On the east coast of Rind Island, a wooden boat sat at anchor—the poaching gang's boat. The fleeing underboss had been carried back here by his Tentacruel.
When he made his escape, the underboss had been smart. He jumped straight into the river and let Tentacruel take him downstream, out to sea, and back to the boat. That was the only reason he was still alive.
"Ali, what happened?" the boss snapped. "Weren't you supposed to grab that brat? Why do you look like this?"
The moment the underboss returned, he went straight to the captain's cabin to report. The boss frowned the instant he saw him, irritated that his favorite Ursaring rug had been dirtied. Useless trash—every last one of them.
"Boss… everything was going fine. We were just about to catch him when a really strong Trainer showed up. One round. That was all it took for him to wipe out the five of us…"
The underboss lay flat on the rug, not daring to look up. He knew the boss's temper—famous for it. When he got mad, he didn't talk. He hit.
"One encounter and you all went down?" The boss looked him over again. With how wrecked he was, it didn't look like he was lying.
"Yes, Boss. I lost three Pokémon. I only have my Tentacruel left. Of the five men I brought, only two made it back… and there's one more outside."
Afraid the boss still didn't believe him, the underboss lifted a shaking hand and pointed at the door, desperate to prove it.
"Let him in." The boss waved.
The cabin door opened, and another battered gang member slipped inside. He didn't say a word at first—just dropped to the rug the same way.
"Boss… what Ali said is true," the man said quickly. "I only made it back with my Carvanha. The moment we met him, his four Pokémon beat us down."
"Four?" The boss licked his lips without thinking. Four Pokémon strong enough to crush his crew? That was… tempting.
If the chance came up, maybe he could set a trap and take them for himself.
"Which four?" he asked.
"Boss, it was… a Poliwhirl, a Scyther, a Kingler, and a Rhyhorn…"
"That's it?" The boss's face shifted. Those were ordinary Pokémon. The rarest of the bunch were Scyther and Rhyhorn—worth a few million at most.
And yet those "ordinary" Pokémon had flattened five of his men in an instant. The boss's suspicion crept back in.
He didn't even bother catching common trash like that. His own lineup was Psychic-type Pokémon like Exeggutor and Starmie, plus Dragon-types like Flygon and Seadra(it will be dragon), and Water-types like Sharpedo and Gyarados.
Only strong Pokémon matched his status. What was that kid even using—Poliwhirl and Kingler? Those were food to him. Pokémon like that weren't worth catching, and they definitely weren't supposed to be that strong. He didn't buy it.
Right now, he was only missing one Dragon Scale to evolve his Seadra. He'd heard Kingdra also had the Dragon type. True or not, Dragon-type Pokémon were always monsters.
Still… the kid had crushed five of his men, including an underboss at Advanced tier. That wasn't some random newbie. At minimum, the other side was an Advanced Trainer.
He wasn't scared of an Advanced Trainer's strength. The problem was why he was here in the first place—money. That was how he'd gotten his rare Pokémon.
He needed cash to buy a Dragon Scale so Seadra could evolve. He couldn't afford the expensive ones, but he could scrape together enough for a cheaper one. As long as Seadra evolved, that was good enough.
Even so, he didn't want to pick a fight with an Advanced Trainer from the League. It wasn't fear of losing—it was fear they'd call backup.
League Trainers always had connections. If that kid ran and reported it, what if the League sent real hitters to wipe him out?
He'd only just built this poaching gang into a money-making tool. Sure, the men were mostly garbage, but they were still useful. Losing the whole operation would be a waste.
But a gang was just a tool. It wasn't more important than his life or his future. As long as he stayed alive, he could rebuild whenever he wanted.
And this time, luck had finally swung his way—he'd caught a truly valuable "piece of cargo." He'd already found a buyer. This deal couldn't go wrong, not when that big-shot was sure to love it. After all, that big-shot's organization was already making moves in the Orange Archipelago.
If the trade went through, he might even get to join them—start as a squad leader, maybe. His underbosses could be the first batch of people he brought along, the foundation of his new status.
