Evening in Hiyori Town.
Rain stitched the sky into silver threads as it drifted across the pasture and tapped softly on the old, weathered shed.
Inside, a petite girl with cotton-pink hair knelt in the corner, hugging herself for warmth. Her pale dress pooled around her like layered rose petals. At the sound of footsteps she looked up, eyes brightening at once.
"Master."
She sprang to her feet and threw her arms around Noah White. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Easy there, Miltank," he said gently.
Up close, everything matched what Whitney had said on the phone. This was the shiny Miltank who kept apart from the herd and would not let anyone touch her. Now she was trembling and clearly uncomfortable, hands pressed to her chest as if to hold in the pressure.
"It is alright," Noah said. "You are safe here."
She nodded, still anxious. Noah fetched the clean milking kit he kept for the pasture, washed his hands, and spoke in a calm, even voice so she knew what he was doing and why.
"I am going to help the way we help the others, slowly and carefully. If anything hurts or feels wrong, tap my arm and I will stop."
She hesitated, then gave a small, trusting nod.
Noah worked with a steady, practiced rhythm. The shed filled with the soft pulse of the hand pump and the quiet patter of milk landing in the sterile pail. The shiny Miltank let out a long breath, shoulders loosening as the pressure eased. Color returned to her face. When he finished, he capped the pail and handed her a clean towel.
"How do you feel now?"
"A lot better," she murmured, relief and shyness mingling in her voice.
"Good. If that tight feeling builds up again, come find me right away. We do everything on your terms."
She nodded again, more firmly this time.
Out in the house, Gardevoir had been tidying the kitchen and glanced toward the pasture, curiosity flickering across her face. Lopunny hovered by the doorframe, ears drooping with worry and then lifting with relief when Noah returned with the shiny Miltank walking steadily beside him.
Back in the shed, Noah crouched to address the little newcomer at eye level. "From now on, you can stay here, close to the house. The herd out on the grassland is in good shape, and we do not need to rush you. We will only help when you ask."
"Okay," she said softly, hugging the towel to her chest.
Noah escorted her to a quiet room by the kitchen so she could rest, then headed to his small desk to keep up his nightly routine.
He clicked on the lamp and opened the big farm ledger.
"League Calendar 2075, October 8, Hiyori Farm.
Income: Hard Stone, total 19,500 League Credits
Expenses: Fertilizer, total 6,000 League Credits
Today's work: set out mushroom spawn and medicinal herbs
Current farm funds: 63,500 League Credits"
He tapped the pen on the margin, thinking. The Hopo Grain and Roll Beans were in the ground. The fungus starters and herb patches were bedded. The next few weeks would be about careful watering and steady attention. The twenty-three Miltank on pasture would need scheduled milking about once a week. Yoshino's freight truck usually passed Hiyori in the afternoons, so regular sell-through should be simple. Tomorrow he would go to Hiyori Forest to collect Ariados or Spinarak silk and try weaving a large fishing net for the lake.
One step at a time, the farm was finding its rhythm.
A familiar figure ghosted through the doorway and eased the door shut with her mind. Gardevoir, in a white chiffon dress and pale stockings, gave him a look that blended pride and playful complaint.
"Master," she said, drawing the word out like a smile. "I could use some attention too. I may have overworked a little."
Noah laughed, stood, and tapped the chair beside the desk. "Then it is my turn to help you stretch and recover. Sit. We will do the shoulder routine and then tea."
Gardevoir obeyed with an exaggerated sigh of contentment. Lopunny peered in and, seeing only steam from the kettle and the neat little pile of towels, relaxed at last.
Outside, the rain gentled to a hush. Inside, the lamplight held steady over the ledger, the teacups, and a farm that was slowly, surely coming to life.