“Fur fur!!”
Run, run, run!!
“Furret!!”
Keep running!!
On the open field, a shiny Furret led a group of Furret aret in a chaotic sprint, yelling out strange slogans about “youth” and “bonds” that nobody else in the farm quite uood.
The Furret pack ran like it was some sort of petition, with no care for keeping formation. If one of them fell, no oopped; the fallen simply scrambled to their feet and tihe chase, eyes locked on the figure ahead.
“Servine…”
At the tail end of the pack, Serviruggled to keep up, gasping for breath. Its body was drenched i, as if it had just been fished out of a river.
And it wasn’t just Serviepig, Dewott, and Steenee were all putting every ounce of energy into staying in the race.
At first, they had felt fident, thinking, This training isn’t so bad after all.
But as their stamina drained away, they naturally fell to the back of the paow, they weren’t even close to catg up with the shiny Furret. Just keeping pace with the “reckless runners” was taking everything they had.
Do these guys never get tired?! Servihought bitterly, gring at the eitret running alongside it.
Half an hour earlier, when Natsume had mentiohat the farm’s Pokémon would serve as the trainers, Servine had beeical. Could this kind of training really be effective?
After all, if Pokémon could train themselves, what was the point of trainers? Were they just there to sign up Pokémon for petitions?
The truth was, one reason Pokémon chose to partner with human trainers was because trainers helped them grow stronger. If Pokémon could achieve that on their oould they betting captured? For fame and glory? Don’t make me ugh.
But now, just thirty minutes into this training, Servine’s perspective had pletely shifted.
Running with this group, ohing became clear: At the very least, my stamina is definitely going to improve.
No matter what kind of base stats or strategies a Pokémon had, stamina was the foundation. You could have the most brilliant tacti the world, but without the endurao execute them, it ointless. Even high-burst attackers like Weavile needed enough stamina to set up and strike decisively. If a Pokémon was too exhausted to take a hit, ny could save them.
“Phew…”
Tepig, the weakest of the bun terms of stamina, felt like it was teetering on the edge of colpse. Its vision began to blur, and it thought it saw a river ahead. On the far bank, something seemed to be waving at it…
“Slow…”
Standing on the sidelines, Slowking zily opes eyes.
With a casual wave of its hand, a surge of psychiergy caught the stumbling Tepig, gently ying it down beside the Slowking.
“Slow…”
Your stamina is terrible, Slowking muttered, scratg the back of its head in mild annoyance as it looked at the utterly spent Tepig.
Dressed like a proper coach, Slowking held a tactics board in one hand and a pen iher, occasionally jotting down notes. After rec Tepig’s trainis, it tossed the board and pen into the air, where its psychiergy kept them floating.
It rummaged through a nearby box, eventually pulling out a few vials of medie and a bag of Pokéblocks.
Teically, the vials were just energy supplements, simir to glucose but more effective.
“Slow…”
After giving Tepig the medie aing it aside, Slowking tis coag duties.
Natsume had promised to prepare more Psychic-type Pokéblocks soon, even developing a recipe tailored specifically for Slowking.
Champions ae Four Pokémon have eeams of experts colleg data and designing Pokéblocks for them, Slowking mused. And now I’m getting the same treatment? That’s amazing.
I have to work hard to repay Natsume’s efforts.
(Though, to be fair, the Pokéblocks are still in the “cept stage”… whispered a tiny voi Slowking’s head.)
As it reminisced, Slowking casually caught the colpsing Steeh its psychic power.
“Slow…”
It’s good to push yourself, but you o know your limits.
Its immense psychic power allowed Slowking to multitask effortlessly, keeping tabs on Servine and the others without even gng up.
“Servine!”
pared to Tepig and Steenee, Servine a were perf signifitly better. Though they were straining at the back of the pack, they hadn’t fallen behind pletely.
Which made sense. While Servine and the others were battle-oriented Pokémon trained by a human traiheir practice time was limited.
In the wild, they had to stay alert and cautious, never able to train at full iy.
In cities, time spent outside their Poké Balls was restricted, and training facilities had time limits. All these faeant they could rain as much as they wanted.
How could they pare to this group of Pokémon, who spent all day running wild on the farm?
Someone who occasionally jogged for fitness couldn’t hope to mateone surviving on a deserted isnd. They were on pletely different levels.
“Slow…”
Alright, time for a break. Lunch is ready, Slowking called out, pulling a pocket watch from behind its back.
(ocket watch? Because it’s stylish, obviously.)
The watch was something Natsume had bought during his edgy teenage years, thinking it looked cool. After sitting in a drawer colleg dust, it was finally dug out st night and cimed by Slowking.
“Servine.”
Servine plopped onto the ground, gng up at Slowking.
This Pokémon… was something else.
Its psychic power was leagues beyond anything Servine had ever seen.
“Servine.”
What’s on the schedule?
“Slow…”
Trash-talk resistaraining, followed by skill and bat drills iernoon. Before dinner, more trash-talk resistance. After dinner, free time.
Flipping through its tactics board, Slowking added, Your trash-talk resistaraining is pretty iing. If I knew how to trash-talk, I’d join in myself.
“Servine?”
Is Corviknight in charge of that part?
“Slow…”
Yep. The trash-talking shut-in bird.
“Servine.”
Got it.
g its tiny fists, Servine radiated determination.
This time, I’ll show that bird how much I’ve grown. I’m not the same weak Snivy I used to be!
However…
“Caw?”
Wait, who are you?
Tilting its head, Corviknight stared bnkly, its bird face full of fusion.
Snap.
In that instant, something broke inside Servine’s mind.
Gcell
