Kalos's planting season had ended. The seed market stood nearly empty.
Santalune City hosted only a handful of large farms and scattered smallholdings. Once sowing concluded, most seed shops didn't even open. Only a few vendors lingered, hoping that some residents might buy seeds for their home gardens.
"Bought too many again this year?" One vendor, glancing at the empty sky, packed his stall while addressing a neighbor with a furrowed brow.
"Don't even mention it," the other sighed, eyeing his unsold stock. "At least I learned my lesson. Last winter's losses nearly broke me."
Seeds remained viable for one to three years. Harvested too early, some stayed dormant; stored too long, germination rates declined. And due to Santalune Forest's proximity, local farms banned chemical germination aids. Even if Grassy Terrain and chemicals could stabilize sprouting, Santalune growers insisted on prior-year seeds.
Yet this very restriction made Santalune's produce more desirable—and valuable. Farmers gladly paid premiums for quality seeds. Any unsold stock? They could only be sent to Coumarine City or Dendemille Town as discounted goods.
As the vendor fretted over his leftovers, a familiar figure appeared at the market entrance.
Only a few regulars frequented this place. He instantly recognized the youth who'd spent his entire savings here last month—the "unlucky soul."
Watching Ron scan the stalls before approaching, the vendor stood. Selling cheap to him beats hauling these to Dendemille, he reasoned.
"Good day! Looking for seeds?" he asked warmly.
Ron surveyed the stall—familiar varieties from his last visit. "Do you have overwintering crop seeds?"
"Overwintering?" The vendor blinked, incredulous. He pulled out his phone and checked the phone's date. Finally convinced he hadn't time-traveled to winter, he nodded and pulled packets out from beneath the counter.
"I have two types," he explained. "Autumn-sown crops like winter wheat and peas grow through the cold for a spring harvest. Or late-winter varieties—cherry radishes, spinach, cabbage—that can sprout in freezing temps and can be harvested in a couple of months."
Ron gathered every packet. Slightly more than expected, but sufficient for the farm's cleared land.
"What's the total?"
"If you have a Pokémon that knows Grassy Terrain—wait, you want all of these?" The vendor froze. "With Grassy Terrain, you can sow these in late winter. Without it, plant earlier and allow it to grow for the whole season."
Ron nodded. These crops simply grew slowly in the cold. A few days' head start meant beating competitors to market, selling at premium prices without sacrificing quality.
"If you take everything," the vendor mused, gesturing to remaining stock, "including these leftovers… 30,000G?"
He hesitantly gave a quote: "If you only buy these specific seeds, it's 23,000g."
He hesitated. Surely he hasn't recouped last month's investment yet…
Noting the generous discount, Ron transferred payment via his worn Pokédex—no haggling.
Impressed, the vendor prepared to add a bonus—then froze, eyes catching Ron's balance.
Silently, he labeled each packet with names and planting dates, then handed them over.
---
Ron returned straight to the Pokémon Center.
From afar, he spotted Froakie tumbling playfully with Nacli by the entrance. At his approach, Froakie pivoted and leaped into his arms.
Nacli watched, envy flickering in its cube-like eyes—then looked away, wistful and awkward.
Ron knelt to its level. "Well? Do you want to wait for your Trainer in Cyllage City… or come with me to my farm?"
"Nacli… li."
Ron's smile softened. "You'll come to the farm?"
"Nacli!"
He offered a Poké Ball. Nacli nudged the button with its head. Red light flashed—and a soft click sealed the bond.
Joy, finishing at the counter, looked up to see Ron cradling the Poké Ball and a box of Poké Puffs, Froakie perched on his shoulder, munching happily.
She smiled softly, watching him disappear into the golden dusk.
---
Meanwhile, Pelican Town…
Sunset bled across the horizon. Haley sat at the harbor, sea breeze lifting strands of hair. Camera resting on her lap, she watched the light fade—unsure of what she awaited, only knowing she'd grown fond of these quiet moments.
Then—a tiny black dot surfaced on the water's edge.
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