After they finished planting the mushrooms and herbs, the last sliver of sunset slid behind the distant hills and a soft night rain began to fall.
Silver threads of water slanted across the fields, sending tiny splashes into the freshly turned earth. In the cool shower, the newly sown mushroom beds pushed through their thin covers of soil and began to unfurl — the rain had come at just the right moment.
"Master — it looks like it's getting heavier."
Lopunny held out a paw and felt cool drops hit her skin. For a Normal-type like her the rain wasn't troublesome, though the damp on her fluffy ears made them a little itchy. Marzillo gently gathered her under his arm.
"Let's head back. Dinner's ready."
They stepped inside the cabin as the rain thinned into a light patter. In the kitchen, Gardevoir stood on tiptoe retrieving a ceramic pot from a cabinet. Steam rose from the stove and the thin fabric of her dress fluttered in the warm air. She turned and smiled as Marzillo entered.
"You're back!" she said, voice warm. Gardevoir had always been good at cooking — small comforts like a hot meal felt especially rewarding after a long day of work.
Dinner was a cheerful, noisy affair: three bowls, three pairs of chopsticks, and a little friendly squabbling over who gets the last piece. Lopunny's face turned pink a few times as she fidgeted in her seat, and Marzillo had to scold the two of them away from silly distractions and remind them to eat.
After the meal, as the three of them relaxed, Marzillo's communicator—an old landline phone left in the house—buzzed. He picked it up and Gardevoir set down the dishes.
"Hello?" Marzillo answered. On the other end came Whitney's bright voice.
"Hey, Marzillo! It's me. My grandfather told me something about the herd we left with you — one of the Miltank might be having trouble."
Whitney explained in a few hurried breaths. Normally, a healthy Miltank would produce a steady daily amount of milk; if it isn't milked regularly, it can become uncomfortable. Most of the calf Miltank were fine, but one of the herd was acting differently. This particular Miltank kept itself apart from the others and would attack anyone who got too close. No one had dared handle it — not even Whitney's grandfather. Oddly, despite this isolation it showed no sign of ill health.
Marzillo listened carefully and nodded. He understood the worry behind the request: a Miltank that can't be milked is easy to discard for a heartless manager, but from his point of view a Pokémon was not a tool to be thrown away. They were partners — family.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll take care of it."
Gardevoir smiled softly at him. Lopunny, who had been idly prodding at her bowl with her chopsticks, perked up when she heard the plan. Marzillo stood and walked outside. The rain had mostly stopped; the field shimmered under the leftover drizzle.
In the pasture the Miltank were grouped near the old shed, peacefully lowing as Marzillo approached. He began to count them one by one: one, two, three… twenty-three. There should have been twenty-four.
One was missing. Marzillo's brow tightened. He moved toward the deeper part of the shed where light was dim and a wooden partition blocked the way. Pushing the board aside, he found a small, shy figure curled in the corner — the odd, solitary Miltank Whitney had described.
The cow-like Pokémon looked up at him with wary eyes. It was a little smaller and its coloration was different — a gentle, unusual pattern. For a moment they simply regarded each other.
"Hey there," Marzillo said quietly, keeping his movements slow and nonthreatening. He crouched at a comfortable distance and spoke in a soft voice. No sudden gestures, no quick hands — just calm.
The Miltank's ears twitched, but it didn't charge. It watched him with alert, anxious eyes that nevertheless betrayed no obvious injury or illness. Marzillo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth and a cup of water. No invasive moves — only gentle care.
Over the next hour he sat near the little Miltank, offering water and quiet conversation. He let the other Miltank graze in the open, showed patience, and waited for the wary one to accept his presence. Gradually, as the rain-scented air cooled and the evening settled, the Miltank eased a few steps closer. It sniffed his hand and — after a long, tentative moment — nuzzled his palm.
Marzillo smiled. "See? We can give it time."
He called Whitney back on the landline and gave her a short, calm report. "It's shy. It keeps to itself because it's nervous about people approaching. It's not sick, just scared." Whitney's voice on the other end brightened with relief.
"Thank you so much, Marzillo," she said. "I was worried they'd send it away."
"Not on my watch," he replied. "We'll make it comfortable, and if it needs regular attention, we'll do it in a way that makes it feel safe."
After he hung up, Marzillo led the young Miltank out to a quiet corner of the pasture, set up a soft bed of straw, and moved a little feeder closer. The other Miltank kept their distance, but didn't join in harassment. By nightfall the shy Miltank had eaten and settled down less tensely than before.
Marzillo tucked the barn door and walked back toward the cabin, where Gardevoir and Lopunny waited on the porch. The three of them stood for a moment in the cool night, listening to the steady drip from the eaves and feeling the slow, steady pulse of the farm around them.
"Good job today," Gardevoir said.
Lopunny hopped up onto the porch railing and looked at him with a small smile.
Marzillo let out a contented breath. There were so many small things to do — repairs, tending fields, caring for the herd — but tonight felt like proof that this place could be made whole again. One cautious Miltank at a time, one planted row at a time, the farm would grow.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we'll start making a schedule so that the shy one is checked on gently every day. No rush, just steady care."
Both Pokémon nodded. The three of them went inside, closed the door against the night, and the old landline clock ticked softly on the wall — a small, steady promise that life here would move forward, quietly and kindly.
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