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I'm in trouble.
Steven pushed open the front door.
Cynthia was sitting upright on the sofa, back toward him, spine straight, hands folded in her lap. She had not turned around.
Beside her, Garchomp lay sprawled on the floor, head propped on one arm, watching the room with the expression of someone who had bought tickets to a show and was getting exactly what they had paid for.
Yesterday — absolute agony. Today — this is wonderful.
"Uh… Cynthia." Steven kept his voice level with some effort, though his steps across the room were noticeably small. "You're up early."
Cynthia tilted her head slightly toward the clock on the wall.
It was past noon.
"I thought you went to bed late," Steven continued, "so I didn't want to wake you when I left." He moved to the sofa and sat carefully beside her, watching her face. "I was planning to take a short walk. Then I came across a Pokémon worth catching — it took a while."
"Oh," Cynthia said.
Her expression was perfectly calm. She did not move away.
Steven exhaled very quietly.
Garchomp's eye twitched.
That's not right. She's supposed to pull away. That's what comes next. Did I read this wrong?
Wait — Blue-Haired Trainer. Where do you think you're putting your hand.
"Cynthia," Steven said, placing one hand carefully at her waist, "is everything alright?"
She didn't resist. Steven's nerves settled slightly.
"I'm fine," Cynthia said. Her eyes shifted to him, calm and even. "I just thought you might kiss me and then pretend it never happened, and quietly vanish somewhere."
"That's…" Steven gave a short, rueful laugh. "Wasn't I just in the cave? And didn't I promise to be the only Champion in your heart?"
Cynthia's expression was unreadable, though not unkind.
"How long were you waiting?" Steven asked, bracing himself. He had been gone just over four hours. If she said three of those had been spent sitting here —
Cynthia glanced at the clock.
"Sixteen minutes and thirteen seconds." A brief pause. "Fourteen."
Steven blinked. "But I'm already back."
"Yes," Cynthia said simply.
He didn't have a response to that. The count continued regardless. He supposed he deserved it.
Cynthia took a breath, held it, and let it go.
They were both new to this. Neither of them had much experience to draw on. Steven's composure swung between remarkably steady and entirely absent, and there was no predicting which version would show up. She had already decided this was something she found more endearing than frustrating — but it didn't mean she wouldn't say so.
"Next time you go somewhere," she said, turning to look at him directly, her lower lip caught slightly between her teeth, "will you tell me first?"
Her eyes were a little red at the corners.
"Yes. Of course." Steven nodded immediately, his hand already rising toward her face.
The expression vanished.
Cynthia straightened up with a bright, composed smile. "Good. I'll hold you to that."
Steven's hand stopped in mid-air.
He lowered it.
When did she get so good at that?
Garchomp stared at the ceiling.
This is not how it was supposed to go. None of this is how it was supposed to go.
...I must still be asleep. This is a bad dream. It'll be over soon.
It turned its head and found itself looking directly at Metagross, who had been standing at the doorway the entire time without moving.
Metagross blinked once.
Garchomp made a sound low in its throat and looked away.
Of course. Even in the nightmare, the iron cross-spider shows up.
Metagross, for its part, had assessed the scene upon arrival and reached the same conclusion it usually did in these situations: its presence was neither required nor particularly welcome in the current frame. It stood where it was. And, with quiet precision, used Psychic to ease the front door closed behind it.
"I'm hungry."
Cynthia rested one hand on her stomach and looked at Steven with patient, wide eyes.
"Can you really let me sit here hungry?"
Steven was already on his feet. "I'll start now." He paused long enough to rest his hand briefly on her head, then turned toward the kitchen.
The refrigerator had enough left from yesterday's groceries — vegetables, a decent cut of meat. A simple meal. Neither of them ate very much; Steven in particular had the habit of eating more rice than anything else and picking at side dishes in small, precise amounts. There was no sense in cooking more than they needed.
He got to work.
In the living room, Metagross made no move to leave.
Should I just return to my Poké Ball? it thought, calculating.
"Metagross." Cynthia turned and beckoned. "Come here."
"Metagross?"
It walked over, cautious, and stood beside her.
Cynthia reached out and stroked the smooth metal above its eyes — a slow, unhurried gesture.
"Did you read through the book I gave you?"
"Metagross?"
Which one? The mythology volume, or the romance novel?
"I'll give you more to work through later," Cynthia said pleasantly. "I have a feeling I'll be needing your help."
She had been told — by Steven, more than once — that Metagross was exceptional. It read, it wrote, it reasoned at a level that went well beyond what she had seen from other Pokémon of the same species. If it was also studying mythology, it would be a genuinely rare thing. She had never encountered a Metagross quite like this one.
Metagross gave a small, dignified nod.
Leave it to me. The relationship will proceed smoothly. I will see to it personally.
"Good." Cynthia smiled and patted its head. "Well done."
The two of them were, as usual, thinking about entirely different things.
Lunch was late by any standard measure, but no one commented on it.
Afterward, Steven released all his Pokémon onto the beach. The afternoon was warm and open — those who wanted to train could train, those who wanted to explore could explore. The only rules were the usual ones: no significant damage to the surrounding environment, no unprovoked attacks on wild Pokémon.
"Is this the one you caught this morning?" Cynthia crouched slightly, looking at the Alolan Sandslash standing in the sand. She reached out and pressed a finger lightly against one of the ice spines along its back.
"Gupah…"
The Sandslash was still. It had assessed the situation the moment it was released — two Trainers, clearly familiar with each other, clearly more than that. It had no reason to be guarded around her. It stood quietly and let her look.
"Isn't it something?" Steven put his hands on his hips, satisfaction plain in his voice. He was, privately, quite pleased with himself for checking the local Alola news the night before. A fortunate coincidence.
"Very impressive," Cynthia agreed, and she meant it.
"And then there's this." Steven reached into his pocket and produced the pale blue rhombus-shaped stone the Sandslash had given him — smooth-edged, semi-translucent, catching the afternoon light along its facets.
Cynthia took it carefully, turning it over in her palm.
The shape was precise. The colour was unmistakable. She knew what she was looking at.
"Steven," she said quietly.
"Mm?"
"If I'm not mistaken…" She held it up so the light passed through it.
"This is an Ice Z-Crystal."