Pokemon: Farm Story

For Yamper, becoming a proper herding dog still seemed like a distant goal. At least until it evolved into Boltund, it was missing something crucial.

But that didn't matter; the farm had the Mightyena family to help out as well.

As the parents and elder sibling, Mightyena focused most of its energy on patrolling the farm. Meanwhile, its younger siblings, Poochyena, showed an unexpected enthusiasm for herding duties.

Perhaps it was a canine thing, but the two Poochyena got along very well with Yamper.

Unlike their calm elder sibling and meticulous mother, the younger Poochyena had inherited their father's rather unreliable traits.

In short, the Husky genes had taken over.

Many joked that while other large dog breeds might be labeled as fierce, Huskies would probably be classified as defective—unpredictable in both intelligence and behavior.

And it seemed the father and younger siblings of this family were prime examples of this stereotype, much to the eldest Poochyena's occasional dismay, making it feel somewhat out of place.

"Bark, bark, bark!"

The three mischievous pups darted around the two herds, filling the farm with lively commotion.

While the farm already housed many Pokémon, most were reserved and kept to themselves for various reasons. The only exception was the shiny Furret, who had recently taken to leading its gang around in a showy display.

But starting today, the farm would clearly be much livelier.

"Alright, everything seems to be in order."

After cross-checking the list in his hands, Natsume gave his shoulder a pat, satisfied.

To be honest, it had been quite the task. The previous farm owner had been meticulous, keeping records for every Pokémon, and Natsume had instinctively followed suit, checking on each one individually. By the time he realized what he was doing, he figured he might as well finish the job.

This was all with Gardevoir's help, too. Otherwise, it might've taken him until nightfall.

"Meow."

Lying at Natsume's feet, Persian let out a long yawn, showing no reaction to his antics.

Persian had long known its trainer wasn't the brightest bulb in the box—something it would only dare mutter internally. Saying it aloud would invite "fatherly love," as Natsume called it.

Persian agreed, primarily because it couldn't win a fight against him. And even if it could, what then?

Would it cook its own meals?

No one messes with their meal ticket.

After a brief chat with the leaders of the Ampharos and Dubwool herds, Natsume asked Gardevoir to bring over the Pokéblocks he'd prepared.

"Garde."

With a nod, Gardevoir's eyes glimmered with a soft blue light. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared, only to reappear moments later with a large bag in hand.

The bag was slightly open, revealing Pokéblocks that sparkled like gemstones under the sunlight, their alluring sheen enough to make any Pokémon salivate.

That's exactly what happened with the Ampharos and Dubwool leaders, who eagerly dug into their portions.

Forget their herds; their first priority was to enjoy the feast themselves.

The Pokéblocks made by Natsume weren't just delicious—they were extraordinary.

Even for seasoned Pokémon who had lived on farms and eaten their fair share of treats, this was a whole new level.

As a warm energy coursed through their bodies, the leaders exchanged satisfied glances.

This farm owner? Fantastic.

They could settle here without a second thought.

"All right, I'll leave you to it. If there's anything you need or any suggestions about the environment, let me know," Natsume said, leaning against a newly built fence.

The gate to the enclosure remained open—not to restrict the Pokémon's movements but to remind them to return to the enclosure at night.

Wandering too far wouldn't necessarily be dangerous, but it could attract trouble.

Take Hisuian Zorua, for example.

After hearing from its Unovan counterpart that Ghost-type Pokémon thrive by scaring others, it had recently taken to planning pranks.

Unfortunately, its kind nature made it hesitate, worried about actually frightening or harming anyone on the farm it was close to.

As a result, it often missed the perfect moments for mischief, leaving it frustrated.

But with so many new Pokémon, Zorua felt it had a golden opportunity. It didn't know them yet, so there'd be no guilt.

Determined, Hisuian Zorua set off to embark on its prankster career.

Meanwhile, its Unovan counterpart—revered on the farm as a "teacher," "mentor," and "master of skills"—was searching for something.

"Zorua?"

For a while now, it had sensed a familiar presence. Initially, it thought it was just its imagination, but the feeling had grown stronger recently.

Eventually, Zorua stopped by the small lake, tilting its head as it peered into the water, its gaze piercing through to the lakebed.

An egg?

"Zorua?"

Its head tilted further, showing a thoughtful expression.

After swiping at the water with its paw, Zorua intercepted a passing Goldeen and started a conversation.

"Zoru-zoru?"

"Goldeen!"

"Zorua."

Ah, so that's what it was.

Nodding in understanding, Zorua's expression lit up with sudden clarity.

What had it realized? That remained a mystery.

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