One day after Myst vs Flint.

  Luxio let out a roar of pain as Queenie tanked its Bite head-on, only to instantly retaliate with a sweeping Dragon Claw. The blue energy crashed into the Electric-type’s side with a resounding crack, breaking its hold on Queenie’s other arm and hurling it back.

  “Make it pause!” Volkner barked—

  Too late.

  Luxio twisted midair, landing lightly on its paws, eyes flashing silvery-white as it tried to unleash Scary Face—

  —but Queenie had already inhaled.

  In an instant, before Luxio could finish it’s move, blue fire erupted from her jaws in a thunderous Dragon Rage. The blast crossed the field in a blink, swallowing Luxio in a torrent of searing flame. Heat made from friction rippled through the arena, warping the air and forcing even the spectators to shield their eyes.

  And Queenie didn’t wait for Luxio to recover.

  Before the Electric-type was even visible through the blaze, she inhaled again and unleashed another Dragon Rage—

  But Luxio was ready this time.

  Like a streak of lightning, it burst through the inferno, its Spark slicing through the torrent of blue fire as it tore toward Queenie in a searing trail of light.

  Queenie cut off the flames as her claws flared with draconic energy. With no time to brace, she swung upward, Dragon Claw arcing to meet Luxio’s charge—

  —but it wasn’t there.

  Only an electric glow met her attack as the real Luxio reappeared at her flank in a blur of motion.

  Cynthia’s eyes widened—

  And that was all she managed.

  Before instinct could even tell her that shouting a warning was pointless, Luxio’s fangs shimmered an icy blue, cold mist spilling from its jaws as it lunged.

  Ice Fang.

  Luxio sank into Queenie’s fin, and for the first time since the battle began, Queenie roared in pain. The icy energy tore through her aura, frost crawling hungrily across her scales as she staggered back, thrashing in panic.

  Instinct seemed to override discipline.

  She didn’t counterattack, she couldn’t. Instead, Queenie tried to shake the Electric-type free, tail lashing wildly, the claws on her feet gouging deep furrows into the arena floor.

  Luxio refused to let go. It clamped down harder, jaws locking as its legs wrapped around her arm like a vice.

  Cynthia stared at her oldest partner, then lifted her gaze to Volkner. He wasn’t smiling, but she could still see the triumph glinting in his eyes.

  And at that sight, she couldn’t help it.

  Honestly, Myst was rubbing off on her.

  She smiled back.

  Queenie’s panic stopped dead.

  The moment Luxio fully committed, wrapping its forelegs around her arm to make sure she couldn’t escape, was the moment Queenie went utterly still. The frantic thrashing ceased. Her eyes narrowed.

  Once again only cool majesty remained.

  Volkner’s eyes widened, his mouth snapping open—

  Queenie’s entire body erupted with light-brown energy, the air around her rippling from the sudden surge of Ground-type power. Then, before Luxio could even process what was happening, her body shifted.

  With a roar that shook even the reinforced stone barrier, Queenie twisted her whole weight and slammed her trapped arm into the arena floor.

  Bulldoze.

  The ground didn’t just shake—it broke.

  A shockwave of earthen force exploded outward from the impact, hurling a wall of dust and shattered stone across the field. The air warped with pressure, the sound less a rumble and more a detonation.

  Luxio’s grip shattered instantly. With no mercy, the Electric-type was driven into the ground as rock and soil gave way beneath it, the arena buckling under the sheer force of the blow.

  Cynthia shielded her eyes with an arm, but as the dust slowly settled she saw what she had already expected. Queenie alone at the center of a smoking crater, sides heaving, one arm cradled against her chest, but—

  Luxio didn’t get up.

  —obviously victorious.

  The match ending three to one.

  …

  Two days after Myst vs Flint.

  Cynthia let out a long, exhausted sigh as she slumped against a broad slab of stone, tilting her head back to stare at the mountain ceiling above. Normally, this late at night, she’d be looking up at a sky full of stars, but here, deep inside Mt. Coronet, there was nothing but cold, unyielding rock.

  “It’s more complicated than that, okay,” she mumbled.

  Queenie responded with a low, drawn-out sigh of her own, glancing over at her with the kind of look that said far more than any words could.

  Cynthia pushed herself off the wall, brushing the dust from her hands.

  “What?”

  The dragon didn’t respond. She just stared at Cynthia for a long moment, then slowly lifted a single claw and pointed toward the far side of the training grounds.

  Cynthia followed the gesture, then turned back to Queenie, feeling her previous tiredness drain away and irritation take its place.

  “You think it’s so easy, don’t you? Well, have you considered that I might not even know what I want to say yet? I can’t just,” she made air quotes, “‘go talk to him’ when I’m still not sure what I even want.”

  For a single second that sentence hung in the air. Then, from somewhere off to the side, came a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

  Cynthia’s head snapped around, only to find Roselia once again sitting perfectly still, eyes closed in deep focus as he tried to channel Growth while simultaneously shaping his Grass-type energy. Training to actually utilize the boost it gave.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “You want to say something?”

  Roselia cracked a single eye open, pausing his training just long enough to give her a look that was, honestly, a little too similar to the one Queenie was currently sending her.

  Her face heated, a flush creeping up her neck as she looked away.

  “It’s complicated, okay.” She said stubbornly, before pausing for a second, and then continuing. “Also, I’m working on it.”

  Queenie let out a sigh.

