Compared to just two days ago, the arena felt practically deserted, and the faint echo of his footsteps on the rocky walkway only seemed to emphasized that. Even the small crowd that had gathered to watch him last time had vanished.

  Or, well, most of the crowd anyway.

  Myst’s gaze flicked upward. Cynthia and Johanna were already seated, ready to watch. Cynthia’s presence was expected, of course. But Johanna’s? Yeah, that one caught him off guard. He’d known she wanted to come, but with her Contest scheduled later today, he hadn’t actually expected her to show.

  Still, he couldn’t deny it felt a little bit nice.

  Lifting a hand, he gave a small wave. Johanna spotted it immediately, her smile bright as she waved back with cheerful energy. Cynthia offered a thumbs-up—then paused mid-motion, eyes darting to Johanna’s more enthusiastic gesture.

  Instantly she switched to her own wave.

  Myst smirked at the action, miming a confused expression as he rapidly switched between waving and giving a thumbs-up.

  Cynthia’s glare could have cut steel and he couldn’t help but laugh under his breath, warmth spearing through his chest.

  She really was just… such a doofus.

  Cynthia’s eyes narrowed even further, realizing she wasn’t being taken entirely seriously. She opened her mouth, clearly debating whether to escalate, only for the heavy door behind him to creak open with a groan of old hinges.

  Byron strode in, blinking against the harsh, industrial lights that flooded the stands. “Fuck, I knew I forgot something. Should’ve turned off those damn tribune lights.”

  Myst turned to glance at him, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I’ve actually wondered—why are they even that bright in the first place?”

  Byron froze, clearly caught off guard. “Well, uh…” His eyes drifted upward, as if hoping the ceiling would give him the answer. “You know, I don’t actually remember. Maybe they were cheap? Someone made the call when I wasn’t around, and after that…” He shrugged. “Getting proper ones just sounded like a lot of effort.”

  Myst shook his head, chuckling. “I guess you’re a busy man then, not even able to decide what lights your own Gym is getting.”

  Byron cracked a grin. “A married one, more like it. Thought I was busy before, but after the kid showed up?” He gave a low whistle. “I found out I didn’t know anything about busy.” A sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll find out eventually.”

  Myst’s face heated. Instinctively, his gaze flicked up to Cynthia. She was leaning forward slightly, clearly trying to read their lips from across the room. When their eyes met, she arched a single eyebrow in silent challenge.

  Byron laughed at the reaction, clapping Myst on the shoulder with a calloused hand. “Anyway. Enough of that. Let’s get this rolling. I don’t have a ton of time, still knee-deep in the mess those kids caused.”

  Myst blinked. “That’s still going on?”

  Byron began crossing the field, his boots crunching over the gritty floor with each step. “Oh yeah. The kids are definitely in for it with their parents, but that’s just the surface. The real mess is figuring out how it happened in the first place. The school was supposed to be supervising. The teacher was supposed to be watching. Now we’re stuck digging into where the system broke down, who knew what, whether proper warnings were given, all of it.” He exhaled heavily. “And to top it off, the mayor looks about ready to fistfight me over our disagreements about the Underground.”

  Myst raised a brow, but Byron didn’t slow down.

  “Honestly, the only reason I’ve got time to battle you today is because I’m more of a figurehead in the investigation. Symbolic presence and all that.”

  He reached the far end of the field and turned to face Myst fully, voice echoing slightly now in the wide chamber.

  Myst gave a small nod. “Makes sense. Still, thanks for making time.”

  Byron waved him off. “You helped save lives. Least I can do.” Then, more firmly, “But like I said, let’s not drag it out. I don’t have forever.”

  “Yeah, of course. Sorry,” Myst said quickly.

  Byron didn’t reply. Instead, he drew a Poké Ball from his belt and raised it high. With a flash of red light and a deep, metallic growl, Lairon emerged, its heavy, armored body hitting the ground with a resonant thud. Its iron plating gleamed under the unforgiving lights, eyes glinting like chips of steel.

  Myst studied the Pokémon silently, letting his eyes trace the shape of its frame and armor.

  Steel–Rock type. Middle evolution. Durable, powerful, built for close-range combat. A defensive tank, but vulnerable to type-energy-based attacks. Not fast, not graceful, but it didn’t need to be. It likely packed a standard arsenal: Steel and Rock moves, maybe a Ground-type or two mixed in. Nothing too unexpected. Its learnset was narrow, and for a third badge ace, it was unlikely it would have learnt too many non-standard moves.

