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Chapter Text

Cynthia was a lot of things: a budding prodigy, a girl on her first journey, and maybe, just maybe, a tad too obsessed with history.

Really, though, that wasn't her fault.

It was just how her life had turned out.

As inevitable as the changing seasons, growing up with her grandmother meant stories, endless stories. Even before she could walk, before she could even talk, her grandmother would regale her with tales of Sinnoh. The myth of creation, their ancient legends shaping space and time, and the origin of the world’s one true God.

So, of course, she was obsessed. It was natural.

It wasn't her fault.

She stood at the entrance of the cave she had just slept in, her face stretched into a grin that was, frankly, a little unsettling.

It really wasn't her fault.

She raised her Pokédex and snapped another picture of the entrance, only to be interrupted before she could break into delirious laughter for what had to be the tenth time today.

A long-suffering growl cut through the air.

Cynthia turned to see her oldest companion, arms crossed, sharp eyes locked onto her with what could only be described as a look.

She blinked, lips pursing.

"Ga—Gabite!" Queenie gestured around them, fins moving wildly, as if to ask why, exactly, they were still wandering this forest a week later.

It was a fair question.

The trip was only supposed to last a couple of days. Follow Route 205, get through Eterna Forest, challenge the gym.

Simple.

Or at least, it would have been, if she hadn't gone horrendously off-trail trying to take a shortcut.

Cynthia huffed. "What? You think this is my fault? How was I supposed to know that shortcut only existed on the map? Honestly, if those mapmakers would just mark the place as Vigoroth territory, I never would have tried it!"

Queenie didn't need to speak. The unimpressed glare on her sharklike face said it all.

This was, without a doubt, completely your fault.

Cynthia snorted, shaking her head in mock disgust at her partner's lack of trust.

Okay, fine. Maybe this was somewhat her fault. And maybe she should have been exhausted and annoyed after nearly a full day of running from an enraged pack of Vigoroth.

But all of that had been forgotten when they reached the heart of the forest. Because, completely by accident, in the cave where she'd taken shelter from the rain, she'd found carvings.

Primitive, ancient, historical carvings.

Everyone knew the deeper parts of Eterna Forest were off-limits for long-term stays. Defacing the land came with extreme fines, ones you wouldn't easily escape when Psychic Pokémon were more than capable of tracking you down.

So, if no one in modern times would risk it… who had made them?

The implications.

Massive.

It could be proof that people had once lived here, in a place so restricted that even rangers only ventured in sparingly. A place most historians agreed was the one part of Sinnoh nobody had ever settled.

Cynthia's grin widened, excitement bubbling up all over again. She could already see it: her grandmother's impressed look when she presented a groundbreaking archaeological discovery at fifteen.

Fifteen!

Queenie let out a deep, suffering sigh and dragged a fin down her face, as if embarrassed, either by Cynthia herself or by the frankly terrible laugh that had just escaped her trainer.

Then… a rustle.

The sound cut through the air, sharp and sudden.

Cynthia froze, her laughter strangled in her throat. Her hand twitched toward her belt, instinct screaming at her to release another Pokémon, just to be safe, but she forced herself to stay still.

In most places, calling out another Pokémon meant extra safety. But in Eterna Forest? For the truly powerful Pokémon living here, another Pokémon would mean just another snack, another reason to chase them down.

And honestly? The last thing she needed after the Vigoroth incident was another chase.

Queenie shifted her attention from Cynthia, her gaze locking onto a nearby bush at the same time as her trainer's.

Then the landshark let out a snort.

Cynthia shot her partner a questioning glance, only to catch Queenie's unimpressed expression as a Wurmple wriggled out from the underbrush.

It stopped, large, glossy eyes focusing on their unfamiliar figures.

Cynthia felt herself relaxing at the sight. For any trainer, overconfidence was dangerous, and in Eterna Forest it could be downright deadly. But a lone Wurmple?

Even if she was being generous, it still wasn't even remotely a threat.

She took a step forward, blocking its retreat from Queenie's looming figure, only to pause.

The Wurmple quivered. It let out the tiniest, most pitiful squeak, like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be threatening or unthreatening. Then, whole body trembling, it shrank back.

Her heart clenched.

Oh no.

It was cute.

Ridiculously cute.

The way its big, glassy eyes darted around for an escape, the nervous little wiggle of its tail, ugh, it was downright precious. Cynthia felt an overwhelming urge to scoop it up right then and there. She resisted, barely, but the way her fingers twitched at her sides wasn't exactly promising.

Queenie shot her a deadpan look, already sensing what was coming.

Cynthia, undeterred, slowly crouched down, voice softening into something dangerously close to cooing.

"Hey there, little guy… No need to be scared."

The Wurmple shivered.

Cynthia melted.

She quickly slung her backpack off her shoulders, rummaging through it under the Wurmple's wary gaze.

"Aha!" She pulled out exactly what she was looking for. "Here, it's delicious. Consider it payback for scaring you."

She placed a plump, blue Oran Berry on the ground in front of the Wurmple, her voice just a tad too much like someone speaking to a baby… or a dog.

It paused.

For a second, the Wurmple just stared, first at the berry, then at her, then at Queenie, who, by now, had fully resigned herself to whatever ridiculous thing her trainer was doing.

Cynthia didn't move, watching with barely restrained excitement.

A long, agonizing second passed. Then, hesitantly, the Wurmple wiggled forward.

It gave the berry a cautious sniff, its little nose twitching. Another pause. Then, finally, it took a small nibble.

Cynthia beamed.

"Oh, look at you! You like it, don't you?" Cynthia whispered, practically vibrating with delight. "You're such a good little guy—"

It happened between moments.

One second, Cynthia was reaching for the small, precious, Bug-type.

The next, Queenie was already in front of her.

BOOM!

An explosion echoed through the air, followed by Queenie's sharp grunt of pain. Dust erupted from the impact, swallowing them both whole, only for a single, powerful flick of Queenie's fins to clear it in an instant.

It was just in time for Cynthia to see a very large Dustox hovering above them, wings flaring. It was also all she had time to register before it fired another Psywave.

A lot of trainers wouldn't have reacted.

Cynthia wasn't most trainers.

"Dragon Rage!"

Queenie didn't hesitate.

The Psywave rushed towards them.

Blue fire roared into the sky.

The two attacks collided.

Normally that caused an explosion, evenly matched attacks cancelling each other out.

Evenly matched.

The Psywave vanished, absorbed entirely as the Dragon Rage crashed into the Dustox with the force of a sledgehammer.

The insect shrieked, forced backward by the impact.

The Dustox barely had time to right itself before Queenie was already moving.

"Again!" Cynthia snapped, voice firm.

Queenie surged forward, fangs bared, another Dragon Rage building in her throat. The Dustox flapped its wings furiously, struggling to gain height, its eyes glowing as it gathered another Psywave.

Too slow.

Queenie's second blast of Dragon Rage ripped through the air, slamming into the Dustox with brutal force. It screeched, its thin body twisting as it was sent spiraling backward.

As it attempted to right itself, a faint glow surrounded the Dustox, an ethereal image of the moon shimmering around it.

Cynthia couldn't help but admire the Dustox's resilience. Few Pokémon could manage a Moonlight while on the defensive like that.

For a wild Pokémon to do it?

It was impressive, an honestly great reaction. Enough to call it a strong Pokémon.

Too bad for the Dustox, though.

Cynthia was a prodigy.

And Queenie was just stronger.

A blur of motion, and Queenie was already there. Her vicious, shark-like grin split her face just before she collided with the Dustox mid-air, her claws crackling with raw energy.

"Dragon Claw," Cynthia commanded.

Queenie's clawlike hands blurred.

And the Dustox smashed into the ground.

Hard.

Dust exploded up from its landing area and when it cleared the Dustox twitched feebly once.

Didn’t get back up.

Silence.

Cynthia exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

"Huh, that was actua—"

She didn’t get to finish her sentence.

A buzzing sound cut through the air, followed by another.

Then two. Then three. Then four.

Soon, the air was alive with the sound of wings, a cacophony of buzzing that sent chills down her spine.

What had once been a lone Dustox became ten, then twenty, and soon, a swarm of them filled the forest. Cynthia's heart leapt into her throat as the realization hit her.

This wasn't a solitary Wurmple with its lone parent.

This was a colony.

And they were about to discover her presence, and her actions, any second now.

Cynthia was a prodigy, a trainer hardened on her journey, and a budding archaeologist on the verge of a career-defining discovery.

But above all else?

She was smart.

"Queenie." Cynthia's voice cut through the buzzing, sharp and urgent.

Queenie's head snapped around, eyes meeting her trainer's with unspoken understanding.

"RUN!"

Cynthia didn’t wait another second. She took off, her heart pounding in her chest.

Without hesitation, Queenie followed, her tail lashing behind her as she surged forward, the two of them racing deeper into the heart of the forest.
….

Cynthia hated to admit it, but she might just be in way over her head.

She pulled herself from the icy waters, shivering uncontrollably as the freezing chill crept through her clothes, sinking into her bones. The idea of jumping into the river had seemed like a good one, a quick way to escape the growing swarm of Dustox that had been tailing them.

But now, soaked to the bone and frantically dripping cold water onto the forest floor, Cynthia slowly realized it might have been a mistake.

It had gotten them away from the Dustox, sure, but the water had been ice cold. She had powered through during the swim, but after getting out?

She tried to still her trembling body, but it was impossible. When her teeth stopped chattering, her arms shook uncontrollably. When she forced her arms still, her legs took over.

With a miserable groan, she glanced at the river. Her reflection stared back, scuffed and disheveled. Blonde hair stuck out in all directions, strands plastered to her face.

For a moment she let her eyes roam over her appearance.

Then she froze.

A beat went by before she grabbed toward her hair, only to find… well, hair.

Gone.

Her favorite hair ties were gone.

Cynthia's eye twitched. With a fiery glare, she looked upstream, fists clenching as the thought of revenge burned hot enough to stop her shivering, if only for a second.

A splash broke her out of her thoughts.

A blue figure soared out of the river.

Queenie, drenched and dramatic as always, landed gracefully beside her. Unlike Cynthia, the Gabite looked entirely unbothered. She shook herself off like a cat, her smooth blue scales shimmering faintly in the dimming light.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. "Must be nice."

Queenie chuffed, and did the rough Pokémon equivalent of a shrug. Her smooth, thick scales meant the cold barely affected her. Meanwhile, Cynthia was one stiff breeze away from turning into a human popsicle.

Cynthia glared at her for a second before squeezing more water from her jacket, her breath misting in the air. The chill burrowed deeper.

The next half an hour passed in a shivering blur.

With Queenie's help, Cynthia gathered as much dry wood as she could find. Her fingers trembled as she stacked it into a makeshift campfire and turned to her partner. Somehow, Queenie had already managed to get out the flint and steel from the backpack and was holding it in her mouth, looking more than a little proud of herself.

Cynthia grabbed it and struck once. Then again. And again.

Sparks flew, but the wood stayed stubbornly dark.

She gritted her teeth. “Why won’t you—”

Flames flickered to life, casting a warm glow against the creeping darkness. Cynthia sighed in relief and inched closer, soaking in the heat.

But her clothes…

She looked down at herself. Then at the fire. Then back again. The wet fabric clung to her skin, heavy with the cold. The air only got sharper with the setting sun.

With a quiet groan, she peeled off her sopping wet jacket, pants, and shoes—each movement agonizingly slow in the frigid air. Her teeth chattered as she dug through her bag, hoping, praying, for dry clothes.

No such luck.

Her spare set was just as soaked as everything else.

Cynthia stared at them for a long moment, as if sheer resentment would make them dry faster.

Then she moved her gaze to her bag, like it had personally betrayed her.

Like it would help.

It didn't, and so, with a deep breath, she laid them out near the fire, hoping they'd warm up before nightfall.

‘At least it could be worse,’ Cynthia thought bitterly. ‘If this had been saltwater, I'd never get the feeling out of my skin.’

A breeze stirred the trees overhead, but for now, the fire held the worst of the cold at bay. Cynthia curled her arms around her knees, watching the flames as she waited for the night to pass.

At least nobody could see her like this.

So much for being a prodigy.

……

A twig snapped.

Cynthia tensed, but before she could even think to react, a voice cut through the stillness.

"Holy shit. You're human?"

For a second, she thought she'd imagined it, a trick of exhaustion, of the cold, of her rapidly deteriorating sanity.

But then she turned.

No, unfortunately this entire situation wasn't a dream.

Standing just a few feet away, partially hidden between the trees, was a boy.

He looked about her age, maybe a little older, with messy dark hair and wide blue eyes that reflected the firelight.

And he was dressed in… well, almost nothing.

Rags. Scraps of fabric that might have once been clothes.

Cynthia blinked at him, her brain still sluggish. "What?"

The boy's eyebrows shot up. "I mean, I honestly thought you were a Ghost-type or a hallucination or something." He gestured vaguely at her. "But nope. Just some girl. Naked, in the middle of nowhere."

For a second she just stared at him, trying to figure out—

Her brain caught up to his words.

She looked down at her—

Heat rushed to Cynthia's face.

She wasn’t naked. Just mostly naked!

"…"

Which was still bad!

With a strangled sound, she yanked her wet jacket over herself like a makeshift blanket. Queenie lifted her head from the ground, sensing her distress, and let out a low warning growl.

"Whoa, whoa!" He lifted his hands, laughing nervously. "No offense! I just, look, I haven't seen people in a while, alright? Saw the light and figured it was a flock of Ponyta or something."

Cynthia scowled, still clutching her damp clothes around herself. "And who exactly are you?"

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "That is… honestly an excellent question." A pause. "I’ll get back to you on that the second I have that answer."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

Truly reassuring.

For a brief moment, she considered just telling Queenie to chase him off. Then she sighed. She was too kind for her own good.

"I'm Cynthia," she managed with another sigh.

The boy nodded to himself, rocking back on his heels. "Well, Cynthia…"

He froze.

His brow furrowed.

"…Why does that name sound so ominous?"

She barely caught the first part of the sentence, but as he continued to speak, she only made out something about pianos.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow at his mumbling, but before she could even begin to think about questioning him, he shook it off and refocused.

Giving her a once-over, he took in the soaked clothes, the dying fire, the entire miserable state of her. Slowly, a lopsided grin tugged at his lips.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say things aren't going great for you right now, considering this entire situation."

Cynthia lifted her chin, determined to argue that she absolutely had things under control, thank you very much.

Then a gust of wind swept through the clearing.

The fire instantly vanished.

She kept her face neutral.

"Everything is going great," she lied… like a liar.

Another gust swept over the area, and her pants flew straight into the water.

The boy moved his eyes over to the river, and the pants, now being retrieved by Queenie.

Cynthia buried her face in her knees.

"Actually, you have no idea."

Chapter Text

Cynthia glanced down at her newly acquired clothing.

The pants, too loose at the waist, threatened to slip lower with every shift, and the paper-thin fabric of the shirt did little to shield her from the lingering chill of the forest. It left her feeling oddly exposed, but at least it was better than before.

Warmer, too.

Which, honestly, was the most important part.

"Thanks," Cynthia mumbled, tugging the waistband into place with a frown.

"No problem. You looked like you needed them more than me." The boy shrugged. "Though, not sure how much good they'll do. They aren't exactly in tip-top shape anymore."

Cynthia looked up at him, ready to agree, only to freeze.

It wasn't the fact that he was standing there in just his boxers. No, her attention was squarely on his physique. At first, she hadn't noticed, too caught up in her own embarrassment. But now, as she took him in, the realization hit like a punch to the gut.

He was scrawny.

No, scrawny wasn't right. That was too weak a word.

He was malnourished.

Cynthia's stomach twisted.

When she first saw him, even with his clothing more rags than cloth, she had assumed he was like her, someone who had just wandered too deep into the forest and lost their way.

But he didn't look like that.

He didn't look like somebody lost.

He looked like he belonged here.

"Yeah, sorry about," he waved vaguely at himself, gesturing at his half-dressed state, "all this. Not exactly much to look at anymore." He cracked a lopsided grin. "But I swear, I used to have muscles."

Cynthia stared. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

She was usually better at human interaction. Honestly. Freezing half to death had to have fried her last functional brain cell.

Her eyes drifted downward before she could stop herself, properly taking in just how thin he actually was. Without the loose, hanging clothes, it was impossible to ignore, ribs jutting out, arms wiry instead of strong, like someone who had burned through every reserve and just kept going anyway.

Her gaze lingered on a scar near his hip, faded but still fresh-looking.

He coughed.

Cynthia's gaze snapped back up, only to find him staring at her with an uneasy grin, cheeks dusted pink, like he wasn't sure whether to be flattered or mortified.

"Eyes up here, please,” he said, voice tinged with forced lightness.

Heat exploded across Cynthia's face.

"No, I wasn't-!" She turned away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash, brain scrambling for something, anything, to say. When she came up empty, she just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You, uh… aren't going to get cold?"

The boy blinked, then tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question for the first time.

"Oh, that? Nah." He shrugged. "I'm kinda used to it by now."

Cynthia almost let out a sigh of relief at the averted disaster.

But…

She stilled.

He was used to it.

Used to walking around half-naked? In the cold?

That wasn't the answer of someone trying to reassure her.

That was the answer of someone who meant it.

The implications settled uncomfortably in her gut.

She glanced at him again, the way he rubbed absentmindedly at his arms, the way his ribs jutted out, the way he didn't even shiver despite the biting air.

For a second, she almost asked. Almost pressed him for an explanation. But she bit her tongue at the last second.

As curious as she was, she had a feeling it would be a long story.

And….

She shivered as another cold breeze swept through the clearing, just strong enough to send the embers of her former fire flickering back to life.

It was only going to get colder.

"So," the boy spoke up, tucking his hands into his armpits for warmth, "you coming or what? My place might not be five-star, but at least the wind won't kill us. Or, well, you know, the flesh-eating Nincada."

Cynthia stared at him, then looked around the clearing.

"Are you serious?"

The boy gave her an uneasy smile. "Not really. Pretty sure we can survive the wind."

The wind whooshed by.

She wasn't going to lie, she had never packed her things that fast in her life. In mere moments she had stuffed everything into a lumpy bundle, smashed it into her backpack and slung it over her shoulders, wincing as the wet chill seeping through.

"Ok, ready, lets get out of here." She said, motioning for Queenie to get off the ground.

The boy let out an impressed whistle.

"Great. Now, if you could keep up, maybe Rei won't try to kill me for being out without her."

He took off before explaining what he meant.

"Hey, wait up!" Cynthia said, taking off after him.

As she ran, she found herself glancing at his back, at the way he moved, like someone who knew this forest inside and out.

How long had he been here?

………………

Cynthia didn't consider herself to be in bad shape. She was a trainer, after all, and it was rare to find a trainer who wasn't at least somewhat fit.

But next to him?

She felt like a Machamp.

He panted, forcing his legs into a steady rhythm, each step looking more like an exercise in stubbornness than actual running. Honestly, if he knew sprinting at the start would drain him this fast, he should've just stuck to a jog.

"We could take a rest…" Cynthia started, slowing slightly, only for the boy to turn back toward her, eyes bloodshot and glassy.

"No."

He panted.

"We."

He coughed.

"Are."

He stumbled.

"Late."

Late for what? Cynthia frowned, but before she could ask, he pushed forward again, staggering like a newborn Ponyta learning how to walk. She shot Queenie a look, and the Gabite, who had been keeping pace effortlessly, tilted her head, concern creeping into her usually sharp gaze.

"Yeah, I think he might be in trouble too," Cynthia muttered.

Still, she couldn't deny that picking up the pace was probably a good idea. Her hands had long since lost feeling, the tips of her fingers aching as the cold gnawed at her skin. Even her breath felt sharp, each inhale like swallowing tiny shards of ice.

Yeah. Maybe hurrying up wasn't the worst idea.

….

They pushed forward for only a few more minutes before the forest changed, thinning out to reveal an area where rock jutted from the ground in uneven patches, grass and moss clinging stubbornly to the cracks. The sudden openness after the dense trees caught Cynthia off guard, and she nearly walked straight into the boy when he came to an abrupt stop.

"Fuck." He mumbled.

"Why did you stop?" She asked, using the stop to catch her breath. "Are we here?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head back, staring at the sky as the sun arced downwards. For a long, dramatic moment, he simply stood there, eyes closed, arms lifting slightly, as if basking in some unseen warmth.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

"What… are you doing?"

"I am using my last moments on this earth," he intoned, voice thick with conviction, "to worship the sun."

She blinked.

"…Huh?"

"BUNNEARY!"

The furious cry rang through the clearing, and before Cynthia could react, something small and fast slammed into the boy with enough force to send him crashing into her.

A strangled gasp tore from her throat as they both almost hit the ground. Instead she felt herself land in the waiting arms of her partner. Queenie, to her credit, barely flinched, catching their combined weight.

Then she unceremoniously dropped them both anyway.

Cynthia groaned, shoving herself up onto her elbows, breath still knocked out of her.

The boy, meanwhile, gasped dramatically from where he lay sprawled on his back. "Rei," he wheezed. "You wound me."

Cynthia pushed herself upright, shaking off the daze, and turned to face the source of the sneak attack.

A Buneary stood in front of them, ears puffed up in pure, unfiltered rage. Its foot tapped against the ground impatiently, fur bristling, cheeks puffed out as if it were prepared to personally end his entire bloodline.

It was, quite possibly, the least intimidating thing Cynthia had ever seen.

A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, breathless and light. Rei was just… impossibly, ridiculously cute. Even with all its fury, the tiny Pokémon looked like an angry plush toy.

The boy groaned, dragging himself into a sitting position. "Rei is just a little overzealous," he muttered, rubbing the spot where he'd been tackled.

The Buneary huffed, turning its glare toward Cynthia.

Cynthia blinked. "Uh… hi?"

Rei narrowed its eyes.

Before Cynthia could figure out what to do with that, a low sigh drifted through the trees.

Cynthia tensed.

The sound was soft, barely more than a breath, but something about it made her skin prickle. Her instincts stirred, warning her before she even turned her head.

The shadows shifted.

Half a dozen Buneary stood at the treeline, watching. They were smaller than Rei, their wide eyes filled with quiet curiosity. But it wasn't them that caught her attention, it was the figure standing just behind them.

A Lopunny.

A shiny Lopunny.

It was the largest Cynthia had ever seen, shiny or otherwise. Its fur was immaculate, almost glowing under the rising sunlight.

It was beautiful.

It was also strong.

Cynthia felt her breath catch in her throat as its presence pressed against the clearing, silent but heavy.

Like a physical weight.

Even Queenie hesitated and Cynthia saw her partner shift, muscles tensing as she took half a step back, closer to her trainer.

Cynthia inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay still.

Her grandmother had warned her, some wild Pokémon are stronger than trained ones. Cynthia had nodded at the time, listened and then filed it away. She knew that, it was common sense after all. But now, standing in front of this Lopunny, she felt it.

She had a sinking suspicion that if this came down to a fight, even with her entire team deployed, she wouldn't be walking away the winner.

For a long moment, the Lopunny simply studied her.

Cynthia swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how she must have looked, half-frozen, wearing clothes that weren't hers, barely keeping it together. She looked like a mess, not an up-and-coming trainer prodigy.

It all was enough to make her feel like… like…

Cynthia rejected that thought.

Instead, she dug her nails into her palm, the sharp pain snapping her focus back. She forced herself to glare, willing herself less…

Whatever she looked like right now.

Then, finally, the Lopunny let out another soft sigh.

It turned its gaze toward the boy.

"Oh, Lopunny, you came to get me too?" The boy said sheepishly, as if he hadn't just been thrown to the ground by a furious Buneary.

Cynthia risked a glance at him.

He was still sitting in the dirt, grinning sheepishly, but there was something softer in his expression now. Her brain suddenly connected it, his relaxed demeanour, the way the Buneary hadn't actually hurt him.

Cynthia exhaled slowly, willing herself to relax, even as her frozen limbs protested. She forced a smile, tight, awkward, but a smile nonetheless.

"Hi?" she tried again.

The Lopunny regarded her for a moment longer.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, it turned and walked away.

Cynthia shot the boy a look, but he was already moving, standing up as if nothing had happened.

With a quiet breath, she followed.

….

"You were worried? About Lopunny?" The boy asked, sounding like he couldn't believe his ears.

Cynthia shot him a sharp look, as she tried to absorb as much heat from the small fire as possible. Sure, they might be sitting at the entrance of the cave, far away from the Lopunny, but the Pokémon was famous for its hearing.

For all that the boy seemed to think he was in no danger, wild Pokémon were wild Pokémon. They were unused to humans, and even the fact it allowed him to live here wi….

Cynthia let out a sigh.

"Honestly, I was," she mumbled, poking the fire with a stick. "But maybe it's just the entire day making me paranoid. I guess it's fine, considering it's allowed you to live with its children."

The boy didn't answer right away. Instead, he mumbled to himself, eyes still fixed on the fire. "I think she sees me as something similar."

Cynthia glanced deeper into the cave, catching a glimpse of one of the younger Buneary. "What do you mean by that?"

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the mouth of the cave. Outside, the forest stretched in peaceful golden light. When he spoke again, his voice was softer than before.

"I woke up in a cave not that far from here." He said.

Cynthia stilled at the complete non-sequitur.

Her hand froze mid poke, the stick still lodged in the fire. The heat from the flames felt distant, as if the world itself had pulled away from her for that one moment. Her mind, for a brief second, was back on the question she had avoided earlier today: how had he ended up here?

She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft with a quiet curiosity. "You… woke up?"

His eyes didn't leave the fire. The distant look in them spoke of something far deeper than mere confusion. "Yeah. I didn't know where I was, who I was, or even how I got there." His lips twisted into a wry smile, though it lacked any trace of humour. "Just woke up, cold, with no memories to speak of. No name, no history. Nothing."

He paused for a moment, "No, that's not even true," he added, voice quieter now. "I remember things. For a while I felt like I was going crazy, knowing all this stuff and having no clue who I was."

He raised a hand, letting the firelight dance over it.

"Rei found me first. And I think she sort of took pity on me, dragged me back to her home, vouching for me to stay the night. When I saw all the small ones, I honestly thought Lopunny would chase me off, but she didn't. She just sat me down, handed me an Oran Berry, and started a fire. Like she was some kind of neighborhood mom, not someone who could kick away a small mountain."

Cynthia stared at him, speechless.

"That's incredible," She finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, it's been pretty nice, on behalf of the whole, me-not-being-dead thing."

Cynthia's mouth went dry as she processed what he'd just said. Her mind spun with a thousand questions. For many Pokémon, the idea of adopting someone like that wasn't unheard of, there were even cases of Chansey, Audino, and even an Arcanine adopting humans.

But a Lopunny?

"No, I mean," she said, standing up, her gaze sharp, "what do you know about Lopunnys?"

The boy shrugged. "About as much as everybody else, their Normal type, a fast physical attacker that evolves by friendship."

Cynthia's eyes glittered with a renewed intensity, some energy returning to her via the heat of the fire. She leaned forwards, feeling a surge of excitement.

"And they're also known for being incredibly distrustful. It's theorized they form tight-knit families, because they instinctively reject outsiders." Her voice grew more animated as she thought through the implications of what he'd said. "But you-"

She stopped, her thoughts snapping into place. Something he'd said clicked in her mind.

"You said they evolve how?"

Chapter Text

Lots of people thought that Cynthia was simply lucky.

That she had somehow stumbled into her modest fame, that she didn’t deserve it. Because she wasn’t someone who had clawed her way up from nothing. Wasn’t an orphan or a child with a single mother, making her way through the gyms with only the most common Pokémon one could find.

So people called her lucky.

Lucky to be born as the granddaughter of a famous Professor.

Lucky to get a Gible egg as a child.

Lucky to be born with the gifts she had.

She never really minded. People could think what they wanted, just because they couldn’t do what she could, didn’t mean everything about her could be reduced to luck.

Of course, in some ways, she was lucky.

She could admit that to herself. She had advantages most trainers could only dream of, but that didn’t change anything.

There were plenty of people who had even more advantages than her.

Plenty of people who were even luckier.

Who had a champion for a parent.

Who could get any Pokemon they wanted.

Who was born smarter than she could even dream of being.

And, even with all those things, a lot of those people still amounted to nothing.

Because, honestly?

Simply being lucky didn’t change anything.

It wasn’t luck that kept her up late at night, studying every known strategy, move set, and battle technique. It wasn’t luck that had her notebooks stacked high, filled with training notes, theories, and plans. It wasn’t luck that made her drop everything to figure out how to earn Queenie’s respect or spend hours perfecting her team’s growth.

And even now, after everything that had happened yesterday, she was up as early as ever.

Because if she wanted to be stronger, if she wanted to achieve her goals, there were no shortcuts. No skipping training, no taking it easy. That was what most people never got, that having all the advantages in the world didn’t matter if you didn’t do something with them.

That was something she took pride in, that she always gave it her all. Because while she might be lucky, she also worked harder than anyone else.

Which was why it felt like a punch to the gut when she spotted the boy next to Rei, both of them staring intently at a large boulder, riddled with cracks and strange indentations.

"You're awake?" The words spilled out of Cynthia’s mouth before she could stop them.

Rei didn’t react, too focused on something, while the boy merely glanced at her and mimed for her to be quiet. She almost spoke up anyway but shut her mouth with an audible clack as Rei’s ear lit up with a faint, pale blue glow.

It was the start of a move. But from a single glance, Cynthia could tell it was unstable. The light flickered, wavering like a candle in the wind, the technique refusing to take proper shape. Rei’s eyes narrowed, her teeth clenched, determination tightening her small frame as she fought to force the move under her control.

Slowly, painstakingly, it began to stabilize, the icy glow creeping across her ear like frost spreading over glass.

Then, before it could slip away, Rei swung.

Straight into the boulder.

The boy cringed.

Cynthia cringed.

And Rei-

Rei howled, stumbling back as she cradled her ear like a wounded limb. She let out a rapid, high-pitched string of noises that, to Cynthia’s trained ear, sounded suspiciously like the kind of cursing her grandmother muttered after stubbing her toe on a table leg.

As the initial shock wore off, Rei turned sharply toward the boy, eyes narrowing in pure accusation, like this was somehow his fault.

Cynthia couldn’t help it. She cracked a smile at the familiar byplay.

“Hey, that was not my fault,” the boy protested, raising his hands defensively, only to barely dodge a swinging ear. “Why are you attacking me? You were the one who swung before we were ready!”

Rei did not look convinced. And just as she lunged at him, ears poised for vengeance, Cynthia decided to throw him a bone.

“That was supposed to be Ice Punch, right?”

Both the boy and the Buneary froze, turning to look at her at the exact same time, him with pure gratitude, her with lingering irritation.

Cynthia took in the scene, the boy straining to hold back Rei’s long ears, the Buneary practically standing on his chest, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Actually.

A thought popped up into her mind as she processed the situation.

“I could tell, since I have a team-member who has practiced the same move.” Cynthia continued casually and watched the way they both perked up.

Hook.

She plucked a minimized Poké Ball from her belt and let it expand to full size with a click. Then, with a practiced flick of her wrist, she tossed it into the air. The ball split open with a familiar crack, releasing a brilliant white beam that quickly took shape.

“Riolu!” The cry of her second oldest team member rang out.

“Riolu has more or less mastered it,” Cynthia continued smoothly, hands on her hips. “And if you want, he could probably help you learn it…” She trailed off, letting the offer hang.

The boy’s eyes practically lit up at the sight of her Pokémon.

Line.

“…But it would be great if you could answer some questions while he helps out Rei,” Cynthia added smoothly.

The boy hesitated, glancing at Rei, who had already moved over to Riolu. She stood before him, arms crossed, radiating disbelief. The kind of look that said there is no way you, a tiny blue dog, have anything to teach me.

“Sure! That’d be fantastic,” the boy said, a little too quickly. “We’ve really been struggling with the move. I just can’t seem to understand how Ice-type energy functions as a punching move….” He trailed off, staring at Cynthia with an odd expression.

Sinker.

Cynthia felt a slightly silly smile appear on her face, and from the look of the boys face he seemed to suddenly rethink how great an offer this had been.

“Fantastic.” Cynthia felt herself purr.

The boy paled. “Actually, I think we need to wor…”

She didn’t let him finish.

After yesterday’s conversation had been cut short, courtesy of a very motherly, very angry Lopunny, she still had about a million questions for him. And now?

Now, he had nowhere to run.

….

Cynthia crossed her arms, her fingers digging into her sleeves. “So you have no actual basis for anything you’re saying.” Her tone was sharper than she intended, but she didn’t care enough to soften it. It was frustrating how his answers kept circling back to the same thing.

He just knew.

No reasoning, no evidence, just certainty.

The boy, and seriously, she really needed to get him a name, shrugged, his expression irritatingly casual. “Nope. In my mind, the things I know are crystal clear. It’s just... well, it feels like common knowledge. Or, uh, not exactly common knowledge, but like the kind of thing you’d pick up if you knew a bit about Pokémon trivia.”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, studying him. His face was annoyingly blank, almost indifferent, as if the bizarre situation didn’t bother him at all. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, quickly hidden behind that practiced what-can-you-do expression.

For a moment they just stared at each other and Cynthia felt some disappointment well up inside her. Even though the boy had told her he only remembered facts, those facts didn’t seem to include explanations.

Which was, if he wanted people to believe them, the most important part.

She sighed, her shoulders sagging just slightly.  “I guess that would be too easy.”

The boy perked up. “I mean, you could try and send it to a Pokémon Professor, right? They could test if it’s right or not? Though… how would they even test that actually? Haven’t really thought about it, but evolving by friendship…” He trailed off, scratching his head.

Cynthia blinked, momentarily thrown off by the suggestion. She hadn’t expected him to think that far ahead. “Yeah, that was sort of what I realized too. I’ll still log it in the Pokédex, but it will probably go straight onto the backburner. Professor Rowan is busy as is, and...” she sighed, her voice growing softer, “Evolution is already something that can happen at any time. Some Pokémon evolve after a personal realization, after all. How would you test for something like liking someone enough?”

The boy pursed his lips, “I mean, it wouldn’t be liking somebody right?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged again, but this time his gaze was distant, like he was trying to grab onto a memory that kept slipping away. “I mean, liking somebody is... well, it’s complicated. You could like me right now, but tomorrow, you might hate me for being annoying. It feels like the criteria for evolution would be trust. That seems... I don’t know, more right.”

Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to argue. Trust wasn’t that different from like, was it? But then she paused, her mind racing through battle scenarios and experiences with Queenie. Trust did seem more... solid, more consistent. As a Gible, Queenie had quickly liked her, but trusting her decisions?

That had taken time.

Her eyes widened. “Wait, you said that felt more right?” she asked, excitement bubbling up in her chest. “Are you sure that isn’t some hint from your knowledge?”

He threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know, okay? A lot of what I know doesn’t make sense. Honestly, I’m surprised you even believe me.”

Cynthia didn’t hesitate, the words spilled forward like a mantra. “Just because something seems unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Just because it’s old and traditional doesn’t mean it lacks meaning. A lot of people dismiss knowledge and experiences, the myths and superstitions. But I’ve learned that many of them have reasonable explanations behind them. There’s a reason the earliest Pokédex entries were filled with myths. They held a hint of truth. Like how people fear Absol, thinking it brings disaster. But among professors, it’s common knowledge that Absol doesn’t cause disasters; it warns people about them.”

The boy blinked, his arms slowly dropping to his sides as he stared at her, his mouth slightly open. “Huh... I never thought about it that way.”

Cynthia crossed her arms, tilting her chin up in defiance of imaginary opponents. “Of course not. Most people don’t. They hear something that sounds strange or doesn’t fit what they know, and they write it off as nonsense. But that’s just ignorance. I don’t care how weird the things you say are. If there’s a chance they hold some truth, then I want to know. If it leads nowhere, well at least I explored the possibility.”

The boy looked at her, really looked at her, his gaze sharp and thoughtful in a way she hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t think I have ever met anybody who thought like that, people usually prefer to stay inside their own bubble.” He said, looking like he saw her for the first time.

Cynthia felt her cheeks warm but refused to look away. “Well, that’s because you’ve never met me before.”

His lips quirked into a lopsided smile, his eyes softening. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

They stood there for a moment, the forest around them quiet, only the rustling leaves and distant cries of wild Pokémon filling the silence. Cynthia shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling a little awkward under his steady gaze.

She cleared her throat.

“Anyway, just because I believe you doesn’t mean I’m not going to question you,” she started, trying to sound stern. “If you’re going to spout weird facts, I’m going to get to the bottom of where they’re coming from.”

His lips curled into a teasing smile. “Oh, so I guess you’re prepared to stick close to me then? Watch over me in case I let slip some other nugget of information?”

“That’s right, I—” She stopped herself, her eyes widening as the implication sank in. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, arms tightening defensively across her chest.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Didn’t realize you were that eager to be my shadow. I get it though, who wouldn’t want to? Miss Assistant to the next great Pokémon professor, don’t worry though, I will mention you in my future memoir.”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just meant until we get out of the forest. I still need to continue my journey.”

He threw her a mock hurt look. “I see, so once we're out of here, you'll just leave me behind? Squeeze my dry in the forest and then throw me away after you’re done?”

Cynthia felt her face grow even redder, heat prickling at her neck. She crossed her arms tighter, summoning every ounce of indignation she could muster.

“That’s not—” She stopped herself, taking a breath to calm herself down. “You’re teasing me.”

The boy just gave her a smile. “How about we check out if your Riolu has managed to break through Rei’s brick skull.” He said, before turning on his heels and walking away.

Cynthia took a deep breath, then quickly caught up.

………

Cynthia had figured that with the boy and Lopunny around, finding a way out of the forest would be a walk in the park. After all they had a map, and the boy had lived here for months.

How hard could it be?

The answer was, apparently, very hard.

Cynthia groaned, burying her face in her hands as she glared at the half-ruined map. It was a miracle the thing had survived at all, considering its impromptu swim in the river, but that didn’t change the fact that most of it was now a smeared, unreadable mess.

Beside her, the boy squinted at the paper, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Then his eyes widened. “Oh.”

Cynthia perked up immediately, hope sparking in her chest. “You recognize something? You know where we are?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the P with a sheepish grin. “I just realized... I don’t know how to read a map.”

For a long moment, Cynthia just stared at him. “What do you mean you don’t know how to read a map?” Her voice was dangerously low.

He shrugged, looking genuinely confused by her outrage. “I thought the map was just messed up, but... yeah. Pretty sure I never learned how to read one.”

Cynthia’s eye twitched. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, words failing her as she looked at his guileless expression. He didn’t even seem to understand why that might be a problem.

“You don’t know how to read a map?” She repeated, her voice flat.

He raised an eyebrow, like he was wondering how that was a problem and as he opened his mouth to answer again, Cynthia cut him off.

“How could you not know how to read a map? It’s literally mandatory knowledge if you want to go on a Journey, no actually, its just mandatory knowledge in general!”

For the first time, his expression hardened, a flash of annoyance breaking through his usual nonchalance. “I don’t know! What part of amnesia don’t you understand?”

Cynthia opened her mouth, just to shut it again. She hadn’t meant it like that.

“Sorry.” She mumbled.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping. “No, it’s fine. Just…” He took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I need to get out of this forest. I honestly think I was going a little crazy before you showed up. For as fun as it is to speculate about how type energy works or train Rei, it’s not the same as talking to another human being.”

He paused, gesturing to himself. “That, and... well, I don’t think humans are meant to survive on only Oran Berries for months on end.”

A heavy silence hung between them. Cynthia’s anger evaporated, replaced by a prickling guilt that settled in her chest.

Apparently, it showed on her face because the boy forced a smile. “Okay, so how about we just go with the first plan? We follow the river. On my own, Lopunny wouldn’t let me, but with you coming along, we can probably convince her.”

Cynthia forced herself to return the smile. “She didn’t let you go on your own?”

He shook his head, glancing toward where Rei was shepherding her smaller siblings. “No. Or, well, I think she’s worried Rei would come along, and without anybody else to defend me, she’s not sure if we’d make it.”

“You don’t think she would go with you?” Cynthia asked, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“I’m not sure. I want her to, of course, but... she has responsibilities here. Even if I helped out, I’m not really her trainer after all.”

Cynthia looked at Rei, then back at the boy, her gaze softening. During her life, she had seen the many different bonds people shared with their Pokémon. Some treated them like pets, others like partners, or even best friends. His bond with Rei wasn’t quite like her connection with Queenie, but...

Rei looked back at them, her eyes fixed not on Cynthia but on the boy, anticipation glimmering in her gaze. It was like she understood things were about to change.

Cynthia’s lips curled into a rare, gentle smile. “I think you might be surprised if you think she’d leave you behind.”

Chapter Text

Cynthia wished she could say that after making their plan, they followed through on it the very same day. That they simply packed their things, bid mommy Lopunny farewell, and marched out of the forest without a second thought. 

But two days had passed since they decided to follow the river, and they were still stuck here. 

Because, unfortunately, a little something called reality, with an added dash of common sense, had other ideas.

Entering the forest and getting this far had been, for the most part, quite easy. Sure, there were a few hiccups along the way, not to mention the fact that she wasn’t supposed to wander this deep, but reaching this place hadn’t been that difficult.

As they started planning their trip it had slowly dawned on Cynthia that getting out of here might be a slightly bigger task.

Before setting out on her journey between cities, Cynthia always made sure to overpack. It was one of those pieces of advice her grandmother had given her that she had, in fact, taken to heart.

To always bring more of everything than you think you’ll need. 

This time she had brought over a week's worth for a trip that was supposed to take a couple of days. Unfortunately, even overpacking couldn't prepare her for actually needing over a week's worth of food for what should have been a quick jaunt. Though, honestly, if you ran out of even the supplements your Pokémon needed to maximize their training, calling it overpacking might've been generous.

She glanced down into her bowl, at the last of her rations… the ones she’d bought by accident ages ago and then promptly let rot.

Well, not rot, they were dehydrated after all, so it wasn’t like they could. But they were still, without a doubt, the most unappetizing meals among the many long-storage food options she had carried into the forest.

If she had any other choice, she wouldn’t even touch the stuff, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Still, her eyes drifted longingly to her backpack and the waterproof section, where the last of her precious sweets were stashed away, saved for emergencies. This situation was pretty dire… but maybe not emergency candy dire.

At least not when Mystery Boy was right next to her, that would lead to her having to share the last of her sweets.

“This is freaking amazing,” Mystery Boy said suddenly.

She glanced over to see him devouring the last of his food. Well, devouring might’ve been an exaggeration, he ate slowly, methodically, but it was the spirit of the thing.

Every spoon was filled to the brim, and compared to what she was doing?

She might as well have been poking the food.

For a moment she just stared, not quite believing her eyes.

No, she hadn’t given him the Curry, or some of the other similar looking bags. The greyish colour was unmistakable.

It was still Professor Oak’s Super Gruel.

Crazy.

Wrinkling her nose, she felt her gaze flicking to her backpack once more before she forcefully looked away. No. She had to be strong. Candy was for emergencies. Times where she had lost all hope and needed the boost.

Like… like if she stumbled over that colony of Dustox again.

And she had to jump into the river... again.

Cynthia absentmindedly shoved another spoonful of the tasteless mush into her mouth and immediately regretted it.

Still, she carefully managed to guide the food-containing-all-the-nutrients-you-needed down her throat before her eyes locked onto Mystery Boy.

She stabbed her spoon into the bowl with more force than strictly necessary, sending a few greyish blobs flying. “How are you actually enjoying this?”

He paused, looking over to her only half eaten bowl, and then down to his almost empty one.

He shrugged. “I mean it’s not great, but when all you’ve eaten for three months are Oran Berries, anything different tastes like heaven by comparison. I swear those things made me think I hated eating.”

Cynthia almost wanted to argue, about a second away from throwing a meaningful look at Queenie and Rei, both looking more than satisfied with said Oran Berries.

Then she paused and actually thought about what he was saying.

Professor Oak’s Super Gruel might have been one of mankind's great mistakes, a foolish attempt to create a single product that gave a person every nutrient they needed in a day.

But Oran Berries?

They were older than mankind’s mistakes.

They were a truly primordial evil in comparison.

She knew that intimately.

When she was younger, she’d thought they looked delicious… right up until she’d taken a bite out of one meant for her grandmother’s Chingling. Just the thought of the taste… she shuddered, feeling the phantom taste of smooth bitterness crawl up her tongue.

Mystery Boy gave her a look of sympathy, and she couldn’t help but share a commiserating glance with him.

“I see you too have had to endure the horror.” He said slowly, playing up a shudder, his face painfully grave.

“Truly, it was a crime most foul that was committed against me,” Cynthia intoned, her face deadly serious. “Deceiving my young heart with its blue, plump and delicious-looking appearance.”

Mystery Boy blinked, clearly not expecting her to play along.

Then his face lit up, eyes wide with excitement. “Aha! I knew you thought I was funny!”

He beamed, practically glowing with delight, and Cynthia couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He looked like a child who’d just won a prize.

“I already regret saying anything.”

He just smiled at her, and she looked away, not wanting to see the smug creep into his grin. Instead, her gaze wandered once more to her bag.

“You keep staring pretty intensely at your bag.”

Cynthia froze.

Then she smiled naturally.

Raised a single eyebrow.

And casually replied, “What are you talking about?”

Nailed it.

Mystery Boy just stared at her, his face blank, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You should never consider going into acting. Don’t even think about it.”

Cynthia flushed.

“I should just leave you here.” She hissed.

He raised a finger, and she glared at it.

It slowly fell, and he gave her a quick smile, before his eyes desperately started scanning the room. His eyes landed on Rei, and she almost see the lightbulb go off over his head.

“Soooo, did you notice your Riolu helping Rei learn Ice Punch earlier today?”

Smooth, Cynthia thought, but she still opened her mouth. After all, him changing the topic helped her as much as him.

“I did, I honestly didn’t think she would get it that fast.”

Or at all, She added internally.

It wasn’t a dig on the Rabbit Pokémon, it was just a cold observation.

Buneary weren’t exactly known for their variety in battle. They were nimble and fast, sure, but their moves were... straightforward. Mostly normal type attacks, with the occasional Fighting type move, nothing too fancy.         

Among normal types?

They were almost infamous for their inability to quickly learn a lot of the moves one would expect, elemental punches among them.

“Really? You saw how close she was like two days ago, right?”

Cynthia blinked. Her first instinct was to snap back at his teasing, of course Rei had been trying, but she hadn’t been actually close.

Then she realized... he sounded genuinely surprised.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

‘What.’

On most things Pokémon, he seemed to be insanely knowledgeable.

Without a hint he had managed to guess every move Queenie knew and even figured that one of the moves they were currently working on was Dragon Claw. More than that, after watching her Riolu struggle against a local Wormadam’s Protect, he had somehow taught him to use Feint.

In a single afternoon.

Moves didn’t just… happen like that. The only ones that came that easily were so instinctual they were practically built into a Pokémon’s DNA, like Tackle, Scratch, or Ember. And she had poured over every book on the Riolu line and never even heard of such a thing.

She wasn’t going to lie, after that she had actually thought he might have been some kind of prodigy before losing his memories. But then he’d say stuff like this, and she’d have to wonder if he’d ever trained a Pokémon in his life.

To anyone who understood Type Energy, Rei hadn’t even been close to mastering Ice Punch. Sure, she’d managed to channel Ice-type energy, a step many struggled with, but that was only the beginning. If that was all it took, then Normal-types could learn every move in existence.

What Rei had tried when punching the boulder?

It was like setting her hand on fire and calling it Fire Punch.

It wasn’t close, but it would look close to a casual observer… to someone who hadn’t actually learned how type energy functioned.

It brought up a million questions about him, just as his knowledge always did.

Where would you even end up with knowledge as lopsided as his?  The things he knew... they were so weird. Like someone who could do algebra but couldn’t handle basic addition. It honestly made her reconsider her thought from yesterday.

That he might be from the ancient past or something.

She’d dismissed it as nonsense, a byproduct of thinking of those ancient carvings she found for too long.

But now...

She remembered her grandmother’s history books, the ones describing how people in Hisui used to live in fear of Pokémon. If he was from a time like that, his knowledge might make some sense. They might have carefully studied what moves a Pokémon knew in the wild, so they could survive an encounter.

But they probably wouldn’t know too much about how to train Pokémon, since they didn’t have Pokémon.

“So, you didn’t think she would master it?” He asked.

Cynthia snapped back to the present, shoving those wild ideas out of her head. They were ridiculous anyway.

“It’s nothing against Rei, but Buneary just fundamentally struggle with most Type Energies that aren’t Normal or Fighti-”

…..

Cynthia replayed their farewell in her mind, the tearful, heartfelt exchange between Myst and Lopunny. The way he promised to take care of Rei, and how Rei had said goodbye to each of her younger siblings before hugging her mother tightly.

She thought about what she’d do once they were out of this forest, about showing her grandmother the pictures she’d taken.

None of it could distract her from the burning frustration she felt as she watched Myst strolling ahead, whistling some horribly off-tune, jaunty song.

“Buneary aren’t supposed to learn the elemental punches that easily. Plenty of people have tried, and it usually takes years. I thought you were joking when you said she knew all of them,” Cynthia said, unable to hold back her irritation.

“A bet’s a bet,” Myst said, walking along the riverbank with a spring in his step as he took in the scenery. “You were the one who said ‘no way.’”

Cynthia glared at his back, her backpack feeling like it weighed a million tons. Stuffed with Sitrus Berries and dried meat, it was far heavier than she’d anticipated. Then again, she hadn’t anticipated carrying all of it. Originally, they were supposed to split the load, a little under half going into his makeshift backpack.

Then he just had to challenge her to a bet.

“You’ve only trained Rei for, what, half a year? How did you even teach her all of them?”

“At most half a year, I didn’t exactly have a calendar out here,” he corrected with a chuckle. “And what can I say? She’s just a genius, I guess.”

At his words, Rei let out a sound of pure smugness. Cynthia glanced over at their Pokémon. Riolu trailed behind Rei like a hopeless puppy, stumbling over his own feet as he yipped in eager agreement.

Normally, she might’ve teased Riolu about speedrunning his way into a painfully obvious crush, but right now?

She glared at Rei, whose adorable face was still contorted into a smug, self-satisfied grin. It was infuriating how she could barely muster up any anger looking at that face. Rei’s wide eyes sparkled with innocent mischief, and her tiny nose twitched with barely concealed pride.

Cynthia grumbled under her breath. As much as Rei’s adorability shielded her from outright wrath, it didn’t mean she was feeling any particular fondness for the Buneary either right now. And to think that before all this, she’d actually felt sorry for the little rabbit.

When Myst had first asked Rei to perform Fire Punch and Thunder Punch, she had looked on the verge of tears, her paws trembling as she prepared to attack the tree stump Myst had pointed out. Cynthia had been ready to step in, to tell Myst that he was pushing his Pokémon too hard.

To help her out, Cynthia had even raised the stakes, upping her share of the supplies from three-quarters to the full amount, just to prove that he shouldn’t push his Pokémon to do something they couldn’t do.

Then she had gone ahead and instantly fired off Fire Punch, Thunder Punch and Ice Punch in rapid succession.

Looking gleeful while doing so.

“Some Pokémon have moves they’re just unnaturally talented in. It’s rare, but not unheard of, like a Nidoran learning Confusion or a Ralts learning Shadow Sneak. But learning three moves outside of what they normally learn in just a couple of months? That’s impossible.” She spat out the last words, feeling acutely robbed. She had seen his confidence, but she had read articles on the topic in scientific journals.

So how come she lost?

Myst slowed his pace and turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Wait, you don’t know why some Pokémon can learn those moves?”

Cynthia’s glare intensified. “What do you mean, I don’t know? Nobody does! Some Pokémon just pick up certain moves faster than others. Most trainers have to spend ages teaching a Ralts how to use Shadow Sneak, while a few lucky ones learn it in a couple of months.”

Myst tilted his head, as if the answer were obvious. “It’s because it’s an Egg Move.”

Cynthia opened her mouth to argue, to tell him to shut up and stop pretending to know more than he did. But she recognized that tone, had already heard it all too many times.

She gritted her teeth. “And what, exactly, is an Egg Move?”

Myst shrugged. “You know how certain Pokémon can breed across species?”

Cynthia nodded slowly.

“Well, take Rei, for example. Her mom’s a Lopunny, but her dad was a Hitmonchan. He knew the elemental punches, so when Rei was born, she inherited some of his talent.”

Cynthia wanted to call it nonsense, wanted to laugh in his face.

She really did.

If it were that simple, surely someone would’ve figured it out by now. And yet… the logic was there. It didn’t sound completely impossible.

In fact…

She thought back to the scientific journal her grandmother had sent her, written by a former student of Professor Oak. It had been about evolution, and while she hadn’t read the entire thing, she remembered skimming the summary and the bullet points that outlined the key topics.

One of them had been labelled “Egg Moves.”

She stopped.

‘What.’

“Myst… do you think you are from Johto?” She asked.

Myst stopped and threw her a weird look. “Are you talking to me?”

She nodded, feeling a little like she was dreaming.

It didn’t line up... or, well, it didn’t line up well.

According to Lopunny and Rei, Myst had been stuck in the forest for almost half a year. This paper had been published two months ago, and even then it had only reached Sinnoh right before she had started her journey to Eterna city.

“Okay, first of all, when did I become Myst? Second of all, I don’t think so, but honestly, I have no ide-” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing. “And you’re not listening.”

No, she was drawing too many hasty conclusions. Just because the names lined up didn’t mean they were talking about the same thing.

There was nothing saying he was right about this.

“Are you that tired? Because if you want, I can take my half of the food. It was honestly just a joke, I didn’t think you’d actually carry all of it. Like, honestly, carrying it for four hours is more than enough.”

At the same time, he had been right about almost everything so far. If his knowledge on the topic came from before his amnesia, at least.

Said things that were probably wrong?

Sure, but nothing she could confirm.

What did that mean?

“Cynthia, anybody in there? We kinda need to get a move on. I didn’t say anything earlier because we were keeping pace, but this area isn’t fantastic for sitting around.”

The most likely explanation was suddenly that he was connected to that student of Oak. Maybe he was one of the student’s pupils?

“Rei, why are your ears twitching and Riolu why are you staring into the forest?”

It would make some sense, he was about the right age, and his knowledge seemed to be almost entirely theoretical. If he was someone who skipped his journey to go straight into research, it wasn’t impossible for him to apprentice under Oak’s student.

“Actually, neither of you answer that, I already know.”

There was just one problem with the entire theory.

It only fit some of his quirks.

“You-” Cynthia started.

Her instincts warned before anything else.

She snapped her gaze up towards the forest, just to see a white blur fly towards her.

“Double Kick!”

“Force palm!”

She reacted instantly.

Their voices still mixed together.

That didn’t stop their Pokémon.

Rei moved first, her brown body a blur as her ears lit up. She deflected the incoming Slash with one ear before smashing her other into the attacker’s face. It was sent flying, right into Riolu’s open palm.

BOOM!

The white blur rocketed backwards, crashing through the underbrush with a thundering impact. Trees shook, leaves raining down as branches snapped from the sheer force of the blow.

 “Welcome back to the real world, princess. Maybe don’t zone out while we’re walking through hostile territory next time, yeah?” Myst said, his shoulders tense as he scanned the clearing.

Dozens of white figures slowly made their appearance known, all of them having gotten there without making a sound.

“I thought the local Vigoroth population was near the border of the forest,” Cynthia whispered, releasing Queenie, who appeared with a roar.

Myst’s lips curled into a wry smile. “You thought there was just one tribe?”

“Point, you think we can run?” Cynthia asked, moving her hair out of her eyes.

“I mean we definitely can, the river is right there you know?”

She glanced at the river, then at the way it was flowing straight back to where she’d washed up three days ago.

“No.”

Chapter Text

Cynthia used the split second that they hesitated to sweep her eyes over the flock of Vigoroth. Twelve, no, thirteen of them were clearly visible.

All of them looking more than happy for a fight.

“Vigo-!”

One began.

“Vigo-roth!”

Another said.

That was all they needed to gather their courage. Like a switch had been flipped, they surged forward in a chaotic mess.

Cynthia’s heart skipped a beat, but she held her ground, instincts kicking in before fear could take root. When battling a group of Pokémon in the wilderness, there was often no time to formulate a strategy, no chance to plan.

You just had to react.

A lot of trainers couldn’t handle that, unprepared for anything beyond the structured, duel-like battles of the League.

But Cynthia wasn’t most trainers.

And Queenie didn’t need direction.

With a growl, she lunged forward, blue flames licking at her maw as she aimed to draw as much attention as possible, freeing Cynthia to focus on the most important parts of the battle. Usually, that would have meant coordinating Riolu and Queenie to defend herself while counterattacking.

Right now?

Cynthia needed to have Myst focus on defending himself so she could take care of the horde.

“Have Rei def-” Cynthia started.

“Quick Attack!” Myst’s voice cut her off.

To Rei’s credit, she didn’t hesitate.

Cynthia just wished she would have.

Rei vanished in a flash of white and by the time her eyes caught up the Vigoroth was already gone. She had moved across the entire field in a split second and slammed feet first into the Vigoroth at the front of the pack, sending it flying.

Cynthia’s eyes widened.

Fast.

No.

Insanely fast.

Still, that kind of speed came at a cost.

