They bought that “hero” title for thirty million Pokédollars—ten million per family, roughly half a million in his previous life’s money.

As for what really happened? What the truth actually was? Did it matter?

Who would even care?

After all, the heroic tale of those three had an old captain with over thirty years at sea standing behind it as a witness.

At a time like this, did the real truth matter?

Honestly, not at all.

No one kept digging. The pirates became the scapegoats. The old captain pocketed his hush money twice.

The club’s reputation climbed another rung, its edge over rival clubs fully on display.

The League’s sense of justice shone again—at least they weren’t pirates, at least they weren’t that brutal.

The dead men’s families received compensation. The dead themselves got the title of heroes, loved and praised by the public.

Aside from the pirates and those three corpses, there were no losers in this little game. Everyone else got what they wanted.

That’s what a trade of interests looks like. Filthy, but plenty of people love it, even drown in it, unable to pull themselves out.

It was a contest between several big forces. Reiji and his partner, the three dead men, the pirates who attacked the cruise ship…

They were all small roles. Forget joining the game—none of them even had the right to sit at the table. Nobody cared how many small fry died.

As long as everyone was satisfied with the outcome, who would bother about what a few nobodies thought? And if some “big genius” dared jump out and question those people, that genius would be erased on the spot—vanishing from the world without a trace.

Who would care that the whole mess started because of a few small-time thugs? Who would care what those thugs thought? Who would care whether they lived or died…

No one cared about a few small roles.

…

Shun knew none of that.

He only saw Officer Jenny and Taro leave, watched Keiko crying through his binoculars, and guessed she’d just received Ren’s death notice.

If they were only telling her now, then clearly she’d really known nothing about Ren hunting him down.

Over the next two days, Shun kept an eye on Keiko. He saw her arrange a grave for Ren, saw her skip work and lock herself in at home alone.

On the third day, Keiko finally opened the shop again. Shun went back to the massage parlor, brought Ren up in conversation, and heard the news of Ren’s death from Keiko herself. The TV was also running a story about three heroic Trainers who had fallen while resisting pirates.

When he saw that news report, Shun’s rage exploded.

The same people who’d hunted him down, tried to steal his Elekid, wanted him dead… had suddenly flipped the script and turned into great heroes who died fighting pirates.

“Bullshit. It’s all crap. They’re crap, and now they’re heroes? Hahaha… heroes… hahaha… crap. All of it is crap…”

It wasn’t that late yet, but the rain was heavy.

For the first time, Shun felt like he was really seeing this world—and what he saw was nothing like the world he’d imagined. The place he lived in suddenly felt unfamiliar.

“Yobo, yobo…”

Poliwhirl watched Shun stand there in the downpour, worried he’d catch a cold, and called softly to remind him it was raining.

“I’m fine. I know.”

Shun walked to the Pokémon Center’s front doors and looked at the warm yellow light inside, at the Trainers going in and out. Then he turned his head and looked at the passersby walking past him in the rain.

A figure surfaced in his mind.

He had come here before with that person. That person was Reiji, the big brother who’d shown him how to see the world and how to become a strong Trainer.

More and more scenes followed. He remembered every moment with Reiji, and all the little lines he’d written down before, lines he hadn’t really understood at the time.

“Reiji-nii… so this is the world you see, huh. You were right. A world like this really is disgusting. I was the naïve one…”

No wonder Reiji hadn’t let him join Officer Jenny’s investigation of the orphanage. No wonder Reiji told him to open his eyes and really look at the world.

He had seen it now. He’d seen it clearly. He’d seen the rules that made the world turn.

He stepped forward into the rain-soaked night.

A white flash of lightning tore through the dark sky. Shun didn’t know where in this storm he could find solid ground to stand on. It felt like the whole world was fake, all of it a lie. A tide of pitch-black despair surged over him, trying to drown him.

He stood out there in the pouring rain, the light gone from his eyes like a dried-up lake. The water that had once brimmed with hope and dreams had been drained away. There was nothing real left in his gaze, only hollowness, exhaustion, and bone-deep helplessness.

He had confirmed that Keiko hadn’t known about the hunt for him, but there was no joy in that. The lively, fiery boy he’d been, the kid who’d once looked forward to the future with all his heart, was disappearing.

