Day 3 at the Gym. Clear skies.

That morning, Reiji made lunch for himself and packed meals for the Pokémon as well. Once everyone had eaten, he returned them to their Poké Balls and got ready to head to work at the Mikan Gym.

Before he left the cabin, he checked in with Tentacool—the one that had overeaten last night and skipped breakfast—to ask whether there were any other hidden river entrances in the lake. He even let it back into the water and had it scout the lakebed to see if the old breach they used before was still there.

It didn’t take long. Tentacool popped up, called out twice, and made it clear the entrances it knew about were all sealed.

With Darkrai translating, Reiji finally relaxed. This time, he planned to leave most of the Pokémon at the lakeside cabin and only bring Pelipper, Poliwhirl, Rhyhorn, Scyther, Zapdos, Darkrai, Mudkip, and that Magikarp with 59 potential.

Just eight.

He left Kingler behind to guard the little ones in the water, and Butterfree to watch over the ones on shore. Between those two, the place would be safe—and they could keep everyone training instead of messing about.

As for swapping out Rhyhorn for Kingler, it was simple: Kingler had already fought a Gym battle. The next few challenges would go to Hanhan and the others. Reiji intended to rotate everyone in. No one got left out.

Zapdos, Mudkip, and the Magikarp would stay with him for now. They were still young, and keeping them close made it easier to look after them—and build trust. Once they were past the truly fragile stage, he could leave them at the cabin and let Butterfree and the others handle “babysitting duty.”

Gengar was the only problem. The little glutton was too restless for its own good, so Reiji reminded it—again—to keep training and keep sparring with Croagunk for perception work. If Gengar slacked off, it wouldn’t just lose battles. It wouldn’t even win food fights.

After leaving enough food for lunch and dinner—just in case he couldn’t make it back—he told Butterfree to manage the portions. The honey they’d stolen could count as dessert.

Once everything was settled, he climbed onto Pelipper and flew to the Gym to clock in. Cissy wasn’t there this morning; when he asked Senta, he learned she’d gone out early.

Reiji didn’t mind. Without that madwoman chattering in his ear, the place felt a lot quieter.

Before starting the day, he grabbed breakfast from the back kitchen. The routine at the Gym stayed the same: if there were no challengers, everyone trained; if someone showed up, they fought.

After breakfast, Reiji went for a light jog. During breaks, he spent time with Zapdos. The little grey thing had finally started growing feathers after a week or so, but it still looked like a scruffy, grey-backed chick—nothing like the legendary it was meant to become.

Without the status panel, even Reiji wouldn’t recognise it. He’d probably mistake it for a Spearow—maybe even think it was a shiny one.

Zapdos could walk now, but it was still wobbly, pecking and tottering like a newly hatched chick. Training could wait. First it needed to finish growing its feathers—at least to the point where it could fly.

Mudkip didn’t come out at the Gym. It wasn’t the kind of Pokémon Reiji wanted appearing here. It was still training, though—just not on display.

In a few days, he’d start leaving Mudkip at the cabin more often so it could train Water Gun with Kingler. Separating would sting at first, but he could ease into it: a morning here, an afternoon there, then a full day. Let it get used to being apart.

When he travelled again, he’d bring Mudkip along anyway. He wasn’t worried about the bond going cold.

Then there was that Magikarp. Reiji wanted to use the Gym’s quieter days to build trust with it, take it in properly, and then return to that island so it could make the leap and evolve.

A Gyarados would be at least Elite tier right after evolving. It wouldn’t catch Poliwhirl’s front line immediately, but it would be strong enough to anchor the second wave.

And Poliwhirl was stuck right now, too. That gave the others room to catch up—if only Reiji could get his hands on a top-grade Water Stone.

“Rai-nii? That bird is really ugly,” Senta said, watching Reiji feed the little grey chick and play with it. He honestly couldn’t understand Reiji’s taste.

Reiji just laughed. “It’s a shiny Spearow.”

He didn’t elaborate. He had zero interest in catching Spearow. If he ever wanted a proper flying partner, Pidgeot was the clear pick.

But Fearow versus Pidgeot was one thing. A shiny Spearow was another. People got weird about that.

“Oh—right,” Senta added. “That snail of yours is a Unova bug-type, and it’s shiny too. It’s a shame it can’t evolve.”

Senta’s eyes shone with envy. Rare Pokémon were rare for a reason.

Still, in his mind, a Pokémon that couldn’t evolve was doomed to lose against one that could. Charmander couldn’t match Charizard. The difference was too big.

Reiji nodded. “Good. Keep thinking like that. If you want to win, you can’t just recognise what the opponent sends out. You need to know what it does—its Ability, its likely moves, and what it’s trying to set up. That’s basic homework for any new Trainer.”

“I’ll work hard, Rai-nii,” Senta said, suddenly flustered from the praise. His cheeks went red, and he hurried off with Squirtle to practise Water Gun target shooting.

Reiji watched him go and chuckled. Kids really did blush at the slightest compliment.

He returned Zapdos to its ball and kept jogging around the pool, morning training rolling on with the others.

Then a challenger arrived, and Reiji finally stopped. It was someone he’d seen around town before—the young man with a Golduck.

