Half an hour ago, when Cynthia had slotted her rented bike into its dock and locked it with a decisive click, all she’d felt was relief. Cycling Road had always been one of those places she’d dreamed of crossing, one of those Routes only trainers on their Journey really bothered with. And so, of course, she’d wanted to do it too.

  But after everything that had happened?

  Yeah. She was just glad to be back on dirt and gravel, walking on her own two feet again.

  …Not that she didn’t understand Johanna’s reaction. If the last few days had gone differently, she probably would’ve been the one glancing over her shoulder, sighing longingly for the wind-in-her-hair freedom of a downhill slope.

  Still. She did think Johanna was maybe overdoing it just a little.

  Right on cue, Johanna sighed again, long and dramatic, as her gaze drifted back toward the fading arc of silver that was Cycling Road. It shimmered like a ribbon suspended in air, stretching off into the hazy green horizon.

  “Ah, well,” Johanna moaned, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “I guess that’s it for the fast part of the Route.”

  Cynthia let out a sigh of her own at Johanna’s words—and her many, many sighs—before having to stifle a smile as Johanna frowned.

  The stubborn curl she’d been trying to flatten had sprung right back up, defying yet another attempt to tame it.

  Karma, probably. Or something like it.

  Even so, Cynthia wasn’t heartless enough not to offer a sympathetic look. Johanna had been battling the helmet-induced disaster on her head for the past thirty minutes, and she was losing. Badly. Even now, her fingers kept fussing, trying to subdue a lock of hair that clearly had both a mind and a long-held grudge of its own.

  Myst noticing exactly none of this, stretched, arms overhead, joints cracking audibly.

  “Well, you know what they say,” he said, voice light. “The only thing you get from going fast is… uh… nowhere… faster.” He squinted. “Wait. That’s not it.”

  He glanced sideways at Cynthia. “You know what I meant, though?”

  Ralts, who had been bouncing slightly at his side, clearly gearing up to nod along, suddenly paused. Her horn gave a faint pulse, soft and flickering, as she stilled. Then, without a sound, she reached out and grabbed hold of Myst’s pant leg.

  Cynthia just shot him a deadpan look. “All I know is that you don’t know your expressions.”

  Myst reeled back as if struck, clutching his chest dramatically.

  “How could you say that? I’ll have you know—”

  He cut off, eyes flicking toward Johanna. A faint flush crept up his neck.

  Cynthia arched a brow. “What? You have something to say?”

  For a beat, Myst said nothing.

  Cynthia hesitated, caught by the sudden shift in the air. She turned her gaze toward Johanna, and instantly felt her own cheeks warm.

  Johanna grinned, eyes bright with fondness and barely concealed mirth.

  “Go on. Don’t mind me,” she said innocently. “I’ve got no stake in this.”

  Myst, while red in the face, still managed to narrow his eyes at her overly-innocent tone. He opened his mouth, clearly gearing up for a retort—

  “Ralts!”

  The sharp cry from his side cut clean through the moment. Ralts tugged urgently at his pant leg, her tiny arm pointing up the mountainside.

  Myst turned first, but Cynthia followed his gaze, and then blinked, taken aback.

  She hadn’t even considered looking up. Why would she? The cliff walls had just been part of the background: towering, craggy, and still. There’d been no sound, no tremor, no hint of movement to draw her eye. But now that she was looking?

  Yeah, she understood why Ralts had reacted.

  On a nearby ledge stood a Golem, its head subtly raised, its shell worn nearly black with age. Behind it, like a silent phalanx, stretched a formation of stone, at least fifty Geodude and Graveler, all standing at attention, each one staring down the slope with unnerving stillness.

  For a second, she just stared, almost not noticing the faint glow building around Ralts horn, whose eyes remained fixed on the ledge above.

  “Ralts?”

  Why do they want to jump?

  Ralts words landed and then, with a jolt, Cynthia’s hand flew to her Poké Balls.

  Still too slow.

  Before Queenie’s ball could even expand in her grip, the Golem barked.

  And the mountain moved.

  The Gravelers launched first, boulders with limbs hurtling off the ledge with thunderous weight. Behind them came the Geodude, crashing down in waves, and in an instant, the peaceful slope became a roaring avalanche of stone and fury.

  “Ralts!”

  Ralts said something, but Cynthia couldn’t make it out, not with the roar of rolling stone drowning out everything else.

  She raised her hand and caught a glimpse of Johanna doing the same in the corner of her eye.

  Queenie and an Umbreon burst forth, planting themselves between their trainers and the oncoming storm.