Until he joined, he was going to avoid every unnecessary accident with everything he had. He wasn't about to let his men's stupidity ruin his future.
Whether the underboss was telling the truth or not, he would treat it as truth. That boy, that old man, and that League Trainer—he wasn't going to touch any of them. He'd even steer clear of wherever they were active.
As for the kid who escaped… he was just some ordinary boy. The boss had planned to train him into a sailor. Instead, the little rat had lied, pretended to do chores on the boat, and used it as cover to run.
Fine. Let him run. With or without that boy, the result was the same. Worthless either way.
As long as the valuable hostage in his hands didn't slip away, getting a Dragon Scale wouldn't be hard. That hostage was worth far more than the runaway kid.
"Enough. Get out," the boss said. "From now on, stay away from wherever that Trainer is. Don't provoke him. We catch our wild Pokémon, they do their thing. As for the Pokémon you lost—go to the warehouse and claim replacements yourselves."
"Yes, Boss." The underboss had been bracing for punishment. When the boss dismissed it so easily, the tension finally drained out of him. He'd escaped this one.
After the two men left the cabin, the boss turned to the window. Moonlight washed over the sea—and over Rind Island.
No more surprises. That was all he wanted. Once they grabbed enough valuable wild Pokémon here, they'd leave Rind Island and hand this batch of goods over to that organization.
With the hostage as his entry ticket, he'd get in. With his own strength, he'd start as a squad leader. A few years later, maybe he'd rise in rank and finally live the good life.
What he didn't notice was the shadow listening in on every word. When the conversation ended, it slipped away without a sound, and no one noticed a thing.
…
By the waterfall at the lower reaches of the River, Reiji's campsite sat quiet in the dark. Tonight, he wasn't sleeping early.
After scattering the human traffickers, he'd left a few alive. He'd also had Darkrai trail them in secret. It wouldn't be long before Darkrai brought back what he needed.
"You were right," Darkrai said inside Reiji's mind when it returned. "The captain on that boat doesn't want to pursue this."
After spending so long with Reiji, Darkrai had learned something: Reiji understood people frighteningly well. Most of what he predicted came true. This trip had only confirmed it—Darkrai could read it clearly on the boss's face. He wanted the matter buried.
"It was just an ordinary kid," Reiji said. "Not worth much."
Reiji knew plenty of underground groups raised orphans—or bought children from traffickers—to shape them into loyal tools. Kids weren't fully formed yet. With a little brainwashing, you could mass-produce fanatics. That was how a lot of those organizations got started.
Which was exactly why he'd said it before: if you stayed in the dark, you stayed a rat. Rats couldn't fight the League. Rats never stepped into the light. Rats stayed beneath everyone forever.
Unless he had absolutely no choice, he wasn't going to reject the League and join some underground outfit instead. Anyone who did that had something wrong with their head.
"There's another child on that boat," Darkrai added, watching Reiji return to his tent. Through the gap in the flap, it looked toward Quincy inside, caring for the rescued boy. "Do you want to save him too?"
"Let me think," Reiji said, and he didn't even need to.
That was Officer Jenny's job. He still wasn't even a League-certified Trainer. He had no obligation to fight poachers or enforce the law.
He'd saved this kid because he had no way to back down in the moment. The traffickers had come in hard. If he'd yielded, they would've pushed further.
He didn't like poaching, sure, but he wasn't some hot-blooded hero who charged in just because something was wrong.
As long as the traffickers didn't come looking for trouble again, he could just call Naoki and have Naoki notify Officer Jenny. League-certified or not, that was still a citizen's duty.
Unless…
"I also saw that they have a lot of money…" Darkrai's words landed like a hook.
That was one of the reasons Reiji had sent it over in the first place.
First: find out whether the poaching gang planned to make another move.
Second: check how many members were on the boat, how strong they were, and how strong the captain was.
Third: see how much wealth they were sitting on. If they were broke, he'd call Officer Jenny. If they were rich… they could quietly take a cut.
