Croagunk chewed the Pokéblock in silence. Its face looked blank, but its thoughts were busy.

In short, it didn’t rate this new trainer. Sooner or later, he’d sell it off like the others. Croagunk was used to being sold. It had learned to meet everything with a cold mask, because any emotion it showed only got swallowed by the next black hole—hope in, nothing out.

A cold face was both cover and armor.

Reiji didn’t know how far Croagunk’s thoughts had run. He also wasn’t sure how well it understood human speech—probably enough. When he held a spoon of Moomoo Milk to its mouth, Croagunk opened up and drank. Obedient. Just… no reaction at all. Good or bad, its face didn’t change.

Maybe that was just the poisoning numbing its expression. If so, that was a small problem. A calm mask bluffed people anyway; no one could read what was behind it.

After the milk, Reiji set a glass jar in front of it. “Croagunk, your toxin is too strong. It’s poisoning you. Purge everything you can. Fill this jar—drain as much as possible to lower the concentration in your body.”

“Guu… guu.” It didn’t fully get it, but it did as told. It dipped both fingers into the jar and bled the cheek-sacs. Black-violet drops seeped from its fingertips and fell into the glass.

With each drip, its body eased. A weight came off. It had never felt this light.

Its previous trainers only talked about power and winning. None of them had told it to purge. None of them had noticed that purging made it feel… okay.

So this trainer was different. Croagunk noted it—but the mask didn’t change. It wouldn’t trust. Not again.

After a while there was “about a mouthful” in the jar—just a figure of speech.

(He wasn’t going to drink it. Relax.)

Reiji knew diluted toxin could be used in medicine—sold, even. Croagunk wasn’t just a fighter; it could pay its way. What on earth had that masked peddler been thinking, selling off a money-maker like this?

He sealed the jar and put it in the fridge. He didn’t return Croagunk to a Heal Ball. Instead he set it on a soft mat in the yard to watch the sunset and the others playing in the pool, let the sea breeze wash over it.

When night fell, he recalled everyone—except Pelipper on his shoulder. Battle balls clipped to his belt, ready.

“Shun, I’m flying out to pick up Kingler. Wait for me here. After I’m back, we scout that villa. Do not go alone. If they spot you, you die.”

Shun nodded hard. “Got it, Reiji-nii. But you have to take me. Don’t ditch me.”

Reiji swung onto Pelipper. “I won’t leave you. Promise.” He lifted off toward Coconut Tree Beach.

He understood Shun’s nerves. Easy enough to read. He wasn’t planning to leave him anyway.

At the beach he met Muta, took Kingler back, and flew toward the villa Shun had marked—just to recon from the air. No landing.

From Pelipper’s back he used the poacher’s binoculars. Several lit houses along the shore; then the right one—he saw the masked courier and the greasy lackey in the courtyard.

They were throwing a party—food, booze, hostesses, colored lights. Loud and gaudy.

One look was enough. He holstered the binoculars. Fine—loud targets are easy to hit. He had a night plan already. Back to the villa first.

Five or six kilometers of coastline lay between them. The waves would help mask noise when it started.

Shun was pacing in the yard. When Reiji landed, his shoulders dropped in relief.

“When do we move?” Shun asked.

“Not yet. They’re drinking. We go at two.” Reiji let everyone out to rest—then outlined who’d fight and who wouldn’t.

Fighting team: Poliwhirl, Kingler, Rhyhorn, Butterfree, Pelipper.

Onlookers/utility only: Farfetch’d, Ditto, Croagunk, Spinarak.

—Ditto would handle disguises.

—Spinarak guarded Reiji and only struck if needed.

—Croagunk stayed close to observe and acclimate.

—Farfetch’d depended on its mood.

Shun could set his own lineup. “We hit at two. Don’t choke.”

He set an alarm and grabbed a short nap.

At two a.m., the alarm pulsed. Reiji opened his eyes. Shun and the Pokémon were staring at him. He rubbed out some eye gunk. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, Reiji-nii. We were just waiting,” Shun said, a little embarrassed.

“You didn’t sleep?” Reiji shrugged on his anti-stab jacket and gloves. Shun zipped into his own black set. Balls clicked home on both their belts.

Reiji kept Pelipper out—and Ditto.

“Ditto, mask my face. Give me a stranger’s face. You’ve seen a lot of faces, right?”

“Ditto, ditto.” It leapt to his cheeks and flowed into a perfect… oval female face.

Reiji frowned (the mirror didn’t show it). “Male. And sync my expressions.”

Ditto swapped to a middle-aged guy. Good enough for tonight. Reiji ran through eyebrow raises and jaw shifts, forcing Ditto to match him in real time.

Halfway through, Ditto popped back to goo.

Reiji’s boot came down, pinning it. Shun froze. His own Ditto shrank into his collar. Pelipper didn’t blink—on the island it had seen this man be warm and strict in turns. Spinarak knew the routine: a slap, then a candy.

“Ditto,” Reiji’s voice went flat, “you don’t break disguise without my order. Your job is critical. Do it again and it won’t be just a stomp. Understand?”

“Di—ditto!” It trembled and nodded.

“Back to the last face.”

It climbed up and re-formed, then pushed through the discomfort to keep pace with Reiji’s expressions. That was the standard. A disguise that shatters under pain or fear is no disguise.

He needed a Ditto with a hard spine—one that wouldn’t break even if it burned.

When the sync looked decent, Reiji turned to Shun. “You going like that?”

“Right!” Shun gestured; his Ditto, scared stiff by what it had just seen, sprang to his face and formed a random young man.

“Train expression sync soon,” Reiji said, patting Shun’s shoulder. He mounted Pelipper, which gripped Shun by the shoulders, and they lifted into the night.

They touched down on a small dune five or six kilometers out—good sightline into the villa’s yard. Through the glass, the party still raged. Hours passed. The noise thinned.

“Not yet,” Reiji murmured. “Wait for them to sleep.”

Shun peeked once through the binoculars, went red, put them down, and lay back to stare at the stars.

Two more hours. The villa finally quieted.

Time to move.

[End of Chapter]

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