Rei’s attack might have taken out the first one, but where one fell two more appeared in its place. Their eyes shone with glee as they reached for the bunny, claws alit with Normal type energy.

Cynthia’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Then, like she had given up, Rei’s large eyes widened, shimmering with unspoken tears. Her entire demeanour shifted, becoming small and helpless, like a baby Pokémon facing down predators.

The Vigoroth hesitated. Their ferocious faces softened, confusion flickering in their eyes for a split second.

It cost them.

Rei’s expression changed in an instant, flipping from victim to predator. The pitiful look vanished, replaced by a menacing grin.

Her ears flared with a vivid reddish-orange glow.

Double Kick.

With movements too swift to follow, she parried both attacks, her ears striking their claws with a sharp crack.

Then, using the momentum, she spun backwards, bouncing out of their reach while rubbing some salt in their wound by the way of her waving paw.

Both of them screamed in rage, but before they could even think about chasing her Queenie’s Dragon Rage arrived.

They both screamed in pain as the Dragon Type energy ate away at their Aura.

Cynthia exhaled, a smile tugging at her lips.

Just for that smile to be wiped off her face as a Vigoroth escaped Rei and Queenie, rushing straight toward her.

“Low Kick!”

Riolu snatched its legs out from under it, sending it crashing face-first into the ground. Then, before it could gather itself, Riolu reacted like she had taught him… by immediately smashing a Force Palm into the Vigoroth’s back, drawing a pained shout.

Before he could finish it off, though, he vanished, reappearing in front of Myst to block another Vigoroth from jumping him.

How did we get this far apart?, Cynthia wondered, suddenly noticing the considerable distance between them.

Though, before she could process what that meant, she heard Queenie let out a pained groan, and her focus snapped back into the fight.

“Slash around yourself to make some space!” She yelled.

…

Cynthia wanted to say she managed to keep the chaos contained, that the battle didn’t devolve into a free-for-all where Riolu had to throw himself in front of wildly charging Vigoroth to defend her and Myst.

Unfortunately, that would be a lie.

It wasn’t even really anybody’s fault.

Everybody was fighting in the best way they knew, the way they had been trained to do.

Rei continued to use hit and run tactics, picking away at the Vigoroth who were isolated or distracted             

Riolu fought with the virtue of pure technical skill, using every trick in the book.

Queenie?

She overwhelmed her opponents with sheer power. Standing in the middle of the fray, she shrugged off every Slash thrown at her, retaliating with Dragon Rage or brutal Slashes of her own.

They were all doing their best.

It was just unfortunate that their training didn’t include fighting with another trainer.

Cynthia gritted her teeth.

It was an annoying thing to realize, that while she had trained to fight free-for-all’s, she hadn’t trained her Pokémon to do so with an unstable element.

In her ideal world, Queenie would be the spearhead, engaging the horde head-on, while Rei and Riolu kept the rest off their backs. Then they’d close the distance to present a single unified target, allowing Queenie to defend them while Rei and Riolu went on the attack. It was just a better use of resources, with neither of the smaller Pokémon being suited for defense.

Unfortunately, she had no time to communicate any of this, and so Myst had sent Rei on the attack as well.

Which left Riolu alone to pick up the slack.

Panting with effort, Riolu darted across the battlefield, using Quick Attack for all it was worth. He weaved through the chaos, striking with pinpoint accuracy to defend Myst while also defending Cynthia. His movements were precise, every step calculated, but it was wearing on him.

Cynthia’s heart twisted as she watched him appear in front of Myst, his two short arms barely deflecting a Slash from a Vigoroth with a burst of effort.

“Argh!” A low groan came from Queenie, and Cynthia snapped her head that way.

‘This was getting out of hand.’

Queenie grunted as another Slash hit her fin, and three Vigoroth slipped past her without her noticing.

We’re winning, but too slowly, Cynthia thought.

“Queenie, left! Dragon Rage!” She commanded.

“Help her out!” Myst voice rang out at the same time.

‘Wait what.’

Cynthia barely had time to raise a hand before Rei blurred forward, smashing into and then through a Vigorth, just as Queenie’s Dragon Rage tore through the space it had occupied moments before.

Her speed had carried her out of the way, but that had been close.

Lucky... too lucky, Cynthia thought, gritting her teeth.

This was getting out of control, they would win, but they had to win cleanly. And that?

That was something she could see it slipping through her fingers. Even worse, she knew why. She wasn’t adapting fast enough. She was too used to leading alone, too rigid in her strategies. It wasn’t Rei or Riolu’s fault.

It wasn’t even Myst’s.

It was hers.

‘You’re better than this,’ she berated herself, eyes darting between the chaos. ‘You’re supposed to be better than this.’ Cynthia had always prided herself as an exceptional battler. That was the part that had come natural to her.

So, it felt grating to realize that she should have really tried out some doubles.

Even so…

‘Focus. Adapt. Move.’

She couldn’t just hesitate, something needed to be done and soon.

So, Cynthia started thinking.

What was the main problem?

She wasn’t close enough to Myst.

What was the solution?

Get closer.

Easier said than done of course. In the chaos, they had moved further apart. From an initial three meters, they were now closer to six... but six meters was something she could close in seconds.

Cynthia looked around the battlefield, gauging how viable the plan was.

At any given moment, at least six Vigoroth surrounded Queenie, while four others either attacked her and Myst or were distracted by Rei. If Queenie could hold off just one of those attacking her and Myst, Rei and Riolu could handle the rest.

Which made it doable.

She could make it.

“Queenie, Dragon Rage! Rei, Riolu, cover me!” she shouted.

Then she took off.

It took one moment before anybody reacted to her moving.

It took two before she regretted her actions.

She thought the Vigoroth were focused on them before, but as soon as she moved, it was like she became a beacon.

She didn’t attract four.

She didn’t attract five.

All of them turned toward her like sharks sensing blood.

It was honestly probably disobedience that saved her.

Queenie reacted not with Dragon Rage, she instead used the sudden lapse of attention from her opponents to charge up her strongest attack. Blue-purple energy exploded from her talons, forming swordlike claws.

Dragon Claw

Then she instantly smashed them into two of the Vigoroth closest to her.

Eight still got through.

Five meters.

Rei appeared between two of them, an Ice Punch on each ear freezing two of them to the ground.

Six left.

Four meters.

Riolu struck with Force Palm, then spun to sweep another off its feet.

Four left.

Three meters.

Queenie unleashed a fully charged Dragon Rage, having it curving around her teammates like a snake.

Two left.

Two meters.

Cynthia threw herself to the side as a Slash flew past, barely avoiding it. She hit the ground hard.

One left.

One meter left.

The last Vigoroth reached for her with glowing white claws.

‘What a stupid fucking idea this was.’

She closed her eyes, bracing for pain.

An arm wrapped around her, jerking her back. A grunt rang out, then something warm and wet splattered against her face.

Blood.

She hadn’t panicked before.

Never.

Not when she got lost in the caves outside of Celestic at six years old.

Not when she got outed as the granddaughter of Professor Carolina at her first gym battle and had every battler there make backhanded comments about her.

Not even when she was chased by a swarm of Dustox large enough to blanket the sky and forced to dive into the river for cover.

But when she opened her eyes and saw Myst’s body collapse onto her-

She almost screamed.

The Vigoroth let out a victorious roar, but Rei slammed into it before it could attack again. Her adorable, menacing charm was gone, replaced by a frantic, vicious fury.

“Bun... buneary?” Rei’s voice cracked, eyes wide and lost as she looked at her trainer.

That did it.

Cynthia felt herself panic.

“MYST!”

She scrambled out from under him as he collapsed to the ground without a sound. Her eyes locked on the wound almost immediately, a deep gash running down his right arm.

For a second, she just stared, watching the blood drip steadily from it.

Blood.

Too much of it. Too red. Too real.

Her mind went blank. She knew, in a distant, detached way, that people got hurt in the wilderness.

She’d known it happened.

She just hadn’t known.

The blood dripped steadily, staining the grass beneath him. The soft patter snapped her out of her trance.

Suddenly, everything was painfully clear.

There was no time for panic. She had to move.

“Rei,” she called, her voice low but steady, sounding almost foreign to herself. “Take care of the rest.” She threw her backpack off her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. “I’ve got him. He’ll be fine.”

Rei hesitated, eyes flicking between Myst and the circling Vigoroth. Cynthia forced herself to smile, even as her hands shook.

“It’ll be fine. Promise.” She whispered.

That did it.

Rei’s eyes hardened with resolve. She spun around and launched herself at the Vigoroth, a white blur of speed and vengeance.

Cynthia’s hands fumbled as she tore through her backpack, spilling its contents. Clothes, food, useless, all of it. Then, finally, a pink box tumbled out, a cartoon Chansey smiling up from the lid.

She hadn’t wanted to pack it. It was embarrassing. But her grandmother’s lectures about being prepared had worn her down.

Now, she could have kissed her grandmother for being so stubborn.

Inside, bandages and ointments lay neatly organized, but they wouldn’t be enough. Not for this.

Her eyes locked on the real treasure inside. A dark red vial nestled in the corner, its glass shimmering with faint energy.

Not a potion. Something far rarer.

An emergency Aura booster. A Heal Pulse in a bottle.

Her grandmother had called it a miracle in a can, capable of supercharging a humans Aura to heal even life-threatening wounds. Cynthia had scoffed at the cost, thinking it was overkill.

She wasn’t laughing now.

She yanked off the cap, revealing the nozzle, and aimed it at his arm. She pressed down.

Nothing happened.

Her heart skipped. She pressed again. Harder.

Still nothing.

Panic surged, cold and sharp. Her vision blurred as she pressed it again and again, praying for something to change.

It didn’t.

“You... need to twist the cap,” Myst’s voice croaked.

Her head snapped up, eyes widening. “You’re awake?” Relief flooded her so hard her vision blurred. She quickly wiped her eyes, not wanting him to see her cry. “You... you idiot. Don’t scare me like that.”

His lips twitched, a shadow of his usual grin. “Just... took a nap.” His voice was weak, hoarse, but his eyes flicked down to the bottle still clutched in her trembling hands. “But yeah, I think you need to twist it.”

She looked down, spotting the twist-lock mechanism. Of course, she knew that... Hands were still shaking, she managed to turn the tip, hearing a faint click as it unlocked.

She didn’t hesitate. Aiming at his arm, she pressed, and a surge of liquid sprayed out. It sank into his wound, glowing faintly as the torn flesh knitted itself together.

Myst’s body went rigid, his face contorting with pain.

“You... couldn’t have warned me... it’d burn?” he grunted, clenching his jaw.

Cynthia’s shoulders sagged, tension draining from her body all at once. She let out a weak, shaky laugh. “You... idiot. I thought you were going to die there for a second, and you’re complaining about the pain?”

His eyes fluttered open, just barely, a flicker of his usual mischief sparking to life. “I... don’t do dying... too much effort.”

A sob choked out of her, half a laugh, half a cry.

…

As they stumbled into the cave, Cynthia barely had time to catch her breath before Myst all but collapsed onto the floor.

He’d looked tired before, but now?

His face was ashen, dark circles shadowing his eyes. His arm was bound tight, the makeshift bandage keeping pressure off his arm. She thought back to the Aura booster and grimaced.

There was a reason people didn’t simply boost their Aura. The rebound was brutal, leaving them more exhausted than before. If he looked this bad now...

Her heart sank. This would definitely put a chink in their plan of getting out in under a week.

Not that it was his fault.

Even now, she felt her throat lock up as her mind replayed the battle in vivid, agonizing detail. Too many mistakes to count.

Not planning ahead on how to handle encounters.

Not asking how he usually fought with Rei.

Not noticing they were getting split up until it was too late.

She’d always been confident in her battling, in her strategies. She was supposed to be good at this. But today...

Today she realized she had a lot to learn.

“How did that medicine even work?” Myst’s voice cut through her thoughts, startling her.

She looked up to find him leaning against the wall, a casual smile plastered on his face. It was painfully obvious.

He was trying to distract her.

She almost rolled her eyes. And he said her acting was bad.

Even so, she answered, “It boosts your Aura, giving you similar healing to a Pokémon using Recover or getting a Pokémon to use Heal Pulse on you.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. Then he hesitated, his brow furrowing. “And... what is Aura? Like... Aura, as in Aura Guardians?”

Under normal circumstances, Cynthia would have jumped on that. What kind of question was that? Seriously, who didn’t know what Aura was? It was only the single most fundamental reason why Pokémon biology and battling worked the way they did.

As the situation stood?

“I suppose Aura Guardians are the most famous users of Aura among humans, but Aura is a lot more important to Pokémon...” She trailed off, unsure if she was just repeating something he already knew.

He waved her on, eyes fixed on her with genuine curiosity.

She let out a sigh, picking up Rei from the ground. The little rabbit didn’t even protest, instead curling into her, letting her ears rest under Cynthia’s chin.

“What do you know about Aura?” she asked softly.

Myst’s eyes went distant, his expression tightening. “I want to say nothing, but... I have a feeling that would be the wrong answer.”

She softened. “I get it. Amnesia.” She hugged Rei a little tighter. “But yeah, you’re right. You should know. Have you noticed that when Pokémon fight, they only rarely end up seriously hurt?”

“Yeah... I guess?” His gaze grew distant, exhaustion evident, but he was clearly trying to follow along.

“Well, it’s mostly because of Aura. Pokémon have a thin... I guess shield is the best way to describe it, but that’s not quite right since they do still get hurt. Just think of it like a protective layer. When they take damage, that shield absorbs the impact, and when it breaks, that’s usually when a Pokémon faints.”

Myst’s eyes widened, understanding dawning on his face. “So... that’s why they can take so many hits. It’s not just toughness or endurance.”

“Exactly,” Cynthia said, not really surprised at how quickly he caught on. “It’s why moves look so flashy but don’t leave... well... permanent scars. Aura protects them. But once that’s depleted...” She glanced at his arm, her stomach twisting. “It’s dangerous.”

He followed her gaze, then looked away. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “And that... booster... it used Aura to heal me?”

She nodded. “Well, it supercharged your Aura, letting your body repair itself. But it’s not perfect. It drains you, hard. That’s why you feel so awful.”

His lips curled into a weak smile. “Yeah... no kidding.” For a moment, silence settled between them, the weight of everything that happened lingering.

Then, Myst’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Cynthia. You... saved me.”

She looked away, her chest tightening. “Yeah... well... next time, I won’t mess up so badly.”

Myst blinked, confusion flickering across his face. But before he could question her, Cynthia buried her face in Rei’s fur, her voice muffled.

“Just... get some rest, idiot.”

Chapter Text

Cynthia awoke to things going from bad to worse. She didn’t notice at first, exhaustion pinning her down like a Snorlax using Rest. But when she cracked open her eyes, she saw the problem immediately.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Cynthia froze, her eyes locking onto his form, not quite believing what she was seeing.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

She shot up, her mind racing, desperately trying to figure out if there was some way to salvage the situation.

“Myst!”

His head snapped toward her, eyes unfocused and dazed, like he couldn’t quite comprehend anything. He shifted slightly and something rustled.

Cynthia’s heart sank before her gaze even reached his hand.

It was too late.

There was nothing to salvage, that much was obvious at first glance.

Myst blinked, forcing himself to focus. As he took in her horrified expression, he slowly realized she was, in fact, awake and aware. That she saw what had happened, and that there was no avoiding or hiding it.

“Cynthia, I...” He trailed off, looking down at his arm.

Cynthia stared at him, feeling her stomach sink.

“You didn’t.” She said simply.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t know what to feel. Then, slowly, she let her eyes drop again, daring to face the truth.

In his hand, hanging limply, was a small blue bag decorated with golden lightning symbols.

The bold letters were obscured, but she didn’t need to read them.

She knew what they said.

Mareeps: Electrically Delicious, Shockingly Nutritious.

Myst looked up at her, then slowly opened his mouth. “Would you believe me if I said Rei ate them?”

Cynthia’s gaze flicked to her side, where the Rabbit Pokémon was still sleeping peacefully.

Her eyes returned to Myst.

She smiled at him.

He smiled back.

It was a truly crooked thing.

…..

Cynthia had honestly gone easy on him.

Really.

If anybody else had pulled that kind of stunt, eating her emergency candy like that… she wasn’t sure what she would have done, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.

But he was lucky.

And she still felt a little bad for him, so she let it go.

She would remember this, of course. Take it to heart that he knew where the hidden compartment was. Clearly, it wasn’t hidden enough. She’d need to get a special one designed for her bag.

In fact, that would be the first thing she did when they got back to the city. Find a tailor who could add a secret pocket, one that was actually secret. It would be useful for other things, too. Like if she needed to hide something somewhere less obvious than inside the waterproof compartment.

The fact that it would also hide the candy was just a convenient bonus.

Honestly.

“Cynthia, why are you smiling like you’re planning my murder?” Myst asked, sounding genuinely perturbed.

She froze, instantly letting her smile disappear.

“My smile is not creepy. It’s a very normal and beautiful smile for a young lady,” she stated.

Myst’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, because somebody with a normal smile would definitely answer like that.”

Beside him, Queenie let out a chuckle, followed by a rumble of agreement.

Cynthia shot her oldest companion a betrayed look, but all she got was a flat one in return. They didn’t need to communicate through words, she still understood what her Gabite meant.

Why are you looking at me? He is right.

Instead of fighting a losing battle, she turned around, glancing over to the entrance. The sky was covered with dark clouds and even without knowing much about that kind of stuff Cynthia could tell that the rain about to fall wasn’t going to be just a light drizzle.

Honestly the entire situation wasn’t worth getting mad at about, after all, she didn’t really care.

Cynthia managed to convince herself of that for exactly ten seconds.

“You know, for somebody who would steal my candy, you seem awfully high on your own horse, Myst,” She said quietly.

The words still carried more than well enough in the quiet morning.

Myst cringed at her words. “I thought we were over that. Didn’t I sort of save your life, like, yesterday? I feel like that should give me some credit here.” He crossed his arms, his voice growing more confident. “Really, I feel like I deserve a reward.”

Reward.

He deserved a reward.

Cynthia spun around, feeling anger flare as she looked at his stupid face growing surprised.

He had deserved a reward, that was something she would readily agree to.

In fact, she had already thought about that yesterday.

“You did deserve a reward, but maybe I wanted to give it to you today? After all, you were exhausted yesterday, so I didn’t think you would be in any state to enjoy it. Then I awoke and saw…” She clenched her fist.

It was stupid to feel angry about it when she had already decided to give him her last candy.

Really, he had just taken something that was already his.

She still felt acutely robbed of something.

“Oh.” He said simply, glancing down at the blue bag that now lay discarded on the cave floor. His shoulders slumped as the reality of the situation sank in.

“Oh,” he mumbled again, his voice smaller this time. His eyes dropped, refusing to meet hers. His face flushed with embarrassment, a faint pink tinge spreading across his cheeks.

An awkward silence filled the cave, heavy and suffocating. It was the kind of quiet that felt too loud, amplifying every rustle of the wind and every drop of rain outside.

Cynthia crossed her arms under her chest, her fingers digging into her sleeves as she took a slow, measured breath. She forced herself to look away, fixing her gaze on the cave entrance.

Rain poured down in thick sheets, the sound a steady, unrelenting drumbeat against the earth. The forest beyond was a hazy blur, distorted by the downpour. Even if they wanted to leave, it would be impossible to get anywhere in this weather.

They were stuck here, with nothing to do but wait. And wait. And wait.

Her eyes flicked back to Myst, who was still standing there, shoulders hunched, face turned downwards. Even now, he looked better than he had yesterday. His colour had returned, and his injury had closed, but she knew his limits.

She’d seen his stamina, or lack thereof.

Even before the Aura booster had closed his wounds, his endurance hadn’t been anything to brag about. And after using it? He was running on borrowed energy. Even if he tried to push himself, they wouldn’t get far before he collapsed.

No, traveling today wasn’t an option. Not with him in that state.

Which meant they were stuck here.

As she stared out into the rain, she slowly realized something.

This place…

It couldn’t have been too far from where she had found those carvings.

The memory sent a thrill through her, excitement bubbling up and washing away some of her irritation. A plan started to form as she focused on the steady drumming of the rain. With Riolu, she could try to find a trace of her old Aura, and following that would lead them straight back to the cave.

She’d even have an easy way back, the Aura trail would be fresh.

Honestly, maybe this day was off to a good start after all!

She glanced at the pack of candy. Its emptiness hitting like a shock to the system.

Or maybe not.

She hadn’t lied; she had meant to give him some candy as a reward.

But like…

Maybe one or two pieces.

Maybe.

“Honestly, boys.” She mumbled under her breath.

………..

She did get her wish.

Sort of anyway.

She’d been right about the caves being nearby, which was great. She’d just been wrong about being able to leave Myst behind while she went exploring. That part had been pure wishful thinking.

And, annoyingly, it wasn’t even his fault. He’d actually made a good point.

If they were this close to the caves, then they were also close to the Dustox hive. Which meant that if either of them got spotted, they’d have to run. Fast. And since they had no way to communicate from a distance, splitting up was just asking for trouble.

She hated that he was right.

She hated it even more that he looked so smug about it, leaning against the tree like he wasn’t still recovering from almost dying yesterday. Arms outstretched, head held high, looking for all the world like he was perfectly fine.

His eyes flickered to her face, and he shot her a smile.

She turned away, huffing.

Honestly, couldn’t he have felt bad for a little longer?

Luckily, his smugness didn’t last. The moment he opened his mouth, his bravado shattered. “Really... can’t we...” he wheezed, “move a little... slower?” He was practically gasping between every other word.

Cynthia pursed her lips. “We need to get to the cave first. If we get spotted out here, we’ll have to run, and I don’t think you’d enjoy being carried by Queenie as much as you think,” she said, her fingers brushing the Poké Ball at her side.

She normally preferred to have Queenie walk beside her, but navigating the dense forest while avoiding anything that even looked like a Wurmple required a bit more subtlety. And a Gabite was anything but subtle. Between her size, her claws, and, most importantly, that unmistakable dragon aura, Queenie stood out like a Gyarados in a kiddie pool.

For now, keeping her in her Poké Ball was the safer option. At least until they made it to the cave.

Riolu yipped.

Cynthia tensed instantly, only for him to wave his paw.

Not enemies.

“Riolu.” He waved in a general direction, and Cynthia smiled as she understood what he meant.

He had found a trace of their old aura, which meant he could lead them right to the cave.

“I guess he found your tracks,” Myst muttered, pushing himself off the tree.

They did not end up moving slower, instead they sped up and by the time they neared the cave, Myst was already dead tired again, more or less dragging himself forward by grabbing at branches.

She ignored him, mind focused on only one thing.

“You’re about to see something incredible,” Cynthia said proudly, her heart racing at the thought of dating the carvings.

Were they from the times of Hisui?

Or even older?

“Well, I sure hope so, considering how cagey you’ve been about why exactly we needed to get to that cave,” Myst between pants, his exhaustion breaking through his usual sarcasm. He hesitated before muttering under his breath, “Really, I don’t get what I’m supposed to have missed. This is pretty much where I woke up when I got here.”

Cynthia didn’t bother responding, already moving ahead with a spring in her step. She hadn’t expected to feel this excited, but anticipation buzzed through her veins. Most people didn’t share her enthusiasm for ancient carvings and old legends. Some even thought it was silly to dig into the past like this.

Not that she thought Myst would outright mock her but expecting him to share her excitement was probably asking too much.

When they finally spotted the cave opening, she didn’t slow down, instead she rushed inside without a second thought.

As she stepped into the cave, her eyes locked onto them immediately.

There weren’t many carvings, and she’d completely missed them when she first stumbled in here. But now, with the light cracking through the clouds and filtering through the entrance, they were unmistakable.

It was unlike most other cave carvings she had seen. They didn’t feature humans or basic Pokémon, but at the same time it was unmistakable that they were from humans.

Because while she couldn’t read them, the stuff on the wall was unmistakably words.

Sentences scratched into the wall, complete with a small rudimentary map in the corner and some kind of counting system. She moved closer, fingers brushing over the carvings.

Then froze.

They felt…

New.

She’d visited many ancient sites before, touched carvings that were rough and weathered, worn down by time. The lines had always been uneven, softened by erosion.

These?

“Ehm, Cynthia?” Myst’s voice rang out from behind her.

She narrowed her eyes, noticing details she hadn’t seen before. Last time she was here, she’d been too focused on snapping pictures, too careful to touch anything. Then she’d gotten distracted by an adorable Wurmple outside, only to be chased off before getting a proper look.

Now?

She could tell there was no way these carvings were ancient. A few years old, at most.

Her hands trembled, a surge of raw emotion flooding through her. She didn’t usually get angry, but right now?

After everything today?

A dark laugh escaped her, sharp and humourless. She barely noticed Riolu and Myst taking a cautious step back.

“When I find the one who dared deface this…” Her lips curled into a vicious smile. “I will-”

Myst let out a nervous chuckle, cutting her off. “So… this was what you wanted to show me?”

Cynthia’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. If he dared to so much as smirk…

But he didn’t. He just watched her, waiting patiently for an answer.

She gritted her teeth, unsure if she wanted him to speak up and say something stupid just so she’d have an excuse to yell.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice tense, “but that was before I realized they were freshly made. I didn’t have time to inspect them last time, and I stupidly assumed no one would be idiotic enough to deface the heart of Eterna Forest like this.” Her fingers curled into fists. “When I get back, the first thing I’m doing is reporting this to the Rangers. They’ll sic their best psychometry specialist on this and find the one responsible.”

Myst looked at her, then back at the carvings.

“Maybe they just didn’t know, I mean they don’t even look that bad do they?”

“They’re vandalism,” Cynthia snapped, her frustration bleeding into her words. “Someone thought it was funny to deface a Pokémon sanctuary, and they’re going to pay for it.” She forced herself to take a deep breath, her anger simmering.

She didn’t notice Riolu throwing a worried look towards Myst, raising his paws like in prayer.

……

Cynthia cradled her knees to her chest, her face buried against her kneecaps as she stared into the ground.

Today had been terrible.

Yesterday had been horrific.

Really, most of the week had just been a disaster.

And to think people saw her as one of the most anticipated trainers of the gym challenge circuit. What a joke. Thinking she was going to do well just because she had done well in her first gym battle?

They should see her now.

Lost on a simple trip between two close cities.

Unable to handle a battle against a bunch of wild Pokémon, with an honest-to-God amnesiac having to save her.

And to top it all off, she hadn’t even been able to tell the carvings were recently made. She’d gotten excited over fakes.

Obvious fakes.

What a joke.

“Cynthia,” Myst’s voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the rain outside.

She didn’t respond. Didn’t feel like hearing any of his jokes right now.

“Cynthia,” he tried again, a little louder this time.

Honestly.

She snapped her head up, glaring at him. He was standing now, making his way across the cave. “What?” she spat, anger lacing her voice. “You want to laugh at me?”

He froze mid-step, his face falling. Cynthia felt a pang of regret, but before she could take the words back, Myst spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? That candy was yours anyway.” She mumbled, her head sinking down into her knees again.

“Not really. Just because you intended to give it to me doesn’t mean I had the right to eat it before that.” He paused, his grin growing rueful before continuing. “Honestly, I don’t have an excuse for why I did it, or at least, not one that doesn’t make me sound seven. They just spoke to me, like some kind of dark lord trying to brainwash a young hero.”

Cynthia’s lips twitched, the corner of her mouth threatening to curl upward. “You thought they looked that good?” she asked, her voice muffled by her knees.

Myst’s face grew mock-serious. “I have never felt so weak in my life.”

Cynthia looked up again and almost jumped when she realized how close he was. Then he sat down beside her, his thin arm just inches from hers. Glancing sideways, she noticed his expression had shifted, no longer playful, just serious.

“But it was still wrong of me,” he said, his voice soft, genuine. “So... I apologize for stealing them.”

She stared into his eyes, usually half-hidden by his long, rakish hair, and suddenly noticed just how blue they were. Not the muddy, dull blue she was used to seeing on people. Myst’s eyes were a sharp, clear sky-blue, almost unnatural in their vibrancy.

They were beautiful.

Cynthia felt her face heat up, her heart skipping a beat at how close his face was. She quickly scooted away, putting some distance between them.

“It’s fine. To be honest...” She hesitated, flicking her gaze toward him before quickly looking away, her hair falling like a curtain to hide her face. “To be honest, I hadn’t even decided to give you the candy. And even if I did, I probably would’ve just given you a piece or two.”

Myst leaned forward, his eyebrows raised. “So you just wanted me to feel bad?”

Cynthia nodded, feeling her face flush even hotter. “Yeah... a little.”

He blinked, then let out a laugh. “Well, mission accomplished.”

Cynthia glared at him playfully. He mimed getting shot, like her gaze hurt him, and she broke.

She laughed.

“You are so stupid. Honestly, can’t you stay serious for two seconds, Myst?” she said, barely managing to form the whole sentence between her peals of laughter.

“I mean, would that be any fun? Really, you’re lucky. If you’d met me a couple of months earlier, you would’ve seen how little fun I am as a gloomy bastard.” He grinned.

Cynthia shook her head. After knowing him for merely three days, it was almost annoying how on-brand he was. She couldn’t even imagine he was ever gloomy.

“I can’t even imagine.” She said, shaking her head.

A brief silence settled over them, but before it could grow awkward Myst spoke up again.

“Where did Myst come from?” He asked, casually watching Rei command Riolu to get her another piece of Oran Berry.

Cynthia felt her cheeks colour at the question but still threw him a look. “Hey, you’re the one without a name. I needed something to call you by. Honestly, don’t you think that in the middle of battle, Mr. I’ll-Come-Back-You is a little too long?”

"Touche, but why Myst and not something more describing, like Boss or, actually, this one actually really fits," he paused, waiting for her face to grow flat, before finishing proudly "Lord!" 

“Lout and Buffoon? You’re right, those do sound a lot better than Myst.” Cynthia grinned, her earlier embarrassment fading as she watched him feign a wounded look. “No, but honestly, it was just natural progression. I kept calling you Mystery in my mind, so that became Myst, I guess.”

“So you’re saying my nickname could have been Mystery, but instead I got it shortened to Myst?” He asked with a dramatic gasp.

Cynthia rolled her eyes.

Honestly, she had always wondered why people went on journeys with others.

It seemed like such a hassle.

They got in the way when you battled.

They ate your candy without asking.

They watched you embarrass yourself thinking you found a major archaeological find, only to realize you found the equivalent of somebody tagging.

It seemed stupid.

But honestly?

It was probably for moments like these.

“How do you feel about Lord of Mystery? I think that sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

Cynthia had to admit it to herself.

Getting out of here was going to take more time than she anticipated. On her own, maybe she could have gotten out in a couple of days, but with Myst along for the ride? It was probably going to be closer to a week, and even that might be optimistic.

He was simply too weak.

Even before his wound and the subsequent use of the Aura booster, he had been struggling, pushing himself to keep up. Now, after all of that had gone down? Even after spending almost the entirety of yesterday resting, he was still not back in the shape he had been.

And that shape hadn’t been very good to begin with. Honestly, it made Cynthia realize how weakened he was from the lack of proper food. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen how thin he was, but she had imagined his build had contained some wiry strength considering he had survived out here on his own.

Now she realized that was more than optimistic.

“Sorry,” Myst said, finally catching his breath from the log he was sitting on. He gave her a smile, but one that hid a bone-deep exhaustion. “I think all that candy got to me. I guess this is why my mom always said to limit my sugar intake.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes at his joke, honestly, he could not stay serious. Still… she didn’t miss the way he hid his arm, holding a hand over it, forcing it to not shake.

“We are setting up camp.” She said simply.

Myst opened his mouth, like he was about to disagree, but she glared at him. Rei let out a cry of agreement, with Riolu rapidly backing her up.

Three against one. His mouth shut with a clank, and he shrugged, like he was saying fine, but I don’t need it.

Of course, it wasn’t like they could just set up camp here, that would be stupid. They needed to find someplace a little bit more suited than the middle of an open clearing.

Cynthia glanced towards the higher trees in the distance, with one in particular seemingly towering over the others.

Not the largest she had seen in the forest, but it was large enough that they could sleep there, the branches and leaves hiding them from any unwanted rain.

And more importantly?

With the tree against their backs, they would only have to defend a single angle of attack, making an eventual fight much easier without having to worry about getting stabbed in the back.

As long as they weren’t completely surrounded, of course, but Cynthia couldn’t imagine a group of Pokémon being coordinated enough to do that... she felt a shiver travel up her spine, as she cast a glance behind her, where a couple of hours away lay the caves they had rested in yesterday.

The caves, but also the Dustox swarm.

It was fine, they were more than far enough away...

At least, she hoped so.

…..

To be honest, Cynthia wasn’t quite ready when Myst asked her to battle.

Maybe she should have been. After all, there wasn’t much else to do, not after Rei had managed to pacify the local group of Starly and Staravia just by showing her face.

It was almost funny. Cynthia had tried a dozen tricks to bargain with the birds to let them rest under their tree, from offering food to suggesting training sessions. Yet in the end, just before she was ready to simply challenge the bird for the right, Rei had walked forward.

And managed to convince the flock with two words

When she demanded an explanation, Myst burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Oh, didn’t I mention? Rei’s basically half-royalty around here. Mommy Lopunny is more or less the strongest thing in the forest after all.”

After everything she’d tried, the solution was just... Rei.

She retaliated by pretending Myst didn’t exist for the next few hours. It was surprisingly satisfying watching him squirm.

Honestly, he could be so immature.

Either way, after the first hour of not being able to talk to her he had given up and challenged her to a battle.

Which led to this entire situation.

“Double kick!” Myst called out.

Rei’s ears glowed as she swung one forward.

“Feel her out!” Cynthia ordered.

Riolu’s eyes flashed blue, his body curving unnaturally, Detect guiding him to dodge with precision. It was eerie how his form bent, flowing around the strike before spinning low, his foot sweeping towards Rei’s.

Rei hopped lightly, avoiding the Low Kick, her other ear flaring with power as she followed through with the second hit.

This time, Riolu didn’t dodge. He countered with a Force Palm, his paw glowing as the air rippled. Energy exploded between them, forcing both Pokémon back.

Cynthia’s felt some reluctant admiration as Rei forced Riolu to confront her directly.

She wouldn’t lie, after noticing all the gaps in Myst’s knowledge, she had assumed he wasn’t much of a trainer. Sure, he had managed to teach Rei the elemental punches, but she had rationalized that was probably just the whole… Egg Move thing.

Even watching Rei battle the group of Vigoroth, hadn’t really changed her mind, she had chalked that up to Rei’s raw talent. The little rabbit’s tactics had been simple, the kind that a smart Pokémon might develop on its own.

After all, how good could someone who didn’t even know about Aura be?

Riolu charged, faking another Force Palm before twisting into a Feint.

Watching this?

Rei didn’t bother dodging. She tanked the hit, retaliating with a Pound that sent Riolu stumbling.

It was obvious that wasn’t the case.

Riolu dropped low, his leg igniting with energy as he swept out with another Low Sweep.

This time, Rei was caught off guard. She tried to jump, but Riolu's kick struck before she could react, sweeping her legs out from under her and sending her soaring.

Riolu sprang after her, a paw glowing with a fully charged Force Palm aimed right at her midsection. But the moment it took to recover from his Low Sweep was a moment too much.

Just as Force Palm connected, Rei's form erupted into a glowing white sphere.

Riolu's strike hit the orb dead-on, spiking it toward the ground.

That should have been the end of it. The impact alone should have knocked her out cold.

But instead of crashing, Rei bounced.

In an instant, her glowing form blurred as she shot back up, appearing right in front of Riolu's face. The light faded just as she snapped into a spin—one ear already glowing with ice-cold energy.

Riolu barely had time to cross his arms before Ice Punch slammed into him, launching him backward.

Cynthia’s eyes narrowed.

Rei charged forward, leaping as her leg flared with energy, Double Kick primed and aimed straight for Riolu’s chest.

Riolu barely managed to steady himself in time. His body tilted at an impossible angle, Detect guiding him just enough to slip past the incoming strike.

But Double Kick had two parts.

As Rei flew past, her ear came whipping around, glowing with the same fighting energy. Riolu threw up his arms to block, but the force behind the strike was too much. The impact sent him hurtling backward, slamming into the ground hard enough to leave an indent.

No, there was simply no way this was natural talent.

Coordinating both ear and foot in a Double Kick combo wasn’t something a Pokémon could pick up instinctively. It required control, precision, the kind of skill that only came from dedicated training, like teaching someone to move each hand independently.

Cynthia could admit it, Riolu might be the better technical fighter. But Rei? Rei fought dirty.

Her movements were wild, unpredictable, almost feral. It was like fighting a wild Machamp, not a Buneary.

Four arms, not two.

But that didn’t mean Cynthia intended to lose.

“Turn it technical!” Cynthia called out.

Riolu sprang to his feet and charged straight into Rei. A fully charged Fire Punch tore past his head, missing by inches. He retaliated instantly, Rock Smash, quick and brutal, slamming into Rei’s side.

She grunted, but tanked easily enough, the attack not forming a proper move due to how fast it came out.

In return Rei lashed out with Pound, but Riolu knocked her attack off course with Feint, then slipped past another Double Kick like he saw it coming before she even moved.

For a moment, the battle turned into pure hand-to-hand combat.

And Riolu was simply better.

Even with her two extra limbs, every clash ended the same, Riolu winning the exchange through sheer skill. He read her movements, adapted, and countered with brutal efficiency.

Rei met him again, Fire Punch colliding with Force Palm. The impact burst between them, forcing both Pokémon back.

“Reposition!” Myst called out.

Cynthia quirked a smile, it seemed like he finally realized that going head-on against a Fighting-Type wasn’t the smartest strategy.

Rei’s form glowed white as she activated Quick Attack, vanishing from her spot and leaving an afterimage behind.

Riolu’s Force Palm struck the ground, obliterating the spot where she’d stood a heartbeat ago.

“Use Aura to chase!” Cynthia called out.

Riolu’s eyes narrowed, his body pulsing with a faint glow. A split second later, he disappeared.

Cynthia barely kept up as two white blurs streaked across the battlefield, colliding and rebounding at impossible speeds.

Rei was faster, but Riolu’s aura-sensing ability let him track her movements, predicting her strikes before they landed. He cut off her escape routes, forcing her into direct combat.

Quick Attack might grant almost unmatched raw speed, but its turns were wide, predictable.

Or well, at least they were at their level.

“Rei, you should know the easiest way to handle Riolu by now.” Myst’s voice cut through the air, sounding almost disappointed.

Cynthia blinked. That tone, calm, certain, instructive, was different from how he usually spoke. It caught her off guard for just a moment.

Rei skidded to a stop, eyes narrowing. Then, at the last second, she twisted, her ears flashing forward to intercept Riolu’s Quick Attack with a deceptively simple Pound. The impact rippled through her body, but she absorbed it, refusing to give ground.

It still left Rei wide open, and Riolu wasn’t going to give away the chance. His paw glowed as Force Palm charged in a flash.

And that’s when Cynthia understood.

“Close y-” she started, but it was already too late.

Riolu’s strike came down just as Rei’s eyes widened, glowing bright pink.

Cynthia felt it instantly, like a physical blow to the chest.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Her pupils dilated.

Rei was just... adorable.

Her big eyes shimmered with a soft, vulnerable light. Her tiny body trembled, her ears drooping ever so slightly.

A fragile little thing, needing protecting from everything around her.

Riolu’s arm wavered mid-strike. The glow around his paw flickered as his entire body seized up. His expression softened, his gaze unfocused, pupils blown wide.

His arm dropped slightly.

"Riolu..." He said, voice was barely a whisper, small and uncertain. Like he was asking what he had done wrong.

Charm.

Cynthia gritted her teeth, shoving past the residual haze of the move’s effect.

“Nasty Plot!” she shouted, voice cracking with urgency. “Shake it off!”

But Riolu’s shoulders slumped, his eyes never leaving Rei, looking utterly captivated. Cynthia’s fists tightened.

She hadn’t realized Charm could be this powerful.

Then again… maybe that was the secret. Some moves could influence a Pokémon’s mind, but she’d never considered that their effectiveness might depend on the target’s state of mind.

For Riolu, who clearly had a crush, Charm wasn’t just effective.

It was Super Effective.

Rei’s expression brightened, the feigned vulnerability vanishing. In one swift motion, she pivoted, her ear igniting with Fire Punch.

The blazing strike slammed into Riolu’s face. Fire-Type energy exploded on impact, scorching his Aura and sending him hurtling backward.

He tumbled across the ground before coming to a stop, motionless.

Cynthia was at his side in an instant, kneeling down and pressing a hand to his fur. A relieved sigh escaped her when she felt not a trace of damage, he was fine, just knocked out.

She stroked his fur once before returning him to his Poké Ball. Then, rising to her feet, she turned toward Myst.

Myst was ecstatic.

“Holy shit, you did amazing!” he laughed, grabbing Rei and spinning her around like she was a doll. “I wasn’t sure how well our tactics would work, but that was insane.”

Cynthia sighed but still made her way over. She smiled and held up a hand.

Rei was promptly dropped like a forgotten object as Myst took her hand instead, putting on a serious face. “Good battle.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes, then glanced down at Rei.

She almost cooed as she saw Rei motioning for the same treatment, face serious, one arm raised.

She shook her hand too of course and stood up, taking a moment to replay the fight in her mind. It had gone… not great.

Still, while the loss was bitter, she couldn’t deny she’d learned something. Riolu needed to get better at handling tricks and unorthodox fighting styles.

As for the charm?

Well… some weaknesses might just be unfixable. She had no clue how to train that out of him, not without breaking his heart at least.

With a sigh she turned back to Myst.

“You’re good,” Cynthia admitted. “Better than I expected.”

Myst simply grinned at that, “I honestly thought you would smoke me.”

Cynthia shrugged, and said honestly, “Well, I would if I used Queenie, but that wouldn’t be much fun would it?”

“Touche.” Myst chuckled. “But really, that was close. If Riolu wasn’t so affected by Charm, I’m not sure we would’ve won.” He admitted it easily, without hesitation.

Rei glared at him.

Cynthia giggled, hiding her smile behind a hand. “You shouldn’t say that sort of stuff when Rei is standing right there.”

“Well, she knows I’m right. We got in a lot of good hits, but when Riolu started to close in and stopped trying to play our game, Rei almost couldn’t hit back.” He glanced toward Rei.

The little Buneary simply pouted adorably, her little nose scrunching up, like she was refusing to admit the fact. She smashed her foot threateningly next to Myst, whose face turned into a helpless what do you want me to say?

Feeling a little bad for him, Cynthia crouched down, digging into her pocket and handing the rabbit Pokémon an Oran berry.

“Rei, can you go ask one of the Staravias if there’s any food around here? We might start running low soon.”

Rei shot Cynthia a disdainful glare, like she couldn’t believe she’d even suggest such a thing. Did Cynthia really think she could be bribed that easily?

Then, without a word, she snatched the berry and hopped away.

Cynthia giggled.

Apparently, she could.

When Rei was out of sight, Myst opened his mouth, then hesitated. His eyes lingered on the path Rei had taken, his expression shifting slightly, like he was waiting for something.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “You were going to say something?”

He waited a few more seconds before finally answering, almost in a whisper. “Just wanted to make sure she was out of earshot. Rei has crazy hearing.”

Cynthia blinked, but before she could ask why he felt the need to wait, he continued.

“You were wrong, by the way.” His voice even lower, expression carefully blank.

Cynthia frowned. “Wrong? About what? You wanting to say something?”

Myst shook his head. “No. About me being better than you expected.” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not. The only reason we won? It wasn’t because of my training. Rei’s just that good. When we first met, she only helped me because she thought I could train her. And, well… I kinda bullshitted my way through it just to survive.”

If Cynthia could raise her eyebrows any higher, they’d leave her face entirely. “You mean you didn’t train her to mix up her Double Kick?”

Myst hesitated. “Well, no, I did, but she barely needed he—”

“And you didn’t help her figure out how to get the Elemental Punches down?”

“That’s just because of her eg—”

“And Quick Attack? She just figured out how to use it like that on her own?”

“You don’t get it! I spent months teaching her those things.” He snapped before taking a breath. “And those are things that are supposed to come to her—” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. Most of those moves are supposed to be instinctual.”

Cynthia blinked at that, what was he talking about?

Sure, a Buneary might pick up Quick Attack quickly, but controlling it mid-use? Making slow turns at that speed? That was advanced. Most trainers didn’t have Pokémon that could do that before the later stages of their Gym Challenge.

And the way she split up Double Kick between an ear and a foot? Cynthia had only seen that kind of coordination on TV, during the semi-finals of the Lilly of the Valley Conference.

Myst let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I keep feeding her bullshit, like how she needs to meditate on her type energy to sense it better. How understanding the ‘concept of Fire’ is supposed to help her learn Fire Punch.”

Then he took a step closer.

His light blue eyes shone with intensity as he stared into hers. “And it just… worked.”

Cynthia instinctively took a step back.

She wasn’t short, but for the first time, she realized Myst was tall, taller than she’d thought. When he wasn’t slouching, he loomed.

“That shit? That’s from fantasy books I only half remember. And now you tell me that there isn’t even type energy, and that it comes from their Aura? Cynthia, I don’t know any—” His jaw clamped shut with an audible click.

Silence.

They stared at each other.

Slowly, his face turned red.

Cynthia opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

What.

Myst shut his eyes, exhaled, and took a step back. “Sorry, just forg—”

“You won against me, and you want me to tell you that you aren’t a good trainer.” Cynthia’s voice was flat, cutting through his words before he could finish.

She hadn’t been bitter before.

Not really.

Her rational side had told her Myst wouldn’t be that good. His knowledge was too scattered, too theoretical. But deep down, a part of her had wanted to be wrong. She had expected him to surprise her.

She wanted to believe he’d surprise her.

Expected it, in some way.

And he had.

So why was he standing here, trying to tell her he didn’t deserve it?

A slow anger bubbled up inside her, curling in her gut.

Myst pursed his lips. “Cynthia, that’s not what I meant. Rei is insane, but she’s a genius being fed bullshit and making it work. Did you not hear what I said about type energy?” His voice tightened, almost desperate. “I thought it was... I don’t even know, some kind of internal reservoir of power. Even after battling with Rei for months, I never realized she used her Aura to fuel her moves, you needed to tell me that.”

Cynthia’s eye twitched. “When did I say that?”

Myst blinked, looking a little lost. “That time in the cave. You said Pokémon use Aura to battle.”

Cynthia glared at him. “I did not say that. I said Aura functioned as a shield, not that it fueled their moves. The Type Energy that a Pokémon uses to fuel moves is separate from their Aura.”

“Huh?”

“How did you even arrive at that conclusion?” she demanded. “If Aura and moves were connected like that, wouldn’t that mean a Pokémon could faint just from using Pound too many times?”

Myst held up his hands in a T-sign, signalling her to pause. “Wait, wait, what do you mean they’re separate? Pokémon have types, right? So wouldn’t it make sense that their Aura is, I don’t know, made of those types? Like, Buneary would have a Normal-type Aura, and she’d use that to fuel her moves.”

Cynthia took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten.

She wanted to stay mad at him for thinking she was mediocre enough to lose to a trainer who lucked into a talented Pokémon, but this was... sort of her fault.

When she’d explained Aura, they’d both been half-dead on their feet, and he had even lost a decent amount of blood. Honestly, she couldn’t even remember exactly what she’d said, so maybe she had explained it badly.

She would correct that mistake now.

“First off, let me repeat it again: do you think Rei would faint from using Pound against a tree for a whole day?”

Myst held up a finger. “Well, no, but if we’re talking Double Ed—”

Cynthia glared, and he slowly stopped talking.

“So, Aura isn’t the fuel for moves, okay? You were right in your first assumption, type energy is its own thing. Think of it like sunlight. A star, Aura, naturally gives off light, which in this case is type energy. A Pokémon’s Aura constantly produces it, and they can store, transform, or use it to power their moves.””

Myst frowned, deep in thought. “Okay… but then how do type weaknesses work? Like, when Rei takes a hit from a Fighting-type move, she ends up getting hurt twice as much, right?”

Cynthia shifted her weight, exhaling. “Well, think about stars. Some are red and give off more heat, kind of like Fire-type energy. Others are blue and burn cooler, like Water-type energy. Different Auras react depending on what kind of light they absorb. A Fire star gets destabilized more easily by Water sunlight… you get what I mean.”

Myst blinked. “Oh. That actually makes sense.”

 “So, I don’t know how you landed on your theory, but you weren’t completely off. As for that training method you mentioned? It’s not unheard of. In Kanto and Johto, it’s they have something similar. Trainers expose their Pokémon to different elements first, getting them used to the feel of it before teaching them how to wield it.” Cynthia finished, sighing as she saw her words sinking in.

Myst just stood there.

And Cynthia, after all this, realized something.

Maybe he was a genius, for figuring all this out on intuition alone.

Maybe he was a genius, for just knowing all these facts about Pokémon.

Maybe... he really was a genius.

But he was also an idiot.

Chapter Text

Cynthia leaned forward, arms crossed over her knees, watching as Myst sketched a stick figure into the dirt. The bonfire flickered behind him, its light shifting and twisting his drawings into strange shapes. She studied them, trying to make out what they were actually supposed to be. Normally, she wouldn’t care what he scribbled into the ground, but something about the way he shaped the figure tugged at her thoughts.

Before she could pin down why, he spoke.

“So most people just… don’t care how their Pokémon actually do the frankly magical stuff they do?” His voice carried a genuine sense of disbelief, like he was struggling to wrap his head around the idea.

“Yeah, they don’t care,” Cynthia muttered, half to herself. “You should see how the kids my age get when I bring it up. It’s not like I’m trying to explain something completely out there, I just want to talk about how type energy actually works. But nooo, that’s too theoretical, Cynthia,” she mimicked a high, girly voice before dropping into a deeper one, “No need for all that technical stuff, my Pokémon spits fire if I tell it to think warm thoughts long enough.” She threw up her hands in exaggerated frustration. “I swear most trainers think knowing ‘Flame Burst goes boom’ is enough.”

Myst smirked, tapping the stick against his knee. “I mean, it does go boom. Sounds pretty much perfect to me, what more do you even need to know?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Myst shrugged. “So you just gave up talking about it? What, don’t you have any friends willing to at least pretend to be interested?” His tone was light, teasing.

Cynthia froze.

Friends. She had those. Of course she did. It wasn’t like she was completely friendless. She wasn’t that bad. It was just… limited.

She knew…

Volkner. That was one.

Well, they’d only met recently.

And only once.

But it still counted, didn’t it?

It wasn’t like she couldn’t make more friends anyway; she was just selective.

Honestly.

“Of course I have people like that…” Her voice came out a little too loud, and as Myst’s brow furrowed in confusion, she pressed on. “But it’s not the same, you know? They don’t care, so it’s not any fun. You can’t actually talk about it.”

Near the fire, Queenie let out a low growl, shifting where she lay curled up. She’d been sleeping, and Cynthia could tell from the lazy flick of her tail that she didn’t appreciate all the noise this late at night.

“Anyway, what were we even talking about before this?” Cynthia continued lowering her voice while changing the subject as Myst focused on the Dragon-type.

Nailed it.

Myst’s looked back at her, expression settling into an odd half-smile, one eyebrow raised.

Or not.

But he didn’t say anything about her sudden change in subject, so she chalked it up to a win.

“Eh, I think we were talking about Normal-type energy before we derailed ourselves?”

“Yes, right, of course” Cynthia cleared her throat, regaining her composure, and put on her best lecture voice. “Well, as you suspected, Normal-type energy is believed to be the most fundamental of the type energies, closest to pure Aura. Compared to the others, it lacks any distinct flavour, which is why people named it the Normal-type.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Myst said, nodding. “It just made the most sense to me. And, well… I kinda assumed it was something like that from how Normal-type movepools look.”

Cynthia let the terminology slide. Movepool, one of those weird words Myst sometimes used to describe how many different moves a Pokémon could learn. It wasn’t technically wrong, and she had to admit, it was a pretty useful term.

“Because Normal-types can learn a wider variety of moves than most other Pokémon?” she asked, tilting her head. She’d never actually looked up the numbers before, but the observation made sense.

“Yeah, and it’s really not even close,” Myst said. “So, based on the idea that Normal-type energy was fundamental in some way, I started trying to train Rei in the elemental punches… Actually, have I even mentioned my idea behind how I trained her to use Type-energy?”

Cynthia thought back to the incident earlier today and nodded slowly. “You mentioned something about concepts, I think.”

“Right. You compared it to exposure training or something, but I think you misunderstood me.” Myst chuckled. “I didn’t just have Rei stare at a fire, tell her to ‘feel the vibes,’ and wait for her to magically figure out Fire Punch. That would be stupid. Honestly, how would she even understand those instructions?”

Cynthia stared at him, realizing, belatedly, that he had actually thought she was joking earlier when she mentioned how most trainers acted.

She considered correcting him… but kept her mouth shut. Let him figure it out on his own. It wasn’t like she wanted him to experience the same shock and horror she had when she first realized most people didn’t think about Pokémon the way she did.

But, well… it would probably be good for him.

Besides, he’d find out soon enough. Most trainers just tossed out a few vague instructions, think hot thoughts, hit that tree until it works, and hoped instinct would handle the rest.

The thought made her bite back a smile, already picturing the moment his enthusiasm met the blank stares of people who just didn’t care.

"No, by then, I had already helped Rei control Quick Attack by guiding the Normal-type energy in her body." Myst continued, his voice taking on a thoughtful lilt. "At first, she struggled with actively controlling the energy instead of just relying on instinct. So I had her figure out how she imagined the energy, then taught her to shape that image into a way to control it."

"I applied that same idea when teaching her Fire Punch. I wanted her to develop her own understanding of Fire-type energy, something that felt natural to her, then integrate that understanding into her Normal-type energy directly. If the energy transformed, it would prove that Normal-type energy really is fundamental. And if something else happened and I had to find some other way to have Rei acting as a torch…. Well at least I knew, Win-win."

Cynthia smiled at his phrasing but still turned his words over in her head. It was a pretty cool idea, but…

Well, she could bring that up later though.

For now?

His idea was fascinating.

“So that worked?” Cynthia asked, her eyes locking onto his face as he grinned widely.

Honestly, it felt a little silly to be so focused on him. He looked more like a caveman than anything, his long, messy hair nearly reaching his back, his bangs covering his eyes almost entirely.

Not to mention the scruffy stubble he had the nerve to call a beard.

And yet… when he spoke, she found herself drawn in, pulled toward his words, his ideas.

“Yeah! And guess what she landed on as her concept for Fire-type energy?” He laughed, almost deliriously. “It was—” He paused, then grinned. “Actually, guess.”

Cynthia thought of the little rabbit, her soft, fluffy fur, the warmth she radiated, the way she bounced with boundless energy. What would fire be to Rei…?

“Warmth?” she guessed. “Or maybe energy?”

“That’s what I thought she’d pick!” Myst exclaimed. “But nope. She landed on… devouring.”

Cynthia blinked.

What.

Myst nodded, twirling the stick between his fingers. “See, Rei doesn’t see fire as warmth or energy. To her, fire was something that fed on other things to grow. It was something that took to stay alive.”

Cynthia glanced towards the tree where Rei slept, how did she come up with that.

"I’ll be honest," Myst continued, "at first, I had no idea what to do with that. It wasn’t what I expected, and I wasn’t sure if I could even work with it. Compared to how she saw Normal-type energy, it was freaking weird. But I figured, if that’s how she understood fire, then that’s what we’d go with. So I told her to apply that concept to her Normal-type energy, to try and force it to consume the energy around it. And…"

His voice trailed off. He lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers meaningfully.

“Fire-type energy just… formed. Right around her paw, clear as day. It worked.” He laughed, shaking his head. “After that, she could generate Fire-type energy no problem. That was the moment I knew I was onto something.”

Myst exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. His grin turned a little wry. “Honestly, I think that’s why I was so bummed out when I thought I was just wrong. I thought I was making real discoveries, and then you showed up and invalidated everything I knew. I’d built everything on type energy being one thing, and then when I thought you said it didn’t even exist…” He trailed off for a second before forcing a smile. “Well. Anyway. That’s how I figured out Normal-type energy is fundamental.”

Cynthia marvelled at his approach to the problem, right up until she opened her mouth and mercilessly cut his explanation down.

“You’re wrong about that last part.”

Myst blinked. “What? I thou—”

“You didn’t prove Normal-type energy is fundamental by doing this,” she said, matter-of-factly. “All you proved is that you could transform Normal-type energy into Fire-type energy. I mean, you are right, and I can’t really fault you, but technically, you’d need to check if you could do the same thing with another type of Pokémon. What if a Riolu could directly transform its Fighting-type energy into Ice Punch?”

Myst opened his mouth, like to argue, but Cynthia just raised an eyebrow. She was right, and he knew it.

“Well, I mean, I am still right though?” He asked, shooting her finger guns.

Cynthia sighed but nodded. “Sort of. Some types can transform directly, like Water-type energy into Ice-type, but for a lot of them, you need an extra step. For example, when a Riolu wants to use Ice Punch, it first has to transform its Fighting-type energy into Normal-type energy, then into Ice-type energy. And even then, some of its original energy lingers, it can’t completely get rid of its Fighting-type characteristics.”