  Not that it would be enough.

  The sound shifted, deepened. A dark brown glow began to build around the rushing mass of round Rock-types, spiraling like an aura of pressure and momentum.

  Rollout.

  A move that only grew stronger with speed. Stronger with time.

  Queenie stepped forward, jaw clenched, bracing herself. Umbreon mirrored her, low to the ground, eyes sharp and focused.

  Ralts?

  Ralts just stood there, horn glowing softly.

  Cynthia blinked, eyes flicking toward Myst.

  Rei was nowhere to be seen.

  Her heart froze.

  Myst met her gaze, then blinked, like he couldn’t understand why she was standing behind Queenie. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost beneath the thunderous swerve of stone.

  The lead Gravelers curved at the last moment, carving clean arcs through the earth. The avalanche turned to choreography. Their paths bent gracefully, veering around the group in wide, fluid loops.

  The Geodude followed.

  Not as precise, not as elegant, but still avoiding them by clear margins. They bobbled and bounced as they passed, some waving stubby arms, others too swept up in momentum to do anything but roll.

  And then the wave kept coming.

  Dozens. More. A hundred.

  Far more than she’d seen at first. Far more.

  The rock-types continued hurling themselves from the ledge in a seemingly endless cascade. The slope trembled under their weight. The air grew thick with dust and the low, grunting echoes of exertion.

  Cynthia couldn’t even hear her own thoughts, not over the roar of gravel, not over the pulse of energy gathering on every rounded body.

  The sound wasn’t deafening.

  It was everywhere.

  Around them. Beneath them. Behind them.

  It felt like standing inside the lungs of something massive.

  Alive.

  Moving.

  And utterly indifferent.

  Cynthia didn’t speak, couldn’t even if she wanted to. She just stood, as the world passed in a blur of rolling weight and laughter.

  “Ralts!”

  The leader!

  Cynthia looked up but heard it before she saw it.

  A sound like thunder cracked open and rolled through the air. The Golem leapt—hitting the ground like a falling star.

  Then it moved.

  A streak of brown stone and raw momentum, it thundered forward, and Cynthia’s breath caught in her chest.

  On the cliff, it had seemed smaller. Distant. Contained.

  It wasn’t.

  It was enormous.

  Even while rolling, it stood taller than she did, and easily twice as wide. Its body seemed carved from the same ancient stone as the mountain itself, scarred and weathered by time. Its presence wasn’t just seen, it was felt, like pressure in the air, like the instinct to bow when something greater passes by.

  It reminded her of Lopunny.

  She didn’t move. Just watched, as it streaked by in a blur.

  In the end, the whole migration took barely more than a minute.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  After five, she still couldn’t move. Not until the sound had faded to a distant rumble, like thunder rolling out to sea.

  She’d seen Pokémon migrations before. Of course she had, she was a professor’s granddaughter. But that had always been controlled. Domesticated. At most, a herd of tamed Tauros running laps.

  This?

  This was something else entirely.

  So, she stood, rooted, as the dust settled.

  Not in fear.

  But in something quieter.

  Something older.

  Just wonder.

  Just awe.

  ….

  Cynthia wanted to hold onto that feeling for just a couple of seconds longer. She truly, honestly did. The thunder of the rolling earth, the way the mountain itself had breathed around her, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel something like that again.

  But… well, there were more important matters to attend to.

  Like sharp, pointy ears, ringed with a gentle yellow glow.

  Like glossy black fur so sleek it caught the light in ribbons, outlining a lean, graceful frame.

  Like eyes that shimmered red and ancient and just a little bit judging.

  Johanna’s Umbreon sat a short distance away, one paw lazily lifted, tongue flicking out as it groomed itself with slow, deliberate motions. Its gaze met Cynthia’s: flat, unimpressed, and utterly unconcerned. Like she was an insect buzzing too close to royalty.

  It was, without a doubt, a real Umbreon.

  And it was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing things she had ever seen.

  “She’s…” Cynthia whispered, breath catching. “She’s so beautiful.”

  Umbreon paused mid-groom, paw still lifted, and gave her a long, slow blink. Not quite approval. Not quite disapproval either.

  Maybe… acknowledgment.

  “I’d be careful if I were you,” Myst said dryly from behind. “She might not bite, but that doesn’t make her any less dangerous.”

  Cynthia didn’t look back. She didn’t even blink.

  Of course, Myst would say something like that. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand the way Umbreon’s ears twitched at just the right angle, or how her rings pulsed faintly with energy. He didn’t know how rare it was to see one up close, how impossibly rare it was to meet one.