  A solid anchor for a team at this level.

  Still.

  Rei would win.

  Fresh, in a strict one-on-one, she’d take it. Her speed, her moveset, the matchup itself, it was all tilted in her favour. Lairon might’ve been a wall, but walls only mattered if they could hit something. Byron could prep all the countermeasures he wanted, and probably had, but there were limits to how much you could patch over a disadvantage.

  So, if he sent out Rei, he would win.

  Myst let a hand fall to Navi’s Poke Ball.

  But that wasn’t why he wanted to fight Lairon.

  “Navi, let’s go!” he called, flicking his wrist as the ball burst open.

  The Psychic–Fairy type materialized in a soft shimmer of light.

  She took in the vast arena, the harsh lights, and finally the looming figure of Lairon.

  She paused.

  For a moment, she simply stared, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, her posture shifted, barely. Shoulders dipped, head lowered, and the gem-like horn on her head caught the overhead lights with a faint, crystalline glimmer as her eye colour shimmered towards a pale blue.

  It was so subtle that most people would have missed it.

  Byron didn’t.

  He grinned, tapping the side of his head twice with a finger, his silent message clear: I see you. I know what you’re up to.

  “Like planned?” Navi’s voice chimed faintly in Myst’s mind, soft and curious with its usual bright, almost childish undertone.

  Yeah, Myst thought back. Like planned.

  Across the field, Byron shook his head with an amused huff before raising his voice.

  “Well, we don’t have a judge today, didn’t think we’d need one, so I’ll play unofficial referee. Probably should’ve handed that off to one of your friends, but seeing as this is just an informal match, I’m guessing you don’t mind?”

  Myst shook his head. “Not at all.”

  Byron shot him a thumbs-up, then cleared his throat with dramatic flair. “This will be a—” He paused, considered it, then just snorted again. “Ah, forget it. Let’s just start at three.”

  Lairon narrowed its eyes from across the field.

  “One.”

  Myst exhaled, slow and stead, closing his eyes.

  “Two.”

  He opened them and—

  “Three.”

  Lets go.

  Navi raised a hand.

  A swirl of green energy flared to life around her, spiraling upward in a shimmer before bursting outward into dozens of razor-sharp leaves. They hovered for a heartbeat—then blurred forward, streaks of emerald light slicing through the air toward the Steel-type.

  Lairon didn’t have time to even take a step before it vanished behind the storm, the clang of each impact echoing like stone striking metal.

  “Lairon—Straight!” Byron barked.

  With a roar, the Steel-type surged forward—through the barrage.

  Each leaf struck home, sparking and shrieking across its armor, but Lairon didn’t slow. It powered forward on sheer momentum, turning a heavy jog into a full-on charge. Way faster than it had any right to be.

  Still not fast enough.

  Now, Myst thought.

  Navi moved instantly. With a conductor’s flick, she snapped her hand downward. The scattered leaves stilled midair, then twisted, converging into a spinning emerald spear.

  It rose. Twisted.

  —and dove.

  Lairon didn’t dodge. Didn’t see the need.

  Myst smiled.

  He hadn’t wanted it to.

  BOOM!

  The spear slammed into the ground just ahead of Lairon, blasting the arena floor apart. Stone shattered like brittle wood, shards flying, a trench ripping beneath the Steel-type’s pounding steps.

  Lairon tried to swerve, but the crater had already weakened the ground. One back leg punched through the fractured rock, dragging it sideways with a shriek of tearing stone and metal.

  Navi didn’t hesitate.

  She shut her eyes and drew her hands together.

  “Stop it!” Byron’s voice snapped out, but it should’ve been too late.

  Shadow Ball! Myst thought sharply, but Navi was already moving.

  Snapping both hands in front of herself, sickly purple light surged between them, warping into a ghostly orb. The energy pulsed, surged, and the move—

  Flickered.

  A beat passed.

  Too long.

  Even as the sphere finally solidified, Lairon had already heaved itself free and slammed its foot down.

  Rock Tomb.

  Two things happened at once.

  Stones burst from the ground, rocketing toward Navi like jagged missiles—

  —and Navi hurled the Shadow Ball.

  The attacks flew straight for eachother, rocks about to meet ghastly energy and then—

  Missed each other.

  They passed within inches of each other, narrowly missing a head-on collision. The Ghost-type attack tore toward Lairon. The stones crashed toward Navi.

