"Vikavolt, finish it."
A brilliant beam of light burst forth, instantly followed by a fiery explosion that engulfed the battlefield.
"Lotad is unable to battle!"
"Since all three of the challenger's Pokémon are unable to continue, the winner of this Gym Battle is Gym Leader Natsume!"
There's a saying: when your world is peaceful and calm, someone else is shouldering the burdens behind the scenes.
In order to free up more time for the afternoon, Natsume had decided to pull fewer punches today—the battles wrapped up rather quickly.
Maybe because the Sunnyhill Gym had only just opened, there wasn't yet a clear consensus online about its level of difficulty. As a result, the strength of the Trainers showing up to challenge it varied wildly.
Some were solid contenders… and some were clearly still new to the path, full of potential, yes, but very much works in progress.
Still, this surge probably wouldn't last long. Once the gym's difficulty level became more widely known online, the number of challengers would likely drop off significantly.
"Come back, Vikavolt."
Recalling Vikavolt, Natsume lightly wiped at the non-existent sweat on his brow.
What a thrilling battle.
That said, he had to admit he didn't exactly have a natural gift for battling. More often than not, even if he grasped the situation mentally, he had no idea what command to give. And even if he did, his mouth couldn't keep up.
Not like those so-called experts online, who—according to their own humble brags—could predict the entire flow of a battle from the opening move and issue lightning-fast instructions like it was nothing.
Yeah, sure. Natsume just took those stories at face value for the sake of fun.
Out in the real world, your "identity" is whatever you make it.
Natsume had always introduced himself online as nothing more than an ordinary farmer who never even bothered to get a Trainer license.
Technically speaking… that wasn't exactly a lie.
"Guess I should start screening those resumes and bring on an apprentice or two."
Originally, Natsume had thought of just grabbing a couple of warm bodies to help run the Gym, keep things running on the surface.
But on second thought, the Gym was tied to his name. If it kept losing horribly, that'd be kind of embarrassing.
And besides, if he just brought in someone to stand around and look busy, that wouldn't really be fair to the apprentice either.
So… why not just hand the job over to Slowking?
The whole point of getting apprentices in the first place was to take some pressure off of Slowking and Mew, wasn't it?
At least for Slowking, that was the case.
As for Mew…
Let's put it this way: even though Mew kept saying it wanted to be a Gym Leader, Natsume knew perfectly well how that would go.
It'd burn with passion one moment and vanish without a trace the next.
So there still needed to be someone dependable around to hold down the fort.
That way, Slowking could take it easy too.
Truly, Natsume thought, I'm such a kind and considerate person.
"Yadon?"
Currently balancing the farm's monthly expenses, Slowking looked up in confusion.
Why did it feel like someone was talking about him?
Was it just his imagination?
After pondering for a bit, Slowking figured it was probably Natsume assigning him more work again.
That damn slacker of a boss.
One day, I swear, I'll pin you to your desk and make you work overtime.
Pushing up his non-prescription glasses, Slowking went back to calculating this month's expenses.
The glasses were a personal tool he'd chosen for himself.
They acted as a quiet signal to shift gears—whenever he put them on, it meant it was time to get serious and focus.
No matter the problem, he approached it with clarity and precision. But…
Something wasn't right.
Why…
No matter how he ran the numbers, they just wouldn't add up.
It wasn't like a huge chunk was missing—just one Pokedollar.
Staring at the results, a cold sweat began to form on Slowking's forehead.
It seemed he'd run into a serious accounting issue.
Meanwhile, as Natsume was busy fending off a challenger, Mei decided to tidy up the house a bit.
Not knowing what else to do, she figured she'd choose something safe and foolproof.
At the very least, it wouldn't backfire.
"Morning, Cinccino."
"Cinuuuo."
Seeing Mei tidying up, Cinccino happily waved its tiny paw.
Cinccino really liked Mei.
She helped clean up and always paid attention to hygiene.