  …

  Three days after Myst vs Flint.

  “Thinking of type energy as concepts—honestly, that’s pretty damn brilliant,” Flint said, leaning back on his heels.

  Myst shrugged.

  “We still don’t really know if it works for every Pokémon,” he admitted. “And even if it does, it’s only useful if they actually understand what they’re supposed to be picturing. Take Psychic-type energy, for example—most Pokémon would probably struggle with it, because it’s not something that really exists in the physical world. Hell, Rei couldn’t even figure out how she was supposed to conceptualize Steel-type energy at first. She’d never really encountered metal before, so the idea just… didn’t click.”

  Volkner nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

  “Honestly, I never really considered that type energy might work a little differently depending on the Pokémon,” Volkner admitted. “But when you say it out loud… it makes a lot of sense. When I train Luxio and Pikachu, they’re like two peas in a pod. If Luxio figures out a move first, Spark, for example, Pikachu almost always picks it up right after. But with Elekid? It’s completely different. Neither of them can teach him anything. Or, well, they can, but it takes a lot longer.”

  He glanced down at his belt, at the empty Poké Balls hanging there.

  “I always figured that was just a species thing, Pikachu and Luxio are pretty similar, while Elekid’s built totally differently. But… what if it’s not just that? What if it’s because they don’t see Electric-type energy the same way?”

  Cynthia tapped her fingers against the table, meeting Myst’s eyes for a split second before quickly looking away.

  They had talked about the concept method plenty of times while traveling. How to explain it to a Pokémon, how to guide them into shaping their type energy to mirror that idea, and how to figure out what their own concept of something was in the first place. But, in hindsight, they had never really discussed what would happen if two Pokémon had the same, or even just very similar, concepts, had they?

  Something like Queenie’s understanding of Fire, Life, and Rei’s concept, Devouring, were worlds apart, born from different instincts and experiences. But what about when two Pokémon aligned more closely?

  “Ehm, but that can’t be the whole explanation, right?” Flint cut in, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s a known thing that one of the biggest advantages of specializing is how much easier it is to teach moves and strategies across your whole team. You can practically copy-paste half the training. If, like you’re saying, it all comes down to their Pokémon sharing the same concept or whatever, sure—that might explain one or two cases on a team. Like, maybe that’s what’s happening with yours. But most trainers don’t run into that problem at all. And it can’t just be because every single Pokémon happens to share the same concept, right?

  He gestured between the three of them. “Think about it. Even just between us, if I say something like Oran Berry, we’re not all picturing the same thing. I might think delicious, but…” He waved a hand toward Cynthia and Myst. “Maybe you hate the taste. There’s no way a full team ends up with the exact same concept of a type energy. Even if one or two line up, the odds of six completely matching are basically zero.”

  Myst slowly held up a finger.

  “One, you’re a complete heathen if you think Oran Berries are delicious. And two…” He trailed off, his finger lowering slightly as he stared at Flint, like he’d just realized the teens argument was… actually pretty good.

  Flint grinned, leaning back with obvious satisfaction.

  “Hey. I might’ve lost to you, but I’m still pretty smart, you know.”

  Volkner shook his head. “He has his moments. But, still, even if it’s not an absolute thing, it might still be a factor.”

  “It probably is.” Cynthia jumped inn. She paused for a moment, waiting until she had their full attention before continuing. “None of you would really know, considering you probably don’t have much formal education on the topic, but there’s actually some research showing that certain Pokémon are just better teachers on a baseline level. Take move tutors, for example, they’re the perfect case.”

  Her teaching voice crept in as she spoke, and she sped up slightly. “There’s a lot of evidence suggesting that the Pokémon used as tutors have something fundamentally different about them. Trainers spend years trying to raise their own Pokémon into tutors, but even then, it’s mostly luck. What if part of the reason is that a move tutor’s concept is unusually universal, something simple and intuitive that’s easy for others to latch onto?”

  She gestured vaguely, as if sketching the idea on a board, words falling out in a single tumble. “Think about it. Trying to teach another Pokémon how to use Flamethrower when your concept of Fire is something like Devouring? Even if you don’t realize that’s how you think of it, your explanation would probably sound like complete nonsense to anyone who doesn’t share that perspective. It’d end up sounding something like, ‘let the fire consume itself until only the strongest part remains, then unleash it.’”

  She shook her head slightly, leaning forward as the thought carried her. “But if your concept is something simple—heat, for example— then the explanation becomes something anyone can follow: ‘condense the heat, then fire.’ Suddenly, the process is clear. It’s the same result, the same move, but one is an abstract metaphor and the other is a set of instructions.”

  Silence followed her explanation, and Cynthia drew in a slow breath, trying to steady herself as the rush of words finally caught up with her. She raised her eyes, and froze when she met Volkner and Flint’s wide, slightly stunned stares.

  Heat crept up her neck, and her still-raised hands shot down to the table as if burned, fingers curling against the wood.

  “Anyway. The point is, we shouldn’t discount there being a connection. We need to consider…”

  Flint and Volkner continued to stare, and she slowly closed her mouth.

  “What?” she asked after a moment, trying, and failing, to keep her voice even.

  Flint glanced sideways at Volkner, then scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck before offering her a sheepish smile.

  “Honestly? I don’t know why he’s staring,” he said, jerking a thumb toward Volkner, “but I was just… surprised by how into it you got. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s cool, I just kinda thought you didn’t like me that much. And, well… people don’t usually get that excited talking around someone they don’t like.”