“Acting Gym Leader,” the man greeted, seeing Reiji alive and energetic. He looked quietly relieved. After two days without seeing him, he’d started to wonder if Reiji had died somewhere.

“What is it?” Reiji asked. This was their fourth meeting now. The man knew he couldn’t beat Reiji, so why come to the Gym again?

“We can’t really talk properly in here,” the man said. “Can we go outside?”

“Fine.”

Reiji understood immediately. “Not enough space” was an excuse. What the man actually wanted was privacy—away from Senta’s ears.

Reiji followed him outside, with Poliwhirl and Scyther at his side and Darkrai hiding in his shadow. With those three close, he wasn’t worried about tricks.

“I’ve got information,” the man said. “Something you’ll be interested in.”

Reiji didn’t answer the bait. “What do you want for it?”

“A training method for psychic perception.”

So that was it. The man remembered Reiji telling him to work his Golduck’s psychic sense into battle. He assumed Reiji had a method—and he wanted it.

“Goodbye,” Reiji said, turning to leave.

He wasn’t refusing because he couldn’t provide something. He was refusing because he already knew who was targeting him.

There was only one candidate: the jealous young man from yesterday, the one who acted like he’d swallowed vinegar. Cissy wanted revenge, sure, but she wasn’t trying to kill him. That fool was probably just another piece on her board—used as a weapon and too stupid to notice.

“Wait,” the man said quickly, stepping in front of him. “This is worth it. You’d never guess who actually wants you dead.”

“Is it the guy hanging around Cissy?” Reiji said flatly, folding his arms as he stared him down.

“It’s him… and it isn’t,” the man said, nodding and shaking his head in the same breath. “He’s a piece on the board. The one behind him has a bigger reach. Even I don’t want to get on the wrong side of that organisation.”

“Bigger reach?” Reiji asked. “What does that even mean?”

The man grinned and rubbed his hands together. Pay first.

Reiji didn’t move. “Why should I believe your information is real?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” the man said with a smug laugh. “I have channels. Believe it or don’t. You’ve blocked someone’s money. That’s a death sentence.”

Reiji went quiet for a moment, then nodded once. “Fine. I can give you half a meditation manual.”

To hear what the man actually knew, Reiji pulled out the book he’d taken off a Team Rocket undercover agent on Kinnow Island. It covered psychic meditation—and some practical uses, including perception.

It was stolen goods, and he’d never dealt with it. To avoid trouble, he’d already torn off the cover. On top of that, it wasn’t even complete. It looked like half a book someone picked up from a street stall.

If the man wasn’t Team Rocket—and didn’t join them—and had never read their internal manuals, he wouldn’t spot where it came from. Besides, meditation methods were all variations on the same themes. Knowledge like that could be copied. It wasn’t “rare” in the places that mattered.

And who was to say Team Rocket didn’t steal it from someone else first?

“A meditation manual?” the man said, flipping through a few pages.

His eyes lit up like someone had thrown a match into dry grass. His face flushed, his heartbeat visibly jumped, and he had to swallow hard.

So Reiji really did have something like this—methods for training a Pokémon’s psychic power, and even notes on how humans could train it too, if they were born with psychic ability.

Humans who awakened psychic power were rare. Lucky people.

He wasn’t one of them.

“Got a phone?” Reiji said. “Photograph it. I’ve only got the one copy.”

“Right—sorry,” the man said, fumbling out his phone. He photographed each page, planning to copy it all down later and study it slowly.

It didn’t take long; the booklet was thin. When he finished, he handed it back.

“Now talk,” Reiji said.

Reiji didn’t care that he’d copied it. Most of the content was useless to him anyway. Reiji couldn’t train psychic power, but Butterfree and the others could—and Slowpoke spent half its life spaced out, basically following the same methods already.

For a wild trainer like this bounty hunter, though, any proper training text was precious. People like him didn’t get books unless they stole them, traded for them, or got lucky.

The man tucked his phone away carefully. “You’re straightforward. I told you this would be worth it.”

He took a breath and started.

“First: the guy around Cissy—his accent’s from Kanto. At minimum he’s a quasi–Elite Four tier Trainer. His strongest Pokémon is a Charizard, and most of his pokemon are Kanto natives. He’s been here a while. Supposedly he came to chase Cissy.”

“A quasi–Elite Four tier?” Reiji raised an eyebrow. “If he’s that strong, aren’t you afraid he’ll come after you?”

“Everyone knows that,” the man said. “I hear his people talk about it in the port taverns all the time. It’s gossip about the beautiful Gym Leader. In a small place like this, stories spread fast. You know how it is.”

He smiled, relaxed now that he’d gotten his prize, and even lit a cigarette—then offered one to Reiji.

Reiji refused. He didn’t want smoke. He wanted answers.

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

“It has everything to do with you,” the man said. “You’re the first Trainer to join the Mikan Gym after Cissy became Leader—and you walked in and became Acting Gym Leader. You’re strong, too. People in the taverns are guessing you might also be quasi–Elite Four tier.”

