Pokémon: Farm Story

"You're saying a Pokémon was watching us while we were cleaning just now?"

Wearing an apron, sleeves rolled up, and a mask over his face, Natsume looked every bit the image of a professional cleaner as he stared in surprise at the Rookidee.

"Caw, caw, caw!"

Hovering in midair, the Rookidee nodded fervently, flapping its wings and gesturing with them in an attempt to describe the scene.

"Over in those bushes?"

"Caw!"

"Oh, and it's about the same size as you?"

Man and Pokémon conversed seamlessly, as if there were no barriers.

As a modern-day transmigrator, having a little cheat ability was practically a given.

Natsume didn't have some silly AI system that could turn into his wife, nor did he gain any particularly cool powers. Instead, upon arriving in this world, he had an encounter that could only be described as divine.

He vaguely remembered seeing a Pokémon, one revered as the great deity of Hisui—a llama (scratched out)—no, the creator Arceus.

In a haze, Natsume had been drawn into a unique space.

Under an infinite starry sky, Arceus's radiant form shone brilliantly. Its teal-green eyes gazed at Natsume quietly.

What happened afterward was a blur, but when Natsume awoke, he found his world profoundly changed.

He could understand the meanings behind Pokémon cries.

By focusing intently, he could see detailed information about a Pokémon.

His mind had been flooded with a vast amount of then-incomprehensible knowledge.

And he felt a strange energy within him, akin to the power of Aura or Viridian energy.

Natsume had come to regard these changes as blessings from Arceus. Thinking of it that way made them much easier to accept.

"Caw, caw, caw!"

The Rookidee on the ground scratched a few marks into the dirt with one claw, trying to convey some information.

But…

"I still don't understand what you're trying to say."

Natsume sighed in exasperation at the abstractness of the Rookidee descriptions.

What did "walks on two legs like you but has a green head" even mean?

Could the Pokémon it saw have been something from the Ralts evolutionary line?

But when Natsume asked if the Pokémon's body was white, the Rookidee shook its head.

As for the patterns it scratched in the dirt, Natsume could only shake his head.

Truly, abstraction was a gift—one that he clearly didn't possess.

"Well, let's set aside that Pokémon for now."

"Rookidee, why don't you go check out the berry grove? Be careful, though."

He gently patted the Rookidee's head with a gloved hand before turning back to his cleaning tasks.

Earlier, Natsume had checked the water and electricity in the house. Though old, everything was still functional, which made the cleaning process much easier.

While this two-story house was charming in its design and would undoubtedly be comfortable to live in, it was a nightmare to clean—especially without a Psychic-type Pokémon.

Although his Butterfree had learned Confusion as part of its training, it wasn't a true Psychic-type, and levitating small objects was its limit. Precision work remained firmly in the domain of Psychic-types.

The sun gradually dipped toward the horizon, tinting the sky with hues of amber.

Thanks to the combined efforts of Natsume and Butterfree, the interior of the two-story house no longer resembled the neglected ruin it had been.

"Good work."

Removing his gloves and mask, Natsume pulled a small box from his pocket.

Inside were translucent, jewel-like Pokéblocks. He took out two and handed them to Butterfree.

Butterfree's compound eyes lit up as it eagerly clutched the Pokéblocks, nibbling away happily.

Natsume had made these Pokéblocks himself, modifying the original recipes to suit his Pokémon's tastes.

Ah, thank you once again, Arceus.

The knowledge that had once been incomprehensible turned out to include a treasure trove of Pokéblock recipes and crafting techniques.

With this knowledge, Natsume could have made a living purely as a Pokéblock craftsman.

He wasn't entirely sure why Arceus had given him such knowledge, but he was deeply grateful.

Maybe he should build a shrine for Arceus once the farm was up and running.

But what kind of shrine would the creator like?

Would it appreciate something flashy, like those anime-style setups with automatic lights and speakers that played Start Dash whenever someone approached?

…

On second thought, maybe not.

"You too, good work, Persian."

At the doorway, Natsume scratched Persian's head affectionately.

Persian leaned into his hand, rubbing its head against him and purring contentedly as its tail swayed lazily.

While petting Persian, Natsume scrolled through his phone contacts.

"Ah, here it is."

He dialed a number labeled "Moving Company."

Before coming here, Natsume had arranged for his belongings to be delivered to the farm.

After a brief conversation, the moving company confirmed that they would deliver his items the next morning.

"That's settled, then," Natsume said with a satisfied smile.

"All that's left is the farm renovations and initial preparations."

Since the house still smelled damp from the cleaning, Natsume sat on the ground outside with Persian and Butterfree.

He flipped through a notebook filled with plans he'd jotted down earlier, updating his to-do list on his phone.

The notebook outlined everything Natsume believed needed doing, both before his arrival and after inspecting the farm.

Next to the line "Clean the house," he added a small checkmark.

"So, today and tomorrow's goals are to finish setting up the house, contact a construction company to start the renovations, and introduce ourselves to the neighbors."

Snapping the notebook shut with a satisfied grin, Natsume turned to Butterfree and Persian.

"Let's do our best!"

"Brii!" Butterfree responded softly, its wings fluttering gently.

Persian, ever the aloof one, didn't react, though its tail swayed a little faster, softly thumping against the ground.

"Caw, caw!"

A familiar cry rang out from the sky.

"Looks like our little scout is back."

Dusting off his pants, Natsume stood and stretched.

Ah, to be young again.

Even after a full day of cleaning, he still had energy to spare.

If this had been his previous, overworked corporate self, he'd have been completely drained just from sitting at his desk all day.