  Her eyes flew open. For a heartbeat, she froze, still mid-cast.

  Then instinct kicked in. A burst of violet light warped the air around her, Teleport.

  Not fast enough.

  Myst had to strangle a wince as one of the stones cracked against Navi’s shoulder just a split second before she vanished in a warped flash of violet light. She reappeared mid-spin, her body twisting helplessly through the air. A strangled cry escaped her before she slammed into the dirt, skidding across the arena floor.

  But Lairon didn’t come out clean either.

  The Shadow Ball exploded across its armor, bypassing its physical defenses and detonating with a hollow boom. Lairon’s legs buckled, its roar cut short as it sank slightly, stunned.

  For a second, neither Pokémon moved.

  Both having taken real damage.

  Lairon still recovered first.

  With a guttural growl, it forced itself upright, iron armor grinding against the rocky floorf. Navi pushed herself up a moment later, trembling, but already closing her eyes again.

  Myst watched the scene.

  And smiled grimly.

  Shit.

  Shadow Ball might hit way harder than Rock Tomb, but Lairon was built like a fortress. If they kept trading blows, it’d be over quickly—and not in their favor.

  “Again!” Byron called, clearly realizing the same.

  Lairon raised its leg and slammed the ground. More stones launched into the air—

  Tele—

  Navi vanished before he could finish his thought.

  The stones struck empty ground.

  She reappeared on the far side of the field with a slight frown on her face, the progress on her next Shadow Ball was already lost.

  Both Pokémon paused, eyeing each other.

  Then Byron barked out a laugh. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Not many would walk into a Gym and bet the whole match on a move that takes a second to charge.”

  Myst shrugged, “Well, I thought we had enough time if we tripped up Lairon first. Obviously, not quite.”

  Byron grunted. “Dangerous banking on a half-finished move. But I get it. You needed a way for Ralts to hit back, right?”

  Myst offered a noncommittal smile. “You could say that.”

  Byron studied him for a beat. Then sighed. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Myst said innocently.

  “Whatever.” Byron raised his voice. “Lairon! Don’t give her room to breathe!”

  Lairon lifted its foot for a third time, but this time, energy didn’t focus into isolated rocks. A deep, light-brown glow surged through its armored limbs like veins of magma—

  Float, Myst commanded instantly.

  —and Lairon slammed its foreleg down.

  The ground shook.

  A rolling shockwave of Ground-type energy burst outward, cracking the earth in a rippling ring of force. There was no safe zone. No place to stand.

  Key word: stand.

  Myst flicked his eyes upward, a grin breaking across his face.

  Navi hovered above the quake, supported by the pink glow of Confusion, levitating herself out of harm’s reach. Still cradled in her own psychic field, she summoned a ball of light, gathered it between her hands—

  —and fired.

  Psybeam screamed across the battlefield, cutting through the dust and slamming into Lairon.

  It bounced off.

  Myst felt his grin die as the beam scattered across Lairon’s armor, only barely causing the Steel-type to grunt.

  But, before he could figure out what to do about that, Byron’s voice boomed across the arena.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Anti-air!”

  The air cracked.

  Dark brown energy burst from Lairon’s body. Without moving a muscle, it summoned slabs of stone from the fractured arena, tearing boulders free from the ground, celling and walls, before launching them towards the floating Ralts.

  Rock Slide.

  Navi reacted instantly, twisting under the first boulder as Confusion flared to life, psychic energy surging as she tried to climb higher—desperately trying to rise out of range.

  A mistake.

  Telepo—

  Myst never finished the thought.

  As Navi narrowly dodged a rock spear jutting from the shattered wall, another boulder tore loose from the ceiling and slammed into her back.

  CRACK!

  The impact shattered her levitation. Her body spun wildly, limbs flailing, before she slammed into the ground, tumbling hard across the cracked terrain.

  She rolled once. Twice. Then—

  A desperate pulse of psychic light stopped her momentum cold.

  Myst clenched his fists as Navi pushed herself upright, her breaths ragged, arms trembling, and aura flickering so intensely he could almost feel it.

  Teleport! he thought, sharp and urgent.

  Navi wavered.

  And so Lairon charged.

  It didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow—just tore across the field like a tank, metal grinding on stone. Its head was wreathed in white-hot Steel-type energy.

  Iron Head.

  For the first time, Myst opened his mouth.

  “TELEPORT!”

