"Oh, my bed!"
Cynthia let herself fall face-first onto the mattress the moment she entered the room, arms spread wide, coat half-hanging off one shoulder.
Steven leaned in the doorway, watching her with quiet amusement as she kicked the coat off entirely and burrowed into the quilt.
This was the first time he had properly set foot in Cynthia's room. He looked around once — books stacked on every surface, a few fossils on the windowsill — and then back at the girl currently doing her best impression of a Snorlax.
"Aren't you going to take a bath?" he asked.
"Mm~" came the muffled reply from somewhere inside the quilt.
"I'll run the water for you. How warm do you want it?"
There was a pause.
Then Cynthia shot upright, her face distinctly pink, and crossed the room in three steps to push him firmly back into the hallway.
"I can manage that myself!"
"Fair enough." Steven raised both hands in easy surrender and headed downstairs.
The backyard was quiet in the way a place could only be after a long and difficult day.
Cynthia's Pokémon were scattered across the grass in various states of exhausted rest — Milotic coiled loosely near the garden wall, Gastrodon settled into a low patch of earth, Spiritomb hovering in a slow, subdued orbit just above the ground.
Steven's own team were, by contrast, still training.
Metagross had been midway through a Calm Mind — eyes closed, hovering a few centimetres above the grass — when something at the edge of its awareness caught its attention. It opened its eyes.
Garchomp was lying on the lawn. Not resting. Not conserving energy. Just... lying there, staring at nothing, claws loosely dragging against the grass.
Metagross regarded this for a moment. Then it drifted over.
"Kree?"
Garchomp lifted its head, looked at Metagross with an expression that communicated absolutely nothing, then dropped its head back down.
"Metagross?"
This was strange. Usually, whenever Metagross approached, Garchomp would be on its feet within seconds — bristling, growling, looking for any excuse to start something. It had become something of a routine.
Metagross tilted its body slightly. "Metagross." — Are you all right?
The effect was immediate and dramatic.
Something in Garchomp cracked open.
"KRAAA!"
Tears. Actual tears. Streaming freely, with complete disregard for dignity.
Garchomp grabbed Metagross by both sides of its disc-shaped body and began shaking it back and forth with considerable force.
My Cynthia! She's been taken! She's really been taken! She went willingly! She's gone and she was happy about it! I don't know what to do with myself!
Metagross absorbed this, both literally and figuratively.
It had not expected this. In all the time it had been acquainted with this particular shark dragon, it had never once seen it cry. The shaking, certainly. The biting, occasionally. But not this.
It blinked its four red eyes.
Then, carefully, it extended one heavy metal arm and patted Garchomp on the back.
"Metagross." — It is fine. We are practically family now. Let us try to get along.
Garchomp went still.
Then it released Metagross, planted its feet, and launched it across the yard with a Dragon Tail before Metagross had any opportunity to brace.
"KRAAA!" — Don't talk to me about family! I'm going to go crack that silver-haired boy's skull right now!
Garchomp turned and took two full, purposeful strides toward the back door.
Then stopped.
Sat down heavily on the grass.
Metagross, having landed with a dull thump, straightened itself and floated back over without hurry. It had, frankly, seen this coming.
Garchomp dug one claw miserably into the dirt.
The problem — and it knew it — was that if it actually went and picked a fight with Steven, Cynthia would not be pleased. And the last thing it wanted right now was to disappoint her.
Thwap.
"KRAAA?!" — Who did that?!
Garchomp was on its feet in an instant, spinning around.
Empoleon stood a short distance away, one flipper raised in the most deliberately innocent manner imaginable. Its expression was stiff, as it usually was — the result of its natural armour-like face making most emotions look vaguely formal. But it waved with what it clearly intended to be a reassuring manner.
"Awoo!" — Come on. Look at yourself. You need to pull yourself together. This was a wake-up call. From a subordinate. For your benefit.
Metagross, floating nearby, looked at Empoleon.
Metagross had been around long enough to recognise a grudge disguised as advice. That hit had been intentional and at least partially about something else entirely.
"Kraaa?" — Explain yourself. Now.
