Pokémon: Farm Story

"Alright, that's enough. Come back, Furret."

Hearing Natsume's voice, the Shiny Furret, who had been relentlessly hammering the Zangoose pinned beneath it, darted back to Natsume's side in a flash. It waved its small paws furiously, letting out a dissatisfied cry.

"Furret!"

What nonsense! Talking smack before the fight even began? I knocked your teeth in!

The Zangoose, still sprawled on the ground after the beating, had yet to lose its ability to battle. However, no matter how hard it struggled, it couldn't get up. Its face bore remnants of frost.

Yes, the punches the Shiny Furret had rained down were none other than Ice Punch.

Objectively, Ice Punch wasn't a great match for Furret, whose Special Attack was a meager 45. Against most opponents, it might as well have been a tickle. Even Zangoose, with a Special Defense of only 60, barely felt it. Add in the Normal-to-Normal type matchup, and the effect was, well, negligible.

This wasn't even a case of "death by a thousand cuts." Strictly speaking, it was more like a cow working at a noodle shop for a year and walking away with a few bruises.

But! From the beginning, Shiny Furret's goal wasn't to defeat Zangoose quickly. It simply wanted to teach this trash-talking opponent a painful lesson.

Let's begin this delightful torment, shall we?

"Good work."

Watching the Shiny Furret shadowboxing the air as if venting its fury at the world, Natsume hesitated before offering some encouragement.

"Furret!"

Piece of cake!

Shiny Furret looked incredibly pleased. It silently expressed gratitude to the little Zorua—its mentor—who had taught it Ice Punch.

Despite the Zorua being younger and smaller, Furret didn't mind. Power was all that mattered!

Ever since it witnessed a trainer challenge the farm one day, the Shiny Furret had made a decision:

I want to become stronger too!

From that day onward, it trained relentlessly at the farm.

Initially, it didn't know how to train systematically. After all, it used to be a wild Pokémon. So, it secretly sought advice from Natsume's original trio of Pokémon.

It learned battle techniques and how to utilize its strength from Persian. From Butterfree, it expanded its move pool and learned to diversify its strategies. And from Corvisquire… well, it picked up some trash talk (cough).

Speaking of Corvisquire, wasn't it still "reflecting" somewhere? What did "reflecting" even mean?

These questions flickered briefly in Furret's mind before being discarded.

None of that mattered. What mattered was that today, Furret had fought for Natsume!

Battling! Thrilling!

---

"Thank you for the guidance, Farm Owner Natsume."

While applying potion to the Zangoose, whose face was swollen beyond recognition, the lead youth managed to force a polite smile at Natsume.

His emotions had gone through a rollercoaster over the past few battles. First, his team was effortlessly swept by Sandslash, who had merely wandered over to see the commotion. Then, his Pokémon were toyed with and systematically taken down by Butterfree's dirty tactics. Finally, his father's Zangoose had been pinned and mercilessly pummeled by this Shiny Furret.

Yet, amidst it all, an odd thought surfaced in the young man's mind:

This isn't... entirely unacceptable, is it?

But when he remembered that even his father's Pokémon had been defeated, his heart sank further.

"What does it mean to say, 'just a farm owner, not as strong as professional trainers'?" he grumbled internally.

Sure, his dad might be unreliable, lazy, and terrible at hiding his secret stash of money. But he had once been a trainer! His study was filled with trophies from county-level and city-level tournaments.

And yet, this...

The boy sighed, quickly adjusting his mindset.

"By the way, Farm Owner Natsume, with your strength, have you ever considered becoming a trainer?"

The boy looked at Natsume curiously. While it wasn't polite to question someone's choices, he couldn't help but wonder.

"Trainer? I'm not particularly interested," Natsume replied after a moment's hesitation.

"But... most people would..."

"Let me put it this way," Natsume interrupted, gesturing toward his farm. "What do you think most people become trainers for?"

The boy thought for a moment before tentatively answering, "To gain glory?"

Then, as if realizing something, he shook his head and corrected himself:

"No, most people's real motivation—beyond passion or fame—is to gain benefits.

"Becoming stronger allows them to explore more dangerous areas and acquire rarer resources. Greater strength brings higher status, more resources, and more money."

Though blunt and a bit harsh, it was the reality. Many pursued the high income that came with being a trainer.

"Exactly," Natsume said, pointing to his farm. "I already have everything I need. Why bother becoming a trainer?

"I have money, free time, and I'm still strong enough to protect myself. The only thing I don't do is challenge gyms or compete in tournaments."

Hearing this explanation, the boy understood but still felt there was something off about it. However, he couldn't quite articulate what it was.

"Oh, right. Here, take this."

Natsume reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of Pokéblocks, handing it to the boy.

The transparent ziplock bag contained three or four Pokéblocks—just enough for his Pokémon to enjoy as a treat.

"Ah, thank you," the boy replied automatically, accepting the bag.

Initially, he had intended to give Natsume some Berries as a gesture of goodwill, but now it seemed he was the one being comforted.

His attention quickly shifted to the Pokéblocks.

"These are high-quality Pokéblocks... and an unfamiliar type, too."

He opened the bag, and a faint, refreshing aroma of berries wafted out. At his feet, his battered Bibarel perked up immediately.

"Could I... buy some of these Pokéblocks from you?" the boy asked abruptly, noticing how eager his Pokémon were.

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