On the seventh day of the trip, it was drizzling.

Reiji pulled open the curtains and saw the fine rain outside. It felt like ages since he’d seen rain; the last time was when they’d sailed away from Kinnow Island.

That morning, after he and the Pokémon finished a simple breakfast and packed up their things, it was time to see Shun off. Shun would be taking a mid-sized passenger ship back to Kinnow Island, a two-day voyage.

When they reached the harbor, the air was thick with the salty smell of the sea. Everything was damp, puddles mottled the ground, and the wind carried the chill of spray. The pier where passengers boarded was crowded and noisy.

It really wasn’t a good day for traveling. The gloomy sky, the steady drizzle, the lack of sunlight… all of it felt like it was echoing Shun’s mood as they were about to part.

The passenger ship’s horn bellowed.

Hearing it, Reiji saw the gangway already laid out from the pier up to the mid-sized ship, and raised a hand to clap Shun lightly on the shoulder. “Shun, the ship’s about to leave.”

“Reiji-nii, I…” Shun still wanted to say something, but Reiji reached up and tugged the brim of his cap down, covering his eyes.

“Save it for next time,” Reiji said, straightening Shun’s collar. “I’ll be waiting for you at the regional conference.”

“Then I’m going.” Shun ended up not saying anything else. He turned away, wiped at his eyes, and climbed the gangway with his Poliwhirl.

When Shun stood at the rail and waved goodbye, Reiji raised his hand and waved back, watching until the passenger ship’s engines rumbled to life and it slowly pulled away from the pier.

The ship grew smaller and smaller in the drizzle. A thick mist rolled over the sea, and its silhouette soon vanished into the fog. Reiji stood under the eaves, slipped on his raincoat, and turned his back on the harbor.

He could only hope Shun reached Kinnow Island safely and got to that old fox in one piece. To be on the safe side, he found a public phone and dialed the number of the old man at the sailors’ bar.

Once the call connected, Reiji said, “Old man, your grandson’s already on board. You should know what schedule that ferry runs.”

“I know. I’ll have someone I trust keep an eye on that little brat. You’ve had your hands full with him this whole time. Drop by when you’ve got time—drink whatever you want, on the house…”

“Old man, you do remember I’m fifteen, right? Careful, or I’ll report you for selling fake booze to a minor,” Reiji said, speechless. Why did this miserly geezer always try to pay him back in alcohol? Maybe that was the only thing he was generous with.

“Hahaha, you, a minor…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got things to do,” Reiji cut him off before he had to listen to that laugh, and hung up. Then he headed for a nearby department store to buy Life Pokéblocks and get Gastly’s evolution experiment started.

Back on Kinnow Island, in the sailors’ bar, the old man stared at the dead line and chuckled helplessly before dialing again—this time calling an old friend.

He asked that friend to watch over his grandson on the ship, to step in if anything really went wrong and otherwise just let the kid be. It wasn’t a big favor, but it was still a favor being handed to him on a platter, so the old friend agreed at once.

Reiji left the harbor and soon found the department store. It was a landmark building; hard to miss.

As for the black market, he wasn’t going. He didn’t know the city, and heading into the underground just to buy a bit of stuff was practically inviting some thug to target him. Then you had to worry about getting robbed, robbing them back, and the whole “black eats black” mess. Too much hassle.

He could just buy Life Pokéblocks through regular stores. Even if it cost more, at least there was no real risk and the quality was guaranteed.

Before going in, he had Ditto shift into a disguise. When he stepped into the Pokémon food shop, a saleswoman in black stockings came over with a professional smile. Reiji got straight to the point. “Do you have Life Pokéblocks?”

“Yes, sir. Our Life Pokéblocks are divided into—”

“I want premium.” Reiji couldn’t be bothered with her spiel and stated his demand directly.

“Of course, sir. Please come this way. This whole shelf is premium Life Pokéblocks.” She led him over and gestured toward a rack stacked top to bottom with boxes, both premium and standard.

“How much per box?” Reiji picked one up. The packaging was similar to what he’d bought on Murcott Island: ten pieces per box, with almost no impurities. Of the ten boxes he bought last time, Gastly had only eaten five pieces.

