Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Skinny took a cab to the tavern. As soon as he stepped in, he spotted his grandpa behind the bar, hawking his usual counterfeit booze.

The old man noticed him right away this time. He hurried out from behind the counter, waved a waitress over to watch the bar, and pulled Skinny into the back lounge.

Going by last time, Skinny only came here when something important was up.

”What brings you here? Something urgent?” Grandpa shut the door, led him to the sofa, and got straight to the point.

”Grandpa, there’s a tournament in a week. I want an Electric-type.”

”A tournament? An Electric type? How did you know it should be Electric?” The old man blinked—startled. He was the only one who knew he’d managed to secure an Electric Pokémon. How did Skinny find out?

”’Know’? Know what? What are you talking about?” Skinny was confused. He just wanted Grandpa to get him an Electric type—why the big reaction?

”N-nothing.” Seeing Skinny’s blank look, Grandpa secretly exhaled in relief. So the kid didn’t know. He’d panicked—if Skinny knew what Grandpa had done and couldn’t keep his mouth shut, it could get them both killed.

Fortunately, Skinny knew nothing. Grandpa only needed to say he bought it on the black market. He’d already swapped it and covered his tracks—bought another of the same species to replace it and… ”took care of” the middleman, too. Only he knew about the shell game.

”Skinny, this is the ’surprise’ I mentioned the other day. And wouldn’t you know it—it’s an Electric type. If that’s what you want, this one’s perfect.”

He took a Poké Ball from inside his jacket. Inside was a creature with plug-like prongs on its head, an oval body patterned in yellow and black, sharp eyes and little fangs that made its grin look impish—almost mocking. Black rings banded its forearms; its legs were stubby, arms thick, and a lightning bolt ran across its belly.

An Elekid.

”Whoa—Elekid! Grandpa, how did you know I wanted an Electric type?” Skinny sprang up from the sofa, clutching the ball.

”How would I know? Pure coincidence.” Grandpa chuckled. The ”surprise” was Elekid, and it just happened to match the boy’s need—lucky break. He’d heard through the grapevine that the Electabuzz line had a third stage now. Whatever the case, he had to snag an Elekid before that news went public and prices spiked. Call it catching a small wave early. The evolution secret was under wraps for now; it wouldn’t be forever.

”I want to check its ability first.” Skinny set the ball down and flipped open his Ability Compendium. Electabuzz line: Static.

Static: The body carries static electricity; contact may inflict paralysis…

”So it’s Static…” Skinny’s face fell. It wasn’t Volt Absorb or Lightning Rod.

What he didn’t know was that once Elekid evolved into Electivire, Static would become Motor Drive—Electric moves would grant it immunity and a speed boost. That was a real heavy trooper.

”Skinny, do you have specific ability requirements?” Grandpa asked, baffled by the swing from elation to dejection.

”Grandpa, I want an Electric type to counter Electric types. Volt Absorb and Lightning Rod nullify Electric moves—but Elekid’s ability is Static, not those…”

”Hahaha, that’s all?” Grandpa laughed and pointed. ”See those plug prongs on its head?”

”Do they do something special?” Skinny asked.

”That’s how it absorbs electricity. It feeds on power. You can also give it energy cubes.” Grandpa launched into care tips, then handed over a box of Electric-type cubes. ”Here—use these to befriend it. I’ve prepped over a dozen boxes. These store charge—like disposable batteries. Over time they raise an Electric Pokémon’s storage capacity and amp up its Electric moves.”

”I’ll try it.” Skinny opened the carton and reached in—zap. He yelped and snatched his hand back, pricked like by a needle.

”Use gloves for these. Same for Poison-type cubes.” Grandpa passed him a pair. ”Be careful.”

”Got it.” With gloves on, Skinny picked up a pale yellow cube, warm-hued under the light, then released Elekid.

Pop—

Elekid appeared, glanced around, and immediately locked onto the cube in Skinny’s hand. Its stomach rumbled.

”Hungry, huh? Here.” Skinny offered the cube.

”Eli, eli.” Elekid looked at the cube, then at Skinny’s smile. Sensing no malice, it accepted, cradled the cube, and nibbled the crackling treat.

When it finished, Skinny offered another. Just like that, their friendship began—with a tiny square of food.

Grandpa watched his grandson and the Elekid, and the way it interacted with Skinny’s other partners—he hadn’t even noticed there was a Wingull now. The scene warmed him; the boy was really growing up.

As for how he’d gotten Elekid—pure luck and quick hands. It wasn’t one of the breeder shop’s public stock; a talent like this usually came from Elite or Champion bloodlines and was pre-reserved. This one had been smuggled out by a staffer. Grandpa had checked the Electric breeder’s personnel shift logs to confirm the theft—then moved fast. He bought the Elekid, ”handled” the fence, went to the underground Electric breeder, bought a cheap same gender Elekid, and swapped them. Outwardly they were indistinguishable; no internal marks; nothing to fear from an inspection.

