Wooden Cabin – Kitchen
"Stay put. No sneaking away."
Alcremie, whose brilliant escape plan had been thwarted before it could even begin, sat dejectedly on the counter. Her amber eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Good news: She had found evidence. Traces of mushroom in the kitchen—dozens of them, neatly arranged in the cabinet like trophies of her stolen treasures.
Bad news: She had been caught. Caught! And now she could only sit here, tiny and helpless, awaiting the farm owner's judgment.
Then she remembered.
The legend. The terrible urban legend whispered among her clan for generations.
A long, long time ago... a young, naive Alcremie wandered into a human Trainer's home.
Because of her ability to conjure cream from nothing, that Alcremie was tragically confined. Forced to work endless hours. Meager pay. No days off. All year round.
In the end... she became nothing but an exclusive whipped cream machine for that terrifying Trainer!
"Na...!"
Alcremie stared at the black-haired youth busily working before her. A violent shiver racked her tiny frame.
It's happening. It's actually happening. I'm next.
"Lopunny, start flipping them now."
Wade, utterly oblivious to the existential dread radiating from the small fairy on his counter, focused on the task at hand.
The azure Oran Berry batter had been funneled into a zip-lock bag. He snipped the corner and squeezed perfect double-layered circles into the heated pan. Lopunny, ears twitching with concentration, waited with spatula at the ready.
Flip. One side golden.
Flip. The other side perfect.
For half an hour, they worked in comfortable rhythm. The kitchen filled with the warm, sweet scent of baking Poké Puffs.
When the last one emerged from the pan, glowing with that characteristic crystal-blue sheen, Wade nodded in satisfaction.
"Alcremie. Your turn."
He patted the trembling fairy beside him.
"Na~"
She gazed at the tower of Poké Puffs before her. Her amber eyes welled up.
This is it. This is the moment. I'm going to become—an exclusive whipped cream machine!
In the Pokémon world, Alcremie's ability to generate whipped cream from her hands was legendary. Used to decorate desserts, that cream transformed already delicious food into something transcendent. In the League Times' annual "Most Desired Partner" poll, pastry chefs voted for Alcremie above all others. Their popularity was absolute.
"Na..."
Under the "terrifying" farm owner's coercion, poor Alcremie had no choice but to comply.
For now, she told herself firmly. I'll cooperate for now. Then, when he least expects it, I'll escape with my mushrooms!
She raised her tiny hands.
[Decorate]
Dollops of whipped cream materialized from thin air—pink, white, pale yellow, each one perfect. Under Wade's gentle guidance, she began to drizzle and swirl them across the waiting Poké Puffs, transforming simple treats into edible art.
(Unlike Miltank, whose milk came from their udders, Alcremie's cream was pure magic. No body parts involved. Just fairy things, as Wade understood it.)
"Yummy~"
Lilligant leaned in close, her crimson eyes wide with anticipation. Even her elegant composure couldn't hide the longing in her gaze.
The fragrance was intoxicating. The Poké Puffs, now crowned with Alcremie's signature cream, radiated an aroma that made mouths water and stomachs growl.
Wade selected the most beautifully decorated one and offered it to his newest assistant.
"Here. You try first."
"Na!"
First a cream machine, now a food taster! The indignities never end!
Alcremie snatched the Poké Puff with both hands and bit into it with theatrical resentment.
Her eyes went wide.
The texture was perfect—soft, pillowy, melting on the tongue. The cream, her cream, blended with the sweet Oran Berry flavor in a symphony of deliciousness. Each bite sent little shivers of pleasure through her tiny body.
"Na~!"
Delicious! So delicious!
Wade watched, amused, as speech bubbles practically materialized above her head.
[Friendship +1]
[Friendship +1]
[Friendship +...]
Tap, tap, tap.
He looked down. Skitty had materialized at his feet, her fluffy ears drooping in a masterclass of pitiful pleading.
"Master I want some too"
Beep-beep-beep!
A familiar horn sounded from outside just as the last Poké Puff found its owner.
"Coming."
Wade gently disentangled himself from the Milk Cow Loli, who had somehow attached herself to his arm, and pushed open the door.
Today's visit was twofold: the regular sale of farm goods, and a serious discussion about future Moomoo Milk transportation with Uncle Yoshino.
