The Poké Ball felt heavier than it should have.
Not because of its size, or the cold metal pressing against Enzo's palm, but because of what it represented. A contract. A leash. A weapon. All at once.
He clipped it to his belt.
The click echoed in the mahogany room like a final verdict.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Proton held his Sprigatito as if it might vanish if he blinked. Ronnie grinned at his own prize, practically vibrating with excitement. Executive Nero stood behind Giovanni with the stillness of a shadow, his gaze on Enzo, not hostile, not suspicious, just attentive. Watching the way a man watches a blade being forged.
Giovanni's eyes lingered on Enzo's belt for half a second longer than they should have.
A faint crease touched his brow. Surprise, small and controlled, but real. It was gone an instant later.
"That one," he said, his tone flat. Not a question, not quite a statement either.
Enzo's expression didn't change. "Yes, Sir."
Giovanni held his gaze for another second. Then he gave a single, minimal nod, like a judge stamping a document.
"Good," he said. "This matter is resolved."
He rose from the leather armchair with the smooth economy of a man who never wasted motion. The room seemed to shrink around him as he turned, already done with the moment.
"Serve well," Giovanni added, almost casually. "And you'll be rewarded."
He took one step toward the exit.
And Enzo felt the window closing.
"Sir."
The word came out before Enzo could overthink it.
Giovanni stopped, but he didn't turn immediately.
Nero's eyes sharpened. Proton stiffened like someone had pressed a blade to his spine. Ronnie's grin faltered, his mouth hanging open just enough to show he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
No recruit spoke to Giovanni after the first reward.
Not like this.
Enzo kept his posture straight, his tone respectful, controlled. He didn't advance. He didn't bow. He claimed space with calm audacity.
"I ask permission for one word," Enzo said.
Giovanni turned his head slowly, just enough for his profile to catch the dim light. His eyes settled on Enzo with the patient boredom of a predator being interrupted.
For a long second, the room was silent except for the soft hum of the holograms above the remaining Poké Balls.
Then Giovanni's gaze shifted to Nero.
Nero didn't speak. He didn't need to. His face remained composed, but there was something in the angle of his eyes that said: this isn't a mistake. Let him talk.
Giovanni looked back at Enzo.
It was rare for him to be surprised. Rarer still for him to entertain it.
"You have nerve," Giovanni said quietly.
Enzo didn't flinch. "Yes, Sir."
Another beat.
Giovanni's lips moved in the smallest hint of amusement, more permission than smile.
"Speak," he said.
Giovanni's hand was already on the door when Enzo spoke.
"I would like to infiltrate the League," Enzo said.
The words landed cleanly, no hesitation. A request, not a plea.
Giovanni paused.
He didn't look back right away. He didn't need to. The temperature in the room dropped anyway, as if the name itself carried weight.
Proton's breath caught. Ronnie blinked, confused, like he couldn't tell if Enzo was fearless or suicidal. Nero's gaze stayed on Enzo, steady, unreadable, but not condemning.
Giovanni finally turned, slow and deliberate.
"In Kanto," he said, as if correcting a child's vague answer, "I already have enough people in place."
Enzo didn't interrupt.
Giovanni continued, voice calm, almost instructional.
"Influence is not something you stack endlessly without consequences. Add too much pressure to one side of the scale, and the entire structure becomes visible. Suspicion follows. Investigations. Purges."
He took a step closer. Not aggressive. Just inevitable.
"There are balances that took years to build," Giovanni said. "If they collapse because someone is eager to be clever, the losses are not measured in money. They are measured in years. In lives. In projects set back beyond recovery."
A beat.
"And you," Giovanni added, "are more useful elsewhere."
He said it like a conclusion, not a debate. Like Enzo's place on the board had already been decided.
Enzo nodded.
"I agree, Sir."
That simple answer made Proton's eyes widen. Ronnie's jaw slowly closed, then opened again, like his brain needed a second to catch up. Most people would have argued. Begged. Tried to sell themselves.
Enzo didn't.
