By the time the mushrooms and herbs were all in the ground, the last rim of sunlight had slipped behind the hills and a fine night rain began to fall. The sky dimmed, silver needles slanting down to stipple the newly tilled earth with bright splashes.
Not far off, the spores Noah and Lopunny had sown were already pushing through their cover of soil. The rain had come at exactly the right moment.
"Master, the rain's getting heavier," Lopunny said, opening her palm to feel the cool drops. As a Normal type she did not mind a little weather, though her plush ears itched where the water clung.
Noah cupped a hand over her head. "Then let's hurry back. Time for dinner."
The eaves still dripped like strings of glass beads when the door creaked open. Shaking the water from his sleeves, Noah stepped in and nearly bumped into a familiar silhouette.
In the kitchen, Gardevoir was on tiptoe reaching for a crock from the top shelf, white chiffon skirt fluffed warm by the stove, lace edging peeking where her stockings hugged her ankles.
"You're back," she said, turning with a smile that curved her eyes.
Gardevoir had grown up at Noah's side, and she cooked as gracefully as she battled. Under the soft light she set out the dishes, then tipped her skirts with a playful flourish. "So, dinner first, or…"
"Dinner," Noah said, tapping each of them on the forehead with his chopsticks before either could get carried away. "Both of you, sit."
Gardevoir cradled her brow with a theatrical little whine. Lopunny, cheeks pink, folded her hands and behaved. Noah only sighed, then rose to serve rice for the two Pokémon girls who never missed a chance to fluster him.
They ate well. Afterward, as Gardevoir all but tugged Noah toward the bedroom with a hopeful look, the house phone rang and scattered her plans.
"Hello, is this Noah?" came Whitney's bright voice the moment he picked up.
"It is. What's wrong, Whitney?"
The farm still used a few old fixtures, including the clunky landline. On the other end Whitney hesitated, then found her words.
"Grandpa heard from me about the Miltank calves I sent to you. He says one of them might be having a problem. Normally a Miltank produces about twenty liters of milk a day, and if you don't relieve the pressure regularly it gets uncomfortable. But there's a shiny one in the group that's different. Since it was born it keeps to itself and attacks anyone who tries to come close to milk her. No one even Grandpa can get near. What's strange is that she doesn't seem to show the usual signs of discomfort even though she hasn't been milked."
"I see."
Even within the same species, differences added up. Some were tougher, quicker, steadier. Some were simply unusual.
"So could I ask you to look after the shiny Miltank in particular?" Whitney's cheer dipped to a careful plea.
"Of course," Noah said with a smile she could hear. He knew what she was really worried about. A farmer could call a Miltank that refused to be milked a bad investment. Some would have sent her away.
Noah's view had never fit that mold. In his old world or this one, Pokémon were not tools. They were partners. Family, if they chose to be.
"Gardevoir, I need to check the pasture," he said, pinching her cheek when he hung up.
Gardevoir made an eloquent noise of tragic disappointment, then let him go with a look that promised they would revisit the matter later.
Outside, the rain had stopped. Noah crossed the grass to the old shelter. The herd had moved in from the open field, gentle heads lifting when he stepped inside.
He counted quickly. Twenty-three. One short.
The missing one, of course, was the shiny.
"Did she slip off on her own?" he murmured, frowning as he walked deeper into the shed.
At the back he pushed aside a loose plank.
A girl with a baby face and a curvy, compact frame sat curled in the corner, arms crossed protectively over her chest, eyes wide and wary. Her coloring was different from the others, a soft sheen that marked her as the shiny Whitney had described.
"Master?" she said in a small voice, as if she could not quite decide between hope and fear.
Noah crouched to make himself smaller and offered a calm smile. "It's alright. I'm Noah. This is your home now."
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