  She vanished in a shimmer of psychic light, just as Lairon thundered past the space she'd been, missing her by inches, never breaking stride.

  Navi reappeared on the far end of the battlefield, catching herself hard against the arena wall. Her legs nearly buckled beneath her, but she stayed up.

  Lairon spun on the spot, relentless, and charged again.

  Navi sucked in a breath. Her hand snapped upward, eyes blazing with raw determination. A Psybeam flared to life, aimed squarely at Lairon’s face.

  Trip it! Myst thought.

  As if the thought had been hers all along, Navi flicked her hand downward, redirecting the beam. The attack struck the floor in front of Lairon with a sharp crack, fracturing the stone in a jagged line.

  Smaller than the Magical Leaf crater.

  That might’ve been better.

  Lairon had no time to adjust. Its front leg slammed directly into the fresh break in the arena floor, momentum unchecked.

  BOOM!

  It smashed forward, crashing face-first into the ground. The impact rang through the gym like falling steel. Momentum carried it forward, and with a grinding shriek of armor on stone, it rolled, heavily, onto its back.

  Navi didn’t wait.

  A storm of emerald blades erupted from her hands, raining down on Lairon’s exposed underside. The lighter plating there sang under the assault, each leaf landing with a sharp clang.

  Lairon flinched.

  A grunt of pain tore from its throat as it writhed under the barrage.

  But the moment passed too fast.

  With a roar, Lairon twisted and slammed its claws into the ground, dragging itself upright. It glared at Navi, fury burning in its eyes.

  Navi raised one last shaking hand. A final cluster of leaf-blades shot forward, striking Lairon’s eyes. It snarled, twisting its head aside to avoid the worst of it, blinking furiously through the haze.

  But Navi had already moved.

  The instant Lairon turned away, her hands snapped together, ghostly light flickering to life between them.

  Shadow Ball.

  Across the field, Lairon roared and lunged forward again. Iron Head charged, it surged straight at her.

  Navi thrust her arms out.

  The glowing orb of ghostly energy launched forward, a final clash, hurtling straight for Lairon.

  And then—

  “Jump!” Byron’s voice cut through the noise.

  Lairon jumped.

  Myst’s eyes widened as the massive Pokémon leapt over the Shadow Ball.

  The attack struck the far wall and exploded uselessly.

  What—

  BOOM!

  Lairon hit the ground like a meteor, shaking the entire arena, then kept going, never breaking stride. Its head still gleaming silver, white-hot and blinding.

  Navi’s eyes widened. She threw out her hand, and psychic energy erupted.

  Confusion.

  A violet glow wrapped around Lairon like a net.

  It slowed.

  Just barely.

  From a blinding sprint faster than any human could ever hope to match, Lairon was reduced to a lumbering jog.

  But it still advanced.

  Unstoppable.

  Navi opened her mouth —

  And screamed.

  Raw, primal effort tore from her throat as the Confusion intensified, warping the air with pressure. The gym trembled under the force of her psychic power.

  But Lairon didn’t stop.

  It roared, pushing against the crushing grip with every ounce of strength it had. Armor groaned, plates grinding, legs churning through invisible resistance.

  Myst watched, the world frozen in place.

  Navi dropped to a knee.

  A bitter smile crept over his face.

  In the end, he had always known that winning a pure one-on-one was unlikely. The original plan had hinged on Byron’s ace being at least a little worn down, tired from a clash with Rei. If Lairon had taken even moderate damage beforehand, then maybe this entire gambit with Shadow Ball would’ve worked.

  The hold on Lairon flickered.

  Myst closed his eyes.

  He’d known, even before the match began, that he’d probably lose. That the strategy wouldn’t hold up.

  And yet, for some goddamn reason, he had still asked for the fucking fight.

  Honestly, what was he even trying to accomplish?

  Prove to Byron and Cynthia that they were right when they called him talented?

  Prove it to himself?

  And even if he somehow pulled it off and won—would it even matter?

  If it had been Cynthia out here instead...

  If he were a better trainer...

  If—

  “NOT GIVING UP!” Navi’s voice thundered in his head, raw and childish and utterly overwhelming.

  It hit like a psychic wave—so loud, so full of desperate determination that it washed out his own thoughts entirely.

  For a moment, he wasn’t thinking at all.

  He was feeling.

  Her determination.

  Her want to win.

  Her trust in him.

  His eyes snapped open.

  Navi’s energy spiked.

