Tapu Bulu must've pulled a short straw with the other island deities, Nanu thinks, because there's no way it would've picked a Kahuna with zero agricultural knowledge if it had first dibs. Ula'Ula tradition warrants that its Kahuna must cultivate the land. And so to Hala's credit entirely, 100 square feet of Nanu's backyard have been transformed into a garden. It even has a greenhouse and extended planter box that the two of them patiently spent the morning massaging with blood meal. The result looks like fine, dark coffee grounds.

Satisfied with the sight, Nanu walks stiffly and urgently back to the porch. They still need to lay out pesticide but something about their earlier shoveling isn't sitting well with his lower back. And despite the meticulous application of sunscreen, the skin of his arms have gotten so pink that a farmer's tan is now inevitable.

Hala watches Nanu retreat with a look of exasperation. He's squatting by the faucet and trying to clean sand from a drip line; a task that has become exponentially more complicated by the child and wimpod hanging from his arms. The kid has long, wiry limbs like an ariados, and brunette hair springs from his scalp like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.

"Guzma!" Nanu barks. "Lay off the poor man!"

Guzma side-eyes Nanu with obvious disregard and continues to bother Hala. Then Persian, because apparently even she is more competent than the Kahuna, gets up from her spot on the patio and arches her spine in mock-aggression, trilling at the wimpod as she does so.

Both the boy and the bug go completely still, staring with wide eyes until the massive Persian falls onto her side and rolls over with a disarming flop. Immediately, Wimpod is racing to battle her. Guzma comes tearing close behind.

As Persian and Wimpod spar in the dirt, Hala joins Nanu to watch. The bug has gotten bolder since the pokemon last saw each other. It scuttles and shoots at her with hissing jets of water.

Nanu tilts his head. It knows an offensive move?"

"Scald, believe it or not. Guzma tutored it himself."

Nanu calls out to them. "Hey, cut it out!"

Persian gently tosses the bug away and rolls onto her back with a playful trill. Wimpod half-charges at her again, only to skitter off in Guzma's direction when Nanu approaches. Persian exposes her belly to him and purrs loudly, pleading for attention. Nanu sits himself down carefully and obliges.

"How far along is she?" Hala asks.

"Only a month, but that's like the third trimester for Persians."

Hala whistles. "That's going to be a lot of meowths on really short notice."

Nanu shrugs, delighted at the thought. In the corner of his eye, he can see a sliver of movement behind the planter. Hala made the mistake of demonstrating to Guzma that he could identify the melon sprouts by smelling the sugar in their roots. For the crops in the greenhouse, this means 2 dead and 3 injured so far. Nanu turns his head at the discreet sound of the door opening; and Guzma, undoubtedly, searching for his next victim.

Persian meows. Nanu looks back at her. "Hala, not that I mind you bringing Guzma around, but I have to ask: why is he with you so often?"

"I mentor kids all the time."

"No single kid ever gets this much attention."

Hala crosses his arms, kicks softly at the ground, "You're going to think this sounds judgmental, but do you ever just... feel darkness emanating from someone? Almost enough to make you afraid?"

"Yes."

"Well, I feel that from his dad."

"Is he weird?"

"No he's normal. Charismatic, actually."

"And you just 'feel' it? There's nothing else?"

"We've never directly interacted."

Nanu frowns. "You know, if there's a problem, I can't help if I don't know what it is."

Hala refrains from answering as Guzma approaches with potting soil on his face and Wimpod's ultra ball in his hand. He looks first at Persian's swollen belly and then to the men with blatant curiosity.

"You got Wimpod put away?" Nanu asks.

Guzma nods.

"Alright, go on then." Nanu gestures to the Persian. "You can touch."

Guzma goes to feel Persian's belly and sits himself in Nanu's lap as he does so. It's the sort of unthinking contact that he often engages in with Hala, but it's so unfamiliar to Nanu that he freezes up. Guzma, noticing Nanu's reaction but not understanding the reason, twists his head up to give him a curious glance before giving his attention back to Persian. His hair brushes the bottom of Nanu's chin as he turns away. Nanu can't help but notice how soft it is. Almost exactly like a meowth.