"To be precise," Cynthia said, turning the stone carefully in her palm, "this is an Ice Z-Crystal."
"Icium Z," Steven confirmed, nodding. "It amplifies a Pokémon's move of the corresponding type and transforms it into a Z-Move — a single, powerful attack that can only be used once per battle."
Metagross, standing nearby, processed this information with quiet interest. It knew Ice Punch. It had always known Ice Punch.
Ice Punch — transformed into a Z-Move.
Metagross did not visibly react. But somewhere in its considerable processing capacity, something filed this away with great care.
Garchomp, resting in the shade a short distance away, picked up on the same detail.
For once, it had absolutely no objections.
"Can a Mega-Evolved Pokémon use a Z-Move?" Cynthia asked, looking up from the crystal with genuine curiosity.
"Theoretically — yes." Steven considered for a moment. "The Z-Crystal isn't held by the Pokémon itself, so there's no direct conflict with Mega Evolution. Whether or not anyone's actually done it in practice is another question." He shrugged. "The mechanics suggest it should be possible."
Cynthia turned the Icium Z over once more, then held it out to Steven.
"But you can't use it yet," he said, accepting it back. "Not without a Z-Ring."
"A Z-Ring?"
"It's a little like your lipstick case with the Key Stone built in — a wearable item that serves as the medium for the technique. But the Z-Ring is its own thing entirely; the Alola Region developed it independently." He pocketed the crystal. "Which is why I'd like to go back to Melemele Island tomorrow. Professor Kukui would know more about obtaining one than anyone else here. He's spent years studying Z-Moves specifically."
Cynthia nodded, a small, genuine smile crossing her face.
"Then we go back to Melemele Island tomorrow." She tilted her head. "I want a Z-Move too."
Steven smiled back.
He spent the better part of the next hour making introductions.
With Sandslash newly joined, Steven went around the group methodically — his own team first, then Cynthia's — giving each Pokémon a moment and letting Sandslash take them in at its own pace.
By the end of it, the Sandslash stood quietly on the sand looking somewhat dazed.
The sheer concentration of powerful Pokémon in one place was not something it had been prepared for. A few of the smaller ones were manageable — Honedge, Larvitar — but the rest were formidably above it.
Steven saw the expression and rested a hand on Sandslash's head.
"We're still on holiday," he said. "But when training resumes properly, you'll be part of it."
"Gupah…"
Sandslash nodded with what seemed like genuine relief. It had led a tribe. It had been a Totem Pokémon. The idea of being the weakest in a group was not comfortable — but having a clear path forward was.
It glanced sideways at Larvitar, who was sitting in the sand a few metres away, methodically patting wet sand into the shape of a small tower.
Sandslash walked over.
"Gupah."
That structure needs work. Let me show you.
Larvitar looked up at Sandslash, then across at Aggron and Empoleon, who were sparring lightly near the water's edge. It looked back at Sandslash.
It nodded.
Sandslash sat down in the sand and began to sculpt with its claws — quick, precise strokes that turned the loose pile into something more deliberate.
Steven watched this for a moment. "Larvitar eats the sandcastles after he's done building them," he noted. "And Sandslash builds ice structures for a living." He nodded, satisfied. "They'll get along perfectly."
Aggron and Empoleon's sparring was relaxed — more like sparring partners going through familiar patterns than any serious training session. The two had a long history. Empoleon had always made a point of bringing food to Aggron, back when they were young; Aggron had not forgotten. Some things were simply permanent.
Further down the beach, the two Lucario — Steven's and Cynthia's — had found each other. They were seated side by side in the shade, Aura flickering faintly around both of them in slow, contemplative pulses. After a while they began to exchange something — not words exactly, but the kind of quiet Aura-read that Lucario used between themselves. An extended conversation in a language that required no translation.
Scizor had taken it upon himself to work with Honedge.
The pairing made sense. Before its evolution, Scizor had been a Scyther — it had practical experience with blade-based techniques and understood the mechanics of edge control in a way that few others on the team did. Steven was quietly grateful for the initiative. If Empoleon had taken on the role instead, they would have spent the afternoon playing elaborate games with entirely different rules.
Skarmory, having trained for most of the previous day, had picked a good flat rock in the sun and stopped moving. This was also a legitimate choice.
Metagross had set its book aside and walked up to Garchomp.
It simply stood there.
That was all it did.
Within seconds, Garchomp's dorsal fin snapped upright and it launched into an attack with zero further provocation.
Sufficient, Metagross thought, catching the strike. As expected.
"Aren't you going in today?" Steven turned to Cynthia, who had come to stand beside him.
She was holding one hand flat above her eyes against the afternoon glare, watching the water.
"I'm a little tired from yesterday," she said. "Not today."
"That's unfortunate," Steven said, with exaggerated sincerity.
Cynthia glanced at him. "What is?"
"No swimsuit," he said simply.
"You—" She stopped. The tips of her ears went slightly pink. She turned back toward the water with a look that couldn't decide between indignant and amused, and settled somewhere in between. "You're incorrigible."
Steven would not have used the word incorrigible. He would have used the word appreciative. Beautiful things were worth a second look — stones, landscapes, rare mineral formations. He applied the same principle consistently. It seemed entirely reasonable to him.
"Besides," he added, "didn't you say you needed to wash the one from yesterday? I handed-washed it, for the record."
Cynthia said nothing for a moment.
She had, in fact, a second swimsuit. She had bought it on an impulse some months ago and never mentioned it to anyone. She had tried it on once, in private, looked at herself in the mirror for approximately one second, and changed back out of it immediately. It remained in the bottom of her bag.
"What exactly is wrong with being a love-struck fool?" she said instead, crossing her arms.
"Nothing at all," Steven said, entirely genuinely. "Sickeningly sweet, but nothing wrong with it."
"I am only like that in specific circumstances!" Cynthia turned on him with full indignation. "Under normal conditions I am completely clear-headed!"
"Of course," Steven said.
She glared at him.
He smiled.
"Come on," he said, catching her hand. "Let's find something else to do." He started toward the villa.
"Like what?"
"Come up and you'll see."
A series of sharp electronic sounds echoed from Steven's room.
"Steven — no, don't do that —"
"Cynthia, it's a bit late to ask for mercy now."
On screen, a Garchomp crumpled to the floor of the arena. The Lucario across from it raised both arms in a victory animation.
Cynthia dropped her controller onto the bed with more force than was strictly necessary and fell back against the pillows. "I'm done. You always do this."
The game was one of several Pokémon battle titles that had found a market in the region — the kind that featured humanoid Pokémon as playable characters in close-quarters combat. The roster included Lucario, Zoroark, Garchomp, Tyranitar, Aggron, and several others built along similar lines. Metagross was not available. This was a deliberate choice by the developers for reasons Steven declined to take personally.
"I'm still the best," he observed.
"I'm not speaking to you."
He let that sit for a moment.
"Would you rather try a dungeon-crawling game?" he offered.
Cynthia sat up immediately.
"Yes," she said, with great conviction.
Steven reached for the second controller.
The villa's entertainment setup was genuinely impressive — the kind that came with a property managed by people who understood what a well-appointed holiday residence should offer. Steven privately noted this was a credit to whoever had sold the place, and deserved to be acknowledged as such.
When they grew tired of the games, there was a screening room next door.
He started it up.
Cynthia, already somewhat restored in mood, settled back against the headboard with her arms crossed, watching the screen load with the air of someone who had decided to stop being annoyed and was now simply waiting to be entertained.