All that was left was a drenched, silent figure, lips pressed tight, staggering through the rain with sunken eyes and chapped lips, his face full of confusion and fatigue—like a tiny boat on an endless ocean, drifting with no sense of direction.

He felt as if his heart had been stabbed through by a blade of ice, the cold biting all the way into his bones, stealing his breath. His body felt cold, his blood felt cold, and his heart was slowly freezing over as well.

In that state, he stumbled his way to the Sailors’ Bar and knocked on the back door. The one who opened it—his grandpa—was the last bit of warmth he had left.

“Shun, where did you go? Why are you soaked like this?”

Grandpa took one look at him standing in the doorway without even bringing an umbrella and started worrying he’d catch a cold.

“Grandpa…”

Shun slowly lifted his drenched face, his eyes red. He’d already cried out in the rain.

“Yobo, yobo…”

Poliwhirl raised a hand and pointed at the TV inside, telling Grandpa that Shun had become like this after watching the news.

“The news? You mean that report? You saw it?”

The moment Grandpa glanced at the TV, he thought of the news that had just been on—the segment about three Trainers who died resisting pirates.

“Heh…”

Grandpa let out a helpless little laugh. The resemblance was painful.

Right now Shun looked just like his son back then. His boy had also been given the title of hero once. But after all those years, who still remembered that a hero had given his life?

“I saw it…”

Shun nodded, choking on the words. At this point, there was only one person left he could still trust—his grandpa.

“Shun, you didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is this world. What’s wrong is me. It’s Grandpa who failed to protect you.”

Grandpa gently wiped Shun’s soaked hair with a towel. His own grandson was the true victim here, yet there was no way to tell anyone.

He understood exactly why the club had done what it did. But so what if he understood? What was he going to do, an old man, stand up and expose their lie?

Don’t joke. If he did that, the stable little life they’d finally built would collapse overnight. Everything would shatter, and he had no idea how Shun was supposed to survive that kind of fallout.

“Grandpa, Reiji-nii told me once: if I really watch the world with my heart, I’ll know what’s right.”

Shun wiped the corners of his eyes. His voice had steadied again.

“I get it now, Grandpa. Sooner or later, I was going to see this world for what it is anyway…”

“That kid again…”

Grandpa sighed. Had this day been within that boy’s expectations as well? Even when he wasn’t at Shun’s side, he still had this much influence on him. People like that were terrifying in their own way.

“Grandpa, I’m going to get stronger. I’ll go to the regional tournament and win the championship. I want to become so strong that they don’t dare ignore my voice.”

Shun understood that only strength would let his words be heard. Only when he was strong enough would people stop treating his voice like it didn’t exist.

He wanted strength—more than ever before. He wanted enough power to seize his own fate, to become the hand holding the knife, not just a blade that only ever saw blood.

“Go do what you want to do. Grandpa will back you all the way. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you.”

Seeing his grandson bounce back that quickly, Grandpa couldn’t help being impressed by that “lazy” young man’s methods.

Honestly, if Reiji had been standing there, he would’ve been just as confused as Grandpa. This whole farce was the club’s stunt. He’d never expected them to play it like this.

As for him, he didn’t really care—so long as no one came after him again, he was happy to relax and stay out of the mess.

A professional slacker wasn’t about to worry about this kind of crap. Living his own quiet little life was more than enough; let the rest of the world drown in its own flood.

At first, Shun had misunderstood. He thought that people holding the knife would never end up as corpses, so he’d wanted to be the one holding the knife, not the body on the ground.

That wasn’t exactly wrong, but it was only half the picture. At best, that made you a high-level thug.

Now he finally understood what “holding the knife” really meant.

In this world, there were only two kinds of people: the ones holding the knife, and the corpses.

Right now, he was one of those corpses. You didn’t have to be dead to be a corpse. Even alive, he was just a body that couldn’t make a sound, a body that might get tossed into a gutter whenever the knife-wielders felt like cutting him down.

He didn’t want to be a corpse. He didn’t want to be slaughtered. He wanted his hand on the knife’s hilt, and he knew he could get there. Reiji had already opened the path for him; the rest of the road would be up to him to walk.

One day, he would stand in front of Reiji and prove he was worthy of holding that knife. He would not disappoint Reiji’s expectations.

That’s the will of an individual human being. And so far, Shun’s momentum was strong. It didn’t look like he’d lose steam anytime soon.

