"Looks like we arrived quite early."
Yamamino and Kashiwagi took their seats at the locations specified on their invitations and began flipping through the brochures placed on the table.
The brochure listed the Pokémon and other items featured in today's auction—interestingly, Pokémon only made up a fraction of the list; the rest was a collection of bizarre memorabilia.
There were signed photos and clothing from certain Champions, Pokémon cultivation journals from top-tier trainers, "Contest Secrets" from world-class Coordinators, and even introductory invitations from top-tier Breeders. Beyond those, there were various jewels and antiques from other regions.
"Is there no theme to this auction?" Kashiwagi asked, puzzled. Usually, auctions were themed—either exclusively Pokémon or strictly jewelry and art. Here, everything was tossed together.
"A theme? Of course there is." Yamamino chuckled, pointing at the items in the manual. "Nine out of ten things on this list are illicit. Whether it's the Pokémon or the antiques, they were either stolen or pillaged. This auction is essentially a 'fencing' operation for thieves and bandits to liquidate their loot."
Kashiwagi froze, looking at Yamamino with a mix of shock and uncertainty.
Yamamino acted as if he hadn't noticed Kashiwagi's pale face and continued: "The Underdome is 'wonderful,' isn't it? It gathers all the filth and sin in one place, hiding it from the eyes of the outside world where no one can regulate it. Some businessmen and politicians who can't show their faces use 'white gloves' (proxies) to buy what they want here. Even if the proxy is caught, the real buyers just have to prove they acted in 'good faith' and claim they were unaware of the crime to remain beyond the reach of the law."
"But that trick can't work every time, can it?" Kashiwagi spoke up. "Unless someone is intentionally letting them off the hook."
Yamamino glanced at him. "Exactly. But people who have lived in high positions for too long get used to flattery and subordinates who play dumb. They start thinking everyone is a fool. They walk on clouds and think of themselves as gods, as if they are a different species from the people around them. People like that... heh."
The cold laugh left Kashiwagi in deep thought. He felt Yamamino was speaking with an ulterior motive, perhaps even testing him.
At the end of the day, if Yamamino knows this is all stolen property, why would he bring me here to buy a Pokémon?
His excitement cooled slightly. He looked back at the Pokémon listed in the manual, lost in contemplation.
Before he could ask anything else, Yamamino spoke: "If you're not interested in the items here, we can leave before it starts. It doesn't matter."
"Huh? Is that okay?"
"Of course. I only came to show my face and prove I was here—just giving someone a bit of 'face.'"
"...Then let's go," Kashiwagi said with a touch of regret. Although the items were tempting, he had no desire to deal with Pokémon of unknown and likely tragic origins.
Just as he was about to stand up, however...
"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom first."
Yamamino rose slowly, gave a polite smile, and walked out of the hall with his Alakazam.
Kashiwagi watched his back, slightly surprised that Yamamino took his Pokémon to the bathroom. He looked around and decided against following. While "group bathroom trips" were common in his previous life's school days, he wasn't close enough to Yamamino to be that intrusive.
"Stolen goods, huh..."
With nothing to do, he looked at the manual again.
The Pokémon listed were ranked like purebred dogs or cats—marketing their appearance, lineage, and pedigree above their actual combat level or potential. For instance, one Miltank was advertised as being from the same mother as the Miltank owned by Whitney, the Goldenrod City Gym Leader. There were descendants of Elite Four Pokémon, and offspring of "Top Trainers" Kashiwagi didn't even recognize but were apparently famous.
Setting aside the authenticity of these claims, the photos showed Pokémon that looked exceptionally well-groomed. They were a far cry from the depressed, messy Chansey he had found in a rusty iron cage.
Among them, he identified three potential candidates that his "clue" might be pointing toward:
- Deino: A wholesale lot of six, reportedly from the "Village of Dragons" in Unova (Iris's hometown).
- Duraludon: Claimed to be bred by Raihan, the Hammerlocke Gym Leader of Galar, sharing a bloodline with his own.
- Jangmo-o: Three adorable hatchlings, descendants of a Totem Kommo-o from the Alola region.
The prices were staggering. The six Deino started at 20 million, the Duraludon at 15 million, and the Jangmo-o started at 30 million!
The marketing was absurd. Why was the Jangmo-o so expensive? Because the brochure claimed they had a chance to grow to "Totem-like sizes" and might even manifest a Totem Aura.
Dream on, Kashiwagi thought. Total false advertising.
Totem Auras weren't hereditary. Kashiwagi knew it was nonsense, but the real question was: which one did the clue point to? Or was it none of them?
Knowing their origins were dirty, his desire to buy them vanished. He'd rather find a legitimate shop; while Orre was full of black markets, there were still plenty of legally imported Pokémon.
"Forget it."
Kashiwagi shook his head and stood up to head to the restroom himself. Yamamino had been gone for ten minutes. If he hadn't ditched him, he was likely making a deal or talking to someone important.
----
Following the waiter's directions, Kashiwagi reached the restroom.
He didn't run into Yamamino along the way. The stalls were mostly open and empty.
Did he leave? Kashiwagi didn't think Yamamino was the type to abandon him without a word.
He quickly finished his business. While washing his hands, a man wearing a headband and a sand-mask covering the lower half of his face approached. He turned on the faucet and whispered something cryptic.
"Meteor Falls? Blackthorn City? Celestic Town?"
"Uh..."
"I don't care where you're from, get out of here as fast as you can," the man hissed. "If things go south, I can't guarantee your safety. And hide that plaque—don't flash it so blatantly."
Kashiwagi didn't respond, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man staring intensely at the wooden plaque on his waist. His heart skipped a beat; the clue he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Unexpectedly, the man turned to walk away after speaking.
Kashiwagi hesitated for a second, then gripped a Poké Ball in his hand and hurried after him. After just a few steps, he caught the man's attention again.
"Tch! You brat, why won't you listen?"
The man rubbed his head in frustration, strode back, and grabbed Kashiwagi's arm. "Follow me. This isn't the place to talk."
Kashiwagi allowed himself to be led, using the opportunity to observe the man. Though his face was masked, his voice, build, and skin suggested he wasn't old—likely in his early twenties.
When they reached a secluded corner, the man pulled down his mask.
His appearance confirmed Kashiwagi's guess.
"Where did you hear the news? Was it a coincidence? I'm telling you, the people here are dangerous. They aren't like the thugs we usually run into who might hold back. People actually die here!" the man said earnestly.
Kashiwagi looked at his anxious face, thought for a few seconds, and said, "I think you've misunderstood something."
"Huh?" The man's brow furrowed deeply. "Misunderstood? Don't tell me you don't know what they're selling in there."
"I'm not talking about that. I mean, you've mistaken me for someone else. Unfortunately, I'm a lifelong resident of Pyrite Town."
Kashiwagi shook his head.
The man's expression changed instantly. He reached out and grabbed the plaque on Kashiwagi's waist. "Then where did you get this!?"