Chapter Text
The work on the farm is always demanding, but rewarding. Plowing, digging, harvesting, pulling weeds, checking the fences, preparing the hay, making sure no Wooloo escape…
One of the older cousins’ Ludicolo and Lurantis take care of watering the plants and keeping them fresh, while another cousin fixes the barn door with the help of his Machamp.
Mudsdale pulls the plow without difficulty, while Floette floats around them, overseeing the work, her little flower swaying gently with her movements.
“That’s it… there we go,” Ziara says when Mudsdale reaches the end of the field. “Good job, Mudsdale.”
Before unhooking the plow, she strokes her Pokémon’s neck, always grateful to her partner.
Floette watches her as Ziara drags the tool over to the small shed nearby, attentive to her movements.
“Let’s go get the hay, Mudsdale.”
The massive mare nods, following her with that calm, steady presence of hers. Floette drifts toward the flowers beside the barn, making sure they’re still in good shape. Ziara’s father once tried to pull them out, calling them weeds, but Ziara—knowing that, for some reason, Floette had grown fond of them—stopped him. And it worked, because every day the little fairy comes back to check on them, tending to the ones that begin to wilt.
Meanwhile, Mudsdale and Ziara take care of the hay. The former tosses the bales onto the cart with her powerful hind legs, with more precision than one might expect from a Pokémon of her size. Ziara had heard that Mudsdale could do this, so years ago, when her partner was still a Mudbray, they practiced their aim together. At first… it didn’t go quite as well as a younger Ziara had imagined, but over time the Pokémon perfected it. By now it’s so ingrained in their routine that Ziara doesn’t even watch her anymore—she just passes her the bales or heads back to Floette to check on the flowers with her.
“All done?” Ziara notes as soon as Mudsdale sends the last bale onto the cart. “That’s my girl.”
She makes sure everything is properly set (of course it is) before tying the cart to Mudsdale’s back, guiding her toward the Wooloo feeders.
They should be arriving soon—Harley took them out to graze a couple of hours ago, looking for the best flowers in the fields. And sure enough, as Ziara places the hay bales where they belong, little cottony balls begin rolling down the slope.
“Woo!” declares the first to arrive, stopping just a few centimeters from Ziara. She’s grateful the Pokémon didn’t knock her over. It’s an experience she’s had many times and never feels like repeating.
“Loo!” adds the second, immediately heading for the hay.
“Good afternoon to you too. Did you find nice flowers?”
A third Wooloo nods, bumping his head lightly against Ziara’s leg. She crouches down, stroking his soft wool. And a moment later, she’s surrounded—each Wooloo wanting its turn for attention. Another, more mischievous one, even tugs at her braid from behind.
“Hey, hey, careful. Stay still!”
Ziara points a finger at the naughty Wooloo, trying to look at least a little stern, but the little one looks at her with those adorable eyes and smile, and Ziara can’t keep up the act.
“Alright, fine, you just wanted attention, didn’t you? But don’t pull my braid.”
Ziara crouches down again, scratching the Wooloo between her little horns, and she nods, clearly committed to the idea of not biting braids anymore.
“Wooloo, woo.”
“We’ll see how long that innocence lasts.”
A moment later, a “Yam, Yam” echoes from down the slope. Harley appears alongside Yamper, running with the last few Wooloo lagging behind. By the time he reaches them, Ziara has almost finished placing the last bales, and the Wooloo, content, are already eating without a care in the world. As always.
Harley slows to a stop in front of them, catching his breath. Even though her brother is still growing, Ziara takes quiet pride in being taller than him. Whether that will remain the case once Harley reaches her age is something time will tell, but for now, Ziara can enjoy that small personal victory.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“Really good,” he pants with a grin. “We made it all the way to the top of the hill and there were tons of flowers. They stuffed themselves.”
“All the way to the top? The peak?”
“Yeah. Going up wasn’t the hard part—it was keeping up with them when they started rolling down.”
Harley sighs and flops onto the ground on his back, exhausted.
“Arceus, they’re so fast. At least Yamper helped me make sure none of them wandered off. Speaking of Yamper, today we caught a couple of Nickit trying to steal my bread while I was distracted. But Yamper noticed, so we battled.”
Ziara raises an eyebrow. Not surprised—critical.
“You’re picking fights with wild Pokémon now?”
Harley sits up, offended.
“Hey, I wasn’t picking fights—they were trying to steal my bread!”
Mudsdale lets out a snort that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, though her expression remains as impassive as ever. Yamper, for her part, nods firmly with a determined “Yamper!”
“Do what you want, but don’t go overboard,” Ziara reminds him.