She paused, searching for a good example, before settling on one of the most common ones. “That’s why pure Fire-types can’t use Ice-type moves. The Normal-type energy coming from a Fire-type isn’t as ‘clean’ as the energy from an actual Normal-type, so it will never fully become Ice-type energy. Honestly though, take this with a grain of s—"

Before she could say more, something tapped her back.

She turned, blinking, only to come face-to-face with Riolu. His red-rimmed eyes stared up at her, looking utterly exhausted. He wobbled slightly on his feet, his expression as blank as it was judgmental.

“Ah.” Cynthia suddenly felt a little sheepish. “It is pretty late, huh?” she whispered.

Riolu exhaled sharply, pointedly, and motioned toward the tree. Following his gaze, she spotted Rei curled up beneath it, her small paws pressed firmly over her ears.

Behind her, Queenie let out a low another low rumbling growl, this time of agreement, and flicked her tail with deliberate irritation, sending a puff of dirt into the air.

Message received.

Cynthia gave an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright, alright. We’ll wrap it up.”

Riolu gave a slow, approving nod before trudging back toward the tree, collapsing onto the ground without another word.

Myst grinned. “I think that was a warning.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes but lowered her voice anyway.

“Yeah, you should have seen how Rei looked.”

Myst grin froze.

Hah. If she had to worry about her Pokémon being grumpy tomorrow, then he better suffer with her.

……………….

“Cynthia.”

She turned over, stubbornly avoiding the voice like it was the plague. It wasn’t morning yet. She hadn’t woken up on her own, and she couldn’t feel the warmth of the sun, that meant it wasn’t time to get up.

“Cynthia.”

She was an early riser. She was proud of that fact. Myst was just a freak.

“Wake up.”

So he didn’t need to drag her awake too!

“Our food got stolen.” He hissed.

Her eyes snapped open.

Sleepiness vanished in an instant as she shoved Myst off her and bolted upright, gaze whipping toward Queenie. The Dragon-type was still curled up near the fire’s remnants, deep asleep.

Food was stolen?

No, the problem was much bigger than that she realized slowly.

The backpack Queenie been guarding, the one she’d seen her Pokémon curl around, the one with their food, her spare clothes, the first-aid kit…

The one holding her completely irreplaceable Pokédex.

It was gone.

Cynthia stared, brain lagging behind the sheer impossibility of it. Someone had stolen from a sleeping Dragon-type. That wasn’t just bold, it was insane. Even sleeping, dragons were natural hoarders. Stealing from them was easier said than done.

Her mind conjured up the answer almost instantly.

“Sleep Powder.” She mouthed, eyes focusing on the shimmering dust laying over the dragon type.

Myst nodded slowly. “Yeah, I tried poking her awake, but she’s out like a light. I guess it works even better when used on someone who’s already asleep.”

Cynthia exhaled sharply, fists clenching. She’d read about it, but seeing it in action? That was different.

Mostly because the creature who used it did so to steal her backpack.

“We are tracking it down,” she said before anything else could be said.

Myst hesitated. “I mean, I don’t disagree, but it’s the dead of night. Don’t you think it might be a little da—”

Cynthia looked back at him.

He immediately straightened. “I mean, yes, sir! Waking up Riolu for some tracking, coming right up!”

……….

If there was one thing Cynthia appreciated about Riolu joining her before she set off on her Gym challenge?

He was extremely good at finding things.

Even among other Riolu, he was exceptional. His ability to sense and track with Aura already near a Lucario’s level. As long as whatever she was looking for had been lost within the last few days, he could always find it.

Which meant he found the trail without a problem.

Which meant they still had time to catch up.

Which meant they had to have enough time.

"Come on, Riolu, I know you’re tired, but we have to keep going." Cynthia urged, glancing back at him as he staggered through the forest like a drunk, barely upright from his interrupted sleep. Her heart twisted in her chest at the sight of his exhaustion, but she pushed through it.

Riolu shot her a look, his droopy eyes clearly saying: Why are we doing this right now instead of waiting until morning?

It was a reasonable question.

Honestly, Myst had been right earlier. The first thing you learned as a trainer was to not wander at night. Your Pokémon were tired, visibility was terrible, and in general, everything was just out to eat you. There were no real upsides, not unless you were after a Pokémon that could only be found at night.

So Riolu not understanding why she was this desperate made sense. He liked and respected her, could even read her emotions, but he couldn’t read her mind. He knew somebody had taken their backpack, but didn’t understand why that was such a crisis. After all, to him the most important thing in there was the food.

The little red box was she liked holding, that she sometimes took pictures with and typed away at?

It was barley worth a thought.

But to Cynthia?

It was important.

No, that wasn’t correct.

It was responsibility.

Her grandmother had personally vouched for her, had assured everyone that Cynthia was responsible enough to handle it. That she wouldn’t do something reckless with one of only three in the entire region.

Because the Pokédex wasn’t just a tool for cataloging Pokémon. It was a gift. A personal gesture from Professor Oak himself, meant to strengthen the bond between Sinnoh and Kanto.

Losing it wasn’t just losing a Pokédex.

It would mean proving everyone right, the ones who said she was too young, too inexperienced.

It would mean disappointing her grandmother, the one person who had believed in her.

It would mean losing something that was important to Sinnoh.

So, she couldn’t lose it.

She just couldn’t.

The forest around them blurred as she pushed forward, practically dragging Riolu and Myst along with her. She barely registered the rustling in the underbrush until the attack came—

A swarm of Nincada burst from the shadows, tiny chittering bodies scrambling over roots and leaves to cut them off.

Cynthia didn’t even break stride. "Queenie, Dragon Rage!"

A blast of searing energy swept forward, engulfing the Bug-types in a blue inferno. They screeched, scattering in all directions as the attack exploded their impromptu formation. Cynthia barely spared them a glance. They weren’t what mattered.

She kept running, Myst panting desperately at her side, trying to keep up.

Then his foot caught on a root. He stumbled.

Apparently, that made him too juicy a target.

Something lunged from above, a blur of deep blue.

A Heracross.

It dove straight for Myst, horn gleaming in the moonlight.

But Rei was fast.

The Buneary shot forward like a missile, ear snapping up to meet the Heracross mid-air.

Fire Punch.

Heat flashed, and the Bug-type crashed into a ditch with a strangled grunt. It twitched once, almost getting up—

Then Rei landed another one.

And another one.

And another one.

Cynthia should have commented on that. Probably. But her brain barely even registered it. Because her attention was locked onto something far worse.

Riolu had stopped.

His ears flickered. His eyes narrowed, flickering with confusion, like he didn’t quite understand what he was sensing.

Cynthia’s heart dropped like a stone. Her stomach curled in on itself.

It didn’t happen often, and she usually just chalked it up to her own fault, but sometimes, just sometimes, Riolu would lose track of an Aura signature. She hadn’t figured out why. Maybe the item was moving too fast. Maybe something else was interfering.

No, no, no, not now, please not now.

Myst’s voice rang out beside her. "Holy Cynthia, what’s the rush? I get you didn’t like losing the food and the backpack, but it’s not like we can’t find some more. If you want, I can even have Rei ask if the Staravia can hel—"

She turned.

Myst stopped mid-step. His outstretched hand hovered awkwardly a few centimeters from her shoulder.

"We can’t lose that backpack, okay?" She managed. "I just—can’t."

Myst’s arm snapped down instead, his hand closing around hers.

It was only then that she realized she was shaking.

He was looking at her, his expression serious, more serious than she’d ever seen him before. But when he noticed her reaction to it, he softened.

"Okay, okay. It’s fine. We’ll find it, okay? Worst comes to worst, we can just spend more time on it. It’s not like we have anywhere to be, right?"

The warmth of his hands grounded her, just for a second. Just enough to keep the dread at bay.

“Yeah, your righ—"

Riolu let out a sharp yip, eyes glowing as he locked onto the trail again.

Cynthia spun around, not bothering to finish her sentence.

They ran again.

Five minutes of dead sprinting and shoving through thick foliage later, Cynthia stumbled into a clearing. The dense canopy above broke apart, moonlight spilling across the ground in pale silver beams.

She let her eyes roam around, before snapping onto the center.

A massive stump stood there, the remains of an ancient tree. Even in death, it loomed, larger than the one they had rested under earlier.

But Cynthia barely noticed it.

Because standing atop it, like a performer commanding the stage, stood their thief.

A Roselia.

But not just any Roselia.

This one wore a tattered red scarf draped around its neck like a rogue’s mantle. It twirled Cynthia’s stolen backpack in one floral hand, the other resting elegantly on its hip in an unmistakably smug pose.

Then—

It bowed.

Cynthia blinked.

The Roselia tossed her bag into the air, letting it spin lazily before catching it again with a flourish. Then, with a theatrical flick of its wrist, it scattered a handful of glowing petals into the wind.

“…Are you kidding me?”

The dread in her gut fizzled into something sharper, hotter.

Anger.

“You—"

The Roselia took her momentary lapse in concentration as a cue card and, before she could even manage to say anything it raised its bouquet hands.

And Poison Powder exploded out from them.

Queenie reacted instantly, a single overpowered Slash clearing the smoke…

But it was already too late.

The Roselia was gone.

A beat of silence rang out in the clearing.

Cynthia’s eye twitched.

Myst let out a low whistle.

“Hello, Roselia Hood.”

Chapter Text

The sunlight spilled over the horizon as Cynthia stayed low in the grass, creeping forward like a Seviper stalking its prey. Pulling apart the tall blades, she peered down the small hill, her grey eyes narrowing at the sight of the cave entrance.

She sneered softly.

Unlike the cave she had sheltered in with Myst, or even the one with the ancient carvings, this one was unmistakably artificial. The entrance was too smooth, the stone subtly reshaped, and the plants around it grew just a little too deliberately, carefully arranged to obscure its presence.

Other Pokémon might have overlooked it, but to Cynthia’s trained eyes, it was obvious.

This wasn’t just a cave.

It was a carefully constructed hideout, shaped through the combined efforts of a Rock-, or maybe Ground-type, alongside a Grass-type Pokémon.

And it belonged to the thief.

Roselia.

Cynthia gritted her teeth, fury bubbling up as she recalled the smug way it had absconded with her backpack, her Pokédex, as if it had every right to take it. It had flaunted the theft, completely unconcerned that it carried something priceless.

If that had been all, maybe the long chase would have worn down her fury

She could have forgiven it. After all, it didn’t know what it had taken, probably just after a thrill, or maybe the food from her backpack.

So while it had felt personal…

It hadn’t been.

Not yet.

Her fingers curled as she remembered their second encounter a couple of hours earlier.

.……

Roselia stood at the base of a rocky cliff, its head tilted as if contemplating whether it could actually scale it. The red scarf, more thread than cloth, hung around its neck, tattered, but worn with pride.

Cynthia flexed her fingers at the sight of it, imagining, just for a moment, wrapping it around her hand and—

She took a slow breath, forcing herself back into focus.

No, she needed to approach this with a cool head.

A glance to the side showed Myst leaning against a tree, forehead resting against the bark, looking half-dead from exhaustion.

Useless.

Moving her gaze didn’t help, Rei had already collapsed face-first into the dirt.

Also useless.

Her eyes flickered left.

Riolu? Still standing… but only because he was staring blankly at a plant, looking almost envious. He was technically conscious, but Cynthia wasn’t about to risk him. If he got knocked out, the chase would be over until he recovered.

That left only one reasonable option.

Peeking out from behind the tree, she spotted Roselia weaving a rope of leaves, still distracted. Silently, she pulled Queenie’s Pokéball from her belt in one hand and her last unused Pokéball in the other.

If she could throw it and catch Roselia, even if it broke out, that brief pause would be enough to corner it.

A victorious image flashed in her mind, Roselia pinned beneath her glare, desperately handing back her Pokédex, and before she could stop herself, a low chuckle slipped from her lips.

A mistake.

Roselia spun in an instant, scarf whipping through the air as its half-lidded eyes snapped open in alarm.

Cynthia reacted just as fast, hurling Queenie’s Pokéball forward.

“Dragon Rage!”

Roselia didn’t hesitate. It thrust its arms forward, firing off a storm of Poison Stings.

But just because Roselia was fast, didn’t mean it was fast enough.

Queenie materialized in a flash of light, took a deep breath and—

A serpent of blue dragonfire surged forward.

The Poison Stings got swallowed whole, washed away like reeds in a river as the Dragon Rage raced towards its target.

It struck the green figure dead-on.

For a second, Cynthia could almost imagine it flying backward, barely holding on as it crashed against the rocky cliff.

That did not happen.

Instead, the figure burst apart into a swirl of glowing green leaves and flower petals, burning with blue dragonfire.

Cynthia’s eyes widened at the sight, momentarily caught up in the beauty of the flame-licked petals twisting through the air.

Then her brain restarted.

A trick, had to be.

Her gaze swept the area, but the smoke curling from the burning petals combined with the darkness of the night, made it impossible to see anything.

She almost commanded Queenie to charge in but bit her tongue. She needed to stay cautious, Queenie might be safe, but she could still be harmed.

A beat passed of nothing happening.

Then—

The swirling petals and leaves that had been falling silently suddenly stopped and then shifted.

All at once, they turned toward her.

Cynthia’s eyes snapped to a section of the smoke.

It was a little-known fact, but unless trained otherwise, Pokémon using telekinetic based attacks almost always caused objects to shift outward from themselves. Which meant that while every floating leaf turned to face them, a distinct cluster gathered in the leftmost part of the smoke.

Got you.

“Queenie, Bulldoze the left side!”

Queenie smashed her leg into the ground before the Roselia could react.

In an instant, cracks split through the earth. Ground-type energy surged forward, tearing through the lingering smoke and revealing the entire area.

Roselia stood there, eyes widening in shock as it tried to finish its attack.

The earth beneath it erupted like a bomb, sending shockwaves through its limbs.

It let out a sharp grunt, staggering as the energy drained from its body. The floating leaves around it collapsed, losing their gravity-defying lift as Roselia could no longer support them with its Magical Leaf.

Cynthia didn’t let up.

“Slash!”

Queenie lunged, talons glowing white as they extended.

Cynthia would give it credit.

Roselia reacted instantly even after taking damage.

It threw itself to the side, firing off Poison Stings mid-motion.

It didn’t matter.

Queenie didn’t care.

Her thick scales shrugged off the attack.

And Roselia?

Still floating in mid-air, it realized too late that Bulldoze had a secondary effect. Anything hit would be rooted to the earth via Ground-type energy, slowing down its movements and turning even the most graceful leap into a tumbling fall.

“Roseli—” was all it managed.

Queenie’s talons slashed across its body mid-air, sending it flying straight up.

Cynthia grinned as her bag tumbled with it, the red scarf fluttering in the wind. Roselia soared helplessly into the air, before its arc curved down.

Nowhere to ru—

She blinked.

Roselia suddenly stopped.

What.

Wings of grass unfurled from its back, held together through a careful application of Magical Leaf.

Cynthia stared.

The attack that was supposed to send it flying helplessly had instead sent it high enough that it could glide gracefully to the top of the cliff.

She had helped it escape.

Cynthia’s mouth fell open as Roselia landed with a stagger, its leafy wings falling apart with a cascade of petals.

It took a deep breath before turning around.

Then, with all the dramatic flair of a stage performer, Roselia staggered up to the cliff’s edge, still hurt, still slowed.

But grinning.

It saluted.

Gave her a bow.

Waved its arms, letting the remnants of its wings flutter around it like roses tossed to a victorious performer.

Finally, with that done, it turned, threw its red scarf behind itself, and walked away.

Cynthia felt her hand tremble slightly as exhaustion hit her like a brick. Almost an hour. And she let it escape?

Again?

Her vision blurred, nausea creeping up—

Myst’s hand fell onto her shoulder, and she relaxed.

Then she heard his voice, “And you can remember this as the day you almost caugh—"

Her head snapped toward him, fury surging back to the surface.

He stopped, smiled, looking way too satisfied, then opened his mouth again, like he was about to continue.

She glared.

He shut his mouth.

……

Roselia making fun of her like that…

Cynthia’s fingers curled into a fist.

Fine.

If Roselia wanted to play games, she’d play.

But this time she wasn’t going to take it lightly.

Her gaze flicked to Myst. Somehow, despite still having gotten no sleep, he looked better than last time they’d cornered the thief. He had tried to explain he’d crash eventually, that this was all a temporary up-swing, but Cynthia didn’t care.

If he was still standing, he was still useful…

Maybe.

Either way it shouldn’t matter, Queenie should be enough. But Cynthia had to admit, Roselia was smart. Too smart. If it had more tricks up its sleeve, it could slip away again.

If that happened, they’d have to rest, reset, wait.

And she wasn’t sure she could handle that right now.

She glanced down at her side, Riolu was already back in his ball, knocked out from tracking the cave. Rei had at least managed to get some sleep on Myst’s back, but Riolu had completely burned through his already limited energy.

Queenie, Rei and Myst.

That was enough.

Had to be enough.

This time, she was getting her Pokédex back.

“You remember the plan?” Cynthia whispered.

Myst blinked at her, slow and bleary. “Yeah, we go in and… beat up the Roselia?”

Cynthia glared at him. “Queenie and I will fight it head-on. You and Rei make sure it doesn’t escape.”

“I mean, that is what I said, no?” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cynthia didn’t blink.

“…Okay, okay, I get it,” Myst muttered.

Good enough.

She moved, sliding down the small hill with careful, deliberate steps. Myst followed silently behind her. Cynthia crept toward the entrance, her eyes flicking over the vines that obscured it. Nothing seemed out of place.

She stepped forward, only for Myst to grab her arm.

She froze, breath catching in her throat, but didn’t make a sound. Turning to him, she followed his gaze to the ground.

A thin root stretched across the entrance, pulled taut, too deliberate to be natural.

A tripwire.

Cynthia gave a silent nod of thanks and carefully stepped over it.

It was just another sign of how intelligent their target was. Cynthia had never met a wild Pokémon that used tools like this. Even the makeshift wings of leaves had been beyond normal instinct.

It made her hesitate.

Could it have a trainer?

She hadn’t even thought about it until now, but… the signs were there. The scarf. The calculated tricks.

Cynthia clenched her fist.

If Roselia did have a trainer, then this could get serious. It could be a criminal hiding in the woods and avoiding the police.

“This might get messy,” she muttered, stopping at right outside the entrance to peer into the tunnel.

Darkness stretched ahead, but faintly glowing moss lined the walls, casting just enough light to make out the path. The tunnel curved sharply, cutting off her view, but she had a feeling that if she took even one step further, it would widen into a proper cave.

Behind her, Myst shifted. “You think it has a trainer?” he asked casually.

Cynthia paused at his wording. The way he said it. The way he phrased it.

“You thought of that before?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

Myst shrugged. “Yeah. First time I saw its scarf, that was my first thought.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Figured you’d already considered it.” He paused, then shot her a small, knowing smile. “And, well… doesn’t really change anything, does it? We’re getting your Pokédex back either way.”

Cynthia stared into his blue eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She tore her gaze away, muttering, “You’re right.”

They turned the corner. Unlike what she’d expected, the cave didn’t widen immediately, but she could make out the hint of an opening just five meters ahead.

She took another step forward, her foot brushed against something soft.

Cynthia glanced down, then froze.

Her backup shirt lay crumpled at her feet, unraveled from its usual ball-form. Before she could even begin to process what that meant, the light flickered and the moss glowed brighter for a moment. It cast a soft light that revealed the entirety of the tunnel and with it the contents of her backpack, spilled across the floor like hastily discarded trinkets.

But it wasn’t just the backpack. The food, the berries, everything was thrown to different corners, like someone had been digging through it in a hurry and tossed it aside once they didn’t find what they wanted.

The realization set in like a slow, creeping tide.

She’d assumed the Roselia had stolen the food, but that didn’t make sense. If it had wanted the backpack for the food, it wouldn’t be scattered around like this.

So that left…

A trophy?

Proof that it could?

Or…

“How many people know you have a Pokédex… actually, how valuable is it?” Myst asked slowly, scanning the surroundings.

Cynthia pursed her lips, her fingers brushing Queenie’s Pokéball.

“Its priceless.” She muttered.

She glanced at Myst, noticing the subtle change in his posture. His thin body tensed, his jaw set. His eyes locked on the widening part of the cave. For a brief moment, she wondered if he’d suggest waiting, figuring out some better plan instead of simply rushing in.

“Let’s go then.”

Cynthia eyes softened.

“We cou—” She started.

Before she could finish, a flurry of leaves erupted from the darkness.

Rei reacted instantly.

With the raw strength only a Pokémon could possess, she yanked both of them to the ground fast enough that it was lucky neither of them got whiplash. The leaves sliced through the air just above their heads, missing by inches.

Cynthia barely had time to register what had happened before muscle memory kicked in. Her fingers flashed to Queenie’s Pokéball.

A burst of red light.

A roar.

Queenie materialized in an instant, and before Cynthia could even give a command, the cave flashed bright blue.

Dragon Rage.

The blast surged forward, its light illuminating the cave for a split second, just enough to reveal their attacker.

Roselia stood in the opening to the larger chamber, bathed in shadows.

But something was wrong.

It wasn’t dodging.

Its eyes glowed with an eerie green light, and the moss along the walls brightened, turning iridescent. A pulse of Grass-type energy surged through the cave, so strong Cynthia could almost smell it, fresh, sharp, growing.

A split second before Dragon Rage could hit, Roselia thrust its hands forward.

A blinding green laser of leaves and condensed Grass-type energy tore through the attack, cutting through the raging blue flames as if they were nothing.

Then it slammed into Queenie.

The impact sent her skidding backward, claws scraping against stone as she roared in defiance. Cynthia’s breath caught in her throat as her starter staggered.

One step.

Then another.

“Queenie!”

Gabite dropped to a knee, her tail digging into the ground for balance. Cynthia felt ice creep into her veins.

Darkness fell over the cave, the moss seeming to wither slightly, like the attack had drained it.

Cynthia’s pulse pounded in her ears.

How?

Roselia was clever, but its attacks had never been devastating. To bring Queenie to her knees in one attack took power, the kind an elite trainer’s ace might wield.

Magical Leaf? Not strong enough. Giga Drain? No chance.

What grass move even had enough—?

Leaves flew straight for Queenie, sharp and cutting, but Cynthia needed a moment.

Just one second to think.

“Protect!”

Queenie let out a low growl, but obeyed without hesitation. Her Aura flared to life, shimmering around her like a protective shield. The leaves collided with the barrier, shattering into harmless fragments. Then she remained still, the lingering effect of Protect locking her in place, leaving her unable to move.

But just because Queenie needed time didn’t mean Rei did.

“Fire Punch!”

Cynthia barely had time to react before the air shifted beside her.

Rei vanished.

A streak of red light shot forward, moving faster than Cynthia’s eyes could track. Roselia’s eyes flicked toward the oncoming threat, but it was too late. Rei was already upon it.

Her ear ignited with Fire-type energy.

Fire Punch formed in an instant.

Roselia raised one of its flowery hands.

Cynthia’s stomach dropped.

But instead of another devastating Grass attack, a dozen sharp, purple needles fired in a scattershot.

Poison Sting.

Rei twisted midair.

The attack barely grazed past her.

And then her flaming fist smashed into Roselia’s face.

A burst of embers scattered on impact, the flames licking against its petals. Roselia let out a sharp cry, staggering back.

Even so it still tried to counterattack, raising another flowery hand.

Rei didn’t let it.

Another Fire Punch struck dead center, slamming into Roselia’s stomach. The Grass-type launched backward, hurtling into the chamber beyond, through the vines that obscured it.

Rei flashed white, vanishing once more.

A sudden burst of red exploded from the chamber, followed by a faint explosion as Rei hit something.

Queenie staggered to her feet, shoulders heaving.

Her growl rumbled low and dangerous, tail lashing behind her.

Frustration radiated off her in waves, anger, embarrassment, and before Cynthia could even call her back, Queenie let out a roar and rushed after Roselia and Rei.

Cynthia scrambled up, brushing dirt from her clothes.

Myst pushed himself off the ground a beat later.

Explosions rang out in the distance, then a roar, then… nothing.

For a few seconds, Cynthia just stared at the hole leading into the larger chamber.

Then Rei appeared in the opening, one ear alight with Fire-type energy, casting flickering shadows along the walls.

A makeshift torch.

She turned her head—

And took a step back, startled by Myst’s presence beside her.

Too close.

Close enough that she could see the exhaustion dulling his sharp gaze. Close enough to see the small scar on his lip, just near the edge of his mouth.

“I think we might have won,” she said, taking a step back and trying to refocus.

Myst exhaled, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Well, since Roselia decided to just brawl it out, I don’t think there was any other option.” He paused, then tilted his head. “You feeling like checking out if we can find your Pokédex?”

Cynthia nodded, almost absentmindedly.

She had assumed they’d win, never doubted it, really, but after being outsmarted by Roselia before, she’d expected something more tactical. A drawn-out fight, a battle of wits.

Not this.

Not Roselia firing off one massive attack, then getting completely overwhelmed the moment Rei got in close.

It felt off.

While she hadn’t seen Roselia fight much, it seemed like a smart fighter, not somebody who would gamble on taking out Queenie in one huge move, especially since Rei had been there.

She moved forward, Myst letting out a yawn as he followed.

That decision made her doubt her earlier idea, that Roselia had a trainer. If it did, why hadn’t they run the moment they saw her and Myst? Why had Roselia stayed and fought instead of slipping away like before?

Maybe the cave only had one exit.

But if a trainer had actually used Roselia and a Rock-type to carve it out, they would have had access to Dig. Roselia and its hypothetical trainer could’ve just vanished underground the moment they were discovered.

But they hadn’t.

Light flared as Cynthia stepped through the vines that had covered the small hole, her breath catching as she took in the chamber beyond.

It was massive.

The dim glow of the tunnel moss paled in comparison to what lay inside, every surface bathed in an eerie green luminescence, particles drifting lazily from the ceiling like falling embers.

The air smelled rich, alive.

A pool of water rested off to the side, its surface impossibly still.

And against the far wall—

A mountain of things, haphazardly piled in the corner.

It looked exactly like she’d expected, a thief’s hideout.

But Cynthia’s gaze didn’t go to the stolen goods.

Not to Queenie, standing guard over Roselia’s fainted body.

Not to the Flygon in the corner, its long red scarf stark against its green scales.

Not to the deep gash marring its side, the wound long since dried.

No, her eyes didn't even focus on the fact the Flygon was dead.

No.

Her eyes locked onto what the Flygon was clutching.

A Ralts.

The tiny Pokémon lay curled in its arms, shuddering softly with every breath. A dark blotch of something covered one of its small hands, ink-black against pale white skin.

A blue cap rested atop its head, slightly askew.

And just like that—

Everything snapped into place.

Its red scarf. The odd intelligence of Roselia’s traps. The sheer desperation of its final attack and why it hadn’t dodged or escaped.

Myst exhaled beside her.

“That Ralts is shiny, isn’t it?” he asked, voice quiet.

Cynthia barely nodded.

Because suddenly—

This wasn’t about her Pokédex anymore.

Chapter Text

Cynthia stared at the Ralts, her mind grinding to a halt.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

“It is,” she said slowly, realizing belatedly that Myst couldn’t have seen her nod.

Either way, he was right. It had to be shiny. She had never seen a Ralts before, never mind a shiny one, but she knew its cap was supposed to be green, not blue.

The injured Pokémon let out a low moan, and Cynthia swallowed.

Myst grimaced beside her, glancing toward Roselia.

“So I guess…” He trailed off, blinking like he’d lost his train of thought. He shook his head and tried again. “I mean, I guess the Roselia wanted your backpack to help it, then?”

He motioned towards another corner.

She followed his hand to a slightly raised platform, looking almost like a makeshift table. Her backpack laid there, open and emptied of all its contents. Next to it sat the Chansey-themed box, untouched.

Well, not untouched.

Deep gouges marred its surface, scratches carving into the once-smooth lid. But the box remained closed.

“Roselia didn’t open it?” Myst murmured, stepping forward to pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, tracing the locking mechanism.

The answer became obvious.

“Ah. No fingers.” He muttered, fumbling slightly, his hands trembling.

It took him a few seconds to hook a finger under the latch and press up and down at the same time. With a soft click, the box popped open, revealing her Pokédex lying on top of the medical supplies, safe and dry inside the waterproof casing.

Cynthia stared at it.

For a moment, relief rushed through her, so sharp and sudden it almost hurt.

Then, vicious satisfaction curled in her chest.

She had won.

She had beaten Roselia.

She had finally gotten her Pokédex back.

The next second?

That feeling burst, like a balloon pricked by a needle

All her anger, all her frustration, everything that had driven her to run through the night just vanished.

And in its place?

Nothing.

She sagged, muscles aching as the weight of everything crashed down on her.

For what?

She let her eyes glide between Myst, Roselia, and Ralts.

She had sprinted through the night, dragged Myst along, nearly collapsed Riolu—

For what?

To play villain in some poor Pokémon’s story?

Nausea bubbled up in her stomach. Her hands clenched into the fabric of her sleeves.

Great job, Cynthia.

Myst smiled as he held out her Pokédex, but she barely saw it. Her eyes locked onto him instead. He always looked off. Too bony. Too pale for someone who spent every day outside. Usually, she noticed it, but never quite realized it.

But right now?

He looked destroyed.

Dark circles curled under his eyes. His hand trembled as he held up the Pokédex. Every small detail, the slight tremor in his fingers, the hollow look in his gaze, made it painfully clear. He was beyond exhausted. Running on something he probably shouldn’t be tapping into.

And even with that smile, so practiced, so effortless, he couldn’t make her unsee it.

Her nails dug into her palm.

This whole chase had been too much.

She should have waited.

Should have gone alone.

This was never his problem.

Myst’s smile grew a little more forced when she didn’t take the Pokédex. “What, you don’t want it anymore? Guess I’ll keep it, then. Might make a good paperweight.” He joked, grabbing her hand gently and pressing the device into her palm.

It had always felt deceptively heavy, just a touch more than she thought it should. When she’d complained, her grandmother had only chuckled and said, "It’s as heavy as the responsibility that comes with it."

Cynthia looked at the Pokédex.

Then at Myst.

Then at the Ralts.

The Pokédex slipped from her fingers.

Myst caught it before it hit the ground, but she was already moving.

“You—” He began.

She brushed past him, scanning the medical supplies.

Status condition treatments, where were they?

Her eyes darted over the items in the box. No Awakening, no Ice Heal. She hadn’t bothered buying them, her Pokémon could usually shrug off sleep, and freezing was unlikely in the forest. No Burn Heal, either, you could quick fix that with a prolonged dip in cold water.

But she had stocked up on other things.

Myst grabbed her arm from behind. “Seriously! You want to run after your Pokédex, fine, but don’t just—”

Cynthia turned toward him.

Myst paused. His grip loosened.

“Fuck.” He mumbled.

She didn’t register his words.

Nor the way his face twisted into something like regret.

Instead, she yanked her arm free, shoved aside a Paralyze Heal, and grabbed what she needed.

A small red-and-yellow syringe.

A standard-issue Antidote.

Then she rushed to Ralts, the sharp, metallic scent of blood hitting her the moment she drew close. Her stomach twisted, but she shoved the feeling down, reaching for its darkened hand—

Ralts flinched.

A tremor ran through its tiny body, barely noticeable except for the way its blackened hand twitched. Its breathing came in short, uneven gasps, its whole form trembling like it was teetering on the edge of collapse.

Her eyes locked onto the poisoned limb.

It wasn’t recent.

The darkness of the infection, the way the flesh had withered.

No, it had been at least a week.

A week of agonizing pain.

A week of watching its greatest protector, a mighty Flygon, slowly die around it.

A week as its friend, a gallant Roselia, desperately scrambled to find a cure.

Tears welled up in Cynthia’s eyes as she uncapped the syringe, her vision blurring.

And she had wanted to—

Had wanted to—

Then Ralts’ small horn flared with a sudden, desperate glow.

A crushing force exploded outward.

And she was in the air.

Floating.

Pain flared as she hit the ground, her elbows scraping against the rough floor. The world spun, her vision blurring at the edges as the breath fled her lungs. Her arms screamed in protest as she pushed herself upright, but she barely noticed—

Because the syringe had slipped from her fingers.

Her eyes locked onto it, and her heart lurched as she watched it spin through the air, too fast, too far.

“REI!” Myst screamed.

Rei leapt.

Myst’s partner twisted midair, ears snapping forward and caught the syringe just before it hit the ground.

Cynthia exhaled, but before she could even think about moving, Myst snatched it from Rei’s ear.

For a second he didn’t do anything, just stared at the syringe in his hand.

Then, almost absently, he spoke.

“You know… Ralts senses the emotions of people through its horns.” His voice was quiet, like he wasn’t speaking to her so much as reminding himself.

He smiled. An easy, practiced expression.

It didn’t look natural.

Even so, as he took slow, measured steps toward the shivering Pokémon, his voice didn’t stop. “They draw closer to trainers with positive emotions… and hide from negative ones, too, I guess.”

Myst crouched in front of Ralts, hesitating for just a moment.

Then, softly—

“What do I do?”

His voice didn’t crack.

He sounded completely calm.

But Cynthia felt it in her bones.

They stared at each other. Cynthia looked away first, fixing her gaze on the syringe.

His grip on it was wrong, his hands were trembling.

She didn’t need to ask, didn’t see the point, he had never done this before.

Of course he hadn’t, after all, even if he had, he probably wouldn’t remember.

She should be the one to help.

Letting him try to inject their only Antidote would be foolish… but more than that, this was her mistake.

She had trained for this.

She should be the one to fix it.

She clenched her jaw and wiped her tears away. She could feel sorry for herself later. Right now, she needed to—

Ralts’ horn flared again, letting out a desperate wail, like her very presence made it afraid.

Myst held up a hand, and she froze. His expression hadn’t changed.

He was still smiling.

“Cynthia, you can’t. Ralts won’t let you get near right now.” His voice sounded too light. Like he had packed away his emotions and sent them somewhere far away.

Cynthia opened her mouth, wanting to argue, to protest—

And shut it again.

Not about her.

This wasn’t about her.

“…Okay,” she managed, before taking a breath and forcing herself to calm down. “See where the skin is darkest? Lay the tip of the Antidote there, just enough to barely pierce it.”

He paused. “Just under the skin? How would that—”

Cynthia cut him off.

“Just do it. Antidotes cleanse poison through Aura. Think what saved you.”

“Right.” Myst mumbled.

His fingers were still trembling as he positioned the needle, but his breathing steadied, just slightly.

“And?”

“Slowly. Light pressure,” Cynthia stressed.

Myst exhaled.

Then pressed.

It felt like it took forever. Having to watch as the liquid inside the syringe slowly emptied.

Then, as his finger reached the end and the syringe emptied, Cynthia bit her lip.

Ralts didn’t move. Its horn flickered weakly, but there was no sign that anything had changed. Cynthia’s nails dug into her palms. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

What if the medicine was faulty?

What if she had given wrong instructions?"

Then, the next moment, the blackened flesh began to change.

At first, it was subtle, so subtle Cynthia almost missed it. But then, like ink bleeding through paper, the sickly darkness began to retreat.

The veins, once stark against the pallid skin, lost their unnatural hue, fading back into something closer to normal. The twisted, withered edges of Ralts’ small hand loosened, as if the pain that had kept them rigid was finally beginning to fade.

Ralts’ breathing, once sharp and ragged, steadied. Each exhale came a little easier than the last, no longer so uneven, no longer a desperate fight for relief. The shivering didn’t stop completely, but it lessened, the erratic, frantic tremors shrinking into something smaller, something manageable.

Myst stepped back like he’d handled a wild Ursaring.

He was trembling, his eyes shaking.

Like this had been more exhausting than chasing the Roselia through the entire night.

Cynthia exhaled.

“Good job,” she murmured, a numbing relief flooding her.

But even as relief settled in, she kept staring at the limb.

Even though the poison had receded, she could still see how weak the limb had gotten. It would need more treatment, and fast.

If not, they would have to do something.

The Antidote might have cleared the toxin from Ralts’ Aura, allowing it to heal again, but the poison had already seeped deep into its body. That was the problem with waiting too long, and the reason Antidotes were meant to be used immediately. Wait too long, and even an Antidote wouldn’t be enough.

A Pokémon Center would be the only option.

And right now, that wasn’t an option.

Myst was barely standing as it was. After today? After everything? It would take a miracle for him to move tomorrow. Even that was optimistic.

Honestly, even with his Aura helping him, it was incredible he was still on his feet.

Cynthia clenched her jaw. “I’ll get out of the forest tomorrow and find help. You need to stay here and take care of Ralts.”

Myst turned to her, and something in his smile made her freeze. It was soft. Understanding.

And completely wrong on his face.

“Cynthia…” He took a step closer.

She stepped back. “It’s for the best. I can’t keep dragging you around, not when you’re like this. And it’ll be faster, if I run through today and tomorrow, I can probably make it out by then.”

He smiled at her.

“You can’t convince me this isn’t the best plan! Look at yourself, look at Ralts!” She gestured sharply. “You’re both going to get hurt, seriously hurt, if we don’t do something. You need to stay here, rest, and let me handle this.”

Myst moved closer again.

“You’re barely standing, Myst!” Her voice cracked on his name. “Even…” She fumbled for the right words, clenching her nails deeper into her skin. “Even with your Aura helping, it’s a fucking miracle you’re still on your feet. And I know you’ll argue, but let’s be real, you’re too weak.”

He just kept smiling. Like she wasn’t making perfect, irrefutable sense.

She clenched her fists. “Don’t look at me like that! You’re exhausted, you’re dying! And I—”

Her breath hitched. The words caught in her throat, jagged and painful.

“And I— I dragged you around like—”

Myst lifted a hand.

She barely had time to flinch before he pulled her into a hug.

Cynthia went rigid.

Then, all at once, something cracked inside her.

She was crying.

Had been crying.

So she cried.

………………………….

Cynthia stirred as something nudged her head off its resting spot. Grumbling, she tried to reclaim it, only to push her face into something soft and… weird. She shifted, attempting to move away, but something brushed her lips, before slipping inside her mouth.

She spat it out instantly, but the feeling had jolted her out of her sleep.

With a groan, she cracked her eyes open—

Only to be met with a curtain of black that blocked her vision. For a groggy second, she struggled to process what she was seeing.

Then, before she could make sense of it, the thing she had been leaning on shifted ever so slightly, causing her head to slide off once again. A dull ache spread through her neck as she pushed herself upright, blinking blearily…

Right into Myst’s face.

And his hair, which she had just had in her mouth.

Cynthia froze. The sight was enough to snap her from half-asleep to wide awake in an instant. Her eyes dropped, focusing on the tips of his messy hair. Heat crept up her face as Myst let out a low groan. Without thinking, she immediately averted her gaze, her eyes darting elsewhere—

And spotted the Pokéball in her lap.

Why was there a Pokéball in her lap?

She usually kept them in…

Oh.

Memory clicked into place. She had captured Roselia last night, right before exhaustion overtook her. The decision had been almost automatic, a way to ensure that, even if the Pokémon woke up, it wouldn’t cause any more trouble.

She stared at it blankly until Myst stirred beside her, and Cynthia’s eyes drifted back towards him and—

Her face burned again.

Suddenly, everything from yesterday came rushing back. The things she had said. The way he had held her as she cried her heart out…

She tried to move away, to quietly put some distance between them, but something stopped her.

She froze.

Slowly, her eyes lowered to the hand still wrapped around her waist, holding her gently.

Her breath caught.

“Cynthia, what is—”

His voice, soft and groggy, made her pulse skip. Her body stiffened like it suddenly wasn’t hers to control, like her limbs belonged to someone else. The warmth of his hand on her waist sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.

Without thinking, she twisted out of his grip and stood abruptly, scanning the room as if searching for an escape.

Nothing had changed since yesterday.

Queenie was still curled up by the entrance, Rei was snuggled up against Myst, and Ralts lay peacefully on the makeshift grass patch they had created as a bed.

Behind her, Myst yawned, groggily pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. His movements were sluggish, like just getting up was painful.

Cynthia stole a glance at him, then quickly looked away before he could catch her staring.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, feeling suddenly unsure of how to sound normal.

“I mean, I don’t think it’s morning,” Myst commented lazily, stretching.

Cynthia blinked.

“Right… we fell asleep…” She trailed off, her mind still caught in yesterday.

And the unmitigated disaster it had been.

Her gaze flicked back to Myst.

He looked… not fine, but then, he never really looked fine. Still, she had expected worse, exhaustion, frailty, maybe even the same drained look he had after using the Aura booster. Instead, he looked almost normal.

Like he hadn’t just spent the night running through a forest, surviving on nothing but the berries they stumbled across.

Cynthia exhaled slightly. That was a relief. She had worried he’d be out for days. But considering his current state, they might even be able to continue their journey tomorrow…

Of course, they had wasted a lot of time running almost perpendicular to the river they were supposed to follow.

And that wasn’t even counting the fact that they’d need to brin—

“You look better,” Myst mused, lazily stretching again. Then he smirked. “No longer feeling like the world is ending, Princess?”

Cynthia flushed as his words cut off her thoughts.

Myst blinked at her reaction, clearly not expecting it, but before he could say anything, she shot him a glare.

“You don’t have to make everything a joke, you know,” she bit out.

Myst opened his mouth, and she braced herself for another snarky remark, but then he hesitated. His expression shifted, and instead, he shrugged helplessly.

“Yeah, sorry. Force of habit, I guess,” he admitted. “But I did tell you, right? Most problems solve themselves after a good night’s sleep.”

Cynthia inhaled deeply, regaining some calm. “It’s fine. Just…” She trailed off, unsure what she even wanted to say.

Myst, however, didn’t let her linger in silence.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know?” he said suddenly.

His tone, playful, teasing, was the kind she usually associated with couples…

WHAA—

Cynthia's thoughts scattered, her brain momentarily short-circuiting, her face flushing with embarrassment.

Myst took a step closer, his soft smile making her heart beat a little faster.

Cynthia instinctively held up a hand to stop him—

But before she could even process the impulse, he brushed past her, moving toward Ralts. He crouched down next to the small Pokémon, his voice light and casual. “Just because you’ve got a cap on doesn’t mean I can’t see you peeking. We’re not going to hurt you. That’d be counterproductive after we saved you and all that.”

Cynthia’s thoughts stalled.

Oh.

Right.

He was talking to Ralts.

Why did she even…

Her mind scrambled, and she quickly pushed the thought aside, forcing her attention to Myst’s hand as it hovered gently near Ralts.

Sure enough, the little Pokémon was peeking out from beneath her blue cap, her wide, cautious eyes locked onto the scene. A soft, unexpected warmth unfurled in Cynthia’s chest at the sight, a melting feeling that made her heart flutter in her ribs.

The sight was enough to make her forget about Myst entirely.

She smiled.

But as if sensing her gaze, Ralts’s eyes met hers—

And immediately darted away.

Ralts scrambled back, her small body trembling as she tucked herself behind Myst’s arm.

Cynthia’s smile froze.

“Oh, smart,” Myst murmured, glancing down at the Psychic-type. “That thing is scary.”

Ralts clung to him tighter, and Cynthia’s heart twisted at the sight.

With a sigh, Cynthia muttered, “You don’t need to encourage it.”

She took a step forward, but Ralts trembled again, retreating further.

The sight of the little Pokémon, so fragile and scared, twisted Cynthia’s heart like a vice. Honestly, did every cute Pokémon recently have some sort of vendetta against her?

Myst, though, didn’t miss a beat. “Almost drowned me yesterday,” he added casually.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “That was just—” She sighed again, deciding to let him have that one. Just for today.

Myst only grinned impishly at her. “Just what?”

She rolled her eyes at the way he grinned at her.

Typical.

But the frustration that had been bubbling inside her from earlier seemed to fade. Maybe it was his smile. Maybe it was just… the situation. Either way, it felt pointless to keep pushing back.

With a quiet exhale, she straightened up.

“I messed up yesterday,” she started suddenly.

Myst blinked, processing her words for a moment before immediately waving her off. “That was as much my fault, honestly, if—”

She raised a hand, cutting him off. “Let me finish.”

He closed his mouth.

Cynthia took a breath.

“I messed up yesterday. Not just because I dragged you along. Not just because I underestimated Roselia. Not just because I panicked when Ralts needed me.”

The words hurt to say.

“But because I did all of those things.”

She still had to say them.

She glanced at Ralts again, who was peeking over Myst’s shoulder now.

“So… thank you.”

Myst blinked, as if startled.

“You didn’t just help,” Cynthia continued, her voice soft but steady. “You helped without a second thought, like not doing it wasn’t even an option. When I panicked about losing the Pokédex, you didn’t hesitate to jump in, even if it meant running through the forest for an entire night. When I misjudged Roselia, you and Rei stepped in to hold her off. And when I—” Her face heated again. “You know… you helped me.”

She swallowed. Then, carefully, she met his gaze.

“I don’t really have words other than thank you. So that’s all you’re getting but just know I will remember this.” She finished, feeling the warmth of the blush creeping up her neck.

For a moment she looked away, before her gaze drifted back to him.

And then—

 She noticed his face.

If she thought she might be red?

Well, he was practically glowing.

“Ah—eh—uh—” He made a sound that might have been a word. Maybe.

It was strange. She was being sincere—

Which, honestly, felt embarrassing enough on its own.

Something that should have been short and simple.

But looking at him like this?

Cynthia suddenly felt like she could go on.

“You’re actually really incredible, you know,” she said, the words coming without much thought. “You were more exhausted than me, but you still managed to keep calm and help Ralts.”

 “W-Well, you know me. Exhausted is basically my natural state.” Myst stammered out, sounding completely out of his depth.

Cynthia sat down beside him.

Then, very deliberately, she leaned into his arm.

He stiffened. His face, already red, deepened to an almost comical shade.

“Still,” she murmured, her voice low, “I don’t think you realize how much I appreciate you. Honestly, you’ve been a huge help. Your knowledge is incredible and—"

As she spoke, she pressed a little closer at times, just enough to make him awkwardly tense when she did.

Really, she really did appreciate everything he’d done.

Telling him was a good thing.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this moment.

Enjoy some minor revenge.

After all, she had a feeling their next conversation wouldn’t be this much fun.

Chapter Text

“So, a human chased you… and then ordered a Pokémon to hurt you?” Myst tried for the third time, watching the small Psychic-type carefully.

Ralts raised its right hand as if to respond, only to let out a low moan of pain and instantly drop it back down.

Myst grimaced regretfully.

“Alright, new system,” Myst declared, straightening up. “You nod for yes, shake your head for no, and…” He trailed off, tapping his chin in thought. “For ‘I don’t understand,’ uh… spin around in a circle.”

Ralts stared at him.

Cynthia stared at him.

Myst lifted his hands defensively. “What? I think it could work!”

Cynthia felt her mouth quirk up before she quickly hid it behind a long-suffering sigh. “Or, and hear me out on this, Ralts just does nothing if she doesn’t understand the question.”

Myst blinked. “I mean, yeah, that could work, but we’d be missing out on her adorable pirouettes.”

“Ralts!” came the little Psychic-type’s sharp sound of disagreement.

Myst just grinned at the small Pokémon.

Failing to keep a straight face Cynthia hid her own smile… again.

Like she’d ever let Myst know she found his idiotic stunts him funny.

Honestly though, it was kind of funny, watching someone struggle to communicate with a Pokémon. Not that it was unusual, every trainer went through this phase, where nothing made sense and you had no clue what a Pokémon was trying to convey. But eventually, it became instinctual. You just understood them, even though they never spoke a single word.

Of course, they could have any of their Pokémon translate, but Cynthia figured she would tell him that when he asked for her help.

So, you know, never.

“So, let’s try again,” Myst said. “A human chased you.”

Ralts hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly.

Cynthia felt her smile fade.

“Multiple humans?”

This time, Ralts didn’t hesitate. She nodded vigorously.

Myst’s smile disappeared too.

Another question wasn’t really needed. From the looks of her previous poisoning, she had been hit with Toxic. That meant a Pokémon had to have been involved. Then again, that was never really in doubt, considering she used to have a Flygon protecting her.

But multiple humans chasing down a shiny Ralts…         

“Hunters.” Cynthia spat.

Myst stared at Ralts for a long moment before cautiously asking, “And hunters are different from trainers, I’m guessing?”

Cynthia fought the instinct to recoil. The question was so absurd, so obvious, that for a split second, she almost snapped at him. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

She shut it.

Took a breath.

Reminded herself that he just didn’t know.

Even so…

A shiver of disgust ran through her.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take that as a no,” Myst said slowly.

Cynthia managed a nod.

“Just—” She started, then stopped, exhaling sharply before trying again. “Just never ask that again, please. You sounded like one of those apologists who think what hunters do is no different from what a regular trainer does.”

“Ehm…” Myst hesitated. “Do they lump you together as equally fine or… equally bad?”

“The first one…” Cynthia said, then narrowed her eyes. “Why do you sound more worried about the second one?”

Myst paused, opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Good question… I don’t actually know. And now that you say that, I feel like the first option should be worse here, too…”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Cynthia shook her head.

“Whatever. Can we focus on the important part?” She glanced down at the spot where Ralts had been standing… or more accurately, had stood.

What?

“Ralts.”

A quiet squeak came from behind Myst.

Cynthia’s gaze snapped to him, and he floated an awkward smile under her glare.

Honestly, why was Ralts so afraid of her? Sure, she could be a little intense, but she wasn’t mean! Myst was at least as mean as she was!

More than that, Ralts was just so…

So.

Freaking.

Cute!

The fact that Myst was hogging her all to himself was unfair!

She pouted slightly as she stared down at Myst’s legs, where the small Pokémon had decided to hide.

Myst cleared his throat and spoke before she could. “Buuut yeah, you’re right, we should focus on the important part. So how about you release Roselia? We could try asking it if it knows what went down, considering Ralts here seems to have been knocked out for most of it.”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, immediately recognizing the attempted deflection. They still hadn’t asked Ralts nearly all the questions they could have…

At the same time, she understood.

Ralts wasn’t exactly in tip-top condition after all.

Still… she glanced down at her side, where Roselia’s Poké Ball was properly minimized. There was a reason she hadn’t released it.

While getting help from a Pokémon Center was the fastest way to get a Pokémon back to full strength, a long night’s rest worked just as well. That didn’t change even if Roselia stayed inside her Poké Ball, the Pokémon would still recover fully.

So when she released it?

It would be at full strength.

And probably pissed.

Her eyes flicked to Ralts, who was doing a poor job of hiding the way its right hand trembled.

“Okay, but let’s be ready first,” Cynthia said. “Queenie!”

She released Riolu from another Poké Ball in the same motion.

Riolu materialized in a flash of red light, landing gracefully, while Queenie perked up from her spot, tail flicking in eager anticipation. She looked more than happy that something was finally happening.

Myst motioned for Rei to come closer before crouching down to meet Ralts at eye level.

“Ralts, can you help us calm down Roselia too? We just want to ask it a few questions.”

Ralts nodded seriously, squaring its almost nonexistent shoulders and letting out a cry of fierce determination.

So cute.

Cynthia had to physically rip her gaze away from the tiny Pokémon before she got completely derailed. Instead, she grabbed Roselia’s Poké Ball and took a steadying breath.

“Ready?”

“I mean, obviously.” Myst replied.

Through a force of will that was, in Cynthia’s humble opinion, unparalleled, she resisted rolling her eyes. Then she opened the Poké Ball.

And several things happened at once.

First—Roselia materialized in a red glow, caught sight of Ralts standing next to Myst, and immediately fired off a storm of Poison Stings.

Second—Queenie’s claw smashed into Roselia’s bouquet-like arms, forcing the poisonous needles to scatter harmlessly into the ground.

Third—Rei slammed into Roselia feet first, pinning it instantly with an almost unfair combination of legs, arms, and ears acting as locks.

“Ro—” The Grass-Poison type began, sounding thoroughly outraged.

But before it could even finish, Ralts spoke up.

“Ralts!”

Roselia froze, its furious glare faltering as it locked eyes with the small Pokémon. A low, guttural growl rumbled from Roselia’s throat, more frustration than speech.

Ralts simply raised its right hand.

“Ra-ralts.”

For a moment, the two Pokémon simply stared at one another in silence, the tension hanging heavy between them. Then, with a reluctant glance up towards Rei, Roselia’s shoulders slumped. It sighed, lowering its bouquet-like hands in surrender.

“Roseelia,” it muttered, as if it had said all it needed to.

“Bunn-bunneary.” Rei said, turning her hand towards Myst.

He smiled at his partners words, throwing a hidden thumbs up her way.

“Sure, if Roselia promises to behave, then we can let him go.”

Cynthia noted the pronoun. Male.

Not that there was any doubt. Only a boy would be stupid enough to taunt the one chasing him while carrying life-saving aid.

Rei released her hold and, with a couple of quick hops, landed beside Myst, snorting in disdain.

Roselia rose gracefully, shaking the dirt from his grassy body before flicking his red scarf over his shoulder with practiced ease.

Then, before anyone could react, he smiled, a slow, knowing expression, and dipped into an exaggerated bow, all charm and mock civility, as if humouring a particularly irritable noblewoman.

Rei just stared.

Undeterred, and perhaps unaware of his own limits, Roselia conjured a flower with a flourish and stepped toward her, offering it with a too-perfect smile.

“Roselia.”

Riolu growled in annoyance at the sight, but before he could do anything stupid, Rei had already picked up the flower and thrown it over her shoulder.

Roselia blinked.

Took a step back.

His confident smile faltered as Rei’s ear turned a deep red.

Quickly, he spun toward Ralts, looking for backup.

Ralts just stared at him, unimpressed.

“Ralts.”

Cynthia didn’t need to speak Pokémon to understand that.

In the end, it was Myst who stepped in, just before the room turned into a crime scene.

“You can’t murder him yet Rei, we still need him to play twenty questions” he said, taking a hurried step in front of his partner, effectively blocking Rei’s line of sight to her soon-to-be victim.

Rei snorted but made no further move, and, as the deep red colour on her ear faded, Roselia let out a quiet sigh of relief.

That relief lasted exactly until the twentieth question, when Roselia finally realized they hadn’t meant literally twenty questions.

….

“So they don’t have a trainer, or at least, they don’t feel like they do. No idea how they got here. Just woke up a couple of months ago with no real memories. Wandered around before finding each other after a few weeks. They knew they knew each other from before, but don’t remember how. Flygon was their leader, but got…” Myst paused, grimacing. “Hurt in a confrontation with a Pokémon hunter and their team.”

He finished, leaning against the rough cave wall.

Cynthia pursed her lips, glancing toward the hole leading back into the main chamber. They had stepped out once the scent of Flygon’s decomposing body had finally started to hit them. Honestly, she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact it was gone. The aura it had given off even dead….

According to Ralts, Flygon had been strong. Strong enough to scare off the largest Vigoroth flock in the forest. Strong enough that the Slacking ruling that flock had been an easy fight.

That might put it on the level of something like Mommy Lopunny, a Pokémon which felt like it could be on an Elite Four team.

So whoever had taken it down?

Not amateurs.

But strangely, that wasn’t what bothered her most.

Her gaze turned back to Myst, “Doesn’t their situation remind you of anything?”

The moment the words left her mouth, she saw it.

He shifted, posture tensing slightly.

“You’re trying to say it’s similar to my situation right?” he asked quietly. “If Roselia understood what we meant when explaining months right… then they woke up right around the same time I did.”

Cynthia nodded, watching him carefully. Myst had always been an odd case, but mostly because of his knowledge. People getting lost in the forest? Even losing their memories? It wasn’t common, but it did happen. In places like Kanto or Johto, where Pokémon like Hypno were more common, it was practically an annual event.

But those people didn’t usually wake up with knowledge that seemed… out of this world.

“They could’ve ended up here for the same reason you did,” Cynthia said softly, her words careful. “Maybe even from the same place.”

Myst’s hands tightened further, his expression hardening. It was something they hadn’t really talked about, mostly because he kept avoiding the topic like a plague.

And honestly? She got it.

It had to be painful, knowing you had a past, maybe even a family, but not remembering any of it. But that didn’t change the fact that they needed to talk about it. Especially now.

Maybe she could’ve let it slide if he were an isolated case. But with Flygon, Roselia, and Ralts seeming to share the same condition?

If there was a Pokémon taking memories and dumping them in Eterna Forest, people needed to know.

“I don’t know, okay?” Myst exhaled sharply. “I agree, their situation sounds similar, but they still remember knowing each other. I don’t.”

“What about when you woke up, was there—” Cynthia tried.

Myst cut her off. “Cynthia, you don’t get it. There is nothing. I woke up in a cave, spent weeks thinking this world was a dream, then panicked when I realized it was real.” His hands ran through his hair roughly, his eyes briefly squeezing shut. “It’s weird. Facts, skills, knowledge, I have that.” He let out a bitter laugh, a sound that didn’t seem to fit him at all. “But people? Memories of who I was?”

His nails dug into his arms.

“I don’t have anything that matters.”

Cynthia swallowed, staring at him.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, his voice tight.

She tried to look away, but somehow, she just couldn’t.

In the end Myst was the one who looked away.

Neither said anything for what felt like an hour, before Myst continuing in a low voice.

“I just don’t see point in speculating, Cynthia. I don’t have any answers. No matter how much we go in circles, it’ll always be ‘I don’t know.’ If you want to figure out why this is happening, it’s not going to happen through me suddenly remembering something.”

