A muscular man in a short-sleeved shirt pushed a small cart toward the assembled newcomers.
Kuroba immediately recognized him.
Furuta.
Unlike Kuroba, the other boys lowered their heads and avoided the man’s gaze.
Everyone aboard the Great Shark knew Furuta had spent his entire life at sea.
He had never even set foot on the mainland.
That lifetime of experience had given him an extraordinary ability to read waves, currents, weather, and wind direction.
The crew called him the “eyes” of the Great Shark.
The captain valued that talent greatly and was even considering promoting him to become the ship’s third first mate.
“Heh. Look at you rookies,” Furuta teased.
“Excited? Nervous? Can’t wait anymore?”
His joking only made the boys more tense.
“All right. When I call your name, come up and choose one!”
Furuta grabbed the cloth covering the cart and pulled it away.
Twenty Poké Balls gleamed beneath the sunlight.
Every newcomer stared at them with burning eyes.
Kuroba’s attention immediately settled on the two Poké Balls at the far left.
There were ten balls in each of two rows.
From the outside, there was almost no way to distinguish one from another.
To the newcomers, the selection appeared to be pure luck.
Whatever Pokémon was inside the ball they chose would become theirs.
There would be no exchanges.
“First—Kuroba!”
The other boys looked at him enviously when his name was called.
The veteran pirates watching from nearby, however, seemed completely unsurprised.
Kuroba calmly approached the cart, swept his gaze across the Poké Balls, and chose the leftmost ball from the upper row.
“Please give me something good.”
He closed his fingers tightly around the ball.
“Next, Nagashima!”
Another boy stepped forward.
“Next!”
One after another, the newcomers chose their Pokémon.
According to Madam Meta’s hint, the farther left a Poké Ball was, the better the Pokémon inside should be.
Kuroba watched one boy he had gotten along with during the past year reach toward the right side.
His lips parted.
For an instant, he considered warning him.
Then he closed his mouth.
Soon, all twenty Poké Balls had been taken.
Kuroba could barely suppress his impatience.
He wanted to know what was inside his immediately.
“Hahaha! Starting today, you’re no longer rookies,” Furuta announced.
“Pass the assessment this afternoon, and you’ll officially become pirates!”
The excitement on the boys’ faces instantly stiffened.
After they were dismissed, the veteran pirates returned to their posts while the newcomers remained on deck.
For once, they had free time.
After an entire year of exhausting labor, this was effectively the first holiday they had received.
“Come out, my Pokémon! Oh! It’s a Taillow!”
“Mine’s a Carvanha!”
The boys excitedly released their new partners.
The results were not entirely pleasant.
“Help! Aaaagh!”
One boy collapsed onto the deck.
A Carvanha had clamped its jaws around his arm and was tearing viciously into his flesh.
Its teeth were razor-sharp, its jaws terrifyingly powerful.
The surrounding boys stumbled backward in horror.
Weren’t Pokémon supposed to obey once a Trainer gave them an order?
Kuroba had no interest in explaining reality to them, and even less interest in rescuing the screaming boy.
He quietly moved behind the crowd and disappeared from the deck.
* * *
Kuroba returned to the lowest cabin, where the newcomers normally slept.
At last, he was alone.
He held the Poké Ball in front of him, unable to hide the anticipation in his voice.
“Come out. My first Pokémon.”
A flash of white light filled the cabin.
A Corphish appeared.
“Cor! Cor!”
The little Pokémon immediately raised its pincers, glaring at Kuroba warily.
Kuroba forced his expression to remain gentle.
Then he slowly reached into his pocket and took out a bright blue Pokéblock.
“I had to save for ages before I could buy this Water-type beginner Pokéblock from Furuta.”
He crouched down.
“Come on, Corphish. Try one. You must be starving.”
His method for gaining Corphish’s trust was painfully simple.
Food.
Considering his current circumstances, however, he had no better option.
As for subduing it by force…
Kuroba looked at the Corphish standing more than half a meter tall, then at its enormous pincers.
Absolutely not.
Corphish stared at the blue Pokéblock.
Its delicious scent gradually overwhelmed its fear of the unfamiliar human.
“Cor…”
It snatched the Pokéblock with a pincer and stuffed it into its mouth.