  And suddenly, everything he’d been telling himself?

  Excuses.

  She pushed herself up, unsteady but unbroken. A wild, savage grin spreading across her face.

  In the end, most of his problems boiled down to something brutally simple:

  He had no idea what he wanted.

  No idea what he was doing.

  And he wasn’t doing a damn thing to change that.

  Across the field, Lairon’s charge skidded to a stop, mid-stride, as Confusion tightened, psychic energy pouring over it in waves strong enough to make the Steel-type looked like a purple jewel.

  Myst sucked in a breath.

  Sure, he knew what he liked.

  He liked his Pokémon. How Navi would mimic him when she was happy. How Rei would wake him up at ungodly hours just to train more.

  Navi’s body flared with light.

  He liked tinkering with Type Energy. How Navi’s Ghost-type moves were grounded in the concept of Echo. How Rei was learning to chain her Aura techniques into seamless flows.

  Her legs elongated, slender and strong.

  He liked Cynthia. The way she teased him. The way she helped him. The way she fucking tried.

  He didn’t try.

  Didn’t have a goal.

  Didn’t even know who he was.

  Her blue cap split apart, unspooling like fabric and flowing down into hair.

  He told Cynthia’s grandmother he was fine, over his amnesia, because admitting otherwise felt like weakness.

  He told Cynthia that his flaws as a trainer weren’t fixable, like that would somehow make her less likely to leave if she ever realized he wasn’t some prodigy.

  He told himself he was trying to live.

  Her horns reformed into smooth, curved disks that crowned her head like polished topaz.

  But he wasn’t, was he?

  He was existing, sure.

  But without a goal.

  With no direction. No vision. No effort.

  Could he really say that he was alive?

  Myst touched his face.

  He was grinning.

  Savage. Wild.

  No.

  You couldn’t.

  The light around Navi shattered—

  And where a Ralts had once stood, a Kirlia remained. Taller. Sharper. Radiant with strength and certainty.

  She raised her hand, gathering a deep purple Psybeam that hummed with rising, unstable power. Myst's eyes locked on the swirling energy. The move still wasn’t ideal. Still not effective against Steel.

  And Navi, even now, was on her last legs.

  If they wanted to win...

  This had to end it right here.

  “Navi, gather more energy!” Myst shouted, the words ripping out of him.

  She didn’t answer, but the beam in her hand instantly pulsed deeper, darker, its pitch rising from a vibration to a roar. The wall behind her cracked under the pressure.

  Lairon didn’t care.

  The Steel-type roared as it broke free of Confusion. Gray energy surged over Lairon’s armor. It charged again, full tilt, Iron Head flaring like molten silver.

  Myst clenched a fist, grin twisting into something manic.

  Navi—maximize damage!

  Still no answer.

  She didn’t need to.

  Her grin twisted to match his.

  She threw back a hand, cloaked in psychic energy so overcharged that it looked almost black, and—

  Punched.

  As Lairon’s Iron Head smashed into Navi’s hand the overcharged Psybeam detonated on contact, exploding across Lairon’s head in a brilliant violet flash.

  The Iron Armor Pokémon screamed as the blast forced it backward. For one brutal second, both Pokémon held, locked in a final contest of force versus force, until the world cracked open between them—

  BOOM!

  Navi blasted back, slamming into the arena wall and crumpled, limp.

  Lairon was hurled across the battlefield, skidding through stone before crashing to a halt in a trembling heap.

  Silence.

  For a second, neither of them moved.

  Myst stood frozen, his breath coming hard and fast, his chest rising and falling with every ragged inhale.

  His hands were shaking.

  But he was still smiling.

  He might not have a goal.

  But that was something he could figure out.

  Not trying... that was so much stupider than trying and failing.

  And across the battlefield—

  Slowly…

  One of them began to rise.

  …

  “…you did well you know” Cynthia said quietly.

  Myst looked at Cynthia.

  Closed his notebook with a soft snap.

  And looked again.

  Then he did a double take, blinking furiously, as if his eyes could somehow fix what he was seeing.

  Nothing changed.

  Which was wild, because, compared to his sketch, the real thing somehow looked less real.

  Cynthia was many things. Fierce. Overpowering. Single-minded. Stubborn to the point of idiocy at times, and terrifyingly sharp at others. She was beautiful, in a fierce way, almost intimidatingly so.

  But she wasn’t meek.

