Under Ron's gaze, the Zubat—utterly bewildered—suddenly felt guilty for no reason. After a long pause, it slowly rolled away.
Ron fell silent. He left the Zubat alone and walked to his tool kit, pulling out the stack of blueprints Evelyn had given him. Flipping through them, he found the Scarecrow schematic.
All required materials were already on the farm.
When clearing the fields earlier, Ron had deliberately saved every scrap—even gathering "useless" weeds and drying them on spare plots.
Soon, a scarecrow stood complete.
Ron carried it around the farm, assessing placent.
Its exact range was unknown—and he'd never actually seen crows land on his crops.
After deliberation, he positioned it in a corner of the strawberry field.
Better to leave so crow access than risk starving his Zubat.
---
anwhile, at the Stardrop Saloon—Nightfall…
Joy sat nursing a non-alcoholic drink Gus had mixed for her, chatting with Robin.
"Oh! The Flower Dance is the day after tomorrow—you've arrived just in ti!" Robin exclaid, taking a swig of beer. She explained the tradition:
On this day, Pelican Town's unmarried youth dressed in finery and danced among spring petals, inviting those they fancied—or rely liked—to join them.
A "Flower Dance Queen" was crowned annually…
—a title Haley had held every year.
"You're new—you don't know the boys here," Robin mused. "Will you dance with Ron?"
Joy lowered her eyes. "I don't know… Do I have to dance?"
"Well…" Robin shrugged. "It's tradition. But if you can't find a partner, you can stand with us old folks outside."
Gus chuckled, refilling his mug. "More drink?"
"Thank you," Joy said, offering her glass with a shy smile. "I'll just watch this year… Maybe next year, I'll have soone I'd like to dance with."
Robin studied her, then teased, "I thought you'd choose Ron."
Joy stayed quiet, staring at her drink.
Robin had emphasized "soone you fancy."
That word felt heavy. In Joy's mind, "fancying" soone ant a long road ahead—especially with a stranger.
"Alright, alright—I'm just teasing," Robin laughed, ruffling Joy's hair. She handed her empty glass to the counter. "Emily, refill!"
"You should drink less too," Emily said, pouring beer. "We've got two newcors this year… They barely know anyone. Finding partners will be hard."
Robin raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"
"I think… maybe we don't need to follow this tradition rigidly every year," Emily mused, chin in hand. "Besides, I always end up dancing with Shane. It's getting stale."
Robin and Joy waited for her point.
"So… what if everyone just dances alone this year?" Emily suggested.
She loved dancing—and knew Haley did too.
Scrapping the event entirely? Haley would never allow it.
Emily smiled at the thought.
"…That's better than excluding newcors," Robin agreed. "You're thoughtful, dear. I'll ask the mayor tomorrow."
---
The next morning…
Ron opened his door at dawn—and froze.
Crows lay unconscious across the strawberry field.
Nearby, Zubat drooled over them… but hadn't touched a single one.
"…"
Had he co out any later, watering might've been unnecessary.
Hunger—or days of safe farm life—had made the Zubat utterly careless.
None noticed Ron watching from afar.
Fewer crows today—but enough to feed them.
(Though if they wanted to lose weight, portion control was key.)
"Zubat…"
Should we let them go?
Another Zubat swallowed hard. "Bat-zubat!"
Let them wake up and fly ho?
Just then, the crows began stirring.
Before Ron could react—Hypnosis!—a Zubat unleashed the move, plunging the crows back into sleep.
"…"
The Zubat chattered anxiously on the ground.
Ron understood nothing.
He walked over, gathered the crows, and carried them out the farm's back gate.
(They couldn't be sold or stored—just pests following ga chanics: X plants = X% crow chance.)
Releasing them wasn't "aiding the enemy"—just resetting the system.
But the Zubat…
They were too plump. Their diet had clearly been lavish.
At this rate, their health would suffer.
Ron turned to the uncaught Zubat. After a long silence, he returned to the cabin and brought out wild berries.
He placed three tiny, fingernail-sized berries before them.
"This is today's ration."
"Zu-zub?!"
One ate a berry—it vanished instantly.
Confused, it looked up at Ron's retreating back… and the pitifully small pile.
Soon, the farm echoed with mournful Zubat cries.
Ron finished distributing breakfast and spotted Rattata watching the field from the porch.
"Ratta…?"
What are they doing?
"Ratta."
No idea. Let's eat.
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