  A beat.

  Well… she couldn’t say he was wrong. Flint had come a long way from the first impression he’d made four days ago, but she still wouldn’t call herself completely comfortable around him. After all, even now, she occasionally caught him staring when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

  Still, it wasn’t like she hated him. And, honestly, even if she had, she doubted it would have mattered right now. Once she got going on something like this, she always ended up swept along by it, no matter who was sitting across from her. Even if it had been Kael, she suspected she would’ve gotten just as carried away.

  Her gaze drifted toward Myst almost without thinking.

  She met his undivided attention.

  He was staring at her.

  Not with Flint’s forcefully polite curiosity, or Volkner’s distant, analytical focus.

  No, Myst’s gaze was softer. His smile didn’t contain the faint, reserved curve he usually wore, but instead the one that she only really saw when he was looking at his team.

  Or at her.

  She turned her gaze back to Flint, feeling herself flush.

  “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s more that…”

  The words stumbled on her tongue, slipping further away the harder she tried to force them out. For a moment she just couldn’t focus.

  Two days. Two days of circling around what she wanted to say, of rehearsing conversations in her head, of finding excuses to avoid him because she wasn’t ready yet. And now, finally, she was. After lunch, she was going to pull him aside and talk. No more delays. No more excuses. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to keep waiting.

  Flint tilted his head. “It’s more that?”

  And it wasn’t like she was worried about the conversation. Myst liked her. He respected her. He’d listen. He’d agree. And no matter how it went, they’d still be friends.

  Really, she wasn’t worried at all.

  She forcefully exhaled, focusing back onto Flint. “Your first impression sucked.” She stated bluntly, unable to figure out a way to soften it.

  Flint blinked. “Wait, really? I thought I was pretty—”

  Volkner’s hand landed on his shoulder with a dull thud. “Dude. It sucked. Drop it, okay?”

  Flint paused, then huffed out a laugh and shot Cynthia a quick, lopsided smile. “Fair enough.” He clapped his hands together, all bright enthusiasm again. “Well, I’m done with lunch! How about you guys? Also done? Great!”

  Before anyone could answer, he turned sharply toward Myst. “Hey, you got a minute? I was gonna ask before lunch, but, you know, battle and all that.” His grin widened. “Anyway, I was hoping we could talk about how you got your Buneary to chain attacks like that. I’ve been trying to get Monferno to go from Mach Punch straight into Fire Punch as an opener, but we just can’t get the speed down.”

  Cynthia blinked.

  Seriously, he was just going to—

  Wait.

  Wait—now?

  Her chest tightened, and she snapped a little too sharply over toward Myst, eyes wide.

  He looked at Flint, then at her, his brows furrowing just slightly. For a heartbeat, something uncertain flickered in his gaze, like he was trying to read what her look meant. And then, before she could even open her mouth and tell him, he looked away.

  “Alright,” he said simply, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. “Sure, Flint. Let’s go.”

  Cynthia wanted to say she called out to him. That she’d asked him to wait, or even just to talk later.

  But, well, she wasn’t the type to lie to herself.

  Her shoulders sank as she stared down at the table, words clinging uselessly to the back of her throat.

  She would talk to him today.

  …

  Four days after Myst vs Flint.

  Okay, this was no longer just her problem.

  She watched Myst from across the room as he laughed at something Flint or Volkner said, an easy, unguarded smile lighting up his face. It wasn’t that she minded him getting along with them, of course he was allowed to have friends, but the truth was, they hadn’t really spoken one-on-one in four days.

  Sure, part of that had been on her. She’d been the one dodging conversations at first, finding excuses to put it off.

  But now?

  Now she was pretty sure he was the one avoiding her.

  She narrowed her eyes as she took an aggressive bite of her sandwich.

  And it wasn’t like she was hurt by the fact he was avoiding her or anything. Of course not. But really, was it too much to ask for him to make a little time for something this important? After everything, after all the careful thought she’d put into what she wanted to say, the least he could do was be there long enough for her to actually say it.

  Was that so unreasonable?

  Because the longer this dragged on, the more it started to feel like maybe he didn’t want to hear it.

  “You know that glaring at him like that isn’t exactly going to make anything happen, right?” Johanna’s voice rang out from behind.

  Cynthia froze mid-bite, sandwich halfway to her mouth, before lowering it with deliberate slowness.

  “I wasn’t glaring,” she said flatly.

  Johanna gave her a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated as she slid onto the bench beside her. “Oh, absolutely. You were just… aggressively observing him while chewing like your lunch personally offended you.”

  Cynthia huffed and turned her gaze back toward Myst, who was busy trying to fight off Flint climbing onto him.

  “I wasn’t.” She stated again.

  Johanna hummed, propping her chin in her hands. “Mhm. And I’m not sitting here waiting for you to finally admit that you’re sulking.”

  “I’m not sulking.”

  “Right,” Johanna drawled. “You’re just sitting over here, not glaring, not sulking, and definitely not frustrated about how he seems to have been hanging more with his new friends than with you.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Cynthia turned toward her and tried not to glare. Most of the time, she didn’t mind Johanna, even when she teased her about Myst. But, if she was being honest, something about how relaxed she always seemed to be sort of grated.

  It was always like this. The things that tied her up in knots, that left her second-guessing every word before she said it, were things Johanna just… walked through without even noticing.