The instant it tasted the food, the vigilance on its face melted into delight.
Its eyes narrowed happily as it made a satisfied sound.
Kuroba smiled.
“Don’t rush. I still have a few more. Listen to me from now on, and I promise you’ll never have to worry about Pokéblocks again.”
Kuroba immediately began selling his new partner a glorious dream of the future.
Corphish had never encountered anyone quite like him.
Its resistance crumbled almost immediately.
A Corphish would never surrender!
Unless food and lodging were included.
“Cor! Cor!”
Corphish waved its pincers enthusiastically.
“One day, the two of us are going to dominate the world!”
By the time Kuroba finished talking, his mouth was dry.
Yet seeing the worshipful look on Corphish’s face made his own anticipation rise.
“Now, Corphish, show me the moves you know. Just remember—don’t destroy the cabin.”
It was time to establish a little authority as a Trainer.
“Cor!”
A pale white sheen spread across Corphish’s body.
“Harden.”
Kuroba nodded immediately.
“Anything else?”
Corphish raised both pincers and snapped them forcefully at the air.
“Vice Grip. Not bad.”
He praised it without hesitation.
They were only basic moves, but Kuroba had no reason to discourage his first Pokémon.
“Cor!”
Corphish bounced excitedly.
Then it opened its pincers and released a cloud of watery bubbles.
“Cough—okay, okay! Stop!”
Kuroba hurriedly waved his arms through the bubbles, popping them before they filled the cabin.
“That should be Bubble. If it were Bubble Beam, it would be much more forceful.”
He thought carefully.
So far, Corphish had demonstrated Harden, Vice Grip, and Bubble.
“Cor! Cor!”
Corphish cried out urgently, trying to attract his attention.
Kuroba looked over.
Water suddenly wrapped around Corphish’s body as it lowered itself into a charging stance.
Kuroba’s eyes widened.
“That’s—!”
Before the move could fully form, the water scattered.
The move had failed.
Even so, Kuroba was thrilled.
That had clearly been an inherited move.
Judging by the way water had surrounded Corphish’s body, it looked very much like Aqua Jet.
“Excellent! Corphish, you really are talented. Keep this up and we’ll definitely make something of ourselves!”
Kuroba resumed painting an increasingly ridiculous picture of their future.
Corphish listened with growing excitement.
There was one thing it did not tell its new Trainer.
Another strange move seemed to exist somewhere in its instincts, but it could not use it no matter how hard it tried.
Even stranger, the move apparently required it to perform some bizarre dance.
Corphish could not understand it at all.
* * *
The morning passed quickly.
By afternoon, the newcomers had gathered on the deck for their assessment.
There was one fewer boy than before.
Kuroba’s eyes moved toward a stain on the wooden planks.
Someone had already scrubbed the deck, but a faint reddish mark remained, trailing toward the railing.
“The boy with the Carvanha.”
Kuroba understood immediately.
“So he died.”
Nobu Nagata once again presided over the assessment.
“Rookies, unfortunately, one of your companions left us before he could even gain control of his Pokémon.”
Some of the boys lowered their heads uneasily.
Nagata’s tone changed.
“However, I expect even more of you will be eliminated during this afternoon’s assessment.”
The newcomers paled.
They did not know exactly what “eliminated” meant aboard the Great Shark.
But judging from his voice, it would not be pleasant.
“Bring them up!”
At his command, several experienced pirates carried cages onto the deck.
Pokémon were imprisoned inside.
Zigzagoon.
Wurmple.
Taillow.
Common Pokémon from the Hoenn region.
Hissing and growling filled the air.
“Your task today is simple,” Nagata said.
“Kill them.”
Then he turned and left.
The veteran pirates remained behind, watching with obvious amusement.
Some immediately began placing bets on which newcomer would be the first to act.
“I’ll bet a bottle of beer!”
“Three packs of cigarettes!”
“Three packs? Damn, are you planning to starve for the rest of the month?”
“We won’t reach land for supplies for more than a month!”
Almost every veteran chose a boy to bet on.
Kuroba received by far the most wagers.
He stared steadily at the Pokémon inside the cages.
Around him, the other boys trembled.
They had been trained for a year, but most of that training consisted of chores and lessons about surviving at sea.
