Pokémon: Farm Story

Slowpoke—a Pokémon known for being brilliantly dense.

It's famous for its sluggish reactions and its unsuitability for battles. Even when attacked, it takes Slowpoke a good four or five punches to realize it's being hit, and another two or three punches to think about fighting back.

Though some individuals are a bit smarter, as a species, Slowpoke isn't ideal for combat, especially in its unevolved state. Their battling style is, well, lackluster. Half the time, they forget what strategy they were supposed to use.

Things improve significantly once they evolve, particularly into Slowking. At that point, the difference is night and day—one is universally seen as dim-witted, and the other sees everyone else as dim-witted.

That said, Slowpoke has its merits. They're gentle-natured and emotionally stable, even when faced with the most unruly kids. Plus, their tails secrete a sweet substance and can even detach naturally over time, making them a sought-after delicacy.

Still, these qualities describe normal Slowpoke. The one standing before Natsume? Definitely not normal.

At the edge of the farm, Natsume and the Slowpoke locked eyes in silence.

Its dull, dead-fish eyes lacked any worldly desire. Yet, unlike other Slowpoke, it didn't exude cluelessness. If anything, it seemed more… speechless.

To put it another way, it was the difference between a brainless fool and someone who has simply given up on life.

This Slowpoke's gaze wasn't that of an idiot. It was more akin to someone who was utterly fed up.

And standing behind it was a Mudkip.

As one of the most popular Water-type starters, Mudkip's potential was undeniable. Swampert, its final evolution, boasted a balanced stat distribution, great abilities, and broad move coverage. Water/Ground typing was only weak to Grass, and it could even Mega Evolve.

Mega Swampert was the epitome of brute force among Pokémon.

"Ah, crap," Natsume muttered, catching himself spiraling into his old trainer mindset. He slapped a hand over his face, a wry smile creeping onto his lips.

Though he had sworn off being a trainer, old habits clearly died hard.

Seeing the Mudkip startled by his sudden gesture and the Slowpoke growing even more exasperated, Natsume chuckled and asked, "Do you guys have any thoughts about joining the farm?"

"Slow?"

"Mud?"

Both Pokémon responded with confusion—one unsure of what to do, the other wondering what it could do.

"Ah, right," Natsume said, scratching his head. It was a silly question. Neither of them seemed ready for anything yet.

"I'll take you both to the pond later," he offered. "The view there is pretty nice."

The pond was linked to an underground river, attracting a variety of Pokémon that came and went. Permanent residents were rare, though this had changed recently.

Natsume had started tossing crushed PokéBlocks into the water, essentially "chumming" to attract Pokémon. Naturally, the pond's population began to grow.

Explaining the pond's setup and safety precautions, Natsume reassured the duo, "Be careful of the currents. They can be tricky."

After patting the dirt off his pants, Natsume addressed the rest of the group: "Alright, everyone, let's head to your new homes.

"I'll be around the farm most of the time, so if you have any issues, come find me. If you can't find me, one of the others will help."

Behind him, a gaggle of excited Pokémon followed like students on a field trip. None dared misbehave under the watchful eye of the bossy Persian.

---

Meanwhile, the Mightyena family had resumed their patrols, a duty they'd grown accustomed to.

Though the area was vast, Natsume's generosity made up for it. Free food, free lodging, and even training sessions for their offspring—it was hard to complain.

But something wasn't sitting right with the Mightyena mother.

She narrowed her eyes at a particular Bounsweet trailing at the back of the group.

It wasn't the smell—that was muddled from mingling with others. No, it was something about its movements.

They were… strange.

It felt like mixing hot tea with a splash of cold frog water—something just didn't belong.

Quietly, she called over her smartest child, a Poochyena with a red scarf around its neck, and whispered a few instructions.

The pup nodded, slipping away unnoticed while the rest of its clueless siblings remained distracted.

The mother sighed, glancing at her oblivious mate.

He had grown duller since joining the farm. While she knew he wasn't the sharpest to begin with, this was almost too much to bear.

"Forget it," she muttered. "He's sleeping outside tonight."

---

Back with Natsume, the journey to the pond was slow. Slowpoke's pace dictated the speed of the entire group.

At one point, Natsume considered carrying it, but he quickly dismissed the idea.

Not because it was tiring, but because of those eyes.

Looking into them stirred an inexplicable irritation in him. Something about that deadpan gaze made his blood simmer.

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