Three hours later, Sinbad stood in the middle of his mansion's courtyard staring at a problem that couldn't be solved with spreadsheets or careful planning.
Lurish was hungry.
Not "I could eat" hungry. Not "snack sounds nice" hungry.
Starving.
The Dive Ball sat on the stone tiles, rattling intermittently as the Pokémon inside broadcast waves of distress through their newly-formed bond. The sensation felt like someone had hooked jumper cables directly to his anxiety centers and was revving the engine.
Hungry. Hungry. HUNGRY.
"Alright, alright, chill," Sinbad muttered, rubbing his temples. "I get it. You need food. We all need food. Welcome to capitalism."
He'd released her once already to check her condition. That had lasted approximately forty seconds before Lurish started thrashing in the shallow decorative fountain, realized it was only thirty centimeters deep, and began making a noise that could only be described as aquatic screaming.
Sinbad had recalled her immediately.
The bond pulsed again. Hungry. Water. DEEP water. Hungry.
"Yeah, I'm working on it," he said to the Poké Ball. "Give me a second to figure out how to explain to the kitchen staff why I need fifty kilos of raw fish without sounding completely insane."
His Pryogon Lenses flickered as he pulled up local supplier networks. The interface painted his vision in soft amber overlays, search results cascading down his peripheral vision like a particularly aggressive shopping app.
FRESH SEAFOOD SUPPLIERS - PORT-AU-PRINCE REGION
Bellemare Fisheries - Wholesale, 2km south
Toussaint Marine Imports - Commercial grade, 5km east
Dockside Direct - Retail, 0.8km north
Sinbad tapped the third option and initiated a voice call.
The line connected after two rings.
"Dockside Direct, dis is Marlene speakin', what you need, chéri?" The voice was warm, thick with Creole inflection, and sounded like it had answered ten thousand calls exactly like this one.
"Yeah, hi," Sinbad said, trying to sound casual. "I need to place an order for, uh... fish. Raw fish. A lot of it."
"Mwen konprann. How much we talkin'?"
"Fifty kilos. Maybe more. Depends on the week."
There was a pause.
"Fifty kilo," Marlene repeated slowly. "You runnin' a restaurant, ti gason?"
"Something like that."
"Mm-hmm." The skepticism was audible. "What kind you want? We got snapper, we got grouper, we got—"
"Whatever's cheapest," Sinbad interrupted. "Bulk pricing. I don't care if it's pretty. Just needs to be fresh and, like, edible. For a Pokémon."
"Ahhhh." Understanding dawned in Marlene's voice. "You got yourself a Water-type, non? Big one?"
"...Yeah."
"What species?"
Sinbad's brain slammed into a wall. He couldn't say Lurish. Nobody knew what a Lurish was. If he said pseudo-legendary, she'd either laugh or call the authorities.
"Uh. Sharpedo," he lied.
"Bon Dieu." Marlene sucked her teeth. "You crazy, boy. Dem t'ing eat more dan tree people combine. Your papa know you got dis?"
"He's... aware," Sinbad said, which was technically true in the sense that his father was aware Sinbad existed and occasionally made poor decisions.
"Mm. Well, fifty kilo gon' run you about forty-two t'ousand, maybe forty-five dependin' on market price. Dat's wholesale rate 'cause you buyin' bulk. I can do delivery twice a week if you set up account."
Forty-five thousand.
Per delivery.
Twice a week.
Sinbad did the math and felt his soul leave his body.
That was three hundred sixty thousand currency units per month just for food. His monthly stipend as a low-ranking prince was four hundred thousand. He'd have forty thousand left for everything else—equipment, medical supplies, training fees, emergency reserves, his own food—
"You still dere, chéri?"
"Yeah," Sinbad said weakly. "Yeah, I'm here. Uh. Can I... get a smaller order first? Like, ten kilos? Just to start?"
"Dix kilo, dat's nine t'ousand. I can have it to you by tonight, six o'clock. You got address?"
Sinbad rattled off the mansion's delivery coordinates, confirmed payment through his Pryogon account transfer, and disconnected.
He stared at the Dive Ball.
The Dive Ball rattled accusingly.
"This is fine," Sinbad told himself. "This is totally fine. I'll just... eat less. Sleep on the floor. Sell a kidney. It's fine."
Hungry.
"I KNOW."
The fish arrived at 6:47 PM in a refrigerated crate hauled by a delivery drone that looked like it had seen better decades. Sinbad signed for it, tipped the automated system out of guilt, and dragged the crate into the mansion's rear courtyard where he'd spent the last three hours constructing what could generously be called a "training area."