  Johanna’s smile softened slightly, and before Cynthia could react, she leaned gently into her side. “Really, it’s fine. I get it. First loves, they’re not always easy, you know?”

  Cynthia felt herself flush, almost instinctively shifting away, but… she didn’t.

  Biting her lip, she clenched her hands in her lap.

  “I… okay. Say I do like Myst,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the ground. “Why do you think he’s been avoiding me?”

  Johanna pulled back just enough to look at her properly, then reached out and poked her cheek with a teasing little jab. “He’s been avoiding you? Huh. That’s funny, because from the way things looked, I could’ve sworn you were the one avoiding him.”

  “I wasn’t… I mean, I—” She faltered, heat crawling up her neck. “Well, I was just… taking some time to think, you know? I…”

  Her voice trailed off, and she felt the flush creep all the way up to her ears.

  “You remember when we arrived, and you got held up in the showers?” she mumbled.

  Johanna paused mid-fidget, going very still. Then, with a kind of deliberate casualness that utterly failed to hide the spark of burning curiosity in her eyes, she tilted her head.

  “What about it?” she asked, the picture of forced nonchalance.

  Cynthia opened her mouth, then hesitated. The words stuck somewhere in her throat. She wasn’t good at talking about things like this. Feelings, relationships, anything even close to personal. Back home, she’d never really had anyone to talk to about them.

  She hadn’t had friends. Not real ones anyway.

  Some of that was her fault, and she could admit that now. She’d been too caught up in her own world, too stubborn about doing things her way, too unwilling to compromise.

  But at the same time… it had also just been a matter of circumstance. Between taking care of Lily, babysitting for extra money, training with Queenie and Beauty, and trying to shoulder as much responsibility as she could to help her grandmother, there had simply never been time.

  Forcefully, she pushed forward anyway, even as her entire body burned with embarrassment.

  “I—Myst and I, we talked,” she said, the words tumbling out clumsily. “He was showing me his drawings, and I… I ended up sitting next to him.”

  Her fingers twisted together in her lap, and without meaning to she splayed one out. “Our hands were pretty close, and so we ended up… testing how big they were compared to each other.” Her voice grew smaller with each word. “And then… we sort of just… ended up holding hands.”

  She didn’t dare look at Johanna.

  “That’s what we were talking about when you walked in on us—to get Myst before his match with Flint.” Her heart was hammering now, words tumbling faster, less controlled. “And it… it sounded like he maybe, sort of, might have been about to—”

  She stopped herself, clenching her jaw shut before the sentence could escape.

  For what felt like a full minute, Johanna said nothing. The silence stretched until Cynthia finally, reluctantly, forced herself to look up—only to freeze.

  Johanna’s face was carefully blank, her eyes swirling as if caught between too many thoughts at once. One second, it looked like she wanted to smile. The next, like she might scream into a pillow.

  For some reason, the sight made Cynthia’s chest loosen just a little. The corner of her mouth tugged upward into a small, sheepish smile.

  “So,” she began softly, “I just… kind of want some advice.”

  Johanna blinked once. Twice. Then a couple of more times before she slowly turned to look at her.

  “Of course. Advice. That’s why I came here. Right.”

  Her voice was oddly flat, as if her brain had just broken and was still trying to reboot. She stared at Cynthia for a long, silent beat, then slowly turned her head toward Myst, a faint, almost pitying look crossing her face.

  “So, if I got this right,” she began slowly, “scaredy cat finally made a move, yeah?”

  Cynthia nodded.

  “And then you think he might’ve been a couple seconds away from confessing?”

  Another nod.

  “And then, after I interrupted that…” Johanna paused for emphasis, “…you avoided him for two days.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth, heat already creeping up her neck. “It wasn’t like that,” she said quickly. “I just… needed some time to figure things out, okay? I had to think.” She crossed her arms. “But now he’s avoiding me.”

  Johanna blinked at her. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then glanced between Myst and Cynthia like she was trying to process something far too obvious.

  “You know what?” she said finally, exhaling. “I don’t think I actually have that much advice. Just… talk to him, okay? There’s nothing else you can really do right now. And I promise you, whatever reason you think he might have for avoiding you—it’s not that.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to argue, but—

  “Cynthia. Johanna.”

  She jumped, snapping her head around to find Volkner standing there, his expression serious.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, glancing between them. “But I think you’re going to want to hear this. One of the rangers is back.”

  For a couple of seconds, she stared blankly at him.

  Then she blinked.

  Wait, had she completely forgotten about the fact they were stuck here?

  …

  Honestly, “forgotten” wasn’t the right word.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it at all, of course she had. But with everything else that had been going on, the problem had slowly slipped lower and lower on the totem pole of things she cared about. If a few more days passed without news, then she’d worry. But for now?

  She leaned a little closer to Myst, trying, and mostly failing, to ignore the faint, inexplicable awkwardness bubbling up in her chest.

  “See, I told you right? It’s going to solve itself.”

  Myst glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then, with deliberate theatrics—completely ignoring the fact they were in a huge crowd of trainers—he cleared his throat and adopted a mock-serious expression.

  “So, thus I solemnly swear,” he declared, pitching his voice in a terrible imitation of hers, “the rangers will stay for a couple of days. A couple. At the absolute, unequivocal maximum.”

  She glared.

  He didn’t even flinch. Without missing a beat, he lifted his wrist and stared intently at the watch that very obviously wasn’t there.

