Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Seeing Skinny wasn’t that excited, Chubbs suddenly remembered something and suggested, ”Skinny, the Fighting Cup is being run by the Fighting Club, so we can’t enter that one. But…”

”There’s another big tournament—jointly hosted by six clubs. We can go sign up now. The registration deadline is seven days before the prelims.”

”This big tournament is split into three stages: prelims are 1v1, the knockouts are 3v3, and the final is 6v6. We can enter the prelims even if we don’t have three Pokémon.”

”I do,” Skinny cut him off with a wry smile. ”I just caught a Wingull.”

Hearing Skinny already had a third Pokémon made Chubbs feel even worse. His buddy had gone and caught something new and didn’t even take him along—Chubbs’ heart hurt.

Chubbs ignored the smile on Skinny’s face. Anyway, it was only just caught; actually battling was still a long way off. He kept explaining, ”We could also head into the woods and catch any Bug-type just to make up the numbers. If either of us reaches the knockouts, it can be our third. We can always release it after the tournament.”

”Since you’ve got three already, I still need one. I’ll have to catch a bug before the knockouts…”

”A tournament, huh?” Skinny thought for a bit and didn’t answer immediately.

With Chubbs’ strength, getting to the knockouts was a stretch. He wasn’t counting on it. If it were Reiji, maybe—but for them? Nah.

Still, the word ”tournament” tugged at him. That 3-win streak on the beach didn’t mean much; only a real placing in a real tournament would prove all his training meant something—and prove to his grandpa that he’d truly changed, not just talked big.

But why such a large event?

And why would six clubs co-host it together? In previous years the city office led it. Why clubs this time?

Skinny asked the question on his mind.

”As for that,” Chubbs said, ”I heard it’s because of all those new Fighting-types showing up. The Fighting Club launched the Fighting Cup, so the other clubs followed with their own event…”

He wasn’t totally sure why either—just a rumor he’d picked up at school. He mainly wanted to join the fun. Tournaments were exciting.

”What are the requirements? Do you know the rules?” Skinny asked.

Seeing Skinny interested, Chubbs relayed the ”first-hand intel” he’d picked up from classmates.

”The Fighting Cup only allows Fighting-type Pokémon. The rules are simple: in the ring you can only use Fighting-type moves. It’s not like those old ’anything-goes’ Fighting Cups where you could bring non-Fighting Pokémon—none of that this time.”

”Your Breloom qualifies for the Fighting Cup. As for the six-club tournament, you need at least one Pokémon registered to enter. There are no limits on a trainer’s identity, age, or team strength—anyone can enter.”

”But you must register at least one competing Pokémon and at most six. If you want to reach the knockouts, you should register the number you’ll need. A single Pokémon can only fight in the prelims.”

”For the prelims (1v1), each trainer only gets one chance—lose and you’re out. The knockouts are 3v3. In the first game, both sides send out at the same time and ’race to attack.’ Each side is allowed three switches total.”

”If the winner doesn’t switch out, the winner gets priority to act first next round. If both sides switch out, then both must again send out simultaneously and race to attack.”

”If the losing side has already sent a Pokémon and the winner switches after, that switch doesn’t count—the recalled Pokémon is considered forfeited. Subsequent games follow the same rule as game two. In the 6v6 final, it’s the same structure, but each side has six total switches.”

Skinny quietly committed it all to memory and picked out the key points.

Both sides are allowed to recall—and you’re limited to three total switches—to prevent skewed situations.

If the game-one winner can’t switch, game two could become a hard type-counter and feel unfair.

If the loser sends first and then the winner swaps after seeing it, they’d always counterpick, which is also unfair.

So they set: if both recall, then both must send out simultaneously and race to attack again.

If anyone switches mid-game, the other side can too, but you only get three total. After that, you can’t switch unless your Pokémon faints.

These rules also curb certain abilities—like passive healing, status clearing, or stacking buffs…

Probably to stop people from bringing a full Regenerator-style core and rotating forever.

Pros and cons, sure—but six switches in 6v6 is already generous.

Some confident aces won’t need to switch at all to sweep a 3v3, even a 6v6…

”Do you know the prizes?” Skinny asked. That’s the whole point, right?

”Only trainers who reach knockouts get prizes. The top three are the best:

— 1st place: pick any one Pokémon from the six breeding centers.

— 2nd: a high-grade Evolution Stone, your choice.

— 3rd: an Advanced-tier held item, your choice.

Basically, for all three: pick what you like—Pokémon, Stone, item.”

”Not bad,” Skinny breathed. The clubs were loaded; the prize pool was crazy. If ”any Pokémon” literally meant any, a ’store mascot’ tier baby alone was worth millions.

Plus Evolution Stones and advanced items—and even just reaching the knockouts came with rewards.

But since there were no entry restrictions, first place was a pipe dream. Even if Reiji entered, he’d likely only make knockouts.

Over the last few days he’d learned Reiji’s current strength was, at best, ”Veteran-class,” same as Grandpa’s take.