“Sir, our premium Life Pokéblocks are seven thousand Pokédollars a box. If you buy in bulk, we can offer a five-percent discount…”

“What counts as ‘bulk’?” Reiji asked.

“One hundred boxes, sir.” She held up one finger to indicate the number.

“Add a zero. Then can you give me thirty percent off?” Reiji held up one finger of his own. He wanted a thousand boxes.

“Sir, you mean… one thousand?” she asked carefully, almost afraid she’d misheard.

“That’s right.” Reiji nodded. One thousand boxes. Life Pokéblocks here were a thousand cheaper than on Murcott Island; if he could get a discount on top of that, a thousand boxes wasn’t that outrageous.

“Cough… Sir, I can’t make that kind of decision for one thousand boxes. I’d like to confirm again: you really plan to buy a thousand boxes?” She pressed a hand over her chest as if to hold her heart steady and asked him seriously a second time.

“That depends on how sincere your store is,” Reiji said, kicking the ball back to her. If the discount wasn’t good, he’d just buy less.

“Please wait a moment, sir. I’ll inform my manager.”

She was afraid he’d walk out, so she asked a colleague to stay nearby and keep an eye on him while she hurried off to find the manager.

When she came back, she had a big-bellied man with slicked-back hair in tow. Under the lights his oiled hair gleamed, making him look about as greasy as his smile.

“Sir, I hear you’re interested in buying one thousand boxes of Life Pokéblocks?” the greasy manager said, reaching out for a handshake.

Reiji didn’t take it. The guy had just been raking his fingers through his hair—no way Reiji was touching that. Why were there so many fat guys in this line of work anyway? Too much oil, maybe.

Seeing that Reiji wouldn’t shak, the manager awkwardly pulled his hand back. His professional training wouldn’t let him lose his temper, so the fake smile stayed plastered on his face while he waited for Reiji’s answer.

“That depends on your sincerity,” Reiji said again, kicking the ball right back.

“Sir, I can authorize a fifteen-percent discount. How does that sound?” the greasy manager said. The saleswoman had already told him Reiji wanted thirty percent, so he staked out his bottom line.

“Then forget it. I’ll check a few other places,” Reiji said, letting disappointment show on his face as he turned to go. This wasn’t the only shop selling Pokéblocks; he could always compare prices.

“Please wait, sir. Thirty percent off is beyond my authority. I can go as low as twenty percent. Even if you walk out that door, you won’t find a better price than mine.”

“Twenty percent?” Reiji rubbed his chin. With twenty percent off, each box came down to five thousand six hundred Pokédollars. That was acceptable—already cheaper than on Kinnow Island. The store would still be making money. They had their own supply channels, after all.

If he produced Pokéblocks himself, it might be cheaper in theory, but it would be a huge pain. From ingredients to recipes to actual results… just thinking about the process gave him a headache.

“What do you think, sir?” The greasy manager rubbed his hands together. Even at twenty percent off, the store would profit nicely—only his commission would take a hit, and he’d have to share a slice with the saleswoman.

“Fine. Pack me two thousand boxes. Can you wipe off the change?” Reiji fixed his gaze on the manager. If the man refused, he’d walk right out.

“No problem at all, sir,” the manager replied at once, stunned that the number had just doubled. He promptly agreed to waive the small remainder and told the saleswoman to rush the order to the warehouse.

Then he pulled out a pack of good cigarettes from his pocket, ready to offer Reiji one—only to be refused again.

Reiji wasn’t here just for Life Pokéblocks. He also needed poison sacs. He leaned in and lowered his voice by the manager’s ear. “You know where I can get my hands on Pokémon poison sacs?”

“This…” The greasy man knew anyone asking for that kind of thing was no saint—especially someone willing to drop over ten million in one go on Life Pokéblocks.

He quietly set the cigarettes aside and dabbed at the sweat starting to bead on his forehead with a handkerchief. He already had an idea where to point Reiji: the black market.

Besides the black market, there was one more place to find them—the kitchens of certain restaurants.

