“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—”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  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.”