After Reiji had fallen asleep, events related to him were still unfolding at the Pokémon Center.

"Kiddo, did you see that guy?" The old tavern keeper had received a call from the orphanage director. After finishing business and closing his shop at dusk, he came here and found his grandson sitting alone on a bench outside the Center, head lowered.

The old man sat down beside him and placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder. But the boy brushed it off.

He had taken a bad beating today. The last thing he wanted was to acknowledge this smelly old man—especially since the trainer who had humiliated him was someone this very old man had brought.

"Kiddo, I've already heard about it." The old man knew his grandson's pride well. Children without parents were always like this. As just a grandfather, he couldn't provide much in the way of parental warmth, only the last scraps of care he could give.

If only he'd been on that cruise ship back then, maybe his son and daughter-in-law wouldn't have been killed by pirates.

By the time he received the news, his son was barely hanging on to life. With his last breath, he handed the boy over, and then passed from this world.

Left behind was a white-haired old man, wondering how he was supposed to face a three-year-old child.

In the end, he had no choice but to leave his grandson at an old friend's orphanage. There, at least, he'd have companions his age, and maybe find some joy.

But things weren't so simple. The old man knew all too well what awaited a child with no parents.

He himself had long been mixed up in the black market, even becoming its gatekeeper. A place his young grandson could never touch.

His plan had been to work for a few more years, retire, and then personally teach his grandson—at the very least raising him so he could survive in this cruel world.

Then, when he himself was gone, the boy would still be able to live well in this world. That would be enough for him.

But plans never keep up with changes. The sudden appearance of that young man had made him reconsider.

The more he saw of him, the more he realized the youth was anything but ordinary. In time, he might not only become a veteran trainer but even an Elite—or perhaps a true Elite Four-class trainer.

So, to give his grandson that chance, the old man—after years of selling fake liquor and running scams—had decided to hire a strong trainer to teach him.

Then came the Poliwhirl. That Poliwhirl, and the way it had been raised, made the old man change his plan again. Anyone who could train a Poliwhirl like that deserved attention.

Compared to paying for some outsider, the old man preferred a free ride. And he was sure Reiji would come to him again. When that happened, it would be time to name his price.

Sure enough, things had gone just as he'd predicted: Reiji had willingly traded away his Poliwhirl's training methods. That alone satisfied the old man. Even if his grandson learned just a fraction from Reiji, it would be worth it.

But the problem was the boy himself. Not only had he offended the man, he'd gotten himself beaten badly—and now he was sulking at his grandfather.

Didn't he realize it was Reiji who had paid for his Poliwhirl's medical treatment? Or that the expensive high-grade water Pokéblocks, six thousand a box at the department store, had also come from Reiji?

If people wanted to say he was a swindler, so be it.

But the young man had already gone so far for them. If his grandson refused to cooperate, what could he do?

Now the only hope was to salvage things. And that would require his Grandson to take the initiative, bow his head, and apologize.

The old man knew the youth well enough: he wouldn't care much about childish insults. As long as he humbled himself, the agreement could continue.

The old man even had one card left to play—something that would surely stir his grandson to act. But he didn't want the kiddo to know. He didn't want him to live his whole life consumed by hatred.

And yet, without it, the boy would never soften, and the rift between them would remain.

So in the end, he spoke: "Kiddo, do you want to know how your parents died?"

"You'd actually tell me?" he muttered. Until now he had kept his head down, refusing to talk. At the mention of his parents' deaths, though, he finally looked up—his first words to his grandfather since they met.

"I could tell you. But you're too weak. Weak as you are, you can't do anything with the knowledge. What use would it be?" The old man shook his head with a bitter smile.

So many years had passed. Who exactly the pirates had been, even he had never found out. The leader, or just some lackey? Did they even still live? Pointless to dwell on—it only brought pain.

"Not even you?" His grandson pressed, curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"When I was young, maybe. But now I'm old." The wrinkles on the old man's face deepened with helplessness.

"Then tell me, and I'll do it,"

"You? You can't even beat me," the old man replied bluntly.

"Smelly old man… You say all that but won't tell me? Fine, I'm not talking to you anymore." He turned away, sulking.

But the old man's goal had already been achieved. His grandson was talking again.

"Just because I won't tell you now doesn't mean I never will. When you're strong enough to surpass me, then it will matter. If you never do, then the knowledge is useless."

"I'll get stronger, old man," The kid said stubbornly.

"I know you will. But don't you want to grow stronger, faster?" the old man asked cautiously.

"I will… I will…". He knew full well that, with no resources and no teacher, becoming strong would be nearly impossible.

Ordinary people in this world were no different from ordinary people back on Earth: life was a hard climb.

After a silence, He asked at last, "Grandpa, Where did you find that trainer?"

"Strong, isn't he?" The old man finally smiled. His grandson had taken the bait.

"Strong? You call that strong?!" The boy scowled, remembering the morning's battle. He hadn't even been able to lift a hand before he was crushed.

So that earlier fight had been a joke. When the man got serious, even his Poliwhirl hadn't been able to endure a single blow.

"The first time he walked into my tavern, his Poliwhirl knocked out a veteran trainer in one hit," the old man boasted.

"One hit?!" He was stunned.

"Yes. One strike took out both trainer and Pokémon together. Punched straight through the tavern wall." The old man nodded gravely, selling the story hard.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? My Poliwhirl wouldn't have gotten beaten up," The kid grumbled.

"How was I to know you'd be so foolish as to challenge him? If I'd known, I'd never have brought him near you," the old man said.

"Old man…" He murmured, falling silent. He knew exactly why his grandfather had said so much: to push him toward that youth.

Getting a boy his age to bow his head and apologize was hard enough. Harder still when he'd already insulted the other party.

"Kiddo, if you really want to grow stronger, go to him. I've already spoken to him—he'll teach you." Of course, the old man was bluffing. He hadn't spoken to Reiji at all. But his grandson didn't need to know that.

"Old man, stop meddling," He muttered. But this time, his resistance was weak. He stood and walked back into the Pokémon Center to check on his Poliwhirl's condition.

If it was recovering, he'd return to the orphanage soon.

When he came out, Poké Ball in hand, the bench was empty. The old man had vanished, leaving only a cardboard box.

Inside were Pokéblocks—high-grade ones, both Grass and Water types. Beneath them was a stack of 100,000 Pokédollars.

The boy packed them all away before hailing a cab back to the orphanage. He knew it was his grandfather's doing. Raising Pokémon cost money. This was his chance.

From a distance, the old man watched his grandson depart, box in hand. Only then did he turn back toward his tavern.

The night was just beginning. His bar still had customers waiting.

(End of Chapter)

[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]

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