Pokemon: Farm Story-Chapter 167: Showing Off Is Etched Into a Man’s DNA

Seeing Natsume fall quiet and thoughtful, Mei tilted forward slightly, her hands clasped behind her back.

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She leaned in, sticking her face right into Natsume's line of sight, forcing him to acknowledge her presence.

Looking at Natsume's expression, she couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy.

This strange heat, and Natsume suddenly going all thoughtful...

It sparked a certain suspicion in Mei's heart.

Could it be... a Legendary?

The moment the thought popped into her head, even Mei startled herself.

Back in the day, that idea wouldn't have even crossed her mind.

To most regular Trainers, Legendary Pokémon were just that—legends, distant and untouchable.

Sure, there were a lot of them in the lore, but most Trainers could go their entire lives without seeing even one in person.

But ever since she'd met Natsume...

It felt like she was running into Legendary Pokémon every other day.

Back on the farm, she'd gotten pretty chummy with Ogerpon and even Phione.

She'd fed Phione so much that the poor thing had started putting on weight.

If it weren't for Natsume's restrictions, Mei was pretty sure she could've turned Phione into a big ol Tepig.

Even when they were traveling, Natsume would randomly send her pictures—sometimes just to complain.

One day it'd be Mew teasing some poor Pokémon until it ran off in frustration.

The next, Ogerpon would be locking herself in her room trying to figure out how to wear two masks at once.

Then maybe Cresselia would randomly show up again out of nowhere.

After stuffing her face like she hadn't eaten in centuries, she'd just lazily float off again.

The whole air of mystery and reverence that surrounded these Legendaries? Yeah, that didn't really apply when it came to Natsume.

Whenever he talked about them, it was always with the same tone people used to talk about their pet dogs.

Not even particularly smart dogs, either.

He'd once confided in Mei:

In his eyes, Cresselia wasn't really all that different from Corviknight.

It was hard to tell if that was a compliment to Corviknight or an insult to Cresselia.

"It's nothing," Natsume finally said with a smile, pulling himself back from his thoughts. "Just something that crossed my mind."

Seeing the concern on Mei's face, he started explaining:

"Ting-Lu mentioned it to me before, so I've been keeping it in the back of my mind."

"Unusual heat, tied to someone Ting-Lu knows—there's really only one likely culprit: Heatran."

"If it were back then, I might've been more worried."

"But now, a Heatran on its own probably isn't much of a threat to me."

Still, out of caution, Natsume didn't say it with absolute certainty.

He'd only said "probably."

Because you never know—what if that Heatran had stumbled across some massive power-up?

What if it traded the ability to fly for raw strength, and pulled off a Primal Reversion-style comeback mid-battle?

Unlikely, sure. But not impossible.

Even if that did happen, Natsume wasn't too concerned.

If it was a normal Heatran, he'd deal with it normally.

If it wasn't...

Then it was time to bring out the big guns—namely, Grandpa Mew.

He'd just give a grand welcome, summon the ancient ancestor, and let Mew deliver a modest but memorable shock-and-awe performance.

Honestly, you could really tell the difference once someone had that kind of backing.

For most people, confidence came from money or status.

And when you had both, well... that's usually when people started thinking about going big—finding aliens, building robots, that kind of thing. (Cross that out.)

But in the world of Pokémon?

Confidence came from strength.

With enough power, even a god wasn't all that scary.

You might even get the itch to challenge one just for the thrill of it.

Like: "Come on! Let's battle!"

"I see..." Mei nodded, a look of sudden realization on her face.

In reality...

She didn't quite get it.

She'd heard a bit about Heatran, sure.

But just the basics.

Most of what she knew about Legendaries came from official sites and online speculation.

The official sources were always vague, never giving a clear picture of just how strong a Legendary really was.

They just said that they were powerful—and that a regular team of Pokémon would likely get steamrolled one by one.

As for the stuff online...

That was more entertainment than actual information.

Every fandom had its power-scaling wars, and once those started, personal attacks weren't far behind.

It always began with people seriously debating who was stronger—Heatran or Ting-Lu—

And ended with stuff like: "[HEATRAN CASTS INFERNO AND BURNS YOUR X INTO A NON-STICK PAN]."

Not exactly a useful metric.

Even in slightly calmer discussions, things often veered into looks.

People were naturally biased toward good-looking Pokémon.

If a Pokémon didn't exactly win the genetic lottery, fans tended to lump it in with the villains and mentally level it up a few notches.

Meanwhile, the cute and elegant ones got underestimated.

There were even people who thought Mew would get destroyed by something like Glimmora, just because it looked soft and harmless.

But the truth? Mew could probably tear Glimmora apart and use it as fertilizer for a flower bed.

All these biases made online discussions about Legendary power levels wildly inconsistent.

