Cheap shot?
Even if that patronizing remark were true, it was deeply unpleasant.
But with Aron by his side, Kashiwagi suddenly felt an illusion of hope—perhaps lasting three minutes wasn't a dream after all.
Unfortunately...
"Not even a moment! To talk things over!"
Kashiwagi dodged Machamp's punches with all his might and flung Aron to safety.
Although his opponent didn't give him time to negotiate, it was clear Machamp was holding back. For example, it only used its lower pair of fists, its attacks were less intense, and it refrained from using any moves.
To protect Aron?
Perhaps it was more likely out of Machamp's pity.
What's the point of this charade? Just to beat him up? Impossible! If the top-ranking officer had that much free time, the Sand Team wouldn't still exist!
"Find an opening and ram into its legs!"
Kashiwagi shouted as he narrowly dodged a left hook, but he couldn't avoid the lightning-fast right uppercut that came immediately after. It was so fast it seemed to gleam.
Thud!
"Ah!"
An indescribable dull pain filled his senses as agony surged from his abdomen into his brain. His back slammed against the steel cage of the octagonal ring, his body bending like a boiled shrimp. He almost bit his tongue.
Such a quick combo!
This thing's level was definitely high!
Protect your chin!
He hastily raised his arms, but the next moment, a searing sensation spread through his right arm, followed by overwhelming force. The burning pain felt like his muscles were being ripped apart, and he was knocked to the ground.
Smack.
His body convulsed a few times.
In his mind, he had envisioned a heroic comeback—barely surviving with a sliver of health, seamlessly cooperating with Aron, and even taking down Machamp with brute force.
But in reality, he didn't even last half a minute. He didn't even have time to signal Aron.
Not far away, Aron saw Kashiwagi go down and launched a desperate attack on Machamp. Yet, it was as if Machamp had eyes in the back of its head. It dodged effortlessly and grabbed Aron by the head with one hand.
"Grr—"
Machamp casually blocked the mud Aron spat out with its other hand.
Throw Mud? It only works if it lands.
"Cough… Put it down… I surrender."
Kashiwagi struggled to sit up. The throbbing in his chest and the pain in his right arm made it hard to speak.
Nevertheless, he mustered his strength to tear off his gloves with his teeth. As Machamp looked at him in confusion, he used the last of his strength to recall Aron into its Poké Ball.
After shrinking the ball and cradling it protectively, he curled up to shield his vital organs and tapped the mat with his right hand.
This was the universal signal for surrender.
He chose to give up because the difference in their abilities was glaringly obvious. Continuing would only mean taking a needless beating. While he had confidence in his endurance, a ruptured spleen could mean instant death.
Silence.
For a long moment, there was no response. Then Kashiwagi heard the man's voice.
"Get up."
Slowly, Kashiwagi straightened his body and saw the man squatting in front of him. He placed a water bottle and a towel less than a meter away, while Machamp silently left the ring.
The man asked, "Anything you want to say?"
Kashiwagi didn't drink the water. Instead, he wiped the sweat from his face with the towel. "…No."
"Weaklings have no right to speak. How do you feel about that?"
"It's the truth."
"You've embarrassed Chester, hurt his subordinates, and disrupted his plans. The Crystal Team is bound to come after you. What will you do about it?"
"…Fight back."
"Hah, like you fought back today?"
"…"
"You're alive and well now because someone up top has taken a liking to you."
The man sat down casually, as if he hadn't just set Kashiwagi up. His tone was calm: "But that person's interest is limited. The moment they forget about you, it'll be your end."
"…I'd appreciate your guidance."
Despite the pain in his abdomen, Kashiwagi forced himself to maintain a respectful tone.
"Next week, we have a Pokémon battle against the Mad Dogs. Win, and you'll become a squad leader in the Sand Team. I'll have your back. Lose, and you're on your own. Any questions?"
The man's voice was serene, but his gaze swept over Kashiwagi's body, exuding a terrifying sense of danger, like a predator sizing up its prey.
Extreme danger!
He could be attacked at any moment—escape was impossible!
Kashiwagi felt his heart pounding wildly. Taking a deep breath, he replied, "No, Ao Shirō, sir."
"Hm?"
"…Boss."
"Good. Off you go."
With a dismissive wave from Ao Shirō, Kashiwagi clutched his abdomen and left the ring.
Machamp, sipping water nearby, watched Kashiwagi's retreating figure. It glanced at Ao Shirō, who sat in silence within the octagonal cage, and let out a resigned sigh.
This old routine again—wouldn't he ever tire of it?
Still, that kid was a natural at dodging. It had even thrown in a Bullet Punch to land a hit.
A real talent.
Just what the Sand Team needed.
Outside the Ring
Kashiwagi hadn't gone far when he saw his escort.
"Hey, got beat up?"