  Even when she was worried, she charged forward, blunt and unstoppable. Tact wasn’t even in her dictionary. Being delicate? Probably some distant oasis on a map she never intended to visit. Which was why seeing her like this—shoulders drawn in, gaze lowered, voice a little too soft—made Myst’s heart stutter.

  He wasn’t sure why.

  But it was kind of… adorable.

  As the silence stretched, Cynthia seemed to regret speaking. Her mouth opened, then shut again almost instantly.

  Myst stared.

  Some part of him, the stupid part , wanted to pretend to be upset, just to see what she’d do. Would she try to comfort him?

  What would that even look like?

  Not really looking, he missed the moment Cynthia clenched her jaw, clearly making some difficult decision. She grabbed her backpack, unclipped one of the straps, and tugged at the buckle.

  Myst’s eyes snapped to the strap as it came apart, revealing a hidden compartment, packed with an alarming number of candy bags, stacked with surgical precision.

  He bluescreened.

  He had thought the straps looked thicker since Eterna—but, like what the hell?

  Cynthia pulled out one pack, resealed the strap, and slid the bag across the table with deadly seriousness.

  “Here. You liked these, right?”

  Myst glanced down.

  “When I have a hard time, I usually eat some candy,” she added. “And I know you said you didn’t care about winning, but it still sucks to lose, so… I figured candy might help.”

  He read the words on the pack.

  Mareeps: Electrically Delicious, Shockingly Nutritious.

  He cracked.

  Like something inside him was unravelling, he broke into laughter, leaning forward against the table as Cynthia’s face turned bright red.

  “What! I just thought that you—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hands, wheezing.

  “No, no—seriously, I appreciate it, Cynthia. It’s just—"”

  She glared.

  He broke again, laughter spilling out in waves.

  Cynthia huffed, glancing away, firmly fixing her gaze on the Contest field where things were beginning to stir. Myst took a breath, reining himself back in, only to almost lose it again when he saw her pouting.

  His lips twitched as he fought to keep a straight face.

  She looked back and glared harder.

  Myst shook his head, reached down to pat Navi’s Poké Ball, and looked up again.

  “Seriously, Cynthia, it’s fine. Losing to Byron, I expected it. Like I said before, I just wanted to see if my strategy would work. Now I know: relying on a move that isn’t fully developed is a bad idea.”

  Cynthia let out a single, sceptical “uh-huh,” sounding like she believed him as much as she believed in flying pigs.

  Myst shrugged.

  She sighed. “Whatever.” Then, she paused, before continuing, more softly, “Navi’s okay, at least? She feeling alright after the match? Nurse Joy didn’t say anything?”

  Myst took another breath, still fighting down a grin, and shook his head. “She’s doing fine. A little down, but I’d warned her it’d be tough. Nurse Joy just said I should up her food intake, especially for the first week post-evolution.”

  Cynthia nodded lightly. “Smart. Evolution triggers a huge energy spike, lets a Pokémon pull off things they normally couldn’t. But it’s draining too. Wouldn’t surprise me if Navi’s wiped for a few days, unable to do anything but walk around. Really, you should look into—”

  Myst let her talk as he popped a piece of candy into his mouth.

  Even though Nurse Joy had told him the same thing, something about Cynthia’s voice, the shine in her eyes, the way she practically glowed while talking about Pokémon, made him actually want to listen. You could probably be blind and still see how much she loved Pokémon.

  “—and I think you should readjust how much—” she paused, snatched the candy he offered her, and popped it into her mouth.

  Myst grinned as her face puckered. Still, she closed her eyes for a second, savoring it before swallowing.

  He shook his head. “I swear these were sweet the last time.”

  “They’d been open in my backpack for weeks,” Cynthia muttered, cheeks a little pink. “They probably lost most of the flavor…” She glanced at him. “You don’t like them?”

  “Nah, I like sour things. Better if there’s a little spice, you know?”

  His eyes lingered on her.

  She nodded. “Same. Anyway, we were talking about Navi’s evolution…”

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember where she'd left off. When she stayed quiet for a few seconds, Myst leaned back slightly, letting his own thoughts drift.

  Evolution always felt distant, abstract. He knew it happened, sure, but after months in Eterna Forest, he’d never seen it. And even with Cynthia, it hadn’t come up much.

  He paused.

  Which, in hindsight, was pretty weird. Honestly, something he should ask about later… Still, right now, his thoughts kept drifting back to Navi.

