Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

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By the second day after the chase, the sky was clear.

It was also the first day of Reiji’s northbound trip. By noon the sun was so harsh it stung the skin. Luckily, both of them had jackets, or they’d be peeling.

Pelipper had flown all morning before they found a lush green island. From high up they could see thick vegetation, loads of wild Bug-type Pokémon, and even a town. They didn’t plan to head into town yet; better to sleep out in the wild and go in tomorrow.

On an unfamiliar island, the wilds felt safer than the streets. Wild Pokémon were one thing; people were another. If they had League licenses, they’d just crash at the Pokémon Center. They didn’t—so camping it was.

After the two Pelipper dropped them in the forest, Reiji pulled a groundsheet and an inflatable tent from his pack and had Shun set it up while he put together lunch for the team.

Once everyone ate, Reiji left four Pokémon outside to guard the camp—Spinarak, Poliwhirl, Kingler, and Butterfree. Shun left Poliwhirl and Breloom on watch, and Spinarak webbed the area around the tent. With six Pokémon guarding them, the two finally burrowed into their sleeping bags and knocked out.

They didn’t wake until dusk.

They built a small fire and prepped dinner for the team and themselves.

”Reiji… did we actually make it out?” Shun asked, cupping a bowl of hot soup. It was the calmest moment since the chase began.

”More or less,” Reiji said, sipping his own. The three pursuers were dealt with, they’d slipped the cruise ship without getting nabbed by the captain or the crew—safe enough.

”Where do we go next?” Shun stared into the flames, then up at the fresh moon. He hadn’t planned to come this far. He also knew what was coming—Reiji would send him home. He sighed and asked anyway.

”There’s a town on this island. Tomorrow we’ll go ask around. If there’s a ferry, you’re taking it home,” Reiji said, leaning back against a tree. His voice was flat.

Shun wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. He was too weak. If Pelipper hadn’t grabbed him at the last second, he’d be dead. Add pirates on the sea—his parents had died to pirates. He hated them, but hate without strength was just wishful thinking.

”I get it. I’ll head back and tell Grandpa I’m safe,” Shun said softly. ”When I’m strong enough, I’ll start my own journey.”

”Good.” Reiji tossed another dry branch on the fire. ”Right now you’re not ready. I’m not your bodyguard. Train first. Travel later.”

He nodded toward Shun. ”You saw what happened when the captain showed up. One Golduck pinning three trainers like bugs. If you hit a real wall, dodge it. If you can’t, swallow your pride. Staying alive comes first.”

”I know,” Shun said, thinking of how those three had chased them all over the dance hall—then froze the second Golduck used Confusion. Even without that, five or six sailors dogpiling them would’ve been enough.

”How do you beat strong Psychic-types?” Shun asked.

”Dark-types. Or anything that naturally checks Psychic—at equal strength,” Reiji said. ”Too weak, and it doesn’t matter.” He’d been turning that over himself. Relying on Ditto’s Protect wasn’t a plan. He needed something that could stick to his shadow.

”If I had to choose,” he went on, ”I’d love a Gengar. A real ’purple chonk’ that hides in your shadow and watches your back. But Ghosts are a pain—rare, picky eaters, and if you can’t feed them right, they’ll drain you dry. Dark-types like Umbreon, Weavile, Houndoom, Sharpedo—that’s more practical.”

He waved a hand. ”Sure, I like Zoroark, Darkrai, Absol, Hydreigon, Tyranitar—who doesn’t? But legendaries, pseudos, mythical stuff… nice on posters. Not so easy in real life. Finding a Gengar is already more realistic than pulling a pseudo out of thin air.”

Shun flipped through his field guide. ”There are so many Dark-types. Which should I catch?”

”Whichever you like,” Reiji said. ”It’s your team. Your taste, your grind.”

Shun paused on a page. ”Tyranitar… wow.” He shook his head a moment later. ”Yeah, no. Not now.”

While Shun browsed, Reiji unfolded a map of the Orange Archipelago, trying to remember where he’d seen Ghosts before. Lavender Town in Kanto was easy—Ghosts everywhere. On the Orange Islands? There was that haunted ship with a Gastly and a Haunter… but those had trainers—and centuries of age. Not something you just ’catch.’

He sighed. Without the right environment—graveyards, old tunnels, real haunted places—stumbling into a Gastly wasn’t likely on a random island.

Leaves rustled.

Something in the brush was pushing toward the firelight.

”Poliwhirl,” Shun’s partner and Reiji’s team lifted to attention. Reiji’s Poliwhirl hopped down from a tree and stepped in front of him. Kingler clacked its claws and hardened its carapace. Spinarak sprang to Reiji’s shoulder, ready to throw up Protect. Butterfree set down on the tent ridge, compound eyes locked on the dark.

Shun rose too. His Poliwhirl and Breloom flanked him.

”Reiji?” he whispered.

”Quiet.” Reiji’s eyes didn’t leave the brush. The whole forest was thick with Bugs—so many that even the tree beside their tent had several happily munching leaves. He was betting Bug-type, not Ghost.

The rustling grew closer, then parted—revealing a Pokémon drawn by the fire.

A head with three horned ridges. Forearms ending in gleaming scythes. Two small winglets it almost never used. Spike-lined thighs. Three-clawed feet. Smaller abdomen—male.

Scyther.

This one, though, carried a map of old battles across its hide—scars everywhere, a big X carved into its brow. On Scyther, scars weren’t shame. They were proof. The more the scars, the tougher the fighter.

The air rang as it scraped its blades together.

”Scy!” It raised its scythes toward the two trainers and threw down a challenge.

”Shun, it’s calling us out,” Reiji said, reading the posture.

Shun swallowed. The sound of those blades alone told him this Scyther hit hard. ”Reiji… do you want this one?”

”This island’s crawling with Bugs. Plenty of Scyther,” Reiji said. ”If you can catch it, do it. I’ll find another. For me, a Scyther’s frontline—if I take one, I want real ceiling, not just grit.”

Shun licked his lips and stepped forward with his Poliwhirl. ”Alright. I’ll try.”

(End of Chapter)

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