With the final spores and herbs nestled in their beds, the last amber glow of sunset slipped behind the mountain ridge. In its place came a soft, insistent drizzle, the kind that whispered of a long night. Silver needles of rain slanted down, pattering gently on the freshly turned earth at their feet.
Not far away, the newly planted mushroom spores seemed to sigh and stretch, visibly pushing against their leafy blankets in the suddenly damp, fertile dark. The rain, it seemed, had arrived at the perfect moment.
"Master, it's getting heavier," Lopunny murmured, holding out a palm to catch the cool drops. As a Normal-type, she didn't mind the rain like a Rock-type would, but the sensation of her fluffy ears growing damp and heavy was an odd, itchy discomfort.
"Then let's head back," Wade said, gently shielding her head with his hand. "Dinner won't cook itself."
The rain outside the cabin window fell in a steady, shimmering curtain. Pushing the creaky wooden door open, Wade shook the droplets from his hair and was greeted by a scene of domestic serenity—and provocation.
In the kitchen, a vision in white gauze stood on tiptoe, reaching for a ceramic pot on a high shelf. The gentle heat from the stove lifted the hem of her dress, offering a fleeting glimpse of the delicate lace border where her sheer white stockings ended.
"Master, you're back~"
Perhaps sensing his presence psychically, Ms. Gardevoir turned, her eyes already curving into mischievous crescents. Raised alongside her Trainer, she had cultivated not just power, but considerable culinary skill.
Under the warm glow of the living room lamp, after setting the final steaming dish on the table, she leaned forward deliberately. The motion hitched the hem of her dress higher. Her smile was a masterpiece of innocent suggestion.
"So, Master… would you like to have dinner first… or would you prefer to… eat—"
Nearby, Lopunny—who had been trying to act natural—felt her face combust. She peeked cautiously at her Trainer, who had taken his seat at the head of the table.
"Dinner," Wade declared, tapping both Pokémon Girls lightly on the head with his chopsticks in mock exasperation. "What era do you think this is? Using such an old line?"
"Ouch~"
Ms. Gardevoir clutched her forehead with a theatrical sob, though her eyes still sparkled.
Shaking his head at his perpetually scheming Psychic-type, Wade got up to serve rice for the two companions who seemed to hunger for more than just food. As he straightened, his gaze fell on Lopunny.
The bunny girl had her small hands pressed to her chest, her fair skin flushed a telling pink. Unconsciously, she had shifted in her seat, causing the plush, heart-shaped curve of her backside to lift and pout invitingly against the chair.
Wade, bowl in hand, simply pulled his stool closer to hers and—in one fluid motion—administered a response.
Swat.
"Mmm—! M-Master…!"
Lopunny's breath hitched, her pearly teeth catching her lower lip. Her long ears burned a scarlet so deep they seemed to glow. His large hand came to rest not as a punishment, but as a claim, cupping the sumptuous flesh through the slick black silk. It felt like grasping honeyed jelly, the pliant softness trembling against his palm with each of her shaky breaths.
She didn't understand it. Since her bold request that afternoon, a switch had flipped. A latent hunger she'd never acknowledged now thrummed just beneath her skin. She'd never imagined she could be as brazen as the figure across the table… and yet.
"S-so good…"
When his thumb found and pressed a particular, sensitive crest, a wave of warm, honeyed heat seemed to burst from her core. Lopunny shuddered violently, a broken whimper escaping as her powerful thighs snapped together. A slick warmth traced a path down her inner thighs, darkening the already provocative silk with damning evidence.
Wade, feeling the sudden damp heat through the fabric, raised an eyebrow. His gaze drifted to the white-silk-clad older sister opposite him, his message clear: Take notes. Next time, don't ask. Just present the merchandise, like a good bunny.
"Wuuu wuuu! Master, that's not fair! I want that too~!"
Ms. Gardevoir wailed in playful jealousy, watching the flustered Lopunny melt under their Trainer's attentions.
Later, after the meal, a thoroughly satisfied and still-craving Ms. Gardevoir was about to drag her Trainer off for a private… digestif, when a sharp, electronic trill sliced through the cabin's intimate atmosphere.
The phone on the wall was ringing.
"Hello? Hello? Is this Wade… Onii-chan?"
The moment the connection clicked, Akane's unmistakably bright and slightly breathless voice filled the line.
"Yes, it's me. What's up, Akane?" Wade replied, accepting the old-fashioned landline handset as it floated over via Psychic. The cabin was still full of such relics from his grandfather's time.
"Uhm…" Akane hesitated, the line crackling with static for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "It's about one of the Miltank calves. Grandpa asked me to call… she's a bit of a special case."
She took a steadying breath. "Normally, a healthy Miltank produces about 20 liters of raw Moomoo Milk a day. If you don't… help them relieve that pressure regularly, it gets really uncomfortable for them."
A soft sigh traveled down the line. "But this one… she's a shiny. A different color from the others. Ever since she was born, she's kept to herself. Anyone—anyone—who tries to get close to milk her gets chased off or butted away. Not even Grandpa could manage it."
Her voice grew puzzled. "The weird thing is, she doesn't seem to suffer for it. Even after going so long without being milked, she shows no signs of distress or illness. It's like her body works differently."
"I see," Wade said, understanding dawning. In this world, even within a species, individuals varied wildly. There were Pokémon with exceptional endurance, blinding speed, or unbreakable spirits. And then there were the truly unique ones—like a certain Pikachu known to challenge deities, a Meowth that spoke human tongues, or a Bewear of legendary, affectionate strength.
"Th-then, Wade Onii-chan…" Akane's voice turned earnest, tinged with a vulnerable hope. "Could you… maybe take special care of her? Please?"
Wade could hear the unspoken fear. To a practical farmer, a Miltank that wouldn't yield milk was a liability, a candidate for abandonment. He smiled softly into the receiver.
"Of course, Akane. You don't need to worry." His tone was gentle but firm. "She's under my care now, same as the others. I'll look after her."
For Wade, a Pokémon's utility was never the primary measure of its worth. Whether in his past life or this one, his core belief held true: Pokémon weren't tools to be used and discarded. They were partners. And sometimes, they could become family.
"Gardevoir, duty calls. I need to check on the meadow," he announced, hanging up the phone and giving the pouting Psychic-type—who was already attempting to climb into his lap—an apologetic pat on the cheek.
"Wuuu wuuu——!"
A theatrical wail of betrayal followed him as he disentangled himself from her clingy embrace and stepped outside.
The rain had ceased, leaving the world washed clean and fragrant. When he reached the eastern grassland, however, he found it empty. The herd had wisely relocated to the scant shelter of the dilapidated old barn.
"Moo…"
As he entered, the Miltank calves lifted their heads, greeting him with soft, trusting calls.
Wade did a quick headcount. One, two, three… twenty-three.
One was missing.
A quick scan confirmed it: the absent one was the differently colored Miltank Akane had described.
"Did she wander off?" he murmured, a frown creasing his brow as he moved deeper into the shadowy, hay-strewn interior of the barn.
At the very back, behind a leaning wooden partition, he found her.
Curled in a corner of loose straw was a girl with a youthful, delicate face that contrasted starkly with the astonishing, heavy fullness of her chest, which she hugged tightly to herself. Her hair and skin held the faint, ethereal gleam of a shiny Pokémon. Large, uncertain eyes lifted to meet his.
"M… Master?"