  “How did you know Umbreon was a girl?” Johanna’s voice drifted in.

  “I wasn’t talking about Umbreon, though?” Myst replied.

  Cynthia paused. Turned. Glared.

  “I swear to god, if you ruin this, I will—” She didn’t finish the sentence. But from the way Myst took a step back, holding up both hands in surrender, she didn’t need to.

  “Kidding—kidding.”

  Cynthia huffed and turned back—only to freeze. Umbreon was staring at her… staring at her hair.

  A beat passed.

  Then another.

  She felt her eyes widen, her hand shooting up to the clips Myst had given her. She’d put them in again after they returned the bikes, after she changed into her new clothes.

  Now?

  Umbreon gave the faintest nod, as if approving the choice.

  Suddenly, she had a whole new appreciation for them.

  The sleek Dark-type rose and padded toward her, every movement fluid and silent.

  Cynthia’s heart pounded, and as Umbreon sniffed her outstretched hand, she had to summon every ounce of self-control not to squeal. Umbreon nodded slightly, finding some unknown criteria acceptable, then gently pressed her face into her palm.

  Behind her, Johanna giggled.

  “Well,” she said, “I think Midna officially likes you. Rare, that. But I guess she thinks you’ve got style.”

  Cynthia grinned, sliding her hands over Midna’s sleek fur. The Umbreon’s eyes narrowed in contentment at the motion, and for a few quiet seconds, Cynthia simply stayed like that, letting Midna get used to her touch. Then, once she felt confident Midna wouldn’t pull away, she inched closer, fingers stroking in long, reverent passes.

  In response?

  Midna purred.

  “And here I thought Eevees were more like dogs,” Myst muttered behind her.

  Cynthia didn’t even glance back, didn’t bother acknowledge his stupid opinion. She just looked up at Johanna and smiled.

  The blue-haired woman smiled back, warm and a little wistful. “You like Umbreons?”

  Cynthia paused, glancing down at Midna.

  She did.

  When she was younger, she’d begged her parents for an Eevee just because she wanted one. Didn’t even care about the other evolutions, she had only liked Umbreon. When she got Queenie as an egg, she cried for days when it didn’t hatch into an Eevee, even after being told it wouldn’t.

  To say Umbreon had been her favorite Pokémon would be an understatement.

  “I always loved them,” she said softly.

  Myst crouched down beside her, then tilted his head. “Are they rare? Or—I mean, I guess I’m asking if Eevees are rare?”

  Ralts mirrored the movement, peering at Midna with the same curious expression. Her horn flickered faintly, like it was trying, and failing, to connect to something.

  “Both are pretty rare,” Johanna admitted easily. “Eevees only decide to breed when they actually fall in love, and after that they stay with their partner for life. Me getting Midna? That was pure luck. She belonged to an old man, but he died, and she got sent into the system. The government didn’t want to deal with people fighting over rare Pokémon, so an old friend asked if I wanted to take her.”

  Her tone turned wry. “Still… let’s just say we weren’t always the best of friends. We got over it, but for a while it was rough.”

  Midna stilled beneath Cynthia’s hand at the mention of her old trainer, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she sighed, then laid her head into Cynthia’s lap.

  “Huh. I mean, I guess she really learned to trust you, then,” Myst said, holding out a hand toward Midna.

  She sniffed him. Then turned her head away, slow and disdainful, and stepped pointedly closer to Cynthia.

  Myst froze in shock.

  Ralts froze in horror.

  “Ralts!” she exclaimed, scandalized, as if she had been rejected.

  Cynthia stared at Myst, his hand still awkwardly hovering midair, then at Ralts. She blinked. Her eyes flicked between the two of them.

  Myst slowly unfroze. Then, catching her expression, his own face flattened.

  “Really? You take pleasure in this?”

  Cynthia didn’t smile at him.

  She grinned.

  “I mean, what goes around comes around, right?”

  Myst sighed and stood, brushing off his knees. He glanced at Johanna, then paused again. His cheeks lit up bright red.

  Cynthia blinked, then followed his eyes.

  Johanna looked back innocently.

  “What, I wasn’t doing anything?”

  Cynthia glanced between them. Her lips pressed together. The way Johanna held his gaze, the way Myst flushed even deeper—

  Her stomach twisted slightly.

  Myst turned sharply away, and Cynthia dropped her gaze too, pushing the feeling aside. It was nothing. And honestly?

  There were more important matters at hand.

  Like Midna nudging back into her palm again, stretching beneath her touch.