Not to mention the crowd of hot-take bros and meme-lords.

So as it stood, Mei didn't really have a solid grasp on what these Legendaries were truly capable of.

Still, if Natsume said it was fine, then she'd believe him.

Thinking about it again, with so many Legendaries hanging out on Natsume's farm, even just sheer numbers gave him an edge.

That thought alone gave Mei a sense of peace.

It's true—most people just instinctively assumed that the side with more people had the advantage.

Even if the one being surrounded... was someone like Uchiha Madara.

"Corviknight!"

"Caw—!"

At Natsume's call, Corviknight—who had been eavesdropping behind the house—spread its wings wide.

Its massive body arced through the air in one elegant sweep and landed gracefully in front of them.

From takeoff to landing, it took less than two seconds.

Not particularly useful—but it looked cool.

Just imagine it: you say the word, and a giant, majestic beast swoops down from the sky.

Tell me that's not cool.

Now picture this alternative: you call out, and a pigeon waddles out from behind the house, taking tiny awkward steps.

Which would you pick?

Especially if the girl you like—who also happens to like you—is standing right there, watching.

Yeah. Most guys are going to go with the cool entrance.

Because let's face it: showing off is wired into the male genome.

Doesn't matter if you're five or fifty—it's baked into your DNA.

At five, you show off your toys.

At fifteen, your game scores.

At twenty or thirty, maybe it's the fish you caught.

At fifty, your kids.

Thousands of years ago? Your hunt.

A lifetime of trying to look impressive.

Honestly, guys probably keep bragging even after they're dead.

"Check out my ultra-lit, anime-singing, glow-in-the-dark urn!"

"Good afternoon, Corviknight."

Mei walked up and gently patted the proud-looking Corviknight.

Just like Natsume had said—its belly really had gotten noticeably rounder lately.

If she didn't already know Corviknight was male—and therefore definitely not expecting chicks—she might've started wondering what kind of dramatic phase he was going through.

But sadly, Corviknight was just plain getting fat.

That once awe-inspiring, majestic bird of steel...

Still looked pretty cool, honestly.

Just in a slightly different way.

Corviknight gave off the vibe of a steel sculpture—meticulously crafted, every line elegant and precise.

Now?

Now he looked more like a legendary war general from ancient times.

Big-bellied, maybe—but the moment he moved, he radiated power.

It wasn't the sleek kind of handsome anymore.

There was something almost... honest and solid about it.

Of course, that impression usually only lasted until the fight started.

Before battle, Corviknight was all cold pride, acting like no opponent was worth his time.

But during battle?

He turned into a one-bird quote machine.

If you translated his speech into human language, it'd read like a book of one-liners.

And not just regular ones—full-on edgy anime quotes.

He constantly insisted he'd grown out of his chuuni phase, that he didn't say those cool-sounding-but-ineffective lines anymore.

But as the saying goes: old habits die hard.

Come battle time, Corviknight would still blurt out things like:

"Kneel before me."

"Gaze upon your doom."

"You're already dead."

Every time, Kirlia would watch on in agony.

She even tried to ask Corviknight for guidance once.

His response?

He just recommended an anime.

No one told her that mastering snarky one-liners required watching shows.

Poor Kirlia nearly gave up on trash talk altogether.

But then again, when it came to mind makeover, Psychic-types were naturals.

Amnesia. Courage Boost. Self-Motivation. You name it.

What's that?

You're saying half of those aren't even Psychic-type moves?

It's fine. I can learn it.

For us Psychic-types, we have to master the moves we want.

Unless I really can't learn it.

After a bout of self-inflicted motivational talk, Kirlia finally steadied her mental resolve.

'I can't even get past a few lines of trash talk? And I dare call myself the Queen of Snark?'

'I carry on the will of Number 7! I won't lose!'

At last, Kirlia's trash talk earned Corviknight's approval.

A foul-mouthed little girl, huh? You've passed.

How did Corviknight decide Kirlia was ready to graduate?

Simple.

That mouth of hers spewed so much filth that Corviknight nearly couldn't resist smacking her with a wing on the spot.

If that's not graduation material, what is?

Once they landed smoothly, Corviknight extended a wing across the ground.

It resembled a long, black carpet.

This was a little habit Corviknight had developed after serving as Natsume's ride for so long.

Flashy shiny Pidgeots may be fast—

But I, Corviknight, am still Boss Natsume's favorite.

You're still too green to be a proper mount.

Driving the boss isn't just about flying.

This was a lesson Corviknight had learned after watching hundreds of "high emotional intelligence" videos.

He didn't know if the people in those videos had ever driven VIPs, but their advice had proven surprisingly useful.

To sum it all up—

The core mindset is to treat your trainer like a billionaire client ready to tip a million at any moment.