Harley’s expression sobers for a moment, shaking his head.
“Of course not. I even left them some berries. Oran and Cheri,” he says proudly. “You know, to recover and for the paralysis.”
Harley seems to be looking for some kind of recognition for his choice. Well, for once, Ziara can give it to him.
“Very good,” she replies, her voice and expression fairly deadpan. But Harley lights up anyway and nods, proud.
“I was nice to them.”
“I can see that. Anyway, let’s see when you finally evolve Yamper—it’s about time.”
Harley frowns, offended again.
“Hey, don’t criticize Yamper, she’s doing her best.”
“I’m not criticizing her. I’m criticizing you.”
Ziara scratches Yamper under the chin, smiling at her.
“Wait, why me?”
Ziara ignores him and turns to Mudsdale.
“I think we’re done for today. Let’s get that off you.”
Mudsdale nods, following Ziara as she turns and heads back toward the barn, Floette floating along behind them. Ziara deftly unfastens the straps, her hands calloused but gentle against her partner. Here and there, she runs a hand along Mudsdale’s back, pleased with her work.
“You both did really well today,” Ziara comments once she’s finished with all the straps, stroking Mudsdale one more time and smiling at Floette, satisfied. “Let’s see what we’ve got for dinner. But first…”
Ziara disappears, returning a moment later with two bowls of berries—one large for Mudsdale and a smaller one for Floette.
“Flooo—” Floette spins in the air, her flower swaying with her. Ziara can’t help but smile again.
“You’ve earned it. As always, but Aunt said these were left over today, so…”
Mudsdale gently presses her muzzle against Ziara’s cheek, nudging her with care, and Ziara’s smile widens.
“It’s nothing.”
Her hands slide along Mudsdale’s sturdy neck, scratching in the spots Ziara knows her partner enjoys most, but eventually she pulls back and gestures toward the bowl.
“Go on, eat while I put the rest away.”
Ziara sets Floette’s bowl on a worktable that really shouldn’t be sitting next to the barn. Since Floette always floats, Ziara finds it strange to feed her on the ground. And her little fairy seems to appreciate it, brushing Ziara’s cheek (the opposite of the one Mudsdale lovingly rubbed) with her flower before picking up one of the berries.
Ziara takes the cart into the barn, placing it back in its spot while her partners eat. She makes sure all the straps are where they should be, as she does every day, and then returns to her Pokémon.
Mudsdale nudges her face again with her muzzle, and Ziara lets out a small laugh, scratching under her chin.
“Go on, keep eating.”
The farm work is almost done, the crops are already tended to, and the Wooloo are happy, their bellies full. Ziara grabs the brush she always keeps for Mudsdale and starts brushing her, the last golden rays of sunlight warming the mare’s brown coat.
Ziara brushes, clearing away the dust and bits of hay from a full day’s work. Most of her cousins, aunts and uncles have already finished their tasks, so the fields feel almost empty, aside from the occasional “Woo” and the distant sound of her mother putting tools away down the slope.
It’s… nice. The satisfaction of knowing her work is done, of being able to enjoy this quiet after the effort. She likes working on the farm with everyone—having her own responsibilities, carrying them out with Mudsdale and Floette.
And this peace. This peace at dusk, with the sun setting behind the mountains, the Wooloo calm, the distant sounds of dinner being prepared in the house.
“So peaceful,” Ziara murmurs, running the brush carefully along Mudsdale’s back.
The Pokémon nods, nudging her again affectionately, while Floette spins once more in the air.
“Flo, Floette.”
Yes, so peaceful… until it isn’t.
“Ziara!”
Floette lifts into the air with a half-eaten berry just in time to see Bayley running toward them. Nine years old, still too young to help much—at least, according to the adults. Ziara disagrees. At that age, she had done far more than Bayley does now. Because not everyone could work yet, her father had said, but that’s not Ziara’s problem.
Her Wooloo runs after her. A shiny one that Bayley claimed as her partner the moment she hatched.
“Ziara, I want a Floette!”
The older girl doesn’t even look up from Mudsdale’s back.
“You know I have Floette because Sage brought her from Paldea.”
“Then a Flabébé.”
“Bayley, if there’s no Floette, there’s no Flabébé either.”
Ziara ignores Bayley’s pout, still brushing Mudsdale. Her own Floette drifts closer to the little girl, as if trying to comfort her.
“Well then, help me find some other Pokémon for my team.”
“Why do you want another Pokémon?”
“To keep Wooloo company!” Bayley replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Ziara raises an eyebrow, mildly amused.
“It’s not like there’s any lack of company in this house.”