"Go back and get numbers," Reiji said. "How many are on the boat? What's their level? How strong is the captain? Then we decide whether we wipe them out."
He'd been ready to sleep. Now he wasn't.
He needed money. Everyone knew it. If the poaching gang was loaded, he wasn't calling Officer Jenny. He'd take it all and use it to raise his Pokémon.
That was what it meant to be a grassroots Trainer. When times were rough, you didn't get to think politely. You thought effectively.
If he'd been born with a silver spoon—if his dad was League brass—none of this would matter. A second-generation Trainer could pick up a starter like it was nothing.
Getting League certification would be easy. With family resources, even climbing to the Elite Four tier wasn't impossible.
You could stack power with resources, and with a careful mind like his, reaching Elite Four tier wouldn't be hard.
Instead, here he was grinding like hell, picking up side money, and still coming up short on Pokémon expenses.
That was why he wanted to build a force of his own. Let his people develop on their own. When they made money, he took a cut. No need to micromanage endless nonsense. Why wouldn't he?
With Darkrai watching the poaching gang, Reiji finally fell asleep. Other Pokémon stood guard, and since the gang wasn't planning to pursue anything, a surprise attack wasn't likely.
Quincy and the boy didn't know that. They spent the entire night on edge, and at some point, the boy finally woke up.
"Uh… where am I?" the boy murmured as his eyes opened. The first person he saw was Quincy—the man he'd met by the river.
"You're safe, child," Quincy said, moving quickly. "Don't worry. The poaching gang was driven off."
He brought over a bowl of warm milk and let the boy drink slowly.
The sweetness soothed his throat. With the milk warming him from the inside, his voice stopped scratching so badly.
"Grandpa… did you save me?"
"No," Quincy said. "A Trainer camping here saved us. He beat those poachers."
He explained what had happened after they met the boy.
Listening to it, the boy's eyes widened. When Quincy said Reiji had beaten the men who grabbed him in an instant, the boy couldn't stop himself.
"That's amazing…"
"It is," Quincy agreed. "He's very strong."
Even now, Quincy remembered the scene clearly. It wasn't that the poachers were competent or incompetent—Reiji was simply too strong. They hadn't even been able to fight back.
"Since you're awake, there's bread and milk here," Quincy said. "Eat, then rest. You'll be fine here. The poachers won't dare come back. Tomorrow, I'll contact Officer Jenny and have her take you home."
Quincy wasn't fully sure they wouldn't return, but Reiji's strength gave him something he hadn't had earlier—breathing room. It still felt safer than his own cabin.
"Grandpa… I don't want to go back." The moment he heard "go home," the boy's eyes hardened with unwillingness. His Pokémon partner was gone. Those men had killed it. How could he just go back like that? He wanted revenge.
"Why?" Quincy asked, turning to look at him. Going back to a big city meant safety. Why refuse? If it weren't for Magikarp's migration season, Quincy would've left long ago.
"My Pokémon partner… they killed it." The boy's voice broke, and big tears spilled down, soaking the bread in his hands.
"Let Officer Jenny punish them," Quincy said with a sigh. "Don't throw your life away. You can't beat them."
A Trainer losing a Pokémon wasn't rare. Tonight alone, several had died.
Even if they were the poachers' Pokémon, they were still Pokémon. Pokémon didn't understand good and evil—they followed their Trainer's will. A good Trainer led them to do good. A bad Trainer led them to do bad.
Quincy didn't blame Reiji. At his age, he wasn't about to play saint. He only mourned the Pokémon that had followed the wrong Trainer, because with a poaching gang, this kind of ending was always waiting.
"Get some sleep," Quincy said softly. "I can't help you with this. Maybe the one next door—Rai—can. Tomorrow, I can ask him for you."
"The Trainer next door?" The boy's head lifted, hope rising in him again.
If that Trainer could beat the poachers so easily, then he had to be powerful. Powerful enough to take revenge.
He wouldn't let those poachers off the hook.
[End of chapter]
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