Thinking that way made the job much easier—and revealed many areas for improvement.

"Come on,"

Standing beside Corviknight, Natsume extended his hand toward Mei.

Ladies first—except when racing to the cafeteria.

"Okay~"

Mei looked at Natsume's outstretched hand, then at Corviknight's poker-faced stance.

She suddenly smiled and placed her hand in his.

"So, today's schedule is all up to our dear Gym Leader Natsume?"

"Tell me, did you actually plan anything?"

"Of course!"

Natsume answered firmly—

—but even as he spoke, his hand was quietly reaching for his phone.

Was it still possible to find a guide on that app?

Hmm... Maybe he could get Slowking to help figure out an itinerary...

Just as Slowking was stuck in a loop of self-inflicted overthinking, his head snapped up.

That feeling...

Natsume's thinking about me!

A bad omen, for sure.

Luckily, whenever Natsume went out, he always brought his phone-Rotom along.

Taking advantage of Mei's momentary distraction, he stealthily grabbed Rotom in phone form and typed a few quick words, then just as naturally slipped it back into his pocket.

This was when having an AI companion really paid off.

"Na–tsume..."

Phone Rotom, who'd just been yanked out and shoved back in, felt the world spinning around him.

Just as he came to his senses, he noticed the message Natsume had left him.

Without another word, he quietly began searching for the perfect date plan.

As a genderless Ghost-type Pokémon, Rotom didn't quite understand what human dates were supposed to be like.

But as a pseudo-artificial-intelligence being, he could at least put together a perfectly average and safe date plan.

Nothing fancy—but nothing disastrous, either.

And when it came to dinner recommendations, Rotom actually had some good suggestions.

Yeah—tonight, Natsume and Mei had decided not to eat at the farm.

Even though both of them could cook, sometimes you just want to eat out once... twice... maybe three times...

Okay fine, cooking skills aside, both of them actually preferred eating out.

After all, cooking wasn't the annoying part—it was the prep work before and the dishwashing after that were truly painful.

"You seated?"

"All set."

Sitting in front of Natsume, Mei adjusted her posture slightly.

Truth be told, it felt a bit like she was sitting in Natsume's lap.

It made her a little self-conscious.

Even though their relationship had already reached a tacit understanding, they hadn't explicitly spelled it out yet.

There was still a certain... delicate atmosphere between them.

That liminal space between friendship and romance.

Once that unspoken boundary was crossed, the mystery and charm of it would vanish.

Being too direct could sometimes kill the mood.

"Yaya," Natsume called.

"Caw!"

Once Mei was settled, Natsume gave Corviknight a light pat on the back.

Given Corviknight's size, carrying two people was no issue at all.

Both his strength and width were more than enough for the job.

At Natsume's signal, Corviknight spread his wings wide—

—and in the next instant, shot into the sky like an arrow.

The sudden burst of speed made Mei instinctively lean backward.

Before she could react or adjust herself, she was already cradled in a warm embrace.

Feeling the heat radiating from behind, Mei's body tensed—

—then gradually relaxed.

Neither of them said a word. They simply adjusted their positions.

Sitting alone and sitting while holding someone were two entirely different postures.

Mei quietly shifted in sync with Natsume to rebalance their shared center of gravity.

"Na—"

Phone Rotom, hiding in Natsume's pocket, had just finished crafting the date guide and was about to report—

—only to witness a scene that would emotionally damage any single Pokémon.

The words stuck in his throat.

Without a sound, he withdrew into the darkness and started editing his own videos instead.

Any Pokémon with half a brain would know better than to interrupt their trainer at a moment like this.

Rotom had always considered himself lucky.

He'd ended up with a young, easygoing trainer like Natsume.

Older trainers often treated newly added Pokémon as just extra pieces for utility—maybe for support, or to counter specific types.

Emotionally, the bond was never as strong as with their original partners.

Later team members had to be extra cautious around their trainers.

Back at the Rotom Academy, a senior once said—

Some trainer-Pokémon relationships are like those between football players and their coaches.

If you're talented, been there since the beginning, and the coach likes you—you start the game.

If you're average, came later, or just not favored—you sit on the bench, wave towels, maybe even get traded.

For Pokémon, that often meant being released back into the wild—or "entrusted" to someone else.

Many Pokémon would go to humiliating lengths just to stay on the team.

Especially those like Rotom—functional and intelligent Pokémon.

But with Natsume, Rotom felt completely at ease.

He could do what he wanted. He didn't have to tiptoe around their interactions.

Still—

That didn't mean he could be brainless and ruin his trainer's romantic moment.

Pokémon like that might seem cute and innocent at first...

But they got annoying real fast.

Rotom was a mature Pokémon. He'd never make that mistake.

Soon enough, Corviknight began to lower his altitude.

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