Unlike those chaotic troublemakers on the farm.
Forget cleaning—just not making a mess would be a blessing.
Even Natsume often ran around in clothes covered in stray fur.
Every time, Cinccino had to spend ages cleaning up the drifting hair.
Sometimes it would go on furious rants at Natsume.
Sure, I like things clean, and I can't help wanting to tidy up…
But can't you at least try to be a little neater?!
I'm working hard here, you know!
Unfortunately, even though most Pokémon tried to be mindful…
The end result still always seemed to create more mess for Cinccino, leaving it in a perpetual state of flustered exasperation.
"Morning, Emolga."
"Emooo~"
After helping Cinccino put away the cleaning tools,
Mei greeted the Emolga who was dangling from the window frame.
Suspended midair, Emolga casually waved back.
Ever since Espurr evolved into Meowstic, the cat and mouse had entered a daily "love-hate" cycle.
Today, Emolga zapped her while she was eating.
Tomorrow, Meowstic would hang Emolga up in the house.
It all started with fighting over who got to sleep with Natsume at night.
But now, neither of them had set paw in Natsume's room for ages—because the moment night fell, they'd start bickering again.
Their motto? If I can't get in, then you're definitely staying out too.
Unfortunately, they were so wrapped up in their squabbles that they didn't notice someone sneaking into the house.
(Phione: Ehehe~)
Turns out the old saying "never forget your original intention" really holds true.
"How'd you end up hanging up there again? Got ambushed?"
Seeing Emolga swinging lazily by the window, enjoying the breeze, Mei released her Duosion to bring it down and asked curiously.
Whenever Meowstic strung Emolga up, she'd throw in a few psychic seals to prevent escape.
So Emolga could only dangle obediently until the spell wore off.
That's why Mei had to get her psychic-type Duosion to help.
At first, she'd been surprised every time she had to do this.
Now? She was used to it.
Duosion extended the little hand it had grown after evolving and pointed at the bindings.
A flash of light later, the psychic string came undone.
Emolga, hung like a weather charm from the window, was finally free.
"Emo!"
I got ambushed while sleeping.
Damn that green tea cat! Tonight, I'm gonna slap that litter box right on her face!
Emolga grumbled furiously as it was lowered to the ground.
At first, it had been embarrassed whenever this happened, covering its face in shame.
But now?
Hello, dear passerby. And you too, little Oddish over there.
Emolga had gotten totally used to it.
Being strung up was just a little… spice to its daily routine.
A bit of extra flair in life.
Stretching its stiff limbs, it waved a paw at Mei to thank her.
Then, hopping off the windowsill, it rummaged through its little box and pulled out a crystal ball to give to her.
Inside was a tiny snowman—something you'd expect around Christmas.
A "friend" had given this to Emolga.
At least, that's how Emolga explained it.
'They keep giving me gifts and stuff, but we're just friends. Just friends, okay?'
Honestly, it gave off a bit of that "villainous second female lead" vibe from a novel.
Whereas Meowstic…
Maybe more of a cold and aloof third female lead?
Who knew.
"Emo."
Here you go.
After stuffing the crystal ball into Mei's hands, Emolga zipped off in a blur.
It had planning to do—tonight's revenge scheme on that stupid cat.
Sure, it was used to this whole routine, but that didn't mean it was gonna let that jerk off the hook!
Just you wait, green tea cat! Tonight, that litter box is going straight on your forehead!
Thus thought the farm's No.1 Little Green Tea.
(Tl/N: "green tea" refers to someone who pretends to be sweet and innocent while actually being manipulative. Here, it's jokingly used to describe Meowstic.)
Watching Emolga dart off, Mei exchanged a helpless glance with the Twin Egg Pokémon.
It really was…
Quite the character.
Racking her brain, Mei finally pulled out that phrase from her vocabulary.
It doesn't mind being hung from a window.
Kind of… carefree, in a way.
