Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Reiji woke to the patter outside; after so many hot days, the temperature had finally dipped. He stretched, then headed to the kitchen to make breakfast for the little guys. Skinny rolled out of bed to help, and together they had food ready in no time.

Chubbs actually showed up early today and caught breakfast. While eating, he brought up training.

”Reiji, can my Krabby train with your Kingler?”

”Sure,” Reiji said after a beat, recalling Krabby’s stats. ”But have Krabby learn Agility from Kingler first.”

”Agility?” Chubbs immediately remembered Kingler using it to beat a Jolteon before. Yeah, that sounded important.

After a bit more small talk, they all headed into the usual, mind-numbing morning workout.

Reiji still didn’t strap weights on Poliwhirl—just normal running. Its fist hadn’t healed yet; the backlash from that ”ice-burst” punch had been nasty. Even if they used it again, they’d need to be cautious.

Morning training flew by. Reiji showered, changed, and started lunch; Skinny helped. After several days of grinding, Chubbs finally wasn’t collapsing on the ground—his stamina had caught up. Keep this up and the ”Chubbs” part would start to fade.

Post-lunch nap, then the three headed out together. Reiji needed to drop Kingler off for the two remaining moves, and there was still today’s staged bouts to run—lots to do.

This afternoon, Skinny wasn’t in a rush, so he and Chubbs tagged along to the Beach. At the lifeguard tower, Reiji had them wait while he went to release Kingler.

”Good afternoon, Mr. Muta,” he called up to the lifeguard in bright blue trunks.

”You’re here,” Muta answered, eyes never leaving the glittering sea, afraid to miss even a single cry for help.

”I’ll leave Kingler with you again to—”

Muta raised a hand for silence, vaulted down the tower, and snapped a Poké Ball: Pelipper burst out. The Kingler resting under the tower sprang up too, and the three bolted for the surf.

Reiji looked up—someone was drowning. Before he could process it, Muta was already in the water; Kingler guarded his flank as Pelipper scooped the struggling tourist. A surfboard thudded ashore—so it had been a wipeout and a riptide.

Muta brought the victim in, checked breathing—still there—and told him to be careful before jogging back to the tower.

”Mr. Muta, is he okay?” Reiji asked, returning to business.

”He’s fine.” Muta toweled off, glanced at Kingler by Reiji’s feet, and waved. ”Leave Kingler here. Pick it up later—I’ll handle the last two moves.”

”Thanks, Mr. Muta.” Kingler was in good hands, Reiji headed back—only to find a little crowd around the palm Skinny and Chubbs had been waiting under. Someone was cheering.

He drifted in to watch. A passerby had challenged Skinny—recognition, obviously. Skinny had notched a five-win streak on this very beach; people knew the face.

Poliwhirl vs. Poliwhirl. From accuracy to punch, Skinny’s Poliwhirl clearly had the edge. Lately, Reiji had noticed Poliwhirl numbers ticking up around town—probably his fault.

After a few exchanges, victory: Skinny’s Poliwhirl. A tidy 10,000 won.

The loser approached, asking how Skinny had raised his Poliwhirl to hit so hard. Skinny only shared: train accuracy. If you can’t land a move, power’s meaningless.

He didn’t ask about Waterfall bursts, and Skinny quietly exhaled. Grandpa had warned him—don’t reveal the Waterfall regimen before you’ve got the strength to protect yourself. That’s how you get killed. If pushed, he’d parrot Reiji’s line: it’s just Waterfall. As for how they trained it—pressing on would be rude.

More challengers wanted in, but when Skinny spotted Reiji, he waved them off. ”I’m done for now. If you want a battle, head to the Center—got other business.”

Right—the real job today was helping Grandpa and Reiji ”cure” some gamblers.

”Nice work, Skinny. Congrats,” Reiji applauded.

”I’ve got a long way to go,” Skinny scratched his head, embarrassed. Reiji could toss around five-hundred-thousand-credit stakes; Skinny’s knees went weak just standing on those platforms.

”Whoa, Skinny, your Poliwhirl got even stronger!” Chubbs barrelled in, voice booming.

”Chubbs, keep it down,” Skinny winced. They trained morning, noon, and night; if that didn’t show, what was the point?

”All right, time to head to the arena,” Reiji said—only Skinny understood the subtext.

He shot Reiji a look: Should we ditch Chubbs? Reiji shook his head. No need.

”What are you talking about? I don’t get it!” Chubbs whined, worried he was being left out again.

”Skinny’ll fill you in. You two go hail a cab—I’ll be right there,” Reiji said. He needed to release Pelipper.