It was a pool.
Specifically, it was the mansion's old koi pond that he'd drained, scrubbed, and refilled using the groundwater pump system. The pond was roughly eight meters long, four meters wide, and two meters deep at its deepest point.
Not ideal for a deep-sea Pokémon.
But it was what he had.
Sinbad cracked open the crate. The smell of fresh fish hit him like a physical object. Inside, packed in ice, were ten kilos of mixed seafood—small snappers, sardines, some kind of eel-looking thing he didn't recognize, and what might have been squid.
He grabbed a snapper, held it up, and released Lurish into the pool.
The Pokémon materialized in a flash of light and immediately dove, her sleek blue body cutting through the water with zero hesitation. She surfaced a second later, large eyes locking onto the fish in Sinbad's hand.
Her tail hook twitched.
"Okay," Sinbad said slowly. "So. You're hungry. I have food. We're gonna try this thing called 'feeding time' and see if you—"
Lurish launched herself out of the water.
Sinbad yelped and stumbled backward as the Pokémon cleared a full meter of air, jaws snapping shut around the snapper with a wet crunch. She splashed back down, fish clamped firmly in her mouth, and dove again.
The bond flooded with satisfaction. Good. MORE.
"Jesus Christ," Sinbad muttered, heart hammering. "A little warning next time, maybe?"
He grabbed another fish.
This time he was ready. Lurish breached again, snatched the sardines mid-air with terrifying precision, and returned to the depths. The pattern repeated. Fish after fish vanished into her gullet with mechanical efficiency until the crate was empty and Sinbad's arms were covered in fish slime and ice melt.
Lurish surfaced slowly, floating near the edge of the pool. Her eyes were half-lidded, the red bead on her tail hook glowing faintly in the evening light.
Full. Good. Safe.
"Yeah, well, enjoy it," Sinbad said, wiping his hands on his pants. "Because that was nine thousand units and you're gonna need to do that twice a week minimum."
Lurish made a soft chirping sound and rolled onto her back, fins drifting lazily.
Despite everything—the cost, the danger, the absolute insanity of his situation—Sinbad felt something uncomfortably close to affection.
"You're gonna bankrupt me, aren't you?"
Safe. Warm. Trainer good.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it."
He sat down on the pool's edge and watched her float. The bond hummed quietly between them, a strange mix of her contentment and his exhausted resignation.
For about ninety seconds, everything was peaceful.
Then a voice called out from the mansion's side entrance.
"Sinbad? Ou la?"
Sinbad's blood turned to ice.
That was his mother's voice.
Jennifer Kenway—princess by marriage, administrator by preference, and someone who absolutely could not see what was currently floating in the koi pond.
"Shit," Sinbad hissed. He lunged for the Dive Ball. "Lurish, return, now—"
But Lurish, full and content and completely unaware of human social dynamics, had decided this was a great time to practice her Bubble Beam.
A stream of pressurized water spheres erupted from her mouth, arcing gracefully through the air before detonating against the courtyard wall in rapid-fire pop-pop-pop bursts.
"SINBAD?" His mother's voice was closer now. "What was that noise? You breakin' somet'ing back dere?"
Lurish, delighted by her own abilities, fired another volley.
Sinbad recalled her mid-attack. The beam cut off as red light consumed her form, but the damage was done. Scorch marks—no, frost burns—decorated the stone wall in a pattern that very clearly suggested "Pokémon attack."
His mother rounded the corner just as Sinbad shoved the Dive Ball into his pocket.
Jennifer Kenway was a handsome woman in her early forties with dark skin, sharp eyes, and the kind of presence that made people instinctively straighten their posture. She wore a simple blue dress and carried a tablet under one arm.
Her gaze swept the courtyard: the refilled pond, the empty fish crate, the frost-burned wall, and her son standing in the middle of it all looking deeply guilty.
"...Sinbad," she said slowly. "What you doin'?"
"Exercising," Sinbad said immediately.
"Exercisin'."
"Yep. Cardio. Very important. Gotta stay healthy."
His mother's eyes narrowed. "Wit' fish?"
"Protein. Post-workout meal. You know how it is."
"Mm-hmm." She walked closer, examining the wall. Her fingers traced the frost patterns. "And dis?"
"...Ice pack. For my muscles. Slipped."
"It slipped."
"Tragic accident."
Jennifer turned to face him fully. "Boy, I know you t'ink I'm stupid, but I raise you for sixteen years. You got a Pokémon."
