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Joy paused. "Gus… my mom mentioned you."
She stepped up to the counter. "She said your spaghetti is amazing."
Gus couldn't help but smile. "Yeah—she used to come all the time. Always with Robin."
Just then, footsteps echoed at the door.
"Who's always with me—Goodness, Joy?!" Robin gasped from the entrance. She rushed forward and pulled Joy into a tight hug.
"You haven't changed at all! It's been twenty years—I'm already—" She froze, realization dawning. "Oh! Sorry, dear—you're her daughter, aren't you? I thought you were her!"
"Yes," Joy said, startled but not displeased by Robin's warmth. She hugged back just as tightly.
"My mom mentioned you too," she murmured into Robin's shoulder, the last of her nervousness melting away. "You're exactly as she described."
"Welcome, sweetheart," Robin said, stroking Joy's hair. "This is your home now. Need anything? You're staying at the Community Center, right?"
"Yes."
"Come to the carpenter's anytime—even for meals. Our door's always open."
No wonder they were so emotional.
Twenty years had passed since the farm collapsed, Gabriel died, and Joy's family left Pelican Town.
Their youth felt frozen in that moment of loss.
And now—a face identical to the past stood before them.
As if time had never moved on.
"Such a good kid," Robin whispered, finally releasing her. "How's your mother? Is she well?"
"She's great!" Joy pulled out her phone.
A video call connected instantly, revealing Joy's mother on screen.
"What—Robin? Goodness, you haven't aged a day!"
Joy handed her phone to the others, then sat at the counter beside Emily, who'd been watching curiously.
"I heard kids in Kalos can start adventuring at ten?" Emily leaned in, voice hushed.
"Yes," Joy nodded. "That's when they receive their first Pokémon." She clarified, "More precisely—it's when they earn the right to partner with Pokémon in battle. Some get one from the lab; others are given one by family."
"How wonderful! Is this yours?" Emily gestured to Wigglytuff.
Joy shook her head. "She's more like my colleague. We work together at the Pokémon Center."
Healing-assist Pokémon graduated from nurse school too.
Bred in institutions, they trained alongside human students—learning care techniques before being assigned to Joys upon graduation.
"I see," Emily said, petting Wigglytuff. She glanced toward Ron, who sat quietly nearby.
"You busy? You seem distracted."
"…" Ron looked at Joy.
Their eyes met—Joy understood immediately. "Go ahead! I can find my way back alone."
"Thanks." Ron stood and left.
For a farmer, any crop that could be planted and harvested within a season was worth sowing.
Ron had planned to rush home after dinner to plant his new seeds.
The shopkeeper's notes claimed growth took over a month—but actual times were unknown. Still, testing wouldn't hurt.
At just 2,400G, it was a small risk. Success meant more summer dishes; failure would reveal Stardew Valley's true time ratio for future planning.
Every hour counted.
Back at the farm, Ron found Rattata lined up at the fridge—exactly as instructed. He'd prepped meals since he might miss cooking today.
He reheated food, ate quickly with his Pokémon, then hurried to the fields. Digging holes, he planted each seed carefully.
As dusk fell, Zubat tumbled out of their cave.
Perhaps to prove themselves—or shed weight—they followed Ron, using wingtips to gently cover seeds with soil.
"Froakie?"
What are they doing?
Rattata paused. "Ratta…"
One stood upright, miming stroking an invisible beard.
Dieting.
"Froak?" Froakie eyed their wobbly wings skeptically.
Even if we assume that… which muscles does this even exercise?
"Oddish," came a soft chirp behind them.
Are they here to get stronger too?
"…" Froakie lost interest in the conversation and silently watered the seeded rows with Water Gun.
The Rattata exchanged glances, then fetched buckets to help.
Oddish clumsily trailed behind—and in its eagerness, kicked a spherical Zubat.
Thump-thump-thump!
Like billiard balls, the Zubat chain-reacted across the field.
"…"
Ron watched the chaos—and seriously questioned whether these Zubat could possibly catch crows.
"Better build that scarecrow soon…" he muttered, planting the last seed.
He began gathering Zubat from the field.
Though they rolled wildly, they'd carefully avoided trampling crops. Ron patiently collected each one.
"So… how do they catch those crows anyway?"
He placed two Zubat side by side—
—and heard a whisper:
"Hypnosis."
"Who said that?" Ron spun toward the speaker—a Zubat staring blankly back.
"Were you talking?"
The Zubat tilted its head, then emitted a faint, confused chirp.
"…Did I imagine it?" Ron frowned, studying the Zubat warily.
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