  “But… oh? What’s this? It’s been four days? Whaaaat. Is that… oh no, twice as much as the absolute and unequivocal maximum lim—”

  She jabbed him in the side before he could finish.

  “Shut.”

  He staggered in place, before sending her a small smile.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Still, before she could tell him how stupid he was being, movement rippled through the sea of people around them. The buzz of conversation died down as the crowd of trainers, shifted their attention toward the front of the crowded halfway house.

  A man had stepped up onto a roughly raised platform of stone, one probably shaped by a Rock-type, and was waiting for the impromptu plaza to fall silent before he spoke.

  “Thank you all for gathering here,” he began, his voice carrying easily over the restless murmur of the crowd. “My name is Ranger Clayton, and I am, as many of you have probably guessed, one of the rangers assigned to deal with the situation that’s blocking you guys from crossing the mountain. The one we’ve come to call the Grass Kingdom.”

  A ripple of hushed conversation spread through the assembled trainers at the name, but Clayton raised one hand. Without a single word, a sharp caw split the air as a Staraptor swooped overhead, releasing a sudden burst of wind that cut the noise to silence.

  “Many of you have been stuck here for days now, and I know the lack of information has been frustrating,” he continued once the murmurs had faded. “So, I’ll cut straight to the point: as of right now, we’re unable to resolve the situation.”

  Cynthia blinked.

  Wait what.

  The crowd erupted. Instantly discussions broke out as shouts and questions overlapped. Some trainers even surged closer to the platform, like they wanted to demand answers personally.

  They didn’t get far.

  Before anyone could come close enough to even brush the edge of the stone podium, a burst of red light flared beside Clayton. A Lickilicky materialized in their path with a heavy thud, planting itself like a living wall and cutting off their advance.

  “This is probably not what you wanted to hear,” Clayton said, his voice steady and unshaken by the chaos around him. “After all, many of you have already been delayed for weeks, and even with the food stock from the halfway house, your supplies are likely starting to run low. That’s exactly why I want to explain why this situation has proven so difficult to resolve. There are three main factors.”

  He held up three fingers.

  “First, the Pokémon inside the Kingdom have an overwhelming advantage in numbers. While many of you have likely ventured into the outer edges of the phenomenon, what most of you probably haven’t realized is that there’s been a constant influx of new Grass-types appearing. This is part of the reason the Kingdom continues to spread, why it’s growing larger, and why we kept underestimating the scale of this assignment. The good news is that this influx seems to have slowed down, though it hasn’t stopped completely.”

  One finger dropped.

  “Second, the power of Grass-types inside the Kingdom appears to be significantly higher than normal. The closest approximation we can make is that there’s a constant Grassy Terrain effect covering the entire area. This makes it extremely difficult to reach the heart of the Kingdom and take down the so-called ‘Majesty’, as the Pokémon within the have Grass-type attacks that are noticeably more powerful than normal. The silver lining is that this boost applies to all Pokémon, not just the natives. Our own Grass-type moves experience the same enhancements. Furthermore, any creature inside seem to benefit from increased stamina and healing.”

  Another finger lowered.

  “Still, if those were the only problems, we would’ve breached the inner sanctum two days ago and brought down the Majesty. But we couldn’t. And that brings us to the third, and most significant, issue. As far as we’ve been able to determine, there are twelve Pokémon who serve as the Majesty’s personal guards, with four staying inside the inner sanctum at all times. We’ve taken to calling them the Royal Guard, and they are far stronger than anything else we’ve encountered inside. They include species both native to Sinnoh and foreign ones, some of which we’ve never even seen before.”

  He paused, sweeping his gaze over the crowd. “And I’ll say this now, because I know trainers. While we strongly advise against entering the Grass Kingdom on your own, we won’t stop you if you choose to try. Just remember one thing.”

  Clayton’s voice dropped, quiet but razor-sharp.

  “The Royal Guard doesn’t come in a single species, but they do share one unmistakable trait. The first is that each is strong enough to take on an entire ranger team alone. The second? They all have bloodshot eyes. So if you come across a Pokémon with eyes like that…” He let the silence stretch for half a breath. “You run.”

  The words lingered in the air, heavy and absolute, before he finally allowed himself to relax slightly.

  “That being said, for those of you wondering what’s being done about the situation, we’ve called in a member of the Elite Four, and they will arrive as quickly as possible. Once they’re here, we expect the problem to be resolved within a day or two.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Any questions?”

  Cynthia stared up at the ranger from where she stood in the crowd, her brow furrowing slightly.

  Normally, she would’ve focused on the fact that she’d been completely wrong in her earlier assumptions. But something else about the way he’d spoken caught her attention first.

  If an Elite Four member could solve the situation in a day or two, she had no problem waiting. And, if she had no problem waiting, then she was pretty sure most of the people who had waited for weeks would probably not have a problem waiting either. But then why had he gone out of his way to warn people about attempting the crossing themselves? Why even bother mentioning it if help was just around the corner?

  Her hand shot up before she could think twice.

  Clayton noticed her immediately. Ignoring the dozens of people shouting questions all at once, he pointed toward her and raised his other hand. His Staraptor screeched sharply overhead, a gust of wind rolling over the plaza and silencing the noise almost instantly.

  “Yes, you there? Blond girl in black.”

  “You said the Elite Four is on their way?” Cynthia asked, forcing her voice to stay calm and even. “When are they expected to arrive?”

