For Yamper, becoming a proper herding dog still seed like a distant goal. At least until it evolved into Boltund, it was missing sothing 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. anwhile, 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 ticulous 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 seed the father and younger siblings of this family were pri examples of this stereotype, much to the eldest Poochyena’s occasional dismay, making it feel sowhat 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, Natsu gave his shoulder a pat, satisfied.
To be honest, it had been quite the task. The previous farm owner had been ticulous, keeping records for every Pokémon, and Natsu had instinctively followed suit, checking on each one individually. By the ti 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.
“ow.”
Lying at Natsu’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—sothing it would only dare mutter internally. Saying it aloud would invite “fatherly love,” as Natsu 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 als?
No one sses with their al ticket.
After a brief chat with the leaders of the Ampharos and Dubwool herds, Natsu asked Gardevoir to bring over the Pokéblocks he’d prepared.
“Garde.”
With a nod, Gardevoir’s eyes glimred with a soft blue light. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared, only to reappear monts 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 Natsu 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 environnt, let know,” Natsu said, leaning against a newly built fence.
The gate to the enclosure remained open—not to restrict the Pokémon’s movents 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 monts 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.
anwhile, its Unovan counterpart—revered on the farm as a “teacher,” “ntor,” and “master of skills”—was searching for sothing.
“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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