If they ran into an Elite trainer, Reiji wouldn’t be taking the crown.

(They were both misjudging him, though. By League metrics, Reiji was only Advanced, not Veteran—the folk definitions were sloppy, so people often over—or under—estimated their rank.)

Skinny sighed. This wasn’t really their stage yet. He didn’t turn Chubbs down outright. After a pause he said, ”Registration closes in seven days, right? Let me think about it. If I feel like playing, we can at least go mess around in the prelims.”

”Deal! We’ll do that,” Chubbs grinned. That was as good as a yes. They’d probably stall out in prelims anyway—participation mattered more than results.

Chubbs wanted to keep chatting, but Skinny didn’t answer—too absorbed in his book. Not wanting to bother him, Chubbs zoned out the whole afternoon.

Study time flew by; soon it was evening.

Dinner time again. Reiji called Skinny into the kitchen, and they quickly had food on the table.

Chubbs mooched dinner too, then got ready to head home while there was still light.

”Skinny, I’m heading out,” he said in the yard, recalling his Krabby and Wooper and saying goodbye.

”We’re just about to head out too—other direction, though,” Skinny recalled Breloom and Wingull, keeping only Poliwhirl at his side.

”You’re going out? Where to?” Chubbs’ curiosity was impossible to hide. Did Skinny have night plans without telling him?

”Night training. Wanna come?” Skinny offered.

”Training? At night?” Chubbs was stunned. He wanted to ask if Skinny was serious. Secretly hiring a tutor was one thing, but extra sessions at night too? Skinny was going way too hard. They’d agreed to be mutual scrubs—how dare he sprint ahead and widen the gap!

He wanted to go, but the sky over the sea was already darkening. If he didn’t get home, his mom would ground him tomorrow—and then he wouldn’t be able to hang out.

”Forget it—getting late. I gotta hurry home,” he said at last, waved goodbye, and caught a cab back to his house on the east side.

After he left, Reiji took four Pokémon—Poliwhirl, Krabby, Rhyhorn, and Spinarak—while Skinny brought Poliwhirl, Breloom, and Wingull. Together, they returned to their usual training spot near the coastal woods.

Once each Pokémon peeled off to its own drills, Skinny fetched dry wood and rekindled the old campfire.

The flames rose slowly. Reiji and Skinny sat around the blaze, letting time drift by, chatting now and then about nothing in particular.

”Reiji, do you like stargazing?” Skinny asked.

”What makes you say that?” Reiji leaned against a trunk and glanced across the fire. He wasn’t sure why the kid would ask.

”I’ve noticed you look at the stars for a long time every night,” Skinny said. He figured Reiji was thinking of something—or someone.

”The sky here is beautiful. Isn’t it?” Reiji smiled, not really answering. The point wasn’t the question. Everyone has something—or someone—they miss.

”It is. Really beautiful,” Skinny murmured, leaning back to stare at the bright river of stars. At the orphanage he’d often lie in bed and look out at the night, wondering about the mom and dad he’d never known.

He could barely remember, or never even knew, their faces. At three years old, memories were already fog.

But a couple days ago Grandpa had given him their photo with him in their arms. He kept it in his shirt now.

Skinny took out the family photo and, by the firelight, studied his young, radiant parents holding him—so happy, so full of life…

After a moment he tucked it close again and told Reiji about earlier that day. ”Chubbs said the clubs in the city are running a big joint tournament. Are you going to enter?”

”A club tournament?” Reiji asked lightly. ”Let’s hear it.”

These little local events were hard to win—like buying a lottery ticket back in his other life.

If the League ran it, there’d at least be a fig leaf. With clubs, they might not even pretend.

Unless your raw strength spoke for itself, don’t dream of the crown.

Reiji listened quietly as Skinny laid out the organizers, the Fighting Cup, the rules, the dates, locations, and the prizes.

”The rules sound fair enough, but with no entry limits you’ll draw in some old sharks,” Reiji said at last.

If the prize pool was fat, old hands were guaranteed—and yes, a ”pick any Pokémon”, worth millions, would bring them out to bully rookies.

And beyond that, the top three were probably already earmarked—most likely internal picks from the six clubs. Keep the water in the family buckets.

It was one week away, played across the six club venues. Each club would open two to four arenas as official sites.

Great advertising too—hype the clubs and drive their breeding centers’ sales while debuting new baby stock.

They didn’t want the Fighting Club soaking up all the traffic from the Fighting Cup, so the six-way tournament split the flow. If the other guy doesn’t profit, you don’t lose—something like that.

It was the clubs and breeders playing politics. Nothing to do with them—maybe they’d even snag a discount deal or two.

Winning it all wasn’t happening. But entering for the experience and watching real matches? Worth it.

”Interested in that kind of thing?” Skinny asked. Reiji hadn’t answered, and Skinny was curious. With Reiji’s level, even if old sharks showed up, he felt Reiji could still place well. He believed in him.

[End of Chapter]

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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