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 hair clips, 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 herself 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.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “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 and 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.