"Awoo…" — If you think about it clearly, this is good for you! It gives you something to work toward! If you train harder, maybe one day you could even surpass — Empoleon glanced at Metagross — Big Brother Metagross. Imagine that.
Metagross looked at Empoleon.
It was not offended. It was simply very, very confident.
"KRAAA!"
Garchomp's entire body lit up with blue-violet energy — Dragon Rush building fast — and fixed Empoleon with a look that made the answer to "are we doing this" extremely clear.
Empoleon was already moving.
Ice Spinner — a thin sheet of ice spreading out beneath its feet — launched Empoleon sliding rapidly across the backyard. Behind it, roaring and trailing draconic energy, Garchomp gave chase.
"Awoo! Big Brother Metagross, help me!"
Metagross quietly produced a book from somewhere — no one had ever established exactly where — and opened it.
It did not have ears. It could not hear anything. Very unfortunate.
Skarmory looked up from its training as Empoleon shot past, then looked back as Garchomp followed half a second later. It watched them go, then returned to its wing exercises without comment.
Lucario, mid-spar with Scizor, spotted the two of them coming and stepped neatly to the side, pulling Scizor with it. It created just enough space for Empoleon and Garchomp to pass between them. Lucario watched them go, then looked at Scizor with the particular expression that meant I have questions but I'm not asking them.
"Lar?"
Larvitar, who had been working diligently on its training, paused to watch the chaos with wide eyes.
"KRAAA."
Aggron — who was currently consuming a piece of ore with the focused dedication of someone who had earned it — chewed once, swallowed, and addressed Larvitar without looking up. Pay them no attention. Keep going. I'll share a piece with you later. I'll ask the master for two more for myself. Don't mention that part.
"Lar!"
Larvitar nodded enthusiastically and resumed its work — which, for the past hour, had primarily consisted of enthusiastically thumping Aggron's back while Aggron pretended this was somehow beneficial and not just a way to get extra food out of Steven.
Honedge, which had been running through a series of precise blade exercises nearby, stopped mid-slash. It blinked its single eye at the scene unfolding across the backyard. Then it sheathed itself and continued watching with something that resembled polite confusion.
Steven came through the back door carrying a tray of food — bowls sorted by Pokémon, proportions carefully calculated, the sort of thing that came naturally after years of looking after a team through long training sessions.
He surveyed the yard.
Garchomp was pursuing Empoleon around the perimeter with active Dragon Rush. Metagross was reading. Aggron and Larvitar were making a great deal of noise in their corner. Honedge was floating in place, watching everything with its single eye as though composing a very thorough mental report on the day's events.
Steven crouched down and set two bowls in front of Milotic and Gastrodon.
"I didn't know Garchomp had this much energy left after everything today," he said, watching the chase with mild interest. "I'll give it extra later to help with recovery."
Two pairs of very different ears — one very large, one very small — both swivelled toward him at exactly the same moment.
Aggron and Larvitar looked at each other.
A silent agreement passed between them with the speed and efficiency of long practice.
"KRAAA!"
Aggron was on its feet, already striking a defensive stance.
"Lar!"
Larvitar dropped into a charge posture.
The sounds that followed — bang, bang, bang — rang out in rapid succession as the two of them threw themselves into the most spirited training session the backyard had seen all day, which was remarkable given what had been happening thirty seconds ago.
Steven watched this for a moment, then stood and continued distributing bowls.
"Togepi!"
Togepi, who had been sitting contentedly in the garden this entire time, suddenly clapped its small round hands together with great enthusiasm, as if it had decided to cheer for everyone and everything at once.
The sky above the yard shifted.
The white clouds, which had been scattered and ordinary, began to rotate. Slowly at first, then with increasing purpose, spiralling inward toward a central point. The temperature dropped. The wind picked up — leaves scattering, grass pressing flat.
Steven straightened slowly, tray still in hand, and looked up.
A golden light pulsed at the center of the clouds. Once, twice.
The pressure that descended from it settled across the yard like something ancient deciding to pay attention.
Steven's mouth opened.
He knew that feeling. He had studied Pokémon long enough to recognise something that should not be possible, and then to recognise what it might mean when it was.
He stared.
"...Oh my goodness."