Pokémon: Master of the Rain Team

Reiji quietly returned to the hotel, shut the door, and let Spinarak jump down from his shoulder before setting down the two space backpacks on his back.

He didn't touch the poacher's pack just yet. Instead, he unzipped the newly bought one and laid out all the items on the bed.

First, the ID — 6000 Pokédollars, with 5000 still unpaid, which he'd settle at the tavern when passing through the black market later.

Hotel stay: 6000.

Incubator: 1000. He took the egg out of the foam box and placed it into the incubator. According to the instructions, he just had to set the right temperature. The incubator ran on batteries and would alert him when it needed recharging.

Space backpack: 16,000.

Anti-pierce fingerless gloves: 2500.

Lime Energy Cubes and Moomoo Milk: 2600.

Heal Ball, Dive Ball, and Nest Ball: 12,000.

And finally, the full set of anti-piercing gear: 63,000.

That was everything he'd spent since arriving on Kinnow Island.

The money he had left: 5600 from the poacher, 23,000 from the ambush, 21,000 from the brute, and 100,000 from the old man's "life-buying" offer.

A total of 149,600 — just shy of 150,000 PokéYen.

His total expenses over the past few days? 109,100 — nearly 110,000.

Remaining funds: 40,500.

Ten thousand gone just from walking around town. Training really was expensive.

No wonder the thresholds for becoming an Elite Trainer, Senior Trainer, Gym Leader, pseudo-Elite Four, or actual Elite Four member were so steep.

Especially the Elite Four mark — a wall that blocked out 90% of Trainers. Either you risked your life like a poacher, or you saved relentlessly, or you slogged through the League for years.

Or, you entered a regional tournament as a youth, won, and received a League starter as a reward.

But that kind of tournament had to have strict requirements — like being a certified rookie Trainer and passing a background check. Trainers with prior records weren't even allowed to enter.

The poacher had taken a one-way road. Though calling him pseudo-Elite Four was generous — that would imply Level 58 or 59. The guy had been around 53 or 54 at best.

Still, at that strength, joining the League and acquiring a starter shouldn't have been hard.

Unless... he had a criminal record. Not even certified. Couldn't get a starter through official means. Couldn't control stolen ones. Couldn't sell them either. And he didn't have the money to buy high-potential Pokémon.

Unless he tried robbing a lab directly... though if he'd gone that far, he wouldn't have lived to see the next day.

Reiji had always followed the law. Came from an ordinary family. No rich sponsors. It wasn't hard to become a certified rookie, but walking the path of a Trainer required capital. Serious capital.

Even just feeding Pokémon wasn't something a normal job could cover. Not to mention the League's free healthcare and accommodations for registered Trainers.

No wonder everyone wanted to get League-certified.

Most who got stuck probably did so due to lack of resources.

Without breaking the law, and without help from family or sponsors, there was no way to build an Elite-level team.

Just this brief glance at the market told Reiji everything. No one else could be unaware.

A regular rookie Trainer climbing step by step — at best, they'd hit pseudo-Elite Four.

And without cutting corners, ordinary people couldn't break past that barrier.

Despair would make some go mad. And those people? The League would crush them without mercy, down to the last speck.

Even a random shopkeeper had Gym Leader-level strength — maybe even pseudo-Elite Four — and had warned him not to get involved with high-grade Evolution Stones.

Sigh. Every time he thought about it, he realized just how deep the waters ran.

Becoming an Elite was just stepping through the door. Being a Senior Trainer meant you were cannon fodder. Pseudo-Elite Four? You were a high-tier goon.

Even after reincarnating, he was still just a mayfly flailing in the world. One wrong step, and he'd be finished.

In his frustration, he really wanted a cigarette. He felt like he was back in his previous life — crushed by fate, unable to afford a home, eventually giving up and choosing to lie flat and fish for the rest of his days.

But here, after leaving the island, reality had smacked him again. Even if he wanted to lie flat, it wasn't an option — not until he at least became an Elite Four-level Trainer.

The poacher was proof. Trying to leap from pseudo-Elite to full Elite had cost him his life.

Reiji had been reckless back then. If he hadn't stacked debuffs and ambushed the poacher, he'd be the one dead now.

Luckily, the guy had been watching for Pidgeot and hadn't noticed him in the shadows. That's the only reason his ambush worked.

No more risks. Not now.

Now that he understood the cost of high-potential Pokémon, he wondered how much adult Pokémon went for. Selling them to breeding centers might bring in a good price.

As for black-market breeders, who knew if they were the same ones from the department store. He'd need to tread carefully.

Once he revealed a pseudo-Elite-level Pokémon, he'd need to offload it quickly. Early on, he could bluff people with it, but if someone saw through him and realized he was just a lucky newbie, he'd be hunted for sure.

"Yito-yito," Spinarak chirped, seeing Reiji zoning out with gear in his hands. It sounded concerned.

