–+–
Bugsy’s request for more Apricorn Poké Balls was entirely within Sera’s expectations.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any on hand right now.”
In truth, Sera hadn’t been keen on crafting more Apricorn Balls lately.
Though she could churn them out with incredible speed, she was wary of the concern she’d had before: if she flooded the market with her own supply, the volume of orders for Master Kurt would inevitably dwindle.
“How about this?”
After offering a polite refusal, Sera thought for a moment and added, “If Gym Leader Bugsy doesn’t mind the wait, you can give me your requirements, and I’ll craft them for you when I have the time.
How does that sound?”
“No problem at all!”
Having her request accepted at all was a pleasant surprise.
Bugsy was well-accustomed to the eccentric temperaments of various craftsmen, and seeing how easy-going Sera was, he felt a wave of relief.
As expected of the apprentice Mr.
Kurt keeps praising—she speaks of crafting Apricorn Balls as if it were nothing!
“Then, I shall look forward to Gym Leader Bugsy’s formal order,” Sera said with a nod, offering a follow-up.
“Also, I can use the Apricorns you provide yourself, so feel free to bring those along if you have them.”
“That would be fantastic!”
The young Gym Leader’s expression turned even more enthusiastic.
It was a well-known fact that not every craftsman could consistently produce quality Apricorn Balls.
Even Kurt, the finest master in the Johto region, could usually only manage to produce one a day.
For others, manual crafting often resulted in “by-products” like Great Balls, Ultra Balls, or just standard Poké Balls.
Some craftsmen even sold basic, mass-produced style Poké Balls they’d cobbled together—items that lacked any special effects and were often prone to defects compared to machine-made versions.
To ensure consistency and, more importantly, to protect their reputation, many craftsmen strictly refused outside materials, sticking only to reliable, high-grade berries.
However, the truly seasoned veterans had a different philosophy.
Kurt, for instance, had a habit of using the Apricorns trainers brought themselves, believing that such Poké Balls were truly unique creations that belonged to the trainer alone.
Thinking of this, Sera’s casual offer to do custom work shot her up in Bugsy’s estimation.
Sera herself didn’t think much of it.
She used her psychic powers to craft the balls; she never had to worry about failure, so as long as the buyer was willing to shoulder the cost of the materials, she was happy to oblige.
After bidding farewell to Bugsy, Sera turned and headed home.
With most of her tasks handled, all that remained for the next few days was to select one of the trainers from her escort missions, and then she would be ready to set out on her journey.
In the games, Ecruteak was a city of legend, representing centuries of Johto’s history—she couldn’t help but wonder what those twin towers, which held such weight in folklore, would look like in reality.
She was truly looking forward to seeing those sights with her own eyes.
–+–
Kitakami, Mossui Town.
In contrast to the relaxed girl in Johto, Kieran’s sister, Carmine, knelt before her grandfather, grumbling internally.
Why do I have to be the one getting lectured?
“What were you thinking, heading to Oni Mountain all by yourself to go on some adventure!”
The old man was breathless, his voice stern.
“I thought only Kieran was this reckless, but you, as his older sister—how can you treat the village legends with such disregard?”
“But…
I didn’t think it was that dangerous,” Carmine couldn’t help but interject.
It was true.
Even though she had actually encountered the legendary “oni” and sustained a small injury, after fleeing home, she had carefully mulled it over.
If the oni were truly as brutal as the stories claimed, and had used its full strength to pursue her, there was no way she could have gotten away with just a few scratches.
Even her Vulpix had only fainted from exhaustion.
Was the legendary monster really as terrifying as they said?
“I just don’t get it,” Carmine muttered.
Not wanting to keep her doubts bottled up, she looked her grandfather straight in the eye.
“I really did meet the masked oni, and in the end, I wasn’t even hurt.”
“Everyone says the oni is a violent beast.
They say a long time ago, it came to the village to wreak havoc, and the Loyal Three drove it away to save us.”
“Ever since then, they say it’s been lurking outside the village.
They say if you run into it after dusk, it will steal your soul, and you’ll never return to the village again.”
Facts spoke louder than words.
Carmine knew she had encountered the oni, and she had returned safely.
So, between the village legends and her own experience, which one was the truth?
The old man’s eyes widened.
It took a moment for him to process what his granddaughter had just said.
“You met…
the oni?”
He fell silent for a long time, then let out a heavy, weary sigh.
“I had no idea it was still wandering the trails of Oni Mountain.”
“Is that such a strange thing?” Carmine asked, confused.
Even though she was full of doubts, the legend of the oni on the mountain had been part of the village lore since she was a child. Find the original chapter at g.com.
“You think it’s normal only because you don’t know the real history,” the old man said, his expression deepening with sorrow.
“I never wanted to tell you this, but since you’ve encountered Ogerpon…
it’s time you heard the truth.”
The sudden weight of his words left Carmine stunned.
Her previous outburst had just been an act of frustration; she hadn’t actually expected an answer.
But her grandfather was showing a level of calm and understanding that transcended common reason.
“The real history…” Carmine repeated the words, feeling a shiver go down her spine.
She realized she was about to hear a truth that would shatter everything she had ever believed.
“Yes.
The true history passed down through our family is the exact opposite of the legends shared by the village.”
The old man didn’t beat around the bush; he told her the answer directly.
What followed was a long, harrowing story.
By the time he finished, he refilled his tea, leaving Carmine in a state of absolute fury.
She felt an intense, burning rage.
That creature with the hideous, mocking mask had only attacked to push back her Vulpix; in truth, neither of them had been seriously harmed.
No—she should call her Ogerpon.
Carmine now knew the oni’s true name.
According to the legends of Kitakami, Ogerpon possessed four brilliant, magical masks, and the club she wielded changed depending on which mask she wore: the teal Teal Mask that could revive withered plants; the crimson Hearthflame Mask that could make flames roar; the azure Wellspring Mask that could bring rivers to a standstill; and the gray Cornerstone Mask that granted her the power to crush boulders.
These masks had originally belonged to Ogerpon.
Legend claimed the Loyal Three worshiped by the village had snatched three of the masks to seal away the evil oni’s power.
But in reality, those three “loyal” heroes had simply stolen them.
That was why Ogerpon had flown into a rage, stormed down the mountain, and struck them down.
“…So we’ve been worshipping those thieves for hundreds of years?” Carmine asked, unable to believe it.
The old man sighed deeply.
“History fades over time.
Even if it’s wrong, the people of this village prefer to believe the lie.
If they were to admit the truth, Kitakami, which relies on tourism, would face total ruin.
Our ancestors were persecuted for this very reason.”
“So, remember,” he cautioned, “never speak of this to outsiders.”
–+–