Actually taking a life was different.
The standoff continued.
Then Kuroba slowly drew his Poké Ball.
“Corphish.”
White light flashed.
“Go over there and kill that Wurmple with Vice Grip.”
His voice was cold.
His face showed nothing.
Corphish froze.
It turned and looked uncertainly at its new Trainer.
But in the end, it obeyed.
Its six short legs carried it toward the cage.
Corphish raised its powerful pincers.
Pale energy gathered around them.
The weakened Wurmple stared back in terror.
“Vice Grip.”
The pincers closed.
Wurmple’s struggles gradually stopped.
“Hahaha! I won! Pay up! Hand over the cigarettes!”
The veterans roared with laughter.
Kuroba recalled Corphish and silently returned to the group.
He said nothing.
After seeing him act, several other boys eventually stepped forward.
Their voices shook as they commanded Pokémon they had only just met.
Some succeeded.
Others failed.
And those who failed learned what elimination truly meant.
“Take back his Poké Ball,” one pirate ordered coldly.
“From now on, he can stay at the bottom of the ship and work as a deckhand.”
To these pirates, only someone who completed the test deserved to be considered one of them.
“N-No! Please! Give me another chance! Please—just one more chance!”
The boy fell to his knees, begging desperately.
A pirate strode forward and kicked him aside.
“You looking to die?”
A vicious Crawdaunt appeared beside him.
The Pokémon raised one enormous pincer.
One brutal strike came down.
The boy’s head was crushed.
Blood splattered across the deck.
“Aaaaaah!”
The newcomers screamed.
Crawdaunt slowly turned its head toward them.
Its savage gaze instantly silenced everyone.
No one dared move.
No one dared make another sound.
Kuroba glanced at the headless corpse.
“Human life is the cheapest thing on this ship.”
Later, the body was thrown into the ocean, disappearing beneath the endless waves.
* * *
That night, the lowest cabin was filled with excited chatter about Pokémon.
No one mentioned the two boys who had died during the day.
No one wanted to.
For the survivors, those deaths would remain unforgettable.
Kuroba wandered through the dining area, scanning the tables until his eyes finally lit up.
He approached Furuta carrying two bottles.
“Furuta, I brought something to drink.”
He set the bottles on the table and glanced at the lavish food in front of the older pirate.
“No wonder they call you the eyes of the Great Shark. The captain really does value you. Look at this meal.”
Furuta laughed.
“Sit down, kid. Don’t be polite. Eat whatever you want.”
They opened a bottle each and began drinking while casually exchanging news.
Supplies were precious at sea.
The Great Shark could replenish its stores only when it periodically approached land.
Alcohol was especially valuable.
And among sailors, it was one of the easiest ways to build friendship.
After several drinks, Furuta leaned closer.
“Kuroba, has Madam Meta been especially busy lately? Haven’t seen much of her.”
Kuroba’s eyes flickered.
So that was what Furuta wanted.
Was he trying to find out something about Madam Meta?
“Not really. Madam Meta has just been…”
Kuroba deliberately gave a vague answer and smoothly shifted the conversation elsewhere.
As the night wore on, the dining hall emptied until only a handful of people remained.
Eventually, Kuroba and Furuta staggered outside, apparently thoroughly drunk.
Their steps were unstable, and they supported one another as they walked.
Before they separated, Furuta slapped his chest.
“Listen, kid. If you ever run into trouble, come find me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you take care of it!”
He clapped Kuroba on the shoulder and walked away.
Kuroba watched his retreating figure with a strange expression.
What Kuroba did not see was what happened after they parted.
Furuta, who had been staggering like a hopeless drunk only moments earlier, suddenly straightened.
His face became expressionless.
His footsteps were perfectly steady.
There was not the slightest trace of drunkenness.
“With my experience, my ability, and what I can do when it comes to scouting at sea…”
Furuta narrowed his eyes.
“Maybe I really do have a chance at becoming the third first mate.”
That was the real reason he had lowered himself enough to befriend Kuroba.
Furuta knew Kuroba had Madam Meta’s ear.
If the boy was willing to put in a good word for him at the right moment, Furuta’s chances of winning the promotion would rise considerably.
On the Great Shark, every friendship had a price—and every favor had a purpose.
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