Pokémon: Farm Story

"Why did you choose to inherit a farm?"

This was a question Natsume had been asked countless times recently.

The answer was always the same:

Because he felt he might have some talent for it.

Because it was something left behind by his late uncle.

And most importantly, because there was a farm to inherit.

If, back then, he had been left with a major corporation instead, Natsume would have inherited that too. After all, such companies typically have well-established management systems—he'd just need to avoid any catastrophic decisions and he'd live comfortably.

Of course, this was just wishful thinking. There was no corporation for him to inherit.

"Something like that," Natsume replied casually. "Besides, I don't think I'm smart enough to be a great trainer."

As he teased the aloof, tsundere Snivy, Natsume spoke in a relaxed tone.

In this world, being a top-tier trainer requires more than just passion. It demands intelligence.

Type matchups, coverage strategies, the opponent's potential movesets, and their lineup order all had to be calculated.

One's own team needed constant adjustment based on the enemy's composition.

For each battle, there was an overwhelming amount to consider.

Those who charged forward with nothing but raw determination were often outmaneuvered by veteran trainers as soon as they stepped out of school.

This world might lack many things, but it certainly wasn't short of people who found amusement in "camping" at beginner-level areas just to crush newcomers.

Natsume had once aspired to be a scholar-level trainer, but reality said otherwise.

Crossing dimensions might change your appearance or habits—turning a 1.8-meter-tall man into a 1.5-meter albino with red eyes—but intelligence? That remained stubbornly fixed.

The idea of someone going from a scatterbrained university student to a calm, calculating genius plotting against brilliant minds was nothing but fantasy.

Besides, Natsume had always lived by the principle that brains were meant to rust.

Realizing his limitations, he decisively switched career paths.

"Got it." Mei nodded thoughtfully, then sighed nostalgically.

"Back in school, we had to memorize so much. The battle class teacher even made us watch battle videos and write analysis reports for homework. It was exhausting, especially after late-night study sessions."

"Exactly, right?"

In no time, the two bonded over shared frustrations about their school days.

For students—or recent graduates—complaining about school is the perfect icebreaker.

You think your school was bad? Wait till you hear about mine!

This kind of conversation naturally pulls out all the absurd stories from one's school life, bringing both sides closer together.

So long as no one insults each other's alma mater, of course.

After a round of shared grievances, their relationship had noticeably warmed.

"But Mr. Natsume, you're really amazing," Mei said with genuine admiration. "In just a couple of months, you turned an abandoned farm into this."

She glanced at a group of Zigzagoon scampering across the fields and couldn't help but marvel.

While she lacked any farming experience—being the textbook example of a high schooler with zero practical life skills—starting a farm from scratch sounded exhausting.

"It's nothing, really. The townsfolk were very supportive," Natsume replied modestly.

A lie, of course.

The truth was that after arriving at the farm, Natsume had transformed from a slightly introverted high school boy into a full-blown shut-in.

If unnecessary, he wouldn't step out of the farm. Even now, most people in town barely knew who he was.

Even the mayor, busy with his own responsibilities, didn't have time for idle chats. Unlike the leisurely, cane-toting village elders in anime, real-world mayors were far busier.

"Still, it's impressive," Mei insisted.

"And you're doing great too," Natsume said. "For a rookie trainer, you're off to a fantastic start."

Their conversation naturally veered into mutual compliments.

Looking at Mei, once a "protagonist" of sorts, Natsume felt surprisingly calm.

He didn't feel excited, let alone overwhelmed with adoration.

Instead, he saw her as an unfamiliar acquaintance—someone interesting but not idolized.

Sure, he felt some fondness toward her, but nothing so intense that he'd throw himself at her.

After all, Natsume was a "reserved man" (or so he claimed).

"By the way, Mr. Natsume, can I buy some Pokéblocks from you?" Mei asked suddenly.

Her primary reason for visiting, besides the battle challenge, was to purchase some of Natsume's renowned Pokéblocks.

The forums were abuzz with praise for his creations, claiming they were even better than what some top-tier professionals could make.

"Of course! What type are you looking for?" Natsume asked, his business instincts kicking in.

"I have a Snivy, Doublade, and Tepig in my team. Do you have any recommendations?" Mei replied thoughtfully.

As she spoke, a Zorua quietly crept up on the two of them.

"Zor?"

Seeing Natsume and Mei walking side by side, the Zorua skidded to a halt, then dived elegantly into a nearby bush before being noticed.

Peeking out from its hiding spot, the Zorua studied the pair mischievously. Its expression hinted at a cheeky plan forming in its mind.

Pink energy enveloped its small body, and in the blink of an eye, the Zorua vanished into the foliage.

"Hm?"

"What is it, Mr. Natsume?" Mei asked curiously.

"Nothing," Natsume replied, glancing back at the bush where the Zorua had been hiding. Something about it felt off, but he decided to let it go.

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