"I'm fine," Reiji said, finally setting down the 40,000 he had left. The sheer gap between himself and the goal had left him momentarily dazed.

But he also needed to think about how to hide his identity and offload these items.

He wouldn't need to hide at first — no one dared pick a fight with a pseudo-Elite Four Trainer.

But after the goods were sold — that's when his identity needed to vanish. He began sketching out a plan in his head.

Once the disguise plan was in place, his mind finally cleared. He had almost been scared off by how steep the path ahead was.

But whatever. He'd go as far as he could. His life was still the most important thing. He'd always been a survival-minded fishing guy.

Back to business.

He opened the poacher's backpack and began transferring selected items into his new one.

He kept the five Pokémon from the poacher and the Mankey from the brute. He'd deal with them later.

Food? Packed up. There wasn't much left.

Spare Poké Balls — and the dumb Magikarp — also moved over.

The poacher's clothes? He'd wear them to the black market. After that, he'd burn them. Leaving them around was risky — they could be used to trace his identity.

He thoroughly checked all of the poacher's outdoor gear — healing sprays, bug repellents, lighters, maps, folding tables and chairs. Nothing suspicious. He wiped them clean with hotel towels and packed them.

Sleeping bag? He'd burn it.

Pots, pans, dishes — already dumped into the ocean, except for one pot. He'd toss that too and buy new.

He only kept the Mystic Water. He'd sell the Magnet later. Elite-tier items like those should bring in 2 to 3 million at least. The department store prices seemed inflated, but Electric-type items like Magnets were still valuable.

The two breeding books? Total junk. The side effects were too severe — worthless on the black market. Only books without side effects had real value.

As for the materials the Pokémon had gifted him — berries, honey, sap — he'd throw them in too. Most of the berries were already eaten. Just a bit of honey and sweet sap remained.

After a long round of sorting, he had his sell pile:

A 100-cubic-meter backpack.

Six Pokémon — Golbat, Gyarados, Electabuzz, Electrode, Magneton, Mankey.

Items: Magnet, assorted materials, some dark sticky substance (likely Black Sludge), a pair of venomous fangs — probably Poison-type crafting materials.

Given the strength of Gloom and Arbok on the island, anything crafted from these would be rookie-grade. Worth very little.

And the two books? Who'd buy that crap? One damaged Electric-types, the other got you flattened by Gyarados. Useless.

He loaded everything he planned to sell into the poacher's backpack — he'd scout prices first before actually dealing.

Then he packed the items from the department store: ID, incubator, shorts and t-shirt.

The gloves and anti-piercing clothes? Stashed back into his space pack. He'd wear the poacher's gear one last time, then burn it after the black market visit. Tomorrow, he'd switch to the anti-piercing outfit.

All that was left on the bed were the Lime Energy Cubes and the Moomoo and regular milk.

Three Poké Balls too — Heal Ball, Dive Ball, and Nest Ball.

Reiji grabbed them and released Poliwhirl and Butterfree.

Poof! Poof!

"Fwee-ee!" Butterfree fluttered over immediately, nuzzling against him.

"Yoboh, yoboh?" Poliwhirl, back in the hotel room, plopped onto the carpet and began resting.

"Been a hectic few days," Reiji said, rubbing Butterfree's head. "You two have been stuck in your Poké Balls. Not too bored, I hope?"

"Fwee-ee," Butterfree shook its head. It didn't blame Reiji for keeping it inside. Between the three, Spinarak was clearly the best suited for protection — small, agile, and stealthy.

"I brought something tasty back for you all — try it and let me know what you think," Reiji said, pouring out six bowls of milk — three Moomoo, three regular.

He set two in front of each Pokémon. Time for a taste test.

These bowls had belonged to the poacher's Pokémon. Reiji would toss them later and buy new ones.

"Yoboh, what is this? Smells amazing," Poliwhirl said, sniffing the milk. The rich, sweet aroma hit it instantly — it already felt delicious.

"Fwee-ee?" Butterfree also dipped low and sniffed. Then turned to Spinarak. Since it had stayed with Reiji, maybe it knew what this was.

"Yito-yito," Spinarak shook its head. No clue. It was still thinking about those tempting Lime Energy Cubes from earlier.

"Alright, enough chatter," Reiji interrupted before they went off on a tangent again. "Let's taste test. Poliwhirl, you first."

"Yoboh." Poliwhirl picked up the regular milk and drank.

Gulp gulp gulp—

Not bad. Sweet, rich, fragrant. Tasted good.

"Now try this one," Reiji said, nudging over the Moomoo milk.

"Yoboh—gulp." Poliwhirl downed the second bowl. Half a pound of milk wasn't much — just enough to quench thirst.

But after the Moomoo milk?

"Yoboh! Yoboh!" Poliwhirl cried out, full of energy.

That one was way better. It filled its whole body with warmth, all the way down to its belly. The warmth lingered, clearing its fatigue. It even wanted to go run laps right now.

[End of Chapter]

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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