After Reiji left, Quincy didn't stay by the river much longer either. By evening, he'd packed up the food Reiji had left behind, brought Farfetch'd and Heracross with him, and strolled back to the cabin at an unhurried pace.
He'd barely arrived when he spotted a young man waiting outside. The moment the young man saw him, his face lit up and he jogged over.
"Sir, are you Mr. Quincy?"
"I am. And you are?" Quincy studied him for a beat. For a second he'd thought Team Rocket had come sniffing around, but their people didn't speak this politely.
"I'm a trainer from the Kumquat Gym. Gym Leader Luana sent me," the young man said, bowing slightly. "I'm here to thank you, sir. Thank you for saving Travis." He offered a neatly wrapped set of gifts.
"Oh, the Kumquat Gym." Quincy pushed open the door and stepped inside, switching on the cabin's solar lamp as he waved the young man in. "Then you've got the wrong person. I didn't save Travis. Rai did."
"I've already heard from Travis," the young man said as he set the gifts down and glanced around the cabin. "You deserve thanks, and that trainer does too. But… why isn't Rai here?"
"He's gone. You're late." Quincy tamped his pipe and poured him a cup of plain water.
"Thank you." The young man accepted it, his expression carefully regretful. "When did he leave? It's a shame I couldn't hand these gifts to him personally."
"Left at noon."
"I see." The young man nodded, then asked as casually as he could, "Did he mention where he was headed? I'd still like to deliver these to him."
"He didn't say, and I didn't ask." Quincy shrugged. "That's the truth. Believe it or don't."
The young man watched Quincy's face for any flicker and got nothing. Old foxes like this didn't give you tells. Still, Quincy spoke about Rai like it was small talk, not a guarded topic. That meant he probably really didn't know.
"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Quincy," the young man said, switching gears smoothly. "Please accept these gifts, at least."
"That's too polite. I didn't do much, taking gifts feels wrong," Quincy said—then he noticed it was mostly food. And he truly was running low. "But… fine. I'll take it."
The young man laughed politely. "You looked after Travis those days. Gifts are the least we can do."
He was already preparing to leave and report back. No Rai, no new trail—he'd arrived a step too late. If he'd made it in the morning, he might've met the man. Now all he had was an empty lead.
"I haven't eaten yet," Quincy said, pulling out a self-heating meal. "Staying for a couple drinks?"
"Thank you, but I still have business to handle. I won't disturb your dinner." The young man bowed again and stepped out.
The moment he cleared the doorway, a thick "fog" swallowed the yard.
His eyes narrowed.
"That's not mist—Poison Gas." He'd barely inhaled a trace before he snapped his breathing shut. The stench alone told him what it was.
He released his Flying-type at once. "Pidgeot—Gust! Blow it away!"
Poké Balls flashed in his hands one after another as he sent out five more Pokémon, spreading them around him while Pidgeot drove the poison cloud back. The air cleared.
No attacker showed themselves.
A warning prickled up the back of his neck. He twisted away on instinct—just as a chain of Poison Sting shots whistled past and buried themselves in the dirt in front of the cabin.
"Cowards," he barked. "If you're going to attack, come out!"
A figure dropped from the roof, no longer bothering to hide. An Arbok and a Weezing loomed at their side.
"So it's you," the Team Rocket executive said, looking the young man up and down. "Not bad. You've got sharp instincts. But let's see how long that lasts."
"Team Rocket?" The young man's brows drew together at the black uniform and the huge red R. "Who did I 'kill'? I don't even know what you're talking about."
"Still playing dumb?" The executive sneered. "Two squad leaders came here to kidnap Travis. You didn't expect us to investigate when they vanished, did you?"
The young man finally connected the dots. Travis had been rescued from poachers, then someone had intercepted Team Rocket's kidnapping attempt and wiped out the kidnappers. That "someone" was Rai. And now, because he'd come asking questions, Team Rocket had mistaken him for the same man.
"I get it now," he said quietly.
"You get what?" The executive frowned.
"You're here for Rai," the young man said, keeping his voice steady. "I'm not taking the blame for whatever happened to your people."
"Rai?" The executive looked genuinely confused. "Who's that?"
"The trainer who saved Travis from your Team Rocket kidnappers." The young man straightened. "I'm a trainer from the Kumquat Gym. If you want a fight, say it plainly."
The executive's lips curled. "A Gym trainer? That explains why you looked so shocked when you saw me. So you didn't find him either."
"No." The young man's jaw tightened. "I came to thank him. You came to hunt him. That makes us enemies."
"Enemies?" The executive laughed, like he'd heard a joke. "You're just a Gym dog. You think you're worth my time?"
"I'm also a League trainer," the young man snapped back. "You're awfully arrogant for someone wearing a criminal uniform."
"League or not, you'll all end up under Team Rocket's boot," the executive said, eyes bright with a feverish certainty.
That was enough. The young man stopped arguing. There was no reasoning with someone this far gone.
"Fine," he said. "If you want to fight, then fight."