Behind him, unnoticed by all, a tiny figure slipped through the door.
While Gardevoir was distracted by her treat—too busy savoring to deploy her psychic locks—Alcremie seized her chance. She followed Wade all the way to the farm gate, staying low, staying quiet.
Because he had taken her mushrooms with him. The precious, stolen mushrooms she had come to reclaim.
"Na~"
From her hiding spot in the tall grass, Alcremie watched.
A large truck approached. A bearded man in shorts climbed out—clearly a regular, clearly familiar with the farm owner.
She watched. She waited.
And then she saw it.
Wade handed over a bundle. Her bundle. The mushrooms. All of them.
The bearded man examined them, nodded, and produced a thick stack of League coins.
The transaction complete, the mushrooms—her mushrooms—were loaded onto the truck and driven away.
Alcremie stared.
...Gone. They're all gone.
"Na?!?!"
Wade remained unaware of the tiny tragedy unfolding in the grass. He had business to discuss.
"At the start, I'd keep it local—Hiyori Town and En City," Yoshino advised, stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Later, once you've got momentum, hire on more transporters and expand outward."
Wade nodded, committing every word to memory.
"For partners, look at the big Pokémon supermarkets, local retailers, theme restaurants—places that move volume." Yoshino reached into his pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper, covered front and back in neat handwriting. "I've got contact info for their buyers here. You'll need to reach out yourself, hash out the specifics."
Wade accepted the paper, scanning the dense list of names and numbers. A warmth spread through his chest—not just from the information, but from the trust it represented.
"Thank you. Truly."
"No need for that." The bearded man clapped him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. "Your business takes off, mine does too. We're in this together."
Fair point. As the primary transporter for the farm's future Moomoo Milk brand, Yoshino had every reason to want Wade to succeed.
"Oh—Uncle Yoshino, one more thing—"
He caught the older man just as he was climbing into his truck.
Alcremie was still processing her grief.
The mushrooms. Her mushrooms. The ones she had nurtured, guarded, and lost—all loaded onto that terrible truck and driven away to destinations unknown.
She sat in the grass, tiny shoulders slumped, amber eyes hollow.
Then footsteps approached.
A shadow fell over her.
"Na?"
She looked up. The farm owner stood there, holding out—
A bag. Heavy. Familiar.
What...?
"Here." Wade's voice was gentle. "These are for you. They're still a bit small, but they're yours."
Alcremie's eyes went wide.
The truth was, he'd known from the start. When she'd first tumbled from the stove, Gardevoir's psychic translation had carried every indignant thought directly to his ears. He'd understood: this little one had been caring for the forest mushrooms all along. Her dedication was the reason they'd flourished so quickly.
He couldn't give back the harvested mushrooms—those were fair payment for the farm's labor, sold to support the household. But he could do something better.
He'd asked Yoshino to sell him a fresh bag. New mushrooms. Hers.
"These are for you to plant," he explained, watching her expression shift through a dozen emotions in rapid succession. "Just mark your patch clearly next time. Wouldn't want us accidentally harvesting yours again."
He ruffled her tiny head, smiling.
"Na..."
Alcremie clutched the bag to her chest. The weight of it—real, hers—grounded her.
And suddenly, she understood everything.
The black-haired youth wasn't a thief. He was the owner. The one who had planted, cared for, and harvested the mushrooms she'd adopted as her own.
He wasn't a monster who would trap her in a kitchen forever. He was the one who had saved her from the pot. Who had fed her the very first Poké Puff. Who had noticed her sadness and gone out of his way—bought her own mushrooms, with his own money—to make things right.
The tears came before she could stop them.
"Na... Naaa..."
"Hey, hey—don't cry." Wade scooped her up, and she immediately buried her face in his shirt, rubbing her tears into the fabric with desperate, grateful little motions. "I'm not done yet, you know."
She felt... soft. Holding Alcremie was like holding a cloud made of cream—warm, yielding, impossibly delicate. The thought flickered through his mind: What would she be like, as a Pokémon Girl?
But that was a question for another time.
"Alcremie."
She looked up, amber eyes still swimming, tears clinging to her lashes.
"Will you become our partner?"
"Na~!"
She nodded so hard her whole body wobbled. Then she hugged him tighter than ever, not caring about the tears still wet on her cheeks, not caring about anything except this warmth, this belonging, this home.