  Clayton hesitated. For a moment he just looked at her, then sighed, the sound heavy and weary.

  “While we can’t be completely certain,” he said at last, “it’s likely the earliest they’ll be able to arrive will be about two weeks from now. Most of the Elite Four are currently outside the region, and with the Gym season in full swing, the Leaders can’t leave their posts.”

  For a heartbeat, the plaza was utterly still. The words seemed to hang in the cold mountain air, sinking in piece by piece.

  Two weeks.

  Two whole weeks.

  Then, before anyone could truly react, Myst’s hand closed around her wrist.

  She blinked and turned to him, startled, but he didn’t say a word, just tugged her firmly out of the mass of people.

  “Wait, I still have—” she started, twisting slightly to glance back toward the platform.

  The crowd exploded.

  Dozens of voices rose at once. Questions and protests crashed over each other until they became an indistinguishable roar. Trainers surged forward toward the ranger, some shouting demands, others simply shouting.

  Myst didn’t stop. He just kept walking, his grip steady, pulling her free of the chaos before it could swallow them whole.

  Cynthia swallowed the rest of her words.

  …

  She stared down into Johanna’s stew, watching steam curl lazily off the surface, and for the first time since they’d started traveling together, the smell didn’t stir her usual appetite.

  She lifted her gaze slowly, scanning the little group gathered around the table. Volkner was absently stirring his own bowl, brow furrowed deep in thought. Flint sat beside him, unusually quiet, a faint crease between his eyebrows that made it look like he was actually thinking for once.

  Cynthia parted her lips, then closed them again, unsure what to even say. In the end, she realized she felt much the same as they did.

  They were already behind where they were supposed to be in the Gym circuit, and now they were supposed to sit here, waiting, doing nothing? Sure, they could train, but—

  She didn’t get the chance to finish the thought.

  “Damn,” came Myst’s voice, sounding casual as always, as he slid into the empty seat beside her. “I walk away for one second to help Johanna clean up, and I come back to a massacre?”

  “Yeah, I don’t think this is what my mom meant when she said this stew was to die for,” Johanna quipped, dropping into the seat on Cynthia’s other side.

  Flint just let out a long sigh.

  “You know it’s not about that. The stew’s great, but two more weeks? We were already behind, and now we’re going to end up more than a month off schedule. At that point, are we even going to finish the Gym circuit before the season ends? We’re all sitting on two badges, and there’s only—”

  “Oh, woe is me,” Johanna cut in, voice dripping with mock despair. “There’s only a whole eight months left in the season. However, will you survive? Only two gyms in the first two months? It’s over. Caput. Might as well pack up and go home now.”

  Beside Flint, Volkner’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re taking things out of context. Flint and I need to do well. If we haven’t completed five, or better yet six, Gyms in the first five months, our chances of landing a sponsorship plummet. And we are going to need that money if we want to continue as trainers after the circuit is over. It’s not like I’m getting anything from the orphanage, or Flint from his backwater village, after all.”

  Johanna blinked, then sighed, the teasing edge fading from her tone. “Okay, fair. I can see that. But all I’m saying is that your pace isn’t normal to begin with. Most trainers only have one or two badges in the first couple of months. And honestly? Even if you get stuck here for a bit, nothing’s stopping you from picking up the pace later. You’re both talented. It’s not like you won’t be strong enough to challenge a fifth Gym in five months— not unless you stop training entirely.”

  “You don’t get it,” Cynthia said, shaking her head. “It’s not just about hitting the fifth Gym in five months, it’s about building hype. All those magazines and talk shows about the circuit? They mostly feature people based on how fast they’re moving. Early on, sure, doing a clean sweep is enough to get noticed, but later? Speed’s almost all that matters. Getting your name in the public eye is what attracts sponsors.”

  Johanna crossed her arms and pouted slightly. “I was just saying, okay? And honestly, I think you’re overestimating how much speed really matters. Just be strong enough and sponsors will come. I didn’t get mine by being the fastest to collect a certain number of ribbons—I got them because I was so much better than what I should’ve been.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth to argue, and saw Volkner do the same, but before either of them could get a word out, Myst cut in.

  “Ehm, what are you guys even arguing about? I thought it was obvious this wasn’t going to be a problem.”

  Johanna turned to him with a thankful smile—

  “After all,” he continued, completely oblivious to the look he was getting, “it’s not like we’re really going to wait, right? The ranger basically begged us to try getting through on our own. I figured it was pretty obvious we were going to at least try.”

  The table fell silent.

  Johanna’s smile froze, then faded completely as her brows knit together. “What are you talking ab—”

  “Hell yeah!” Flint’s shout cracked through her words as he slammed his hands on the table hard enough to rattle the bowls. “I was thinking the exact same thing!”

  Johanna whipped toward him, but before she could even open her mouth, Volkner spoke up as well.

  “Honestly? I also kind of assumed we were going to take a crack at it,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “When we checked out the area, most of the Pokémon we ran into didn’t look that strong. Sure, they’re aggressive, but if we plan a route and skirt the main zone, we might be able to slip through without fighting too many of them. If nothing else, it’s worth a try.”

  Johanna’s mouth fell open. She turned back and forth between the three of them like she wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard correctly.

  Then, slowly, her face twisted sideways, gaze settling on Cynthia.

  Cynthia offered a small, sheepish smile, and at the sight, Johanna just let out a sigh.

