Gardening was a rather newish hobby for Memo. There was not much call for a green thumb in the narrows of Spikemuth, but he’d found the sunlight and fresh air rather rejuvenating. He’d even bought Zuza her own sunhat, and she wore it with pride whilst also carrying his bag of gardening supplies slung over one shoulder. Besa rode comfortably on her back.

They were just getting to their garden plot when they spotted the Emolga coming in for a landing. Memo quirked an eyebrow up and exchanged a look with Zuza, breaking into a jog and hustling to beat the Sky Squirrel Pokemon to the punch.

“Oh no you don’t!” Memo growled protectively as Zuza conjured a fairy wind to blow the gliding Emolga off course. “Not on harvest day!” The glittering wind showered the mature berry bushes in beautiful sparkles and sent the Emolga tumbling sideways to the dirt. Feeding off her trainer’s aggressive energy, little Besa rolled off of Zuza’s back. Gathering momentum as she went, she landed a super-effective rollout, smushing the Emolga into the soft, loamy soil of the berry patch.

Memo stood victoriously over the downed interloper and bopped it with a Pokeball, securing the capture, and his berry patch.

Okay, so, maybe in the hustle and bustle of everything-- apocalypses, interdimensional wars, that sort of thing-- he’d let the garden go a little bit. Maybe.

Maybe.

But he was determined to get it back under control, as he leisurely walked to his little overgrown plot, sunhat perched upon his head, Oddish at his side, Butterfree fluttering above him. He whistled a little tune and twirled his spade and--

--walked face first into a mound of dirt kicked up from where a naughty little Rockruff was digging in his garden!

“Oh, no you don’t!” he said, in almost an exact mimicry of what he’d said the first time this had happened, almost two years ago-- though this time, he was spluttering soil and rubbing at his eyes. “That’s my job! Anchaja, ándale!”

The Oddish toddle-ran over and heaved a cloud of stun spore in the hole, causing the Rockruff to back up, coughing and spluttering, just like Memo was doing. Gratí zapped it with psybeam, knocking it over, and Memo caught it in a Pokeball.

He sat back and looked at the lump in the soft loamy soil. Shivani hovered over his shoulder, head cocked with curiosity.

“This berry is going to take longer to grow than the others,” he explained, brushing dirt off his spade with his gloved fingers, “but when it fruits, I can use it to upgrade our Sygna Suit.” He pauses. “Um. Somehow.”

memo's passho berry ready 6/10

Not this again.

“NNNNNNNNNNO! NOT MY PASSHO! CHINGADA MADRE!

Memo hurls a Pokeball at the offending amphibian and his Shiftry shoots forth, slicing through wet, blue skin with a vengeful leaf blade. The Quagsire makes a pained bubbling noise and flops, blood sluicing down its front, turning a sickly shade of purple.

“Mother father and holy son, Maelstrom, you didn’t need to--,” Memo slaps across his body looking for Zuza’s Pokeball. The Galarian Rapidash heals the fallen down Quagsire while Maelstrom, unbothered, tends the baby Passho.

When the wound is closed, Memo draws the Quagsire into a Pokeball. “Phew. Couple minutes sooner and I’d have lost it.”