In a long-unused warehouse, a group of Pokémon surrounded an obviously broken-down, old diesel geor.

  They looked as if they were overworked office employees debating overtime or students stressed about an impending exam.

  “Zzz—”

  A rge yellow spider with pierg blue eyes stared at the outdated geor.

  It had seen others use simir maes to gee electricity, but as for how it worked... the logic was beyond it.

  The Galvantu had hoped that “things would work out somehow,” but this traption defied prehension.

  It wao dig a hole and hide itself.

  But feeling the expet gazes of its newborn Joltik children, it could only feign an air of intense focus, pretending to be iudy.

  Above the geor sat aric Flying Squirrel.

  No, not the iic Pikachu, but an Emolga.

  Despite its undeniable ess, Emolga’s s time in stories was surprisingly low.

  “Yimo.”

  So hungry…

  The little squirrel idly scratched its paw as its stomach rumbled.

  Living in the wild meant most Electric-type Pokémon couldn’t always find a power source, so they relied on berries to fill their bellies.

  But even berries had been scarce tely.

  Its gaze drifted to the Galvantu.

  Ever since meeting that spider, its luck had seemingly taken a nosedive.

  Behind the Galvantu, four tiny Joltik watched their father “work” with rapt attention.

  To a child, parents are often omnipotent, and for Pokémon, it was no different.

  Meanwhile, in a er of the warehouse, two sluggish Charjabug huddled together, looking utterly dejected.

  For Charjabug, life without electricity was catastrophic.

  If things tihis way, they feared they might starve to death.

  he clutter, a Pokémon rummaged through a pile of junk, its face obscured. Judging from its rounded posterior, it resembled a Ci.

  Emolga das legs thoughtfully, sidering its options.

  Stig with this group didn’t seem promising.

  They weren’t even friends—just Pokémon who had tally crossed paths during migration.

  “Maybe I should find a capable Traio take me in,” it mused. “Rely on my adorable looks and live a cushy life.”

  As it daydreamed, the warehouse doors creaked open.

  Bright sunlight spilled in, chasing away the gloom.

  The sudden burst of light dazzled the Pokémon, who had grown aced to darkness.

  “Wow, there are quite a few new friends here,” a voice called out.

  At the back of the group, Emolga squinted and adjusted to the light.

  After a moment, a fatered its view—a face it found… acceptable.

  As a Pokémon with standards, Emolga believed that if it were to be caught, it should at least be by someone pleasing to the eye.

  After all, choosing a Trainer was like pig a parthey’d be together for years.

  If its Trainer were unsightly, it would be miserable.

  This face, however, was tolerable and worth sidering.

  The warehouse erupted into chaos.

  The rummaging Pokémon revealed itself—a Yamper.

  Its tan, white, and brown fur gleamed, and its upright ears resembled a rabbit’s.

  Its tail had a lightning-bolt shape, with a heart-shaped base right above its rear.

  “A Yamper!”

  Natsume’s expression lit up.

  To him, Yamper’s evolution, Boltund, was the quintessential herding Pokémon.

  He po eventually raise Pokémon capable of produg resources, like bee, Mareep, and Miltank.

  For herding duties, Boltund and Are were ideal choices.

  Entering a Yamper here was a delightful surprise.

  The other Pokémon weren’t bad either.

  Natsume’s gaze turo the Galvantu and its Joltik children.

  Electrid Bug-types that could spin silk and gee electricity—perfect for solving the farm’s power issues.

  Currently, the farm had external power lines, but interricity produ would be much more ve.

  Then there were the two Charjabug.

  As their name suggested, they funed like living power banks.

  Not only could they store vast amounts of energy, but their evolved form, Vikavolt, was an excellent turret Pokémon.

  Though their HP, physical attack, defense, and speed were unimpressive, their 145 base Special Attack could devastate enemies.

  Finally, Natsume’s gaze nded on a red-hued Charjabug hiding in a er.

  Uhe usual green color, this one was shiny.

  ting the shiny Pidgeotto from before, this marked the third shiny Pokémon he’d entered on the farm.

  His attentiouro Emolga, lingering at the back.

  Sensing his gaze, Emolga frowned and instinctively pulled the others forward as a shield (or so it imagined).

  Instead, it retreated further into the er.

  Why did this human’s gaze feel so… intense?

  It was almost like the obsessive vilins in TV dramas who fixated on little girls.

  Yes, Emolga had watched TV before—albeit through a stranger’s window.

  “Hello, everyone! My name’s Natsume, and I’m the owner of this farm.”

  “o be nervous.”

  He paused for a sed, nearly blurting out something inappropriate, before tinuing.

  Raising his hand, Natsume eled a gentle flow of Viridian energy, subtly easing the tension in the air.

  It wasn’t enough to “brainwash” the Pokémon into ad him but helped reduce their wariness.

  Even Yamper, who had been prepared to bite him, started wagging its tail instead.

  Gcell