[Natsu’s Notebook]
October 24th
"It’s been a week since the two groups moved into the farm.""They’ve more or less gotten used to it.""The egg that Zorua picked up hasn’t shown any changes. Still the sa.""Spent the afternoon sunbathing with Furret. It was very warm."
October 25th
"This morning, Ogerpon stopped by to borrow a bottle of glue and so card stock.""It looked very secretive. Didn’t say what it was doing, no matter how much I asked.""Spent the afternoon sunbathing with Togepi. Still very warm."
October 26th
"The garden is in shambles. Should I try to get a Roselia or Florges to help out?""Although I can make flowers bloom myself, I’m hopeless at maintaining a garden.""Spent the afternoon sunbathing with Persian. Today wasn’t as warm."
October 27th
"Nothing happened today. Spent ti fishing by the lake with Lopunny using a homade fishing rod.""We didn’t catch much, but Air Cutter scooped up a Mudkip before leaving, so at least that counts as a catch.""Clearly, fishing requires professional gear.""But the gifts I’ve prepared for everyone on the farm are already on their way."
Closing the notebook, Natsu glanced at the budding garden, feeling a little conflicted.
Technically, the farm didn’t need a garden. But Natsu insisted on building one, taking care of most of it personally. Psychic powers made things much easier—occasionally using Verdant Force ensured the flowers blood brilliantly.
Even without tending to it, the garden easily surpassed what most people could achieve in years.
But that would be boring.
It had been less than half a year since Natsu took over the farm, but he already felt that the initial excitent was fading.
At first, there were so many things to do—fixing the house, tilling the fields, and countless other tasks that had to be done.
Now, there didn’t seem to be any pressing matters left, and life was slowing down.
If things continued like this, he felt he might age prematurely.
And that was absolutely unacceptable. He was barely 20!
Natsu refused to beco soone who aged before their ti.
“Mudkip.”
Mudkip, trotting along by Natsu’s feet, let out a little croak.
For the past few days, Mudkip had been sticking close to Natsu—not just to bond with him, but also to get extra snacks.
To the Pokémon on the farm, Natsu was like that kind relative you’d visit during the holidays, always ready to hand out candies and treats without you even asking.
If Slowpoke weren’t so lazy, Mudkip would have dragged it along too. Unfortunately, Slowpoke preferred lying by the lakeside, seemingly contemplating life.
Unlike other Slowpoke, this one had a very peculiar air.
In human terms… was it “wise in foolishness” or “foolish in wisdom”?
Mudkip didn’t quite understand. It was just a simple Mudkip, after all, and such profound concepts went over its head.
“Oh, the gift I promised you is on its way, so look forward to it,” Natsu said, patting Mudkip’s smooth head.
A while ago, Natsu conducted a small survey among the farm’s residents, asking what kind of gifts they’d like.
The responses varied widely.
Persian wanted a larger, sturdier scratching post.
Butterfree wanted a forced training device.
Natsu readily agreed to most of their requests. Even for Slowpoke, who couldn’t think of anything, Natsu prepared what he deed fitting.
Of course, not all requests were accepted.
For example, Shiny Furret’s desire for a green bodysuit was imdiately vetoed.
And then there was Corvisquire, who asked for a 1:1 replica of Frostmourne.
What was it planning, a coup?
Natsu gave them both a stern "fatherly glare."
In the end, under his watchful gaze, the two revised their choices to sothing more reasonable—though the gifts were still unmistakably their style.
The exact nature of their gifts? That would remain a surprise for now.
“Mudkip!”
Hearing that the gifts were arriving soon, Mudkip nuzzled against Natsu’s pant leg, expressing its affection and joy.
It wasn’t just the gifts—it was also because Natsu had promised to one day take Mudkip and its fellow refugees back to their holand if the chance arose.
That promise ant a lot to them.
Just like humans, Pokémon carried a deep attachnt to their hos, no matter where they went.
---
anwhile, deep in the forest where Mudkip once lived, a massive creature was moving with heavy steps, each one shaking the ground.
The once-thriving forest was now a desolate wasteland. Most of the Pokémon had fled, leaving behind only a few who refused to abandon their "ho."
If this ruined land could still be called a ho.
Fallen trees, dried-up water sources, and cracks etched across the ground.
A low, guttural roar echoed, like a proclamation of its presence—or a call to sothing.
The air trembled with the sound.
Through the gaps in the remaining trees, a faint glimr of bronze could be seen—a massive cauldron inscribed with mysterious symbols.
It carried a weight of history, but also an unsettling aura that sent chills down one’s spine.
Normally, ancient relics like this would evoke awe or admiration for the craftsmanship and stories they held.
But this bronze cauldron only inspired revulsion, a primal urge to flee.
It was the kind of dread one might feel when encountering statues in the wilderness—where reverence gave way to fear.
“Roar…”
Amid the ruins, a pristine white figure glared at the colossus with eyes full of hatred.
Its crimson gaze reflected the image of the cauldron.
After a mont’s hesitation, the figure turned and left without hesitation, as if making a resolute decision.
It would return.
No matter what, it would return.
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