After exchanging greetings, Wade led the construction team toward the pasture.
"Moo~"
At the sight of his familiar figure, the Miltank basking lazily in the sun lifted their heads in unison, a chorus of soft greetings rising from the herd. A gentle breeze swept across the meadow, stirring the lush grass into rolling waves and carrying its sweet, green fragrance through the air.
"What a piece of land..." Kimura breathed, surveying the expanse with genuine appreciation.
While he directed the workers to begin unloading materials, Wade scouted the perfect location for the new shelter—a spot where the pasture met a clear, burbling stream. Within minutes, dozens of sturdy Machamp were hauling lumber, stone, and bags of quick-dry cement from the trucks.
Digging. Foundation-laying. Framing. With Pokémon aiding every step, the construction moved at a pace that would have seemed miraculous in his past life.
Beyond the shed, other teams paired with Machamp to begin fencing the farm's perimeter, carrying logs and posts to mark the boundaries.
Beside him, Tinkaton watched it all with barely contained restlessness. Her hammer swung in small, impatient arcs. No one had assigned her any work.
Resentment was too mild a word.
"Tinkaton. How would you like a job?"
"Buru?!"
Her head snapped up. Her eyes went wide, then brilliant.
R-Really?!
"Of course. The farm could use your help."
Wade smiled and patted her little head. Truth be told, he'd been pondering exactly how to win over this wild powerhouse. An invitation to contribute—to build—seemed the perfect approach.
"Buru..."
The pink-haired violent loli went still under his hand. A faint flush crept across her cheeks. Her grip on the massive hammer tightened—not to swing, but to steady herself.
For the employer, she told herself firmly. Out of respect. Not because the head-patting feels...
Her eyes narrowed in unconscious contentment.
While the little Pokémon dissolved under his skilled head-patting technique, Wade called out to Kimura. "Mr. Kimura, any spare planks? I'd like to borrow some. Tinkaton and I have a renovation project of our own."
After days of relentless rain, the wooden cabin's ceiling had loosened in places. A few leaks had appeared. Until he saved enough for a proper farmhouse, reinforcing the old structure was essential. And what better partner than a Tinkaton who lived to craft?
"Help yourself." Kimura gestured toward the stacks without looking up from his saw. "Take what you need."
Machop and Machamp were already carrying bundles of weather-treated lumber, an extendable ladder, and boxes of iron nails toward the cabin. Perfect for reinforcing the old walls and patching the roof.
"Come on, then."
Wade gathered the materials and glanced at Tinkaton, who was practically vibrating with eagerness.
"Buru~!"
The first order of business: the roof.
Given the cabin's age and the steep pitch, Wade couldn't join her up there. He positioned the ladder against the eaves and climbed just high enough to observe and instruct.
Tinkaton scrambled onto the roof with surprising grace, her massive hammer somehow never slipping. She surveyed the weathered planks and sun-glinting nails with undisguised fascination.
"Alright. First, find any rotten or moldy planks. Pry them loose. Replace them with fresh ones from the stack." Wade pointed. "Apply wood glue to the joins, then nail them down securely."
"Buru!"
"Don't forget the chimney. Seal any gaps around it. Then nail a few planks on both sides at an angle—a diversion channel. That'll guide rainwater away instead of letting it pool."
He paused, eyeing her hammer meaningfully.
"And remember: gentle. No smashing. This is precision work."
"Buru~"
Tinkaton nodded with solemn dignity. Then she raised her hammer.
It moved like a blur—controlled, precise, almost dancelike. Rotted planks surrendered to careful prying. Fresh lumber seated itself with clean, satisfying thunks. Nails sank flush with the wood in perfect rhythm.
Wade watched, impressed. In just minutes, she'd begun to move like a master forger.
"Excellent. I'll leave you to it."
He descended the ladder, satisfied she had it well in hand.
Inside, the cabin awaited its own transformations. He'd prepared braces for the walls—the constant humidity had softened a few corners—and, most urgently, materials to reinforce the bathroom door. After the week's... activities... it had begun to list on its hinges.
Saw in one hand, hammer in the other, Wade set to work.
"Little Master~"
A soft, honeyed voice purred from behind him just as Wade raised his hammer to drive another nail.
He barely had time to turn before a wave of plush, warm softness engulfed him. Mienshao had struck.
"W-Wait! I'm not finished with—"
His protest died mid-sentence as the hammer, the nails, and the half-repaired door receded into the background. He was airborne, tackled by the kimono-clad mature woman who moved with the devastating precision of a predator who knew exactly what she wanted.
Note to self, he thought dimly as his face met yielding, fragrant warmth. Never turn your back on a Pokémon Girl in this house. They WILL ambush an unsuspecting Trainer.
Before he could so much as struggle, Mienshao's skilled hands had worked loose the ties of her lower garment. Her voluptuous, ripe curves settled onto him with breathtaking suddenness—soft, snowy flesh trembling around that burning heat. The tightness, even after all these days, still stole his breath.
Up on the roof, Tinkaton's hammer paused mid-swing.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She tilted her head, ear pressed to the shingles. A rhythmic pounding echoed from somewhere inside the cabin—steady, forceful, even vigorous. The frequency and power behind it surpassed her own nail-driving efforts by a considerable margin.
The little Pokémon swallowed hard.
A flicker of admiration kindled in her chest. She'd been up here working for a while now, and honestly? Her arms were starting to ache. But the Trainer, inside, was maintaining that relentless pace without pause. Growing stronger, even.
"Buru."
Her beautiful eyes reignited with fighting spirit. If her employer could work that hard, how could she slack off?
She raised her massive hammer and redoubled her efforts, each strike landing with renewed determination.
By the time Wade had... finished with Mienshao... and returned to his renovations, good news arrived from the pasture. The Miltank shed was complete.
He stood at the entrance, surveying the new structure with genuine appreciation. The scent of fresh cedar mingled with the clean smell of bluestone slabs. Sunlight slanted through the open doorway, illuminating:
On the left, a feeding trough carved from solid rock—chisel marks still visible, the floor angled just enough to let feed slide toward the drain, preventing mold. On the west side, a stone drinking trough fed by the nearby stream. And between them, low wooden partitions divided the space into cozy sleeping nooks, each piled high with thick, dry straw.
"Not bad at all."
Behind him, the workers and their Machop were loading the last of the materials onto trucks. The perimeter fence, he noticed, was also complete—sturdy wooden posts marching across the farm's boundaries.
Kimura approached, wiping sawdust from his hands. "All set. If you need anything else, you know where to find us." With a hearty chuckle, he climbed into the lead truck and led the convoy away.
Wade watched them go, marveling. In his past life, a project like this would have taken days, maybe weeks. Here, with Pokémon helping every step, half a day was plenty.
On the far side of the farm, a tiny detective was on the case.
Alcremie followed the faint trail of disturbed earth, the nearly invisible indentations in the grass. Her journey had taken her across winding paths, through thickets, past curious wild Pokémon who wisely stepped aside.
The clues had grown fainter. Almost gone.
Then she looked up.
A wooden cabin stood before her. Slightly weathered. A bit worn. To anyone else, just a simple farmhouse.
To Alcremie, it was the lair of the mushroom thief.
"Nai."
Her tiny jaw set with determination. She would not be deterred. She would not be stopped. Justice would be served.
She spotted a window—slightly ajar.
Perfect.
With the courage of the righteous, Alcremie began her daring climb.
Patreon Seasay. 30 advanced chapters