He tried for a smile.

It didn’t reach his eyes.

Cynthia felt her stomach sink at his expression. She forced a smile back, scrambling for something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

But nothing came.

In the end, she bit her lip, feeling like a complete idiot. She had known he didn’t like talking about it, but for some reason, she kept forgetting that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it, it was that he couldn’t.

So the silence between them stretched uncomfortably, thick and awkward.

Eventually Myst shifted against the cave wall and opened his mouth. Though his voice was just a little too stiff to be natural. “How did the hunter even find Ralts?”

Cynthia paused, trying to pull herself together before answering slowly. “Probably someone saw it and bragged in town. That’s how these things usually happen.”

At that, Myst blinked, looking almost confused. “What?”

“What?”

Cynthia furrowed her brows, “What do you mean, ‘what’? That’s just how these things go. People see a rare Pokémon, and then the hunters show up to try and capture it.”

“No, I mean…” Myst trailed off for a moment, his tone slower, more deliberate. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd? Ralts don’t naturally live in Eterna Forest, and shiny Pokémon are rare. I’ve been here for months, and the only shiny I’ve seen Lopunny. If just one person came out of Eterna claiming they saw a shiny Ralts, I wouldn’t think there was a wild one just hanging around. I’d think they were crazy.”

Cynthia paused. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her eyes widened. “That—”

She stopped herself, the gears clicking into place.

“You think multiple people saw her?” She blinked at him, realization flooding in. “No, you’re right. Multiple people had to have seen her.”

“One person saying something crazy? Normal. Five or ten? Someone would take an interest. I mean, it’s a shiny Ralts.” He paused, looking uncertain. “Of course, I don’t know how many people just wander into the forest, but…”

Cynthia picked up where he left off, her mind racing. “No, you’re right. Most people just stick to the routes. One trainer spotting the Ralts deep in the forest? That could happen. But for a whole professional hunter party to gather? No way, it was just one or two. It means we probably aren’t far from the route, which means—”

Myst finished for her, “We might not be far from help.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

Then, in sync, they rushed toward the larger chamber.

…………

Elena Joy wasn’t going to lie, being assigned to Eterna City?

It sucked.

Honestly, calling it a city was a stretch. Compared to her hometown, it was more of a glorified village. Then again, maybe that was just Sinnoh as a whole. For all the talk about integrating into the Pokémon League, the entire region felt downright rural compared to Johto.

Even Jubilife, Sinnoh’s so-called biggest city, barely held a candle to Ecruteak, never mind Goldenrod.

And to make things worse? Nothing ever happened here.

When she’d signed up for the exchange program, she imagined adventure, new region, new people, exciting experiences. Instead, she was stuck behind the counter of a building that had to be at least twenty million years old. Everything here was just... worse. The food was bland, the weather was perpetually dreary, and the trainers?

Utterly unimpressive.

She let out a sigh and let her face fall onto the counter.

The Gym?

Sure, it was fun… the first time she watched a battle. After that? It didn’t take long to realize that Sinnoh’s League didn’t even come close to Johto’s. The Gym Leader was strong enough, sure, but the challengers?

Honestly, if she saw one more person try to take down Benkara’s Tropius with Water Gun, she was going to lose it.

She knew she was probably being unfair, Eterna’s Gym were most people’s first or second badge, while Goldenrod had a mandatory three-badge requirement.

Didn’t change the fact that life sucked.

Sometimes, she wished that a dashing guy would walk through the door, look at her, and whisk her away on an adventure. She’d heard stories of Joys who left the family profession, changed their names, and became trainers...

But she wasn’t going to lie to herself. This was her dream, helping people, healing Pokémon.

It was just that right now?

There was nobody to help.

The low chime of the Pokémon Center’s wooden door opening reached her ears, but she didn’t bother raising her head.

She had at least ten seconds before the newcomer could actually see her, thanks to the ridiculous way the place was laid out.

Whoever designed this building deserved to be shot.

…Or maybe given a raise, Elena couldn’t never quite decide.

Still, as the ten-second mark approached, she sighed and lifted her head, brushing her newly dyed platinum-blond hair, out of her eyes. Plastering on her best customer-service smile, she prepared for the usual routine.

She heard them round the corner and spoke before they even came into view.

“Hello, do yo—”

Elena stared.

Most trainers who arrived from Route 205 looked vaguely like they had struggled… maybe. Sure, Eterna Forest was huge and frankly terrifying, but the route itself?

A cakewalk.

It was, after all, one of the most heavily patrolled routes in the region, with Rangers stationed everywhere. That was part of what made this assignment so much more boring than she’d expected.

After all, without a little danger… who was she supposed to heal?

So most trainers arrived looking like they had gone camping.

These two?

Well, of the two the blond looked better.

That wasn’t saying much.

The girl looked like she’d been dragged backward through a thicket and then casually tossed into a ditch for good measure. Her clothes were streaked with dirt, her once-white shirt now sporting enough black spots to make a Ledian jealous. Twigs and leaves clung stubbornly to her wild, frizzy hair, which had turned into an untameable mess that even Elena cringed at the thought of fixing. It would’ve been bad enough if her hair only reached her shoulders, but it was mid-back. Honestly, at this point, she might have been better off cutting most of it off.

The disarray of her appearance made the dark smudges under her eyes and the bruises on her arms look almost trivial by comparison.

Still, under normal circumstances, the girl’s sorry state would still have been enough to fast-track her, and whatever Pokémon she had left, straight into the healing wing.

But then there was the boy standing next to her.

Elena felt her stomach drop as she scanned him up and down. Even hunched over, he was tall, probably around a hundred and ninety centimetres.

That probably had just made things worse.

Severe malnutrition.

His ribs weren’t just visible, they were pronounced, each bone sticking out as if his body was too starved to even hold onto its own structure. His arms were too thin too, with veins that stood out sharply. He was clearly lacking in muscle mass, likely from prolonged undernutrition. The pale, ashen hue to his skin told her there was a lack of proper hydration and likely some electrolyte imbalance as well.

His eyes, sunken, with dark bags beneath them, spoke of exhaustion, but also a lack of vitamins, possibly iron. The bruises scattered across his arms, she suspected, weren’t just from external trauma, they were probably a sign of weakened capillaries and poor circulation.

She opened her mouth, but words didn’t come out. Glancing down at her arms, she realized she was shaking slightly.

She had wanted something to happen, some excitement.

But this?

What a horrible day for the head nurse to be out of town.

Too busy trying to figure out what the protocol for this was, she almost didn’t notice when the boy walked up to her, leaning easily over the counter like he wasn’t a hair’s breadth from an early grave, and looked her dead in the eye.

“You know, you should be careful about working here. I’ve heard theories that the Joy clan are Pokémon-human hybrids, who knows what they might do to get someone like you into the family?” he joked.

Elena flushed red.

“Your entire family is a Pokémon hybrid!”

The blond girl in the back facepalmed.

The Bunneary on her right side facepalmed.

The shiny Ralts on her left facepalmed.

Elena paused for a second, cold dread forming in her stomach, realizing she just screamed at somebody who desperately needed help.

She opened her mouth, about to apologize, when her brain registered what her eyes had just seen.

“There actually was a shiny Ralts in Eterna?”

The boy grinned.

Chapter Text

It felt odd.

The bed.

The light.

The sounds.

For months, he had slept on the ground, lived under open skies, and listened only to the rustling of leaves and the calls of birds.

Well, birds and rabbits, he supposed.

Actually, lately, he could even add landsharks and jackals to that list.

He paused.

Yeah… the fact that Queenie wasn’t nicknamed Jeff felt like a missed opportunity. He wasn’t even sure why, but he knew he’d have to find a way to convince Cynthia of that someday.

What kind of nickname was Queenie even?

It didn’t even seem to fit the Gabite. Half the time, she was either sprawled out in the sun like a sunbathing lizard or watching Cynthia with that odd, knowing stare, like she was silently judging her trainer’s life choices.

Queenie was powerful, sure, but majestic?

He wasn’t seeing it.

That train of thought was almost enough to distract him from the low, rhythmic beep of the machine beside him.

Almost.

He shifted, watching the blonde nurse frown as she struggled to insert a needle into his arm. The artificiality of it all pressed in on him, the too-clean air, the hum of fluorescent lights, the way everything smelled vaguely of antiseptic.

It should have felt familiar.

But everything was just… off.

Which was weird, because he was almost certain this was how things were supposed to be.

“You sure you don’t need help? I have a few tips.” He grinned, his voice light.

Elena ignored him, her entire focus locked onto his arm as she tried, again, to locate a vein. Half a dozen failed attempts already dotted his skin, each one making her more visibly frustrated. Honestly, he didn’t mind. She’d already explained that the head nurse, the one who was supposed to be helping her, was out.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take some revenge for the repeated stabbing of his arm.

“I’ve heard rumors, you know.” He smirked. “Pointy end goes into the vein.”

Elena’s shoulders tensed. Slowly, she lifted her head, shooting him a glare that would’ve been a lot more intimidating if her face wasn’t so flushed with frustration. It was hilarious, really, the way she kept switching between trying to be professional and fighting the urge to strangle him.

He figured her was honestly doing her a favour. After all, you couldn’t be a nurse without thick skin.

She took a deep breath, visibly reining in her temper, and managed to choke out her next words.

“Please. Just be quiet.”

Beside her, the Chansey let out a chirp of agreement, glaring at him with as much authority as a pink puffball could muster.

He shrugged, just as Elena missed his vein again, her face flushing even redder.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean—” He began, but she cut him off.

“Yeah, sure.” She cut him off, barely suppressing her irritation. “Can you please just stay still now?”

He felt a twinge of regret at her reaction.

But only a twinge.

“Of course, of course.” His grin softened. “Wouldn’t want to make your job any harder than it already is.”

Elena huffed, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push it. The Chansey beside her let out an actual sigh. Impressive for a Pokémon that mostly just chirped and cooed. He half-expected it to cross its tiny arms in disapproval.

Or well, if it could cross them.

It took Elena two more tries before she finally got it right. When she did, she let out a relieved sigh before stepping back. Then, without a word, she darted over to a nearby textbook, the same one she’d cracked open before starting.

She started muttering under her breath.

Seeing her distracted, he glanced around the room. It was odd, not having Cynthia in sight. Even odder not having Rei around.

“You know where Cynthia and the Buneary went?” he tried.

Elena barely glanced up. “Who… oh, you mean the blonde girl? She got a room to wash up.”

That was weird.

Not Cynthia washing up, honestly, he couldn’t knock her for that, considering he’d already taken his own shower, but the fact that neither she nor Rei were just around. Or well, Cynthia could probably use some time to decompress or something, but Rei?

Rei didn’t just leave him alone.

Not after the first time she did.

His side twitched in pain, the phantom sting of a Nincada’s Scratch flaring up, the one that had nearly disembowelled him.

He forced himself to smile, just to keep from grimacing.

Elena, thankfully, didn’t notice his arm snapping to his side.

“Okay, okay,” she said, straightening up from her book. “I think you should be good. I’ll go check up on your friend, okay? In the meantime, how about you finally get started on the egg?”

She motioned his side.

Right.

The egg.

His gaze drifted to the cabinet by the bed, where a large egg had been placed moments after he arrived. It had come more or less directly from the empty pouch that Chansey carried, and he had hoped, no, prayed, that he wouldn’t have to eat it.

Not that he had anything against eggs, but, somehow, he’d imagined his malnourished condition would exempt him from consuming the gigantic thing. With a wary eye, he turned back to Elena, who was now raising an eyebrow at his hesitation.

“Ehm… I’ve heard that people who haven’t eaten much should mostly be fed through easy-to-digest food and, uh, the IV?” he tried.

Elena smiled gently. “Don’t worry, a Chansey egg isn’t like traditional food. You might feel a little full, but you won’t have any problem eating all of it.”

All of it?

His gaze flicked back to the egg, which was about the size of his head. When she didn’t answer, he turned back to her, only to see her already heading for the door. At the last second, she paused, glancing over her shoulder with a shrug.

“I mean, I can’t force you… but well, you wouldn’t want to make my job any harder than it has to be… right?”

And with that, she walked out, leaving him alone with the egg.

He turned back to it.

Then towards Chansey.

“You know I think I officially blame you for this.”

He cracked a smile as the pink ball responded with complete outrage.

……

It felt odd.

Back in the forest, time had stretched. Days felt endless, a steady rhythm of things that needed doing, but never rushed. Maybe that was just because it had mostly been the two of them, no distractions, no outside world to keep up with. Everything had fallen into a slow, almost timeless pace.

After arriving here?

Two days had passed in a blur, the sun dipping below the horizon faster than he could process. Even stuck in a hospital bed, there was always something to do, something to distract him.

“Myst, you listening?”

Cynthia’s voice felt like it was a million miles away.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered, though his gaze stayed locked on the street below.

When they’d arrived, he hadn’t noticed. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he’d been too focused on getting to the Pokémon Center, on making sure Ralts was safe.

But now?

Now, he saw it.

There were just so many people.

Logically, he had always known humans existed. It was knowledge he’d woken up with, as natural as breathing. If Pokémon were real, then, of course, there were humans who trained them.

But after months in the wilderness, never seeing another soul?

He had almost forgotten he wasn’t the only person in the world.

“Myst.” Cynthia sighed, apparently noticing that no, he was in fact not paying attention.

Shaking himself out of it, he turned back to her and immediately had to fight the urge not to stare.

It was harder than it sounded.

Mostly because Cynthia was just that pretty. Even after seeing so many people in the last couple of days, she was still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a high bar, all things considered…

But still.

He had always kind of thought she was pretty, but it was hard to tell when someone had spent the better part of a week looking like they’d been through a natural disaster. After all, ever since they’d met, she had been in various states of not great. She’d gone from looking like a half-drowned rat to a half-drowned rat that had been run over by a car, then splashed with mud for good measure…

Yeah, the metaphor was getting away from him.

"Sorry, Cynthia," he said, shaking his head. "My brain’s just—" He lifted a hand beside his temple and mimed an explosion, exaggerating it for comedic effect. "Boom. Turns out it doesn’t handle actual comfort well."

She rolled her eyes.

But he saw it, the way the corner of her lips twitched, how she fought to hold back a smirk. That small, almost imperceptible change in her expression sent something warm curling in his chest. His grin widened, and for a brief second, he let the feeling linger.

Not that this victory mattered much.

What mattered was that she was two steps behind him. He already knew she found him funny, so the more she tried to hide it? Well, admitting to it wouldn’t change anything, but it would make the entire thing less of a challenge.

And less fun for it.

"Honestly, Myst, this is important," Cynthia said, exasperated. "The authorities responsible for cases like this are arriving today, and we need to figure out how we’re going to explain you to them. We don’t even know what region you’re from! What if they check your face and you turn out to be some missing rich kid from Johto?"

From behind, Elena snorted.

“Yeah, not likely.”

Cynthia spun around in her chair, grey eyes darkening like storm clouds as she fixed Elena with a glare.

“And why not?” she challenged. “He’s lost his memory, but he still knows a lot of things. Some of it would actually make a lot of sense if he was from Jo—”

“But he isn’t,” Elena interrupted. “Doesn’t have the accent, the looks, or even the mannerisms.”

He raised a hand, feeling like he probably should have listened to what she had been saying before. "Does it really even matter where I come from?"

They both paused at that, giving him that look, the one that said they couldn’t quite believe he didn’t understand something so basic.

"Yeah, it does matter," Cynthia muttered under her breath. "A lot. If you're from one of the three regions in the Pokémon League, we have treaties, information-sharing agreements, cooperative relationships. But if you're from Unova or Galar or something? Well…" She trailed off, tilting her head slightly. "Sinnoh wouldn’t have any way to check, because we don’t have diplomatic channels with them yet."

He frowned. "Wouldn’t a cooperative relationship make things easier? Like, they could actually find out if I have a family?"

Not that he thought they would.

It wasn’t for any specific reason. Just… instinct.

“Eh…” Cynthia opened her mouth, then promptly shut it again, lips flapping uselessly like a dying fish.

Oh.

He grinned.

"You don’t want me to find my parents?" He gasped dramatically. "My family?"

Elena rolled her eyes behind Cynthia, but for once, it seemed like Cynthia didn’t immediately see through his games.

“NO! I mean—of course finding your family would be great! It’s just that—” She huffed. “You’d be deported. And it’d be a huge pain to figure out how to get the documents needed to take Buneary with you, and—”

She froze. Her eyes narrowed.

He grinned.

Another easy win.

Cynthia huffed at his expression, looking away.

But he let the grin slip away as he thought over his own feelings for a moment. Did he actually want to know? He should, right? His fingers curled into the fabric of his bedding. Instinct told him it didn’t matter. If he had a family, they weren’t looking for him. Or maybe it was more accurate to say they couldn’t look for him.

That should’ve made him sad, but… it didn’t.

It felt like the truth, and that was it.

When she turned back to him, he couldn’t help letting the grin return. Her face was still red.

"Ohhh," he drawled. "I see how it is."

"No, you don’t see how it is," Cynthia snapped, her face deepening in colour.

He opened his mouth, ready to push her just a little further—

"Oh, shit."

Elena suddenly bolted upright.

Then, without another word, she took off in a dead sprint out the door.

He blinked. Cynthia turned, her blush already forgotten.

"Huh?" they echoed at the same time.

He frowned, glancing at the door left swinging open. "Did she just remember she left the stove on or something?"

Cynthia sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Whatever it was, I guess it’s for the better. We need to discuss the actual important parts anyway."

“What do you mean important parts; my family isn’t important enough for you?” He said, trying for another hurt look.

This time, Cynthia didn’t take the bait. Instead, her expression turned serious, and her voice dropped into a lower tone.

"The parts with Ralts, Roselia… and Flygon. What we should tell the rangers."

Right.

He had really tried not to think about that, throwing it into the back of his mind… Even so, he could easily admit to himself that he didn’t see the problem, or the need for secrecy.

"We just tell them the truth, no? That we buried Flygon, that we brought Ralts here to get healing after saving her. It’s not like we have information on the hunters. We tried our best to help, I don’t think they can fault us on that.” He paused, “Also, why are the Rangers handling this? Wouldn’t this be a police thing?"

Cynthia absently traced the Pokéballs at her side. "No. Police don’t have jurisdiction."

He waited for her to elaborate, but she just kept staring past him, brows furrowed.

Seconds stretched.

Her expression had turned thoughtful, distant. It took effort not to snap her out of it, but he reminded himself that she probably deserved the moment. Considering everything she’d been doing for him these past few days, while he was stuck in a hospital bed, it only seemed fair.

Then, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Do you think the Rangers might be in on it?"

He blinked.

Then blinked again.

"What?"

She pursed her lips. "I didn’t actually know, but according to Elena, Route 205 is the most heavily patrolled route in the region. And yet, a whole party of Hunters had a huge battle right next to it, and nobody noticed?" Her fingers curled. "That seems… wrong."

He raised an eyebrow. "So… what? You’re saying the Rangers let this happen?"

Cynthia exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "No, I’m saying that either they missed something they really shouldn't have, or—" She hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line. "Or someone looked the other way. Maybe, I don’t know…"

She trailed off.

That was…

He leaned back, processing. "You really think someone might be covering for the Hunters?"

"I don’t know," Cynthia admitted. "But it doesn’t add up. Rangers are trained for this. Their Pokémon listens for disturbances. A battle like that, one that ended in Flygon’s death? That should have drawn attention. We shouldn’t have been the ones to find it."

He raised an eyebrow. "You’re assuming the fight took place close to the cave, though. What if it was deeper in the forest?"

Cynthia nodded slowly, considering his words. "Yeah, but we talked about it before right? That for Ralts to draw enough attention, she would have had to be pretty close to the route, especially since she seemed to be semi-common knowledge around here. Even Elena knew about her, and she’s just the intern Joy. Of course, I might be overthinking this. Maybe the battle happened really deep. Maybe they are just going ask us where we buried Flygon so they can examine the body, but…" She trailed off, her face pinching with frustration.

She grimaced. "Sinnoh..." The word hung in the air, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should.

He blinked.

That was far from how Cynthia usually sounded when she talked about the region. Usually, she'd brag about it or talk herself sore when he asked about its history, but…

She had never really talked about how it was doing right now had she?

He hadn’t asked, of course, hadn't even thought to, but now, looking at her, the way her eyes darkened with that unspoken frustration, he had a feeling Sinnoh wasn’t in the best shape.
Coupled with the way her mind immediately jumped to the Rangers being in on it?

“Eh, should I be worried?”

Cynthia blinked, snapping out of her little moment. “No! I mean… I was just speculating... but still… just be careful okay.”

“I mean, have you ever seen me not be careful?” He raised an eyebrow, grinning.

For some reason his words did not seem to inspire much confidence.

Weird.

Honestly, he was the very peak of carefulness…

Cynthia shot him a look.

He raised a finger, then paused.

Well, you had to ignored that time he tanked a blow for her…

Or when he decided to wander off into the forest alone…

Or that time he…

He lowered his finger slowly.

“Okay, maybe you have a point. But it’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Cynthia didn’t miss a beat. “They throw you out of the region for not having a legal identity.”

He stared at her. “That can happen?”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “It could, but it’s unlikely. Honestly, the ranger who’s going to talk to us about it probably couldn’t do anything under normal circumstances. But your situation doesn’t exactly fall under normal circumstances does it? I don’t know how much sway the rangers have right now, or what they can do to you, but historically, they’ve been key consultants in determining more regular citizenship.”

She paused, giving him a pointed look. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. To be a little more personable.”

He pursed his lips.

“But that’s no fun.”

Cynthia threw her hands up in the air.

….

It was odd.

It felt right.

He raised his hand, letting his eyes drift over the paper one final time.

"Citizen Registration for Special Circumstances" was boldly printed in red text across the top.

"Taking your sweet time, I see. You don’t have all day, y’know. Registration for the Gym circuit ends today if you plan on tagging along with your little girlfriend this season." The official’s voice was lazy, his chair creaking as he leaned back.

He flashed a grin, twirling the pen in his fingers, a motion that just a week ago would have been impossible.

"Just double-checking," he replied, his gaze lingering on the last section left blank.

Full Name.

His pen hovered in the air for another split second.

Then, slowly, he began to write.

Chapter Text

“So, I suppose your stray from the forest is off finalizing their citizen registration?”

Cynthia nodded absentmindedly, trying to stay engaged while filling out the report, if she didn’t do it properly, it’d just get dismissed.

“Yeah, eh—” She hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Was "Eterna Forest" specific enough for the location field, or should she put "Heart of Eterna Forest" instead?

“Yeah what?” Her grandmother’s voice cut in, eyebrow raised.

Cynthia blinked, refocusing on the minimized video call in the corner of the screen. Her grandmother’s grainy face stared back, expectant. She scrambled to recall what had just been asked, but her mind came up blank.

A sigh.

The heavy, disappointed kind. “I see. You’re distracted, aren’t you?” Her grandmother shook her head. “Honestly, what happened to the little girl who used to hang onto my every word?” Another sigh, somehow even heavier. “And after I did you such a huge favor. Where’s my appreciation, huh? Young people these days, no respect for their elders.”

“Grandma.” Cynthia started.

Only to be cut off, “Honestly, after all the connections I had to pull, you’d think I’d get a few words of praise. But I suppose I expected too much.”

She waited a beat, opened her mouth and—

“Too busy with your new friend to care about the one who raised you with such care.”

Cynthia stared blankly at the screen and her grandmother paused, likely recognizing that look on her face.

“Oh? You don’t agree?”

“Grandma, I called you yesterday to thank you.”

“A single call for such a favour?” Her grandmother arched an eyebrow.

“There were three calls,” Cynthia stressed.

No reaction.

“Only words?”

“I sent chocolates!”

Her grandmother paused.

“Well, I suppose you did do that.” She shrugged helplessly, as if it were completely unreasonable to expect her to remember such a thing. “But really, there’s no harm in saying it a few more times, is there? It was, after all, quite the favour.”

Her face was grave, but Cynthia had eyes.

Eyes that could see.

And her grandmother’s twitching mouth was not hidden from them.

Cynthia sighed. She loved her grandmother, truly, she did. After her parents passed, she and her little sister were all she had… but why did she have to be so childish?

“Well then, what were you doing that was so important it distracted you, dear?” Her grandmother’s voice was laced with amusement.

Cynthia glanced back at the document.

Sanctuary Damage Report (Civilian)

And just like that, the familiar anger bubbled up again. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding.

The burning embarrassment kept her awake at night. Even her nightmares contained the look on Myst’s face when he realized the thing she had bragged about, the significant discovery she’d been so proud of, was just some idiot defacing a Pokémon Sanctuary.

Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration.

But the point stood.

Whoever did this? They needed to see justice.

“Nothing,” she muttered, unwilling to explain.

“That doesn’t look like nothing. Did that first official trouble you that much?” Her grandmother leaned back in her chair.

Cynthia paused, blanking for a moment.

The official?

Oh.

Yeah, she had ranted about that. How the first meeting between Myst and the official had gone… poorly. Of course, some of the blame rested on Myst, but honestly?

She didn’t blame him. That guy had been a complete—

She paused, searching for the right words…

Jerk.

Actually no, he didn’t deserve the self-censoring.

He had been a dick.

Even she had wanted to punch him for the way he talked down to Myst… and that hadn’t even been the worst part.

No, the worst part had been the realization.

The sudden, sickening horror that if she hadn’t been able to call her grandmother, who had pulled a few strings to get a new official, Myst might have actually been deported.

Deported because he didn’t know who the current Champion was.

An amnesiac, deported for failing a general knowledge question.

Now, should he have answered that the current champion might as well be a sloth, for all that they seemed to be doing for the region?

No.

No, he should not have.

But the fact that others in his situation, others without the luxury of pulling strings, might face the same fate left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her grandmother expression shifted to something more concerned, and before she could begin to dig Cynthia hurriedly opened her mouth.

“It’s fine, Grandma, I just—”

The door slammed open.

“Cynthia! You are now looking at the newest, and, honestly, most handsome, citizen in Sinnoh.”

Myst stood there, looking way too proud of himself.

Cynthia just stared, her brain failing to process the fact that he had just burst into her private booth. How did he even know which one was hers? Had he just tried them all—

“I thought you said your friend was a girl, Cynthia.”

Her grandmother’s voice rang out from the screen.

Oh.

Oh no.

It sounded way too hungry.

Cynthia whipped back around.

“Oh-it-was-a-great-call-say-hi-to-Lily-for-me-okay-bye.”

“Wa—” Her grandmother’s voice cut off as Cynthia slammed the call shut, clicking the disconnect button half a dozen times like that would somehow make it faster.

For a long second, the only sound was the distant hum of the terminal.

Myst raised a finger.

“You told her I was a girl.”

Cynthia stared blankly at the now-black screen.

Doomed.

So utterly, helplessly doomed.

………………

She was behind schedule.

One and a half weeks, to be exact. And that number would only grow the longer she put off challenging the Gym.

Most of that time had been spent in the forest, with the rest spent helping Myst with his citizenship issues. She didn’t regret any of it, not really. She owed him, after all, and helping him was the least she could do.

But it also meant she hadn’t had time to train her Pokémon as much as she was used to.

Hadn’t finished preparing for the Gym.

Hadn’t even figured out what to do with Roselia…

Of course, she knew what she wanted to happen there. Roselia might be a menace, and more than a little annoying, but he was also strong.

Talented.

More than that, he was something she lacked, an unconventional fighter. Someone who didn’t fight like a bruiser or martial artist, but with tricks.

So, she hoped he would join her team.

It was just she wasn’t sure he wanted to join.

Cynthia pursed her lips, tearing her eyes away from the Pokéball where Roselia rested, and glanced over at Myst, who was locked in a staring contest with Ralts.

She sighed.

“You still trying for telepathic communication?” she asked.

He didn’t react, still locked in his staring contest with the tiny Psychic-type.

“It’s fine if you just want to talk to her, but you do know Pokémon can’t do that in the middle of battle, right? It requires way too much concentration.”

He paused.

“I thought Ralts maybe had the ability Telepathy?”

Cynthia stared at him, then shifted her gaze to the small Pokémon. Of course, Ralts had the ability to communicate telepathically; it was practically a given for every Psychic-type. But the way he said it…

“What’s Telepathy?”

Myst flicked his eyes over to her. “Ralts’s hidden ability.”

Cynthia mouthed “hidden ability” to herself. They made sense on their own. Obviously, she knew what an ability was. It had become widely accepted ten to twenty years ago, and every Pokémon had one, like Riolu’s Steadfast, which made it faster every time it Flinched, or Queenie’s Sand Veil, helping her blend into the environment during a Sandstorm.

Some Pokémon even had two possible abilities, though the one not activated often lay dormant, requiring extra training to bring it to life.

But a hidden ability?

She had never heard of that.

She stared at Myst… who seemed to slowly realize he was saying something she found outrageous again.

Then, slowly, Myst took a step back, raising his hands in defence.

“OK, I see your eyes.” He began, like he was talking to a hungry animal. “No need to look at me like you want to crack open my skull and drink my brains.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes.

“You know what I want to ask.”

“Yeah, sort of figured out I said something weird again.” He scratched the back of his neck. “So, lay it on me. Hidden abilities, do they exist or not?”

“I mean, I haven’t heard of them, but that doesn’t seem to matter much now, does it?” Cynthia said, then sighed.

Usually, she was the one with all the obscure, weird Pokémon knowledge. Through hours of study, she’d managed to memorize the abilities of hundreds of Pokémon. That wasn’t common, most people barely even knew what abilities their own Pokémon had, let alone those from other regions.

Compared to Myst though?

She sighed again.

Whatever.

It was just another thing to keep in mind. Maybe he’d even be wrong this time, and they would find out Pokémon didn’t have hidden abilities.

Somehow, though, she doubted it.

“So, what do you mean by hidden abilities?” she asked. “Like, they have some sort of ability that isn’t natural, and you have to train them in very specific ways to activate it?”

He paused.

“You can activate abilities?”

“Of course,” Cynthia replied. “How else would Riolu have both Steadfast and Inner Focus?”

Myst held up a hand. “Wait, back up. Pokémon can have both of their abilities?” He asked, but before she could address it he continued, “Actually, let’s take turns. You tell me how abilities work, and I’ll tell you what I know about hidden abilities.”

Cynthia paused for a moment, then nodded, quickly organizing her thoughts. She cleared her throat and adopted her best lecture tone.

"Abilities are usually an expression of a Pokémon’s species traits," she began. "Take Lucario, for example. They’re known for having the best connection to their aura. That’s why they can have abilities like Steadfast, which uses the flinching effect on their aura to boost speed, or Inner Focus, which lets them ignore that flinch effect entirely. Rei’s ability, Run Away, works similarly, letting her channel her aura into a speed boost for quick escapes…" She shivered, half-expecting Rei’s disapproving glare to appear… then she remembered the bunny was safely tucked away in its Poké Ball.

A small relief.

She continued. "Abilities are like a Pokémon’s biology or their particular talents, expressed through their aura. Most Pokémon are born with one ability, but with training, they can unlock more."

Myst cocked his head, but said nothing.

“That’s all I know. I don’t really have any more details,” Cynthia added defensively.

Myst pursed his lips, eyes flicking toward Ralts.

"So... can you tell me what you know about hidden abilities?" she asked, gesturing toward the small Pokémon.

“They have them…” Myst paused, like he was trying to decide how to phrase it. “…Probably.”

Cynthia blinked, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“No 'and.’ That’s it,” Myst said with a shrug, an awkward smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

They stared at each other for a moment, the silence stretching between them.

“Myst,” Cynthia finally broke the stillness, her voice a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Why did you have me explain all that if you were just going to say the same thing you said earlier?”

Myst took a careful step behind Ralts, as if looking for refuge.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow, watching him with growing exasperation.

Ralts, sensing an opportunity, let out a startled yelp and darted behind Myst’s legs, seeking cover.

"Wait, why are you hiding behind me, Ralts?" Myst squeaked, his voice high-pitched with mock indignation. "You’re supposed to protect me!"

Cynthia slapped a hand to her forehead.

Honestly, why did she even help him?

…..

Cynthia released Roselia with the kind of anticipation one might feel before an important test. A thin beam of red light materialized into the Grass-type, his red scarf fluttering behind him like a cape.

Roselia blinked, quickly surveying his surroundings, the forest's edge, Cynthia's entire team assembled, and Myst standing nearby.

His gaze snapped to Queenie.

Instinct kicked in. Roselia’s hand twitched upward, energy gathering as if preparing to strike. But then, his eyes landed on Ralts.

And he hesitated.

A flicker of understanding crossed his expression, like he’d just realized this wasn’t some kind of elaborate revenge plot. Slowly, he lowered his bouquet hands, his stance easing. His gaze drifted toward the forest, shoulders loosening as a quiet relief settled over him.

Like he’d just confirmed that Cynthia was keeping her promise, if he wanted to, he was free to go.

“Roselia.” Cynthia called out.

His attention snapped back to her, sharp and wary.

Cynthia held his gaze, and for a brief moment, she had the distinct feeling that he already knew what she was about to say.

Still, she pressed on.

“We didn’t exactly start off on the best foot,” she admitted, voice measured. “And I won’t pretend we’ve had the greatest relationship. Or any, really.” She grinned lightly, before she inhaled, steadying herself. “But I’m still going to ask.”

She straightened.

“You’re strong. You’re smart. But you could be stronger, smarter. If you want, we can be partners. And I promise you, I’ll train you to be the greatest Roselia the world has ever seen.”

It came out a little stiffer than she intended, but she meant every word.

Now, it was his choice.

Silence stretched between them.

Roselia’s gaze flickered between Queenie and Rei, the two Pokémon who had manhandled him more than once. Then, he hesitated, glancing down at his bouquet hands, as if weighing his options.

Cynthia forced herself to keep still. To stay silent.

There was so much she wanted to say.

She could tell him she’d already studied everything about the Roselia line she could find. That she’d devised a training program tailored for him and even talked to Myst about his movepool. That she had a plan, a clear path to his strength, his growth, his potential.

But she held her tongue.

She could tell herself it was because she didn’t want to influence his decision. That she had said her piece, and now the choice had to be his.

But that wasn’t the real reason.

The truth was, she wanted Roselia to join her because he wanted to.

Not because she convinced him with honeyed words. Not because she promised him something so grand he couldn’t refuse.

She wanted a team she could rely on, Pokémon who chose her despite her flaws, not because of her strengths.

And honestly?

Her first words were the most honest.

She wanted to be the strongest trainer.

And the strongest trainer needed the strongest Pokémon.

Roselia took a step back.

Her heart sank, just a little.

Cynthia clenched a hand at her side, steadying herself as she watched him move towards the forest, but right before he was about to cross the line into the forest clearing Roselia stopped.

His gaze flickered to Ralts. Then to Myst.

“Roselia?” He asked.

Neither of them spoke. She had asked them to stay quiet. Maybe if Ralts said something Roselia would join her team, but that wouldn’t be the same. Ralts had chosen to join Myst on her own initiative, because she wanted to get stronger.

She wanted Roselia to want the same.

Getting no answer Roselia tore his eyes away from them and squared his shoulders. His eyes darted to Queenie, then to Riolu.

And then, with deliberate intent, he raised a hand and pointed at Riolu.

“Roselia,” he said simply.

Cynthia didn’t need to understand Pokémon speech to know what he was asking for.

A battle.

He wanted to test himself against Riolu, and without asking, Cynthia understood. Queenie was overwhelming, Cynthia had trained her since she was nine. Riolu, on the other hand?

He had only been with her for four months.

A much better representation of her qualifications as a trainer… and, almost certainly more importantly, a battle Roselia felt like he could win.

Cynthia met Riolu’s eyes.

“Riolu,” she said, a hint of challenge in her voice. “You feel like showing him what you can do?”

Riolu grinned, more than happy to put their training to the test.

With his affirmation Cynthia took a moved back, just far enough to stay clear of the action, with Queenie standing at her side. The dragon type unwilling to leave when she could get hurt by a stray attack.

“Myst, want to be the judge?” Cynthia asked, glancing at him.

Myst blinked, pointing at himself. Like there was anybody else she could be talking about.

Roselia snapped toward him, nodding quickly, like he agreed on the necessity.

“Well, if you both insists.” Myst cleared his throat, then took on an exaggeratedly stern voice. “This will be a battle between Riolu, and his trainer Cynthia, and Roselia—”

Cynthia felt herself focus in.

For one moment.

“To the death,” Myst finished, voice deadly serious.

Cynthia exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to facepalm.

Roselia turned to Ralts with an unreadable look, like he was silently questioning her life choices. Ralts, in return, practically sparkled, gazing up at Myst with absolute admiration for the ridiculous human she had chosen to follow.

Myst, still grinning, held up his hands. “Kidding. Just a normal battle. Well, one for the right of capture, I guess?”

Roselia exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but Cynthia could see the briefest hint of amusement in his eyes.

And as much as she hated to admit it, Myst had broken the tension.

She felt lighter now, steadier.

Still, she crossed her arms and shot him a flat look.

“I will take that look as a compliment.” Myst said cheerfully. Then, clearing his throat again, he gestured between them with an exaggerated sweep of his hands.

“Alright, Riolu versus Roselia! Begin!”

Roselia didn’t hesitate. The second Myst finished speaking, it lifted its arms, firing off a flurry of Poison Sting with pinpoint precision.

“Detect.”

Riolu’s eyes flashed briefly, glowing blue.

Then, like water slipping through cracks, he began moving. Twisting, contorting, slipping between the incoming needles with almost unnatural ease.

Not a single one touched him.

And he was still moving forward.

Roselia narrowed its eyes but didn’t press the attack, realizing it was useless.

But the moment Poison Sting ceased—

His body flashed white.

Between steps Riolu became a blur as Quick Attack activated in an instant. What had been a slow, deliberate walk through the Poison Sting became a white comet streaking across the battlefield.

Roselia, unfazed, flicked a hand dramatically.

Every leaf around them ripped free from their branches, glowing with a subtle green energy. For an invisible beat they simply hung in the air, before they shot forward, streaking toward Riolu like a storm of guided blades.

Cynthia mouth quirked up.

Magical Leaf was a move known for its unerring precision, colloquially known as a sure hit move. It’s reputation wasn’t without reason either, as every leaf was guided by Roselia’s will, shifting mid-flight to track its target no matter where it ran.

But that meant it relied on the caster to direct it.

“Speed up,” Cynthia called out.

Riolu yipped.

In a heartbeat, his form shifted from a blur to a shimmering silhouette.

And even as the Magical Leaf twisted mid-air to chase him—

It was too late.

Roselia’s eyes widened in disbelief—

BOOM!

Before he simply vanished.

Where Roselia once stood Riolu appeared, his Quick Attack impacting with enough force to make Roselia a green and red streak.

BOOM!

A tree exploded as he crashed straight through it, splintering on impact. He slammed into the ground, bounced once, flipped midair, and landed hard.

Riolu was already moving.

A blue streak tore across the field, covering ten meters in an instant.

That instant was enough.

Roselia shoved himself up with both hands, barely steadying himself—

But he wasn’t fast enough.

He should have been.

Cynthia frowned.

“Care—"

Her command came a beat too late.

Riolu was already there, his arm glowing an icy blue, frigid mist curling around his fist as he cocked back an Ice Punch.

Roselia looked up and grinned.

A single vine of grass snaked around Riolu’s ankle.

WHAM!

Riolu’s own momentum betrayed him, slamming him into the dirt with a deafening crack.

Roselia didn’t waste a second.

He pushed off the ground, slipping just under Riolu’s sloppy Force Palm—

Then spun back, raising both hands with a flourish—

And clapped.

A thick cloud of yellow spores burst outward, rolling across the battlefield like a smoke screen, engulfing Riolu in an instant.

Before he could react, Cynthia’s voice rang out.

“Metal Claw to get out!”

Riolu didn’t hesitate.

Through the yellow cloud of spores, Cynthia saw the faint flicker of Steel-type energy as Riolu flicked his paw to the side, slashing through the grass that had ensnared his feet.

Then a blur.

Quick Attack carried him out before the spores could take effect. Landing hard, he skidded to a stop, body tense, scanning the thick haze.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. Cynthia could almost see it, the way he was considering charging in blindly to finish Roselia off.

Cynthia didn’t let it come to that.

Not when there was a much simpler way.

“Clear the Stun Spore with an overcharged Force Palm.”

Riolu’s eyes flashed blue, his aura flaring with power as orange energy formed in both paws.

He burst into the cloud for a split second.

Then, mimicking Roselia’s earlier movement—

He clapped.

Cynthia winced as the sharp crack ripped through the battlefield, tearing apart the Stun Spore in an instant.

The cloud vanished.

And with it, Roselia’s cover.

Cynthia’s eyes flicked to her opponent and realized what he had done with the time Stun Spore had granted him.

He had charged up the largest Magical Leaf she had ever seen. The very air hummed with Grass-type energy, the leaves floating around Roselia glowing with raw, overcharged power.

Cynthia didn’t need to ask to understand how it was possible, though, she could see the telltale sign of Roselia’s aura flaring.

He had used Growth.

A cocky smile tugged at Roselia’s lips and with a flourish, he flicked his scarf over his shoulder.

“Roselia?” He taunted.

Riolu growled but held his ground.

Charging in with Quick Attack would only leave him open for a counter. And without the element of surprise like they had used earlier, evading the incoming Magical Leaf would be impossible.

Cynthia sighed.

So they’d have to use that move, the one they had practiced for the Gym battle.

Roselia chopped a hand down like an emperor issuing judgment.

A wall of Magical Leaves surged forward.

"Leaf Defense!" Cynthia called out.

Riolu smiled.

His eyes flashed blue. Metal Claw came to life, stretching into long, sharp claws.

And then—

He stood still.

And simply swung.

The battlefield transformed into a flawless display of skill.

It didn’t matter how many leaves approach or how fast they came. Riolu arms were like the arms of a clock, always in the right place at the right time. Razor-sharp leaves, each one primed to cut, were effortlessly shredded, devoured by the whirlwind of steel.

It was the perfect synergy of Detect’s omniscience and Metal Claw’s razor-sharp precision, a special defensive move Cynthia had used weeks to perfect in preparation for her gym challenge.

The only one she had time to finish.

It was more than enough.

Roselia stared blankly as his attack was simply eaten up.

It staggered slightly, body sagging after the attack.

Then, as if suddenly remembering he was in a battle, Roselia hurriedly fired off a Poison Sting—

It was too late.

A blue fist smashed into Roselias face as the Poison Sting was forced wide.

Cynthia didn’t even blink as Queenie stepped forward, her aura expanding to shield against stray attacks.

Still, Roselia didn’t go down.

He refused to give up, even after taking the Ice Punch head-on.

It was a commendable effort.

It was also useless.

Riolu had already won the second he got in range.

Roselia forcefully tried to grab onto Riolu, activating Mega Drain, just as another Ice Punch crashed into him.

BOOM!

A green body collapsed to the ground.

Myst voice rang out.

“Roselia is unable to battle, the victor is Riolu.”

Cynthia didn’t hesitate.

She pulled a Poké Ball from her belt and walked over to Roselia. Then she knelt down, gently tapping the it against his body.

A soft red light pulled him inside.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Return, Roselia. You fought valiantly."

Chapter Text

“We have an opening… Thursday at ten o’clock. Does that work for you?” The receptionist asked dryly, barely glancing up from her computer.

Cynthia frowned. “Nothing sooner?”

The receptionist sighed, “If there were, don’t you think I would have mentioned it?”

Cynthia had to stop herself from tapping the desk impatiently. It wouldn’t help, and more than that, she had a feeling the receptionist wouldn’t exactly appreciate her impatience. It wasn’t exactly the woman’s fault that Cynthia hadn’t registered for the Gym challenge sooner after all…

That didn’t make it less annoying.

“I’ll take that slot, then,” she said with a sigh, glancing down at her side.

Maybe more time wouldn’t be all that bad.

In some ways, she was less prepared than she wanted to be, after all. She had only finished one of the two custom moves she’d planned to field, and between trekking through the forest and helping Myst, an extra week of training would only bring her back to her original plan of using a week before battling the Gym.

But at the same time…

The second badge wasn’t an obstacle.

Not really.

It was an open secret that the first two Gym challenges weren’t so much about winning as they were about showing up. As long as you put in the effort, the leader would hand you the badge.

Standing out early?

That was the real challenge.

Not that it was impossible. There were definitely ways to make an impression, with the most prestigious being a clean sweep with a single Pokémon. After all, those who managed that were the challenges people remembered.

The ones who made the news as promising trainers.

Because while the Gym Leaders were more or less sandbagging for early challengers, they still had their pride. If they noticed someone about to steamroll them with just one Pokémon, they’d crank up the difficulty for their final one.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped Riolu from cutting through Roark’s team like a hot knife through butter.

“You want to pay the registration fee with cash?”

Cynthia paused her musings.

For a hot moment she just stared at the receptionist.

The receptionist eyes narrowed in faint accusation, “You don—”

“NO!” The word shot out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Then her face heated slighly as every person in the reception area turned to look at her.

Shrinking slightly under their curious stares, she cleared her throat. “I mean,” she coughed, forcing her voice back down to a normal volume, “I have the money. Just give me a second, okay?”

Carefully, she pulled out her wallet and counted out the required amount before handing it over.

She tried not to think about how painfully thin her wallet had become after failing, for the third time, to ask her grandmother for money.

“Okay,” the receptionist said flatly, sliding the money into the register. “You’re scheduled for next Thursday at ten o’clock. If you need to reschedule, do so at least twenty-four hours in advance unless you want to forfeit your fee. NEXT!”

Before Cynthia could even step back, another trainer pushed past her to take her place.

She barely noticed.

Her eyes were locked on her wallet.

Twenty Pokédollars left.

Enough for a cheap lunch.

Or…

She hesitated.

Or ice cream.

…………….

Cynthia bit into her sandwich with as much bitterness as she could muster. The bread was too hard, the ham too dry, and honestly, she wouldn’t have even touched it under normal circumstances.

But considering her current, very temporary, financial situation she didn’t have many options.

So, she scarfed it down, trying, really trying, not to shoot Myst a dirty look.

He was not making it easy.

“What?” Myst mumbled through a mouthful of food, somehow looking downright blissful as he chewed through the dry bread without a second thought.

Really not making it easy.

It took physical effort to tear her eyes away and focus back on the bread. She took a deep breath, grabbed her water bottle, and took a long swig, willing the liquid to soften the bread enough to choke it down.

It only sort of helped.

Still, when she finally managed to swallow the soggy mess, she caught Myst eyeing her second sandwich longingly.

He didn’t need to ask, she pushed it across the table, silently offering it to him.

He blinked, then grinned, grabbing it like he’d just been handed a feast. A second later, it was already disappearing, devoured with the same enthusiasm as the first. Honestly, sometimes she thought he might be more Munchlax than boy, with the way he seemed to enjoy everything he was served.

She pouted slightly.

It was almost unfair.

Almost.

Because considering how thin he had been, feeling like it was unfair that he ate like this would just be… well, stupid.

He needed the food after all, to try and get back to normal.

Which was honestly a weird thought.

Not that she didn’t want him to get healthy, of course she did, but the idea that he had been abnormal before. It felt obvious, he had been malnourished after all.

And yet, somehow, it had still taken her a full week to really notice.

Not that she hadn’t seen it before, she wasn’t blind. She had noticed his sharp cheekbones, the way his skin stretched too tightly over them, the bony angles of his arms.

It was just…

Difficult.

Because he smiled. Because he moved like it didn’t matter. Because he ignored it so effortlessly, it was hard to grasp just how bad it had been. And maybe, in some way, it was even harder to process because she had only ever known him like that.

But now?

He looked better, was better, and for the first time, she could feel the difference. His previous state hadn’t just been bad—

It had been a disaster.

For a moment, her gaze drifted over him as he tore apart her sandwich, eventually landing on his long black hair.

She had expected him to cut it.

When they first met in the forest, it had been a wild, tangled mess, a mane more than anything else. Honestly, she was pretty sure it was held together by sticks more than any kind of cohesive effort.

But he hadn’t cut it.

Instead, he had gathered it into a loose ponytail, if you could even call it that given how sloppily it was tied, and simply let it be. Strands had already slipped free, framing his face in a way that, oddly enough, suited him.

And it didn’t hurt that it softened his features, made him look less gaunt.

Cynthia tilted her head slightly.

“So did you also get scheduled for Thursday?” Myst asked, wiping his mouth. “Because while I know you said you wanted to finish it as fast as possible, I think this might be better for me. I kinda want to try to get Ralts up to speed and see how she handles herself, see if she would be interested in battl…” He paused.

Her eyes drifted downward again, tracing the sharp angles of his jawline. Without the beard his face was… different.

“...And you’re not listening,”

Still thin, still worn, but less of a mess. The scruffy growth had made him look like he was ten years older.

“Honestly, I swear that habit will get you run over one day,” Myst muttered.

Now he just looked—

Myst reached over, poking her lightly in the head with a finger.

Cynthia blinked as his face suddenly appeared in front of hers.

“You home?” he asked, gaze almost gentle, light blue eyes filled her entire vision.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Hurriedly she leaned back, opening her mouth and tried to formulate a coherent response.

“Huh?”

It failed.

Myst raised an eyebrow. “Did. You. Get. Scheduled. For. Thursday?” he asked, enunciating each word as if that would make it easier to understand.

She blinked at him.

 “Seriously, what’s up with you? You’ve been distracted since you captured Roselia. Hell, even our Pokémon has noticed.” He motioned toward the nearby bench, where Rei, Roselia, and Riolu had taken up their seats, with Queenie lazily laying nearby.

When none of them reacted he pursed his lips and glanced into his lap instead.

Ralts blue cap popped over the table, her eyes peeking through and nodding seriously.

“Ralts!” She declared her full support for his words, before pausing and glancing towards Myst.

He patted her head and pushed her back into his lap.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. Honestly, to even say she was distracted when he was the one who kept forgetting things.

Hell, he wouldn’t even have registered for the Gym if she didn’t tell him.

She opened her mouth and raised a finger, ready to say just that.

Instead, she paused, her finger hanging in the air, ready to be gesticulated.

Damn.

He wasn’t wrong.

She lowered the finger with a sigh.

“It’s just…” She started, but trailing off before she could even begin.

“It’s just that you feel like you aren’t making enough progress? Sucks to be behind schedule?” Myst tried.

She pursed her lips, “Yeah, or well no. It’s not like I am in any hurry. Technically most trainers spend a year trying to complete the gym circuit and we are still just in the first month, but…”

“What?”

“It just feels wrong.” She concluded, unable to find words.

Honestly, maybe it wasn’t about what was happening, but instead about what wasn’t. After trying for the shortcut everything had just been one thing after another.

Getting chased by Dustox.

Ambushed by Vigoroth.

Having to chase Roselia.

Finding Ralts.

Helping Myst in the hospital

Dealing with the stress of Myst almost getting deported.

To suddenly go from that to what? Waiting a week to challenge the Gym?

It was like somebody had suddenly punctured her, leaving her feeling like her energy drained twice as fast.

Though maybe it wasn’t all bad.

She did need time to start really training Roselia. And considering her financial situation, taking on a few minor jobs before the gym would also help.

But still, the pause felt off.

She had been used to constant movement, to one challenge after another. Suddenly having all this time... it was strange.

“You know, talking about feeling wrong…”

Cynthia blinked, looked up.

“I feel like we haven’t talked about,” Myst continued, leaning over the table, his expression mock-serious, “how exactly your grandmother managed to get my gender wrong.”

Cynthia’s thoughts ground to a halt.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

And opened it again.

“That—”

She stopped.

Myst grinned. “Oh, I guess you were just afraid she might start to wonder rig—”

Cynthia slammed a hand over his mouth, effectively cutting him off.

Even so, she could see the amusement in his eyes and feel her face flush with heat. As his grin widened under her hand, she forcefully narrowed her eyes.

Applying slightly more pressure, she desperately tried to will the heat out of her face.

It was entirely unsuccessful.

Myst leaned back slightly, leaving her hand hanging in mid-air. “What? You have nothing to say for yourself? Tsk, tsk, and here I thought you might want to defend yourself against my wild accusations.” Cynthia let her hand fall to her side, stilling, without Myst really noticing. “Well, I guess I can take that as conf—”

She cut him off.

“Myst, I’m going to count to three, okay?” she began slowly, her voice flat. “And if by then the next thing you talk about isn’t about how I’m going to make enough money to eat dinner for the next two weeks, we’re going to battle. And when you inevitably lose, I will have you dragged to the nearest river, where I’ll have Queenie dump you in the water.”

He paused, looking at her for a second.

Then he held up a finger.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes.

He dropped it.

“Well, can’t you just battle some trainers on the training ground?” He tried, smile somewhat stiff.

…..

Cynthia couldn’t help but crack a smile at Myst’s still shellshocked look. He shambled forward like a corpse, then paused and glanced at her, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

“You aren’t joking with me, right? This isn’t some kind of revenge for earlier, right? Because if it is, it’s not funny.” Even though his words were serious, she could still hear the faint hope in his voice, as if he, somehow, clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, she was just messing with him.

Suppressing her smile, she shook her head. “Nope. Most battles aren’t with money on the line. Especially at our level. When you get to six or seven badges, its different, people have more money to throw away, so they usually bet a small amount on who wins. But even then, it’s not like it happens every time.”

He staggered again, as if her words had physically struck him, before glancing towards Rei, like asking for support.

He didn’t get any.

Rei shot him a sharp glare, clearly still holding onto her grudge.

Cynthia couldn’t help herself, another smile crept onto her face.

She wasn’t sure what had been funnier: how devastated Myst looked when she had to explain there was no point in trying to get money from other trainers, or how ruinous Rei had looked when he had to explain to her that he had, in fact, been slightly embellishing his stories about beating up people and taking their money.

Either way, the result was the same. For his lies and crimes, the Normal-type continued to firmly pretend he didn’t exist and even Ralts efforts to mediate didn’t seem to help.

Getting no help from his partner he instead turned his eyes onto the sky again, looking extra desolate as he got betrayed by his closest allies.

Queenie snorted, shaking her head at the sight.

Myst paused and shot the dragon a glare.

All he got in return was a completely unimpressed look.

Cynthia giggled, and Myst rolled his eyes at the sight. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he muttered darkly.

She stopped, glanced at his face, and felt her own smile threaten to split her face in two.

“And the fact you actually thought th—” She paused, almost breaking out into laughter again, but managed to keep it together with a few breaths of air. “And the fact that you actually thought people would battle each other just because they looked into each other's eyes… how do you even come up with that?”

Myst rolled his eyes again, this time slower, like he wanted to emphasize how done he was with the subject.

“Well, I for one think that would be more fun.” Myst said darkly-er, looking at the ground.

She couldn’t help herself.

Cynthia nudged him in the shoulder, and Myst looked at her.

They locked eyes.

She grinned, then forced her face into a pokerface.

“You locked eyes with me, prepare to battle!” She said robotically, moving her arms back and forth mechanically for emphasis.

Myst just glared at her.

“What? I thought you said it would be more fun? Well, let’s go, me and you, money on the line!” Cynthia teased, forcing herself to add some sparkle to her eyes.

Queenie, ever the observant one, looked at Myst sneakily, her already sharklike face turning even more so, as if she were about to pounce.

Myst held up a finger, his gaze briefly flicking between Cynthia and the eager dragon.

Then, he spun around, pointing toward their destination. “Hey, isn’t that the training ground? How about we do what we were supposed to be doing and ask around if anybody has advice about some quick jobs?”

Without waiting for a response, he took off, Ralts and Rei trailing behind him.

Cynthia shook her head but took off after them.

….

Eterna City wasn’t a huge city, but that didn’t stop it from having multiple training grounds. Still, there were always going to be some that were more popular than others, and according to Elena, that was this one.

Cynthia could see what she meant. Even as she closed in, she noticed the four fields already had matches going on, with around two dozen trainers standing around, spectating. Most of them were clumped into smaller groups, casually talking as their eyes moved from field to field, focusing on whatever battle caught their attention.

She stopped for a moment, using the time to scan for Myst.

It took her all of ten seconds to find him.

He was standing off to the side of the nearest field, just left of the judge, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His posture was casual, but there was a quiet focus in his gaze as he watched the matches unfold.

Quickly she moved towards him, ignoring the way people’s eyes seemed to move from the ongoing battles to them. It was something she was used to, after all.

At least, she thought she was.

Because as she arrived next to Myst she realized that almost everybody was staring at them.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for people to recognize her. She might not be famous, but she had more eyes on her than the average talented trainer. Most of that simply came from being the granddaughter of the region’s former head Pokémon professor, but sometimes people would realize she was one of the many trainers highlighted as… promising in the news.

Cynthia forced a smile, her nerves tightening as she scanned the crowd, trying to figure out why she had suddenly become the center of attention.

When the last match ended, she still hadn’t figured it out. Instead, she felt herself shrink slightly as the crowd began to stir. Some trainers started gathering their things, but others remained rooted in place, their eyes fixed on her and Myst, like they couldn’t look away.

She grabbed Myst’s sleeve, but froze before she could tug it to get his attention.

Not because she didn’t dare, or because she was embarrassed too.

Instead, it was simply because she had let her eyes flicker down to his other side, where Ralts stood, looking spellbound as she watched the Pokémon battle it out in the arena.

Oh yeah.

She had almost forgotten.

