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 he 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.

  ……

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  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.