Pelipper took one look toward the beach and knew the drill, winging off.

”Keep an eye on Kingler for me,” Reiji called.

A cry in reply, and Pelipper didn’t even look back.

They piled into the taxi Skinny flagged. Chubbs chattered nonstop. ”Skinny, you really made ten thousand yesterday? I wanna try!”

”Don’t. Your mom’ll hunt me down for ’leading you astray,’” Skinny said. ”Minimum bet’s ten grand. You even have that kind of pocket money?”

”Ten… grand? I, I—” Chubbs faltered, then glanced at Skinny.

”Nope,” Skinny shut him down; he could read Chubbs like a book.

”Fine,” Chubbs muttered, deflated, resigning himself to spectating.

At the Sailors’ Bar, Skinny and Chubbs went to watch the feeds; Reiji sat alone to wait for the contact. The same masked man showed, ordered plain water, slid a white slip under the glass, and vanished. Reiji read it out back, then burned it. Two wins, one loss in the middle—throw the second match.

Nice. No loss today.

He headed to the arena. A challenger stepped up as soon as he appeared, and when a platform freed up, Reiji took his spot.

Same playbook, different order: he led Rhyhorn for the ”win” rounds—it was the safest way to secure them. For the ”lose” round, any non-Poliwhirl would do. He would not field Poliwhirl; show that thing and the queue evaporated. People had seen it topple a club’s senior electric-type coach; they weren’t stupid.

As Reiji’s battles began, Skinny placed bets; Chubbs watched him bet, watched him win, and could only stare. Skinny couldn’t explain the scam here, so he just kept nagging Chubbs not to gamble.

Three staged matches later, Reiji netted fifty thousand. Skinny won again and bounded over, grinning.

”Reiji, I won again!”

”I’ve got another errand—heading back,” Reiji smiled, clapping Skinny’s shoulder. Hopefully the kid wouldn’t get hooked.

”Chubbs, my treat—buffet, all you can eat!” Skinny hauled the boy off. At two thousand a head, Chubbs seldom splurged like that.

Reiji returned to the Sailors’ Bar to wait for payout. The masked courier slid him a bulging envelope at the counter and left without a word. Reiji pocketed it and walked out. If it wasn’t at least five hundred thousand, he’d refuse future cooperation. They’d already laid down terms.

Outside, he counted—exactly 500,000. The envelope went into his pack, and he headed for the Beach.

He didn’t interrupt Kingler’s lesson; instead, he released Poliwhirl and ”watched the sea” with it.

Okay, fine—he was there to watch swimsuit girls. Good thing this was the Pokémon world, or even looking would get you in trouble.

At sunset he collected Kingler. No Amnesia or Swords Dance yet—continue tomorrow. Still, Muta said Kingler was close.

No rush. Time was on their side.

Pelipper dropped in as they left, shaking its head: no incidents today. Reiji hopped on and flew home to make dinner.

Skinny arrived right on time but had already eaten out; he just fed his Pokémon and jumped into night drills.

Reiji’s team trained too. Poliwhirl and Kingler practiced Protect on each other’s Water Gun until they’d be reliable at 10% mastery in a few days. Rhyhorn got its scrub-down and massage from Skinny and promptly zonked out.

Aside from Spinarak on perimeter watch, the others just goofed off. Magikarp and Wishiwashi aside, Reiji needed to give those slackers chores.

Butterfree, Pelipper, Slowpoke—three with nothing on the schedule. He decided to have them learn Double Team from Skinny’s Breloom. Once one learned it, they could pass it along.

”Butterfree, Slowpoke—go study Double Team with Breloom,” Reiji waved them over and explained the technique.

”Butterfree!” It had seen Double Team on TV and got it at once. It scooped Slowpoke from the pool’s edge and floated off to practice.

Pelipper was busy on Rain Dance, so no new moves for it tonight. As for Farfetch’d—still moody, so Reiji left it be.

With everyone assigned, Reiji sprawled on the folding cot, hoping for moon-gazing time. No luck—solid cloud cover all day.

He drifted into thought: three days until the club league—might as well show up for the spectacle.

Thinking turned into sleep. Outside in the courtyard, no one woke him; he slept straight to morning. The team trained until 11 p.m., then Skinny called it. Some curled up by Reiji’s cot, some in the water, some in the living room…

—

Another cool day. Reiji’s routine was full and boring: make breakfast, eat, morning drills, lunch, drop Kingler off in the afternoon, run the staged matches (another 550,000 earned today), pick Kingler up, make dinner, then night training.

And just like that, the day was gone. Two days left for the tournament…

(End of chapter)

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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