If Reiji knew how firmly Shun now looked toward the future, he’d be relieved—and genuinely happy about Shun’s transformation.

Not that any of this was his teaching, of course. Shun had figured it all out on his own. No one should go around slandering him for it.

A professional slacker had just let a student roam free, that’s all. How bad could his intentions really be…

…

Back at the Sailors’ Bar, Shun took a long, hot bath, just to make sure he didn’t get sick.

Soaking in the steaming tub, he finally let go of the whole matter with Keiko. That story was over.

Since Keiko hadn’t known the truth, there was no need to keep spying on her. He’d start a new life. The new him, a new life.

The next morning, he got up early and made breakfast for his Pokémon. Once everyone had eaten, he headed to the Pokémon Center.

He left Mankey and Ditto off the list and had the rest of his team go through a full check-up. After that, he planned to go back to the villa to train.

After following Reiji for so long, his Poliwhirl had already mastered burst-style Waterfall. All it needed now was steady, grinding work to push it one step further and complete the idea Reiji had explained to him that night.

Right now, Poliwhirl’s Waterfall was just like Reiji’s had been when he first arrived in Kinnow City. As long as Poliwhirl didn’t get caught in midair, where it couldn’t dodge or change course, the move was already usable in battle.

Unfortunately, the moment Shun showed up at the Pokémon Center, someone recognized him.

After all, he was that mysterious Trainer’s little shadow. That Trainer’s sudden forfeit had caused a huge stir and made a lot of gamblers lose a lot of money.

Plenty of people had been whispering that the guy had been scared of Taro, scared of Electivire, and that was why he’d forfeited.

As more Electivire appeared one after another, each one putting up terrifying battle records, people only grew more convinced. In their eyes, Reiji had quit because he was afraid of Electivire.

Shun had zero interest in dealing with this swarm of annoying flies. Even if they really would’ve lost—so what?

The matchup between Poliwhirl and Electivire spoke for itself, and there was a clear type advantage in play. Anyone with eyes could see which side ought to have the edge.

But some “big geniuses” just had to say it out loud to show how clever they were, as if nobody else had noticed and only their brilliant analysis could uncover such truths. In everyone else’s eyes, that kind of person was the real “genius.”

Shun’s refusal to engage only enraged those self-important Trainers. One after another, they challenged him.

He didn’t back down. He went straight to the battlefield and accepted the fights, setting the stake at a million Pokédollars.

If these people were going to yap so loudly, they could put their money where their mouths were. No cash, no battle—he wasn’t about to waste his time.

In the end, someone who couldn’t swallow his pride threw a million on the table and challenged him, furious at Shun’s calm contempt.

Shun sent out Poliwhirl to go collect. His opponent, spotting an opening, immediately threw out an Electabuzz.

The moment the Electabuzz and Poliwhirl appeared, the crowd remembered that earlier battle—the one that had gotten everyone’s blood pumping. That five-million match, the crazy reverse-type showdown. This time the bet was only one million, but they knew it meant another good show.

People hurried to call their friends over.

Shun took one look at the Electabuzz. Half-controlled orange-yellow electricity sparked and crawled over its body. It had clearly only just evolved and still couldn’t manage its own power.

His Poliwhirl had spent a long time training alongside Reiji’s Poliwhirl. Losing to that Scyther was one thing—but if it couldn’t even beat a fresh Electabuzz like this, Shun would be too embarrassed to admit Reiji was his teacher.

“Poliwhirl, Mud Shot.”

Poliwhirl’s accuracy with Mud Shot pinned Electabuzz down. Any time Electabuzz tried to unleash its electricity, Poliwhirl kicked off Waterfall and leapt clear.

When the long-range fight went nowhere, Electabuzz’s Trainer finally snapped and ordered a close-quarters brawl.

And that was that.

Shun granted the guy’s wish and let Poliwhirl slug it out in a full-on reverse-type fist fight. Their clash sent shockwaves blasting across the field again and again, explosions ripping up the ground and buffeting the spectators until they staggered where they stood.

Everyone watching shouted themselves hoarse. They were thrilled. The reverse-type Poliwhirl that fought electric-types head-on had appeared again—and once more, it had taken down an Electric type in a type disadvantage matchup.

Poliwhirl’s arm got injured in the fight, but it defeated Electabuzz anyway. That was another reverse-type victory that shouldn’t have been possible on paper. Electric Pokémon weren’t invincible, and these two Poliwhirl were the best proof of that.

Shun recalled Poliwhirl without paying any attention to the crowd’s cheers. He stepped up onto the Trainers’ platform, released Pelipper, and flew off right in front of everyone.

As Pelipper vanished into the sky, the spectators were still replaying the battle in their heads. This kid was far too similar to that mysterious Trainer.

Especially those Poliwhirl—two of them, fighting in exactly the same style. It was like watching a smaller version of that mysterious Trainer.

By the time people thought to chase him down and beg him to teach them that battle style, Shun was already gone.

At the same time, in a high-rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, someone else had watched the whole match while eating breakfast.

Elite Four Lance.

“Interesting. He’s just like that guy. That Poliwhirl looks like it was made from the same mold. This kid definitely has something to do with him. Didn’t expect a side benefit on this trip…”

Lance had spent the past week secretly investigating Reiji. The more he dug, the clearer it became: the problem with Reiji was that there was no problem at all, and that alone was a problem.

The orphanage checked out. The ID checked out. Every piece of testimony and evidence checked out. No matter how he looked, Reiji was a kid who grew up there, a survivor of a shipwreck ten years ago. His original hometown had vanished from the records; the trail ended with some paper files from ten years back.

Those files had been lost in a fire. The League’s digital records for him had only been updated last month.

If there was anything wrong, it was that too many people and too much paperwork all agreed he was exactly who he claimed to be. If there was a flaw here, it meant the orphanage, the police, Officer Jenny, and everyone who knew him were all lying to cover for him.

Every Officer Jenny he talked to had met Reiji. When he had them quietly test the kids at the orphanage, all of them said Reiji was one of them, the big brother who treated them well and bought them meat.

There really wasn’t a single crack to be found. On paper, that boy had spent the last decade growing up in that orphanage.

But Lance’s instincts screamed that it wasn’t that simple. There was no way a kid who spent ten years trapped in an orphanage would end up with that kind of strength—and on top of that, train a student this good.

A very interesting boy, hiding something very interesting. And that explosive power in Poliwhirl…

This was getting more fun by the minute.

Unfortunately, he was out of time. He couldn’t stay here chasing one mysterious teenager. The investigation would have to be shelved for now and picked back up when he had room in his schedule.

Report it to the League?

Don’t make him laugh. The moment he filed anything on these two, their profiles, current strength, and that odd Poliwhirl would show up on the desk of Team Rocket’s boss.

Then the League would have two future Elite Four-level enemies on its hands.

He couldn’t let that happen. And yes, he was biased—these were seedlings he’d personally marked out. It was far too early for the League to lay eyes on them.

The League wasn’t some pure, united block. Part of him was afraid they’d decide those two orphans were a threat and move against them.

It was that hassle-hating kid who’d reminded him of that angle. If not for Reiji, he might already have taken Shun away.

Why were all the boys with such promising futures orphans, anyway?

He didn’t get it.

…

(End of Chapter)

TL Note: Below is a note left by the original author, i left this one here because it was just interesting, at least for me.

The author’s note:

Keiko actually had a darker possible version, where she was in on it with Ren from the start.

I didn’t write that one. If I had, this really would’ve turned into a grimdark story. I’m just writing things as they are, not writing pure “darkness.”

Most of the characters in the book aren’t bad people. They just like skimming a few small benefits and have their own little schemes.

The ones who deserve to die… well, no need to bring them up. The rest are actually pretty decent.

…

That said, when I finished this arc, I felt like this version was even darker. It fits Shun’s transformation really well.

If the world were cleanly divided into black and white—good is good, evil is evil, like in the anime—Shun wouldn’t have collapsed this hard. But the world isn’t black-and-white. There’s gray between the two.

Sorry about that. I’d meant to keep things lighter, but once I started writing, it just kept sliding and I couldn’t pull it back. So here we are.

…

Once again: this is just realism. It’s not a grimdark story.

If someone reads “realistic” and still thinks it’s too dark, then their real life probably hasn’t handed them many setbacks. They’ve probably had smooth sailing most of the way.

If that’s your life, be happy. A lot of people can only envy that.

[End of Chapter]

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