The man wasn't surprised by Kashiwagi's disheveled state. He grinned and asked, "Who hit you? How many punches?"
"…Machamp. Two punches."
"Not tough enough, huh? You need to work on that. Whether you're a grunt or a trainer, you've got to handle a beating."
The man walked to a nearby vending machine, bought two energy drinks, and tossed one to Kashiwagi. "This one's on me."
"Thanks."
Kashiwagi caught it, hesitated for a moment, and opened it.
The cold drink slid down his throat, soothing him. Even the pain in his abdomen seemed to ease.
"I might not be the best person to say this," the man suddenly began, "but if the boss was willing to meet you, it means he sees potential in you."
"Mm."
"His methods are for your own good. Don't let him down."
"I understand."
"Good. Take a walk around. The Underground City's got some interesting spots. I've got stuff to do, so I'll leave you to it."
The man tossed his empty bottle on the ground and hurried off.
Wait—
Kashiwagi wanted to ask about some intel, but the man disappeared around a corner before he could speak.
Left alone, Kashiwagi stared blankly at the rough concrete floor.
Elsewhere
The escort entered a room and closed the door behind him.
"How'd it go?"
Someone approached and asked.
The escort shook his head. "I'm not sure how to describe it. This kid… He's not like the others we've dealt with before."
"I just hope he doesn't resent the boss too much. And the boss—every time he takes a liking to someone, he pulls this kind of stunt, like he's pushing them away."
The other man sighed.
"Resent him? Probably not. The kid seems pretty sharp," the escort added with a sigh of his own.
Dealing with such a chaotic boss was tough for them too.
Still, their job was to support him, no matter what.
Life was hard.
Back Outside
Kachak.
The Poké Ball opened.
Aron landed on the ground and immediately rushed to Kashiwagi's feet, growling anxiously.
"Grr! Grr!"
"It's fine, it's fine. We're both okay. Don't worry."
Kashiwagi crouched down, gently stroking Aron's head and back to calm it.
The human physique in this Pokémon world was truly remarkable.
During the fight, he felt like he was dying, but now, aside from some bruises and a faint ache in his arm, he felt completely fine.
Once it saw Kashiwagi was genuinely unharmed, Aron finally relaxed and let out a soft cry.
"Grr?"
"You're asking why I got beat up? It's simple. This is a form of leadership—something called workplace PUA. They break your pride with words or violence, then show you a little kindness, saying it's all for your own good…"
Kashiwagi sighed, patting Aron's head.
They beat you up because they appreciate you. After leaving you bruised and battered, they throw you a bone. It was like giving a slap and then offering a piece of candy.
Aron looked indignant.
"Grr!"
"You think he's a bad guy? Well, for now, he's not great. But people can't be judged so easily."
Kashiwagi shook his head. "Even if his methods are harsh, the fact that someone of his rank bothers to spend time on us nobodies shows a level of recognition.
"Besides, he'll probably keep his word and back us up. In that sense, his workplace PUA was successful. We got beaten up, but we'll remember to be grateful."
Aron looked utterly confused.
It really didn't understand.
"You don't have to get it. Just remember—here, the only one we can truly trust is each other. Everyone else has their own agenda." Kashiwagi hugged Aron tightly.
Aron nuzzled him gently in return.
Ao Shirō's tactics were as transparent as they were effective.
Even though Kashiwagi could see through them, he couldn't deny Ao Shirō's authority as boss.
Still, it didn't mean he had to like it.
Who enjoyed taking punches for no reason?
Unfortunately, Ao Shirō wasn't just any leader—he was the kind of boss who could command respect by sheer strength, like a triad kingpin from a Hong Kong film. Soft methods wouldn't cut it here.
A mix of grace and power was the only way to rule.
As for the things Ao Shirō said, Kashiwagi wasn't naive enough to believe them outright.
They might be true. They might not.
Sometimes, a statement that's 90% true and 10% false can be just as misleading.
A place like Quincy Street didn't nurture good people. It wasn't Pallet Town or Littleroot Town. Staying vigilant was a matter of survival.
Would Chester really try to kill him? Were those troublemakers on the surface sent by the Crystal Team?
What plan had he disrupted? Could someone like Shibata actually hold an important role?
And who was the person "up top" with a favorable impression of him? Someone from the upper echelons of the Sand Team, perhaps?
Was that why Ishigaki's attitude had changed so drastically?
And then there was the match next week.
The Sand Team and the Mad Dogs had always been rivals, their grudge rooted in disputes over mining operations. Over time, their enmity had only deepened.
Having just acquired a Pokémon, Kashiwagi's chances of victory seemed slim.
"This is one crisis after another."
Kashiwagi lifted Aron's chin. "I never thought that becoming an official member would be even more troublesome than being a grunt."
At least as a grunt, his only enemy had been Shibata.
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