The stairs in the Ketchum house had a particular creak on the third step from the bottom. Cynthia had learned this on her first visit. She stepped over it without thinking about it.
Behind her, Ash stepped directly on it.
It creaked.
She did not turn around.
The kitchen was already full. Five girls at or near the table, plates being passed, Delia moving between the stove and the counter with the particular efficiency of someone who has cooked for large groups many times and finds it genuinely enjoyable. The room smelled like coffee and bacon and the slightly sweet warmth of pancake batter.
And beside the counter, medical kit at her feet, pink hair in a neat ponytail: Lina, who had apparently arrived early for coffee and whose eyes moved to Ash's head the moment he appeared in the doorway.
"There he is," Delia said, without turning from the stove. "Ash. What did you do to your head?"
Five faces turned. Serena's hand paused over her coffee cup. Misty squinted. May made a small concerned sound. Dawn's eyes went wide. Green looked up from whatever she was reading and assessed the situation in about two seconds.
"Gible," Ash said, sitting down in his usual chair with the specific energy of someone who has accepted something.
A beat.
"Gible," Misty repeated.
"Gible," Ash confirmed.
Everyone looked at Gible, who had followed them downstairs and was now sitting on the kitchen floor looking between Ash and Cynthia with a tilted head and total innocence.
"It bit him," Cynthia said, taking her seat.
"On the head," Ash added.
"It was asked to wake him," Cynthia continued. "The method was not specified."
"By who?" Serena said, slowly.
Cynthia folded her hands on the table. "By me."
The kitchen was briefly very quiet.
Then Green said, "You used a three-day-old Land Shark Pokémon as an alarm clock."
"It was effective," Cynthia said.
"It bit him," Green said.
"He's awake, isn't he."
Ash looked at the ceiling.
Lina crossed to him with her kit, tilted his head toward the window light without ceremony, and examined the wound with a small torch. "Clean punctures," she said. "Shallow. You'll be fine in a few days."
"Days," Ash said.
"Minor wounds heal at their own pace." She reached for antiseptic. "Hold still."
He hissed. She ignored this, applied the antiseptic with the calm of long practice, and reached for a bandage.
"There," she said, pressing it into place. "Done."
"Thank you," Ash said, with sincerity.
"Any time." She returned to her coffee. "Though ideally not weekly."
Gible, sensing that the mood had shifted to something more manageable, shuffled forward and attempted to rest its chin on Ash's knee. It looked up at him with enormous, earnest eyes.
Ash looked down at it.
"I know," he said. "You were just doing your job."
"Gib," Gible said, with great relief.
He scratched its chin. It leaned into this so hard it nearly fell over.
Cynthia, across the table, watched the two of them and said nothing. She picked up her coffee.
'Three days,' she thought. 'It already has him completely.'
It was May who said it. She had finished her first pancake and had reached the part of the morning where she thought about what she wanted to do with the day.
"We should go to Celadon," she said. "The Department Store. There's a sale."
"Yes," Dawn said, immediately.
"I need new running shoes," Misty said.
"There's an accessories shop I've been wanting to try," Serena added.
Green did not look up. "I need books."
Which was, from Green, a full and enthusiastic yes.
Serena turned to Cynthia. "Will you come?"
Cynthia had research. Garchomp's training schedule. Correspondence that had been waiting since yesterday. She had a week here and had already spent the morning in a forest nearly getting flattened by a Sandslash and then watching a battle that shouldn't have been possible.
She looked at the table. At Serena's warm, genuinely inviting expression. At May already mentally planning the route. At Dawn who would clearly be delighted. At Misty who was pretending not to care either way. At Green who was pretending harder.
"Yes," she said. "Alright."
May beamed.
"What about me," Green said, in a tone of studied indifference, setting down her reading. "You weren't planning to leave me here."
"We assumed you'd say no," Misty said.
"I'm not saying no." Green stood, collected her cup. "Someone has to prevent catastrophic fashion decisions."
"That's the spirit," Serena said, already on her phone. "I'll message Daisy."
Delia turned from the stove with the particular expression of a woman who has been waiting for exactly this moment.
"And Ash," she said.
He looked up.
"You should go too."
Every face at the table turned toward him. Serena's hopeful look. Misty's challenging one. May's immediate, enormous puppy eyes. Dawn's encouraging nod. Green watching with mild entertainment. Cynthia saying nothing, giving nothing away, just watching.
Ash looked at his mother.
She was very busy with the stove.
"I wasn't going to say no," he said.
"Of course not," Delia said.
"Obviously I was going to go."
"Obviously."
"I just — yes. Fine."
"Wonderful," Delia said, and flipped a pancake.
Lina snapped her medical kit shut with a clean click. "I'll come too," she said. "In case of emergencies."
"What emergencies," Ash said.
"Gible-related ones, primarily." She smiled. "It'll be fine."
X and Y had been conducting a patient, coordinated approach toward the bacon for several minutes. Y from the left, slow and deliberate. X from the right, faster and considerably less subtle.
Gible, still on the floor, had been watching this with the focused interest of a student observing a senior's technique.
"X," Ash said.
X froze.
"Y."
Y sat back down with dignity.
Gible turned to Ash.
Looked at the bacon.
Looked at Ash.
"Don't," Ash said.
Gible put its chin on the floor.
After three seconds, Ash handed it a piece of bacon.
Gible accepted it with perfect gravity, as though this had been the agreed arrangement from the start.
Cynthia looked at this over the rim of her coffee cup.
'Completely,' she thought. 'It has him completely.'
She did not examine why she found this so easy to watch.