Apparently, every time Clint brought up the farm, it caught Emily's attention—so he kept mentioning it. Even Leah, who rarely visited the farm herself, picked up news from his endless chatter.
Almost everyone could see Clint had a soft spot for Emily—except Emily herself.
"…" Ron fell silent for a moment. He didn't ask how she knew. After some thought, he agreed.
"Thanks. I'll bring the berries over soon."
Leah nodded. With her Maple Syrup collected, she returned to her cabin to prepare for jam-making.
Ron detoured to the Saloon, bought several loaves of Bread, and went home.
His Rattata crew had gathered plenty of wild edibles. After selling the undesirable bits, Ron took the selected berries—and the Rattata—to Leah's.
Froakie perched on his shoulder, snacking on raspberries from Ron's pocket, lounging against his neck.
Leah's cabin faced a small river. She was scooping water into a bucket to wash berries when she heard footsteps and turned.
Ron stood there—followed by a line of Rattata, munching berries as they walked.
The sight was oddly endearing.
Leah's eyes crinkled with a smile. She set down the bucket. "Wait one sec—I'll get bowls."
She fetched two wooden basins and gestured for Ron to dump the berries in.
"Would you help wash these?" she asked gently, crouching beside the Rattata—who were already sneaking bites while lining up to drop berries into the basin.
"Ratta~"
The guilty Rattata froze mid-chew—then, hearing her request, scampered to the riverbank, washed its paws, and proudly thumped its chest: Leave it to me!
"I'll leave it to you then," Leah said, placing a plate of dried cranberries nearby. "There's dried cranberries—help yourselves if you get hungry."
Once Ron filled the basins with water, the knee-high Rattata lined up along the edges, diligently scrubbing each berry.
Froakie hopped over to join them.
Inside, Leah lit the stove, set a pot on the flame, and poured in Maple Syrup. As it warmed, she explained the jam process.
Washed berries needed sorting: some required peeling; others kept their skins.
While Ron sorted berries handed to him by Rattata, sweet fragrance began filling the cabin.
Leah inhaled deeply, eyes half-closed.
Far nicer than store-bought sugar.
Though that sugar came from Beets—not artificial additives—it lacked the delicate clarity of real Maple Syrup.
For the first time in ages, Leah's cabin buzzed with life.
Outside, Deerling shuttled peeled berries between Ron and Leah.
The Rattata and Froakie worked side by side, polishing each berry to perfection—though slightly imperfect ones mysteriously vanished into a certain Rattata's belly.
Listening to the gurgle of boiling syrup, the splash of washing water, and the rich aroma of simmering fruit…
Leah felt something inside her quietly fill a long-empty space.
She hadn't been in Pelican Town long—and had no real friends here.
(And if "friends" meant those from Zuzu City? She'd rather be alone.)
She cherished solitude in nature—but even the most independent soul felt loneliness in harsh weather.
That bitter winter—when she'd questioned leaving everything behind—had just passed.
Sometimes… she needed company.
Sometimes… she craved warmth.
"You okay?" Ron asked, dumping out rinse water. He carefully navigated through the Pokémon snacking on dried cranberry—and found Leah staring silently into the pot.
"Me?" She kept her eyes on the bubbling jam. "I'm fine. It's just… been a while since it's been this lively here."
Since arriving alone at this run-down cabin—sweeping, cleaning, chasing art through forest adventures—she'd always been solitary.
Deerling nudged her sleeve gently.
Leah stroked its head, then resumed stirring.
"If you ever feel lonely," Ron said after a pause, "come to the farm. You're always welcome."
Seeing her look at him, he added, "And if you want—you can help with farmwork too."
(The farm never lacked chores.)
Leah burst out laughing. She playfully swatted his arm. "An artist's fee is very expensive. Your farm might not afford me."
"Then come later," Ron said, crouching to lift Froakie onto his shoulder.
A dried cranberry appeared at his lips.
Before Leah could comment, Froakie offered another to her.
"Thank you!" Leah accepted, surprised.
It tasted the same as when she ate it alone—yet somehow… different.
Deerling rubbed against her leg, feeling unfairly disadvantaged by its lack of hands.
"Oh—thank you too," Leah laughed, scratching Deerling's ears.
By now, the jam was done. Tart-sweet steam curled through the cabin, mingling with the woodsy scent of Leah's home.
Instantly, the Rattata formed a hopeful semicircle around her feet.
As connoisseurs of flavor, they knew that pot held perfection.
"It's too hot to eat now," Leah said. "We'll wait until evening, okay?"
Ron recalled them one by one into Poké Balls.
Their pitiful, betrayed expressions made Leah giggle.
Together, they transferred the jam into clean containers to cool—then would jar it in glass bottles.
"So nice," Leah murmured, watching steam rise from the pot.
"Froakie," Froakie agreed from beside the container, swallowing hard.
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