Pokémon: Farm Story

Sometimes, battles reveal a Pokémon's true potential.

The instant the match began, the chattering Corvisquire fell silent. It spread its wings and swiftly ascended, dodging Snivy's initial Bullet Seed attack. Seeds struck the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt.

"Tsk."

Snivy clicked its tongue. It had assumed this opponent was all talk, but Corvisquire's quick reflexes were surprising.

More importantly...

Snivy's gem-like red eyes locked onto Corvisquire. As much as it hated to admit it, this bird was a serious threat.

Its own repertoire of moves was limited, and it lacked effective anti-air tactics. Worse still, it had no idea whether this opponent possessed long-range attacks. If it did, things could become dire.

Thinking this over, Snivy launched another wave of attacks, alternating between Vine Whip and Bullet Seed. But Corvisquire evaded them effortlessly.

"Snivy, don't rush," Mei called out, her tone calming and analytical. "We'll focus on a defensive counterattack strategy. Corvisquire's special defense isn't high—if our attacks land, we'll have the upper hand."

Mei's words helped Snivy regain its composure.

A true trainer's role in battle isn't to yell meaningless phrases like "Dodge it!" or "Hang in there!" Pokémon aren't robots. If they're in danger, they'll naturally dodge. If there's an opening, they'll naturally strike.

Instead, Mei's mind raced, analyzing the situation.

"From what I've read online, this Corvisquire knows a lot of moves—Protect, Roost, and aerial moves like Drill Peck. A prolonged battle isn't in our favor, but Snivy's current tactics are all about endurance…"

She furrowed her elegant brows, mentally noting the need to teach Snivy more moves after this battle.

Still, it couldn't be helped. With Snivy's Contrary ability, its potential as a "future ace" was unquestionable. Once it evolved into Serperior and learned Leaf Storm, its combat power would skyrocket. But until then, it was merely "decent."

"Caw!"

High above, Corvisquire flapped its wings, sending several transparent blades slashing toward Snivy. It was using Air Slash, a move it had only just learned yesterday. Though its mastery wasn't high, it got the job done.

Many times, proficiency in a move only needs to be "good enough," as demonstrated now.

Corvisquire rained down Air Slash attacks, forcing Snivy into a frenzied retreat to dodge. Occasionally, it would dive at high speed, delivering a close-range Drill Peck before retreating to safety.

"Ugh!"

Snivy narrowly avoided a Drill Peck, rising from the ground covered in dirt. Its emerald body was now stained with mud, and its red eyes burned with fury.

Its own attacks had been utterly ineffective. Even its Magical Leaf, which should have homed in, was mostly blocked by Corvisquire's Protect. The few hits that landed barely fazed the bird, who still looked as energetic as ever, hurling taunts with its usual fervor:

"Such pitiful efforts amount to nothing!"

"Kneel and gaze up at me in awe!"

"Realize your weakness and despair!"

If Butterfree's typical combo was something like "Stun Spore → Toxic → Psybeam → Air Slash," Corvisquire's strategy could be summed up as:

"Air Slash → Trash Talk → High-Speed Dive → Trash Talk → Drill Peck → Trash Talk x3 → Air Slash → Close-Range Trash Talk."

If there ever came a rule banning mid-battle dialogue, Corvisquire's combat effectiveness would be halved.

Eventually, Snivy collapsed in defeat. Its attacks, though accurate, lacked impact—a classic case of "scratching the surface."

This was understandable. While Snivy's special attack stat was decent, there's a thing called level suppression.

At just over level 20, Snivy had only recently learned Leech Seed, an impressive milestone for a novice trainer's Pokémon. But Corvisquire was already level 35 and nearing evolution. The gap was undeniable.

Defeat was inevitable, though Snivy wasn't sure whether it lost due to Corvisquire's strength or sheer frustration.

If it could, Snivy would've gladly yanked out Corvisquire's beak and shoved it somewhere unpleasant.

Just you wait, feathered freak. One day, I'll tear that smug look off your face and plant grass on your skull!

Cradled in Mei's arms, Snivy glared daggers at Corvisquire.

"We'll stop the battles here for now," Mei said, applying a potion to Snivy's injuries. "My other two partners would likely fare no better than Snivy."

She offered an apologetic smile to Natsume. "I'll return for a rematch once we've grown stronger."

Some trainers advocate for constant combat, arguing that losing builds character. But sending your Pokémon into a clearly unwinnable battle just to "learn their limits" is pointless. Mei had no interest in subjecting her partners to unnecessary beatings.

"Sorry for the trouble, Natsume," Mei said, her demeanor shifting back to that of a bright and cheerful girl.

Accepting the small, resealable bag Natsume handed her, she peered curiously at the glistening Pokéblocks inside.

She'd heard about these online—Natsume was supposedly a master at crafting Pokéblocks, surpassing even recognized experts. But anyone with common sense knows not to fully trust online information. At best, believe 30–40% of it. The rest is likely exaggerated.

Still, she couldn't deny her curiosity.

"It's no trouble at all," Natsume replied, waving dismissively. He wasn't particularly invested in battles. If challengers came, he'd fight. If not, he'd sunbathe.

Most of the time, he let his Pokémon handle battles for him while he managed the farm.

"By the way, Mr. Natsume," Mei asked as they walked, "what made you decide to take over this farm?"

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