>When Lize saw Met her jaw went slack. “Oh! It’s a Metang.”
>She saw the box Metang’s ball came in and the packaging. He felt like there was no point in hiding it. “Yeah. I ordered one.”
>Lize was fraught. Her motherly spiel came without much ado. “How much did that cost? Darn it, Lotte, I told you to invest your money.”
>He told her how much Met cost and she groaned in aggravation. She threw her hands up and made a face. “Why did you spend that much money?”
>“This Metang IS an investment. If I have this, I can keep winning tournaments. The payout from regional and world tournaments is way more than what dad left.” Now that he said it aloud, it occurred to him that he had four Pokemon. A year ago this seemed like an unrealistic feat.
>Lize understood that. “I understand that.”
>But she still felt like Pokemon training was little more than an expensive hobby for rich children. She wasn’t rich, so she was pretty sure her child wasn’t either. It was an expensive lifestyle not worth living.
>A real job would have suited him better. Working at the fish market or chopping up fish as a sushi chef would have suited him better. It was more stable and didn’t require a lot of thought. Now she was worried that placing second in the Hastings Cup had polluted her son’s mind and sewed a seed of darkness that would ultimately lead to a devastating collapse of his soul.
>She didn’t know how to communicate that though. “But you could have bought a Beldum.”
>Her inability to articulate was a boon unto her son, who had no interest in being shaken from the path. He found the notion of a 9-to-5 job disagreeable. Becoming a regional champion felt like something of a necessity. His perspective ran contrary to his mother’s anxieties. Now that he had this Metang the Hastings Cup felt like Little League. When he heard the word Beldum, he groaned. This made Lize throw up her hands.
>“What? It only takes five years to raise a Beldum into a Metang.”