Proof of purchase? He had friends in the market, and he’d made sure his buy was nice and high-profile. And if someone later claimed ”talent gaps”… well, the League’s public messaging would cover him. Everyone knew it was fluff, but what breeder would pop that bubble? Risk their bowl of rice—and their head?

Watching Elekid bond with Skinny, Grandpa knew he’d played it right. The swap was perfect. He couldn’t help grinning.

After feeding Elekid and breaking the ice, Skinny finally remembered the man in black on the beach—the heavy look on Reiji’s face—and asked about the red R.

”Grandpa, tonight Reiji and I found a guy in black on the sand with a big red ’R’ on his chest. Do you know who that is?”

”An ’R’? Where is he now?” Grandpa’s smile vanished. He leaned in.

”Reiji had his Pokémon wash him out to sea. I could tell Reiji recognized what that ’R’ meant, but he wouldn’t tell me—said to ask you.”

”He was right not to.” Grandpa decided not to keep Skinny in the dark; curiosity could get him killed. The boy wasn’t a child anymore; he needed an adult’s risk sense.

He chose his words. ”Skinny, that ’R’ is Team Rocket. They’re an underground syndicate spanning multiple regions. I didn’t expect them to be active here.”

”Are they… strong?” Skinny asked, wide-eyed.

”’Strong’ is an understatement. Their territory and power are massive. They can clash head-on with the League and not necessarily come off worse. Their boss can even fight a Champion.”

”So stronger than Drake?” Skinny blurted—the Orange Archipelago’s head trainer was the strongest he knew.

”Drake is nothing next to a Champion. His Dragonite can fight; the rest are just at Elite level.” Grandpa sniffed. He couldn’t beat Drake himself, but that didn’t stop him from looking down on the man. The Archipelago had elderly Elites who avoided the limelight; they let the youngsters be the face.

”That strong…?” Skinny finally understood Reiji’s grim expression. If Team Rocket was involved, it was no trivial matter.

”Keep tonight a secret,” Grandpa said flatly. ”Don’t provoke people like that. Don’t get involved with Team Rocket—at all.”

”I’ll remember.” If even Reiji refused to talk, who was he to meddle?

”All right, I’ve got work. It’s late—sleep here at the tavern. Head over tomorrow.”

”Go on, Grandpa.” Skinny waved and buried himself back in his books. With four Pokémon now, he had even more to learn; he’d read a bit, then turn in.

”Don’t stay up too late. Food’s prepared—take it with you tomorrow.” Seeing Skinny study so earnestly was a relief compared to the playful, unruly kid from before. He almost wanted to thank that young man for straightening his grandson out—then he remembered the million fee and swallowed the thanks. Still… if the results were this good, perhaps it wasn’t a loss after all. People always want more and end up with less.

If Reiji knew what the old man was thinking, he’d probably shrug. A miser’s ”thanks” would be either a few words or two bottles of fake booze. A solid million was far more practical.

After Grandpa left, Skinny set the book down—not because he didn’t want to read, but because he needed sleep. With Elekid, he felt confident about reaching the knockouts. If not this time, next time. A little more time would be perfect.

He also realized something: Reiji hadn’t mentioned tuition all day. Maybe he wasn’t charging Chubbs. And Reiji hadn’t taught Chubbs directly either—he’d handed him off to Skinny. Which meant Chubbs was learning from him, not Reiji. No wonder there was no fee. Best not to tell Chubbs about Skinny’s own payment; it would only breed resentment.

Deep down he knew what Reiji taught him wasn’t the same as what Chubbs would get. How much Chubbs learned would depend on Reiji’s mood—and that had nothing to do with a price tag. Otherwise Reiji wouldn’t have dumped Chubbs on him.

…

Back at the bar, Grandpa resumed pouring fake spirits, mind already churning. If Team Rocket was here, they were after the underground market. The bazaar beneath the tavern would get rowdier by the day—no one would have time to investigate his Elekid swap.

The underground breeder stalls were in for trouble too. If Team Rocket got reckless, snatching baby Pokémon wasn’t unheard of. With chaos erupting, who would bother with an old tavern-keeper?

But if the Pokémon stock got lifted, the whole market would implode. As the gatekeeper here, maybe he should lie low. Time to warn Skinny not to come looking for him here—use the other tavern in town. Move the waitresses, move the cellar stock, shut this place down until things cooled off.

Once decided, he called over two waitresses and sent them to inventory and pack the booze. They’d move it out after tonight.

[End of Chapter]

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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