“Huh?” Myst asked, glancing down at her hand, which was still gripping his sleeve.

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she nodded subtly toward the small group of trainers approaching them.

He went still, his eyes flickering from the trainers back to her.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Ralts. Shiny.” Cynthia hissed, before forcing a bright smile onto her face.

Myst’s eyes widened slightly, but before he could fully process what was going on, one of the trainers spoke up.

“So, you’re the one with the shiny Ralts? Heard about it, but thought it was just somebody getting hit in the head. Where did you find her?” he asked, eyes fixed on the small Psychic-type.

Ralts, who had been standing confidently just moments before, shrank under the weight of the collective’s attention. With a nervous sound of confusion, she took a hesitant step back, her little body pressing against Myst’s side. As though seeking refuge, she peeked out from behind him, her large, wide eyes darting nervously from the trainers to the ground.

Rei instantly growled at the sight, took a step forward, spreading her small arms wide as she glared at the approaching trainers.

“Bun-Buneary!” Rei barked fiercely.

The trainers didn’t seem phased by Rei’s warning. Instead, they collectively leaned in, cooing over the Pokémon.

“Your Pokémon are adorable!” one of the girls in the group gushed.

“Eh, thank—” Myst froze as he realized what Cynthia had done a moment ago.

The girls’ eyes were locked onto her.

Hearing Myst answer, the girl froze. Her smile faltered, and her gaze flicked nervously between Ralts and Rei before landing on Myst.

“Oh, they’re yours?” she asked, her voice weakening slightly.

Before the conversation turned too awkward, Myst shrugged, “Well, I think it would be more accurate to say I’m theirs, right girls?” he joked.

Rei just kept glaring.

The girl giggled a little at Myst’s joke, but relaxed.

“Sorry for assuming,” she mumbled. “I just thought…”

Her words trailed off as her eyes locked onto Cynthia again.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows.

“You’re Cynthia Shirona, aren’t you?” She asked.

Cynthia stared at her for a moment before her gaze swept over the rest of the trainers. Their expressions shifted in unison, dimming as soon as her name was spoken.

Shit.

The girl’s expression twisted into something almost smug. “Wow… just wow, to think you’d actually show up to a training ground.”

Cynthia took a breath, before simply answering, “Why wouldn’t I?”

It was somehow the wrong thing to say.

The girls nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed, “Well, I thought you wouldn’t bother training your Pokémon, considering your grandmother got them both for you. Sure, you have anything to gain being here?” she sneered.

Myst’s expression cramped as though someone had yanked the rug out from under him.

Cynthia sighed.

So much for asking for advice on jobs.

“We were just coming around to ask if anybody had any tips on fast trainer jobs.” Cynthia tried anyway.

The boy who’d asked about Ralts narrowed his eyes, a sneer forming on his lips too. “What, you want to know what it’s like being a real trainer?”

Queenie growled low in her throat, but before Cynthia could respond, Myst took a step forward.

And smiled.

“You guys are fucking idiots,” he said, his tone so casual it almost sounded like he hadn’t said something extremely offensive.

For a split second, there was stunned silence. It felt like the air itself had thickened.

Then the group seemed to snap back into reality, their faces flushing with anger like some kind of hive-mind.

“What did you just say?” the boy asked, taking a step forward.

Cynthia had never considered Myst to be scary.

He was thin.

Funny.

A little bit silly.

But not scary.

Right now though?

He was still smiling.

But as he straightened, his posture shifted from lazy to sharp, imposing. Cynthia had always thought of him as just a bit taller than her, but in that moment, she realized how much height he lost when he slouched.

Now, standing tall, he loomed over everyone else.

The guy took an unconscious step back.

Myst’s grin didn’t waver. “I said you’re idiots. But considering you guys don’t even seem to understand words, I might need to downgrade you.”

The girl went from red to red.

“Hah! How did I not see it before? You’re just like her, aren’t you? A spoiled rich brat. How much did that Ralts cost your parents?” she spat, her words dripping with venom.

Myst’s smile remained unchanged, completely unbothered. He opened his mouth, but Cynthia didn’t give him the chance to speak.

She could tolerate people calling her lucky because, in some sense, they were right.

But Myst? Lucky?

Anger flared through her instantly.

“Shut up,” she snapped, her tone sharp.

The girl turned toward Cynthia, her smile taunting.

“Huh. Coming out to defend your boyfriend who buys those kind of Pokémon? Maybe you’re worried he wants to repl—”

Cynthia cut her off with a glare. “Let’s battle, then. Put your money where your mouth is if you think we aren’t real trainers.”

The girl stiffened, then gritted her teeth. “How’s that gonna prove anything? Your grandmother bought you a Gabite.”

Cynthia clenched her jaw. It was always like this with people like her. It was maddening how one TV host’s offhand comment about her privileged background had turned into this nonsense.

“You can fight with my Riolu, then!” she shot back.

The girl raised her nose in the air. “Oh, a Riolu. Another rare Pokémon. How convenient.”

Myst’s eyes narrowed, but his grin grew sharp.

“How about this, then? Since you obviously don’t feel confident enough fighting any of our”, he made air quotes, “rare bought Pokémon, let’s make this interesting. We’ll only use Pokémon we got from Eterna Forest. You can use whatever you want. Hopefully you don’t think my Buneary and Cynthia’s Roselia are too exotic, because I can recommend a spot about,” he lifted his hand and waved vaguely left, “two kilometers that way, where you can find similar Pokémon.”

The girl took a step back, suddenly looking vaguely uncertain.

Myst didn’t give her time to think.

“So how about it? We should be easy to beat without our ‘bought’ Pokémon, right? Face me and Cynthia in a two-on-two battle. I’ll only use Rei, my Buneary, and Cynthia will only use her Roselia. I’ll even add incentive.” He pulled a 1,000 Pokédollar bill from his pocket and held it up, his voice cold. “One thousand on the line.”

He paused, watching the girl’s face twist.

“Or are you really too scared to admit you can’t beat two fake trainers using Pokémon you could catch half an hour from here?”

The girl glared back at them.

“Fine!”

…..

Cynthia felt a sliver of rationality return about thirty seconds before the battle began.

“Sorry,” she muttered, fiddling with Roselia’s Poké Ball, her gaze flicking between the opponents.

Myst snorted. “What are you apologizing for? For me dragging us into this mess?”

Cynthia sighed, exasperated. “You know what I mean. They were polite until they realized who I was.”

“Well, they were idiots before that too and I didn’t realize that, so who cares?” Myst shot back, his voice dry.

Cynthia couldn’t help it; she cracked a grin.

Myst’s lips curled into a mischievous grin in response, but his expression snapped back to seriousness as the judge approached their position.

“This will be a battle for one thousand Pokédollars! Each team is allowed one Pokémon, which is considered out when it faints! On one side, we have Kinsey and Tevin from Jubilife City, and on the other, we have Cynthia from Celestic Town and Myst from…” The judge paused, glancing down at a sheet of paper. “… ‘Myst from Ihavenoidea Village!’”

Cynthia blinked, staring at Myst. He kept his face forward, but she caught the way his lip quivered.

Had he remem—

Before she could finish her thought the judge continued, and she forced her attention towards the battle.

“Will the challengers please send out their Pokémon!”

Rei hopped forward with small, enthusiastic bounces, looking as intimidating as a plush toy springing around.

At the same time, three red lights flared, forming three more figures on the field.

Roselia emerged gracefully, adjusting the position of his red scarf with the casual ease of a man straightening his tie.

Meanwhile, their opponents' Pokémon materialized, a Drifloon and a Machop.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. Not exactly an ideal matchup.

“The battle can now commence!”

Not that it mattered.

“Drifloon, use Gust on Roselia!” Kinsey called instantly.

Drifloon hesitated for half a beat before flitting upward and whipping up a gust of wind with its thin arms.

"Rei, interference," Myst ordered.

Rei didn’t need further instruction. In a blink, her body flashed white, and then, like a badly cut video she simply flickered. One second she was on the ground, the next she was floating above Drifloon.

Drifloon’s eyes widened, hastily redirecting its Gust toward Rei instead.

Too late.

A grin split across Rei’s face as her ear crackled with yellow sparks. With a fluid spin, she used her own body as an axis, swinging a Thunder Punch straight through the Gust and into Drifloon.

BOOM!

Drifloon slammed into the ground, dust exploding around it, momentarily obscuring its position.

"Machop, close the distance and use Karate Chop on Roselia!" Trevor shouted.

Machop didn’t need to be told twice, it was already moving, launching itself toward Roselia with practiced speed.

Roselia, in contrast, remained perfectly still, watching the incoming Fighting-type with a detached, almost lazy gaze.

Machop’s hand swung forward, a clean, direct strike—

It passed straight through Roselia.

No resistance. No impact.

Instead petals exploded from the Substitute as Machop stumbled, nearly falling forward before catching itself, eyes wide in confusion.

And then it found itself staring directly into Roselia’s half-lidded gaze.

“Roselia?”

The Grass-type smirked, cracking open a single eye.

A pulse of green energy ran up his body, his aura flaring even brighter.

“Low Kick, fast!” Trevor ordered.

Cynthia simply smiled.

“Catch him.”

As Machop lowered its stance to sweep at Roselia’s feet, its body dropped onto the grass. Instantly, Grass Knot activated.

Vines erupted, twisting around Machop’s legs and winding up its torso like living shackles.

"PUSH THROUGH!" Trevor screamed.

And to Machop’s credit, it was strong. Vines snapped as its leg pushed forward, until it stopped, just shy of touching Roselia.

It struggled, muscles straining, but its lowered posture had sealed its fate. Combined with Roselia’s Growth, the bindings held firm.

"Force yourself out, Machop! Karate Chop!" Trevor shouted anyway.

Cynthia blinked at the command, glancing at the tangled vines.

How was it supposed to?

Roselia, meanwhile, lazily circled Machop before glancing down at its still-outstretched leg. He patted it once, dusting off the vines—

And then sat down.

For a split second the Trevor fell silent, and Cynthia resisted the urge to smash her palm into her face.

She didn’t like him, but she also didn’t see the point of humiliating him.

Trevor’s face turned red as he barked commands at Machop, but it was just as effective as last time he tried. The binding from Grass Knot held firm, and Roselia turned his attention instead over to the other fight.

Rei was playing with Drifloon like a child would with a real balloon.

“PAYBACK!”

Drifloon smashed its hands forward, only for Rei to lean back just out of range. The dark attack flew harmlessly in front of her face.

“Follow it up with Gust!”

Drifloon floated back, charging the wind-based attack and firing it off—

Rei flashed white, vanishing just before the attack hit, letting it harmlessly dissipate into the ground.

“AT YOUR LEFT DRIFTLOON!”

The Balloon Pokémon swerved left, only to see Rei’s icy blue fist fill its entire vision. And, like to reinforce the humiliating though Rei didn’t punch as much as knock.

Drifloon still let out a cry of pain as the super-effective attack landed.

Yeah, that fight wasn’t exactly going to be a problem.

Instead of watching the humiliation Cynthia sighed and turned her eyes back to Roselia… just to see him adjusting his scarf.

Again.

Of course.

"Just finish Machop off, please?" she asked.

Roselia glanced away from Rei’s games, then smirked. With an artful hop, he stepped off his makeshift chair and tapped Machop lightly on the forehead.

Green energy surged from it’s body.

The Fighting Types eyes fluttered once, then twice, before rolling back as its body slumped against the tangled vines.

Trevor grit his teeth, returning Matchop looking thoroughly frustrated. “Damn it…”

Roselia dusted his hands in mid-air, then went back to, once again, fiddling with his scarf.

Cynthia closed her eyes, took a breath and said a single word.

“Roselia.”

He froze mid-adjustment, looking up with an innocent expression.

 “If you’re done showing off, help Rei finish this.” She stressed the last word, feeling an odd sort of regret pool in her gut as she watched Rei play with the Drifloon.

She had wanted to teach them a lesson, but this was…

Roselia shrugged, but before he could even begin to move, Myst’s voice rang out.

“Rei, enough, just finish it.”

Rei froze, nearly getting hit by a stray Gust before throwing herself to the side. Shooting Myst a dirty look, she focused back on Drifloon.

Who, honestly, looked about ready to faint anyway.

Sighing, Rei flashed white and landed next to the Drifloon.

"DO SOMETHING, DRIFLOON!" Kinsey’s panicked voice rang out.

It did not help.

Instead of attacking, Drifloon’s arms simply fell limp. Its eyes closed.

A final Thunder Punch ended the fight.

The judge didn’t even need to check. "Drifloon is unable to battle! The victory goes to Cynthia and Myst!"

Cynthia looked at Myst, and suddenly realized he, somehow, looked more shocked than their opponents.

“Well, that was one of the battles of all time for sure.” He mumbled.

….

Myst sank into the soft seat, plate in front of him empty.

“That was great.”

Cynthia smiled lazily, sinking into her own seat. “I told you, nothing really beats PokéChow when it comes to filling meals.”

Myst just gave her a lazy thumbs up.

For a few seconds nobody said anything, but she didn’t mind.

Instead, she let her body relax into the sofa, letting the cushion absorb her weight. Honestly, the restaurant was more for kids than adults, bright colors, a playground in the corner, but that didn’t really matter. The food was good enough, and more importantly, cheap enough that she didn’t mind splurging with their winnings.

And, well, it was the kind of place she liked to go when she wanted to be reminded of home. It was Lily’s favorite restaurant, after all, and something about the fact that it looked almost the same everywhere, with the same items on the menu, just calmed her.

So instead of awkward, the silence was simply comforting.

Not that it could last.

“How good were the trainers on the training ground today? They didn’t look…” Myst paused, hesitating slightly.

Cynthia closed her eyes.

Of course he would notice.

“About what’s expected for people on their first and second Gym badge,” she answered simply.

Myst stared at her blankly, like he honestly thought she would say gotcha any moment.

It didn’t come. She was simply telling the truth.

“And those we fought?”

“Little under average, probably.” Cynthia answered again, grabbing her soda.

Myst let out a small “huh.” But didn’t say anything more.

Cynthia pouted slightly at his lack of reaction.

She had been looking forward to this moment, but that moment shouldn’t have been now. Not when she felt like holing herself up in a cave, and definitely not when Myst looked like he was about to faint while sitting.

More than that, she pouted over the missed reaction. The slow realization. The complete overreaction when he finally understood why she was often called a prodigy. The understanding that he couldn’t be average if he kept up with her.

Instead, all she got was a huh.

“You’re pouting?” Myst voice asked.

She froze, hiding her face behind the large cup.

“No?”

He grinned slightly, but it was a lazy thing, more of a habit than anything else. He opened his mouth, she braced for the teasing, but nothing came. Instead, he just closed it again with a sigh.

Cynthia forced herself to shake off her own exhaustion at his lack of reaction.

“Are you alright?”

Myst’s face instantly became helpless.

“What, you think I’m sick just because I didn’t needle you?” he asked, snorting.

“Do you want the honest answer or the real answer?” Cynthia countered.

Myst held up a finger. “What’s even the difference?”

Cynthia pretended to think, then dropped her voice a notch, trying to match how Myst usually sounded.

"That is honestly an excellent question." She paused. "I'll get back to you on that the second I have an answer.”

Chapter Text

Cynthia had made saving money before going on her journey a priority.

It was one of the many things she had taken more seriously than most trainers her age, who were content to rely on their parents for funding. Not that there was anything wrong with that, it was just a situation she had wanted to avoid.

She already had enough people assuming she was coasting off her grandmother, she wasn’t about to give them another reason.

So, while other kids spent their summers playing, Cynthia had spent hers searching for odd jobs around Celestic. Most of the time, that meant babysitting, but if she was lucky, she’d get to assist one of the researchers working under her grandmother. She didn’t get to do anything important, of course, but it had still been the highlight of her summers.

Though if she was going to be honest?

Most of it was babysitting.

Still, it had paid off.

By the time she left, she had saved enough not just to cover her journey’s initial costs but to last her until at least the fourth or fifth Gym. By then, she figured, she’d have proven herself enough that people would trust her with real jobs. Like clearing out invading Bug-types from a farm, retrieving lost Pokémon from tricky terrain, or maybe even escorting people through dangerous routes.

She had even set aside an emergency fund, just enough to keep her from starving for a week if it came down to it.

So, when her grandmother had offered her extra money before she left, Cynthia had turned her down with a proud smile and firm words.

“I’ve got it under control. You know me, Grandma. I’m not like one of those trainers who dive in without a plan and beg their parents for money when things go south.”

Now, broke and regretting every financial decision she’d ever made, those words came back to haunt her.

Maybe, maybe she could have swallowed her pride and asked, even if it hurt. But she could still picture the way her grandmother had smiled at her, that knowing smile adults sometimes had, paired with a single raised eyebrow.

“Of course, dear.”

Cynthia gritted her teeth, her skin crawling just remembering her tone.

It had been frustrating then, knowing her grandmother thought she would struggle.

Now? Knowing she had been right?

Well, there was a reason she had failed three times already.

Of course, if Myst were here, he’d probably ask, “Cynthia, if you had everything figured out, why would you even need more money in the first place?”

And it would be somewhat fair to ask that, because honestly, she should have had everything under control. She had gotten all the ridiculously expensive items she had needed for her journey way in advance after all.

Her limited edition Umbreon print backpack? Already paid for.

Her extra-warm, self-regulating sleeping bag? Bought two years ago.

Her top-of-the-line, miniaturized tent, equipped with camouflage? It had cost her two summers’ worth of savings, but even that was paid off.

Now, if Myst were here, he might ask, “Well, Cynthia, if you had all those things, why didn’t you use them when we were in the forest?”

And to that question there was multiple simple answers.

The mini tent strapped to the side of her backpack? Gone. Ripped away by the river’s current when she jumped in.

Her sleeping bag? Apparently, “self-regulating temperature” didn’t mean “capable of surviving a stray Venoshock.”

Even three of her four spare Poké Balls, each one expensive enough to cost her nearly a month of babysitting, had somehow managed to vanish in the chase.

Still, if Myst were here, he would probably squint at her and say, “Okay, but even if you lost those things, that wouldn’t have taken money out of your account. Shouldn’t you still have all the money you saved up, as well as the emergency fund you had set aside?”

And, fine, that was reasonable.

But the problem was that while Myst was being force-fed Chansey eggs, she had made the mistake of wandering into the Poké Mart.

And then she had walked out again.

With a brand-new tent.

And a brand-new sleeping bag.

And half a dozen Antidotes.

And a couple of Ice and Fire Heals, just in case.

Really, the only thing she didn’t replace was Poké Balls, and that was only because by then she was already dead flat broke.

“But Cynthia,” she muttered under her breath, spitefully mimicking Myst’s voice. “Shouldn’t you know that spending all your money at once isn’t smart? Just because someone tells you it’s a good deal doesn’t mean you have to take it if it leaves you broke afterward. You don’t need a top of the line tent or brand new backpack, after all. Something being on sale doesn’t mean buying the cheaper option wouldn’t be better.”

Queenie let out a long-suffering sigh but kept working beside her, dutifully helping with the only job Cynthia had managed to find.

Cynthia stabbed the shovel spitefully into the pile of shit, scowling.

A decent amount splattered back over her legs.

She didn’t notice.

Instead, a low laugh came out of her, a sound only a betrayed teenage girl could make.

"Of course you're right, Myst. But that doesn’t mean you get to abandon me here just because you found out the government’s paying you every month." She muttered darkly.

She couldn’t see Riolu and Roselia looking at each other, nor the way the latter’s eyes opened slightly, like to say this is our trainer now?

……

The darkness of the night hadn’t made the trip back to the Pokécenter easy. But after working for fourteen hours straight, she wasn’t going to lie.

Getting to collapse into a bed was going to feel heavenly.

Honestly, it made her appreciate the Pokémon center’s policy more than ever: as long as a trainer was actively competing in the Gym circuit, they could stay in the dorms for free.

Not that it was anything luxurious. With half a dozen trainers crammed into a single room, there was a reason more experienced trainers usually opted to rent a place instead.

But right now?

Free was all that mattered.

The door swung open with a chime, and Cynthia shuffled in, utterly exhausted.

Lifting her head from her slouch, the first thing she saw wasn’t the cashier of the food quart, the one who smiled like she wanted you to gouge yourself on her grossly overpriced food.

It was Myst.

He was leaning against the checkout desk, grinning, like he had all the time in the world.

Before she could even process the sight though, he slid out of his chair, took a couple of easy steps, and stopped next to her, giving her a slow once-over.

"Let me guess, Queenie finally staged a mutiny after realizing she was doing all the actual work?"

Cynthia stared at him.

She wanted to be mad.

She really wanted to be mad.

But honestly? She was just too tired.

So instead, she trudged forward, too drained to care about the way people in their booths wrinkled their noses as she passed. The fact that she did smell awful was neither here nor there, but it certainly wasn’t helping her mood.

Myst plucked her backpack from her hands with ease, slinging it over his shoulder before she could even think to protest. Normally, she wouldn’t have let him, but right now, her muscles felt more like jelly than anything remotely useful.

So instead of arguing, she just gave him a bleary, exhausted smile.

Myst grinned back. "Looks like you got beat up. And here I thought you'd finally embraced your true calling as a farmhand."

Cynthia paused mid-step, then slowly turned to give him a flat look.

"Seriously, right now?”

He tilted his head, looking about as repentant as a Murkrow that had just swiped something shiny.

“I mean, you have to admit I told you shouldn’t take the job.”

She just glared at him.

“Well, you were right. Now did you get it out of your system?"

Myst shook his head. "No, no, wait, I got one more."

Cynthia rolled her eyes but waited.

She should have told him to shut up.

He cleared his throat, then spoke like he was in some old-timey drama, “So, Cynthia, what grand revelations did you uncover while toiling among the common folk? Did they teach you the value of hard work, or was that already beneath you?"

For a second, she didn’t react.

Then she blinked.

She ran his words through her head once.

Then twice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, some of the exhaustion drained from her. Not because she was waking up.

No, she was still so damn tired.

But there was something else as well.

Annoyance.

No, anger.

Because of course Myst would say that. Of course he would make fun of it. He made fun of everything, so why would this be any different?

But it was different.

Her fingers curled into fists, and Myst’s smirk flickered, just for a second.

Was it really so hard to understand that she had heard those words enough? That she had spent years proving herself only to have it dismissed every time? It wasn’t her fault people assumed things about her just because of her grandmother. It wasn’t her fault no matter how hard she worked, people always, always, found a way to twist it into some unfair advantage.

She could still picture the farmer’s son, the way his eyes had lit up with recognition the second he realized who she was. She could still hear him asking his father, too loudly, too eagerly, if she could be the one to shovel shit.

Not because she was new.

Not because it was the worst job.

But because of who she was.

Her stomach twisted.

Myst opened his mouth to say something else. “Eh—”

She ripped her backpack from his hands.

He shut up.

People took everything about their journeys so easily. They coasted on optimism, on luck, on safety nets waiting for them if things went wrong. Meanwhile, she had planned for years, made sure she would be prepared for anything.

And yet, somehow, she was the on who ended up having to do this.

Shovelling Tauros dung while some smug little brat took pictures of the area, pretending it wasn’t of her.

Myst tried again, softer this time. “Cyn—”

She cut him off.

“You know what, Myst?” Her voice was eerily calm. “You’re right. I did learn something.”

She clutched her backpack to her chest, jaw tightening as her eyes burned.

“I learned that you don’t know when to keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Myst stiffened.

Before he could say anything, she spun on her heel and marched toward the showers.

She didn’t look back.

….

Cynthia wasn’t avoiding Myst.

Not really.

She just decided that, when she went out to train this morning, she’d take the back entrance. The fact that she had snuck down before sunrise, two hours earlier than she usually woke up?

Pure happenstance.

Honestly.

“You agree right? This isn’t too out of the normal for me?”

Queenie didn’t look convinced. The Gabite levelled her with a flat, sceptical stare, as though debating whether Cynthia was trying to convince her or herself.

“Gabite,” she said, her tone an unimpressed deadpan.

Cynthia waved her off.

“Right, right. We are still focusing on you, it was just a thought.”

She ignored the muffled laughter coming from Roselia.

Mostly because karma did the work for her.

Distracted, Roselia misjudged Riolu’s next move, allowing the Fighting-type to charge straight through his buffed up Magical Leaf using Leaf Defense. And for all that Roselia might have wanted to recover, Riolu didn’t let the opening go to waste, Metal Claw smashed into his side, sending him skidding backward.

Brutal.

Cynthia almost missed the faint flicker of satisfaction on Queenie’s face, but when she caught it, she couldn’t help a small smile.

It didn’t last.

She exhaled, the weight of reality settling back onto her shoulders.

Lately, they had focused on perfecting Dragon Claw, but that was mainly because they hadn’t had much time to train properly. With everything going on, simply refining a move Queenie already knew felt like the best use of her time.

Still… that hadn’t been the original plan.

“Okay, so we are still stuck on step one?” Cynthia asked.

Queenie shot her a look that said everything about how she felt about that comment, but she still nodded.

Cynthia pursed her lips, brow furrowing.

She hadn’t expected teaching Queenie to learn Fire Fang to be this difficult.

Queenie had always been exceptionally talented when it came to picking up physical moves. Normally, the hardest part of learning one was getting the Type Energy to stick, for lack of a better word. It was one thing to coat a limb in Ice-type energy, and another to actually throw an Ice Punch.

Most of the time, Queenie just got it.

Cynthia had even come to think of it as normal, until she saw how complete newbies struggled.

New trainers made that mistake all the time.

Cynthia smiled a little, recalling her first real introduction to Rei. The little Buneary had made that exact mistake herself, slamming her fist into a boulder without the proper protection a real move would’ve given her.

At the time she had thought Mys—

She cut that thought off before it could form.

Taking a deep breath, Cynthia forced herself to focus.

She had been thinking about…

Infusions, which were usually the hardest part of learning a new move.

Cynthia ignored Roselia’s roar of defiance as he broke the rules of their training, firing off a flurry of Poison Stings.

But "usually" didn’t mean "always."

There were, of course, exceptions… and this was one of them. Because to struggle with infusing type energy, you had to be able to produce it in the first place.

And that was the crux of their issue right now.

The real problem.

Furrowing her eyebrows she absentmindedly recalled Roselia, who had fainted after Riolu landed another Ice Punch. She’d tried everything the books suggested, even the method she’d used when helping Riolu learn Ice Punch.

Visualization, Fire through Movement, Heat Source Focus, and even Move Similarity.

Nothing worked.

She wasn’t completely out of ideas, but the ones left were… less than ideal.

Because, really, the day she asked her Pokémon to bite a tree while thinking warm thoughts was the day she quit as a trainer. Not because it couldn’t work, but because if that was the best she could offer, then she wasn’t useful to her Pokémon at all.

Pokémon might not be intelligent in the same way humans were, but that didn’t mean they weren’t intelligent in their own right. They might not come up with Fire Visualization, the idea of meditating on the image of fire, but mindlessly repeating a task while thinking about fire-related things?

Yeah. They didn’t need her for that.

Queenie gave her an expectant look, waiting for another idea to come from her trainer.

“Give me a second.” Cynthia mumbled, tapping her pants as she thought.

When Riolu had learned Ice Punch, she’d used Move Similarity, bypassing the need to generate Ice-type energy from scratch by taking advantage of his familiarity with punching moves. Instead of forcing him to create Ice-type energy first, she’d guided him straight into using Ice Punch itself.

And it wasn’t like she couldn’t try the same thing with Queenie, she knew Bite, after all.

But skipping a step was a lot harder when the move didn’t align with a Pokémon’s natural typing.

Honestly, she almost wished she could just bounce her ideas off Mys—

Cynthia froze.

“Ah.” Her voice escaped unbidden as she suddenly remembered.

She’d forgotten.

They were supposed to test it, but after everything that had happened, it had completely slipped her mind.

Now that idea couldn’t be more fitting.

“Queenie, I got an idea,” she said, ignoring the twinge of guilt that whispered it wasn’t really her idea.

Queenie snapped to attention.

Cynthia took a deep breath, trying to recall exactly how Myst had explained it.

“I let her develop her own understanding of what Fire-type energy was.”

Or something like that.

She turned back to Queenie. “When you think of fire, what do you imagine?”

Queenie blinked at her, then wordlessly gestured toward the smouldering embers of their bonfire with a claw.

“Eh, no…” Cynthia paused, fumbling for the right words. How did Myst make this seem so simple?

“I don’t mean the physical fire, I mean what is fire to you?”

Queenie, who had already looked skeptical, now stared at her like she’d completely lost her mind.

“Gabite,” she deadpanned.

Cynthia translated the meaning in her head.

Heat.

“I don’t mean the feeling coming off it,” she tried again. “I mean…” She hesitated. How was she supposed to ask if that was what fire was, conceptually, to Queenie?

Because even if Queenie understood her words, Pokémon didn’t process language the way humans did. Research showed they relied on Aura for communication, something instinctive, fluid. In some ways, that made things faster, even better.

But in moments like this, when she needed nuance?

Yeah. That was exactly what she didn’t have.

“Okay, how about this,” she tried a different angle. “What is a Dragon to you? What is Dragon-type energy?”

Queenie opened her maw, then hesitated.

Cynthia blinked, feeling somewhat surprised at the lack of immediate response.

A few seconds passed before Queenie’s jaw shut again. And then, when she opened it once more, it was with certainty.

“Gabite.” She said firmly.

Cynthia considered that.

People had all sorts of theories about what unified the Dragon type. They were famous for being stronger than other Pokémon, for being harder to train, for demanding respect rather than giving it freely.

For simply being dangerous.

She’d even read that, before the modern typing system, people used to call it the Tyrant type. A fitting name. She could imagine plenty of Dragon-types answering with something like that.

But Queenie hadn’t.

No, the closest word Cynthia could find for her answer wasn’t something as crass as tyrant.

It was majesty.

She should have guessed.

To Queenie, a Dragon wasn’t just power. It was something grander. Something beautiful.

A being of unprecedented scale.

Because in the end, Queenie was always watching, always standing guard against anything that dared intrude on her domain. Dismissing challenges, making the final call.

A queen watching over her subjects.

"Okay, okay. So, to you, Dragon-type isn’t just about being a powerful Pokémon with scales, right?" Cynthia gestured as she spoke, trying to get the idea across. "That’s how I want you to think about Fire. Not just what it is, but what it means, like you just did with Dragon-type. What is Fire to you?"

Queenie nodded slowly, like she understood what Cynthia was asking of her.

Still, Cynthia could tell she didn’t quite grasp why she was supposed to do it.

Even so, Queenie listened and so she thought.

A few moments passed.

Then a few more.

Cynthia felt her expectations rising, barely able to contain her anticipation as she watched Queenie, completely absorbed in thought. When her partner finally spoke, it wasn’t with the same confidence she’d shown when discussing Dragon-type energy. This time, Queenie’s voice wavered with uncertainty.

But she still answered.

"Gabite," Queenie murmured, her gaze flicking toward the embers of the campfire. "Life."

Cynthia frowned. "Life?"

Queenie nodded, her tail swishing behind her as she glanced back at the smoldering fire. "Gabite. Gabite-gabite.”

Cold is death. Fire keeps warm. Fire you move. Fire keeps weak alive in dark.

The hairs on Cynthia’s arm stood on end as she stared at her partner, into those golden eyes, where the fire flickered and danced.

Queenie’s answer just…

Fit.

For a moment, Cynthia felt a strong urge to dig deeper, to understand why this was how Queenie felt about fire. But she forced herself to hold back, to keep her curiosity in check. Instead, she took a deep breath, cantering herself, before refocusing on the reason she’d asked in the first place.

“Life, okay.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts, “Well, I want you to apply that understanding to your type energy. Try to form it through the image of life…”

Cynthia stopped, noticing Queenie staring blankly at her.

She sighed, rubbing at her temple. “Okay, let’s take this one step at a time.”

Queenie tilted her head, waiting patiently.

Honestly, when Myst had explained it, he’d made it sound so simple. Just have Rei apply the concept of devouring onto her Type Energy, and bam, Fire-type energy.

Now, trying to explain it herself, Cynthia felt the weight of her own words.

She exhaled slowly, trying to refocus. “Alright, you see fire as life. So, instead of forcing the energy, try…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know, make it alive. Let your energy imitate movement and life.”

Queenie hesitated, doubt flickering in her golden eyes. But after a moment, she closed them.

Cynthia watched her closely, holding her breath.

At first, nothing happened.

Seconds stretched into minutes, the only sounds around them the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional crackle of their fading campfire.

Cynthia nearly spoke up, once, twice, but each time, she caught herself. She could speak when Queenie gave up.

Not a second sooner.

Then Queenie’s claws flexed.

Her breathing slowing.

A deep inhale, a slow exhale.

And then—

A spark.

Faint, flickering, gone as quickly as it came.

Cynthia’s pulse leapt. She forced herself to stay still, hardly daring to breathe as Queenie tried again.

This time, the energy held.

Thin and unstable, like a candle’s flame on the verge of dying, but unmistakably there. A dim, reddish glow coated her talon, fragile and weak, nowhere near enough to form even a single move.

And yet.

Cynthia stared, hardly able to believe it. Because Myst had told her Rei had figured it out almost instantly. The moment she understood what fire meant to her, she could produce the energy as naturally as breathing.

Cynthia had found the idea fascinating.

She just hadn’t believed him.

Because if there was a method this effective, people would have caught on. It would have spread. Pokémon had lived alongside humans for thousands of years. Even if treating them as partners, structured training and research were relatively new concepts, someone should have discovered this by now. Someone should have written about it, studied it, refined it.

But she hadn’t read about it.

Hadn’t even heard about it.

Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe Queenie was just particularly responsive to this kind of training—just like Rei had been.

But if not…

Her eyes flickered toward the town.

And with a growing sense of dread, she realized what it meant.

She’d have to talk to him about it.

Because she wouldn’t, couldn’t, let this go.

They had to research this properly.

Even if it meant apologizing.

Shit.

Chapter Text

“So, what do you think?” Cynthia asked, only to be met with silence.

She turned to Queenie, narrowing her eyes.

“You were listening, right?”

The Gabite let out a slow yawn, stretching her arms lazily before waving one in a vague, dismissive motion, like to say, of course she had been.

Cynthia folded her arms. “So you agree, then? That I was in the wrong?”

Queenie studied her trainer for a long moment, her golden eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Then, ever so slowly, she nodded.

Cynthia inhaled sharply, staring at her partner with deep, exaggerated disappointment. “Because if you did agree with that,” she said, voice heavy with betrayal, “then you’d be admitting that you’ve just been nodding along for the last half an hour. Because that was the opposite of what I was saying!”

Queenie blinked once. Then, with the same slow deliberation, she nodded again.

Cynthia groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Unbelievable! How could you not be paying attention? I need your advice!”

Golden eyes stared at her.

A beat passed.

“Gabite,” Queenie said at last, shaking her head.

Then, without another word, she calmly tapped a claw against the Poké Ball on Cynthia’s belt. In a flash of red light, she vanished.

Cynthia froze.

She looked down at her side.

Then pursed her lips.

“Huh,” she mumbled, letting her hands slowly fall.

A bitter smile spread across her lips.

“Yeah… I get it. I’m just being stupid,” she whispered.

Honestly, the fact that Queenie had even bothered to listen to her rant was more than kind enough of the exhausted Dragon-type. While she hadn’t been training physically, working to generate and control Fire-type energy was draining enough that she had every right to excuse herself from the conversation entirely.

The wind blew across the grass, rustling Cynthia’s hair as she glanced towards town. Then, with heavy feet she walked towards it, steeling herself.

She had to talk to him.

For science.

…..

“Oh, he left before you, then came back for like an hour before leaving again. Asked for you,” Elena drawled from the table where she lay, face down.

Cynthia felt a twinge of regret for interrogating her, considering she looked like every bone in her body had slowly dissolved over the course of her night shift. Then her words registered.

“He left before me?”

Elena lifted her head just enough to look at her. “Doesn’t he always wake up first?”

“No, I mean, yes, but I woke up at five today! He usually wakes up at six!”

Elena raised an eyebrow, like she wanted to ask how Cynthia knew that, but didn’t comment. Instead, she let out a sigh. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He came back around half past eight to see if you were here, and then left again when he couldn’t find you.”

Cynthia did the math quickly in her head. If he had been here around half past eight, that was right around the time she would usually be getting back from her morning run.

He would have caught her any other day.

That thought was almost scary, and even as she felt a flicker of frustration over the fact he wasn’t here, a wave of relief washed over her at the same time. She wasn’t sure she’d have been ready to talk to him then.

Hell, even as the clock approached noon, she still didn’t really feel ready

But…

Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Queenie, and she clenched her fists.

Some things were simply more important.

“Did he mention where he was going?”

Elena had seemingly zoned out, staring blankly at the clock and only managed to blink slowly when Cynthia spoke. Still, after a couple of seconds, she slowly managed to refocus.

“Wha? Oh, uh… no. He just asked if I’d seen you.”

Cynthia frowned. “Did you at least see which way he left?”

Elena didn’t answer. Her eyes were back on the clock as the second hand inched toward twelve. The moment it hit, she slammed her palms onto the desk.

“No,” she said.

And then she bolted.

Cynthia barely had time to react as Elena rushed toward her usual workstation, swiped her ID card in one fluid motion, and shot a nod toward the head Nurse before sprinting upstairs toward her room.

Cynthia stared blankly at the space Elena had occupied a second ago, then sighed.

The first part of the day, she hadn’t wanted to see his face. Now that she was looking for him, he was nowhere to be found.

Typical.

It was almost funny, how he could somehow annoy her even when he wasn’t even there. Still, she gave it some thought. If he had left, where would he have gone? The practice fields were an option, but… unlikely.

That left…

Cynthia tapped her fingers against the table, gaze shifting toward the map hanging outside. Her eyes landed on the small, near-imperceptible writing. She didn’t need to read it to know what it said.

Eterna Forest.

…..

It was honestly luck.

Nothing else.

He sat curled against a tree, arms loosely around his knees, watching as Rei and Ralts trained. Rei darted forward again and again, her paws flickering with frost as she worked to make the transition from Quick Attack into Ice Punch seamless. Just a few feet away, Ralts stood with her eyes narrowed, holding half a dozen stones in midair with Confusion, each one bobbing at a different rhythm, rising and falling like a conductor guiding six separate songs at once.

Cynthia stopped, observing him.

Every so often, he would call out advice. Telling Rei to stop trying to force the entire transition at once and instead focus on shaving down the time between moves bit by bit. Or noticing when Ralts wasn’t struggling and encouraging her to add another stone.

She didn’t interrupt. Instead, she walked up and, without a word, sat down beside him.

It spoke to his concentration that he didn’t react. His lips pressed together in thought, eyes still tracking his Pokémon.

Cynthia tilted her head slightly.

“You don’t think it would be better for Ralts to focus more on power for now, and less on control? It’s hard to damage someone if all she can do is pick up twenty small rocks, but can’t throw one big one.”

Myst didn’t flinch, and in that moment, she realized she'd been wrong. He had noticed her; he just hadn't acknowledged it… letting her decide if she wanted to talk first.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think most people can figure out how to put more power into something. Learning how to be measured, how to control that power? That’s a lot harder. Better to start with it first, so it becomes a habit. Maybe Rei wouldn’t be having this much trouble if I had done the same with her.”

Cynthia wrinkled her nose. “You say that, but you have no idea if that’s true, do you? You still haven’t touched the book you bought on beginner training tips, after all.”

Myst tried, really tried, but his face still cracked into a smile. “I mean, of course, but it feels like it should be right.”

Cynthia sighed. “Well, you can be happy to know there’s absolutely no consensus on the matter. Though, for the record, I favour focusing on building up how much power you can use first, it’s easier to learn control when you have already learned to control more of it.”

Myst smirked. “Well, with my track record, I think there’s about to b—” He shut his mouth with a clank.

Cynthia frowned, irritation bubbling up at his reaction.

“You can finish your sentence, you know?” she said.

Myst’s smile turned awkward. Too awkward.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes.

It wasn’t hard to guess why he stopped himself. And for some reason, that only made her more annoyed.

Honestly, why did she even bother?

“Well, if it’s going to be like that, I think I’ll just leave you to it,” she snapped, pushing herself to her feet.

She turned, only to stop.

She glanced down.

A hand wrapped around her wrist.

And just like that, irritation twisted into something hotter.

“Wait.”

His voice didn’t help.

She tore her arm from his grip and spun around, mouth already open to—

Stop.

His normally vibrant blue eyes were bloodshot. Not just tired. Something else. Something worse. Like he hadn’t really slept, or maybe even had been…

She swallowed, her stomach twisting slightly.

“Cynthia, please. I just want to talk okay. Give me a few minutes.” He asked, no begged.

It was unlike him.

Myst wasn’t a person that looked like this.

Tired?

Sure.

Like he was two steps from dying?

Of course.

But distraught?

Broken down?                   

Looking like he was about to cry?

Never.

For a moment, she just stared.

His hand fell away.

She swallowed again, and before he could say anything more, she nodded and sat back down beside him.

He smiled at her, the relief so overwhelming it almost stole her breath.

"Thanks," he said, as though he hadn’t expected her to stay.

And, annoyingly, Cynthia felt irritation bubble up again. Did he really think she would just leave after that?

She was the one who had found him.

She huffed in response and turned her gaze back to Ralts and Rei, forcing herself not to look at him.

It didn’t work.

Her eyes trailed down to his hands, watching as he absently plucked a few blades of grass and let them flutter away in the wind.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Well, you are forgiven,” she said, almost automatically.

Myst paused for a second.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. She came here to apologise after all, just because she wasn’t in the wrong didn’t mean she didn’t do anything wrong.

"You think I wouldn’t forgive you?" she said, half mocking. "Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal. I was tired. I overreacted, too."

Myst let out a breath, his smile soft, almost vulnerable.

“You know, I—” He stopped. Hesitated. Weighed his words.

“You what?” she prompted.

His lips pressed together. Then, he leaned forward just slightly, just far enough for his face to be obscured by his dark hair.

“It’s not the same, you know that right? What you did compared to what I did… I want to properly apologize, but honestly?” His voice sounded almost helpless as he continued, “I just don’t know what to say.”

He straightened a little, turning towards her again.

“I want to apologize because I was stupid. I didn’t think when I spoke. I want to go back in time and smash my fist into my own face, because I know that if nothing else changed, I would probably say the same thing. I want to explain that I was…" He paused, then corrected himself, "No, that I am stupid, and that trying to… I don’t even know what I thought. That I would cheer you up by being a dick?”

His smile dropped.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess, what I wanted is irrelevant when I end up hurting you. In the end I can’t change what happened, and even if I could I don’t think it would matter, because I feel like I’m inevitably going to make a similar mistake.”

He grinned again, but it was crooked, self-deprecating. “I swear, everyone else seems to have these social antennas pointing straight up,” he said, mimicking the gesture with two fingers held high like horns, “while mine are down here.” He retracted them slightly, giving a half-hearted shrug.

“I don’t have an excuse. I don’t know why I’m like this. Honestly, I almost want to blame everything else, the whole world. I feel like an alien. Everything I encounter is new. Everything feels wrong. People ask me things, assume I should just know, and I don’t. So I end up running full speed ahead because that’s the only way I feel like I have control. I joke around because it’s the only way I know how to handle it. If I don’t make light of it, then...”

He closed his eyes, alongside his mouth.

I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

She still heard his words.

Opening his eyes he stared into her’s.

“But that would just be stupid. Blaming the world for everything, like a kid who’s afraid to take responsibility... It’s my problem, and only I can fix it.”

Cynthia opened her mouth, but he didn’t let her.

“Maybe that’s why I keep placing you on a pedestal,” he continued, words tumbling out like he couldn’t stop. "You have a clear plan for what you want. You don’t hesitate. You don’t care what others think or what they think you should do. You never dismiss people or talk down to them, even when you should. I can’t even shut up if my life depends on it, while you know exactly what to say. I know you have bad days. I’ve seen them. But I just… can’t get it through my thick skull."

He tapped his head, just hard enough that it had to have hurt.

“So I’m sorry, not just for what I said, but because you’re too nice to me. I want to say I’ll stop joking around so much, that I’ll stop making everything into a joke, but—”

Cynthia tried to cut him off.

“Myst,” she said quietly.

“You have everything together, and I’m just—”

He didn’t notice.

“Myst!” she tried again, sharper.

He paused.

"You are overreacting," she said simply.

He blinked.

"Do you joke too much? Sure. But that’s fine. I don’t mind it most of the time. Sometimes, they can even be," Cynthia hesitated, but powered through anyway, “funny.”

He opened his mouth.

This time she didn’t let him.

“Did I get mad? Yes. Because I was tired. Because you hit a sore spot. Because you didn’t think. So you should apologize, and I wanted you to apologize. But honestly?”

She glared at him.

“I felt like I was at fault as much as you. You say you put me on a pedestal? Well, it doesn’t seem like it. I dragged you through a forest when you were two steps from death. You tanked a freaking Slash for me. And then you think some words are enough for me to hate you forever? That I can’t handle a joke from a friend landing badly? Doesn’t seem like you have a very high opinion of me.”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her emotions.

Myst opened his mouth again.

She glared.

He closed it.

With a few more deep breaths, Cynthia continued.

"You didn’t know how I felt. It wasn’t like I said anything. Could you have figured it out? Maybe. But you’re not a mind reader, and I don’t expect you to be. Could you tone down your jokes? Like I said, sure. But I also don’t mind if you don’t. I am more than capable of speaking up if I feel you are being an idiot. I am not some kind of glass flower, and I promise you, if I felt like you were being mean, or if I hated your quips, I wouldn’t want to travel with you.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “I wouldn’t have called my grandmother for a favour, and I definitely wouldn’t have helped you sign up for the Gym Challenge last minute. No, I would’ve tied you up back in Eterna Forest, thrown you over Queenie’s back, and dropped you off at the nearest Pokécenter.”

She resisted the urge to sigh at the way his face slowly turned to sheer dumbfoundedness.

“So, if you want to feel bad fine, but don’t drag me into it. You were insensitive, I almost killed you, if you want to make that an even trade then I don’t mind.”

For a moment, Myst just stared at her, before a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Okay, deal.” He said, voice dead serious.

Cynthia rolled her eyes.

They both sat in silence for almost a minute.

It was odd. On one hand, she felt lighter, like a burden had been lifted. On the other, she was utterly exhausted.

She sighed.

“You know Myst, I had a reason to find you, you know. A whole plan about how I was going to apologize to you, so I could talk to you about actual important stuff, but you went ahead and ruined it with this entire,” She waved her hand around, turning her nose up, “séance.”

Myst let out a low laugh, just forced enough that she understood he had caught onto what she was doing.

“I mean, I had a better plan originally, but then you suddenly decided to change up your routine, so my plan kind of... got hairy,” he said with a smirk.

“You had a plan?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I had a plan.” Myst replied with a shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

Cynthia grinned.

Myst smiled back.

“Still, what is this serious stuff.”

Cynthia blinked, but a flutter of excitement raced through her chest as her mind darted back to the discovery she’d made.

She paused.

Well, they made.

A beat passed.

Ok, he made.

She pushed the thoughts aside and focused. “You remember that training method you told me about for Rei? The one where you try to figure out what their concept of the type is?”

Myst tilted his head, as though trying to recall the conversation. “Yeah, of course,” he said slowly.

Cynthia practically beamed. “I tried it on Gabite, and it worked. Instantly.”

Myst’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. “That… you mean...?”

Cynthia felt her grin widen.

“Yeah.”

Myst paused deliberately, his eyes narrowing, and then he grinned slyly. “Actually, I have no idea what that means. So, how about you explain it to me?”

Cynthia instantly grabbed her heart.

She let out a grunt of pain, and fell sideways dramatically, her arms flailing as she pretended to collapse in shock.

He laughed.

She giggled.

……….

Cynthia walked into her room, feeling lighter than she had hoped when the day began. Honestly, for how bad yesterday had been, today had been downright miraculous. Hell, it almost made her wonder if it was just her luck turning around.

“Cynthia?” A girl’s voice called out.

She stiffened.

Shit.

Like a robot with bad joints, she turned towards the voice, only to spot a girl with long brown hair staring at her with a soft smile. Cynthia relaxed slightly at the lack of a negative reaction.

“Great. Wasn’t sure what to do, but now I can just ask. A tall boy asked me if I could put this on your bed. I wasn’t sure if he had bad intentions, so I figured I’d hold onto it and give it to you before you went to sleep,” the girl said, fishing a box from under her bed. It was wrapped in dark paper with a letter laid on top.

Cynthia walked over and took it from the girl’s hands. Picking it up she flipped the letter over and scanned it quickly.

At the words she let out a helpless smile.

Sorry.

I’m stupid.

Please forgive me.

• Myst

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

The girl shrugged. “Also, sorry, but I read it. I didn’t mean to but… well, needed to figure out if it seemed legit. Your boyfriend did something stupid or what?”

“Friend, and…” Cynthia corrected, but trailed off.

The girl shook her head. “Whatever. He seems like a good guy, though, if he felt bad enough about it to give you a gift. Or well, at le—” She paused, glancing at the clock, rapidly nearing six a.m. “Oh shit, I gotta go, meeting a friend. Catch you later.”

And just like that, the girl rushed out the door.

Cynthia followed her with her eyes for a moment, then turned back to the box. She placed it on her bed and carefully unwrapped it, ensuring not to damage the paper. Inside, she found a completely black box. She cracked a smile, but as she opened the lid, her eyes immediately zeroed in on the contents.

Nestled neatly in the dark velvet was a small black and yellow hair tie. It resembled a blend of Lucario’s head appendages, adorned with Umbreon’s rings.

Cynthia’s smile softened.

Chapter Text

He didn’t lie down so much as collapse.

It was hard to say what he was feeling.

Relief?

Happiness?

Honestly, the most accurate word would probably be numb. Like someone had taken his emotions and put them through a wringer, squeezing him dry until all that remained was an odd, empty feeling.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, draping a hand over his eyes.

Today had been too long.

And it wasn’t even over yet.

With a deep breath, he turned to the side, slid a hand under his pillow, and pulled out a notebook.

It had been on sale, and he’d bought it impulsively after seeing Cynthia pick one up for herself.

At first, he’d thought it might serve as a diary, or maybe even a planner like Cynthia wanted hers for. But after scribbling a few sentences, he’d realized that he didn’t have the patience to use it for any of those things.

So, flipping through the pages, he skipped past the empty dates, his fingers landing on yesterday’s entry.

The first time he had been bored enough to try doing anything with it.

He paused, letting his gaze linger on the page for a moment.

Back in the forest, there had always been something to do. Not a single moment had gone to waste. He was foraging for food, training Rei, or helping Lopunny with the younger children. One thing after another, a constant stream of tasks that barely managed to keep his mind off everything.

For some reason, he had imagined it would be the same when he returned to civilization, or maybe even better. That more options would mean less downtime.

That could not have been further from the truth.

Sure, he could train Rei and Ralts, but there was a limit to how long a Pokémon could train. They could use their moves plenty of times, but Type Energy wasn’t infinite. In short battles, it was almost never a problem, but while training? There were only so many times Rei could chain Quick Attack into Ice Punch before exhaustion set in.

Even more basic training had its limits. Pokémon were stronger than humans, with endurance to match, but Rei would still collapse if she ran too long. Hell, even focusing on the things Lopunny taught him, getting Rei to absorb Aura into herself after training, had diminishing returns.

So what did he do with the rest of his time?

He spent it with Cynthia.

Talking about training.

Getting help.

Having fun.

It had been enough to keep his mind off the fact that he had nothing else to do. Keep it off how the official who was supposed to help him seemed more interested in asking questions he couldn’t answer and off how everything still felt wrong.

Myst traced a finger over the page.

It was almost ironic.

In the forest, the option of talking to other people hadn’t even existed, but somehow, he had never really felt lonely. The absence of others hadn’t registered, so he hadn’t missed them.

A bitter smile spread over his lips.

Now?

Cynthia had gone to work for the day, and he, like some kind of stray dog waiting for its owner, had spent the entire time just anticipating her return. It wasn’t even as if he hadn’t tried to keep himself busy, he had.

But it was easier said than done.

The training grounds were full of people, but most stuck with their own friends. And the ones who didn’t? Well, there was usually a reason for that. So, in the end, after buying the supplements the beginning trainer guide recommended, he just waited... waited for the rest of the day.

What a freaking joke.

Never mind how stupid it sounded; it couldn’t even be healthy. His entire life shouldn’t revolve around her, for his sake and for hers.

It wasn’t normal.

Other people had friends, family, and connections.

A support network.

Hobbies.

Something.

What did he have?

He had Rei. He had Ralts.

And he had Cynthia.

The girl who had decided to go on a journey with him, for some god forsaken reason.

The girl he couldn’t stop wanting to laugh.

Whose blond hair shone like a halo.

Whose hidden smiles—

“So, Cynthia, did you finally manage to find out how to work hard while toiling among the common folk, or was it too far beneath you?”

His grip tightened. The notebook nearly tore as he once again remembered. His hand shook, muscles locked as he forced himself to let go. Too much time had gone into this page. He wouldn’t ruin it.

Again.

Myst took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he loosened his grip.

It was honestly crazy, that he thought those words would somehow make her smile. He knew what his intentions had been, of course. He had wanted her to give him a quick smile, maybe kick his knee in protest.

But to say that, after he’d seen how those trainers had looked at her?

When she was that tired?

It was a joke.

Not a funny one either.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t even sure he could stop himself from doing it again. Talking to people was hard enough. Avoiding feeling stupid every time someone forgot he had freaking amnesia was hard enough.

Trying not to stick his foot in his mouth?

It felt impossible.

Which was stupid, because it should be easy. Just don’t make risky jokes. Stop trying to make light of everything.

It just wasn’t.

Myst forced his eyes away from the notebook and onto the nearby clock. Two hours until they were supposed to meet for dinner. Just enough time to get some sleep.

And he should get some sleep.

He was tired.

Hadn’t slept.

Felt numb.

But somehow, none of that signalled to his brain that he should be sleepy. No, instead, adrenaline still flooded his system, even almost an hour after getting back from—

Myst paused.

Then cringed.

Another thing he hadn’t wanted to think about.

His frankly disastrous attempt at a genuine apology.

It wasn’t even that he thought the whole thing was bad. Or, well… it wasn’t like he thought most of it was bad.

Honestly, considering his original plan had been completely wrecked, and his attempt to reorganize a second plan had been interrupted by the person he was trying to apologize to, it had gone shockingly well.

Even then it should have gone a lot better, considering Cynthia had apparently walked over thinking she should be the one to apologize.

With hindsight, he should have just stopped after the social antennas analogy. That was the last moment she’d looked fine with it. Every word after that had only made her look less happy, like his attempt to explain himself had somehow made her think he was trying to excuse himself.

But at least that part had been genuine.

It had been his actual feelings, no matter how embarrassing they were.

The talk about putting her on a pedestal?

That had been desperation.

An everything-and-the-kitchen-sink kind of move, running down the list of every cliché, until he found something that made her stop looking so damn unhappy.

Until something made her look like she would forgive him.

Not that she wasn’t worthy of being put on a pedestal. She was all the things he said.

Considerate and kind.

Smart, but willing to learn.

Determined and unyielding.

It was just—

He had also seen her other sides.

How she could pout endlessly when he couldn’t explain where his knowledge came from.

How she could chase a Pokémon for an entire night, forgetting about everything else.

How she’d refused to talk to him for hours just because he’d eaten her candy to regain energy, even though he had almost lost his arm.

So to say he put her on a pedestal?

It just wasn’t true.

He might not know every side of Cynthia, yesterday had made that more than clear enough, but he knew more than he should.

Life and death had a way of speedrunning friendships like that.

It was almost funny though. If he really had seen her as some invincible, untouchable girl, this entire situation wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t have felt the need to cheer her up. He would have just assumed she didn’t need it.

Myst paused, fingers brushing by the edge of the notebook.

Though maybe it wasn’t completely wrong either.

After all, she was everything he had.

And wasn’t that the problem.

With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed and walked over to the shared desk in the corner of the room. Silently, he laid down the notebook and glanced at the leftmost page. Half-scribbled jokes and references he knew he should know, but somehow didn’t, covered the page.

His eyes drifted right, landing on the other open page.

Cynthia greeted him.

The lines along her chin were smudged from him having spent too much time trying to perfect it, only for the paper to start giving out. Her hair was better. He got it right more or less first try, done in quick and soft strokes. Her eyes had ended up a little too wide, giving her a softer look, more innocent than she really was. Still, it was recognizable.

Her smile was the part he was most satisfied with, the way it curved, like she was trying not to laugh. A look he’d grown used to, one he could recognize in his sleep.

It had taken hours. He’d started mostly because he had nothing better to do. He’d imagined maybe he could draw stick figures fighting or something, but when his pencil touched the paper, he felt it.

That familiarity, like he’d done this before.

So, when he started, he couldn’t stop.

In the end, the drawing had turned out well, good enough that it couldn’t have been his first time.

It didn’t matter.

He remembered nothing.

Tapping his pencil twice he let out a sigh.

He should honestly get some sleep.

He should.

Really.

He flipped the page.

And tried to draw Rei’s furry face.

……

The park was beautiful, even as the sun began to fall, casting the sky in hues of gold and lavender. It wasn’t often the park was this empty, but right after dinner was one of those rare times, doubly so considering it was technically still dinner time.