Duosion's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Before coming here, both Serperior-senpai and Tsareena-senpai had told it stories about the farm.
In their words, Mr. Natsume's farm was a wondrous place.
The Pokémon there were strong, and the environment was beautiful—perfect for settling down long-term.
There weren't simulated regions like volcanoes or glaciers, but the farm seemed to have a unique energy.
Just being here felt good.
Even better than staying in the territory it originally came from.
It was a mysterious, cozy feeling.
When Serperior-senpai talked about it, her eyes shimmered with fond memories and longing.
Clearly reminiscing about her days living here.
But right now…
Duosion had to admit the environment was nice and comfortable.
Though maybe because it was indoors, it didn't quite have that "soaking in a hot spring" kind of feeling yet.
As for the Pokémon here…
Didn't seem all that powerful?
That Emolga from just now didn't feel strong.
Just your average Emolga.
Maybe it just hadn't encountered the truly powerful Pokémon yet.
That was probably it.
During the last gym battle, Mei hadn't used Duosion.
It was just too fragile.
Its offense had grown, but its squishy body would be one-hit KO'd by any of Natsume's Pokémon.
One hit, and game over.
Plus, Mei had wanted to show how much she'd grown, so she'd sent out the three Pokémon Natsume was most familiar with:
Serperior, Hisuian Samurott, and Tsareena.
Serperior was her starter. Samurott used to follow Gallade around on the farm all day.
Tsareena had literally walked out of the farm and into the world.
Of course Natsume would be familiar with them.
"By the way, where's Samurott gone off to? Do you know, Duosion?"
Early this morning, Samurott went out on its own, saying it had something to take care of.
No one really knew where it had gone.
Shaking its head, Duosion signaled that it had no clue either.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't particularly concerned about the other Pokémon on the team.
It had chosen to become Mei's Pokémon of its own accord after acknowledging her—but the rest of the Pokémon in the team? To it, they were more like coworkers.
They got along decently enough on a daily basis.
But it wasn't going to bother investing too much in those guys.
In the end, they were just working under the same Trainer by coincidence.
No need to get too friendly in private.
"Alright, maybe it went to find Gallade."
"It's always liked following Gallade around, ever since a long time ago."
Thinking about it, Mei didn't give it much thought.
Samurott wasn't the kind to get into trouble, so Mei wasn't worried it'd cause any problems while out and about.
In fact, by the lake where Gallade liked to nap most afternoons—
Samurott was currently staring at Gallade and Ceruledge with a look of sheer disbelief.
Just moments ago, it had heard a thunderclap of a revelation.
The idol it had admired for so long—the one it had always dreamed of apprenticing under, only to be refused time and time again—Gallade…
Had taken on a student.
And not just any student, but that shameless Pokémon who'd used dirty tricks during their battle—Ceruledge.
Samurott couldn't accept it.
In its eyes, the way of the sword should be pure and untainted by outside interference.
And Ceruledge? That Pokémon had utterly betrayed that principle.
Pulling cheap shots during a duel between swordsmen!
A Pokémon like that didn't deserve to be called a true swordsman!
Yet it was that very Pokémon who had easily achieved the dream Samurott had yearned for.
What was supposed to be a moment of pride—coming to show Gallade how far it had come in its training—turned into a harsh lesson in the cruelty of the world.
Why?
It had evolved. It had finally met Gallade again.
This should've been twice the joy.
So why did it feel like this?
Samurott fell into a spiral of depression.
Looks like the season of pale snow is arriving early this year.
"?"
Seeing Samurott sulking like that, Ceruledge turned to Gallade with a puzzled look.
You know this guy?
"…Sort of."
After digging through the recesses of his memory, Gallade finally fished out the identity of Samurott from his mental recycle bin.
Oh right, the little Dewott who used to daydream about becoming a wandering swordsman.
Gallade didn't really have any strong opinions about Samurott's dream. Everyone had their own goals.
