Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Back at the villa by dusk, Reiji started on dinner.

After they ate, they returned to the beach. This time, no one interrupted their Wingull catching.

They’d screened five hundred Wingull last night and another hundred that afternoon… With more and more birds carrying the black marks Skinny had drawn on their wings, the unmarked ones were dwindling. There weren’t many left to choose from.

Hopefully they’d nab a decent Wingull tonight. If they still couldn’t find a high-potential one, it would be up to Skinny—keep grinding slowly, or settle. Reiji wasn’t going to dictate that choice.

As midnight approached, besides the 49-potential Wingull they’d found earlier, they finally pulled out one with 52 potential.

They had screened over three hundred that evening—more than nine hundred in total, nearly a thousand Wingull—just to find two with respectable potential.

Wild Pokémon talent variance really is… something. Not only uneven, but truly high-potential ones are painfully rare.

Reiji told Skinny to sit and rest a bit. A 52-potential Wingull was basically ”shop-treasure”. If you’re not chasing a ”Champion” ceiling, raise it well and it’s plenty; breaking into the Elite Four tier in the future wouldn’t be far-fetched.

”Big Bro Reiji, let me catch these last few Wingull and I’ll come over.”

Skinny finished forcing the remaining unmarked stragglers into balls before he flopped down beside Reiji, panting.

To get a high-potential Wingull, he’d gone all out. The stubborn ones got ”persuaded” the hard way—he, Poliwhirl, and Breloom were wiped.

He’d never imagined catching a single Pokémon could be this exhausting—and who knew when it would end.

”Big Bro Reiji, did we get a good one tonight?”

”Not bad. We found a Wingull that’s better than the one you got yesterday.” Reiji held up the ball with the 52-potential bird. ”This one’s decent.”

”It’s worth probably around ten million.”

Skinny stared at the ball and swallowed. He hadn’t expected an eight-figure Pokémon to be ”this easy”—two days and they had one.

”Ten million? Who’s going to believe you?” Reiji smiled wryly.

”True…” Skinny thought it through. If the parents are unknown, you can’t prove value. Even a pro breeder’s appraisal is ultimately their reputation on the line. One miscall and your name’s toast—who’d trade the lifetime earning power of a breeder’s license for a mere ten million? Penny wise, pound foolish.

”By the way, is your friend a League-certified rookie Trainer?” Reiji asked, though he pretty much knew the answer.

”Yeah. He passed and gets League benefits.” That was why Skinny wanted certification too—no Trainer wants to miss those perks. Unless you’re a villain who doesn’t care.

”You’re not certified yet, right?”

”No.” Skinny nodded, a little down. He’d been working toward it. ”There are six requirements for rookie certification. I’ve met five. I’m just missing ten thousand contribution points.”

”Five already, huh.” Reiji thought of the grandpa at the tavern. With family backing, the conditions should be simple:

Age ten or older—check.

Possess a starter Pokémon—check.

Detailed home address and family status—check.

Stable income source—check (Grandpa runs a tavern).

Ten thousand League contribution points—in progress.

A guarantor—likely Grandpa again; after a lifetime hustling, he’s at least a veteran Trainer.

If that’s the framework, could Reiji mirror the process himself?

#1 and #2 were trivial. #3—home address and ”family status”—was the snag.

His current address was the tavern. ”Family status,” though? He was listed as alone.

He had mentioned ”adopted” at the police station, but he wasn’t officially registered under the tavern grandpa’s household—he hadn’t become the old man’s legal ward, and he had zero interest in doing so. He wasn’t becoming anyone’s son.

”Kid, how strict is the League on the ’family status’ part?”

Much easier to ask Skinny than wrangle with that crafty old man.

”You need a long-term, detailed residence…and at least one immediate family member,” Skinny said, remembering how Grandpa had solved that for him.

”What if you don’t have one?” Reiji asked.

”Don’t have…?” Skinny looked at him, realizing Reiji really was alone—fake ID and all, where would ”immediate family” come from?

”If you don’t, the League requires a three-year observation period.” He’d heard the other orphans talk about it: register at a Pokémon Center and, with three years of clean record and the other requirements met, you can certify as a rookie.

”Three years of observation?” So he’d need to stay put for three years to satisfy #3.

”Meaning three years with no criminal record,” Skinny clarified.

”What about an adopted immediate relative—would that count?” Reiji was really asking: can you pay to solve this?

”No. It must be a blood immediate relative. And it ties directly into requirement #4,” Skinny reminded him.

Right—#4 is a stable, legal income, and implicitly whether that immediate family will provide resources for your Pokémon. The requirements were interlocking—no easy loophole. Unless you changed your name and rewrote the police database to show an immediate relative, which was… dicey. Easy to check, and he’d be shackled as someone’s son or grandson. Hard pass.