The little girl huffs, annoyed.
“You know what I mean! I need another Pokémon on my team! Take me to the Wild Area!”
Ziara goes still for a moment.
“No.”
“Ziara!”
“Ask Harley. Or Dad. Or Aunt. Or any of the fifteen cousins we have.”
“There aren’t fif—”
“I know, Bayley. The point is, ask literally anyone else, I have things to do.”
“But I want to go with you.”
“But I don’t want to go.”
Floette looks at Ziara with reproach. Great. Now she too.
“Ette, Flo, Floeeette.”
“Don’t take her side,” Ziara complains.
At least Mudsdale doesn’t seem particularly sympathetic. She just… keeps that mostly unreadable expression of hers.
“Ziara, please, take me to the Wild Area. Mudsdale is really strong, she can protect us if anything happens. Or Corviknight. Or even Floette.”
“Don’t talk about Floette like she’s weaker,” Ziara scolds. Floette is excellent.
“Fine, even better. The three of them can protect us. And you’re really smart, you’ll know where to go, and I’m sure you’ll find the Pokémon I want, and you’ll handle everything perfectly.”
“My refusal to go to the Wild Area isn’t because I can’t, it’s because I don’t feel like it. I have things to do. Besides, what Pokémon do you even want?”
Bayley hesitates for a moment.
“…Toxel.”
“No,” Ziara says immediately, pausing the brush against Mudsdale. “They’re unbearable.”
Judging by the little girl’s face, Ziara can already tell Toxel is just one idea among many.
“Pikachu?”
“That’s the most basic Pokémon.”
“Morpeko. They’re adorable.”
“No, it would destroy the orchard.”
“Sage has one!”
“Sage can handle her Morpeko. You couldn’t.”
Ziara can see Bayley starting to get frustrated.
“You just keep saying no! What Pokémon will you let me have?”
The older girl tries not to soften at her tone. What Pokémon will you let me have, she says, as if that were her decision to make.
“I don’t decide that. Mum, Dad and our aunts and uncles do,” Ziara replies a second later than she should.
“But I want you to let me…” Bayley murmurs.
No. Ziara is convinced her sister does it on purpose—that tone, that looking up at her like that… Even her Wooloo is in on it, staring at her with those irresistible eyes.
“…Something you like, but that doesn’t cause too much chaos.”
Bayley’s face lights up. It’s nice to see her like that, but Ziara forces herself to focus on brushing Mudsdale, who glances at her out of the corner of her eye. She’s been brushing the same spot for two minutes now.
“So you’ll take me then?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll tell Mum!”
Tch. This little manipulator… Ziara could take her to the Wild Area, but out of sheer stubbornness she doesn’t want to. And she’s definitely not giving in to that tiny tyrant’s blackmail.
“Go ahead.”
And indeed…
“Mum! Ziara doesn’t want to do things with me!”
Funny how the story changes when it suits her, Ziara thinks.
Their poor mother appears moments later, trousers still smeared with mud.
“What’s going on?”
“I asked Ziara to take me to the Wild Area and she just keeps saying no!”
“I have things to do here!” Ziara defends herself. “Or outside. I do go out sometimes.”
Their mother gives them a tired smile.
“Don’t be mean to your sister, Ziara. Take her some day when you don’t have plans.”
“But the farm—”
“The farm won’t fall apart if you leave for a day, I promise,” the woman reminds her.
Bayley looks at Ziara hopefully. If she were at least smug about it, it would be easier to get annoyed. Mudsdale and Floette both give their trainer a look, already knowing she’s going to give in. It’s not like she has much of a choice, this is turning into group pressure, and it’s only going to get worse the longer she refuses.
“Well… we’ll see. Maybe.”
Bayley lets out a happy squeal.
“Wooloo, that means yes!”
Her Wooloo nods, as if obviously of course that’s a yes, and Ziara doesn’t quite have it in her to point out that it was not a yes—but who would she even be convincing.
“Wooloo, Loo!”
As her mother and sister head back toward the house and Ziara puts Mudsdale’s brush away, she lets out a sigh. She had it so peaceful here on the farm, with her tasks and her routine…
But in a family as big as hers, a “no” to the youngest turns into parents, brother, aunts, uncles and cousins insisting until she changes her mind. And besides—Ziara has to admit—seeing her sister’s face light up like that…
Manipulation. That’s what all of this is.
At least Mudsdale and Floette will get a change of scenery, she thinks. That’s the best they can take from this. And the thought of walking through the safer areas of the Wild Area with her partners almost makes Ziara forget that she’s been completely coerced into giving in.
Almost.