  Cynthia smiled, in a definitely not in a creepy way, and ran her hands down the Umbreon’s back until Midna finally pulled away with a flick of her tail.

  The Dark-type walked over to Johanna, then sat down, just staring up at her.

  Johanna sighed. “You’ve been out long enough, huh?” She raised her hand. Midna nodded once before vanishing in a beam of red light.

  “I swear,” Johanna muttered, “you guys are lucky. All of my Pokémon are lazy. Nobody wants to walk with me.”

  Cynthia just shrugged, glancing at the Poké Ball. A brief flicker of envy passed through her.

  Honestly… didn’t Johanna just have it all?

  She forced that thought down the second it appeared.

  “Maybe…” she said instead, focusing back on the important topic. “I have to ask, though, how did you get Eevee to evolve into Umbreon? When I was little, I wanted one so badly, but my grandmother was afraid I’d be disappointed if it turned into something else. So… she didn’t get me one.”

  Johanna shrugged back, “I honestly don’t know. We were just training, trying to perfect a contest move, and then she evolved.” She paused, then grinned slightly, “Should have seen how sad she looked, always told me she was only suited to be a Espeon,” She mimicked a haughty voice, then dropped it with a smirk “Was almost funny, how devastated she was at first, but well, she eventually she got over it.”

  Cynthia felt a sting of quiet defeat. Of course she knew the exact method for evolving Eevee into Umbreon or Espeon wasn’t officially known, but—

  It felt like someone had done a record scratch inside her brain.

  She hadn’t even realized it was something she still wanted to know. It had just been one of those long-stored, quietly buried wishes she’d filed away and forgotten.

  But…

  She turned slowly to Myst, ignoring the way Johanna blinked at her in surprise. Cynthia stepped closer, just a bit too close, and smiled up at him.

  Myst blinked, confused. “What? I’m just saying, I’ll fight back if you keep teasing me—”

  Cynthia cut him off, with a soft smile, taking another step towards him, until she was close enough that she had to tilt her head up to look into his eyes. Myst stared back at her, nonplussed, like he couldn’t quite understand her game.

  That was fine.

  He wasn’t supposed to.

  With a smooth motion, she slid into his side, gently took his arm, and leaned into it, just like she had all that time ago in the cave.

  Myst stiffened instantly.

  Johanna’s eyes grew wide.

  Cynthia ignored the flicker of satisfaction that came with it.

  “Myst,” she said sweetly, “you don’t happen to know how Umbreon evolves, do you?”

  Myst didn’t answer, for a couple of seconds, he just stared down at her. Then, when she didn’t move, he slowly opened his mouth.

  “Ehm… yeah?” he said finally, voice cracking just slightly.

  Johanna’s eyes grew wider.

  Cynthia pressed in just a little bit more, just enough to break whatever fragile composure Myst had left.

  “So,” she said gently, “care to explain it?”

  Myst made a sound somewhere between a wheeze and a death rattle, but, somehow, he still opened his mouth.

  “I mean, like Buneary, it’s a friendship evolution, right?” he began, hesitating.

  Cynthia gave a soft “aha,” and he rushed on.

  “But it has to happen at night. Espeon evolves during the day, but Umbreon only evolves at night.”

  Johanna choked.

  “No, wait, time out! What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, staring at them like they had both grown a second head.

  Myst didn’t seem notice her tone. He just continued in his usual “amnesia voice,”, if you didn’t consider his voice being about fifty precent lighter.

  “How Eevee evolves into Umbreon,” he stated simply.

  Cynthia couldn’t help it. Even though her face felt like it was on fire, she grinned madly as Johanna just stared at him, blankly.

  “No. No, I’m sorry. You can’t just know that,” Johanna said, gesturing wildly between the two of them. “That’s not—That’s not public knowledge! Are you from a clan? Because if they find out you’re leaking this—!”

  She let out another strangled noise.

  Myst replied in a flat, robotic tone, apparently deciding this was way too much emotion to deal with.

  “I don’t think I’m from a clan. If I was, I wouldn’t know. I woke up in Eterna Forest a couple months ago. No memories, except for stuff about Pokémon.”

  Johanna stared back.

  “So what are you saying? That you have amnesia? That you don’t remember anything, except for super specific evolutionary data that nobody else has figured out?” She turned toward Cynthia, exasperated. “Don’t tell me you believe this. Friendship evolution? Evolving because of the time of day? Doesn’t that sound insane to you?”

  Cynthia only half heard the questions.