Eating dinner early, the perks of waking up.

Or just not sleeping.

“You think every Pokémon has a different concept applied to their type energy, or is there like a range that is possible?” Cynthia asked, her voice light with curiosity.

“Eh, no clue.” Myst mumbled, strangling another yawn.

“But like, what if a Pokémon figured out their concept of Fire-typeing would be cold, because they live in magma, like a Macargo or something?” Cynthia continued, her thoughts racing ahead.

Myst blinked sleepily, barely able to keep his eyes open as he rested back against the grass. The peaceful quiet of the park, combined with the exhaustion of the day, was starting to pull him under. But Cynthia's voice, full of curiosity, kept him tethered.

Well, tethered was a strong word.

Maybe delicately connected was more accurate.

“Myst?” Cynthia’s voice snapped him back.

“I mean, maybe? Like I guess you could have...” His words trailed off as his thoughts escaped him.

For a second, he ended up staring blankly at the sky.

It was apparently enough to tip her off.

Cynthia glanced at him, frowning. “You did sleep right? I though you said you would go take a nap before dinner?”

Myst forced himself off the comfortable grass and dragged himself into a sitting position. Laying down was too dangerous. It still took a force of will to focus back on Cynthia’s face, her grey eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I mean, what else would I have done in that room? It’s not exactly like there are a lot of things to do.” He tried.

Cynthia pursed her lips.

Myst gave her his best smile. It did not help. If anything, it seemed to make her even more suspicious.

“No, I mean seriously, what could I have even been doing?”

“You could have been, you know, thinking about…” Cynthia hesitated, glancing away for a moment, as if unsure how to finish her thought.

Myst stared at her, his brow furrowing slightly, trying to figure out what she was hinting at.

He drew up a blank.

So instead he ended staring blankly into her back.

And her hair.

Huh.

Usually, Cynthia wore her hair loose, letting it fall freely down her back. But since the last time he saw her, she had changed it up. Two small hair clips, black and yellow, held part of her hair back, framing her face with soft bang.

It looked good.

Pretty even.

Myst blinked.

Ah.

"You look good with them. They suit you," he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

They did, he thought, glancing at the yellow rings on the clips that matched her hair perfectly. He had chosen them thinking they'd suit her, but now that he was seeing them in action, they felt even more fitting.

Cynthia's cheeks flushed instantly, her eyes widening as her hands shot up to her hair, like she wanted to hide them. She opened her mouth, glaring at him, but took a deep breath instead.

“That was not what I was asking about,” she ground out, the tips of her ears turning bright red, looking almost like small flames.

Myst blinked, momentarily stunned by her reaction.

Then he tilted his head deliberately. "I mean, you always look good, but I appreciate that you liked my gift?"

Cynthia raised a hand threateningly.

He grinned slightly, and she shook her head, clearly exasperated. “Whatever. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine. But seriously, you look dead.”

“Well, I’m fine, you know that I don’t need much sleep anyway.” Myst waved her off, a half-hearted smile on his face.

It was even true.

Well, sort of.

He had always been the type to operate on fumes, his body conditioned to push through exhaustion as though it were just another part of existence. Survival in the forest had taught him to shut out the fatigue, to keep moving even when every fiber of his being screamed for rest.

But lately, it felt different.

Maybe it was because his body had started to fill out, becoming less the lean, wiry form he was used to, and more something that actually required fuel. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t running for his life anymore, that his survival wasn’t hinging on constantly being alert.

Maybe it was just the fact he was living and not just surviving.

He would have honestly thought that the latter should have taken less energy.

Cynthia let out a sigh.

“Myst, seriously.”

Myst smiled slightly.

“You think I look that broken? Where was all this concern when I was running through the forest?” he shot out instinctively.

Then his own words registered.

Ice shot through his body, jolting him awake.

Shit.

He opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, but before he could, Cynthia just rolled her eyes with a giggle, her shoulders shaking slightly.

“Well, I for one, think it should tell you something about how you look that you seem more tired now.”

He relaxed slightly.

“I guess,” he muttered under his breath, glancing away, trying to calm his beating heart.

A few seconds later he felt the need to sleep return, and instinctively his eyes began to flutter.

“Let’s play a game.” Cynthia said suddenly.

Myst felt his head fall slightly to the side as he glanced at her side profile.

Cynthia looked like she hadn’t just said something wildly out of character.

“Why?”

She glanced at him, expression hidden behind a poker face.

“Something to do? You don’t think I like to play games too?” She asked.

Myst managed to raise an eyebrow, containing the numerous times she had denied playing, ‘What am I thinking about?’, while walking through the forest.

She rolled her eyes, understanding him without a word. “That was different, distracting ourselves while walking through the forest could be dangerous.”

“Riolu.” Myst answered simply.

“Well—”

“Rei.” Myst countered.

Cynthia flushed again, snapping at him, “Well, do you want to play or what?”

“I mean, of course, but what game?”

She glared at him.

He shrugged, he was curious, not his fault she suddenly seemed to want to play a game.

“Twenty questions. Only honest answers, though you can pass.” Cynthia answered simply.

Myst tilted his head.

Not what he expected.

And…

For some reason, he felt like there should be a trap in her game, but he couldn’t quite spot it.

Whatever.

“I start then.” He stated.

Cynthia nodded gracefully, like she didn’t mind at all.

“Sure, go ahead, but we switch after every question, okay?”

Myst nodded.

Opened his mouth.

Then paused.

What did he even want to ask?

Pursing his lips, Myst glanced at Cynthia, who was waiting for him to say something. For a few seconds, he just stared at her, unsure. Then the exhaustion crept in again. His eyelids fluttered, and before he could really think through his question, the words slipped out.

“Why do people know you?”

Cynthia raised an eyebrow, like she couldn’t believe that was his question.

Myst blinked.

Then his brain clicked into gear again.

“You don’t need to answer of course, I—”

Cynthia cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. “It’s fine if that’s what you want to know. Honestly, I was supposed to tell you anyway. The current champion is a grassroots trainer and well known to dislike people who aren’t,” she added air quotes, “self-made trainers.” She shrugged. “So, for a time, the image of trainers making it completely on their own, doing everything from scratch, has been the image of ‘real’ trainers.”

She gave a bitter smile. “I can’t even say it’s bad, but because of it, a lot of trainers from backgrounds like mine get under a lot of scrutiny. Especially when we have rare Pokémon, people feel like we’re ruining the challenge for ‘normal’ people. As if just having a rare Pokémon means you automatically know how to train it well.”

Cynthia let out a long breath, her eyes briefly flicking away before she continued, her tone hardening just a little. “Anyway, you’ve probably realized already, but there’s a ton of TV programs that cover the gym circuit. At the start of every season, they focus on up-and-comers, making a spectacle of them. I got featured in one of them after I swept Byron. The TV host used me as an example of someone who’s gotten ‘too much help,’ with my grandma being the previous head professor of the region. He felt I couldn’t have possibly beaten the gym without the resources she’s given me, even implying that she simply bought Gabite and Riolu pre-trained. That meant I shouldn’t even be talked about in the same breath as Flint or Volkner, trainers who did the same but came from ‘normal’ backgrounds.”

She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of her jacket. “The clip became the most talked-about segment instantly. Every single TV channel featuring the gym challenge covered it. Every rag in the region had my face on their covers. How much help was too much? How to make things more ‘fair’? If I should’ve started fighting gym leader higher-level teams…”

She paused, “Which isn’t a bad idea, and if somebody gave me that option, I probably would have taken it, but...”

Her shoulders slumped slightly, finishing with a helpless shrug, as if to say, what can you do?

“I—” Myst tried to think of something to say, but his thoughts were moving too slow to form a proper response. His brain refused to cooperate.

So, he defaulted. “That sucks.”

Cynthia shook her head lightly, her smile a little wry. “It’s whatever. Just something I have to deal with… Well, maybe you’ll have to deal with it too, since we’re traveling together now.” She added a teasing smile.

Myst grinned slightly at her words. “Well, maybe I even draw their aggro. Considering Ralts and all.” He leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Then I hit them with the double combo of ‘I’m an orphan’ into ‘and an amnesiac.’ Boom, it’s quad effective.”

Cynthia giggled slightly.

“Well, as I said, it doesn’t matter that much, most trainers don’t really mind. Honestly, meeting those people were just unlucky.”

Myst let out a low laugh, but a sharp twinge of guilt hit him in the chest.

Yeah, never touching this again.

“I guess it’s your turn then?” he said, forcing the words out to change the subject.

Cynthia blinked, then a devious grin crept across her face. “Well, my question is…” She paused for dramatic effect, “how long did you sleep?”

Myst blinked, caught off guard.

Cynthia smiled wider.

Myst raised a finger, attempting to buy himself time.

Cynthia's grin only grew.

Myst tilted the finger slightly forward, "I don’t like this question.”

“Well?” she prompted, eyebrow arched, clearly waiting for an answer.

Myst sighed heavily. “Two.”

“Hours?” she asked, a little skeptical.

“We can go with that,” he tried.

“Seconds, then,” Cynthia retorted.

He shrugged.

Cynthia shot him a pointed look. “Seriously, Myst. You need to sleep, you look like you are about to kneel over. You can even get some sleep right now, I’ll wake you.”

“Hey!” He put his hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t just fall asleep on the ground; it’s bad for my back.”

She gave him a half-lidded stare, unimpressed.

“You slept on the ground for half a year,” she countered coolly.

Myst pursed his lips, his mind stalling for a moment at the comeback.

Cynthia sighed, the edge of her smile softening. “Well, if you don’t want to sleep on the ground, then come here.”

She patted her thighs absentmindedly.

He opened his mouth, then he registered what she just suggested. For a second Myst just stared at her, his mind going blank as his eyes flickered down to the motion.

Instantly, he felt his face burst into flames.

Cynthia stared back at him, her own face slowly flushing a deep shade of pink. “Well… come on. You need to sleep,” she said stubbornly.

Myst’s brain scrambled for a response, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words. None came, instead a huge yawn escaped him, and Cynthia narrowed her eyes, unimpressed.

He attempted to wave her off, trying to protest, but she just huffed, clearly done. In one smooth motion, she grabbed him and, with surprising ease, maneuvered him into her lap, his half-hearted attempt at resisting utterly useless.

“Sleep, seriously,” she said simply, her face still flushed.

Myst's protests died on his lips. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping that his own ears weren’t burning red.

How was he supposed to sleep like this?

Above him, Cynthia let out a soft sigh, and her finger gently brushed through his hair. “Idiot…” she muttered under her breath.

Myst didn’t hear it, his world was already darkness.

Chapter Text

Cynthia wasn’t worried about the upcoming gym battle, she had prepared more than enough.

Sure, Riolu might not have even started on his second planned Custom Move.

And, sure, Queenie still couldn’t use Fire Fang.

And, well, sure, Roselia might not trust her as much as she wanted.

But none of that really mattered.

Why?

Because the second gym badge wasn’t a challenge.

Not really.

She wasn’t the sort of person who looked down on trainers who ended their journey with only two badges, but she understood why some people said the first two didn’t really count.

Because, honestly?

They had a point.

The second Gym was a warm-up, the last badge you could get on a walkover. A test of the basics, if even that, and not some advanced trial meant to separate the good from the great. It even made sense that people had come up with some artificial measure to highlight the trainers who stood out. Of course they wanted people to cheer for, trainers they believed could go far, but sweeping the first two badges didn’t actually prove anything.

Plenty of great trainers never swept their early Gyms.

Hell, plenty of champions never did.

This obsession with proving yourself by sweeping with a single Pokémon was new. A trend that had only caught on in the last decade, a blip in the grand scheme of things.

A fad.

Something people probably wouldn’t even care about in another ten years.

You could even argue the whole concept was harmful. She’d read articles debating whether the pressure to sweep had led trainers to overtrain a single Pokémon, focusing on spectacle over skill. Prioritizing the sweep over actually building a strong, balanced team. After all, pulling it off attracted sponsors, it drew attention, and where money went, people followed.

So, winning with one Pokémon was just that, an idea. A made-up measure of excellence.

Not something she should take seriously.

Not something she should even care about.

Which meant letting Roselia fight before relying on her more experienced Pokémon was the right choice. Like she had used Riolu when challenging Byron, instead of defaulting to Queenie. He needed the experience.

And she wasn’t worried.

She tapped her foot, not quite managing to resist the urge to fidget with the Poké Balls on her belt.

Really, it wasn’t even—

Bop.

Cynthia blinked.

Myst pulled back the finger which had just playfully touched her nose.

“Earth to Cynthia, we see you left orbit two hours ago, but Earth requesting contact to confirm you didn’t die.” Myst said, adding odd static sounds every other word, holding a hand over his mouth.

When she just blinked again, he let out a sigh, letting his hand drop.

“Seriously Cynthia, you can’t just zone out like that, I was hinting at you to help me out.”

“Wha—”

“Where are the words of comfort, Cynthia? I was telling you all about how worried I was, and you just zone out?” He let out a fake sigh, “Here I am, worrying about my first Gym battle, and my friend’s too busy fiddling with her balls to care.”

Cynthia opened her mouth, paused, then glanced at his face.

Myst grinned at her like he had just said something spectacular, when all he had said was something spectacularly stupid.

“Seriously?” She asked.

Myst forced his face into a wounded expression, taking a dramatic step back.

“What, can’t I be worried?” He mimed wiping away a tear. “This is my first Gym battle, and my so-called friend won’t even give me any advice. How am I supposed to interpret that? Like you don’t want me to win?”

Cynthia barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“You’re fine.” She said simply.

Because he was.

For all that he kept downplaying his own abilities, Myst was one of the most talented trainers she had met so far. Rei was a monster, capable of taking on Riolu and winning seven out of ten times… Some of that could, of course, be attributed to Riolu’s feelings on the matter, but even without them Rei probably still held the edge.

The first badge?

Everybody could get it.

It would take a miracle for Myst to lose and even if he did, by some act of divine intervention, lose, he would still probably just be handed the badge anyway.

Because everybody could beat the first two gyms.

“I’m fine?” Myst staggered back like he had taken a critical hit, “I thought you felt I was great, but all I am to you is fine.” He turned away, his nose held up in protest, “I see how it is.”

Cynthia tried to project maximum amount of disapproval into her eyes.

Then she saw Ralts.

Ralts glanced up at her trainer, clearly puzzled, before deciding the only right move was to follow his lead. Without another word she harumphed, turning her head to her side.

Cynthia paused.

It wasn’t that she found Myst funny.

Of course not.

It was just... Ralts.

Too cute for her own good.

Myst turned back, a slight grin on his face and Cynthia held up a hand to hide her own smile.

“You see how it is? Well, at least you can see, since your memory seems to be failing you.”  Cynthia teased back.

Myst gasped dramatically the next instant. “And now you are talking about my memory?”

Cynthia rolled her eyes, “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Myst paused for a moment, and his smile softened slightly, “Well, yeah, of course I know.”

For a moment she stared at him, feeling his bright blue eyes dig into her own. Then he looked away, towards the city.

“Weeeell, two hours until you battle right, feeling ready now?” He asked.

Cynthia opened her mouth to answer, then paused. Slowly she narrowed her eyes as she stared at his back.

“You did that on purpose.” She accused.

Myst turned, the very picture of innocence, “Did what on purpose?”

“You know what you did, and just so you know, I didn’t need it.” She stated.

Cynthia couldn’t deny the slightly warm feeling that filled her though, as Myst let out a casual shrug, smiling brightly.

“Well of course not, but sometimes you don’t get what you need, you get what you deserve.”

….

Most Gym Leader positions were passed down through generations, often staying within a single family. It wasn’t just nepotism. Or, well, it was, but it wasn’t unearned nepotism. A family could hold onto a Gym because they consistently produced powerful trainers, generation after generation.

Find yourself without anyone strong enough to hold the position?

Well, you went the way of the Sunyshore Gym, which had famously changed hands half a dozen times. After all, while you didn’t need to be one of the ten strongest trainers in a region to become a Gym Leader, you at least had to rank in the top hundred, something much easier said than done.

Eterna City Gym was no exception.

The Natane family had dominated the Gym, and the city itself, for centuries. While they no longer held the same stranglehold they had a hundred years ago, they were still the most influential family in the region. And if nothing else, nobody could accuse the current Gym Leader of being weak.

Cynthia winced as the challenger’s Starly slammed into Turtwig, the Grass-type letting out a sharp cry as Wing Attack overpowered its attempted Tackle.

The impact sent it skidding backward, legs trembling as it struggled to stay on its feet.

Benkara, the Gym Leader, was one of Sinnoh’s premier Ranger Captains. By all accounts, he was ranked just below Byron in terms of strength, placing him firmly within Sinnoh’s top ten. Cynthia knew all of that.

Which made it all the more surprising that the Gym was notorious for how low-level its battles were.

“Make it dodge, then heal yourself.” Benkara’s voice was gruff, flat, like he was thinking about something else.

In an instant, the grass on the field bent unnaturally, forming razor-sharp leaves that shot upwards.

Starly, anticipating the attack, took off into the sky, letting the Razor Leaf storm scatter beneath it.

“Finish it off with Quick Attack!” The challenger’s voice rang out.

Starly burst into a white blur, diving straight through the falling leaves like a blade through silk.

Too fast.

Too strong.

It crashed into Turtwig just as the Grass-type began glowing with the telltale light of Synthesis.

Too late.

Turtwig crumpled to the ground.

Cynthia pursed her lips, as Myst nudged her arm.

“Is it just me, or was the Gym Leader a little…” Myst trailed off, hesitant, unsure how to phrase it.

“Unimpressive?” Cynthia finished for him.

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the battlefield.

“Yeah. I mean, I get that this wasn’t exactly an easy matchup, Starly had both a type and mobility advantage, but Turtwig could still have done a lot more. Like, it kept fighting at range instead of trying to bait Starly in or something. Just one Bite, and maybe it could’ve held on, stopped Starly from escaping and ended the fight just like that. Honestly, I get using Razor Leaf at first, but after the third time Starly just dodged, you’d think Benkara would’ve noticed it wasn’t working.”

As Benkara walked over and handed the challenger their badge, Cynthia caught the way the enthusiasm drained out of said challenger.

Not that she could blame him.

Anyone would look like that if they’d just won a badge and the person handing it over looked like they were fantasizing about vanishing into the mountains to avoid dealing with people entirely.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “Not just about this being unimpressive, but about how he could’ve done more. He’s famous for disliking the new, or well, semi-new rules. Especially the ones on the first two Gyms.”

Myst glanced at her, “Rules?”

Cynthia sighed slightly.

“The current Champion thought early Gym battles were too hard, since grassroots trainers don’t have the same resources as, well, you know.” She hesitated, then continued. “So, yeah, they put restrictions in place. No setup moves. No weather effects. And no moves outside of your Pokémon’s typing. That’s what lead to sweeping a Gym being pretty much the only way to stand out now, if they won’t let the Leaders go all out, the challenger has to show off some other way.”

Myst shot her a look, like he was waiting for her to say gotcha at any moment.

She didn’t.

Both eyebrows raised from his face.

“Really?”

Cynthia sighed again.

“Yeah. It’s not exactly public, or well, not public public, but it’s still common knowledge…” she paused, “well, more or less common knowledge.”

Myst hesitated, glancing down at his belt where, uncharacteristically, both of his Pokémon remained in their Poké Balls. "That… that feels wrong, no? I get making Gym Leaders use different teams for challengers, but banning certain moves? That’s… crazy. How are you supposed to get anything out of the first two Gyms at that point? They're meant to be tests, right? What are they even testing if the Leader can’t hit back with proper moves? That the challenger has caught a Pokémon with a type advantage?"

Cynthia just nodded. “I agree. But even then it’s doubly bad for Benkara. He’s known as the best Sun Team specialist in Sinnoh, but like ninety percent of the challengers he gets during a normal circuit are fighting him when he’s not even allowed to set up the sun. I even read somewhere he almost retired on the spot when the rules got introduced.”

Myst cocked his head, “Most people face him first right? Or well, him or Byron I guess. Start in Jubilife and go Oreburgh into Eterna.”

“Yeah. That’s probably the most common route. Because Jubilife’s the biggest city in Sinnoh, and also the cheapest to get to, so most people start there and go to Oreburgh. Eterna is the next logical step, if you don’t want to go through the mountains twice anyway.”

Myst furrowed his brows at her answer, glancing at her. “Then why were you even worried? I mean, if Turtwig’s his ace, I think Ralts has a good shot at sweeping, never mind Roselia.”

Cynthia glanced down at Benkara as he stepped back onto the battlefield, three fresh Poké Balls now clipped to his belt.

“First, that's his ace for first-badge fights. And second, sweeping's different. You’re not just winning, you’re winning with one Pokémon against what’s usually three. More than that, Gym Leaders almost always toss in something way stronger than the usual badge strength to stop it. Like, the most common way a sweep ends is with a countersweep, not with the challanger’s victory.”

“Huh, good to know I guess.” Myst said simply.

For a beat he didn’t say anything, simply watching gym trainers clear up the field, before he glanced back at her.

“I’m kind of surprised though, you seem like you don’t care at all about—"” He stop talking, nodded his head towards the field.

Cynthia grinned and shrugged. “Well, I guess I just realized that sweeping shouldn’t be that much of a problem.” Her smile softened. “And even if I fail, it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

Myst raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not doubting you, Cynthia, but I was kind of referring to the fact that you’re next.”

Cynthia froze.

Her eyes flicked down the battlefield.

Her heart skipped, then slammed back into motion.

Just then, the speakers crackled to life: “Cynthia Shirona, please make your way to the battlefield.”

Her fingers brushed her Poké Balls without thinking.

……

“You’re Carolina’s granddaughter?”

Benkara wasn’t particularly tall, but his presence was immense. With his dark orange hair and his green and orange Ranger Captain uniform, he seemed to claim the entire space around him.

Cynthia nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He paused for a moment, looking her up and down, taking her in.

“I saw your battle against Byron. He took a real beating. Even sent out his Durant to try and stop your Riolu, but it still got smashed into the ground. You made it look easy.” His voice was calm, but Cynthia could hear the ghost of a smile, as though he found the fact that Byron lost so dramatically intensely satisfying.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was easy,” Cynthia tried for a shrug, but it came out as an akward stutter motion instead. “But… I had it planned out.”

At that, he actually smiled. “Well, couldn’t happen to a better guy. Honestly, him supporting...” Benkara cut himself off with a sigh. “Nevermind. You here for your second badge?”

When she nodded, he let out another sigh. “Well, I guess we do standard rules then? Considering you’ve got, eh,” he pulled a note from his pocket, glancing at it quickly, “three Pokémon registered for the challenge, we’ll do three-on-three?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” She replied stiffly.

Benkara sighed again and looked up at the stadium. It was early, Thursday morning, and the stands were nearly empty, save for half a dozen spectators. His shoulders slumped slightly as he turned to walk to his side of the field.

Then he paused.

“How would you feel about doing something a little different?” he asked suddenly.

Cynthia stopped mid-turn. “What do you mean?”

“Since your Carolina’s granddaughter, you know about our restrictions, right?”

Cynthia nodded slowly, “Sure.”

He glanced at the nearby camera, recording silently. Then he stepped closer, dropping his voice just enough to feel conspiratorial.

“You’ve gotten a lot of attention lately. Almost impressive, how you managed to flare up that debate again.” His eyes locked onto hers. “So your plan was to sweep me, right? Hoped to get the public on your side for once. Prove you’re the real deal, not just some rich girl who bought her team.”

She froze.

Sure, the plan had been to sweep him, but…

It felt wrong to hear those words come from his mouth. She nodded slowly, feeling like it was the only right option.

Benkara grinned, his eyes lighting up just slightly. “Then how about this? You know as well as me that people won’t care if you sweep me, so lets do something more serious. We forget those stupid restrictions, let’s do a real battle. I’ll use a team built for someone going after their fourth badge, and you bring your best. Three-on-three, no holding back. The way these battles were meant to be.”

Cynthia stared at him.

Then she clenched her fist. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about doing something like this, she had, but…

She hadn’t been sure.

Would it help, really, to ask to challenge a Gym Leader’s higher-level team? It wasn’t like it was unheard of, especially when a trainer came over from another region. They often asked to fight a Gym Leader’s real team, not just the ones tailored for newer challengers.

It was just that they could prove they were strong enough to handle it, usually having eight badges from their own region. When a new trainers asked, somebody without anything to show for it? Well, it was frowned upon to say it lightly.

While Pokémon rarely got hurt, Aura protecting them, there were limits.

If you challenged someone far stronger than you, and their Pokémon were way beyond your own, a single move could cripple your team. That had been a huge issue in the first few years after they changed the Gym system. Too many overconfident trainers had asked to fight stronger teams to prove themselves, and ended up with badly hurt Pokémon for the trouble.

Hell, that was half the reason people came up with the whole sweep idea.

Either way, from what she knew, in recent years Gym Leaders usually gave one unequivocal answer when asking to challenge higher-level teams.

No.

So even though she flirted with the idea, it simply hadn’t registered as a real option.  She let a single finger brush over the Poké Ball that contained Queenie.

Her heart settled slightly as she took in Benkara.

He was imposing.

His question should have been something she would have to think about.

But she didn’t need to.

A slight grin crept onto her face. It was almost odd.

She hadn’t been nervous, not really.

But when she arrived at the battlefield?

It was like the world quieted down, like some part of her shifted into place. Every time she was getting ready to battle, it felt like this. Like some missing part of her slotted back in.

Cynthia tilted her head up, just slightly. “Bring it on then.”

…….

“At the request of the Gym Leader, this battle will take place at fourth-badge level strength. It will be a three-on-three, a single switch allowed, but with no additional rules.” The referee’s voice rang out across the field.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cynthia saw the shift ripple through the stands, the way heads turned, postures straightened, and murmurs spread.

People realizing something was different.

“On the right side, we have our challenger, Cynthia Shirona, from Celestic Town,” the referee continued, raising his right hand. “And on the left, Gym Leader Benkara Natane of Eterna City.”

Cynthia drew a Poké Ball from her belt. It expanded in her palm, cool and solid, grounding her. Across the field, Benkara smiled, mirroring the motion.

“Trainers, release your Pokémon!”

“Roselia, let’s show them how legends are made!”

“Grotle, let them see how scary the forest can be!”

With twin flashes of red light, the Pokémon burst onto the field.

Roselia landed with the grace of a stage performer, one foot forward, red scruffy scarf fluttering like silk caught in the breeze. One flowery hand swept into a bow, the other tucked behind his back like he’d stepped out of a play.

Grotle’s paws thudded against the dirt as it materialized, squat and sturdy, leaves rustling as it let out a low growl.

Grace and bravado versus grounded strength.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, her fingers twitching toward her Pokédex, but she stopped herself. She didn’t need it and using it now would just look like showing off. Grotle was the Grass-type in Sinnoh. She didn’t need a digital voice to tell her what she already knew.

The referee stepped back.

“Let the battle begin!”

Roselia didn’t wait for Cynthia’s command.

He raised one elegant, flowery hand—

And launched a burst of Poison Stings in a wide, sweeping arc. Violet thorns glittered in the sun like shards of glass.

“Withdraw!” Benkara barked.

Grotle responded instantly, tucking into its shell-like armor just in time. The Poison Stings clattered harmlessly off its hardened carapace, pinging away in every direction.

It was solid defense, letting Grotle avoid the attack with nary a scratch.

But it also bought Roselia time, which was all he wanted in the first place.

All Cynthia wanted.

“Growth!”

Roselia halted mid-pose and dropped to one knee, hands pressed to the ground. Green energy surged up through his body a heartbeat later, vines of light flickering across his body and scarf.

“Disrupt it!” Benkara called out.

Grotle didn’t bother moving close.

It didn’t even bother being fast.

Where Roselia went for tricks Grotle answered with brute force.

A single foreleg slammed into the dirt.

The ground heaved.

A wave of light-brown, rippling energy exploded outward, shaking the battlefield. Roselia faltered, caught mid-Growth, as the Ground-type move forced his body down, green energy crackling and twisting under the weight of the surge.

Bulldoze.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes.

Roselia staggered as he tried to right himself, forced low by the rippling tremors. The weight behind the attack dragged at his limbs, the Bulldoze wasn’t just a strike, it pressed, like gravity itself had thickened around him.

And Grotle didn’t hesitate.

Before Roselia could recover, the bulky Grass-type was already charging. Each step a heavy thud across the torn-up battlefield as dark energy pooled around its jaws.

Roselia lifted one trembling hand.

Not to block.

To strike.

Every blade of grass and loose leaf ripped from the battlefield in response, whirling into the air like a cyclone.

Magical Leaf.

The attack burst forth in a whirling storm, slicing through the air like flying daggers. The sheer volume overwhelming, forcing Grotle to slow and shut its eyes against the storm of glowing blades.

But it wasn’t enough to stop it.

Cynthia forced herself to not smirk.

It didn’t need to be.

Grotle powered through, eyes snapping open at the last second as it lunged, jaws clamping down hard.

They hit.

But found nothing.

Grotle’s fangs sank into leaves.

Roselia’s form flickered and dissolved into a flurry of shredded foliage.

It was probably Roselia’s signature trick at this point, a Custom Move he had figured out even before Cynthia had started training him.

A seamless blend of Double Team and Magical Leaf.

Grotle let out a grunt of confusion, then its eyes locked onto the real danger.

The real Roselia stood just beyond the fading illusion, one hand raised, hand petals curled elegantly around a shimmering, poisonous leaf.

Grotle’s body tensed.

“Protec—t!”

Too late.

Roselia blew gently on the leaf, and it sailed forward like a razor-edged dart.

The moment it struck, the poison seeped into Grotle’s body, its aura flaring green, then dimming, tinged with an unnatural, sickly purple.

Cynthia smiled slightly.

When they’d first started training, Roselia had relied almost entirely on his Grass-type attacks. He’d used powder moves to inflict status, setting up elaborate traps before finishing opponents with a grand, decisive blow.

That was a problem when challenging a Grass-type Gym.

Powder moves simply didn’t work against fellow Grass-types, and even ignoring that, they were notoriously bulky and had some of the best recovery tools of any type. Trying to finish them in one hit with a not-very-effective move was a fool’s errand. Which was why she had focused on honing his Poison-type skills, specifically.

Grotle let out a cry as its aura contracted, the poison already starting to burn.

Toxic.

Bankara’s eyes narrowed.

“That was…” He paused, then shook his head. “Never mind. Grotle, you’ve got a curse on you, you’re on a timer. Time to step it up a notch!”

Roselia adjusted his scarf slightly, opening a single eye, like he was checking if they were actually saying something that cliché.

Apparently, they were.

Grotle let out a growl, but just didn’t do anything.

Cynthia blinked.

The Grotle was just… standing there? Its body trembled faintly, legs shaking, the poison clearly working through its system.

And yet it made no effort to defend itself.

Roselia hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder toward her, confused. Then, with a shrug, he dipped low and let the green light of Growth surge through him once more.

Cynthia’s stomach dropped.

At the sight of that glow, of Roselia wasting time instead of finishing the battle, her brain clicked into place.

Oh shit.

“Finish it off, NOW!” she shouted, voice sharper than she meant it to be.

Roselia, tilted his head, then paused for a moment.

That split second—

“BULLDOZE!”

—was all it took.

Grotle heaved its leg like it was dragging a mountain.

Roselia raised a hand, purple energy already forming into a Venoshock.

The ground ruptured beneath him as the Curse-boosted Bulldoze detonated across the field.

Cynthia stumbled, dust clouding her vision.

And Roselia’s cry of pain tore through the haze.

Cynthia lifted an arm against the dust, eyes straining through the swirling field.

He was still standing.

Barely.

Both flowery hands were braced against the ground, breath ragged as the slowing effect of Bulldoze dragged at him, heavy and punishing. Sure, the boosts were still there. But sweeping the rest of the gym?

Not happening. They’d be lucky to take out even one more Pokémon.

Her chance at a clean win was gone, over before it had even begun.

She’d expected it, of course. This wasn’t a second badge Gym anymore. His team right now was meant for trainers challenging their fourth. Bankara wasn’t holding back on strategy or move choices.

Still, it stung to see Roselia drag himself upright, wobbling from the blow.

“Grotle is unable to battle, may the Gym Leader release their next Pokémon!”

Because she realized the truth.

This was her fault.

If she’d understood Bankara’s goal a moment earlier, if she’d called the attack a moment earlier. Roselia’s hesitation wouldn’t have mattered.

“You did a good job, Grotle. Return.”

Bankara’s voice was soft as he recalled his Pokémon, the red beam pulling the exhausted Grotle back into its ball.

When Cynthia glanced at him, he was already looking at her.

“Your Roselia’s clever. Skilled, too.” His deep voice was calm, but she could see the slight smile on his face. “But it looks like you two aren’t fully in sync yet?”

He tilted his head toward Roselia, who was using the brief pause in battle to catch his breath.

Bankara nodded once. “Well, he’s well trained, if nothing else. Would’ve been a clean battle if I hadn’t pulled a trick of my own.”

He reached down and plucked another Poké Ball from his belt, letting it expand in his hand.

“But I guess I’ll need to turn up the heat a little, give you a proper challenge.”

With a casual flick, he tossed the ball onto the field.

It burst open in a flash of light, and the form that materialized—

“Sunflora!”

Cynthia gave the Pokémon exactly one second to orient itself.

And as it locked onto Roselia she figured that was enough.

“Don’t let it set up!”

This time, Roselia didn’t hesitate.

He raised a hand, and poison-tinged energy gathered around him like lances, sharp and thrumming. With a flick, they fired straight at Sunflora.

“Trailblaze!” Benkara’s voice rang out just as the attack closed in.

Sunflora was slow by nature, but even slow Pokémon could move fast if they had the right incentive. Green light erupted at its feet, wrapping around its limbs. The grass beneath it shimmered, seeming to lose all resistance.

With a single graceful step, Sunflora slid just out of the path of the toxic blast.

Shit.

Cynthia felt her thoughts race as she realized that trying get Roselia to hit Sunflora with his current condition would be almost impossible.

They needed an edge.

“Get cover!” Cynthia shouted.

Roselia raised his still trembling hands.

Then he clapped.

Golden spores burst from his body, thick as fog, Stun Spore, blanketing the battlefield in a cloud of drifting paralysis.

It wouldn’t paralyze a fellow Grass-type.

It also wasn’t the point.

She didn’t need the spores to affect Sunflora, she just didn’t want it to see. Of course, every tactic had a cost.

“Set up the sun for us!” Benkara called, grinning.

A red-tinged beam of energy cut through the fog, firing skyward from somewhere within the clouded battlefield.

It burst overhead like a flare.

Instantly, the sky shifted, washed in a deep, heated red. Cynthia felt the change as if a lens had dropped over the sun itself.

The air turned hot.

Heavy.

Fire-type energy surged across the battlefield in waves, coating the field in invisible flame.

A lot of young trainers made the mistake of thinking that letting a Grass-type set up Sunny Day was foolish. Boosting Fire-type moves against your own team?

Rookie error.

They had never encountered a Solar Power Sunflora.

Because sometimes—

“Petal Blizzard!”

—raw power was enough to sweep everything aside.

The fog exploded in an instant, shredded by a spiralling hurricane of gleaming leaves. A storm of petals, sharp as blades, roared across the battlefield. The sheer force of the move tore into the ground, ripping deep gashes in the dirt. Any Pokémon caught in it, especially one weakened like Roselia, should’ve been obliterated.

Key word: caught in it.

Benkara scanned the field, eyes narrowing. But he couldn’t find Roselia.

“Wha—”

Cynthia didn’t answer, didn’t look at him.

Her gaze was locked on Sunflora, who, for the record, looked just as confused.

So that was how I looked, I guess.

As the cloud of golden spores was ripped from the air by the storm’s winds, Cynthia spotted him, floating in the uppermost layer of the dispersing mist.

Roselia hovered in the sky, wings of shimmering leaves spread wide, his body backlit by sunlight.

In his hands: a single lance of Poison-type energy.

A Venoshock, condensed to a needlepoint, pulsing with the energy of multiple Growth boosts.

The leaf-wings dissolved.

Roselia began to fall.

Any other trainer might’ve hesitated, might’ve frozen, let the final strike land before they realized the danger.

Benkara wasn’t any other trainer.

His eyes never even flicked upward.

“SOLAR BEAM STRAIGHT UP!”

Cynthia’s mouth opened in shock.

It was too late.

Normally, the move would take time to charge. Normally, it needed prep.

But not in sunlight.

Not with Solar Power.

A searing green laser exploded skyward, blasting into Roselia mid-drop. The impact sent him spinning, the light flinging him higher before gravity reclaimed him.

Cynthia choked back a scream, arm shooting forward. The red light of the Poké Ball absorbed Roselia in midair, just before he crashed to the ground.

She let out a sigh of relief, placed the ball back in her belt, and glanced up.

Sunflora stood proud, but its left arm drooped, slightly curled in pain. Poison laced along the petals.

The lance had hit.

Somehow.

“You did fantastic, Roselia,” Cynthia whispered, before speaking loudly, “I retire Roselia!”

The referee nodded slightly, “Roselia is unable to battle, may the challenger please release their next Pokémon!”

Cynthia didn’t hesitate, not wanting to give Sunflora a second longer than needed to recover.

“Take him out fast.”

Riolu materialized onto the field, his eyes locking onto Sunflora in an instant.

“Magical Leaf!” Benkara’s command came out the moment Riolu's stance shifted toward Sunflora.

Green energy ignited around the Grass-type like wildfire. With a sweeping motion of its arm, every leaf scattered across the battlefield glowed, each one coated in brilliant Grass-type energy, like miniature daggers of light.

“Leaf Defence!” Cynthia barked.

The glowing storm surged toward Riolu.

But he didn’t flinch.

His eyes narrowed, flashing blue for a heartbeat.

His paws shimmered, lengthening into long, shining claws.

For a single breath, Riolu wasn’t a Pokémon anymore.

He was a lawnmower.

He stepped forward, not dodging.

But slicing, deflecting, dancing through the torrent of flying leaves. Each claw met its mark with perfect timing, cutting a glowing trail through the air as he carved through the barrage with mechanical precision.

From the other side, Bankara let out a thoughtful noise.

“A Custom Move?” he said, voice low and impressed.

Cynthia blinked, half-focused on the rhythm of Riolu’s motion. He hadn’t said anything about Roselia’s version. Did he really not—

“To think you’ve managed to train two different Pokémon to do something like that,” Bankara continued, arms crossing as he watched.

His smile turned wide, teeth gleaming under the artificial sunlight.

“That’s impressive.”

Then he feel silent, watching as Riolu slowly crept closer.

Five meters.

Three meters.

One meter.

Only when Riolu was right there, nearly touching, did Bankara speak again.

“Weather Ball.”

The shimmering energy holding the scattered leaves aloft collapsed in an instant, dropping them harmlessly around the combatants.

Sunflora’s hands glowed red, a sphere of pulsing Fire-type energy formed between them.

Riolu surged forward, fists shifting to a frigid blue as Ice Punch ignited along his knuckles.

Sunflora looked up.

Their eyes met.

And then—

Sunflora grinned.

Ice Punch slammed into its face.

The Weather Ball in its hands exploded.

A flash of white-red flame engulfed them both.

The heatwave alone forced Cynthia to shield her eyes. When the light faded, she opened them again, and frowned.

Sunflora was worse off, way worse off.

But it should’ve been a clean exchange. Riolu was fast, too fast for Sunflora to ever truly match. More than that his Leaf Defence was near perfect for countering ranged Grass-type attacks. He shouldn’t have taken real damage.

She just didn’t anticipate Sunflora blowing itself up alongside Riolu.

Still…

Sunflora was worse off.             

“Press him, Riolu!”

She barely needed to say it.

Riolu was already moving, flickering forward in a streak of light, Quick Attack closing the gap that had formed in a heartbeat.

Sunflora tried to do something, it was just—

Too slow.

Riolu’s palm lit up gold and Force Palm smashed square into Sunflora’s midsection.

Sunflora staggered back but still managed to snap out a half-dozen glowing tendrils of green.

Riolu’s eyes flashed blue, and he spun through them like water around stone, untouched.

Force Palm slammed into its gut.

Ice Punch cracked against its arm.

Low Kick swept its legs out from under it.

As Sunflora began to fall, Benkara saw the writing on the wall.

He raised his hand.

“I retire Sunflora!” he called, voice firm.

A red beam snagged the falling Pokémon mid-air, returning it to its ball before it hit the ground, just as Cynthia had done with Roselia earlier.

"Sunflora is unable to battle. May the Gym Leader release their next Pokémon!"

This time, Benkara didn't say anything. He simply threw his ball into the air, and with a roar, Tropius materialized from the red light. Instantly, without any movement from the Pokémon itself, Cynthia saw the Grass-Type energy swirling around Tropius' body, the sun’s rays amplifying it.

Most of the energy spread lightly around its form, but there was one spot that caught her attention.

Where its body shimmered—

Its legs glowed.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes.

It probably had both of its abilities.

That was what made Grass-types under the sun so frightening, how well their abilities synergized with each other. Tropius was already a formidable opponent, but with both Chlorophyll and Solar Power? It didn’t matter that it was usually a defensive Pokémon, it was still going to be absurdly fast and hit incredibly hard.

Cynthia let her eyes glide over to Riolu. He stood tall, but it was hard to say if he could take on Tropius. The Weather Ball had done some damage, and as good as his Leaf Defence was, he had also taken hits from Magical Leaf.

Of course, the optimal move might still be to let him fight, but…

Cynthia’s gaze dropped to her side, where Queenie’s Poké Ball rested untouched. It had been far too long since she’d had a reason to battle alongside her oldest partner.

And this?

This felt like an opportunity.

"I use my switch!" Cynthia called out, and the referee nodded, acknowledging her decision.

She raised a hand and returned Riolu.

Then, with a quick motion, Cynthia grabbed Queenie's Poké Ball. A flick of her wrist, and her oldest partner emerged onto the field.

Queenie didn’t make an entrance with a dramatic roar or any flashy display of dominance. No, she appeared with a grunt, casting a glance over her shoulder at Cynthia, as though asking, Why am I out here now?

"Change of plans. You’re up, Queenie," Cynthia said calmly.

She couldn't help but smile as her heartbeat quickened. Her eyes flicked toward the stands, where Myst was watching. His eyes were locked onto Queenie, and even from here, she could make out his lips moving, mumbling something under his breath.

Cynthia felt her smile became a grin, and she had to force herself focus back onto the battle.

“Want to show Myst how powerful you really are, Queenie?” Cynthia asked, her voice low and quiet, a challenge hidden within.

Queenie simply grunted in response, taking a single, deliberate step forward.

Benkara’s gaze narrowed, "Solar Beam, full power!"

Tropius roared, its wings flaring as a blinding light gathered within its mouth. The Solar Beam charged within a second with the energy of the sun, even starting to hum as it’s barely contained power desperately tried to break free.

If any of her other Pokémon were on the field, Cynthia might have felt a flicker of concern.

But Queenie?

No.

Queenie was something else.

Cynthia’s voice was quiet but resolute. "Destroy it."

Queenie’s eyes sparked with anticipation. Her body tensed, the energy building inside her. She let out a low grunt, and her talons began to shimmer with the glow of pure draconic power.

She didn’t need to be told anything more.

She was already in motion.

Tropius unleashed the Solar Beam with a roar, the massive beam of green light hurtling toward Queenie like a comet. The ground below cracked and splintered as the energy carved its path through the air, a devastating force tearing through space.

Queenie just grinned.

Her movements were a blur, too fast for the human eye to track. She darted forward with a burst of speed that seemed impossible for something so large and as Tropius’ Solar Beam hurtled toward her, Queenie raised her claws, her talons glowing.

Dragon Claw.

With a sound like thunder cracking the sky, Queenie met the Solar Beam head-on.

And Solar Beam lost.

The beam was cleaved in two, the energy splintering like glass under the force of Queenie’s strike. It’s destructive power evaporated into nothing as Queenie’s talon tore through it, the two attacks dissipating in the air.

Tropius froze in shock, its mouth still agape from the now-destroyed Solar Beam, a brief flicker of confusion in its eyes.

“Chase.” Cynthia’s voice rang out.

Without missing a beat, Queenie surged forward, her body a streak of motion.

"Take off!" Benkara barked.

Still too late.

Tropius, still reeling from the destruction of its Solar Beam, tried to lift off, its wings struggling to catch the air.

Queenie was already on it.

White energy surged down her limbs, shaping into massive, gleaming claws. Queenie slashed forward in a blur, grabbing hold of Tropius’s left wing. The strike was like a cannon going off, air burst around the impact point as Tropius roared in pain, forced downward by the sheer weight of Queenie’s blow.

But it wasn’t down yet.

With speed that bellied it size, Tropius forced itself away, just long enough to form two massive leaves, then hurled them with brutal force straight at Queenie.

It was probably the most powerful Razor Leaf Cynthia had seen.

It still wasn’t meant to be.

Queenie’s mouth opened wide, and blue flames erupted from her throat, roaring like a dragon’s fury. The Dragon Rage hit the leaves head-on, its intense power shredding them to ash in an instant.

Tropius wasn’t done yet, though.

Its body turned brilliant white, energy crackling as it charged forward, Body Slam aimed to crush Queenie beneath its full, terrible weight. The field trembled with every step, the air shaking as Tropius threw everything it had into one final, devastating charge.

It was the last mistake Tropius would get to make.

Queenie didn’t move.

She planted her feet. The earth cracked beneath her talons. She braced.

And Tropius hit her like a runaway train.

BOOM!

The impact rang out across the field.

But Tropius stopped.

Its charge came to an immediate and violent halt, like it had slammed into a wall that refused to yield. The energy of its momentum vanished in an instant.

Queenie didn’t flinch.

She let out a low, satisfied grunt, her talons dug into the battlefield like anchors.  The earth beneath them had shaken, but Queenie stood tall, completely unfazed.

Tropius, stunned by the failed attack, hovered in momentary shock.

Queenie didn’t waste it. In one swift, clean motion, she lashed upward with her Dragon Claw. The gleaming talons arced through the air, catching the light as they carved straight toward Tropius’s throat.

The blow landed.

Tropius was driven down hard, crashing into the battlefield with a thunderous slam.

And the ground?

The ground was where Gabite hunted their prey.

The fight was decided just like that.

…

As she sat down, Cynthia couldn’t quite stop grinning.

“You look creepy,” Myst said.

Considering his own grin was just about as creepy, Cynthia decided he wasn’t allowed to throw stones. Still, she forced her mouth into something resembling a straight line.

“Well, you look like you forgot.”

Myst blinked, suspicious. “Forgot what?”

Cynthia tilted her head toward the battlefield, eyes gleaming. “That you’re next.”

Chapter Text

Watching Myst step onto the battlefield, Cynthia couldn't help but sigh.

Some of it was relief, the tension finally draining from her body, the weight lifting now that she held the cool metal badge in her hand.

The rest?

Myst’s eyes caught hers and he smiled.

Then, in true Myst fashion, he exaggerated a bow and waved like the crowd watching had shown up just for him. He even blew a couple of dramatic kisses towards the crowd, who rumbled humorously at the sight.

Her cheeks warmed despite herself.

It was almost infuriating.

Almost.

Because no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She gave him a small, exasperated wave.

Myst froze mid-stride when he saw it, then lit up like a child at a festival. His grin stretching so wide that she could see the flash of his teeth even from across the field.

Honestly.

She rolled her eyes and made shooing motions, pointing toward Benkara, who was standing at his side of the field with an expression that hovered somewhere between puzzled and mildly offended. Probably wondering why he, the actual Gym Leader, was being so thoroughly ignored. To be fair, most people entered their first Gym battle at least a little nervous, maybe even a little star struck. Gym Leaders were celebrities, after all.

Never mind that it was just their first badge, and no one really expected much from them.

Never mind a lot of them were still standing across from their childhood idols.

It was still their first.

That mattered.

Myst?

He walked like he was on a leisurely hike through the woods. Like the battle was just a quick detour. He only turned to face Benkara once he was halfway across the field, as though he'd only just remembered why he was there in the first place. Then when he met Benkara in the middle, he opened his mouth to speak.

Benkara answered something back.

They exchanged a few quick words. Cynthia strained her ears, trying to make out the words through the low hum of the crowd. But it was all muffled, drowned out by the noise and the distance.

Still…

Something felt off.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, watching them closely. She couldn't hear their words, but their body language said enough. Benkara raised an eyebrow at something Myst said, then gave a short reply that made Myst blink, visibly confused.

Myst answered, and Benkara let out a sigh so heavy she could almost hear it from where she sat.

Then Myst gestured—

Towards her.

Benkara followed the motion, and when his gaze landed on her, he rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth and said something just loud enough for her to catch the tail end of it:

“—is different from you.”

Cynthia froze, her heart skipping a beat as a cold feeling slid down her spine. Different from her how?

A dozen answers leapt into her mind, tangling together. So she didn’t notice—

The way Myst glanced her way. Just a flicker, before he turned back to Benkara.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again and said something else.

But Cynthia didn’t even bother trying to understand what he said.

No.

Instead her brain paused for a moment, every thought vanishing as she locked onto his expression.

Unsure.

Myst was a lot of things.

Kind.

Stupid.

Genuine.

Her friend.

But above all that—

Myst was frustrating.

Not because of his jokes. Not because of his stupid smile. Not even because of the way his blue eyes darkened whenever someone tried to talk behind her back, like she needed somebody to protect her.

No. None of those were the frustrating part.

Those things?

They were annoying, sure. Quirky? Well, she couldn’t exactly throw stones. Maybe she could, even as loath as she was to admit it, call them charming.

But that didn’t excuse him, didn’t change how he sometimes simply—

Didn’t believe in himself.

It didn’t happen often. It wasn’t that noticeable. But when it did happen? She wanted to strangle him. Her hands tightened on the bar again as she watched Benkara answer with a dismissive shake of his head.

The coldness slipped deeper into her bones. Benkara let her battle at a higher level.

He’d given her advice.

Had spoken to her like it was obvious she was talented. Like it was obvious she could handle a higher level battle. She’d thought that meant he understood, that he’d seen past the fanfare surrounding her name and recognized what she could do, not just who she was. Her fingers drifted to Queenie’s Poké Ball, thumb brushing its smooth surface.

Benkara’s earlier words replayed in her mind.

“You Carolina’s granddaughter?”

It was stupid, maybe she was just overthinking. He could have a million reasons for being so dismissive with Myst.

But…

Now she was remembering what being a generational Gym Leader really meant.  What it meant to be part of the Natane clan, and what it meant for her to be a Shriona. She stood still, one hand resting on the railing—

And didn’t notice how it slowly turned white.

….

For what felt like minutes, Cynthia just stared at the field, her thoughts blazing. Her eyes locked onto Benkara, like if she watched him long enough, closely enough, his movements might give something away.

But they didn’t.

Of course not.

Cynthia wasn’t some kind of empath, after all… not that it stopped her from scanning him anyway. Taking in the easy confidence in his stride as he walked over to a nearby table and picked up a couple of Poké Balls. Noticing the way his face slipped back into that same unreadable mask he’d worn while facing the challenger before her.

So, when the referee stepped onto the field, she felt it.

“On our left we have Gym Leader Benkara Natane of Eterna city.”

The coldness?

It gave away.

Gave away to something hot.

Myst stepped forward and reached for a Poké Ball.

Cynthia’s eyes stayed locked on Benkara. She didn’t know exactly what Myst had asked. Didn’t know why Benkara had reacted like that.

“On our right we have our challenger, Myst—”

But she did know one thing. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, voice echoing through the arena:

“MYST! YOU SMASH HIM, OKAY? DON’T YOU DARE HOLD BACK!”

Myst froze mid-step, and Cynthia felt her heart give a little prick…

Because when Myst turned toward her—

He wasn’t smiling.

……….

“By the challenger’s request, this will be a two-on-three battle.”

Even though she didn’t regret it, really, Cynthia still had to force herself not to curl into a fetal position as the referee continued after her minor interruption.

“The challenger has registered two Pokémon.”

Just because she’d screamed at the top of her lungs, like, really screamed, and made everyone turn to look, didn’t necessarily mean they knew it was her.

Right?

“As compensation, the challenger is granted one switch.”

And really, even if people did notice, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Cheering on your friends was a normal, completely fine, totally acceptable thing to do.

Totally.

Acceptable.

“The Gym Leader will have none. The battle will be at a one-badge level.”

Honestly, even if they had realized it was her, it wasn’t like anybody had recorded—

Her gaze locked on a camera.

A very professional-looking one, pointed directly at the battlefield.

And through it, directly at the stands.

“May both trainers release their first Pokémon?”

Shit.

For a moment, Cynthia stared blankly into the lens. So blankly, in fact, that she almost missed Benkara speaking, his voice cracking over the speakers.

“You ready?”

Myst didn’t answer, he just threw his Poké Ball. A burst of red light, and Ralts stood on the battlefield.

The crowd, buzzing with low murmurs, paused at once. Her small form, already striking, was made even more noticeable by the glint of her blue cap. Ralts were rare Pokémon, but because of their strength and looks, they were still famous. Famous enough that a crowd willing to show up for early-season Gym matches could recognize what that blue meant.

Shiny.

Ralts looked around, visibly thrilled—

—for all of two seconds.

Then she stilled.

She glanced behind her, toward Myst and stood there for a moment, just looking at her trainer.

Cynthia didn’t know why, but the hairs on her arm rose as Ralts tilted her head slightly… and then, slowly, mechanically, turned back toward Benkara. Her eyes hidden beneath her cap.

Benkara raised an eyebrow, then straightened, his expression shifting subtly as he took in Ralts.

“Well then,” Benkara muttered, straightening and reaching for his own Poké Ball, “guess you are.”

He tossed it.

“Let’s show him flowers have thorns, Budew!”

With a flash of red, the small Grass-type landed on the field with a determined cry.

For a moment the two Pokemon took in each other, but before anything could happened the referee nodded, raised his hand one last time, and—

“Let the battle begin!”

Cynthia tensed.

And tensed.

And kept tensing.

Ten seconds passed. Nothing happened.

She let herself breathe. Mostly because still nothing was happening.

Benkara blinked. “You’re not going to take the first move?”

Myst tilted his head, as if considering the question for the first time. Then he shrugged. “Why would I?”

Benkara frowned. “Excuse me?”

Myst continued, calm as ever. “I saw you battle that other guy, the one before Cynthia. If you’re planning to use Pokémon at that level, with that kind of direction…” He tilted his head the other way. “Then, like I told you, that’s the only move you’re gonna be allowed to make…” He paused for a moment, before opening his mouth, his words taking on a slightly biting tone, “No offense, of course.”

Benkara’s frown deepened. “I told you, comparing yourself to somebody like—” He cut himself off when he noticed Myst just rolling his eyes, “Ok, I see you are not listening. Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll just start. Budew—”

The little grass-poison type looked up—

“Poison Sting!”

— and let out a cry as its Poison-type energy flowed through its body, only using half a second to form a dozen small needles.

Then, in a split second, they launched forward, aiming towards Ralts.

Cynthia blinked at their speed and amount. Or more accurately, the lack of both.

“Stop it.” Myst’s voice rang out.

It was flat.

Not that he needed to say anything, Ralts had already raised a hand, its eyes glowing purple.

And the needles—

Froze.

From a hundred to zero, they just stopped, stuck midair, like physics had given up.

Huh.

In response to the manhandling of its attack Budew cried out, its small body trembling with the effort of trying to will the attack forward.

It didn’t matter.

The needles remained suspended, harmless in the air. Ralts didn’t even blink, she held her pose a few more seconds… Then flicked her wrist. The needles veered sharply and buried themselves in the dirt, neatly, as if placed there by hand.

The silence that followed was deafening.

During her battle, Cynthia could barely think over the roar of the crowd, the chaos of moves slamming back and forth.  The crowd cheering after every clash.

Now?

She could even hear the soft hum of type energy dissolving.

Benkara’s eyes flickered towards the ground, at the type energy having formed them running out of steam. His mouth still moved though.

“Absor—”

Ralts didn’t let Budew even think about following that command.

She simply vanished, then reappeared, right in front of Budew, her hand tapping gently against its forehead.

Hypnosis.

It didn’t make a sound, but Cynthia could see it, the gentle waves of psychic energy radiating outward. Budew staggered, eyes blinking slowly as the half-formed Absorb it had tried to conjure fizzling into nothing.

“Shake it off—Worry Seed, on yourself!” Benkara snapped, a sudden urgency in his voice.

Cynthia wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, her eyes were fixed on Ralts.

She knew how Rei fought, brutal, fast, and wild, with instinct guiding her every move. The bunny loved battle like it was a game and never looked happier than when she was smashing her ears into someone’s face.

If Myst had been any other trainer she would imagine Ralts would fight a similar way. Most trainers operated like that, with a single real style, a single main typing. It made things easier; you could train your Pokémon together, you could have Pokémon teach moves to each other, making your entire team power up faster.

She didn’t know why she imagined Myst would be similar.

Because Ralts?

Wild was the furthest thing from her opening move.

No, this was controlled.

Almost surgical.

Budew forced itself upright and flooded itself with Grass-type energy, forming a single seed and swallowing it down.

It didn’t matter.

Ralts didn’t wait.

Another teleport, this time behind.

Distracted by the effort of using Worry Seed to shake of the Hypnosis the Grass-type didn’t notice.

