

It had nearly poisoned its previous trainer to death. The surprise wasn’t that it’d been abandoned; it was that anyone had bought it at all. Surprise outpaced disappointment.

”Eat first. From now on, you’re with me. Don’t worry about the toxin—I’ll fix it.” Gloved, Reiji stroked its head, then brought a cube to its mouth.

Croagunk sniffed the enticing scent, looked up at Reiji’s steady smile, then opened and chewed.

The gloves didn’t bother it. Its skin was venomous; it knew that much. Gloves were good—for everyone.

It kept its face blank as it ate. It had been sold too many times. Blankness was the mask it’d learned—don’t invest, don’t hope.

Hope made the fall worse. The more you hoped, the harder the drop when you were thrown away. After enough drops, it had learned how not to get hurt.

No hope, no disappointment. Don’t reach out, don’t warm up, don’t attach. Then there’s no rage, no slump, no tears, no crying… It had learned to control its emotions—or maybe they’d just gone numb.

It was tired.

(End of Chapter)

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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