  From what he knew, Ralts didn’t evolve particularly late. He wasn’t certain how strong Navi had been, but she probably could’ve evolved ages ago. Hell, considering how strong she was back then, maybe even just after the first Gym Battle.

  So why now?

  He tapped the table absently.

  Pressure might’ve played a role. But he couldn’t shake a thought that had crept in.

  Kirlia exposed to positive emotions grow beautifully.

  What if that didn’t just mean appearance?

  What if evolution itself required a burst of strong emotion?

  His knowledge had been incomplete before, after all. This felt like exactly the kind of thing he might’ve missed, the kind of quiet nuance his understanding always seemed to lack.

  And that would mean his moment of clarity, the emotional feedback loop between them, had finally triggered it. Which was kind of beautiful… and kind of sad.

  He shook his head.

  Didn’t he just decide to stop spiralling like this?

  “—and you’re not paying attention,” Cynthia said flatly.

  Myst paused for a moment, looking up at Cynthia. For a second, they just stared at each other.

  She narrowed her eyes, about to speak—

  “Sorry,” Myst said quickly. “I was thinking about what you mentioned earlier.”

  Cynthia blinked. “What?”

  “You know. About making a list of what I don’t know.”

  She pursed her lips. “Ah.”

  Myst grinned slightly, but the words caught in his throat. Even if that wasn’t what he’d been thinking about, he wanted to talk about it.

  Still…

  He opened his mouth. Closed it.

  Took a breath.

  When he looked up, Cynthia was just watching him. No judgment. No teasing. Her face was unreadable, eyes steady as she waited, for once, with quiet patience.

  That caught him more off guard than anything.

  His forced smile faltered… and then grew genuine.

  He liked her.

  That much was obvious.

  And maybe that was what made everything so damn difficult. Liking her meant risking the illusion that he had things figured out. It meant showing her how lost he really was, how much of what he said and did was just guesswork and grit. Some part of him still believed the only reason she kept traveling with him was because she thought he was good enough to keep up.

  He paused.

  Really… he needed to fix himself, huh?

  With a shake of his head, he opened his mouth again.

  “How about we do it?” he said. “I still don’t think it’ll help much, but it can’t hurt, right?”

  Cynthia lit up instantly. “Of course! I already have a bunch of questi—” She caught herself, coughed lightly. “I mean… I’ve come up with a few things you might not know.”

  Myst’s grin widened, amusement flickering behind his eyes, but before he could tease her, the private room dimmed.

  Below, the stage burst to life in a flare of golden light and music. A dozen spotlights swept across the Contest hall as fanfare blasted from the stadium speakers. He turned just in time to see the first trainers emerging through opposite gates, each one in elaborate costumes, their Pokémon flanking them like stars on a red carpet.

  Cynthia took the opportunity to turn fully away from him, blurting out, “Let’s talk about this later,” before spinning her chair toward the stage.

  Myst watched her for a beat longer, eyes drifting down to her hand resting lightly on the chair arm. Okay, maybe his feelings for her weren’t the healthiest right now… but who said he couldn’t work on that while—

  Cynthia shot him a side-eye.

  He blinked, snapped out of it, and rolled his chair up beside her to watch. After all, this was the reason Johanna had gone through the trouble of securing them a private viewing room in the first place.

  The first contestant strode forward, a girl in a sharply cut suit, embroidered with stylized tridents. Her Prinplup marched proudly beside her, chest puffed, feathers gleaming.

  Next came a boy dressed in a classic karate gi, standing perfectly balanced on his Machoke’s outstretched arm. The Fighting-type carried him with practiced ease, drawing applause as the boy waved dramatically to the crowd.

  One by one, the participants entered, each accompanied by their partner Pokémon. Their names echoed through the arena, and with each entrance, the applause ebbed and swelled, some polite, some enthusiastic.

  Then the main gate opened again, and this time, the applause didn’t come.

  It died.

  “Johanna Hikari from Twinleaf Town, entering with her partner Midna the Umbreon!” the announcer’s voice echoed, crisp and clear.

  Johanna stepped through.

  No one cheered.

  The entire stadium seemed to pause, thousands of heads turning in perfect unison to follow her steps.

  Each stride she took pulled the air tighter. The lights dimmed slightly, as if the entire hall was instinctively holding its breath. She wore a midnight-blue gown that clung to her figure and flared at the hem, patterned with tiny silver starbursts that shimmered with every motion, as if the night sky had been draped around her shoulders.