So the ”immediate family” gate couldn’t be brute-forced with cash without future blowback. Better to accept the three-year route if it came to that.

The other three gates—stable income, 10k points, guarantor—could all be greased with money.

Man, the League really knows how to jam you up.

One ”immediate family” clause locks you in: either wait three years, or get stuck. No shortcut… or at least none he knew yet. He’d need to ask someone who knows the back channels—definitely not Skinny. The tavern old man would.

In the end, Reiji shelved the ”wait three years” idea. He wasn’t staying here that long; that was never happening. And if there’s an official route, there’s probably an unofficial one too.

He’d come to Kinnow Island to learn the ropes of human society and to get League rookie status. Goal one was done. Goal two could wait. That gate is mainly to filter newcomers; with enough strength later, it should be easy enough. No rush.

But he was absolutely not becoming anyone’s ”grandson.” If worst came to worst, the three-year track was the only tolerable compromise.

It was close to midnight. They hadn’t found anything higher than what they had, and he was ready to sleep. The 52-potential Wingull would be left to Skinny; the rest was his choice.

”Let’s turn in,” Reiji said, brushing sand from his pants.

”Big Bro Reiji, there are a dozen more you haven’t checked yet!” Skinny hurried after him, pressing the last batch of balls into his hands.

”A dozen, huh…” After nearly a thousand Wingull and only two standouts, Reiji didn’t believe these last few would hide a miracle.

He checked nine in a row—garbage potential. He tossed each ball back for Skinny to release.

Four left. He scanned one—32. Release.

The last three: 28… 56… 41.

”Hold up.” Reiji lobbed the 28-potential ball back for release and kept the 56-potential one, opening its status panel.

Its potential was only a hair under his own Pelipper’s.

[Wingull]

Type: Water/Flying

Gender: Male

Potential: 56%

Level: 11.23%

Ability: Hydration / 7.39%

Moves: Gust / 5.59%, Air Cutter / 4.61%, Soak …

Well, I’ll be… what kind of stupid luck is this? Not only 56 potential, but with Soak as an egg move.

He said nothing—just tossed the ball to Skinny. ”Raise this one right and hitting Elite will be easy.”

”Really? Better than the previous one?”

”Yeah—slightly better.”

He didn’t hide the number, only the existence of his panel. If he wanted to grind for high-potential Pokémon, he could—the question was whether it was worth the trouble. For core team members, though, he absolutely wanted high potential.

Skinny, grinning from ear to ear, carried the ball back to the villa, ready to win the Wingull over with water-type Pokéblocks.

To keep the newly ”beaten-into-the-ball” Wingull from bolting, he even bribed Reiji’s Pelipper with a Pokéblock to help pin it the moment it came out.

”Wuu-oh! Wuu-oh!”

The instant it emerged, the Wingull tried to take off—Pelipper pinned it with one wing. Pressure from an evolved form froze it solid.

”Wingull, we didn’t hurt you too badly when we caught you, right?” Skinny sprayed a Potion on the wing it had dinged during those ”persuasion” captures.

Then he offered a Water-type Pokéblock, far more tempting than bread.

When Wingull munched it down, Skinny coaxed, ”Want to be my partner? I’ll feed you well and keep you comfy—lots more of this good stuff.”

He tempted it with another crystal-clear, premium Water Pokéblock. The scent and the water energy radiating from it were irresistible to a Wingull.

”Wuu-oh…”

Wingull glanced around; with so many Pokémon watching, it cocked its head, then gulped down the second cube.

Only then did Pelipper lift its wing—since the junior had accepted the boy, continued suppression would be rude.

Seeing the second Pokéblock go down, Skinny knew it had agreed. He hugged the bird and tapped the ball to it.

”All right, Kiddo—I’m turning in. You still need to make a run to the orphanage.” Reiji handed him three more balls: the Wingull with 52, and the ones with 49 and 41.

”These are… for the orphanage?” Skinny asked.

He knew one of them was 50+ potential, and his own was even better.

”The one with the black mark is for Nana. The other two go to the director—let him distribute them.”

”I got it.” Skinny nodded hard, gathered the three balls, and headed out.

”Don’t mention what they’re worth. You’ll bring the orphanage nothing but trouble.”

”I know.” Skinny understood the rule about not flashing wealth; it gets you killed. Grandpa had told him the same thing.

When he’d gone, Reiji hit the shower and bed. Two days of running around with Skinny—plenty of pretty girls to look at—and Poliwhirl was nearly fully recovered. Tomorrow, it was back to the training plan.

[End of Chapter]

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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