  “Well, I guess we’re doing that,” she muttered, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Honestly, I should’ve seen it coming. I don’t know why I even bothered hoping for common sense. Really, how could I forget I’m traveling with two overachieving idiots.”

  …

  She was never very good at packing.

  Not just in the literal sense—she had a terrible habit of just shoving everything into her bag—but in the broader sense as well. Ever since she was a child, she’d always struggled to figure out what she actually needed to bring. And, well, that clearly hadn’t changed, the trip across Cycling Road had proven that much. Years of planning, only for her to instantly forget she’d need a proper rain jacket after the one she had packed washed away back in Eterna Forest.

  Not that she could’ve learned it anywhere, really. For all her grandmother’s claims that this was some affliction her father had brought into the family, Cynthia had seen her pack. Seen, with her own eyes, how the woman traveled with an army of Chimecho hauling a mountain of bags.

  So, sure. Maybe Cynthia brought too little. But her grandmother? Way too much.

  With one last push, she forced the bundle of clothes deeper into her bag, then glanced toward her ever-faithful assistant.

  She paused.

  The ever-faithful assistant who, apparently, wasn’t there.

  A weary sigh escaped her lips as she turned her gaze toward the not-so-faithful assistant lounging a few feet away.

  “Where did he go?”

  Queenie merely looked back at her, scoffed, and raised a single, unimpressed claw in answer.

  A heartbeat later, Riolu came sprinting over, skidding to a halt at her side. He took one look at the chaotic sprawl of belongings threatening to spill from her pack and released a long, suffering sigh of his own. The kind reserved for someone who had cleaned up this particular mess far too many times before.

  Cynthia met his gaze without a shred of guilt as his shoulders slumped. Then, resigned to his fate, he climbed into the backpack and began rearranging the mess into a much tighter, and at least slightly more functional, clump.

  So, with that situation clearly being handled, Cynthia let her eyes drift across their little campsite.

  It felt a bit strange to be leaving, especially since she hadn’t planned on staying this long in the first place.

  When Flint had first shown them the spot, she’d half expected it to get obliterated by a stray attack from one of the nearby arenas. But in the end, he’d been right. The clearing was tucked just far enough out of the way to remain untouched. And, maybe more importantly than their tents surviving, it had stayed blissfully empty. Compared to the crowded chaos around the halfway house, this place felt almost secluded, like a quiet pocket of calm carved out from the noise.

  “You done packing?” Johanna’s voice called from behind her.

  Cynthia paused, carefully avoided looking at her bag, and turned around to nod. “Pretty much, yeah. At least I’ve got most of my clothes packed away. Everything else I can just throw on top.”

  Johanna’s eyes flicked toward the bag, and she shook her head just as a Riolu-shaped lump thudded against the fabric from inside.

  “…Sure,” Johanna said dryly. “Anyway, I was going to find a few old friends to say goodbye, and I figured I might as well swing by Volkner and Flint’s place too while I’m at it. You know, so we actually have a plan for when we’re leaving—since we completely forgot to do that before they ran off.”

  Cynthia tilted her head.

  “Didn’t we agree on—”

  Johanna cut her off before she could finish. “Anyway, the point is that I’ll probably be gone for a couple of hours. So you’ve got plenty of time. Try to use it for something productive, okay?”

  Cynthia blinked, but before she could even process what had just happened, Johanna had already turned on her heel and started walking away. Just before she slipped out of earshot though, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.

  “And really, remember what I said, okay? Just talk. It’s not going to get any easier if you keep waiting.”

  A bitter smile tugged at her lips as she turned back around and continued down the path.

  “I mean, I’m speaking from experience, after all.”

  For a few moments, Cynthia simply stared after her, watching until Johanna’s figure disappeared between the rocks. Then she drew in a slow breath and curled her fingers into a fist.

  Spinning on her heel, she strode across the campsite, weaving between their tents until she came to a stop behind the only other person still there.

  Myst was crouched over a flat rock, one of his T-shirts spread across it as he carefully folded it before placing it neatly onto the growing pile of clothes beside him. Next to him sat Rei and Navi, both in what Cynthia had tentatively started calling the Medicham position, a posture Myst had them practice to calm them down after training and stretching.

  Of course, every time he made them do it this late—

  A soft, synchronized sigh escaped both Navi and Rei as they wobbled where they sat, teetering closer and closer to toppling over.

  —it usually ended with them falling asleep.

  Cynthia suppressed the smile tugging at her lips and focused her attention back on Myst.

  She couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

  No matter how cute his Pokémon could be.

  Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her mouth and forced the words out.

  “We need to talk.”

  Myst froze mid-fold. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, eyes fixed on the white T-shirt in his hands, before lowering it back down onto the stone.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” he said at last, his voice light as a feather.

  Then, without missing a beat, he resumed folding. Steady and deliberate, aligning every edge with practiced care before placing the shirt neatly atop the others.

  Cynthia licked her lips.

  “The last couple of days… why have you been avoiding me?”

  Myst gave the stack a final pat before straightening to his full height. A small smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

  “What do you mean? When have we even been apart lately? Like, from what I can remember—”

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes, cutting him off.

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  He paused again, a small crack forming in his expression as his smile slipped away. “Then what do you mean, Cynthia? Because from my perspective, it feels like you were the one avoiding me, no?”

