Chương 8: Teeth Behind a Smile

Gideon summoned Rine before he reached the base. The message redirected him to a disused ticket office beneath Saffron Central Station. Its public entrance had been sealed for years, but his Rocket Watch unlocked a maintenance door beside the tracks. Cassian waited inside with Ekans coiled around his boots. Gideon sat behind the dusty counter. Rine stopped three paces into the room. Houndour positioned herself beside his left leg without being commanded.

"Collection Order Nineteen-R," Gideon said.

"Incomplete."

"The target had already paid."

"According to whom?"

"According to the target." Cassian laughed.

"A criminal organization nearly toppled by the testimony of a noodle seller." Rine looked at him.

"Did he pay you?" Ekans raised its head.

"Watch your tone," Cassian said.

"That is why we are here," Gideon interrupted.

"Competing accounts create waste. Waste requires correction." He activated a screen. Haruto's protection ledger appeared, showing two missed payments and no record of Cassian's visit. Rine's mission report occupied one side. Cassian's earlier collection route occupied the other.

"Mr. Voss states that he visited Lucky Noodle but recovered nothing."

"Then he won't mind being audited." The faint smile disappeared from Cassian's face. Rine felt rather than saw Houndour's reaction. Her Dark energy gathered close to her skin, a warning pressure. Gideon folded his hands.

"Do you possess evidence?" Rine had the shopkeeper's statement. Revealing it would prove Cassian lied—and identify Haruto as the source. Cassian would retaliate whether Team Rocket punished him or not. Haruto and Mei would pay for Rine's victory.

"No," Rine said. Cassian's smile returned. Gideon watched Rine for several seconds. Identify brushed the surface of his expression and produced nothing but controlled interest.

"Then your insinuation is operationally useless. The mission remains incomplete. You will return tomorrow and produce either payment or a result with equivalent value."

"Understood."

"Voss will accompany you." Cassian looked sharply toward Gideon.

"Is there a problem?" Gideon asked.

"No, sir." The lesson was obvious. Gideon did not need to know who was lying. He wanted pressure applied until one recruit exposed a weakness the other could exploit. As Rine turned to leave, Ekans struck. The snake crossed half the room before its control cable snapped tight. Its jaws closed inches from Houndour's muzzle. Houndour reacted with Thunder Shock. Electricity burst from her body in a wild sphere. The ticket-office lights exploded.

Rine's insulated gloves protected his hands, but current traveled through the leash and locked his shoulder. Cassian swore. Ekans convulsed against the cable. Emergency lights flickered on. Houndour crouched, panting through her muzzle. Smoke lifted from the golden marks along her ribs. Cassian kicked Ekans hard enough to roll it across the floor.

"Useless thing." Rine moved before he thought. He caught Cassian's ankle on the second kick and shoved him backward. Ekans recoiled beneath the counter. Cassian looked down at Rine's hand.

"Touch me again." It was an invitation, not a warning. Rine released him. Gideon had not risen.

"Houndour initiated an uncontrolled area discharge. Ekans broke formation. Both are failures of training."

"He ordered Ekans to strike," Rine said.

"Prove it." There it was again. Team Rocket did not care what happened. It cared what could be demonstrated, monetized, or used.

"Training Ring Three," Gideon continued.

"Tomorrow evening. Sanctioned match. The victor receives the disputed route and two hundred credits. The loser receives a recorded concession and reassignment from collection work." Cassian smiled.

"Accepted." Rine looked at Houndour. She was still hurting from the discharge. Ekans had at least four levels of development on her and more battle experience. Accepting was foolish. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Declining would give Cassian access to Haruto's shop without oversight.

"Accepted." Back at the cell, Rine removed Houndour's muzzle and examined her. The electrical pathways along her spine were inflamed. Her heart rate remained elevated. Identify estimated she needed forty-eight hours without another full discharge. The match was in twenty-three. Rine opened the move analysis. Houndour knew Leer, Ember, and Thunder Shock. None was mastered. She could bite, tackle, run, and hunt by instinct, but those actions were not formal techniques.

Ekans likely knew Wrap, Leer, Poison Sting, and Bite. Its flexible body made electrical paralysis valuable, but relying on Thunder Shock risked Houndour's life.

"We don't use it," Rine said. Houndour lay on the grounding mat.

"No lightning." Her ear moved. Rine placed a chalk circle on the floor and rolled a rubber training ball across it. Houndour watched the ball strike the wall.

"Back." She stood and retreated.

"Come." She approached. He repeated the exercise, altering direction and speed. The commands were not attacks. They were pieces of movement. Rine paired left and right with hand signals, then taught low by passing food beneath a horizontal bar. Houndour tired after twenty minutes. They rested for forty. Training could not be compressed merely because danger arrived early. During the second session, Rine introduced Ember. Houndour's first attempt splashed fire across the wall. Her second failed entirely.

On the third, Rine held up a strip of hanging paper rather than a solid target.

"Small." Houndour sneezed sparks. The bottom edge of the paper caught fire.

"Good." Her head tilted. Rine repeated the word and offered meat. By midnight, she could produce a brief, narrow Ember without heating the entire cell. The move lacked power. That was precisely the point. Ekans depended upon smell and the detection of ground vibration. Smoke could disrupt one. Erratic footwork could confuse the other. Rine did not need Houndour to overpower a larger Pokémon. He needed her to refuse the battle Cassian expected. They slept. Near morning, Rine dreamed of Tomas.

This time, they stood outside the Pewter Gym. Tomas wore a new jacket and complained about the cold. Rine knew he was dead but did not say so, because saying it would end the dream. Tomas looked at Houndour.