Giovanni's expression shifted by a fraction. Interest, restrained.
Enzo held Giovanni's gaze and asked, evenly, "Then… other regions?"
Giovanni's brow rose slightly.
"Which one?" he asked.
It wasn't mocking. It wasn't dismissive. It was the first genuine opening in the conversation, thin as a blade.
Enzo didn't waste it.
"Hoenn," he said.
The name changed the air.
Even Ronnie sobered at that. Hoenn was far. Hoenn was unstable. Hoenn wasn't home turf.
Enzo continued before anyone could fill the silence.
"Two major criminal organizations are operating there," he said. "Team Aqua and Team Magma. Their objectives aren't profit. They're a catastrophe. Collapse."
Giovanni watched him with the quiet focus of a man listening for flaws.
Enzo kept his tone measured. No drama. No heroic outrage. Just facts and intent.
"Hoenn's League structure is vulnerable," Enzo said. "Corruption, fragmentation, weak oversight. It's the kind of environment where a small push becomes an avalanche."
Giovanni's eyes narrowed.
Then he said, almost mildly, "My word will not open doors there."
The sentence was simple. Absolute.
"Kanto is mine," Giovanni continued. "Hoenn is not."
He let that sink in.
"In Hoenn, you don't walk into the League because you want to," Giovanni said. "You walk in because the right people choose to let you through. And those people do not answer to me."
A pause.
"To attempt what you're implying would require resources," Giovanni said. "Time. Cover. Reach. None of that is free."
His gaze sharpened, pinning Enzo.
"So," Giovanni said, "what makes you think you can do it?"
Enzo didn't smile. He didn't flinch.
"Because I have a plan," he answered.
For the first time, Giovanni's interest was no longer faint.
He took a step back toward the center of the room, as if conceding, temporarily, that this conversation had earned more than a doorway dismissal.
"What do you need?" he asked.
Enzo exhaled once, steadying the words. This was the line between ambition and execution. Between being impressive and being useful.
"I need two things," Enzo said.
Giovanni's eyes didn't leave him.
"First," Enzo continued, "a League identity that cannot be traced back to you. Or to Team Rocket. Clean enough to survive scrutiny."
Giovanni didn't react. Not a twitch. Not a blink.
Enzo lifted his chin slightly.
"Second," he said, "I need permission and help to enter the Junior tournament, Kanto's young prodigy circuit."
Giovanni's expression changed. Sharp now, not cold. A real evaluation.
"You want to enter that?" Giovanni asked.
Enzo kept his voice steady. "Yes."
Giovanni studied him as if he'd just found a crack in stone and wanted to see how deep it went.
"Do you understand who normally competes in those tournaments?" Giovanni asked, voice still level, but heavier. "The children of sponsors. The protégés of Gym Leaders. The League's favored bloodlines."
He took a slow breath through his nose.
"And you believe," Giovanni said, "that you can win."
Not a question. A test.
Enzo met it head-on.
"I believe I can make a good impression," Enzo said.
The confidence wasn't loud. It wasn't arrogance. It was controlled certainty, like someone stating the outcome of a calculation.
Giovanni's gaze held him for another moment.
"And while you chase this," Giovanni said, "you will not neglect your duties."
"I won't," Enzo said. "I can do both."
Giovanni was silent.
Then his eyes shifted to Nero.
It was subtle, but it mattered. Giovanni didn't ask anyone's opinion unless the opinion was worth something.
Nero's face was composed. No speech. No praise. Just a single nod, small and precise.
He believes me, Enzo thought.
Giovanni looked back at Enzo.
For a long second, he said nothing at all.
Then, finally:
"Very well," Giovanni said.
Proton's breath released like he'd been holding it for minutes. Ronnie's eyes widened again, shocked, almost offended by the idea that reality could bend this easily for someone else.
Giovanni's voice remained calm, but there was an edge of warning beneath it.
"I will see what can be done," Giovanni said. "I expect results."
Enzo inclined his head. "Thank you, Sir."