  Her hands clenched at her sides again. “That’s not—”

  She cut herself off, because… he wasn’t entirely wrong. She had been the one avoiding him at first.

  It was just—she’d needed that time.

  Looking away, she bit her lip.

  This… this wasn’t how she’d imagined the conversation going. Why did it have to be so hard?

  She took a step back.

  Then another.

  And then she turned.

  She just wanted to—

  Myst’s hand closed gently around hers before she could take yet another step.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, okay? It was my fault. I was just… I don’t know. I just wanted to give you space. You wanted to talk right? Well, I’m ready.”

  Cynthia didn’t pull away, even as his grip burned against her wrist. Instead, she turned back and looked at him.

  He was slouching, lowering his head until he was almost at her height. He did that a lot when he was around her. She’d always assumed it was just bad posture or something, but after watching him with Flint and Volkner? With them his back was ramrod straight, as if he needed to stand taller than them, even though he probably had a good ten centimeters on both already.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  The smile he’d managed to plaster on his face dimmed slightly, and he let go of her hand.

  She stared at him for a couple of seconds, and forced herself not to bite her lip.

  Why, exactly, was this so freaking hard?

  It wasn’t like she should be worried. She’d thought about this, a lot. She’d figured out what she wanted to say. Planned for the variables. Rehearsed how she should act no matter what he said. She had it all planned out.

  So why couldn’t she just—

  “I like you, Cynthia.”

  Her thoughts froze.

  “I think you probably figured that out, right? I mean… I haven’t really been hiding it lately.”

  He moved his hand, and her eyes widened as his fingers brushed past her cheek to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Oh…” The word slipped out before she could stop it. “When… you said lately… when did it start?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “I think… maybe back when we found Navi? Or maybe when you looked like you were about to try and fight Lopunny?” He shrugged. “Honestly, maybe it was just from the start.”

  She watched as his eyes drifted over her face.

  “It shouldn’t be a surprise, though. I mean… how could I not?”

  She watched as his smile faltered slightly.

  “Still, I never really planned on doing anything about it, you know?”

  And she watched as he just kept talking.

  “I figured there was no way it would work out anyway. I didn’t feel… complete enough to try. I’m a mess. My memories, my insecurities… all of it. I just didn’t feel like I should do anything. Not when I’m like this.”

  Why was it always like this?

  Why did it always devolve into him talking himself raw and her just standing there?

  She tried to open her mouth, but his eyes caught hers, ice-crystal blue and yet somehow still as warm as a summer day, and her voice simply vanished.

  “It didn’t really work out.”

  Stop.

  He grinned, dimples flashing.

  “So, honestly, even if you say that you need time. Even if you say that you want to focus on training and the circuit or whatever else, I don’t think I can stop liking you. You’re too cool. Too smart. Too… everything.”

  Stop.

  “And I know that might not be exactly what you wanted to hear, but I mean… I can’t exactly change how I feel.”

  Why did he always, always, always do this?

  Why couldn’t he just—

  “And if you think it’s going to make things weird between us, I get it. Or if you decide you don’t want to travel with me anymore, I get that too.”

  Stop.

  “And if you’re mad that I’m dumping all this on you now, right before we’re supposed to leave, yeah, I get that too.”

  Fucking.

  “I just… I don’t know.”

  Talking.

  “I guess I’m saying I’ll deal with whatever you decide, because I can’t seem to—”

  She kissed him.

  He stopped.

  Slowly, she pulled back, dropping from her tiptoes as she stared up at him.

  Myst stared blankly at her, lips still parted, eyes wide and unfocused.

  “What have I said about talking down to yourself?” she asked softly. “About being negative all the time?”

  His mouth opened slowly, his gaze still fixed on hers.

  “Not to do it,” he murmured.

  She nodded once, then rose back up on her toes to press another quick kiss to his lips.

  “Good.” She stated.

  He nodded back, dazed.

  “Great.” He replied.

  Her face felt like it was on fire. Every nerve in her body burned, buzzing under her skin. And yet, for some reason, some part of her still managed to smile as she stared up at Myst’s dumb, wonderful, infuriating face.

  “And, if it wasn’t already obvious…” she said, her voice firmer than she felt, “I do like you too. So I want to try this whole girl—”

  She stumbled, the word catching in her throat as the weight of what she was saying crashed into her. Her heart pounded like a drum against her ribs, breath catching—but still, she couldn’t stop.

  She didn’t want to.

  “So I want to try this whole girlfriend thing.”

  She hesitated, then quickly blurted, “With you.”

  A beat.

  “As… my boyfriend.”

  Myst reacted slowly.

  For a moment, it was like he couldn’t quite process what she’d just said. He just stood there, blinking at her. But then, carefully, he stepped closer, close enough that the space between them nearly vanished. One arm lifted, hesitant but steady, and his fingertips brushed her cheek again.

  For a few heartbeats they simply stood there, eyes locked, breath mingling, his fingers tracing lightly along her skin.

  And then, somehow, impossibly, his dumb grin managed to get even dumber.

  “You know,” he said softly, “I think I forgot to mention something.”

  Cynthia stared into his eyes, feeling a small smile break across her face.

  “What?”

  He leaned down slightly.

  “Another reason I like you.”

  He tilted his face.

  “You’re so freaking pretty.”

  He kissed her back softly.

  please don't drag out the romance too much, considering this thing was written and already shown to some unspecified people back then. So, if poeple haven't understood it yet: