Cynthia stared at the Ralts, her mind grinding to a halt.

  She opened her mouth.

  Closed it.

  “It is,” she said slowly, realizing belatedly that Myst couldn’t have seen her nod.

  Either way, he was right. It had to be shiny. She had never seen a Ralts before, never mind a shiny one, but she knew its cap was supposed to be green, not blue.

  The injured Pokémon let out a low moan, and Cynthia swallowed.

  Myst grimaced beside her, glancing toward Roselia.

  “So I guess…” He trailed off, blinking like he’d lost his train of thought. He shook his head and tried again. “I mean, I guess the Roselia wanted your backpack to help it, then?”

  He motioned towards another corner.

  She followed his hand to a slightly raised platform, looking almost like a makeshift table. Her backpack laid there, open and emptied of all its contents. Next to it sat the Chansey-themed box, untouched.

  Well, not untouched.

  Deep gouges marred its surface, scratches carving into the once-smooth lid. But the box remained closed.

  “Roselia didn’t open it?” Myst murmured, stepping forward to pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, tracing the locking mechanism.

  The answer became obvious.

  “Ah. No fingers.” He muttered, fumbling slightly, his hands trembling.

  It took him a few seconds to hook a finger under the latch and press up and down at the same time. With a soft click, the box popped open, revealing her Pokédex lying on top of the medical supplies, safe and dry inside the waterproof casing.

  Cynthia stared at it.

  For a moment, relief rushed through her, so sharp and sudden it almost hurt.

  Then, vicious satisfaction curled in her chest.

  She had won.

  She had beaten Roselia.

  She had finally gotten her Pokédex back.

  The next second?

  That feeling burst, like a balloon pricked by a needle

  All her anger, all her frustration, everything that had driven her to run through the night just vanished.

  And in its place?

  Nothing.

  She sagged, muscles aching as the weight of everything crashed down on her.

  For what?

  She let her eyes glide between Myst, Roselia, and Ralts.

  She had sprinted through the night, dragged Myst along, nearly collapsed Riolu—

  For what?

  To play villain in some poor Pokémon’s story?

  Nausea bubbled up in her stomach. Her hands clenched into the fabric of her sleeves.

  Great job, Cynthia.

  Myst smiled as he held out her Pokédex, but she barely saw it. Her eyes locked onto him instead. He always looked off. Too bony. Too pale for someone who spent every day outside. Usually, she noticed it, but never quite realized it.

  But right now?

  He looked destroyed.

  Dark circles curled under his eyes. His hand trembled as he held up the Pokédex. Every small detail, the slight tremor in his fingers, the hollow look in his gaze, made it painfully clear. He was beyond exhausted. Running on something he probably shouldn’t be tapping into.

  And even with that smile, so practiced, so effortless, he couldn’t make her unsee it.

  Her nails dug into her palm.

  This whole chase had been too much.

  She should have waited.

  Should have gone alone.

  This was never his problem.

  Myst’s smile grew a little more forced when she didn’t take the Pokédex. “What, you don’t want it anymore? Guess I’ll keep it, then. Might make a good paperweight.” He joked, grabbing her hand gently and pressing the device into her palm.

  It had always felt deceptively heavy, just a touch more than she thought it should. When she’d complained, her grandmother had only chuckled and said, "It’s as heavy as the responsibility that comes with it."

  Cynthia looked at the Pokédex.

  Then at Myst.

  Then at the Ralts.

  The Pokédex slipped from her fingers.

  Myst caught it before it hit the ground, but she was already moving.

  “You—” He began.

  She brushed past him, scanning the medical supplies.

  Status condition treatments, where were they?

  Her eyes darted over the items in the box. No Awakening, no Ice Heal. She hadn’t bothered buying them, her Pokémon could usually shrug off sleep, and freezing was unlikely in the forest. No Burn Heal, either, you could quick fix that with a prolonged dip in cold water.

  But she had stocked up on other things.

  Myst grabbed her arm from behind. “Seriously! You want to run after your Pokédex, fine, but don’t just—”

  Cynthia turned toward him.

  Myst paused. His grip loosened.

  “Fuck.” He mumbled.

  She didn’t register his words.

  Nor the way his face twisted into something like regret.

  Instead, she yanked her arm free, shoved aside a Paralyze Heal, and grabbed what she needed.

  A small red-and-yellow syringe.

  A standard-issue Antidote.

  Then she rushed to Ralts, the sharp, metallic scent of blood hitting her the moment she drew close. Her stomach twisted, but she shoved the feeling down, reaching for its darkened hand—

  Ralts flinched.

  A tremor ran through its tiny body, barely noticeable except for the way its blackened hand twitched. Its breathing came in short, uneven gasps, its whole form trembling like it was teetering on the edge of collapse.

  Her eyes locked onto the poisoned limb.

  It wasn’t recent.

  The darkness of the infection, the way the flesh had withered.

  No, it had been at least a week.

  A week of agonizing pain.

  A week of watching its greatest protector, a mighty Flygon, slowly die around it.

  A week as its friend, a gallant Roselia, desperately scrambled to find a cure.

  Tears welled up in Cynthia’s eyes as she uncapped the syringe, her vision blurring.

  And she had wanted to—

  Had wanted to—

  Then Ralts’ small horn flared with a sudden, desperate glow.

  A crushing force exploded outward.

  And she was in the air.

  Floating.

  Pain flared as she hit the ground, her elbows scraping against the rough floor. The world spun, her vision blurring at the edges as the breath fled her lungs. Her arms screamed in protest as she pushed herself upright, but she barely noticed—

  Because the syringe had slipped from her fingers.

  Her eyes locked onto it, and her heart lurched as she watched it spin through the air, too fast, too far.

  “REI!” Myst screamed.

  Rei leapt.

  Myst’s partner twisted midair, ears snapping forward and caught the syringe just before it hit the ground.

  Cynthia exhaled, but before she could even think about moving, Myst snatched it from Rei’s ear.

  For a second he didn’t do anything, just stared at the syringe in his hand.

  Then, almost absently, he spoke.

  “You know… Ralts senses the emotions of people through its horns.” His voice was quiet, like he wasn’t speaking to her so much as reminding himself.

  He smiled. An easy, practiced expression.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  It didn’t look natural.

  Even so, as he took slow, measured steps toward the shivering Pokémon, his voice didn’t stop. “They draw closer to trainers with positive emotions… and hide from negative ones, too, I guess.”

  Myst crouched in front of Ralts, hesitating for just a moment.

  Then, softly—

  “What do I do?”

  His voice didn’t crack.

  He sounded completely calm.

  But Cynthia felt it in her bones.

  They stared at each other. Cynthia looked away first, fixing her gaze on the syringe.

  His grip on it was wrong, his hands were trembling.

  She didn’t need to ask, didn’t see the point, he had never done this before.

  Of course he hadn’t, after all, even if he had, he probably wouldn’t remember.

  She should be the one to help.

  Letting him try to inject their only Antidote would be foolish… but more than that, this was her mistake.

  She had trained for this.

  She should be the one to fix it.

  She clenched her jaw and wiped her tears away. She could feel sorry for herself later. Right now, she needed to—

  Ralts’ horn flared again, letting out a desperate wail, like her very presence made it afraid.

  Myst held up a hand, and she froze. His expression hadn’t changed.

  He was still smiling.

  “Cynthia, you can’t. Ralts won’t let you get near right now.” His voice sounded too light. Like he had packed away his emotions and sent them somewhere far away.

  Cynthia opened her mouth, wanting to argue, to protest—

  And shut it again.

  Not about her.

  This wasn’t about her.

  “…Okay,” she managed, before taking a breath and forcing herself to calm down. “See where the skin is darkest? Lay the tip of the Antidote there, just enough to barely pierce it.”

  He paused. “Just under the skin? How would that—”

  Cynthia cut him off.

  “Just do it. Antidotes cleanse poison through Aura. Think what saved you.”

  “Right.” Myst mumbled.

  His fingers were still trembling as he positioned the needle, but his breathing steadied, just slightly.

  “And?”

  “Slowly. Light pressure,” Cynthia stressed.

  Myst exhaled.

  Then pressed.

  It felt like it took forever. Having to watch as the liquid inside the syringe slowly emptied.

  Then, as his finger reached the end and the syringe emptied, Cynthia bit her lip.

  Ralts didn’t move. Its horn flickered weakly, but there was no sign that anything had changed. Cynthia’s nails dug into her palms. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  What if the medicine was faulty?

  What if she had given wrong instructions?"

  Then, the next moment, the blackened flesh began to change.

  At first, it was subtle, so subtle Cynthia almost missed it. But then, like ink bleeding through paper, the sickly darkness began to retreat.

  The veins, once stark against the pallid skin, lost their unnatural hue, fading back into something closer to normal. The twisted, withered edges of Ralts’ small hand loosened, as if the pain that had kept them rigid was finally beginning to fade.

  Ralts’ breathing, once sharp and ragged, steadied. Each exhale came a little easier than the last, no longer so uneven, no longer a desperate fight for relief. The shivering didn’t stop completely, but it lessened, the erratic, frantic tremors shrinking into something smaller, something manageable.

  Myst stepped back like he’d handled a wild Ursaring.

  He was trembling, his eyes shaking.

  Like this had been more exhausting than chasing the Roselia through the entire night.

  Cynthia exhaled.

  “Good job,” she murmured, a numbing relief flooding her.

  But even as relief settled in, she kept staring at the limb.

  Even though the poison had receded, she could still see how weak the limb had gotten. It would need more treatment, and fast.

  If not, they would have to do something.

  The Antidote might have cleared the toxin from Ralts’ Aura, allowing it to heal again, but the poison had already seeped deep into its body. That was the problem with waiting too long, and the reason Antidotes were meant to be used immediately. Wait too long, and even an Antidote wouldn’t be enough.

  A Pokémon Center would be the only option.

  And right now, that wasn’t an option.

  Myst was barely standing as it was. After today? After everything? It would take a miracle for him to move tomorrow. Even that was optimistic.

  Honestly, even with his Aura helping him, it was incredible he was still on his feet.

  Cynthia clenched her jaw. “I’ll get out of the forest tomorrow and find help. You need to stay here and take care of Ralts.”

  Myst turned to her, and something in his smile made her freeze. It was soft. Understanding.

  And completely wrong on his face.

  “Cynthia…” He took a step closer.

  She stepped back. “It’s for the best. I can’t keep dragging you around, not when you’re like this. And it’ll be faster, if I run through today and tomorrow, I can probably make it out by then.”

  He smiled at her.

  “You can’t convince me this isn’t the best plan! Look at yourself, look at Ralts!” She gestured sharply. “You’re both going to get hurt, seriously hurt, if we don’t do something. You need to stay here, rest, and let me handle this.”

  Myst moved closer again.

  “You’re barely standing, Myst!” Her voice cracked on his name. “Even…” She fumbled for the right words, clenching her nails deeper into her skin. “Even with your Aura helping, it’s a fucking miracle you’re still on your feet. And I know you’ll argue, but let’s be real, you’re too weak.”

  He just kept smiling. Like she wasn’t making perfect, irrefutable sense.

  She clenched her fists. “Don’t look at me like that! You’re exhausted, you’re dying! And I—”

  Her breath hitched. The words caught in her throat, jagged and painful.

  “And I— I dragged you around like—”

  Myst lifted a hand.

  She barely had time to flinch before he pulled her into a hug.

  Cynthia went rigid.

  Then, all at once, something cracked inside her.

  She was crying.

  Had been crying.

  So she cried.

  ………………………….

  Cynthia stirred as something nudged her head off its resting spot. Grumbling, she tried to reclaim it, only to push her face into something soft and… weird. She shifted, attempting to move away, but something brushed her lips, before slipping inside her mouth.

  She spat it out instantly, but the feeling had jolted her out of her sleep.

  With a groan, she cracked her eyes open—

  Only to be met with a curtain of black that blocked her vision. For a groggy second, she struggled to process what she was seeing.

  Then, before she could make sense of it, the thing she had been leaning on shifted ever so slightly, causing her head to slide off once again. A dull ache spread through her neck as she pushed herself upright, blinking blearily…

  Right into Myst’s face.

  And his hair, which she had just had in her mouth.

  Cynthia froze. The sight was enough to snap her from half-asleep to wide awake in an instant. Her eyes dropped, focusing on the tips of his messy hair. Heat crept up her face as Myst let out a low groan. Without thinking, she immediately averted her gaze, her eyes darting elsewhere—

  And spotted the Pokéball in her lap.

  Why was there a Pokéball in her lap?

  She usually kept them in…

  Oh.

  Memory clicked into place. She had captured Roselia last night, right before exhaustion overtook her. The decision had been almost automatic, a way to ensure that, even if the Pokémon woke up, it wouldn’t cause any more trouble.

  She stared at it blankly until Myst stirred beside her, and Cynthia’s eyes drifted back towards him and—

  Her face burned again.

  Suddenly, everything from yesterday came rushing back. The things she had said. The way he had held her as she cried her heart out…

  She tried to move away, to quietly put some distance between them, but something stopped her.

  She froze.

  Slowly, her eyes lowered to the hand still wrapped around her waist, holding her gently.

  Her breath caught.

  “Cynthia, what is—”

  His voice, soft and groggy, made her pulse skip. Her body stiffened like it suddenly wasn’t hers to control, like her limbs belonged to someone else. The warmth of his hand on her waist sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.

  Without thinking, she twisted out of his grip and stood abruptly, scanning the room as if searching for an escape.

  Nothing had changed since yesterday.

  Queenie was still curled up by the entrance, Rei was snuggled up against Myst, and Ralts lay peacefully on the makeshift grass patch they had created as a bed.

  Behind her, Myst yawned, groggily pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. His movements were sluggish, like just getting up was painful.

  Cynthia stole a glance at him, then quickly looked away before he could catch her staring.

  “Good morning,” she mumbled, feeling suddenly unsure of how to sound normal.

  “I mean, I don’t think it’s morning,” Myst commented lazily, stretching.

  Cynthia blinked.

  “Right… we fell asleep…” She trailed off, her mind still caught in yesterday.

  And the unmitigated disaster it had been.

  Her gaze flicked back to Myst.

  He looked… not fine, but then, he never really looked fine. Still, she had expected worse, exhaustion, frailty, maybe even the same drained look he had after using the Aura booster. Instead, he looked almost normal.

  Like he hadn’t just spent the night running through a forest, surviving on nothing but the berries they stumbled across.

  Cynthia exhaled slightly. That was a relief. She had worried he’d be out for days. But considering his current state, they might even be able to continue their journey tomorrow…

  Of course, they had wasted a lot of time running almost perpendicular to the river they were supposed to follow.

  And that wasn’t even counting the fact that they’d need to brin—

  “You look better,” Myst mused, lazily stretching again. Then he smirked. “No longer feeling like the world is ending, Princess?”

  Cynthia flushed as his words cut off her thoughts.

  Myst blinked at her reaction, clearly not expecting it, but before he could say anything, she shot him a glare.

  “You don’t have to make everything a joke, you know,” she bit out.

  Myst opened his mouth, and she braced herself for another snarky remark, but then he hesitated. His expression shifted, and instead, he shrugged helplessly.

  “Yeah, sorry. Force of habit, I guess,” he admitted. “But I did tell you, right? Most problems solve themselves after a good night’s sleep.”

  Cynthia inhaled deeply, regaining some calm. “It’s fine. Just…” She trailed off, unsure what she even wanted to say.

  Myst, however, didn’t let her linger in silence.

  “You don’t have to pretend, you know?” he said suddenly.

  His tone, playful, teasing, was the kind she usually associated with couples…

  WHAA—

  Cynthia's thoughts scattered, her brain momentarily short-circuiting, her face flushing with embarrassment.

  Myst took a step closer, his soft smile making her heart beat a little faster.

  Cynthia instinctively held up a hand to stop him—

  But before she could even process the impulse, he brushed past her, moving toward Ralts. He crouched down next to the small Pokémon, his voice light and casual. “Just because you’ve got a cap on doesn’t mean I can’t see you peeking. We’re not going to hurt you. That’d be counterproductive after we saved you and all that.”

  Cynthia’s thoughts stalled.

  Oh.

  Right.

  He was talking to Ralts.