Sinbad's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I—"
"Don't lie to me." Her voice wasn't angry. Just tired. "Your papa already tell me you was supposed to get your starter dis mont'. I figure you was gonna wait, maybe avoid it, but here you are wit' a pool full of fresh water and a wall dat look like someone hit it wit' an Ice Beam."
"It's not an Ice Beam," Sinbad said weakly. "It's... Bubble Beam. Technically."
His mother stared at him.
"A Water-type," she said.
"...Yes."
"How big?"
"Small. For now."
"How expensive?"
Sinbad said nothing.
Jennifer closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Bon Dieu. You got somet'ing crazy, didn't you? Somet'ing dat gon' eat us out of house and home?"
"I didn't have a choice!" The words burst out before Sinbad could stop them. "Someone sent it to me. With a letter. Said I had to become a trainer or—" He cut himself off.
His mother's expression shifted. "Or what?"
"...Nothing. Forget it."
"Sinbad Kenway Mar." She used his full name, which was never a good sign. "What letter?"
He could lie. Should lie. But his mother had a way of extracting truth like a dentist pulling teeth—painful, inevitable, and somehow always for his own good.
"Someone threatened me," he admitted quietly. "Said if I didn't become a trainer, I'd... it didn't matter. Point is, I didn't choose this. I got stuck with a Pokémon I can't afford to raise and can't let anyone know about because if the wrong people find out, they'll take her and I'll—"
He stopped.
His mother was looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"Show me," she said.
"What?"
"Show me de Pokémon."
"Mom, I don't think—"
"Show me."
Sinbad hesitated, then pulled out the Dive Ball and released Lurish back into the pool.
She materialized with a happy chirp, immediately swimming in lazy circles. Her metallic tail hook caught the fading sunlight, the red bead glowing softly.
Jennifer stared.
"...Dat's not a Sharpedo," she said.
"No."
"Dat's not any Pokémon I ever seen."
"No."
"How rare we talkin', Sinbad?"
He met his mother's eyes. "Pseudo-legendary. New species. Master-tier potential."
The silence stretched.
Then Jennifer Kenway did something Sinbad didn't expect.
She laughed.
Not a happy laugh. A tired, disbelieving, what-has-my-life-become laugh.
"Of course," she said. "Of course you get de one t'ing dat gon' make everybody want to kill you. Dat's just our luck, non?"
"I'm sorry," Sinbad said quietly.
His mother waved him off. "Non, non. You didn't choose dis. But now we got to deal wit' it." She pulled out her tablet and started typing rapidly. "First t'ing—you need better food supplier. Marlene gon' gossip, and gossip travel fast in Port-au-Prince. I know a man in Jacmel, he run a private operation, no questions asked. More expensive, but he keep his mout' shut."
"Mom—"
"Second t'ing—you need proper trainin' ground. Dis pool too small. She gon' outgrow it in two mont's, maybe less. Dere's an old naval facility near Côtes-de-Fer, been abandoned since de war. Your uncle still got de access codes. I'll arrange it."
"You don't have to—"
"T'ird t'ing." Jennifer looked up from her tablet. "You tell nobody about dis. Not your friends, not your classmates, not even your papa until I say so. You understand?"
Sinbad nodded mutely.
His mother's expression softened slightly. "I know you didn't want dis life, ti gason. But you got it now. And if someone t'reatenin' you..." Her jaw tightened. "Den we gon' make sure you strong enough dat dey can't touch you."
Something warm and uncomfortable lodged itself in Sinbad's chest.
"Thanks, Mom."
"Don't t'ank me yet. You still gon' be broke, exhausted, and probably traumatized by de end of dis." She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Sinbad?"
"Yeah?"
"Clean up dat fish smell before dinner. You reek like a dockworker."
She left.
Sinbad stood alone in the courtyard with Lurish, who had resumed floating peacefully, completely unaware that she'd just accidentally recruited his mother into a conspiracy.
The bond pulsed contentedly. Safe. Family. Good.
"Yeah," Sinbad muttered. "Good. Great. Fantastic."
His Pryogon Lenses pinged with an incoming message.
He opened it.
SENDER: UNKNOWN
SUBJECT: [No Subject]
Well done on your first day, Prince Mar.
Your mother is resourceful. Keep her close.
Training begins soon.
Do not disappoint me.
The message deleted itself three seconds later.
Sinbad stared at the empty notification space.
"I'm going to find you," he said to the air. "And when I do, we're gonna have a conversation."
Lurish chirped happily and splashed her tail.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
The rainy season was coming early this year.