Some diners liked that kind of “special” ingredient. Poisonous creatures weren’t off the menu as long as the venom sacs and fangs and other toxic parts were removed. Those bits became kitchen waste.

“Sir, I can give you an address,” the manager said at last. “Hand this slip to the person there, and they’ll understand.”

He took out a notepad and pen, wrote down the address of a restaurant, the person Reiji should look for, that person’s position, and then signed his own name. Finished, he passed the folded slip across the table.

Reiji glanced at the note, saw that it was indeed a restaurant address, and tucked it away. “If you’re trying to play me,” he said calmly, “you know what happens.”

“I understand, I understand,” the manager said quickly, smiling nervously. He wouldn’t dare try to cheat someone like this. Just getting through the sale without being killed was blessing enough; expecting this kind of customer to be “reasonable” was asking too much.

He personally oversaw the packing of the two thousand boxes of Life Pokéblocks, terrified that anything might go wrong with the shipment—and even more terrified that Reiji might come back over some tiny defect.

Only after he’d double-checked that every box really was premium did he relax slightly. To be extra safe, he threw in ten more boxes for free, just in case a few pieces went missing at the factory.

In the end, two thousand and ten boxes of Life Pokéblocks were stacked in front of Reiji, along with a printed bill.

At seven thousand Pokédollars a box, discounted to five thousand six hundred, two thousand boxes came to 11,200,000 Pokédollars.

After rounding down the change, the total was 11,000,000 Pokédollars.

Two thousand and ten boxes of Life Pokéblocks for eleven million Pokédollars, with ten boxes thrown in free.

Reiji took out over eleven million Pokédollars in cash from his backpack, paid on the spot, and carefully packed away all the Pokéblocks. Then he stood, hefted the now much heavier pack, and walked out of the department store.

After he left, the manager stared at the mountain of cash on the table. The bill-counting machine had been running non-stop and still wasn’t finished. Next time, he thought, they’d better set out more machines in advance… and his commission had just doubled.

The saleswoman in black stockings looked at the pile of money, hands trembling. Since she’d been the one to greet Reiji, she’d get a cut too.

Reiji headed straight from the department store to the restaurant written on the slip. It wasn’t far; a couple of directions from passersby was all it took to find it.

He picked a round table at random and sat down. A young waitress came over, set a menu in front of him, and asked, “What would you like to eat, sir?”

“Call your head chef,” Reiji said. He had a clear purpose coming here, and it wasn’t to dine.

“Sir, our head chef isn’t—” She’d just started to say he wasn’t available.

Reiji moved faster. He laid a crisp ten-thousand-Pokédollar bill on the table where she could see it and waited to see if she’d bite.

She swallowed. “O-of course, sir. Please wait a moment.”

After a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she snatched up the bill, tucked it away, and hurried to the back kitchen.

When she came back, a middle-aged man in a white chef’s coat followed behind her. “Head Chef, this is the customer who wanted to see you…”

She delivered him and then scurried off. If she stuck around, the chef would probably start yelling at her for dragging him out here in the first place.

“So you’re the one who wanted to see me?” the chef asked, sitting opposite Reiji.

“Take a look at this first.” Reiji slid the manager’s note across the table, then said, “I want to buy some poison sacs.”

“That’s doable. How much are you looking for?” The chef understood as soon as he saw the slip. Without it, no matter who Reiji was, he’d have refused to sell any kitchen scraps.

Those scraps were already being collected regularly by someone else and sold off. It didn’t matter who he sold them to, but he wasn’t about to take on extra risk just for fun.

“I’ll take however much you have,” Reiji said.

This time he wanted to stock up. He could feed Gastly small doses—no more than a hundred grams a day—and adjust up or down based on how it reacted.

“The price is three hundred thousand Pokédollars per half kilo. Are you sure you want all of it?” The chef stared at him, a little stunned that Reiji had opened with “I’ll take it all.”

“Three hundred thousand for half a kilo, huh? And you can guarantee the quality?” Reiji frowned.

He didn’t know the market price for poison sacs, but he was sure there was some markup in there. His two pieces of low-grade Poison-type material back then had only sold for three hundred thousand total. There was no way raw venom sacs were that expensive.

(End of Chapter)

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