  Why did she even…

  Her mind scrambled, and she quickly pushed the thought aside, forcing her attention to Myst’s hand as it hovered gently near Ralts.

  Sure enough, the little Pokémon was peeking out from beneath her blue cap, her wide, cautious eyes locked onto the scene. A soft, unexpected warmth unfurled in Cynthia’s chest at the sight, a melting feeling that made her heart flutter in her ribs.

  The sight was enough to make her forget about Myst entirely.

  She smiled.

  But as if sensing her gaze, Ralts’s eyes met hers—

  And immediately darted away.

  Ralts scrambled back, her small body trembling as she tucked herself behind Myst’s arm.

  Cynthia’s smile froze.

  “Oh, smart,” Myst murmured, glancing down at the Psychic-type. “That thing is scary.”

  Ralts clung to him tighter, and Cynthia’s heart twisted at the sight.

  With a sigh, Cynthia muttered, “You don’t need to encourage it.”

  She took a step forward, but Ralts trembled again, retreating further.

  The sight of the little Pokémon, so fragile and scared, twisted Cynthia’s heart like a vice. Honestly, did every cute Pokémon recently have some sort of vendetta against her?

  Myst, though, didn’t miss a beat. “Almost drowned me yesterday,” he added casually.

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “That was just—” She sighed again, deciding to let him have that one. Just for today.

  Myst only grinned impishly at her. “Just what?”

  She rolled her eyes at the way he grinned at her.

  Typical.

  But the frustration that had been bubbling inside her from earlier seemed to fade. Maybe it was his smile. Maybe it was just… the situation. Either way, it felt pointless to keep pushing back.

  With a quiet exhale, she straightened up.

  “I messed up yesterday,” she started suddenly.

  Myst blinked, processing her words for a moment before immediately waving her off. “That was as much my fault, honestly, if—”

  She raised a hand, cutting him off. “Let me finish.”

  He closed his mouth.

  Cynthia took a breath.

  “I messed up yesterday. Not just because I dragged you along. Not just because I underestimated Roselia. Not just because I panicked when Ralts needed me.”

  The words hurt to say.

  “But because I did all of those things.”

  She still had to say them.

  She glanced at Ralts again, who was peeking over Myst’s shoulder now.

  “So… thank you.”

  Myst blinked, as if startled.

  “You didn’t just help,” Cynthia continued, her voice soft but steady. “You helped without a second thought, like not doing it wasn’t even an option. When I panicked about losing the Pokédex, you didn’t hesitate to jump in, even if it meant running through the forest for an entire night. When I misjudged Roselia, you and Rei stepped in to hold her off. And when I—” Her face heated again. “You know… you helped me.”

  She swallowed. Then, carefully, she met his gaze.

  “I don’t really have words other than thank you. So that’s all you’re getting but just know I will remember this.” She finished, feeling the warmth of the blush creeping up her neck.

  For a moment she looked away, before her gaze drifted back to him.

  And then—

  She noticed his face.

  If she thought she might be red?

  Well, he was practically glowing.

  “Ah—eh—uh—” He made a sound that might have been a word. Maybe.

  It was strange. She was being sincere—

  Which, honestly, felt embarrassing enough on its own.

  Something that should have been short and simple.

  But looking at him like this?

  Cynthia suddenly felt like she could go on.

  “You’re actually really incredible, you know,” she said, the words coming without much thought. “You were more exhausted than me, but you still managed to keep calm and help Ralts.”

  “W-Well, you know me. Exhausted is basically my natural state.” Myst stammered out, sounding completely out of his depth.

  Cynthia sat down beside him.

  Then, very deliberately, she leaned into his arm.

  He stiffened. His face, already red, deepened to an almost comical shade.

  “Still,” she murmured, her voice low, “I don’t think you realize how much I appreciate you. Honestly, you’ve been a huge help. Your knowledge is incredible and—"

  As she spoke, she pressed a little closer at times, just enough to make him awkwardly tense when she did.

  Really, she really did appreciate everything he’d done.

  Telling him was a good thing.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this moment.

  Enjoy some minor revenge.

  After all, she had a feeling their next conversation wouldn’t be this much fun.