“Behind you!”

Didn’t have time to notice.

Ralts entire body flared a brilliant purple.

Confusion.

A psychic field exploded around Budew, its body outlined in blinding violet as it lifted helplessly off the ground.

Budew screamed.

“Stun Spore!” Benkara’s voice cracked with panic.

Cynthia felt her chest clench. Not because she feared for Ralts or thought Myst would somehow lose. But because—

Ralts could multitask.

Disgustingly well.

Before the spores had time to spread another purple shimmer surrounded them, Confusion moulded into a barrier.

Then it shrunk.

The cloud collapsed inward, drawn to Budew like a vacuum.

Cynthia winced as the yellow spores coated its body in a suffocating film, so thick she couldn’t even see its face anymore.

And Ralts still hadn’t taken a single step.

“Finish it please.”

Ralts nodded and raised her other hand. A deep purple ball of energy began to gather, crackling as Budew struggled helplessly in the air, writhing against the crushing grip of Psychic-type power.

Cynthia already knew it wouldn’t be able to break free. She could see it, the disturbance in the green Grass-type energy Budew tried to form giving it away.

Budew was confused.

“Ralts,” Ralts said, her voice cold and regal, like an empress passing judgment.

A spiraling beam of Psychic energy burst from her palm, crashing toward’s Budew with merciless precision.

Psybeam.

“I retire Budew!” Benkara didn’t hesitate more than a second. A flash of red light snatched Budew from Ralts’ grasp just before Psybeam could land.

Silence stretched and even the referee seemed at a loss, uncertain how to respond to a battle like that.

Cynthia understood why. Even when a Pokémon was outmatched, it could usually do something. Get off a move, land a glancing blow, something.

Anything.

But this?

This was domination. A clear mismatch, as one-sided as a fight ending in a single blow.
If Ralts had been a more physical Pokémon, one who favored raw power over control, it might have even been dangerous.

Benkara stood still for a few seconds, eyes downcast toward his side, where three more Poké Balls rested. One held another Pokémon probably around Budew’s level.

The other two? His Aces.

One standard and the other a contingency, reserved for if Myst swept through his team. Benkara reached for the second Poké Ball on his belt… then hesitated.

His hand moved back.

Just one slot.

“Give it all you’ve got—”

He flicked his wrist.

“Turtwig!”

A green turtle materialized onto the field, leaves rustling in a phantom breeze. This time, Benkara didn’t offer Myst the luxury of a moment’s reprieve. The instant Ralts locked eyes with Turtwig, Benkara opened his mouth.

“Razor Leaf!”

Turtwig didn’t hesitate.  It threw its head forward, launching half a dozen razor-sharp leaves from its back. They cut through the air with lethal speed, closing the distance between the two Pokémon in an instant.

Ralts didn’t flinch.

Didn’t raise a hand.

She simply vanished, letting the leaves tear through the place she stood a moment prior.

Teleport.

In the blink of an eye, she was next to Turtwig.

The Grass-type’s instincts kicked in before Benkara could even issue a warning. The moment Ralts feet touched the ground its head snapped towards her, and its body flared white as it launched forward.

Tackle.

A fast reaction.

It was too slow.

Ralts opened her mouth—

And s̸̡̨̡̼̘̜̪̻͎̱̞̣͐ͅp̵͎̼̰̙̠̃͜͜ơ̶͓͚̱̞͖͕̟̥̥̆͑͋̈̆̀̀̄͠k̶͙̪̆̓̂̑͑͠e̵̩͍̾̌͐̽̍͐̀͝.

A word that was too beautiful. Too enchanting. Too alien.

Disarming voice.

Turtwig didn’t stumble.

It crashed.

Its legs lost all strength, its momentum sending it tumbling past Ralts like a white rolling boulder.

Without hesitation, Ralts seized the opportunity. She spun gracefully, raised a hand—

The ground split beneath Turtwig as a pulse of telekinetic energy surged. The Grass-type was forced to the earth, unable to rise as Confusion pressed down like an invisible weight, pinning it in place.

Turtwig moaned in pain but slowly still managed to get to its legs. For a moment, it even looked like it would even be able to move, but instead, it could only stand there, legs wobbling as it fought against the telekinetic force.

Like Budew, it was bound, unable to move.

Different from how that had been though, Cynthia could see Ralts’ hand trembling; the strain from holding down Turtwig obviously much greater than when she had trapped Budew. With no other choice, Ralts slowly raised her other hand, giving up on charging another Psybeam and focusing on maintaining the force.

The battle entered a stalemate. Ralts was unable to charge another attack, her energy drained by maintaining Confusion.  Turtwig, for its part, was using every ounce of its strength just to stay upright.

A casual observer might think this favoured nobody.

Cynthia wasn’t casual.

The situation might look equal, but it was really on Benkara and Turtwig to do something. Because while Ralts may have been burning through her energy reserves, she was still the one attacking. Every second Turtwig remained under Confusion's grip was another second it took damage. More than that, once Confusion triggered its secondary effect, once Turtwig became confused and couldn’t fight back properly, the battle would be over instantly.

So she wasn’t surprised when Benkara opened his mouth.

“Use B—”

She was surprised when he almost broke the rules. Of course, he caught himself before finishing the sentence. While Normal-type moves like Tackle were accepted, not really being considered coverage, Bite would be a clear violation.

The fact he almost commanded Turtwig to use it anyway said everything about the pressure Ralts and Myst were putting on him.

It also meant he was probably out of options.

Still, it spoke to how good Benkara was that he only used a split second to try something else.

“You need to disturb their concentration, stop resisting and focus!” Benkara barked.

Turtwig narrowed its eyes but listened. Even while every instinct in its body probably screamed at it, it stopped resisting the telekinetic force, letting its body slam into the ground. It used the freed-up focus to instead summon Grass-type energy.

It would be the last thing it ever did.

“Disrupt it first.”

Ralts instantly dropped Confusion.

Turtwig blinked in surprise as the pressure vanished, dragging its body upright instinctively.

A moment wasted.

Just long enough.

Ralts opened her mouth—

And s̸̡̨̡̼̘̜̪̻͎̱̞̣͐ͅp̵͎̼̰̙̠̃͜͜ơ̶͓͚̱̞͖͕̟̥̥̆͑͋̈̆̀̀̄͠k̶͙̪̆̓̂̑͑͠e̵̩͍̾̌͐̽̍͐̀͝.

Disarming Voice.

This time, Cynthia could see it. Pinkish waves of noise rippled outward, the Fairy-type move washing Turtwig like a wave, seemingly doing nothing.

Then its effect showed.

The Grass-type energy Turtwig had been gathering rebounded violently, and the Tiny Leaf Pokémon groaned in pain as it tried to wrestle back control. To its credit, for a moment, it seemed like Turtwig might regain control, Cynthia saw its muscles tighten, its breath steady—

But it didn’t.

It let out a cry—

And then got blasted in the face by a Psybeam. The purple spiral smashed into the grassy turtle, sending it flying.

When it landed, it didn’t get up.

“Turtwig is unable to battle, may the Gym leader send out his last Pokémon!”

The crowd cheered this time. Cynthia wanted to join them, but she didn’t. Instead her eyes roamed over the battlefield, locking onto Ralts. Compared to the first battle, where she’d looked untouched, this one had clearly taken a toll.  She hadn’t been hit, but the strain of consecutive fights, all that Psychic-type energy spent…

For all that type energy sometimes seemed endless, you could still exhaust it, training showed you that. So right now?

Running out wasn’t impossible.

Her eyes moved back to Benkara, noting how he reached for the fourth ball on his belt, how his expression had shifted.

Through the battle it had evolved.

From dismissive.

To relaxed.

Now?

He looked completely serious.

A Poke Ball expanded.

“Roselia, it’s your turn.”

A familiar Pokémon materialized onto the field, and Cynthia could tell instantly, this was the Pokémon meant to stop a sweep.

Her eyes flicked to Myst, then back to Ralts.

Ralts looked tired.

She’d already fought twice.

But honestly?

“Roselia—"

“Ralts—"

Cynthia couldn’t imagine her losing.

“Spray it down!”

“Let’s put on a show!”

At their trainers’ respective commands, both Pokémon acted at once. Roselia raised a hand, launching countless needle-like shards of Poison-type energy, straight toward Ralts.

Was it aimed at the right Ralts?

That was another question.

Double Team filled the arena. In an instant, Ralts split into a crowd of mirror images, surrounding the field.

Poison Sting shot through the air—

—and passed cleanly through an illusion.

Roselia lowered its hand, glancing around as it cracked open one eye, scanning for any clone that looked off.

“I guess I underestimated you,” Benkara began, his eyes sweeping the field.

Myst grinned in response.

“You were right, you probably could’ve taken on my second—”

Every single Ralts copy grinned with him.

“—badge team.”

Myst slowly began to raise a finger to his lips.

“Just understand I had nothing against”

Every Ralts raised a hand to their lips.

“—you, just can’t—”

Benkara didn’t get to finish.

In perfect sync, all the Ralts and Myst, shushed him. A soft, mocking chorus, like they were telling him to just shut up and battle.

Cynthia resisted the urge to face palm… mostly because she was too busy grinning.

Honestly.

Benkara stared blankly at Myst, but he didn’t really get mad. Instead, he shook his head, a wry smile on his lips.

“I guess I deserved that one,” he said, before straightening up. “Well, if it’s a battle you want, then a battle you are going to get. Roselia, cover the area!”

Roselia threw both hands to the side, and green powder flowed out of its petals.

Sleep Powder

“Contain it!”

Ralts didn’t let it cover the field. Every clone raised a hand, Confusion instantly gathering in the air. Two shimmering barriers formed, collecting the drifting powder and slowly compressing it.

But while the clones had raised their hands—

“Clone six a clock!” Benkara called out.

—it didn’t mean their eyes glowed with the telltale shine of Type energy.

Roselia spun around and flicked a single hand upward, the fallen leaves on the ground following its motion.

Magical Leaf

For a split second, the glowing leaves hovered in the air, giving Ralts just enough time to slam the compressed Sleep Powder into the dirt, burying it.

Then countless leaves, radiant with green energy, homed in on the small Psychic-type.

Cynthia was honestly surprised when Ralts still managed to vanish a split second before the leaves smashed into her body.

Roselia apparently wasn’t.

The leaves curved sharply in the air, tracking their target without pause. They twisted toward the spot where Ralts reappeared, her Double Team flickering out, unable to maintain focus any longer.

Still, Ralts had bought herself a second. She opened her mouth again and ş̵̧̡̳̲̼͔̗̘͔̏̓͂͌͜p̸̧̪̫̼͓̬̫̤͋̇͜ͅo̷̧̨͔̐̾͌̆̀͘k̴͕̂́̈́͘͘̕ẹ̸̦͙͖͖̌̀͑́̈́̋̋̆̀̄̌́̈́̉̽.

Pink waves pulsed out as she spoke, a single, ringing word. The Disarming Voice cut through the air, aimed to disrupt Roselia’s concentration just like it had with Turtwig.

It almost worked.

Roselia staggered slightly as the sound hit it, but that was all.

Cynthia saw Myst’s eyes narrow, catching the same realization she had the moment Ralts attacked: Roselia’s Poison typing had dulled the impact of the Fairy-type move, letting her push through it.

Which meant—

Ralts cried out as Magical Leaf struck home. The glowing leaves whipped forward in a spiraling arc, each one like a tiny blade slicing through the air and slashing into Ralts’s side.

“Get out!” Myst called.

Ralts grunted, but still obeyed and she vanished.

It just didn’t help much, as before Ralts could even think about counterattacking, the countless emerald dagger-like leaves had already zoomed across the field, tracking her down like sharks sensing blood.

Ralts teleported again, just in time.

Cynthia frowned as she watched Ralts appear and vanish, teleporting from spot to spot as she tried to avoid the storm of Magical Leaf.

It wasn’t sustainable. Just like the previous situation where Turtwig getting pressured by Confusion, this situation had a similar problem. While Ralts might not have been taking heavy damage, she was burning through far more energy than Roselia. Eventually, she’d run out, and if that happened, there was no way she could win by relying on Fairy-type moves alone.

Apparently, Myst had realized the same.

“Ralts, get close!” He commanded.

Magical Leaves swept by Ralts’ location, just for her to vanish—

And then reappear, inches away from Roselia.

Ralts raised a hand.

Roselia reacted instantly. She snapped one arm upward, firing a cluster of poisoned needles, straight at Ralts, realizing guiding Magical Leaf wouldn’t be fast enough.

For the first time, Poison Sting hit.

The needles struck home with a sickening precision, sinking deep into Ralts’s side.

A sharp, ragged cry tore through the air, her small body jerking back as she nearly collapsed. Toxic energy lanced through her Aura, bright and violent, and Cynthia could feel it just from watching.

Ralts was scared.

She took a step back, desperately covering herself with her arms, and for a moment Cynthia thought the battle would end just like that.

Myst’s voice tore through the silence.

“HYPNOSIS!”

Ralts’s eyes snapped open, glowing with a sudden, searing—

Blue.

The same shade as Myst’s. And for a heartbeat, Cynthia could almost see it: the connection between trainer and Pokémon, burning bright and focused.

Ralts didn’t fall.

No.

She stared.

Straight at Roselia.

And the world went still.

“Ignore it!” Benkara’s voice rang out.

Too late.

Roselia's hand, the one that had been sending out a barrage of Poison Sting's slowly fell to its side.

It took half a step forward.

Staggered

And then crumpled to the ground, already deeply asleep.

Ralts slowly made over to her opponent.

She raised one trembling hand.

A Psybeam began to form, light gathering in her palm.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

And this time?

Cynthia cheered with it.

Chapter Text

Cynthia felt her pulse slowly begin to settle as things winded down.

Myst’s battle had been the last one before lunch, and so, as Benkara and the gym trainers filed out to take a break, the people who had been watching from the stands began to move too.

Though calling it moving was probably generous.

It was almost funny, how a crowd of maybe fifty people could make clearing out a set of stands built for hundreds look like an impossible task. So instead of joining the herd and experiencing the spiritual journey of a Magikarp flopping upstream, Cynthia stayed seated.

Honestly, sometimes it felt like nobody had any self-control anymore. With everyone trying to leave at once, you didn’t even save time. If anything, it probably took longer than if someone just… waited.

Like her.

She crossed her legs, leaned forward slightly, and let her eyes follow the mess of limbs and backpacks as the crowd slowly funnelled out. A gangly teen nearly flattened a young girl, only for her father to swoop in and catch her mid-fall. He turned to glare, only to lock eyes with an elderly woman instead. The actual culprit, a Machoke, had casually shoved the teen aside without so much as an apology.

Really, how didn’t people feel embarrassed pushing past each other like this?

The thought lingered as she watched ten more near-disasters unfold in the span of five seconds. She was just about to look away when she saw it: a familiar flash of black hair.

And she stilled.

Not because someone fell over. Not because she regretted waiting. No, those would’ve been great. At least she could do something in those scenarios.

This?

Goosebumps prickled across her arm as her gaze landed on Myst…

And his attempt at forcing himself through the crowd.

It was like he thought he was clever, trying to sneak along the rightmost edge and almost leaning over the guardrail of the stairs as he made his way up.

All it did was make him end up looking about as natural as a Slugma trying to swim.

From the start it was already a trainwreck, and yet, somehow, every second made it worse.

He bumped into someone else. Then another. His grin, which had appeared after his win, didn't even budge as he apologized for every step he took.

In a way, that was luck.

If everybody here hadn’t just seen him battle, somebody would have called him out, but now?

They had seen the battle, and so they were kind enough to let it slide, not wanting to ruin the mood.

But still.

Just minutes ago, he’d been composed, directing Ralts with sharp, focused intensity. He’d made it look effortless, dismantling Benkara and his team piece by piece. He hadn’t been perfect, especially considering how the last fight had gone, but even she had to admit he’d looked admirable.

Cool, even.

So couldn’t he just be like that for two more minutes!

Her internal screams were building to a crescendo when his eyes locked with hers. He lit up, his entire face transforming as he raised a hand to wave.

She watched his arm go up.

Watched the crowd start turning, following his gaze.

Crescendo: achieved.

She didn’t think. Cynthia’s knees buckled and she dropped out of sight behind the seats like she’d been sniped.

…

Now, eye to eye with Myst, she stared. The two weeks spent in Eterna City had filled him out, his cheeks weren’t as hollow, his limbs weren’t quite so stick-like. Which would’ve been great, if it didn’t make him harder to kill.

Because that was the only reasonable option left.

Kill Myst.

Then herself.

“I said I was sorry, okay?” Myst said, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t realize how big a waiting for people to clear out was.”

She glared up at him. She wasn’t small, one hundred and sixty seven centimetres was perfectly respectable, but Myst still had a good twenty centimetres on her.

More height meant more mass.

More mass meant more effort to bury the body.

Myst babbled on, unaware. “Like, I don’t even think anyone realized you were the one I was looking at! And even if they did, who cares? It’s not like anyone caught you on camera or anything—”

Cynthia stopped.

Caught her on camera.

Her brain screeched to a halt as it conjured the image: her, pointing at Benkara and screaming at Myst to beat the crap out of him.

She turned her head slowly, mechanically.

Myst had the gall to take a step back.

“Ok, hear me out—” He began.

She took a step towards him.

“I have to, Myst. I have to end my miserable existence,” she said, voice flat.

He took another step back, grinning nervously. “I mean, that’s valid and all, but why do I feel like I’m the one who is going to suffer a fate worse than death before that happens?”

Cynthia tilted her head, tone almost philosophical. “That’s obvious, no? Before committing ritual self-termination, one must eliminate the fool who dishonoured—”

She cut off mid-sentence, eyes locking onto a familiar white truck down the street.

Myst raised a finger, about to object, but Cynthia beat him to it.

“Though…” she said, drawing it out as she stared meaningfully past him. “You could try to offer a sacrifice to appease my wounded soul.”

Myst blinked.

She waited.

He blinked again.

At that Cynthia rolled her eyes and pointed. Myst turned, spotted it, and turned back with the face of a pious monk.

“Oh mighty being,” he intoned, “what if I offered two scoops of ice cream to make amends?”

Cynthia laid a single finger on her chin, tapping it a couple of times.

Myst didn’t wait for judgment, “Three, take it or leave it.”

Her grin spread.

“Deal.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the ice cream truck like an avenging spirit in search of salvation.

…

Cynthia spooned chocolate ice cream into her mouth, sucking on it slowly to savour the taste, as Myst flipped through the map he’d bought from a nearby kiosk.

“So,” Myst said, “they made a road from Eterna to Hearthome, but you can’t walk or drive on it?”

She just nodded, closing her eyes for a second, before pulling the spoon out of her mouth to answer.

“It’s nicknamed Cycling Road for a reason. And it’s not a big deal; most regions have one... also, it doesn’t go all the way to Hearthome.”

“But… why?” Myst asked, ignoring the second part of her sentence in his bewilderment. “Why not just build a normal road? Like for cars?”

Cynthia sighed, opening her eyes. “First of all, most of the trip is downhill. Bikes are way faster than walking. Second, where did you even get the idea people drive between cities? You know how much manpower it takes to secure a route for that? And sure, most wild Pokémon ignore cars, but all it takes is one Ursaring with a grudge against sound and boom, Hyper Beam.”

Myst raised a brow. “Okay, but couldn’t people just invent, I don’t know, quieter cars? Seems like a solvable problem.”

She gave him a flat look. “Right. Go ahead. Build a zero-sound motor. And make silent tires while you’re at it. And while you’re solving those simple problems, go ahead and eliminate pollution and secure world peace—”

“Touché,” Myst said quickly, raising his hands in surrender.

She snorted, triumphant, and went for another bite of ice cream, only to catch the drip before it reached her hand. A lot of people underestimated it, but eating ice cream was an art. You had to be fast enough to avoid melt puddles, but slow enough to enjoy every bite.

It took technique.

Discipline.

Awareness.

That was especially true when it came to cone drips, those were the enemy.

She glanced up.

Myst was staring.

He looked... hungry.

“You’re not getting any,” she said flatly.

Myst blinked, and then widened his eyes, a blush forming. Quickly he brought his hands up, waving her off, “No, no, I was just thinking about something else.”

She narrowed her eyes, but the distraction cost her. A cold feeling dripped down onto her hand.

Spilled ice cream.

Any other person eating ice cream might write it off. Cynthia wasn’t any other person eating ice cream.

With surgical precision, she licked the side of her cup, then balanced it in her left hand as she rotated her right hand just so, before licking the chocolate clean. Then she licked the melted chocolate ice-cream off her hand quickly.

A perfect save.

And that’s when her brain caught up to her body.

She froze.

Then paused.

Myst’s mouth was open, but he wasn’t teasing her. No, instead his whole face was red.

Before she could process that, he slammed his hand on the table.

“So! Bicycles!” he blurted. “We’re gonna need to rent them, right? I heard they’re expensive to buy!”

Cynthia blinked, her brain still halfway between licking chocolate off her fingers and trying to figure out why Myst looked like he’d just swallowed a live Pidgey.

“…What?” she asked slowly, eyes still locked on his very red face.

He flashed her a grin, bright and desperate, the kind people usually saved for trying to cover up crimes.

For a second, she seriously considered poking at it, really digging in and making him squirm. It would only be fair, considering how much he had teased her.

But she hesitated.

He had just won a badge, his first Gym badge… and despite the sheer horror he’d inflicted upon her, that meant something.

So she let it go.

“Well,” she said, folding the moment away, “they’re not that expensive. But yeah. No point in buying one if we’re only going to use it for a single route.”

She took another bite of her ice cream, pointedly not watching the way Myst leaned back with none of his usual casualness.

“So, we need a place to rent bikes—”

“We can rent from the people who maintain Cycling Road,” she interrupted. “They’ve got a place at the entrance.”

“—we need food for the trip—” Myst continued, ignoring her.

“Poké Marts are open all day.”

“—and, most importantly, we need some time to rest before we leave,” Myst said firmly, with a slight edge.

Cynthia pouted.

“We could make it today, if we split up the tasks…”

Myst gave her a look.

She turned away and rapidly finished off the last of her ice cream.

“This plan sucks.” She muttered spitefully.

….

This was the best plan ever!

Cynthia's eyes sparkled as she looked up at the statue in front of her, the rest of the city blurring into silence behind it.

“Look at it!” she gasped, bouncing over to hover a hand reverently over the ancient stone. “You can still see the original weathering, see there? That’s from before they reinforced the base last century. And that crack across the left horn? That’s not damage, it’s part of the design. Some scholars think it was symbolic, a way to represent the duality of the two deities.”

“Two?” Myst asked, leaning on a nearby tree.

“It is! Or, it’s supposed to be,” she said, spinning to face him, already talking faster than her thoughts could keep up. “But the statue is deliberately ambiguous. Some people think it was once two statues, or that it represented a proto-concept of the great Sinnoh, before the mythology split it into separate entities.

She paused, eyes bright, chest heaving slightly from the rush of words, then she caught him watching her. Not the statue.

Her.

“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Myst glanced lazily at the statue, tilting his head.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “What?”

He waved her off, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how it’s supposed to look like either Palkia or Dialga.”

She blinked.

“That’s actually a really good question,” she said, perking up. “We only recently discovered enough recovered images to get any idea of what Dialga and Palkia were supposed to look like. In fact,” her voice lifted proudly, “that discovery came from my grandmother, when she found an ancient cavern in our hometown. Before that, there were no known visual records. And even today, that information is highly classifi—”

She stopped cold.

Myst turned to her, eyebrow raised at her sudden silence. “Why’d you stop?” Then, with a teasing grin he continued, “Did you leak something you weren’t supposed to? Am I gonna have to report you to your grandmother for crimes against the republi—” He said, putting on that voice again.

This time it didn’t make her force down a smile.

“Myst,” she cut in.

Something in her tone made him pause and the grin slid off his face.

“What?”

“You said the statue didn’t look like either Palkia or Dialga right?”

Some part of her hoped, desperately, that he’d say it simply didn’t match what he imagined them to look like.

Her luck wasn’t that good.

He glanced back at the statue. “I mean… yeah? Or maybe it looks like both, mashed together. Like some weird fusion—”

“Myst,” she said again, and this time she felt steel creep into her voice. “How do you know what Dialga or Palkia look like?”

It was a dumb question. Because she already knew the answer. He didn’t know. The knowledge was just there. He’d say it with a shrug, with that half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

I just know.

And that was the terrifying part, because she didn’t even know. Not really. She had only ever read the descriptions, scanned fragments of notes. The images of the legends her grandmother had discovered? The ones depicting how Dialga and Palkia actually looked like?

She hadn’t been allowed to see them yet.

Sinnoh, was in some ways, lucky. Because their legendaries were quiet… distant. Not like Kanto or Johto, where entire cities had been scorched just because Moltres decided to pass by. Sinnoh was more like Hoenn, its myths were ancient, murmured in lullabies and carved into stone.

They were almost certainly real, but they weren’t present.

And yet Myst had looked at this statue, a deliberate muddling of myth, and casually remarked that it looked like both legends combined. She stared at him, a cold weight forming in her stomach.

“I—” he started.

Cynthia raised a hand to stop him.

“You’re certain, right?” she asked softly. “That you know what they’re supposed to look like?”

Myst nodded, expression unreadable.

Cynthia took a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay. That’s... fine. Just—ehhh...” She trailed off, turning her gaze back to the statue.

Knowledge wasn’t dangerous on its own. Knowing something wasn’t a crime. And in the end information was just that, knowledge, about as dangerous as knowing two plus two equalled four.

It was just that knowing what a legend looked like often preluded trying to find out more about that legend. Which again preluded trying to access that legend.

That was, for a lack of a better word, manageable, when it came to Kanto. The legends of the three elemental birds spoke of them as forces of nature, greater than even the greatest of regular Pokémon.

But that was it.

They were just forces of nature. Humans were adaptable, they could figure out how to survive a blizzard, could live through a targeted thunderstorm and hide from a heatwave.

Sinnoh’s myths weren’t like that.

Sinnoh’s legends were gods.

Time.

Space.

Void.

Everything.

If you angered Articuno, your city might vanish.

If you disturbed Palkia?

The world might vanish.

Cynthia took a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. She hadn’t really dug into everything Myst knew, mostly for her own sanity. After all, just like he didn’t like saying it, her asking how he knew something got tiresome after a while.

But right now she didn’t want to know how, she just needed to know what.

“M—”

She only got out one letter before he cut her off.

“I already know what you’re going to ask.”

Cynthia opened her mouth, then paused, before deciding to simply skip ahead to what she wanted to know.

“Their appearance.”

“Origin form, and original.” He said, like those words were supposed to mean something.

“Powers?”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to think about it, and you don’t either.”

“Location?”

He paused.

Her heart leapt.

“They don’t have one, or eh…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You have to summon them.”

For a second, she just stood there, letting the cool evening breeze wash over the area. She wanted to accuse him of lying, she really did.

The problem was that she believed him.

She’d checked his claims, cross-referenced him during breakfast and under campfire light. More than that, she had used the downtime while he was eating Chasey eggs check her own sources.

His theory on egg moves? Dead on for Professor Elm’s latest research paper.

His comments on when a Pokémon tended to learn certain moves? More accurate than her textbooks.

Even the thing with Buneary, about them evolving via friendship? Rowan had written back that it was good work, that he appreciated the tip, but that he had come to that conclusion a few weeks ago.

So, no, she couldn’t say Myst was wrong, didn’t even dare to.

Which left them where exactly?

What did this even change?

She paused for a moment.

Yeah.

What did this even change?

“Okay,” Cynthia said.

A beat passed.

Then Myst blinked, confused. “Okay? That’s it?”

Cynthia looked at him, really looked, and saw the way his fingers had curled into tight fists, like he was bracing for something to hit him.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Not even close.

And for some reason that was that.

The sheer absurdity of it, the world-ending weight of the moment folded in on itself and looped back around to stupid.

Cynthia snorted.

A real, undignified, nose-crinkling laugh burst out of her as she bent over, gasping.

Myst blinked for a few more seconds, before he let out a sound of pure, completely fake, outrage.

“Hey!” Myst huffed. “I thought this was going to be important! You can’t just laugh, Cynthia. Seriously, is this critical information or not? I need confirmation here!”

She tried to hold it in.

Failed.

Grinned anyway.

“Well, that’s actually an excellent question, I’ll get back to—”

“Cynthiaaa!”

And just like that Cynthia broke.

……..

Benkara looked at the report on his desk.

Reports like this normally didn’t reach his desk. As Ranger Captain, responsible for the safety and passage through Eterna Forest, his time was too valuable for a routine vandalism case.

The only difference was the name of the one who had reported it.

Cynthia Shirona.

He tapped the desk, remembering back to their battle earlier today.

She was a talented trainer, prodigious even.

The way she commanded her Pokémon, the way she saw the battle, it wasn’t instinct he would normally see in a fifteen-year-old girl. It was the sort of thing he expected from people like him, those who had spent all fifteen of those years battling. More than that, her Pokémon was well trained, with two of them even showing off Custom Moves. The last time he had a challenger that was supposed to challenge the second gym do that was—

Benkara paused for a moment.

Well, it was never.

He had never, in his ten years as a Gym Leader, faced anybody who was supposed to take their second badge use Custom Moves. Because training a Pokemon to do that was hard, and more than that, it required creativity. You had to design the move, finding two moves that fit together, and meld them into a complete whole.

It wasn’t a new move of course, but it was close.

Close enough that there had never been a new move made from a trainer who first didn’t have their Pokémon capable of using a slew of Custom Moves.

Benkara picked up the report.

He wanted to say that it was expected of Carolina’s granddaughter, but she was already beyond that sort of acclaim. Honestly, if he was a betting man, he would even say that there was a good chance she could take a shot at becoming champion.

She had everything she needed.

A strong will.

A good brain.

A good foundation.

Hell, if her friend was anything to go off, she even had a pretty competent rival.

Benkara smiled wryly.

Legends, wouldn’t that be nice, somebody who actually understood that you couldn’t simply overthrow a system that had been around for over a hundred years. Who understood that for as backwards as certain things had been, some things had been like that for a reason.

Really, it wasn’t even like he completely disagreed with their current champion; something had to be done. When he’d gone on his journey, too many trainers had gotten stuck and given up because they lacked the experience and knowledge that came from being born into a clan.

It wasn’t like it was impossible to make up that gap, but trying to do it while having enough time to complete the circuit? While having enough time to learn all the things those from clans already knew? There was a reason over sixty percent of trainers in his era stopped at the first gym.

So something had to be done.

But why did that b—

Benkara took a deep breath and stopped himself from crumpling the report in his hand. Instead, he slowly glanced at a nearby picture, of a younger him, when he was still traveling with Byron and…

He bit his lip.

Why did you have to be so foolish?

Benkara forced himself around and grabbed his hat.

It was late.

It was getting dark.

He should have been heading home, maybe checking if Gardenia had fallen asleep after his quick drive-by.

But he needed a break.

So with a flick of his wrist he released his oldest partner.

Tropius appeared with a low roar, his presence making the grass stand taller. Then, when the grass-flying type realized it was almost night, he suddenly stopped, throwing his trainer an almost sheepish look.

"Your kid just got beat up, so why do you look excited?" Benkara asked, shaking his head.

Tropius let out a low sound, and Benkara understood what he meant without a word.

His son needed that.

"Whatever you say, old dog," Benkara said with a wry grin. "Anyway, I'm due for a break, figured we'd check out a vandalism case. Just need to be back before sundown. You up for it?"

His friend threw him a look, then simply snorted, great palm-like leaves rustling as if eager to take off.

Chapter Text

The first thing Cynthia heard was the steady beeping of her alarm, a blaring reminder that she was supposed to be awake.

She frowned and yanked the quilt over her head, as if that would somehow muffle the sound. It didn’t, mostly because she’d specifically chosen the most obnoxious alarm she could find, one that could cut through fabric, dreams, and the will to live.

Still, she tried.

She groaned, grabbed a pillow, and mashed it over her ear.

Defeat came quickly.

With a final, pitiful whine, she tossed the quilt aside and dragged herself out of bed.

The alarm, naturally, was on the other side of the room, where she had cleverly placed it last night. After everything that happened yesterday sleep had been hard to come by and so, anticipating her future self’s desire to stay curled up in bed, she’d set a trap: the only way to silence the noise was to walk across the freezing floor and physically hit the button.

She glared at it. She hated it. She resented last-night-her with a burning passion.

So, when she pressed the button and the room sighed into silence, she let out a sigh with it.

Truly, she was her own worst enemy.

With her second-greatest foe vanquished, she glanced back at the bed. It still looked inviting, but the cold air had already sunk deep into her bones, jolting her out of her half-asleep state.

Her brain, though not fully operational just yet, was back online. Which meant she remembered she was supposed to meet Myst in the lobby in just under an hour. And unlike Myst, who somehow took only ten seconds in the bathroom despite all that hair, she actually cared about how she looked.

With a groan that felt like it resonated through her very soul, she turned her back on the mattress and shuffled toward the bathroom.

She needed a shower anyway.

If only to let herself think.

….

Palkia.

Dialga.

“You can’t just find them; they have to be summoned.”

As Myst words, and his all too casual tone, echoed in her brain again, she slammed her head into the shower wall.

Thinking was a mistake.

….

Cynthia somehow managed to finish the rest of her morning in a sort of meditative trance. By the time she snapped out of it, she had managed to shower, pack, and slip into her newly bought cycling clothes.

So, she was ready to go.

Or, well, almost ready to go.

She stared at herself in the mirror, holding the two hair clips between her fingers.

Myst’s apology gift.

Did they even make sense to wear today? So far she had worn them almost every day, but hair ties were simply better for cycling. Not only were they more secure and easier to work with, giving her the ability to transform her hair into a ponytail in five seconds flat, but they were also more suitable for wearing with a helmet.

Sure, she could style her hair in another way with hair clips, find some arrangement that could probably work, but…

She knew from experience; nothing beat a ponytail for keeping her hair out of her face.

That didn’t stop her from lifting them up to her hair, right where she usually clipped them in.

Her body warmed slightly at the sight, and she saw her mouth twitch upwards into a grin in the mirror.

It honestly hadn’t even really been necessary for him to get her something. It was just him being stupid, overreacting to her overreaction.

Still…

She picked at the hairclips, just feeling the ultra-light fabric that connected to the clip part.

It was sweet.

Cynthia paused for a moment.

Then hurriedly let her thoughts continue.

And… and—

They even looked cool!

Really, she hadn’t thought about it, but for a boy, he had good taste.

The black and yellow suited her perfectly, and more than that, they were durable. When she’d asked Myst about them, he said they were handmade, bought from one of the local pop-up stores that always showed up at the start of League season.

All in all a great gift, probably one of the best somebody had gotten her…

Even so, they were just clips, not actual hair ties. Even if she managed to jury-rig them into holding her hair, they could fall out.

She hesitated.

But…

No.

She couldn’t.

….

As she walked down the stairs, she spotted Myst again, leaning casually against a nearby support beam. And, like the little Pokémon was prone to do, Ralts leaned casually against her own support beam.

The fact that said beam was Myst’s legs was neither here nor there.

Myst turned his head, spotting her, and just like that his bored face transformed into a grin.

“You’re late.” He called out.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Like you have any capacity to throw stones, I saw you come down the stairs Myst. You were also late, just a little bit less,” she pointed out, deadpan.

Myst blinked innocently, pointing at himself as if to ask, Who, me?

Cynthia just gave him a look.

“You—” She started, just to stop.

Instead, she let out a sigh.

She was a morning person, she was. Among her classmates, among pretty much everyone she knew, she was always the first one up. Out training before the sun even cleared the horizon, never staying up late.

She’d been proud of that, had been proud.

But after getting to know Myst? Waking up at seven? Apparently, nothing compared to his habit of waking at six, or when he felt like it, five.

Five.

The only reason she even caught him this morning was probably because he’d already been out running, and was just coming back for a last-minute shower… Or well, considering they were about to bike for eight hours, maybe not running.

Still, she doubted he had woken up seven like she had.

So, she had a feeling continuing to argue would just lead to a swift and final loss. Of course, just because she couldn’t win didn’t mean she couldn’t technically win.

She let her smile turn slightly reserved, then, as casually as she could, she simply said, “Let’s just get to the bike rental, okay?”

Myst blinked, looking like he’d expected more sass. Then when she didn’t add anything he simply shrugged.

“Sure. But let the record show, I did, in fact, wait for you.”

Cynthia smiled, sweet as honey. “You did, in fact, wait for me.”

Myst pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to figure out where the trap lay.

Cynthia didn’t wait for him to catch on, nor did she say anything more.

Because her admitting defeat, and Myst getting worried?

That was the trap.

….

Saying Myst ‘walked’ his bike up the hill was technically accurate, but only technically.

“What about Oran Berries? She likes those, right?” he asked, leaning his entire body weight against the handlebars and dragging himself forward like a man on the edge.

Cynthia wasn’t going to say she enjoyed the sight of him suffering.

She just… wasn’t going to say anything at all.

Lying was bad form after all.

She lifted a finger to her chin, tapping it to hide her smile. From the way Myst glared at her, she was doing a terrible job.

“You could try to look a little less happy,” he muttered. “I am in danger of imminent death here.”

She glanced at him, utterly deadpan.

“Oh no,” she said flatly. “Your imminent death, whatever shall I do.”

He gave her another look but didn’t reply. Instead he sighed, then looked down, letting his hair fall over his face. From the basket in front of the bike’s handlebars, Ralts gasped audibly, then, with great effort, she dragged her to her feet, just to glare at Cynthia.

Cynthia didn’t mind, she had long since given up on making the little thing like her.

“Ralts!” Ralts snapped, shooting a look at Myst, like she wanted him to intervene.

Myst didn’t respond.

Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to say something, then she slammed it shut.

Myst didn’t respond.

She blinked slightly, glancing to her right, where Queenie lumbered along.

The Dragon-type gave her a look, one that said more than a thousand words. Then, she nudged her with a fin and let out a low growl, her own sharklike way of saying yeah, she noticed it too.

Something was obviously up.

Because normally, he’d have bitten back instantly.

Something like: “Well, if I’m going down, I might as well take you with me,” or “Guess I’ll just praise the sun then.”

Not that she understood the second one, but the point stood.

Myst wasn’t the type to dwell.

He deflected, cracked a joke, and if all else failed, changed the subject with the subtlety of a Tauros in a porcelain shop.

Now, though, he was quiet.

And even as she watched, he somehow compressed himself, making himself seem smaller. It was almost fascinating, how he stared into nothing, resting his chin on the handlebars, looking through Ralts, like he was trying to make contact with some great beyond.

“No, but really,” he mumbled, barely audible over the breeze. “What am I even supposed to say? Rei joined me to battle. She wants to fight, to grow stronger. That was her whole reason for joining. And then, at my first badge, I’m just... not fielding her?”

Cynthia’s smile faded.

“And, honestly, this probably isn’t going to be the last time either. If she could choose she’d probably want to fight every battle, and who am I to stop her? She’s her own person, has her own thoughts, and just because I’m her trainer doesn’t mean I should get to choose whether she fights or not, right? I…” He let out a low sigh. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to explain that to her. What if she feels cheated?”

Cynthia stared at him, feeling a little like someone had taken the hill they were walking on, ripped it out from under her, and decided it was time to fly instead.

Pokémon were their own beings, sure. They had likes and dislikes, thoughts and opinions. They had personalities.

But they weren’t human, not in the way people sometimes wanted them to be.

It wasn’t even a negative thing, it was just a fact. They were instinctual, operated on a different logic. Hell, trying to lump every Pokémon together was a mistake in of itself. Different species thought in different ways, even within their own types.

A Lucario couldn’t be more different from a Metagross.

Still, there was one common thread every Pokémon seemed to share.

They existed around bonds, and with humans, that tendency amplified. If a Pokémon started to trust you, then, as long as you did your best, you had a friend for life. A partner even, if you wanted one.

To say that Rei would leave, just because Myst didn’t field her for one battle?

It might have been the single most ridiculous thing Cynthia had heard since she met him.

Myst turned to her, like he was waiting for her to respond.

Instead, he saw her expression, and his face froze. Then, like someone had flipped a coin to decide his next expression, it flipped.

He smiled.

It was an awkward, crooked thing.

Ralts squeaked nervously, her orange horn pulsing with energy as she waved her arms, looking like she was trying to cheer her trainer up.

Cynthia felt something twist in her chest.

“I mean, not that it’s a big deal,” Myst added hastily, waving one hand to brush it off. “I just need something to help her forgive me, and she will probably, right?”

It didn’t help his case that he paused, then suddenly lit up and glanced at her Poké Balls.

“Right! How about we have another battle, like the one we had in the forest? She’d probably love another match against Rio—”

Cynthia stopped walking.

Opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Her mind blanked as she tried to come up with a way to explain how ridiculous he sounded. That he was underestimating his bond with Rei, no, almost disrespecting it.

But she couldn’t. Because this was just how Myst was.

Maybe it was because the only way he had ever interacted with Pokémon was as if they were family.

Maybe it was because he didn’t have memories, didn’t have the experience of living with Pokémon for a long time.

It didn’t matter.

She had no idea how to explain something that was simply true. Something that simply was that way.

For a moment, silence grew, pressing in with each passing second.

“Can we please just… move on?” Myst asked, his voice sounding painfully awkward.

Cynthia bit her lip, glancing at Queenie for some reassurance.

Queenie just let out a sigh.

….

Cynthia had thought that letting the subject rest, taking some time to gather her thoughts, and then trying to attack it later would be smart.

It was decidedly not.

The silence was painful and every topic she tried to bring up fizzled out awkwardly.

She wasn’t sure who to blame, Myst, for turning into the most concise person in the world with his mind clearly elsewhere, or herself for being unable to explain something even a child would get instinctively.

So for the first few hours, they biked in near silence, only trading a few words here and there.

Eventually, Cynthia let her eyes wander across the road, allowing her thoughts to empty as she again took in the scenery instead.

Everything she’d told Myst yesterday about Cycling Road had been true. She just hadn’t bothered to mention that there were other ways to reach the next Gym.

They could’ve taken Route 211 to her hometown, then down to Solaceon, before heading toward Hearthome. It would’ve taken longer, maybe just a day or two, but it wouldn’t have been a major detour.

It was just that, honestly?

She wanted to travel through Cycling Road.

The tall mountains surrounding them, all dwarfed by the massive silhouette of Mount Coronet... the road built right into the mountainside was beautiful.

Of course, when she first suggested it, she’d imagined a fun trip, leisurely cycling, light conversation, soaking in the sights.

She glanced at Myst again and sighed.

Even so, she opened her mouth, just in time for her attempt at catching Myst’s attention to meet a swift and sudden demise before a single word escaped.

“Ralts!”

A sound came from Ralts, who stood proudly in Myst’s bike basket, eyes wide as saucers, pointing excitedly up a steep hill toward some caves.

Cynthia followed her hand but saw nothing.

“What?”

Ralts let out another, even more excited, sound and pointed even harder. It still took Cynthia a few seconds before she finally spotted it; a flock of Gligar flitting between rocky outcroppings and shallow caves.

“Ah, you want to know what Pokémon those are?” Cynthia asked, a soft smile spreading across her face at Ralts’ vigorous nodding.

It was almost funny. Because Myst’s thoughts were clearly still stuck on what to do about Rei, Cynthia was actually the one Ralts was interacting with. For once she was the one bonding with the adorable little empath.

“Ralts!”

“Their name is Gligar,” Cynthia said gently. “They’re the only known Flying-Ground type Pokémon. Them and their evolution, Gliscor.”

“Ralts?”

“They’re not that rare. Well, Gligar aren’t, at least. Gliscor is harder to find, but that’s because most of them are the boss of a flock. And most bosses don’t want to leave their group behind.”

Ralts blinked slowly, absorbing every word like she was cataloguing it.

“Either way, it wouldn’t be a problem if we knew how to evolve Gligar…” Cynthia trailed off deliberately, her tone gaining a little edge as she glanced sideways at Myst.

He kept pedaling.

Eyes on the road.

Mind clearly not on the road.

“Ralts?” Ralts tilted her head in confusion from the basket, glancing back at Cynthia like she was trying to figure out why she kept starting and stopping her explanations.

Cynthia sighed.

This was stupid.

They were being stupid.

Now, if she could only figure how to stop being stupid, and everything would be pretty great.

…

They hadn’t really broken the silence, just carried it into camp with them.

Cynthia poked at the campfire with a stick, her knees pulled up to her chest. The fire crackled and spat little sparks into the air as she watched her travel partner across the flames.

Myst sat slumped nearby, knees also drawn in, absently fiddling with Rei’s Poké Ball. Every so often, his thumb would brush the release button, hover there a moment, and then move away.

Ralts was curled up against his side, mirroring his posture with eerie precision. She’d fallen asleep like that, arms around her knees, breathing slow and steady.

Really, all of them were sitting the same way.

Really, the whole day had been hell.

The plan had been simple: bike for about eight hours, with a few quick stops, before reaching a proper rest area. That was before they'd missed the turnoff entirely. Neither of them noticed until it was too late, and instead of stopping to backtrack, they just... kept going.

They biked for nearly six more hours.

And for all the beauty of the route, it was just that, a road. Nothing else. Nowhere to stop, no shelter, no shade. Cynthia had seen on the map that there were eight designated rest points, but she hadn’t realized that meant they were the only places you could stop.

Myst let out a sigh.

Cynthia’s eyebrow twitched.

And of course, the biggest problem of all—

“You know things aren’t going to get better if you just sit there waiting, right?” Cynthia said, her voice sharper than she intended.

Myst glanced over, one eyebrow raised like he was wondering what he'd done to deserve that.

She breathed in slowly, trying to force the heat back down.

All day she’d felt like she was on the verge of saying something, like her head was full of tangled words she couldn’t unravel. The words were there. The feelings were there. But every time she tried to speak, they turned to mush.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking down at Rei’s Poké Ball.

She knew exactly how she felt, but why was it so hard to find the right words?

Myst gave her a wry smile.

“No, honestly, I should be the one saying sorry. I’ve been out of it all day, haven’t I?” he said, then looked down at Ralts as she snuggled tighter into his side. His voice turned fond, soft. “And to you too. I didn’t mean to ignore you, just…”

His fingers tightened around Rei’s Poké Ball, before he looked back at Cynthia.

“I think I just realized how hard this whole thing is going to be. What it actually means that they chose to follow me.”

Cynthia frowned.

That familiar feeling crept up again, that frustration that all too often accompanied him being like… this. Really, if she'd met Myst under normal circumstances, she never would’ve guessed he’d be the type to question himself like this.

At first, she hadn’t noticed it. But slowly, over days, then weeks, it became clear.

He didn’t see himself as anyone important.

He hadn’t believed Rei would choose to leave the forest with him.

He didn’t think he was a good battler.

He didn’t trust his own instincts, his own conclusions.

Hell, when she blew up at him over almost nothing, he didn’t even trust her to be reasonable.

Sure, he learned. When Rei stuck by him, he acted like he hadn’t doubted for a second. When he battled other trainers and won, he finally started to realize he wasn’t just some guy playing pretend.

But still…

Her mouth moved before her thoughts caught up.

“If Rei did something to hurt you, would you just abandon her?”

Myst blinked, startled. “Of course not. But that’s, it's different. I’m supposed to—"

“Different how?” she cut in before he could finish. “Because you’re her trainer? I thought you respected her, thought she could handle herself, felt that she was her own person. So what, exactly, made you think that Rei, of all Pokémon, would stay with you if she didn’t like you? If she didn’t trust you to give her a choice?”

He flinched slightly, and a flicker of guilt twisted in her gut. But before she could even think about apologizing, he let out a low breath. Like a balloon slowly deflating.

“Yeah. I mean… you’re right.”

Cynthia blinked.

“I am?”

Then cleared her throat, her thoughts snapping back into place.

“I mean, of course I am.”

Myst grinned at her. A real grin this time, his usual one, if a little softer at the edges.

“Yeah. I mean, how could you not be?” he said. Then his eyes dropped back to Rei’s Poké Ball, his smile dimming. “It’s just… I feel out of my depth. When I look at you, and how everyone else interacts with Pokémon, it’s so casual. So natural. It’s like people just know what to do. What’s okay. What isn’t.”

His jaw tightened.

“I see a Poochyena on a leash and I almost lose my goddamn mind. I know it’s normal, but it just feels... wrong. Like putting a collar on your friend.”

She stared at him for a second, unsure how to even begin to untangle that.

It was obvious he cared. That he saw Pokémon as friends. As family. Maybe even more than most people did.

But, somehow, he still didn’t get it.

“You are underestimating them.” She said.

Myst blinked. “Who? The people walking Poochyena?”

“Yeah, no,” she deadpanned. “Obviously I meant Family Father A walking his daughter’s Poochyena.”

He blinked again.

“You dumbass,” she said, almost fondly, “I meant Pokémon.”

Myst gave her a baffled look.

“You think we control them,” she went on. “Like we’re completely responsible for everything they are. But that’s not how it works. They’re our partners. Our friends. Our family. But they’re still their own beings. They might not reason the same way we do, but they do reason.”

She sat up straighter, her eyes locking onto his.

“You think that guy’s Poochyena didn’t want to be on a leash? Most of them like it. They’re pack Pokémon. Having someone lead them makes them feel secure. It’s not about control. It’s about belonging.”

Myst let out a single dumb, “Huh.”

Cynthia grabbed another stick and poked the fire, watching the sparks flit into the darkness.

“I get it,” she said after a moment. “You’ve never been a trainer. You don’t remember how Pokémon work. How we work with them. But just remember this, Myst.”

Cynthia looked over the flames at him, the light caught in her grey eyes, turning them gold.

“Pokémon aren’t human. And that’s a good thing. If they were, we wouldn’t exist. They’d have wiped us out ages ago. They’re stronger, smarter in their own way...” Cynthia paused for a moment, as if weighing the truth of her words. “Honestly? They’re just better than us in almost every way. The only thing we can offer them is our help—”

Her voice dropped, quiet and reverent, as she glanced to her side, where Queenie lay curled up, soaking up the warmth from the fire.

“—and they repay that with loyalty that never dies.”

Myst just stared at her.

Eyes wide.

Like he was seeing her for the first time.

Cynthia shifted slightly, the firelight casting shadows over his unreadable face.

“…What?” she asked, suddenly uncertain.

He didn’t answer.

She still blushed.

….

Myst took a deep breath as he held up flicked his wrist and released Rei onto the small grassy field. She materialized in a burst of red light, as adorable as ever.

Fur fluffy, ears standing tall, and eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

Just adorable.

Even though Cynthia knew what she was capable of, it still took real strength not to coo as she flicked her head left and right, clearly confused about where she was.

“Rei,” Myst said gently.

Rei turned immediately at the sound of his voice, then, as she took in his expression, her ears drooped slightly.

“Bun-buneary?” she asked.

It would have been cute, truly…

It was just Cynthia got the distinct feeling Rei was asking whether she needed to beat someone up, and not if her trainer was okay.

Myst gave her a wry grin and dropped into the grass beside her, completely missing the look Rei shot him.

A look that clearly asked: What the hell is going on?

“I had my first Gym battle yesterday,” he started, glancing at her for a reaction.

Rei stared at him. Her ears drooped lower, and her eyes narrowed.

“Bunneary.”

Did we win?

Myst blinked, clearly not expecting that question.

Then, just as Rei began to tap her tiny foot in growing impatience, he managed to say,

“Yeah, I mean, Ralts even managed to sweep.”

“Bunneary.”

Overwhelmingly?

“Yeah, she did great. Smashed the Gym Leaders guy’s Roselia into the dirt.”

Rei looked at Myst for a second, before she narrowed her eyes.

When her mouth opened she sounded angry.

“Bun-bun—BUNNEARY!”

So why didn’t I get to watch!

Myst flinched as Rei stamped her foot hard, frustration written all over her face.

“You... wanted to watch?” he asked slowly, like the idea had never once occurred to him.

Rei stared at him.

Really stared.

Then she tilted her head back toward the sky and placed a paw dramatically over her face.

“Bunneary,” she groaned, a long, low sound full of pain and disbelief. It echoed like the groan of someone slowly realizing their trainer might, actually, be hopeless.

Cynthia couldn’t help it, a smile slipped onto her face.

Myst hesitated, struggling to read her. “Wait… you’re mad because you didn’t get to watch? I thought you’d be upset about not getting to fight.”

Rei’s head snapped back toward him, glaring.

It wasn’t angry though, just… disappointed.

Like to say, are you for real right now?

Then, seeing Myst not understanding, she let out a sigh, before opening her mouth again.

“Bun,” she said firmly. “Bun-bun-bunneary.”

Myst blinked and Cynthia could see his eyes widen as, slowly, something clicked.

“…You wanted to fight. You wanted to get stronger,” he said carefully, his voice softened. “But the team’s win… that was still your win.”

Rei gave a single nod.

“You’re not upset about being sidelined,” he said, watching her closely. “You’re upset I didn’t include you. Didn’t let you be there.”

Rei pointed at him, then thumped her paw against her chest.

“Bunneary,” she said with quiet certainty.

Myst stared at her, his partner, and let out a soft, bitter laugh.

“I’m stupid, aren’t I?”

Rei nodded solemnly, like a doctor forced to deliver a terminal diagnosis.

Myst chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah. You’re right. And here I was, thinking you’d be mad you didn’t get to fight. I guess I underestimated y—”

He trailed off slowly, catching the look Rei gave him.

Cynthia sighed and brought a hand to her face.

Of all the things he could’ve said… she wasn’t sure he could have picked a worse combination of words.

Rei slowly smashed one paw into the other, like she’d just remembered something really important.

“Bunn.”

Oh right.

“Bunneary.”

Violence.

Myst scrambled to his feet.

It was too late.

Cynthia didn’t even need to strain to figure out what happened next.

Rei launched herself at him.

Chapter Text

Myst’s mouth was pursed into a tight line, his hands balled, only his two index fingers extended, pointing straight at Cynthia.

“I don’t get it,” he said simply.

Cynthia let out a sigh.

“What part? Because I think I explained it pretty clearly.”

Myst brought both fingers up to his lips.

“First of all, all you said was that Custom Moves are,” he mimicked her voice, “like super hard.” Then he shifted back to his normal tone. “And second, I think I get what they are, but I don’t really understand why they’re special. They’re just using two moves at the same time, right? Ralts can do that…” He paused, probably noticing the look on her face. “But considering the expression you’re wearing, I’m guessing that’s completely wrong.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “First of all, that didn’t sound like me at all, and,” she stressed the word, “I didn’t say that. Second of all… yeah, it’s not the same. What Ralts was doing is impressive for sure, but it doesn’t count as a Custom Move. If you want to call something a Custom Move, the moves have to be combined into one. Ralts used her two moves completely separately, insane multitasking for sure, but not a Custom Move.”

Myst tilted his entire upper body, fingers still loosely pressed near his lips. “But if they’re already combined into one seamless move, how are they even different from regular moves? Why call them something different at that point?”

Cynthia opened her mouth to answer but then stopped.

With his lean, Myst’s hair had shifted, falling away from his face. It no longer framed him the way it usually did, and for a moment, all she could do was stare.

He looked healthier.

His face wasn’t as gaunt anymore, and even that strange, washed-out paleness he always seemed to carry was starting to give way to a warmer tan. He was still thin, sure, but now he almost looked...

Almost looked handso—

Myst narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Cynthia snapped out of it instantly, a blush blooming across her face.

“Nothing!” she blurted.

Myst gave her a weird look, but before he could say anything, she steamrolled ahead.

“Anyway! It’s different because Custom Moves use two different types of energy. If you combine two moves of the same type, well, if it’s seamless, that’s basically a new move. If not, and you just do what Ralts did, then it’s still two moves, just used at the same time.”

She paused, checking to see if he was following—

Only to find his brilliant blue eyes locked onto hers, Myst looking like he was hanging onto every word.

Her blush, apparently seeing no reason to leave, deepened and she used a moment to gather herself before continuing.

“Ehm, well, as I was saying, Custom Moves are different from regular moves. It might be harder to create a normal move, but don’t underestimate Custom Moves either. Most trainers don’t have them until their last badges, and even then, it’s usually just on one or two Pokémon.”

Myst raised an eyebrow. “But you have them though?”

Cynthia paused… then grinned, raising a single eyebrow of her own.

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t have to.

Myst smirked in response, “But you aren’t most other trainers. Got it.”

She giggled, and Myst shook his head slightly, “Okay, so I get they’re different from regular moves, but shouldn’t they still be more widespread? Like that trick Roselia did, seriously, that thing looked insanely useful. I can’t imagine people not wanting to learn it. And if he wanted to teach it, all you’d need is another Pokémon that can use Magical Leaf and Double Team…”

He paused, considering his own words.

“But that’s probably easier said than done, right? Because not every Pokémon, even if they’re the same type, will have access to both moves that go into a Custom Move.”

Cynthia’s eyes lit up as he caught on, “Exactly. Some Custom Moves do get passed around a bit, but they always run into the same wall: they’re made from two separate moves, from two different types. Not every Pokémon has access to both.”

Myst tilted his head slightly.

“But wouldn’t Roselia’s Custom Move be kind of an exception, then? I mean, if the only real limitation is a Pokémon’s movepool, and almost every Grass-type can learn both Magical Leaf and Double Team, then couldn’t you teach it to most of them?”