Wanting to become a hero or a swordmaster—sure, why not? Gallade wasn't the type to mock such ambitions.
But when it came to the so-called "pure" sword duels Samurott cherished so much, Gallade and Ceruledge were on the same page.
Winning is what matters. Everything else? Doesn't.
If it meant winning, Gallade would even go straight for the enemy Trainer.
Dignity? Restraint? Please.
That's something to worry about after you've won.
In the philosophy that "any tactic is fair game so long as it wins the battle," Gallade and Ceruledge were completely aligned.
It was that shared mindset that had made Gallade willing to take Ceruledge under his wing in the first place.
As for Samurott… Gallade could only offer an internal apology.
Watching Samurott walk away as if carrying the weight of falling snow, Gallade sighed inwardly.
—
Elsewhere, after finishing her last challenge of the day, Natsume was getting ready to recall the visibly excited Hisuian Zorua.
This had been its first formal battle against a Pokémon from outside the farm.
There was a strange and unfamiliar thrill bubbling up inside it.
So this is what victory feels like!
Turns out… I'm not half bad either.
Using illusions the entire time to toy with its opponent and clearing the battle without a scratch, Hisuian Zorua was feeling a surge of emotion it couldn't quite put into words.
It wanted—no, needed—to do something.
"Come back, now…"
"…Huh?"
Just as Natsume aimed the Poké Ball to recall it, Hisuian Zorua suddenly leapt to the side in a flailing flop, dodging the beam of red light.
Spinning in place restlessly and brimming with energy, Hisuian Zorua's behavior left Natsume stunned for a moment.
Then, she quickly caught on and gently guided it:
"Don't rush. Take it slow. Try to really feel the power welling up inside you."
"Don't resist it. Let it guide you—lean into that instinct and channel your strength."
Though caught off guard at first, Natsume quickly realized: this little one was about to evolve.
After watching so many Pokémon evolve, she liked to think she had at least a beginner's grasp on the process—
An amateur evolution researcher, so to speak.
Yep, just an amateur.
Don't ask her about scientific terms or numerical stats—she couldn't explain any of those.
Just putting her thoughts into words clearly was already enough of a challenge.
Hearing Natsume's calm voice, Hisuian Zorua slowly began to settle down.
Truth was, it had already met the conditions for evolution long ago.
It was just… the nagging self-doubt that held it back.
After all, the Pokémon it usually encountered were way beyond the norm.
Mew—a Mythical Pokémon, able to transform at will, said to possess the power of every move.
Manaphy—the Prince of the Sea, another Mythical Pokémon.
Overqwil, the legendary Ting-Lu…
Even those like Okidogi, Munkidori, and Fezandipiti, though dubbed "the disgrace of the legends" by Natsume, were still legends.
And the rest of the non-legendary bunch on the farm?
Persian, Corviknight, Slowking…
Each more outrageous than the last.
And itself? Just a little fox with a few illusion tricks up its sleeve.
Tricks that didn't even work that well.
No wonder it had started doubting its own strength.
But now, after proving itself in battle, Hisuian Zorua finally crossed that threshold.
"Rrhh—"
A brilliant light flared to life, and a long, drawn-out howl echoed through the air.
It sounded like a wolf's cry—or maybe the eerie call of a fox in the night.
The white light surged and expanded, swelling like a balloon—until, all at once, it popped.
And from within emerged a new form.
Now standing upright on two legs, Hisuian Zoroark's flowing mane resembled ethereal tendrils, swaying like living shadows.
There was an uncanny majesty to it—a strange, dignified wickedness that was difficult to put into words.
They say a Hisuian Zoroark will fight its enemies with the resolve to perish together if need be.
Looking down at its new hands, the newly-evolved Zoroark's eyes sparkled with excitement—though a flicker of confusion lingered.
Wait… how do I walk now?
Taking its first steps on two feet, Hisuian Zoroark paused, lost in thought.
***************************
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