The executive stared at him for a moment—then the heat drained from his face. He scoffed, turned, and started walking away.
"You don't know where Rai is," he said over his shoulder. "So what would I gain by wasting time on you?"
He wasn't wrong. Team Rocket didn't survive by picking pointless battles. If there was no payoff, they didn't bleed for it.
When the executive disappeared into the dusk, the young man exhaled hard. He'd braced for a brutal fight. Instead, the man came in loud, swung once, then simply… left.
Inside the cabin, Quincy waited until the killing intent outside had thinned to nothing. Only then did he ease the door open and peer out. If those two trainers had actually clashed, Farfetch'd and Heracross wouldn't have been enough to keep him safe.
Thankfully, it hadn't come to that.
Quincy stepped out and saw the young man recalling his Pokémon.
"Mr. Quincy, I'm sorry," the young man said quickly. "I almost dragged trouble to your doorstep."
"Hmph." Quincy took a slow pull on his pipe. "You hurt?"
"No. I'm fine." The young man hesitated, then bowed again. "I ran into Team Rocket here. I need to return and report immediately. I can't stay."
"Go on, then."
He started to leave, then paused and turned back one last time, speaking as if it were concern rather than a probe.
"Mr. Quincy… Team Rocket is searching for Rai. If you can contact him, you should warn him."
Quincy's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Don't worry about that kid. He's got teeth. A whole poacher crew vanished after crossing him. Those two Team Rocket goons vanished too. Nobody's keeping him here if he doesn't want to be kept."
It was a warning, wrapped in casual words: push too far, and you might not walk away.
The young man understood.
"Thank you for the warning, sir."
He mounted his Pidgeot and took off into the night, heading back toward Kumquat Island. He'd flown all day already, and now he'd be flying all night. Even with long glides, it was still rough on the bird.
Once this mission was done, he promised himself, he'd treat Pidgeot to some spicy strips.
…
While the Gym trainer flew through the night, Reiji arrived at Pummelo Island.
This was Orange League HQ, home to Pummelo Stadium—where Ash had beaten Drake.
Reiji wasn't here for nostalgia. The moment he checked in, he dropped 100,000 Pokédollars on a spacious suite, then collapsed onto the soft white bed like he'd been waiting for it for days.
He planned to sleep first, then sort dinner for his Pokémon. Pelipper had flown for hours too and was resting inside its Poké Ball. They'd eat together later.
He'd only just closed his eyes when Darkrai nudged him awake.
"Something's moving in your backpack," Darkrai said. It could sense the disturbance, but not what it was. Not from inside the bag.
Reiji groaned and dragged the backpack over. He couldn't think of anything alive in there.
He opened it.
White light blasted out so hard it made him squint.
He froze—then remembered the timing. That brown Pokémon Egg had been incubating for two months now. Sixty days.
It was finally glowing.
Reiji rushed to the window, yanked the curtains shut, then cranked the room lights to full to drown out the glare. Only then did he take out the incubator and watch the brown Egg pulse with light.
Half an hour passed.
It kept glowing.
He couldn't make sense of it. He didn't even know when the glow had started—only that it wasn't stopping.
Then he remembered one detail about this Egg: it liked electricity.
"Fine. Let's try it."
He plugged the incubator in.
Sparks snapped the instant the cable connected. The port flashed, the power line scorched, and the plug jerked loose as the hotel room went dark.
The whole building went out.
The Egg didn't stop glowing. If anything, it got brighter—then slowly, slowly dimmed.
Reiji yanked the Egg out of the incubator and held it carefully, waiting.
It didn't take long.
The shell cracked in his hands, and a tiny, fluffy thing slid out—soft under his fingers, like downy feathers.
A moment later, the hotel's main power returned. The room lights flickered wildly, then steadied.
Reiji looked down at the newborn in his hands.
"Uh… Spearow?" he muttered. "Why is it grey…?"
His brain stalled. Sixty days of incubation, and what popped out was a mottled little bird? That didn't make sense at all. Spearow shouldn't take that long—and Spearow definitely didn't have a thing for electricity.
The chick blinked up at him.
"Chirp…"
It stared at Reiji as if trying to decide what he was, then curled into his chest and fell asleep on the spot.
It was tiny—too tiny. Its "feathers" were barely more than baby fluff, with no real plumage yet.
Reiji sighed. "Alright. Spearow it is. A premature shiny Spearow… not the worst."
He'd guessed Spearow because the beak was sharp, not curved like Pidgey's. The neck fluff looked puffier too, not sleek and tidy.
Still, more than two months was absurd. He couldn't explain it.
He slid the sleeping chick into a Poké Ball and pulled up its panel, wanting to see the proficiency screen.
[Zapdos (Premature)]
[Type: Electric/Flying]
[Gender: Male]
[Potential: 58.89%]
[Level: 1.01%]
[Ability: Pressure/0.53%][Hidden Ability: Static/0.13%]
[Moves: (Peck/0.21%) (Thunder Wave/0.31%)]
Author note: Zapdos is genderless, so I changed it to male here…
[End of chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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