“And since her pursuer is quasi–Elite Four tier as well, everyone compares you two. Two ‘strong suitors’ fighting over the famous beauty—those conversations get loud. Eventually they reached his ears.”

“Hold on,” Reiji said, staring at him. “Who told them I joined the Gym to chase the Leader?”

The man burst out laughing. “Because this is a small town. There’s not much entertainment besides Pokémon battles and drinking. Cissy’s famous, and she’s beautiful. A breeze moves and everyone says the storm is coming.”

He laughed even harder when he saw how genuinely lost Reiji looked.

Reiji had joined as a Trainer. That was it. No intention of marrying into anything, no romantic scheme.

But outsiders didn’t see it that way—especially not the “rival.” In that man’s eyes, Reiji wasn’t just an obstacle. He was a nail in the eye, a thorn in the flesh. The kind of thing you wanted to tear out with your bare hands.

If you spent years chasing someone and a newcomer “steals” her in three days, you wouldn’t be calm about it. You’d want blood.

The bounty hunter kept talking, and the picture got uglier: the pursuer’s people claimed Cissy had been distracted lately—spacing out in the car, staring at the sea, even losing herself while looking at crates of citrus. They guessed she was thinking about someone.

And if she wasn’t thinking about their boss—who stood right beside her—then she had to be thinking about someone else.

The boss didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

“Damn it,” Reiji muttered. “Even if I’m not some lovesick idiot, I’ve been turned into one anyway.”

Gossip really was a knife you never saw coming.

Once the story hardened, it didn’t matter what the truth was. People would look at you and only see the version they’d already decided on. And if that story reached the pursuer, it would feel like someone kept driving blades into his chest.

Which explained the bounty hunter.

The pursuer couldn’t kill Reiji himself. If Reiji died, he’d be the first suspect. So he’d hired someone else to do it.

Reiji swallowed and forced his thoughts into order. He’d done nothing, yet he’d somehow earned a quasi–Elite Four tier enemy. And that enemy might have backing.

“Anything else?” he asked, voice tight.

“Yeah,” the man said, tapping his temple as if he’d just remembered. “His backing isn’t simple. If you pay attention to news around the Orange Archipelago lately, you’ll know there’s a certain underground organisation getting active.”

“And he’s from Kanto. He’s connected to the Mikan Gym by distant family ties. He’s here handling citrus shipments to Kanto, and he’s courting Cissy. Put that together.”

He didn’t say the name out loud. He didn’t dare.

But he didn’t need to. Reiji would understand.

As for why people wouldn’t suspect Reiji of being an undercover agent instead?

Simple. Who would anyone trust—someone who joined the Gym three days ago, or the “distant relative” who’d been working with them and moving their produce to Kanto for who knew how long?

In a place like this, that question answered itself.

Reiji let out a quiet breath. The organisation the man was hinting at could only be one thing.

Team Rocket.

Reiji didn’t just know the “news.” He knew how much of that news was hidden behind words like “riots” and “pirates.” He’d lived through it. Some of those headlines had practically been written around him.

If Team Rocket was making moves in the Orange Archipelago, it fit—bleakly. Kanto had plenty of powerful families with their hands in dirty business, some brazen about it, others careful.

And it wasn’t just the families. James was loaded too, and Giovanni didn’t give anyone special treatment without a reason.

“You can go,” Reiji said at last, waving him off.

The bounty hunter hesitated, then threw in one last warning before leaving. “Someone’s already taken your bounty. Be careful. People in the tavern have been talking about your strength. Anyone who still accepts this job is the kind of person who doesn’t care if they die.”

“Thanks,” Reiji said.

He returned to the Gym with a heavy weight in his chest. This wasn’t just annoying anymore. It was trouble.

He’d really hoped he was done with Team Rocket. Yet here it was again. Wherever he went.

If he stayed at the Mikan Gym, he’d have to deal with that man sooner or later—backstabs, tricks, sabotage, and eventually an attempt on his life.

If bounty hunters couldn’t handle him, then the pursuer had two pressures pushing him: his undercover plan, and his hatred. He’d report upward. Team Rocket would send someone stronger. Reiji would be removed as an “obstacle,” and the plan could continue.

Could Reiji go to the old fisherman behind the Gym and “expose” the family’s Team Rocket ties?

He almost laughed at the thought.

The old man wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t an idiot. He was just old.

If that “distant relative” was here handling citrus shipments to Kanto, the families were already connected. Calls would’ve been made. Favors traded. Maybe even meals shared—polite smiles over the same table, the relationship quietly cemented.

If Reiji tried to “warn” them, they’d stare at him like he didn’t understand how the world worked. And in that look, he’d get his answer about where he ranked.

Adults didn’t move on right and wrong. They moved on interests.

And if someone did step wrong, they’d sacrifice whatever needed sacrificing to keep themselves safe.

Reiji wasn’t about to play the lone-sane-man routine and turn himself into a punchline. He needed a different exit.

He wasn’t wading into this mess. Let the League deal with Team Rocket’s rot. He was a freshly registered rookie Trainer—what right did he have to throw himself into a fight between the League, Team Rocket, and the Orange Archipelago’s local powers?

He had one job: get stronger. Everything else could wait.

[End of chapter]

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep