Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

It took Reiji over an hour to find the address written on the slip of paper.

Once again, it was a back alley—no streetlights, dim and damp, garbage bags piled everywhere, and the occasional shadow flickering past.

Those shadows were likely Pokémon hiding in the city. Some were wild, others abandoned by Trainers.

Stepping through a puddle into the alley, Reiji walked up to a wooden door lit by a dim orange glow. This was the address written on the note.

Knock knock knock—

After confirming he was at the right place, Reiji raised his hand and knocked. It took half a minute for someone inside to respond.

”Who is it?”

”The old man at the bar sent me,” Reiji replied plainly. Otherwise, the person inside might not agree to see him.

Clack—

The door opened. A scruffy old man with round glasses peeked out. He glanced at Reiji, then looked both ways down the alley. Only after confirming no one else was around did he say, ”Come in…”

Reiji said nothing and followed him inside. Only Spinarak accompanied him now.

Now that he was in the city, he had already recalled Poliwhirl, Butterfree, and Pelipper.

Once inside, the old man closed the wooden door and walked ahead without looking back, asking, ”What did that old coot send you here for?”

”Photo for an ID,” Reiji replied quickly and truthfully, following behind while scanning the cluttered room. In the dim yellow light, he couldn’t make out much.

One side of the room held bookshelves, a desk, chairs, and a bed. Books and draft papers were scattered everywhere—on the floor, the desk, and the bed—all covered with strange drawings Reiji couldn’t understand.

The other side held various pieces of electrical equipment. He only recognized the printer; the rest were unfamiliar, likely tools for making fake IDs.

”Put your ID in the black slot on the machine. Sit on that stool…”

As he reached this side of the room, the old man finally gave instructions. Reiji immediately followed, placing the ID and sitting down.

Then the old man walked off.

Reiji blinked. The guy just… left? Who was going to operate the machine?

”Take off your hood and lower the face wrap. Meowth, turn on the light and the machine.”

”Meow~ Meow~”

From the shadows, a creamy-furred Meowth scurried out, pressed a switch, and a white light snapped on above Reiji. He instinctively raised his hand to block the brightness. The old man’s voice came again:

”Take off your hood. Lower the face wrap. Redoing the print costs another thousand.”

Reiji turned toward the voice and saw the old man scribbling on paper, not even glancing his way. Reiji quickly pulled back the hood, lowered his face wrap, straightened his posture, and looked into the camera.

The Meowth pressed another switch. The machine buzzed to life for about thirty seconds before going quiet.

Then the light shut off, and Meowth disappeared back into the dark. Reiji lifted the face wrap and put his hood back on.

The old man’s voice followed: ”Take your ID. Money on the table. You can leave.”

Reiji retrieved the card from the machine—his ID now bore a freshly printed photo of himself. He tucked it into his coat, pulled out a 1,000 Pokédollar note, set it on the table, and left the house.

Bang—

As soon as he stepped out, the wooden door slammed shut behind him—clearly shut by that Meowth.

Throughout the entire photo session, the old man never looked up from his desk. He hadn’t seen Reiji’s face at all.

Probably by design—to avoid trouble later, he intentionally avoided looking. The only one who saw Reiji’s face was that Meowth.

But Pokémon can’t talk… or at least, they usually can’t.

Still, getting a Pokémon to talk isn’t impossible.

But what would it take?

Killing Nurse Joy? Or Officer Jenny? Or maybe the city mayor?

What, someone would summon a Legendary Pokémon or a Psychic type capable of telepathy just to expose a fake ID?

Yeah right. No one’s that bored, tracking down every harmless forged ID.

Besides, the old man said this ID was already entered into the League’s system. That made it a real ID. Even if it used an orphanage as a cover, it meant the League’s system had a loophole.

If the League ever launched a crackdown and upgraded the ID system, getting fake documents would become much harder.

Unless you were someone like a member of Team Rocket. Otherwise, pulling a person out of thin air wasn’t easy.

Now that his fake ID was complete, Reiji of course wanted to test it right away—to see if it could pass for a real one. He was genuinely impatient.

The old man had said a Pokémon Center could verify it. Reiji believed him—but he wasn’t going there.

Trusting someone like that was like walking into a lion’s den. Not a chance.

He’d test it somewhere safer.

Pokémon Centers weren’t the only places that scanned IDs—hotels did, too.

All he needed to do was try checking into a hotel. If they accepted the ID, that was enough.

Acting on the idea, he left the alley and headed straight for the nearest hotel. He was in the southern part of the city—not near the Pokémon Center on the east side.

Hotels there were probably packed anyway, considering how active the battle scene was.

Even here, the first hotel he tried was full. Only on the third attempt did he find a vacancy.

He pulled out his freshly printed ID and handed it to the front desk clerk.

”One room, please.”

”Certainly, sir. We have standard single rooms for 6,000 Pokédollars per night, deluxe single rooms for 12,000, Gym Leader suites for 30,000, and Elite suites for 70,000. What kind would you like?”

”Standard single,” Reiji answered.

He wanted to refuse outright, but didn’t want the awkwardness. The deeply awkward kind.

Still—damn, this place was expensive. Even the cheapest room cost 6,000. He might as well have camped out in a tent.

Without Pokémon Centers, staying in hotels would bankrupt a person.

”How long will you be staying?”

”One night,” Reiji said dryly.

One night was already painful. More than that and he’d be completely drained—nothing left but dust.

”Your standard single is ready. Room 8012 on the 8th floor. Here’s your key.”

”And your ID. Please keep it safe.”

”Thanks,” Reiji said, taking the key. Just as he turned to head upstairs, the clerk called out again.

”Sir, payment first, please.”

Reiji froze mid-step. He’d nearly forgotten to pay.

Quickly reaching into his coat pocket, he handed over 6,000 Pokédollars.

The clerk added, ”If you need anything, feel free to contact us anytime.”

”Got it,” Reiji nodded.

”If you’d like drinks, snacks, or meals, you can use the bedside phone to call the front desk. We’ll send it right up.”

Reiji nodded again and headed upstairs.

The moment he stepped into the elevator, he let out a sigh of relief. That was more stressful than a robbery.

Actually, robbery might’ve been easier.

Er… just kidding. Pretend he didn’t say that. No one needed to know he had social anxiety.

Key in hand, he rode the elevator to the 8th floor, found room 8012, and opened the door.

A spotless white bed met his eyes. Aside from the bed, the standard room was pretty bare—just two nightstands, a desk, a TV, an air conditioner, a bathroom…

Some toiletries, a big window… and that was it.

But that was fine. He was only here to test the ID. And just like that, 6,000 Pokédollars were gone.

Ouch. That hurt.

Still, the bed was really comfy—way better than a tent or sleeping bag. At least it was money well spent.

He checked the bathroom—it was clean, with a glass shower stall and no weird smells.

He decided to shower first, then head out to investigate the city’s Pokémon-related prices.

He wanted to compare prices in the city vs. the black market to see which was better.

But first, a bath.

Before entering the bathroom, he let Poliwhirl out and told Spinarak to hop off his shoulder and wait on the bed.

”You two, don’t wander around or mess with anything. If you break something, we’ll have to pay for it.”

”Poli poli,” Poliwhirl immediately froze at the mention of paying compensation. It didn’t dare touch a thing.

Reiji took off his black windbreaker and stepped into the shower. As the water poured down, he glanced at the bathroom mirror—and noticed his face had gotten darker.

He hadn’t seen it in the ID photo, but under good lighting, the tan was obvious. Too many days in the sun on that island.

But anglers were always tanned anyway. Besides, at night, a dark complexion helped him blend in.

As long as he avoided direct sunlight, his skin would eventually lighten again. It just needed time to shed old cells.

Not that he cared—he wasn’t a girl. Skin tone and looks didn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to show his face in public anyway.

And as the saying went: in ”tall, rich, handsome,” rich came first.

In his past life, money was everything. With enough of it, you could get whatever you wanted.

And if you couldn’t, it just meant you hadn’t spent enough.

That held true in this world, too. He’d already seen Water-type starters that cost tens of millions.

...

After a full-body scrub, he felt refreshed—and he’d rubbed off a surprising amount of grime.

Stepping out, he saw Poliwhirl still sitting obediently on the carpet, and Spinarak calmly sprawled on the bed.

Seeing both Pokémon so well-behaved, he slipped back into his now-slightly-sour windbreaker.

Soon, he’d buy new clothes. He wasn’t wearing this outfit—the gear of a dead Pokémon Hunter—any longer than necessary.

He’d killed the guy himself, after all.

Wearing it in a pinch was one thing. Now it was time to upgrade.

After dressing, he called Spinarak back to his shoulder.

”Let’s go. Poliwhirl, we’re heading out to explore.”

”Yito yito~” Spinarak jumped up and nuzzled Reiji’s cheek—it had been his loyal bodyguard for days now.

”Poli poli!” Poliwhirl followed quickly. It too was Reiji’s guard—nothing would happen to him on its watch.

Reiji didn’t know what was going on in their heads, but this time, he played it smart—no stairs. He found the elevator and rode it down.

In the lobby, he pulled up his black hood to cover his head. But he didn’t wear the face wrap anymore.

No need. He wasn’t a fugitive now. He had a legitimate ID.

He saw the front desk clerk again but didn’t approach. They were just passing acquaintances.

Soon he stepped out of the hotel, ready to head for the commercial street near the Pokémon Center to investigate prices.

But after just a few steps, he spotted a flashing red-and-blue motorcycle light.

He was a law-abiding citizen now—shouldn’t fear Officer Jenny.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling nervous. What if his fake ID got exposed?

Just because the hotel accepted it didn’t mean Officer Jenny’s system would.

As he turned to take another route, Officer Jenny also noticed him—the black-clad figure looked awfully similar to the robbery suspect described by victims a few nights ago.

Without hesitation, Officer Jenny mounted her motorcycle and rode toward Reiji, accompanied by a dashing, orange-furred Growlithe at her side.

(End of Chapter)

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