  Most of her thoughts were occupied by the realization that, for some reason, she’d decided the best way to get answers from Myst was by pressing her chest into his arm.

  She made a small, strangled sound.

  “Cynthia!” Johanna snapped.

  Cynthia blinked back to the present. Then, almost mechanically, she let go of Myst’s arm and stepped away. She took a slow breath and faced Johanna with practiced calm.

  “Sorry. Could you say that again?” she asked politely.

  Johanna didn’t miss a beat. “Myst. Knowledge. He’s insane, right?”

  Cynthia shook her head.

  “No, he isn’t. Everything he’s told me has ended up being correct, even things that aren’t public, things we’ve verified later. If he says something, just assume it’s true.” She said calmly.

  Johanna stared at her like she had lost her mind. “And how exactly would you even know that? I mean, you don’t—”

  Cynthia cut her off.

  “My name is Cynthia Shirona. Heir to the Shirona clan. Granddaughter to former Head Professor Carolina Shirona.” She took a breath. “I promise you, what Myst just told you about Umbreon? It would be crazier if he was wrong.”

  Johanna blinked.

  Then slowly turned to Myst, who looked like he was on the verge of backing into a bush and vanishing from existence.

  She turned back to Cynthia.

  A silent question: Are you serious?

  Cynthia nodded once.

  She ignored the way her face burned, how Myst looked like someone had set off a Fire Stone under his skin, and that Johanna stared at her like she’d completely lost her mind.

  Because honestly?

  This was a victory.

  …

  “Ralts.”

  Johanna stirred the pot, looking blankly at the food it contained, like she couldn’t decide if the world really made sense anymore.

  “Ralts.”

  Broken.

  Myst sat beside her, slumped forward, eyes fixed on the dirt. Ralts chirped and squeaked around him like a tiny bird, fluttering nervously, trying everything to get his attention.

  Also broken.

  “Ralts.”

  As for herself?

  She felt her fingers digging into her cheeks as she wondered how she was ever going to look anyone in the eye again.

  What had she been thinking?

  “Ralts.”

  There had been exactly zero need to do any of that. She could’ve just asked. Just, asked. Like a normal person. Sure, she would’ve gotten teased. Maybe a little.

  But now?

  She let her fingers slide down her face and peeked sideways at a nearby tree. Maybe if she climbed high enough, she could—

  “Ralts!”

  Listen!

  A pulse of frustration surged through the air. With a high-pitched yelp of psychic exasperation, Ralts exploded in a burst of energy, purple light washing across the camp, just enough to knock Myst clean off his rock.

  Cynthia and Johanna both whipped their heads around, but Myst was already rolling upright, landing on his feet with a grunt.

  Ralts stared at Myst in pure horror, frozen, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. As Myst brushed himself off, she shuffled backward a step, trembling, eyes wide.

  “You—” he started.

  Ralts squeezed her eyes shut.

  Myst stopped himself. Then sighed. He looked down at her, ran a hand through his hair, and crouched beside her.

  “Ralts, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t even get a scratch.”

  Ralts looked up at him, her horn flickering nervously, tears shining in her eyes.

  Cynthia felt her heart crack at the sight, and judging by the way Johanna looked ready to chuck her ladle at Myst’s face, she wasn’t the only one.

  Still, Myst just smiled gently, reached forward and ruffled the little teal cap on Ralts’ head, like it was hair.

  “Seriously, what am I going to do with you?”

  Ralts blinked up at him, eyes glassy, but she smiled, just a little.

  Then she paused.

  Her horn pulsed faintly, and she took a nervous step back.

  Myst just grinned wider.

  “You know,” he said, tilting his head, “this whole thing gave me some inspiration. I think I finally have a good idea for your name.”

  “Ralts?” she squeaked nervously.

  Myst’s eyes sparkled.

  Ralts braced herself.

  “How are you doing, Navi?” he said with mock solemnity, like he’d just dropped the greatest name in history.

  Silence.

  Johanna blinked.

  Ralts blinked.

  Cynthia blinked.

  “Ralts… Ralts?”

  That wasn’t… that bad?

  in character. Myst and Cynthia are meant to be unreliable narrators, but I don't want that to be an excuse for stupid actions that they shouldn't make. They should make stupid decisions that make sense for their characteres, and not for the narrative. (BTW: You are meant to be able to read the fic without really thinking too hard about their unreliable narrations)

  out of character moments. If something is particularly outrageous, I usually try to fix it. I have rewritten large parts of this fic before, and I am willing to do it again. If you bring flaws up, there is a chance I will agree, especially if you do it in a nice way.