Cynthia, about to answer, instead paused.

Then she frowned, furrowing her eyebrows.

“What do you mean almost every Grass-type can learn Double Team? Sure, it’s not impossible to teach in some cases, but only a handful actually have it in their movepool.”

Myst stared at her blankly.

“There are like... thirty Pokémon that can’t learn Double Team. Period. And even then, almost all of them aren’t even fully evolved. What do you mean Double Team isn’t part of a Grass-types normal movepool? It’s like, one of the most universal moves out there. I don’t think there is a Grass-type that can’t learn it.”

Cynthia raised a finger—

Then lowered it, lips pressing together.

“This is the sort of thing I’m probably going to lose if we argue about it, isn’t it?”

Myst shrugged, “I mean, I could be wrong. Honestly, you should take everything I say with a grain of salt, but I am pretty sure that with the right method, basically every Pokémon, regardless of typing, can learn Double Team.”

Cynthia looked away for a moment.

It made... some sense. If there was any type of move that could be learned by nearly every Pokémon, she would pick a Normal-type one. Not that there were many other choices. After all, Normal-type energy was the only one that every other type could convert into without resistance.

Still... Double Team?

If, before right now, she needed guess a universal move she would probably start with the basic ones, like Tackle or Scratch. Those certainly felt more common. But then again… those moves all relied on physical traits and not every Pokémon had claws to Scratch with or could build the momentum needed to Tackle.

Maybe it was just that Double Team was so damn useful that it didn’t feel like a basic move. Honestly, she could even call it complicated. You had to shape type energy into a mirror image of yourself, hold it in a thin shell, then materialize that energy multiple times while coordinating every copy not to give away who was real.

She paused.

Then again… none of that was strictly necessary to use Double Team, was it?

Those were just tricks, advanced tactics. The kind of thing you saw in higher-level battles. At its core, Double Team was just shaping Normal-type energy into a basic shell and leaving it behind. Everything after that was flair, or well, not flair, but definitely not the foundational part of the move.

Cynthia slowly turned back toward Myst.

He was already grinning.

Stupidly grinning.

“Well?” he asked. “You reasoned yourself into me being right yet?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Okay, fine. You might be right about Double Team. But that doesn’t really matter.” She crossed her arms. “The effort it would take to train a Pokémon to learn both moves, and then train them to use the actual Custom Move? If they didn’t know either to start, you could’ve taught them, like, four regular moves in that time.”

She paused for a moment, then continued.

“Unless you specifically needed that exact type of Custom Move, and you happened to meet someone who knew it? It’d almost always be better to make your own.”

Myst glanced towards Ralts, who was busy trying to lift four different stones at once, moving all of them up and down to a different rhythm.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Just because Ralts can learn to use both required moves doesn’t mean we need it. I mean, it’d be useful, sure. But it doesn’t really suit the style we’ve been going for so far.”

Cynthia nodded, uncrossing her arms. “Exactly. That’s even where the name comes from. A custom-made move, designed for that exact Pokémon, tailored to your team, your strategy, your style. It’s not just about combining two moves to create something else, you want something that is needed.”

Myst slowly nodded, eyes lingering on Ralts for a few more seconds.

Cynthia couldn’t help but grin as she watched him think, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in that way he always got when he was turning something over in his head. He always looked so serious, like the world might hinge on whatever idea he was about to come up with next.

Talking to Myst, even when she was mostly just explaining stuff, it never felt like a chore. Sure, he didn’t always know things she considered basic, and sure he could sometimes be a little annoying…

But he also never simply pretended to be interested.

Never just humoured her.

It was always a discussion, always a conversation. And most of the time? It didn’t even stay about battle theory. They’d just… talk, theorize about whatever caught their fancy, just for the hell of it.

She used to think it was better doing things on her own. That it was more rewarding somehow.

Cleaner.

She didn’t need anybody else; she could figure out everything on her own.

But now?

Yeah.

She wasn’t the type to lie to herself.

Being with Myst was just more fun.

….

The original plan had been to keep moving at a steady pace, biking a little bit every day until they reached the end of Cycling Road. But, well… they also hadn’t planned on biking for fourteen hours on the first day.

So, in her defence, she felt like resting for a day was perfectly excusable.

Also, her calves were murdering her.

Either way, Cynthia could only feel somewhat envious as she dug her hands into Queenie’s shoulder blades, pressing down on the muscle with as much force as she could manage. The Dragon-type let out a low, rumbling growl of satisfaction from where she lay sprawled across the grass, her eyes narrowing in contentment as her tail whipped lazily behind her.

After a few seconds of pressure, Cynthia moved her hands lower, straining her fingers until they began to go numb as she pushed deep into Queenie’s calves.

Then she smiled faintly as Queenie melted beneath her hands.

“Ga-gabite…” her partner moaned out, low and drawn.

Most trainers forgot it, but Pokémon were, for the most part, creatures of flesh and blood. Sure, they were hundreds of times hardier than humans, capable of withstanding immense damage even without their aura active.

But fundamentally?

They could still get sore, get tired, and develop muscle knots. It wasn’t much of a problem for household Pokémon, their greatest issue was usually the risk of getting fat, but for Pokémon under the care of a serious trainer?

Pokémon like that trained for hours each day, pushing themselves to their limits, and sometimes even past them. Honestly, it would be weirder if they didn’t end up with some kind of issue related to their muscles or ligaments.

Even so, Cynthia wasn’t sure how many trainers actually bothered with this kind of care. She certainly hadn’t, not until she’d randomly picked up a book on Pokémon physiology one day. Before that, she’d never even really heard about it. But after reading through it, after seeing how many Pokémon developed long-term issues because they hadn’t received proper support while they were active?

Well, she simply couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t not think about it.

And yet, for something so obviously important, it still wasn’t common practice. That part, she honestly didn’t quite get. Sure, everyone knew to give their Pokémon supplements, mixing in the standard blends with their usual diet to support optimal growth. But massages? Recovery stretches? Muscle care routines?

Yeah, not exactly part of the average trainer’s playbook.

Even so, after doing it consistently for years, she could say with confidence that it made a difference. Better movement. Faster recovery between sessions. Hell, Queenie had even started sleeping more soundly.

Cynthia let out a breath as she finally finished, her hands stinging with effort.

Now, if only somebody would do the same for her and she could die happy.

She paused, glancing toward Myst, who was currently biting a pencil as he scribbled something into his all-too-secret notebook.

Her feet felt like two giant bricks.

Her hands ached with a dull, pulsing stiffness.

Her calves were killing her.

And Myst?

He was doing absolutely nothing, except writing in that stupid notebook.

Cynthia pursed her lips forcefully, and then, staggering to her feet, she slowly made her way over to him.

Really, wasn’t it normal to have somebody help you out when you were tired?

It wasn’t like it was a big deal, she’d massaged loads of people when they asked.

Friends did stuff like this for each other.

More than that, considering it was mainly his fault that they’d ended up traveling for twice as long as originally planned, wouldn’t this just be… par for the course?

As she got close, Myst, of course, snapped his notebook shut and glanced up at her.

“You done massaging Queenie?”

Cynthia nodded, then opened her mouth—

Could you massage my feet?

—only for the words to get stuck in her throat.

Myst raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Cynthia shut her mouth. Took a deep breath. This was silly… she was being silly. There was nothing weird about asking.

So she opened her mouth again.

“You need help figuring out a Custom Move?”

And felt herself die a little on the inside.

Myst blinked, then lit up.

“Yeah, actually, that would be pretty great! I swear, it feels like when it comes to figuring out what moves to train, the regular ones in a Pokémon’s movepool, I’ve mostly got that down. But Custom Moves? Even after you explained it earlier, I haven’t come up with anything exc—”

He paused, holding up a finger.

“…Why do you look like you’ve just suffered a soul-crushing defeat?”

Cynthia glanced over their current location.

Rest Stop Number Two was beautiful.

The top of the mountain had been carved out by Rock- and Ground-types, and then covered in grass made to survive the harsh climate of the peak by Grass-type Pokémon. More than that, compared to the narrow strip that was Cycling Road, it had space, enough for half a dozen trainers to camp and train without bumping into each other.

It even had the same sweeping views.

So it was, by most accounts, just better.

There was only one thing it lacked.

Cynthia turned back to Myst.

“No, just thought about something I forgot…” she said calmly.

You know.

Like a liar.

Truly, where was the thousand-meter drop when you needed it?

….

Rei jumped lightly on her feet, as Myst and Cynthia stared down at the Normal-type.

“Honestly, my first idea was making a Custom Move by combining Quick Attack and one of the Elemental Punches,” Myst began. “And I think I’ve even figured out a decent way to pull it off. We’ve already been working on shortening the time between Quick Attack and following up with another move, so if I just shift that training into using both moves at the same time, I think we could eventually get her to activate two separate type energies at once…” Myst hesitated.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the issue? I agree, that would probably work.”

“Well, yeah, maybe, but I’m not sure it would actually… change anything.” Myst rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, because of all the work we’ve already done shortening the gap between moves, Rei can kind of already do it.”

He nodded toward Rei.

“Like, just watch.”

Rei blinked.

Then, realizing what her trainer meant, she grinned.

Without a sound, her body lit up white—

And in the blink of an eye, she vanished.

It was only by luck that Cynthia’s eyes flicked to a nearby boulder, just in time to catch the way the white energy surrounding Rei shimmered, blinked out, and was replaced by a crackling yellow glow focused around one paw.

Thunder Punch.

Still riding the momentum from her dash, she slammed her tiny fist into the rock.

Boom!

It exploded.

Rei shot straight through the flying debris, landed neatly on her feet, bounced once, then skidded to a stop.

For a moment, Cynthia just stared.

Then, as she slowly began to open her mouth—

Rei flashed white again and, in an instant, she was standing beside them, grinning up at them like nothing had happened.

“Good job,” Myst said, smiling softly.

Rei gave a snappy salute, opening her mouth.

“Bun—.”

Just to pause, probably catching the way Cynthia was still staring at the spot where the boulder used to be.

Slowly Rei turned to look, her eyes scanning the area, taking in the absolute devastation the rock’s explosion had left behind. Chunks of stone had scattered in every direction, the fragments having carved deep gouges into the earth, torn through the grass, and transformed the previously idyllic clearing into a cratered mess.

Her nose twitched.

Then, with a movement that looked suspiciously like she was erasing evidence, she dropped down, wiped the rock dust off her paw, and stood again.

“Buneary,” she declared firmly.

A statement, not a question.

She’d done her job.

If anything happened now, well… that was Myst’s problem.

Cynthia giggled as Myst smashed a hand into his face.

“I guess you should get your alibi ready, Myst. The rangers might be coming for you,” she teased.

Myst groaned, dragging his hand down his face.

“Rei, it’s fine. This whole area’s meant for training. You think I’d ask you to blow up a rock without checking with Cynthia first?”

Rei nodded instantly, not even a hint of hesitation.

Myst just stared at his first partner, then, slowly, he tilted his head up towards the sky, like he was telling the universe that he was just about done with this shit.

Cynthia used the moment to hide her smile, forcing her face into something resembling neutral.

“Myst,” she said evenly, “when did I say you could destroy the area? I told you that you could train here. Not crater it.”

Myst froze. Then his eyes flicked back to the wreckage Rei had left behind.

“If anyone asks,” he said seriously, “we found it like this.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say…”

She glanced down at Rei. “But yeah, I see what you mean. A Custom Move that just combines Quick Attack and an Elemental Punch... it wouldn’t really add anything new, right?”

Myst sighed, still looking at the ruined boulder.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m stuck on. I don’t really get where I’m supposed to start. Like… Roselia clearly figured out his Custom Move on his own, but how did you figure out what was going into it to make Riolu’s? I mean, Leaf Defense is obviously useful for a Grass-type Gym, but considering how hard you keep saying it is to train a Custom Move, I doubt you made it just for that.”

Cynthia pursed her lips and glanced down at Riolu’s Poké Ball.

“To be honest, you got it half right. I did train Leaf Defense with the Gym in mind, but only because I thought it would be useful in general too.”

She paused, then continued with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Riolu’s a pure close-combat specialist. He doesn’t have any ranged options yet, so he’s completely reliant on getting in close. Against most elemental attacks, that’s actually fine, since they’re made of almost nothing but type energy, they tend to be condensed in some way. That makes them narrow, and a lot easier to dodge with Detect.”

She shifted, her voice tightening slightly.

“But against something like Magical Leaf, or Swift, or even a really strong Rock Slide? Dodging isn’t always an option. Or at least, not an efficient one, not when you’ve got a hundred small attacks coming from a hundred different angles. That’s why I made Leaf Defense, to compensate for that weakness.”

Myst narrowed his eyes.

“But you call it Leaf Defense.”

Cynthia tilted her head.

“Yes? Because it was made as a defense against Magical Leaf. And attacks like it, that rely—”

Myst held up a hand, stopping her.

“Cynthia. That’s not the point.”

He shook his head with mock gravity.

“My point is that you made a super cool, really creative Custom Move… and decided to name it Leaf Defense. I’m not sure how to tell you this, but that name sucks.”

Cynthia flushed instantly.

“It does not! It’s a name that reflects both the origin and the function of the move. It’s clear! It’s concise! It makes sense!”

“Uh-huh,” Myst said, thoroughly unimpressed.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh please. Like you could come up with a better name. Hell, say you did go through with that combo of Quick Attack and one of the Elemental Punches. What would you call it, Mr. Know-it-all?”

Myst didn’t even hesitate.

“Elemental Burst.”

Cynthia opened her mouth.

Paused.

…Okay, that did sound kind of cool. It captured the burst of speed, the elemental strike, and even had a certain flair to it. It was flashy but clear. It was—

No.

She forced her mouth back open.

“You could’ve thought about that before this conversation. Come up with something better than Leaf Defense then, if you’re so clever.”

Myst rolled his eyes.

“Razorflow, Shear Dance, Motion Cleave hell even something as simple as Path Clear would be better!”

Cynthia pursed her lips.

She wasn’t going to lie, those did sound… quite nice.

Even so…

She pouted slightly.

Myst massaged his temple with two fingers and let out a long, deep breath.

“Okay, fine. We can come back to your tragic naming sense later.” He stressed the word, making it very clear this conversation was not over, merely paused to focus on something more important. “For now, I think I kind of get what you were saying. You mean I should focus on finding something Rei is bad at, right?”

At that, Rei let out a sharp sound of protest, stamping a foot into the ground.

“Buneary!”

Cynthia had been around her long enough to understand exactly what she meant.

I have no weaknesses!

Myst rolled his eyes.

“Rei, do you want a Custom Move, or do you not want a Custom Move?”

Rei paused, and for a second she was clearly weighing whether getting a cool Custom Move was worth the insult of being underestimated. In the end, she sniffed the air once, shook her fist, as if to say she would never surrender her pride, and then…

Rei took a small step back, lowered her head just a little, and pretended she'd never said anything at all.

Cynthia smiled at the little rabbit’s complete lack of shame, then turned back to Myst.

“I mean, that is one of the two main directions people usually go in,” she said. “In general, there are two routes with Custom Moves. You either focus on shoring up your strengths, like Roselia did, or you try to cover a weakness, like I did with Riolu.”

“So what do you recommend I do?” Myst asked.

Cynthia shrugged.

“No clue. Rei’s your Pokémon, you know her better than I do. I can’t really help you there. Like I said, Custom Moves are meant to be… well, custom. I could come up with something, sure, but odds are it wouldn’t suit either of you as well as something you came up with.”

Myst glanced down at Rei.

She looked up at him with wide, adorable eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “this might take some time.”

Her eyes immediately narrowed into slits.

Chapter Text

Now, was yesterday’s break day necessary?

Yes, she would honestly say it was.

It was the first full day in what felt like forever where she could relax, train her Pokémon, and just breathe without constantly checking the time or worrying about what came next.

More than that, even she had woken up exhausted, her feet aching and her muscles stiff.

Myst?

Myst had been dead.

Well, not actually dead, obviously, but it felt like a close thing.

For the first half of the day, he’d barely moved from where he’d collapsed into his own miniature tent, and even after he had gotten up, he had looked like someone had unplugged him from life itself.

Still, by the afternoon, he had more or less bounced back to his usual self, being fit enough that Cynthia had almost forgotten how tired he looked at the start of the day.

Some of that probably came down to that the training session had been not only productive, with her helping him with custom moves and him helping her figure out how to perfect Fire Fang, but also just a lot of fun.

Still, she wasn’t going to lie, someday she was going to push Myst down into a cart and drag him to a proper doctor, just to figure out how the hell he seemed to be able to ignore all physical limits.

Not that she didn’t have a guess.

Aura.

It had to be Aura.

She was pretty sure.

Probably.

Hopefully.

The alternative was that he was just… breaking, slowly, and pretending he wasn’t.

Which, okay, also sounded like something Myst would do, but still, if that was the case it wasn’t sustainable.

So, she was putting her money on Aura, and that he had a lot more than the average person. Some people were just born like that, giving them better recovery time and an easier time building muscles.

Because without it?

She swore Myst should’ve dropped dead at least ten times by now.

Now, you might ask, what did any of this have to do with her current situation?

The answer was pretty simple.

It was, one hundred percent, a way to distract herself from the bone biting cold that had enveloped her body.

Cynthia snapped back to reality as her front tire slipped sideways on the wet pavement. Her balance tilted sharply before she righted herself with a jolt. Water streamed across the road in little rivers, making the path treacherous under her tires. Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and ominous.

Yeah.

She really wished they’d taken that break day today instead, like they’d originally planned.

Cycling Road was supposed to take four days to cross if you biked about eight hours a day. That was the idea behind its layout, anyway. There were eight official rest stops scattered along the way, but they weren’t spaced evenly.

The first half only had three, while the second half had five.

So originally, they were going to bike to Rest Stop One, rest there for a night and then head straight to Rest Stop Three, roughly halfway. When they arrived there they would take a full day to rest, reassess, and figure out how they wanted to tackle the back half.

But instead?

Well, Myst decided that he wanted to zone out for a day, and so they ended biking straight to Rest Stop Two, in just the first day.

And now?

Now, they were paying for it.

Even though the distance between Rest Stop Two and Three was only three hours, that didn’t matter much when after an hour a storm decided to materialize from thin air.

Honestly, if somebody told her somewhere every Politoed on the route had decided to organize their yearly rain festival, she would believe them.

Cynthia gritted her teeth and kept pedalling, rain stinging her face like needles. She was soaked, freezing, and this road, this beautifully constructed, wonderfully scenic nightmare of a road, just kept winding down and down with no end in sight.

Truly, this is what she got for not following the plan.

“Cynthia!” Myst’s voice cut through the rain, barely audible over the downpour.

She glanced sideways, saw his mouth move, but between the wind and the slashing rain, she couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

She bit her lip, and risked edging closer, squinting through the storm like it would help her hear better.

It obviously didn’t.

It also didn’t need to.

Because when she did, she saw better, and more importantly, she saw what Myst had probably just noticed.

The mountainside was leveling out.

And in the near distance, barely visible through the curtain of rain, the road split.

Her heart burst with relief.

….

The storm had hit about an hour after they left.

Which meant that, technically, it would’ve been faster to turn back to Rest Stop Two.

Not that they’d considered that.

They were close. Rest Stop Three wasn’t like the others. It was the only one that resembled a proper building. The rest were caves, makeshift shelters, carved-out ledges.

But Three?

An inn. A real, honest-to-God inn.

A sturdy, dry, warm inn.

Cynthia dismounted the second the slope evened out and she was close enough to see the bike rack. Her boots splashed into a puddle as she half-ran, half-dragged her bike to it. One other bike stood there already, slicked with rain.

The second she arrived, she fumbled with the handlebars, trying to slot the bike into place.

It didn’t budge.

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Her fingers, numb, clumsy and unresponsive, refused to cooperate.

Why couldn’t the stupid thing just fit.

She glared at the rack.

Not only was she drenched, she could feel water slipping down her back, soaking into her shirt, pooling around her socks. Her grip slipped again. The handlebar clanged against the frame like it was fighting her.

Cynthia grit her teeth.

This was stupid, nobody was going to steal a rental bike in this storm anyway. She might as well just throw it under the rack or something inste—

Myst grabbed it from her hands.

Then, without a word, he lifted the front slightly and slid it into place with practiced ease.

Cynthia stared at the rack, blinking.

Apparently, the design required you to lift the front wheel a few centimeters off the ground to make it catch. She could see it now, the way the slot angled downward just enough to throw her off.

Of all the stupid ways to design a—

Before she could finish the thought, Myst grabbed her wrist.

No warning. No explanation.

Just pulled.

She stumbled after him as he darted toward the building, wrenched the door open, and practically shoved her inside.

The door slammed behind them with a final thunk.

Cynthia stood frozen, shivering. Water streamed from her hair in droplets. Her soaked clothes clung like a second skin. Every shift of her weight made her sneakers squelch audibly.

She blinked once.

Then twice.

The warmth inside hit her like a physical force, a wall of blessed heat against her rain-numbed body.

It was almost enough to make her forget the way every person in the room turned to look at them.

Almost.

Twelve, maybe more. All trainers, by the look of them. Each one snapped their head toward her and Myst in near-perfect unison, eyes locked on the newcomers in an almost unnatural way.

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

Myst, unfazed, raised his voice. “Hey, where’s the fireplace? And is there a room we can use? Maybe a blanket we could borrow?”

Nobody answered.

They just kept staring.

Cynthia might’ve flushed under the weight of their gazes if she weren’t already miserably cold. Instead, she hugged her arms tighter around herself, like she could squeeze warmth out of her own spine through sheer willpower.

Myst frowned, about to speak again, when finally, one of the trainers blinked, as if just now realizing that yes, people stupid enough to cycle through the storm actually did exist.

“Sorry!” the boy said, jumping to his feet. “Didn’t think anyone else would be arriving in this weather.”

He jogged toward them, moving with a noticeable urgency. As he got closer, Cynthia’s eyes were drawn to the large white bandage wrapped around his head. A blotch of blood had soaked through part of it, stark against the pale fabric.

He caught her glance and offered a crooked smile. “Oh, yeah. Took a bad fall down the stairs. Watch out for the third step, there’s a hole in it.”

He waved it off like it was nothing, then gave her a once-over. His expression softened.

“But never mind that. You look like you seriously need to get changed.”

Cynthia nodded, fast and jerky, her head bobbing like it was answering on its own.

She didn’t trust her voice just yet.

….

Cynthia had always believed in packing light when it came to clothing.

Essentials only. One shift of real clothing, enough underwear to rotate every other day, and the rest of the space? Reserved for medicine, food, and whatever gear was necessary to survive the actual camping part of the journey.

The important parts, really.

It was a system that worked.

Never mind the exasperated look her grandmother had given her the first time she saw Cynthia pack, so far everything had been going great.

Now though, curled in front of a crackling fireplace with a scratchy inn blanket wrapped tight around her trembling frame as she shivered violently, she came to a new and sobering conclusion:

A rain jacket was absolutely going on the essentials list from now on.

That, or she was getting a Pokémon that could use Sunny Day.

The sofa creaked faintly under her weight as she shifted, the old thing somehow managing to feel both overstuffed and strangely firm in certain places. Myst sat beside her, comfortably hogging one of the oversized armrests like it was a throne, dry, already changed, and most importantly, radiating the kind of warmth that made her hate everything.

“I haaaate you,” she declared, shooting him a withering glare as her voice reduced to a shaky clatter of syllables.

Myst glanced over, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he held his hands out toward the fire.

“Well, I did tell you to get a rain jacket,” he commented casually.

Cynthia glared harder. “You didn’t use one, and you look completely fine!”

Myst shrugged. “Yeah, well. I got used to it. Didn’t exactly have many options for staying warm in the forest. Eventually, I just sort of… stopped caring.”

She pouted, mostly because he was being reasonable.

So, in response to this reason, she burrowed herself deeper into the blanket, like she could hide from it.

Myst sighed. “You want me to see if I can get you a hot cocoa or something? I think your clattering’s making everyone uncomfortable.”

Cynthia hesitated, then peeked up from under the blanket.

And realized that she didn’t hear anybody talking.

People were here, sure. Scattered around the room, picking at their food or sipping drinks. But the silence was strange. Not companionable. Not tired.

Just... empty.

Of course, it kind of made sense. Most of them probably arrived in the same miserable state she had. She wouldn’t want to talk to strangers right now either.

Still.

She caught the eyes of one man across the room. He stared at her, face blank, gaze steady, then slowly turned back to his drink, sipping it again.

Cynthia ducked back into the safety of the blanket.

“…Yes please.” She mumbled.

Myst grinned and started to rise, only to freeze as a hand suddenly extended down from above, holding out a steaming mug of—

Cynthia stared.

Dark, rich goodness. A single marshmallow floated on top.

Hot cacao.

“Got you both a cup,” the boy said, tone casual. “Looks like you needed it.”

She took it without hesitation, the cup’s scorching heat sinking into her fingers like heaven. One sip, and warmth blossomed in her chest like a fire lit from within.

Then she looked up, and realized it was the boy who had greeted them earlier.

The bandage on his head was still prominent, but now that the chill had begun to fade from her body, she noticed something else too: he was older than she’d first assumed. Not her age or even Myst’s.

Out of his teens, at the very least.

So, if he was a trainer, he was probably either running a very late first circuit… or he was out here on some kind of mission.

“Thanks,” Myst said, taking a sip of his cocoa and flashing a relaxed smile.

The boy, or maybe man was a better word, shook his head with an easy grin.

“No problem… Name’s Kael,” he said, sticking out a hand.

Myst took it gingerly, giving it a slow shake.

“Myst. And this is—” he motioned toward her, “Cynthia.”

Cynthia nodded absently, too busy savouring another sip of the sweet, heavenly warmth of her cocoa to give her own greeting.

Kael blinked, his expression shifting slightly. “Cynthia? Like... Cynthia Shirona?” he asked, his gaze flickering toward her.

Myst tensed, just slightly, but before he could say anything, Kael barreled on.

“Damn. I think I saw your battle against Byron, that was crazy. Hard to believe you’re only on your first Circuit trip. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed you were an eight-badge trainer doing a rematch just to train up a new team member or something.”

Myst relaxed, and Cynthia paused mid-sip.

“You pay a lot of attention to the Gym Circuit?” she asked, glancing at Kael over the rim of her cup.

Kael nodded easily. “Yeah. Made it to five badges before crashing out my season. Been thinking about saving up and giving it another shot.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Difference in pay between a five-badge and a six- or seven-badge trainer is huge, you know. And if I get lucky, I can maybe even get accepted as a ranger.”

He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Though at the rate I’m going, saving enough’s gonna take ten years. I swear my team eats through half my budget every month.”

Cynthia nodded slowly.

That was the harsh reality of trying to make a living as a Pokémon trainer. Even getting started usually required earning four or five badges, just to qualify for jobs that barely let you scrape by. Six badges was the minimum for becoming a ranger, but even then, you wouldn’t be paid well.

The real jump came at seven. That was the second major watershed, and beating it meant you would usually make it to the conference.

After that?

Everything came down to your placements.

Top 100? Nobody remembered your name.

Top 10? People started making calls.

Win?

Well, you were pretty much set for life. Even if you didn’t end up in on the Elite Four or as the Champion, conference winners were respected.

And that was just the people who did it after multiple attempts.

Winning in your first season?

People still talked about the last time that happened.

Twenty years ago.

“How does that work, actually?” Myst asked. “Rerunning the circuit, I mean.”

Kael reeled back slightly, like the words had physically struck him. Then his face hardened, brow furrowing into a tight frown.

“What kind of question is tha—”

“Sorry,” Cynthia cut in quickly, her cheeks flaring with heat. “Myst is an idiot. He didn’t mean anything by it, he just has a really sheltered background.”

She glared daggers at Myst, even though she knew it wasn’t really his fault.

Still.

Kael had offered them warmth and cocoa.

He was being extremely nice.

And now here they were, Cynthia Shirona and her weird, blunt traveling companion, accidentally making it sound like they were mocking him for not completing the circuit in one go.

Like that was expected.

Like that was normal.

But it wasn’t, not unless you came from a place with money, legacy, or clan support.

Kael took a slow breath.

“No, it’s fine…” he said after a moment. “I guess since you don’t know, I’ll just explain it.”

His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of something, almost like frustration.

“Most people don’t really have much information about Pokémon starting out. So we have to figure out a lot of things as we go. Stuff that probably seems obvious, like what type a Pokémon is, or how to best use their strengths, we learn that through trial and error.”

He clenched a first.

“I mean, it’s gotten a lot better. But if you go back, say, fifty years, families that weren’t rich or part of a clan didn’t even have a way to buy basic books on Pokémon. Never mind getting a starter that wasn’t a Bidoof or a Kricketot.”

Myst tilted his head slightly. “So it’s hard to finish the circuit in one go because the difficulty curve’s just... too steep?”

Kael shook his head. “It’s mostly about time and information. Some of the things you probably take for granted? I have to spend weeks, even months, figuring them out. That’s why the Champion’s new policies were such a big deal, they give new trainers a real chance to build a strategy before the game really starts. Really, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t even be here.”

He patted his belt where his Poké Balls were clipped.

“I kept trying to make my Ambipom use its speed to keep distance, whittle opponents down with Swift. It worked great when we were young. Took me forever to realize he’s way better just rushing in and overwhelming people.”

He sighed, leaning back slightly.

“Sure, everyone knows type matchups nowadays. That stuff’s everywhere. But figuring out what moves a specific Pokémon is actually good at learning?” He shook his head. “No one wants to share that kind of information.”

Then his gaze flicked toward Cynthia again, almost thoughtful.

“Honestly? I wish I had one of those Pokédex-thingies they talk about on the news. Would be crazy useful to just check if there’s any point trying to get Ambipom to learn Fire Punch, or hell, just see what moves the opponents Pokémon normally learns.”

Cynthia felt her heart pinch as she suddenly became acutely aware of the Pokédex resting in her bag, mostly unused.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but it just wasn’t… that useful.

Not in the way others might’ve found it useful, anyway.

Compared to most trainers, even those from big clans, being the granddaughter of the region’s former Head Professor meant she’d always had access to information. Books. Guidance. Notes that didn’t exist in any public database. Entire shelves of research that would be passed down like heirlooms in other families.

The average trainer? They probably had one or two books on Pokémon at home, if even that.

Yeah…

Cynthia felt a blush creep up her neck as she stared down into her cocoa.

She’d always known she was privileged, but hearing it from somebody else?

She hadn’t realized how wide the gap really was.

Myst, who by all accounts should’ve been even worse off than Kael, somehow always kept pace with her. Hell, half the time he seemed to know more.

And that had made her forget.

Forget that neither of them were the baseline.

As Kael finished speaking, a silence settled over the group. It wasn’t awkward exactly, but as it stretched Cynthia felt a subtle prickle of discomfort. The kind that wrapped around her ribs and made her want to say something.

Anything.

So she glanced at Myst, trying to signal him to say something. For once though, just when she actually needed him, he had turned his head away, instead staring at the other guests.

With a little warmth returning to her fingers, she forced a grin and glanced toward the fireplace.

“Is it alright if I release my Gabite? I think she’d appreciate the heat.”

Kael blinked, surprised, but then nodded easily.

“I mean, sure, if she doesn’t tear anything up, I don’t mind. And, well, even if she does, it’s not like this place is mine. If it was, I’d have staffed it better.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Cynthia gave a small smile, reaching for Queenie’s Poké Ball. She tapped the expansion button, then released her partner with a flick of her wrist.

Queenie emerged in a flash of red light, her head turning slowly as she took in the room, silent, scanning, alert.

Then her gaze locked onto the fire.

“You can lay down, Queenie,” Cynthia said gently, laughing under her breath as the Gabite hesitated.

Ever since that one time her grandmother had scolded her for blocking the fireplace, Queenie had been weirdly hesitant about it.

Truly, if there was one being Queenie feared, it was Carolina Shirona.

Still, after a few slow, deliberate glances over her shoulder at the other guests, Queenie finally curled up in front of the fire.

Cynthia turned to Myst, about to ask if he wanted to let out Rei or Ralts, but stopped when she noticed he wasn’t looking at her.

He was still watching the other trainers.

She opened her mouth, about to tell him off for staring, but before she could, Kael’s voice cut in.

“You nickname your Pokémon?” he asked, sounding almost like he couldn’t believe it.

Cynthia flushed, snapping her attention back to him. “What about it?” she bit back.

Kael’s expression twisted into a half-smirk, the kind that didn’t know if it wanted to be amused or dismissive.

“Isn’t that a little... childish?”

She flinched, and felt her hands clench around her cocoa.

Here we go again.

“I don’t see the issue. It’s not like I nickname every Pokémon I have. And Queenie’s been with me a long time.”

Keal tilted his head.

“So just drop the nickname, then? When Ambipom was an Aipom, I used to call him ‘Hands.’ I don’t do that anymore. Seriously, how can people take you seriously if you’re still calling your Pokémon kid names?”

She bit her lip.

He wasn’t wrong.

A lot of people thought nicknaming Pokémon was childish. Technically, it wasn’t even necessary. Pokémon didn’t understand names the same way humans did. Their species names, like Gabite, were part of how they communicated. Intonation, timing, expression... When Queenie said Gabite, it could mean a dozen different things.

Sometimes, it even meant her name.

So giving a Pokémon a nickname was more for the trainer’s sake. And a lot of people, especially the serious types, saw it as silly.

It was just that…

She never did.

Ever since she’d gotten him, the urge to give Riolu a proper nickname had been there. And lately, Roselia had joined in too.

She liked nicknames. Thoughtful ones. Names that made her team feel closer, not just another Riolu or Roselia in the world, but hers.

Her companions.

Her friends.

She’d always felt that way, and not just with Pokémon.

It was the same instinct that had led her to start calling Myst… well, Myst.

So even knowing people found it childish, names still floated through her head sometimes. Little ideas she hadn’t spoken aloud.

Dojo. Snaps. Paws. Petal.

It wasn’t like she had decided on anything yet, but the thoughts lingered.

It just wouldn’t look good, would it?

She was supposed to be a serious trainer.

Someone people looked up to.

Someone they respected.

Really, she should’ve dropped “Queenie” a long time ago. It was exactly the kind of name people would laugh at behind her back.

But she couldn’t.

Because Queenie had been Queenie from the start. The name wasn’t just a name anymore.

It was a memory. A choice.

A bond.

The first moment she’d said it, half out of frustration, half out of fondness, that had been the moment they’d become partners.

Cynthia opened her mouth, not quite sure if she wanted to agree with Kael or bite back harder.

She didn’t get the chance.

Myst, finally, snapped his head around, a condescending smile already creeping across his face.

“Okay, first of all? That’s stupid as hell. I call my Buneary Rei, and the only reason my Ralts doesn’t have a name yet is because I haven’t picked one.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Seriously, what’s the problem with nicknaming your friends? How is me calling Cynthia Princess any different from her calling her Gabite Queenie?”

Kael frowned. “How is that the same? Your Pokémon need to respe—”

Myst cut him off, tone dropping a degree.

“Second of all, when did you get here and, more importantly, when exactly did you fall down the stairs?”

Kael blinked, looked like he was about to push back.

Then stopped.

Probably because Myst wasn’t smiling anymore.

Kael grimaced, the edge of his defensiveness curling inward.

“Whatever,” he muttered, then let out a sigh. “I arrived…” He furrowed his brow. “Yesterday? I think? I kind of ended up traveling with most of these guys. Just by chance. We were supposed to leave today, but then the storm hit, and… we stayed.”

He scratched absently at the edge of his bandage.

“As for the fall... maybe twenty minutes before you got here? I don’t know. It’s fuzzy. I was pretty loopy until you walked in the door.”

Myst turned again, scanning the room behind them.

The other trainers were still right where they’d been. Picking at their food. Sipping at their drinks.

Nothing looked different.

But for the first time, Cynthia noticed how quiet it was when they weren’t speaking.

Nobody said anything.

No idle chatter.

The only sounds were the gentle hiss of rain against the windows… and the soft, steady crackle of the fire.

That was it.

No forks scraping.

No shifting chairs.

No footsteps.

No music.

No murmured conversations.

Just static background noise—

—and the noise of their own breathing.

Myst leaned his head back slightly, stared at the ceiling for a long, thin second, and let out a single, quiet, mournful:

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

The adrenaline that flooded Cynthia’s system burned away the last traces of cold, leaving only raw tension behind. The hair on the back of her neck rose slowly.

She’d seen them on the way in, picking at their food, sipping their drinks. She’d seen them turn, one by one, to look at her.

She just couldn’t hear them.

Slowly, she turned away from the flickering fire, lifting her chin just high enough to peek over the back of the sofa. The fabric brushing against her hands as she braced herself for balance.

It didn’t help.

The sofa had a strange give to it. Not like stuffing or springs, but something softer.

Like soft muscle, or maybe memory foam.

Frowning, she shifted her grip to the ridge instead, and let her eyes drift across the room.

When they’d first arrived, she’d been soaked, frozen, too exhausted to care about details. She hadn’t looked at the trainers. Not really.

But now?

Now the signs were obvious.

They looked normal. Dressed normal. Sat like normal people would.

But they didn’t move like normal people.

Every gesture was too smooth, too precise. No fidgets, no shifting in their seats. Their expressions didn’t change. Just the same frozen, polite, neutral smiles.

And more than that, there was a strange, uncanny sameness to them.

For a second she just stared at them, as they picked at their food and sipped thei—

Her eyes widened as she took them all in at once and realized what was so off.

They were synchronized.

Forks hit plates in perfect unison. Cups rose and lowered in flawless harmony. Every action played out like a perfectly rehearsed performance.

An orchestra.

Not a single beat out of place.

Cynthia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she slowly started to rise—

Myst grabbed her arm and yanked her down behind the oddly-colored black and red sofa.

She stumbled, crashing back into the scratchy inn blanket. Her head hit the cushion behind her, and she blinked up at the wooden ceiling, dazed.

Then the heat hit her. Her face flushed as she twisted toward him, already opening her mouth, ready to snap—

Then stopped.

The door.

It was gone.

Not closed.

Not barricaded.

Gone.

The ancient wood with its deep-carved ghost-warding sigils, she’d noticed it the second they walked in, even through her half-frozen haze.

Now it was nothing but smooth, unbroken wall.

Kael's eyes lingered on the empty space where the door had been. Then he glanced at them, a bitter smile twitching across his lips.

“Well,” he said, voice too even. “That’s interesting, now, isn’t it?”

He gave a slow blink.

“I guess I missed some stuff.”

Myst let out a low groan beside her, eyes drifting once more toward the trainers across the room.

“I mean, no shit. This is basically horror story territory,” he muttered, gaze locking on one of the men at a table.

The man took a slow sip of his drink.

Half a dozen others mirrored the motion in perfect sync.

“…Which means I’m placing five bucks on Kael being in on it. Never trust the innkeeper,” Myst added, flashing her a grin that was, always, always completely unhelpful.

Cynthia sighed.

“Myst, shut up. Kael, you—”

She stopped.

Her eyes flicked to Kael again.

It was strange, wasn’t it?

Sure, nothing about the situation screamed danger at first glance, but spend even a few minutes with those “trainers” and the wrongness became impossible to ignore.

The silence.

The movements.

The vacant expressions.

She’d only needed ten seconds to spot a dozen red flags.

How hadn’t he in twenty minutes.

Kael raised both hands in mock surrender. “Before you go full paranoid on me, I don’t know why I’m fine, okay? But look at them. Do I look like that? They’re not even blinking. I’m pretty sure one of them has been smiling at a spoon for the last five minutes.”

Cynthia’s fingers drifted toward her belt, brushing the cool surface of her Poké Balls. Nearby, Queenie had already lifted her head.

“You could be the one doing this,” Cynthia said flatly. “All it’d take is one powerful Psychic-type. Hypnotize everyone, rob them blind while they sit quietly like good little puppets. We just arrived at the wrong time, so you had to improvise.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Myst cut in.

“Cynthia, the head wound,” he said, gesturing toward Kael. “He probably got hit by the same thing as the others. Then he took a tumble, and bam, head trauma fixes brain trauma. Classic.”

She shot him a withering look.

What did that even mean? Head trauma fixing brain trauma?

That had to be one of the stupidest things she’d ever hea—

She paused.

Because as idiotic as that sounded… he might actually have a point.

Head trauma didn’t fix anything, obviously, but the fall? That could’ve jolted Kael out of a weak psychic hold. Maybe even disrupted a possession attempt.

If that’s what was happening here.

She let out a weak breath.

“Sorry Kael.” She mumbled.

Then as Kael waved her off, she turned.

Just hiding wouldn’t tell them anything.

Cynthia climbed up the sofa, the odd covering feeling almost like fur, and tried to peak over it again—

Just for Myst’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Cynthia, let’s not peek until we have a plan, okay?”

She brushed him off with a glare. “And what kind of plan is going to change anything? It’s not like they’re reacting to anything we do. If they were going to attack when we looked at them, they’d have jumped us the second we walked in.” She paused, glancing towards the trainers, “We need more info.”

Myst didn’t even blink. “I agree. But what if they only respond when we act out of character or something? Walking in from the rain? Normal. Falling down stairs? Normal. Bouncing up and down behind furniture?”

He didn’t finish. Just gave her that look.

She refused to give him the satisfaction.

 “Right. Then tell me, Mr. Haunted House Expert, how does knowing that help us? We sit here second-guessing every move, or we do something. Eventually, we’re going to have to test it.”

Myst opened his mouth, and she didn’t even need to hear the words to know they’d be nonsense.

“Guys,” So it was lucky Kael cut in, voice low. “As much fun as it is listening to you two flirt-via-argument, maybe we should start whispering.”

Cynthia’s irritation paused.

She parsed the words, blinked, and felt a sudden, involuntary flush rise to her cheeks as she—

Froze.

Three of the closest trainers, the only ones with a direct line of sight to their little corner, were staring straight at them.

No sound, no movement.

Just wide, frozen, pleasant smiles.

Cynthia slowly turned back to Myst and Kael.

“Okay,” she whispered. “We make a plan.”

….

The first step was simple: retreat.

Assuming casual movement wouldn’t trigger anything, they quietly slipped out of the main hall, up the stairs to Myst’s room, and shut the door behind them.

Then locked it.

Which probably didn’t matter at all.

“So,” Myst began, keeping his voice low, “what do you guys think? Get Queenie to punch a hole through the wall with Dragon Claw and make a break for it?”

Cynthia inhaled slowly, then turned toward him. “Myst, those might not look like people right now, but they are. Kael said he was traveling with them. Just because they’re…”

She trailed off, unsure what word to use.

“Hypnotized?” Myst offered.

She nodded. “Maybe. Hypnosis could do this, but…”

“Wait,” he cut in, frowning. “You mean the move Hypnosis? I thought that just put Pokémon to sleep.”

“In battle, sure,” Cynthia said, glancing his way. “But that’s because you’re using it against something resisting you, fully alert, actively fighting back. In those conditions, all it can do is knock them out briefly. But on someone unsuspecting?”

She hesitated, “It can do a lot… more.”

Myst mulled that over, nodding slowly. “Still. The sound thing, and the door vanishing? That’s weird. I figured this was a ghost thing the second I realized we were the only ones making noise. And when the door disappeared?”  He raised an eyebrow. “Like, seriously, what's next? Bleeding walls? I mean could you get more cliché?”

Kael nodded, tapping the table he was sitting at. “Yeah, this doesn’t feel like Psychic-type behaviour. They mess with minds, twist your thoughts. But this? The silence, the presentation… the drama? That’s classic Ghost. They don’t just mess with you, they set a stage.”

They all looked toward the door.

It was still there.

“It doesn’t matter what type it is,” Cynthia said firmly, eyes narrowing. “What matters is how powerful it has to be. If it’s a Psychic-type? It could’ve picked them off one by one, set this up over time. Find people when their isolated, in their rooms, and use Hypnosis on them… But if it’s Ghost?”

Her lips tightened.

“Then it’s suppressing twelve minds simultaneously. Keeping all of them docile, and controlling them.”

She looked at Myst.

“That kind of power? We might need your dumb wall-smashing plan after all.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Kael exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “We can’t assume the worst. Ghost-types that strong are rare. One just deciding this inn is its new playground?” He gave a tired shrug. “Odds are low. We’d have a better chance of getting hit by a—”

Myst shot to his feet, nearly knocking over the only empty chair.

“DON’T JINX IT!”

Cynthia flinched.

Kael froze.

For a long second, they just stared at Myst as his face slowly turned red.

Myst cleared his throat, looking away.

“…Just. Y’know. Statistically speaking I’ve had bad experiences after saying stuff like that.”

Kael stared at him, the rhythm of his finger tapping suddenly still.

Cynthia’s eyes flicked to him and stilled as she realized he actually looked angry at being interrupted.

“You—” he started, voice low, but caught himself. His gaze darted to Cynthia, and he swallowed whatever had been on the tip of his tongue.

He took a breath, visibly reined himself in, and then turned to face her fully.

“Against Byron,” he said, tone stiff, “you used a Riolu, right?”

She nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she said. “Why?”

“How good is it at tracking Aura?”

A beat passed.

She held his eyes a moment longer, then slowly reached down and unclipped a Poké Ball from her belt.

“Pretty good,” she said quietly. “But…”

She didn’t finish, instead pulling out a Poké Ball from her belt, and flicking her wrist.

He turned automatically, scanning for Cynthia—

Then froze.

His gaze locked onto Kael.

His stance shifted in an instant.

Muscles tensed. Feet planted.

“Gabite.”

The word sliced through the air and Riolu stopped cold, fist half-raised. His body was coiled like a spring, but he didn’t move.

Instead, slowly, he turned his head, not toward Cynthia, but up, toward the bed.

Queenie lay stretched across it like a queen on her throne, chin resting on one clawed hand, eyes narrowed in warning. She didn’t make a sound, she also didn’t need to.

“Riolu?” he asked quietly.

Queenie tilted her head slightly. Then gave a small shake and waved a fin, casual and dismissive, as if announcing Kael wasn’t worth worrying about.

Cynthia let out a small smile, glancing towards Kael, just to stop.

His eyes bore into Riolu, face set in an expression somewhere between desire and longing, the emotion intense enough that she wasn’t sure if he wanted to train a Lucario or hated her for having one.

Either way, it made her skin crawl.

“Ehm,” she said, deliberately loud.

Kael jolted, like someone had poured water down his back, and blinked rapidly. Then he turned to her with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry. Just started thinking about…” He trailed off, gave a half-hearted shrug, and didn’t finish the thought.

Cynthia didn’t ask him to.

Instead, she turned back to Riolu, kneeling down slightly to meet his eyes.

“Can you check the Aura in this room?” she asked gently. “Look for anything strange—especially traces of Ghost or Psychic energy. Anything that doesn’t belong.”

Riolu nodded once, slow and serious.

“And when we go back out,” she added after a beat, “I want you to check the others. The trainers. Look for… what kind of energy is mixed into their Aura. Tell me if something’s influencing it. Or…”

She hesitated.

What she was asking was complex, even for him. Riolu was skilled and recently he had even managed to externalize his Aura… But this?

This was another level entirely.

“Can you do it?” she asked softly.

Riolu paused, then gave a little shrug.

“Riolu.”

Maybe.

Myst, who’d been unusually quiet, shifted. “I could get Ralts to help?” he offered. “If someone’s controlling those trainers, maybe she could sense something. Or pick up the emotions underneath?”

Cynthia eyed him, noting the twitch of his mouth, like even he wasn’t sure if that made sense.

Still… he was probably right.

She wasn’t an expert, but she’d read enough stories, case files, and half-forgotten journal entries to know: possession didn’t always mean unconsciousness. Sometimes the victim remained aware, trapped in their own body, unable to scream.

And if that was the case?

Then Ralts, an empath, would absolutely sense it.

She opened her mouth to agree—

“Don’t.” Kael said firmly, “Maybe she could help. But if it’s a Ghost doing this, and it notices her?” His eyes flicked to Myst. “She’ll be a target. Riolu can take a hit. But Ralts?”

He shook his head.

“Psychic-types are weak to ghosts. And Ralts isn’t exactly known for her bulk.”

Myst frowned slightly. “Yeah, but—”

“She’s an empath, right?” Kael said, cutting him off.

Myst paused, then nodded slowly.

“That’s the other problem,” Kael continued. “If she gets close enough, she might feel everything. The panic. The confusion. Whatever the hell those people are going through.”

Myst bit his lip and Cynthia had to agree, it was a solid point.

Several solid points even.

“Okay, sure,” he muttered. “But that’s our plan then? We just… go back out, release our Pokémon, and hope for the best?”

Cynthia opened her mouth, about to agree—

Then stopped.

A slow grin pulled at her lips.

Myst blinked.

Then again.

His eyes widened.

She didn’t need to say a word.

Kael still answered, “I mean, pretty much? Just… Cynthia you should make sure your Riolu stays close. We need his eyes.”

…

As they walked down the stairs Cynthia wasn’t going to lie.

Something about watching Rei bounce ahead of them, ears flopping with every step as they moved toward what might be a literal fight for their lives, made her heart feel a little lighter.

Hell, even Riolu, trailing behind Rei like a lost puppy, brought a small smile to her lips.

Honestly, that rabbit was—

Her thoughts caught short as she nearly walked into Myst’s back. He’d stopped mid-step, crouched slightly, peering down into the main hall.

“Wait a second,” he mumbled.

Cynthia leaned to the side, trying to see what he was looking at, but his frame blocked most of her view.

She glanced back and Kael just shrugged.

Without another choice she sighed, stepping slightly to the side, and let her eyes instead fall to the stairs beneath her feet.

They looked brand new.

Not well-maintained.

New.

The wood was smooth and polished, not a single scuff or groove to suggest they’d ever borne the weight of dozens of travelers.

Cynthia felt her expression flatten.

That officially made them the most boring thing in the building.

“This is going to be interesting.” Myst said, then slowly rose to full height.

Cynthia snapped her eyes back to him, immediately catching the way his posture had changed, tense, alert.

“What?”

Myst frowned. “Nothing’s changed,” he said seriously.

She stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out how that qualified as a problem. Then, just as his lip began to twitch—

She rolled her eyes and slugged him lightly in the arm.

Idiot.

“Riolu, Kael, and people not named Myst, follow me down. Myst, you can stay here or throw yourself out a window. Whatever you find more useful.” Her mouth tugged up into a smile.

Myst grinned back, of course.

But, predictably, he still stayed right beside her as they made their way slowly down the steps.

And, as they reached the bottom, Cynthia had to admit it—Myst wasn’t wrong.

Nothing had changed.

The trainers were all exactly where they’d left them.

Still picking at their food.

Still sipping from their cups.

Still wearing those soft, eerily pleasant smiles.

Or, well—

One thing had changed.

They were all staring at them now.

Cynthia tensed. But she didn’t make a move.

If they weren’t attacking, there was no reason to attack back.

And she couldn’t exactly have Queenie fire off a Dragon Rage into a room full of potentially mind-controlled people.

So instead, she did the only thing she could.

She glanced at Riolu and gave him a sharp nod.

Riolu didn’t need more than that.

His eyes began to glow faintly, a cool blue shimmer dancing across his irises. Then he stepped forward, passing the worn edge of the long, overstuffed sofa they’d been sitting on earlier.

Cynthia barely gave it a glance, letting her eyes roam over the trainers.

They didn’t move, but their eyes followed them, heads snapping one by one to whoever was closest.

Mostly that was Rei, who moved across the room like she owned it, glancing at everything with sharp, curious eyes.

Cynthia sighed.

Honestly, Myst really needed to get some control over that rabbit.

Her eyes flicked toward her own team. In situations like this, unfamiliar place, potential threat, you needed your Pokémon to stay sharp, to stay put. Running around was a risk, not a privileg—

She froze.

Roselia stared at an open chest in the corner.

He stood there for a long moment, silent and still, then slowly reached in and plucked out a long silver chain. He held it up to the dim light, watching it glint with quiet curiosity… then, apparently unimpressed, let it clink gently back into the pile.

“Riolu,” Kael called out, voice cutting through the silence. “Do you see anything off? Anything that feels wrong? Ghosts can hide in objects, you know.”

Riolu paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

Kael exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across his face. His gaze swept over the room again, not even lingering on the other trainers for a second.

It was like Kael didn’t expect the threat to come from the other trainers, but rather to be hiding among them. Something else, tucked just out of view.

She glanced at a nearby trainer, and forced herself to not shudder.

Every second the trainers kept smiling their empty smiles, every second they sat just a little too still, was another second she expected them to lurch forward all at once and attack.

Really, she still half-expected they’d be running for their lives the moment whatever was controlling this place decided it was done pretending.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Rei eventually stopped bouncing, her posture dropping and her ears sagging flat to the floor, Cynthia began to realize something else.

If there was a threat here, it wasn’t attacking them just for being in the room.

“I guess your theory’s busted, Myst,” she called over her shoulder. “Or do you think half a dozen Pokémon walking all over the inn for ten minutes is still within the limits of normal?”

Myst gave a quiet laugh as he walked up beside her, his hands in his pockets.

“I forgot to ask,” he said lightly, “how long does Hypnosis last?”

Cynthia blinked. “You think whoever did this already left?”

Myst shrugged, glancing around the room. “I mean, maybe? If it’s a ghost, then yeah, it’s doing a great job of creeping us out. But if it’s a Psychic-type? We could probably just wake them up, right?”

He dropped his bag to the floor, unzipped a side compartment, and pulled out a water bottle with practiced ease.

Then, without hesitation, he started toward one of the trainers.

He never made it there.

Kael’s hand snapped out, fingers locking tight around Myst’s wrist

“Don’t,” Kael said, voice low and firm. “We can’t wake them yet.”

Myst paused, turning to look at him. His gaze sharpened. “Why?”

Kael hesitated for a beat, like he had to line the words up in his head before they made sense.

“Because…” he said slowly, “I think the ghost might be… split. Across everyone here. That’s why it’s not doing anything; it doesn’t have the strength to. I— I even think I remember it. Something rushing into me, and then I blacked out. Fell.”

He touched the edge of his bandage.

Cynthia frowned. “Ghosts can do a lot of things, but they’re still one Pokémon. They don’t just… split. Even the really powerful ones only control multiple people through tethers.”

Kael’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Tethers, maybe that’s what I remem—”

Myst cut him off, his voice suddenly tight.

“No. He might be right, Cynthia.” His eyes swept the room again, slow and deliberate now. “And if he is… we might be a little bit fucked.”

Cynthia stared at him, at the way he lowered the water bottle with new caution, retreating a step from the trainer he’d been about to splash.

“What do you mean, ghost Pokémon that can split?” she asked, taking a step closer, only to freeze as a nearby trainer’s head snapped toward her with eerie precision, unblinking and wrong.

Myst stepped back again, voice quieter now.

“So… uh, you ever heard of Spiritomb?”

Cynthia and Kael both shook their heads.

Myst let out a slow breath, glancing around the room like he was hoping it would offer him a way out.

“Okay, okay, okay.” He muttered, glancing around the room again, “So here is the deal. According to my memory, Spiritomb is a Ghost-Dark type. But it’s not like other Pokémon. It’s not a ghost.”

He looked at her, eyes unreadable.

“It’s one hundred and eight of them. One hundred and eight separate spirits, bound together.”

Cynthia blinked.

“You mean it’s made out of one hundred and eight different Ghost-types?” she asked, voice flat and deceptively calm.

Myst looked at her.

And smiled.

It wasn’t a smile.

“Well,” he said softly, “I sure hope not.”

For a moment, Cynthia just stood there, her mind trying to wrap itself around the implications. One hundred and eight ghosts. Even if every single one was something like a Shuppet or Ghastly, some of the weakest ghost-types imaginable, it would still be a force far beyond anything they could handle.

And that was if they were lucky.

Her voice was low, but steady. “You should release Ralts.”

Myst blinked, glancing down at his belt. “Why? I thought you agreed with Kael—”

Cynthia cut him off. “Myst, we need her to check if those people are possessed by a Dark-type. If you’re right about Spiritomb, then this is out of our league. At that point, we don’t play hero, we contact the authorities. I can use my Pokédex to flag an emergency, have them send in a response team.”

Myst pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. Instead he nodded, reaching for Ralts’s Poké Ball—

Until Kael’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t,” Kael said firmly. “You shouldn’t risk your Pokémon like that. I’ve got more badges. Let me handle it.”

Myst paused, blinking at him, before he offered a grateful smile.

Kael nodded, releasing his grip and reaching for one of the Poké Balls clipped to his belt.

Cynthia tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit.

Ralts was fragile, even for a Psychic-type. She might be ready for three-badge battles, but not this. Not against whatever they were dealing with.

And Kael?

He had five badges. Any Pokémon strong enough to be on his team should be tough enough to handle a quick scan or even a surprise attack. For something to seriously injure them in a single blow… it’d have to be Elite Four-level.

So why hadn’t he mentioned having a Psychic-type?

“Riolu!”

The cry snapped Cynthia’s attention. She turned sharply, eyes locking onto Riolu, standing beside the long, overstuffed sofa they’d been sitting on earlier.

His head was tilted.

But not in confusion.

His eyes were glowing. Brighter than she had ever seen. Aura shimmered through them like light caught in water.

“Riolu.” He said, firmly.

I found it.

He lifted one trembling paw.

And pressed it downward, not toward the trainers, not toward any object, but into the sofa.

His paw hit the cushion and—

Stars.