Chapter 4

Two days had passed.

Luka held the flute to his mouth, attempting to imitate Ms. Quaker. But no matter what he did, he did not feel the connection that the old woman seemed to possess with the bin-bag Pokémon.

Maybe it was because he did not possess the family's blood in his body? No. If that were the case, she would have given him some alternative advice.

Hm.

The words of Ms. Quaker reflected in his mind as he gritted his teeth.

"The music is how you speak, but the bond is what makes your Pokémon listen. Without trust, it's just noise."

What did she mean by that? What was it that he was missing?

Aside from that, however, he had gained some useful tips from Ms. Quaker, showing her experience as a trainer. She had instructed him to go to the garbage pile in the west bank. Here, trash from the river floated downstream from littering and washed up. This had two valuable uses for Luka.

First, it served as food for Trubbish. This meant that he did not have to tax his very limited financial situation for more food for the Pokémon, and it gleefully loved it with its entire heart. Second, Trubbish was unique in its biology. It could incorporate rubbish to grow a stronger venomous liquid in its body, which became its chance of survival in nature.

Other Poison Pokémon have this effect in nature, but it is limited to poisons they can digest, like natural toxins occurring in flowers for more insect-like Pokémon. Meanwhile, those with a connection to industrial waste, like Trubbish, thrive in places like this.

It truly was a blessing in disguise.

The fight was tomorrow. He needed a debut that would make him worthy of attention. His flute was already something he could use, but...

Luka's eyes fell on a scattered black cloak and a cracked mask that lay in some of the trash. Taking it out and examining it, the boy nodded his head.

This would do.

---

Three days had passed. Even though he couldn't understand it fully, his grasp on the technique was reaching the eclipse of the first stage. Trubbish was slowly starting to react to his commands.

But he had underestimated how long it would take.

He was no genius.

A knock on the door caused silence to sprout in the room that held Ms. Quaker and Luka. The two exchanged a glance before opening the door, revealing Max and a masked figure.

"The Dust Circuit came to me to come get you," Max groaned. "What's the fucking point of this, eh? Surely you could've just gotten him on your own, no?"

The masked figure of a wolf did not say a word as he merely began to walk to the center of the slums. Luka looked toward Max as the latter spoke.

"Look after Ms. Quaker while I'm gone, Max."

"No need," Ms. Quaker said, linking arms with Max. "I'm coming with." Her shut eyes trembled a bit as Max started to groan.

"Are you sure you want to come? It could be dangerous." Max looked down at Ms. Quaker, who only snorted in response.

"I've been in this slum far longer than you have, boy. Don't underestimate me because I'm blind."

This caused Max to groan as he quietly muttered, "Why is nobody in this shithole normal?"

Luka looked down at his Pokéball before clicking his tongue and following the masked figure. It didn't take long for them to arrive, as Luka was taken to a private room. The old woman and Max were separated as they incorporated themselves into the crowd perfectly, not showing that the woman he was with was blind. Nobody would dare do anything here anyway.

Tension caused Luka's heart to palpitate as he sat on the bench, his leg twitching back and forth. Sweat began to pour down his neck as he remembered what the elite guard had said.

"You're also a performer."

Performer...

Luka looked down at the flute in his hands before slowly reaching into an old bag he had found. Within it, he retrieved the tattered cloak and mask. On the white porcelain mask, there was a single symbol.

♩

Simple and clean.

The doors opened as a guard watched the boy transform from an innocent young child into a masked figure. His aura grew more imposing, and the look in his eyes even fiercer.

A performer.

He'd give the people what they wanted.

Luka walked onto the stage, his wooden flute in his hands. The old woman and Max stood closest to the arena, watching as the boy made his entrance.

The crowd roared. The spectators screamed.

Everything blended together as Luka's anxiety began to rise. His hand gripped the Pokéball and the flute with a mix of determination and nervousness.

His heart dropped once he saw his opponent. A bloodthirsty, chubby man came out from the opposite side with a gaunt, menacing smile. It was the Zubat trainer from before.

How was he going to do this?

In the VIP booth, at the top of the stage where the poor couldn't even look up to see, a glass panel looked down on the fighting ring.

"I like this one." The elite guard from before, with the demon mask, pointed down at the cloaked boy. "He took my advice into consideration."

Another elite guard wearing a mask depicting a snake laughed.

"Doesn't mean fuck all." His words were slimy, as he sadistically licked his lips behind the mask. "They're all the same. His nervousness betrays him."

Behind them, in a stone throne, sat a man with red, spiky hair. He wore no mask, and his posture radiated sheer power. The two in front of him dared not look back as they kept their eyes fixed on the start of the battle.

The king.