"You haven't named her."

"She hasn't told me her name."

"That isn't how names work."

"Maybe it should be." Tomas laughed. Rine woke with tears cooling against his face. Houndour lay beside the bed rather than on her mat. Three steps away. The same distance she had chosen before. Rine wiped his face before rising. She had already smelled the grief. Pretending otherwise was for humans.

"We have a fight." Houndour stood. For the first time, the prospect seemed to excite rather than frighten her. That worried him most of all. The remainder of the day exposed how little a plan meant without conditioning. Houndour understood left when Rine stood in front of her. From behind, the same command made her turn toward his voice. Hand signals failed whenever smoke obscured him.

Her attention collapsed after several repetitions, and the injured pathways along her spine began glowing before she showed any other sign of fatigue. Rine stopped each session early. The Rocket training guide advised continuing until refusal, then applying correction. He deleted it.

Instead, he constructed a map of what Houndour could reliably accomplish: Recall under moderate stress: inconsistent Come: reliable within ten meters Wait: reliable for approximately four seconds Back: reliable without active pursuit Left/right: visual cue required Ember: low accuracy, moderate control Thunder Shock: prohibited pending recovery Battle exposure: one uncontrolled encounter Against Ekans's greater level, experience, and physical maturity, the list was pathetic. Rine sought information.

The base archive contained public Pokédex entries and internal reports. Ekans hunted through vibration and scent. Its jaw could dislocate to swallow large prey, while the muscles along its body made Wrap dangerous even at modest levels. Poison Sting was less lethal than a full bite but could weaken Houndour quickly. Houndour's triple typing offered no simple advantage. Fire and Dark dealt ordinary damage to Poison. Electric did the same, assuming she could use it safely.

Ekans resisted toxic environments better, while Houndour possessed greater natural speed that her malnutrition had not yet restored. Rine found footage of Cassian's earlier missions. He watched without sound. Cassian issued rapid commands and punished hesitation through the collar. Ekans attacked efficiently while the instruction remained simple. When circumstances changed, it looked toward Cassian before acting—not for guidance but to anticipate punishment. Fear had produced obedience.

It had not produced judgment. Rine slowed one recording. During a collection, a shopkeeper's Meowth darted behind Ekans. Cassian ordered Bite. Ekans pursued so completely that it exposed Cassian to the shopkeeper's wooden club. Tunnel attention.

"We can use that," Rine said. Houndour chewed the corner of the fireproof blanket. Rine traded thirty credits for access to a scent diffuser. He loaded it with a harmless bitter solution and placed food behind a hanging cloth. Houndour had to locate the meal while the unfamiliar scent interfered. She initially attempted to eat the diffuser. After Rine moved it beyond reach, she learned to lower her nose, use air currents, and search around the distraction. The exercise had little to do with Ekans.

It taught her that confused senses did not require panic. During a rest period, Iona Kreel appeared at the observation slit. Her Zubat clung to one shoulder, wings folded around its body. Iona had spoken fewer than ten words since the arena.

"Cassian bribed the evaluator in his last match," she said. Rine looked toward the camera.

"Why tell me?"

"He killed my brother's partner."

"Cassian?"

"Gideon." That answer carried a different weight. Iona slid a folded strip of paper beneath the door. Physical paper could not be traced through the Rocket Watch. It contained the names of three recruits Cassian paid, two guards who accepted favors, and a notation beside the medical-disposal worker who supplied stimulants.

"What do you want?" Rine asked.

"Him below me."

"That's all?" Iona's expression did not change.

"For now." She walked away. Rine burned the paper after memorizing it. The orphanage had taught them partnership. Team Rocket taught alliances: temporary structures assembled around compatible interests and dismantled before they became weaknesses. Tomas would have trusted Iona because she offered help. Rine trusted only the consistency of her hatred. He did not know whether that made him wiser or merely damaged. Before sleeping, Rine reviewed the rules with Houndour one final time.

He placed chalk marks on the floor and moved through them himself, demonstrating the turns until he felt ridiculous. Houndour watched with her head tilted.

"Tomas would enjoy this," Rine said. The name hurt less when spoken aloud and more afterward. He described Tomas to her: the stolen bread, the impossible travel plans, the belief that every Fighting-type could be befriended through wrestling. Houndour listened because his voice was familiar, not because the words carried meaning.

"He would have liked you." Rine stopped. Tomas might also have resented her. Rine had survived the arena and received the partner they intended to seek together. Grief did not require the dead to become perfect.

"Eventually," he amended. Houndour yawned, displaying all her teeth, and rested her head on the blanket. Rine dimmed the light. Tomorrow's battle might teach her that his commands led toward pain. It might reinforce every lesson Team Rocket had already carved into her. Winning could cost more than the route was worth. He promised himself he would stop the match if that happened. The promise survived until sleep. Whether it would survive Cassian was another question. Rine woke twice before the scheduled match.

The first time, Houndour was drinking. The second, she stood at the door listening to Ekans move somewhere in the neighboring corridor. He joined her without turning on the light. Predator and prey were roles decided by circumstance. Houndour had been both before she was old enough to understand either. In the morning, Team Rocket would demand she become one again for entertainment and rank. Rine rested his hand near—not on—her shoulder.

"We leave together," he said. Houndour's golden markings pulsed once in the darkness. It was not an answer in any human language. Rine accepted it as one regardless. When morning arrived, he cleaned the old blood from his knife, returned it to its sheath, and hoped he would not need it.