Pokémon: Farm Story

In the clearing, the battle between Minccino and Rookidee was about to begin.

"Mi!"

Among the two opponents, it was Minccino who first lost patience.

She didn't understand strategy or tactics—only that gaining the upper hand at the start usually meant winning.

Lowering her body to the ground, Minccino suddenly dashed forward and leapt high into the air. Her tail began to glow with a dazzling white light.

Tail Whip!

As adorable as Minccino looked, her early-stage move pool was limited, mostly comprising status and utility moves.

"Caw caw!"

Rookidee, however, remained calm. He simply chose to ascend, flying higher into the sky.

Minccino's confident strike landed on empty air.

Flying Pokémon had an inherent advantage against grounded opponents. They could strike at will while remaining out of reach.

Energy began to gather in Rookidee's eyes.

Leer! His sharp gaze intimidated his opponent, reducing her defense.

Minccino stiffened mid-fall, nearly losing her balance upon landing.

But Rookidee wasn't done yet. Circling in the sky, he alternated between Leer and Hone Claws, enhancing his own attack and accuracy.

Minccino, now fuming, wanted nothing more than to pluck every single feather off this smug bird.

But alas, she couldn't even touch him.

From the sidelines, Natsume observed the entire match without issuing a single command.

There were several reasons for his silence—chief among them being the importance of fostering independent battle instincts in Pokémon.

Think about this: a Dragonite can circle the globe in 16 hours.

Now, how long would it take for Dragonite to cross a battlefield?

Natsume didn't know the exact time, but it was certainly faster than any human could react.

By the time you noticed Dragonite moving, its punch would already be planted firmly on its opponent's face.

This wasn't limited to Dragonite. While most Pokémon weren't that fast, the difference wasn't significant.

Whether a trainer couldn't react at all or could barely react but failed to give a timely command, the outcome was the same: no difference.

Thus, training Pokémon to make autonomous decisions during battles was an essential skill for every trainer—unless they were a psychic capable of telepathic communication or had a Pokémon with a unique battle style.

In essence, the relationship between a trainer and their Pokémon was akin to that between a coach and an esports player.

Pokémon fought in battles, while trainers focused on daily training, strategy development, and offering guidance during critical moments.

The trainer's job wasn't to micromanage every move but to provide insights and tactical adjustments.

"Caw!"

When Rookidee felt sufficiently powered up, he finally launched his offensive.

Diving from high above, he resembled a homing missile locked onto its target.

A gleaming light enveloped his beak—a sign of the Peck attack.

With multiple boosts to his attack and accuracy, and against a foe whose defense had been lowered, the outcome was inevitable.

"Mi-mi!"

Seated on the ground, Minccino waved her tiny paws and voiced her protests.

To be more precise, it wasn't just a protest—it bordered on outright verbal abuse.

She was spouting some surprisingly colorful language.

Even Natsume, busy treating her injuries, twitched at her choice of words.

For a Pokémon with such a cute appearance, who would've guessed she had… such "vocabulary."

High EQ interpretation: This kid could try her luck in the verbal battlegrounds of a competitive online game.

Low EQ interpretation: She's got quite the filthy mouth.

Rookidee, unimpressed by Minccino's outburst, dismissed her tantrum with a nonchalant attitude.

"You're just bad. Practice more."

This was a phrase Rookidee had picked up from Natsume's short videos. It seemed fitting, so he decided to use it.

"Mi!"

Minccino, glaring at Rookidee, made a silent vow:

One day, you mangy bird, I'll pluck every feather off you and stuff them down your throat!

"Alright, alright," Natsume said, smiling wryly as he healed her injuries.

This little one didn't seem to have the best temper.

"Now, as promised, we're partners from now on."

Taking out a Pokéball, Natsume held it out to Minccino.

Despite her anger toward Rookidee, Minccino held a degree of fondness for Natsume.

Besides, her best friend, Buneary, had already agreed to this arrangement.

Glancing at Buneary, who looked at her with hopeful eyes, Minccino sighed before slapping the Pokéball with her paw, allowing its red light to envelop her.

There was no turning back now. She could only hope she hadn't been tricked.

The Pokéball in Natsume's hand shook briefly before falling still.

"Come out, Minccino."

Reemerging from the Pokéball, Minccino stretched her body and carefully studied Natsume.

From now on, she had a trainer.

Although Natsume claimed he didn't plan to be a trainer, that wasn't a big deal.

If he wasn't a trainer, she wouldn't have to battle.

Some Pokémon were born to fight—driven by passion, destined for glory, and craving the thrill of the stage.

But Minccino wasn't one of them.

At least she trusted Buneary's judgment.

Natsume's face was… pleasing to look at.

Satisfied, Minccino nodded to herself.

Pokémon didn't just wait to be chosen by trainers—sometimes, they chose their trainers too.

It was a mutual decision.

"Alright, let's head back," Natsume said, pocketing Minccino's Pokéball.

Suddenly, Rookidee began to glow white.

"Caw-caw!"

Initially startled, Rookidee relaxed when Natsume reminded him it was just evolution.

In the brilliant light, Rookidee's body grew larger, reshaping itself.

When the light subsided, a new Pokémon stood in his place: Corvisquire.

"Caw!"

The newly evolved Corvisquire spread its wings wide, its proud posture exuding confidence.

It had taken the first step toward becoming a fierce aerial predator, known for its swift movements and fiery spirit

In certain regions, Corviknight were used as transportation for their size and speed—like a real-life ride-share service.

Just as Corvisquire was about to flaunt his presence, he noticed a gaze from below.

Looking down, he saw Persian, who had been quietly lying by Natsume's feet.

Instantly, Corvisquire deflated.

He meekly landed next to Natsume, his previous arrogance gone.

Docile mode: Activated.

Minccino, observing this scene, was stunned.

So, you're scared of someone too, huh?

To this, Corvisquire responded with a dismissive look.

Don't be naïve.

Part of his fear stemmed from Persian's long-standing bond with Natsume, which granted her special status.

The other reason?

Well, isn't catching birds just part of a cat's DNA?