  Beside her, Midna glided forward with effortless grace. The Umbreon’s movements were fluid and deliberate, each step in time with Johanna’s. They weren’t just synchronized, they belonged together.

  Not just a girl and her Pokémon.

  A painting come to life.

  For several seconds, Myst just stared, transfixed by the gravity of the moment. Then, the announcer’s voice returned:

  “Welcome to the Oreburgh City Contest!”

  The silence shattered like glass.

  A roar of applause swept through the stadium, tidal and immediate.

  Myst didn’t join in.

  Instead, he tilted his head toward the giant stage speakers bracketing the room, and leaned toward Cynthia with a lopsided grin.

  “How much do you want to bet this is where all the Gym’s funding has gone the past few years?”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue.

  …

  On some level, Myst had always known Johanna was a Contest star. The winner of the Sinnoh Grand Festival. The Contest equivalent of the Lily of the Valley Champion.

  He knew that.

  But it was hard to feel it when he actually knew Johanna, the girl who awkwardly chased after them and pretended they were friends on their first meeting.

  Still, he wasn’t going to lie.

  The second the slow, haunting music began to play—when a glowing moon rose over the stage in the middle of broad daylight, dimming the world into twilight—

  His body electrified.

  Midna appeared first.

  She stepped lightly onto the stage, each motion more a skip than a stride. But every time her paws touched the surface, it rippled like water, as if she were walking on a dream rather than a platform. It felt theatrical. Unreal.

  Then she glanced back, towards the audience, and tilted her head ever so slightly.

  Myst felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

  A soft smile touched Midna’s expression. Then she nodded.

  The music quickened.

  Johanna stumbled onto the stage from nothingness, as if she’d broken through some invisible wall between worlds. She wore the same dress as before, but looked down at it like she was seeing it for the first time.

  Slowly, her head turned, dragging the entire audience’s gaze downward—to the floor of the stage itself.

  Another Johanna stared back, this one dressed in casual clothes. Then, without a word, the clone turned and ran.

  The music surged.

  Johanna chased after her, but with every step she took, a new mirror image appeared beside her.

  One held a trophy high, tears shining in her eyes.

  Another posed in a dazzling outfit, surrounded by imaginary cameras.

  A third sat smiling, picture-perfect, alone on an invisible interview couch.

  Johanna didn’t stop for any of them. She chased only the version in everyday clothes.

  Midna remained behind, calmly licking her paw. She watched the scene unfold with lazy, bemused detachment, until she gave a theatrical sigh and turned away.

  Johanna stumbled. She fell to her knees, and the mirror images began to circle, closing in around her.

  The music rose, jagged and fast.

  Johanna curled inward, as if to hide from her reflections—

  Midna turned her back.

  —then stopped.

  The first image reached her, hand outstretched, but Johanna didn’t flinch. She uncurled, looked up at the reflection, and reached out and took its hand.

  The illusion burst into light.

  The music slowed.

  One by one, she rose and touched the remaining images, each fading gently, like the moon in rippling water.

  Midna froze.

  Her head whipped around, ears perked, eyes wide.

  Johanna walked forward, toward the casual version of herself—

  And then walked past it.

  Instead, she crossed the stage to Midna’s side. She sat beside her partner, and without fanfare, let her hand rest softly on the Umbreon’s head.

  The moon shattered.

  The Johanna wearing casual clothing vanished.

  Both Johanna and Midna dissolved into moonlight.

  For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to stop breathing. Then the arena erupted. A roar of applause exploded through the stadium, raw and thunderous. People rose to their feet, cheering so loud the ground in their private booth vibrated.

  Myst didn’t move. He sat frozen in his seat, heart hammering against his ribs, unsure what to even feel. Slowly, he turned to Cynthia. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  Wide-eyed. Silent.

  He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but she beat him to it, her expression suddenly darkening.

  “‘Never had my Pokémon use moves like that,’ my ass,” she muttered darkly.

  I am not satisfied with this chapter, and it might show in the quality. It has been rewritten about 10 times now, and I even delayed releasing it to go over it one more time, just to still kind of feel like it doesn’t hold up. So, yeah, sorry about that.

  Still, you might realize that there are a lot of subtext in this chapter, and not just for Myst, so feel free to speculate about it.

  PS: Cynthia gets free time in eterna city. Wastes two days on getting a vaguely uncomfortable compartment installed on her backpack to hide candy.