Myst let his fingers sink into the dense muscle of Rei’s leg, working through the stubborn tension coiled beneath her fur. The little bunny let out a sharp, pained sound, but instead of pulling back, he pressed in deeper. The first time he’d heard that noise, it had stopped him cold, but, well, now he knew better. Rei wasn’t asking him to stop, she was asking him to keep going.

  Harder, preferably.

  His thumbs dug into the tight knot along her calf, and Rei’s body eased under his touch, ears flattening back in relief as the tension bled out of her frame.

  “Feels good?” he murmured, leaning into the pressure.

  A shiver rippled down her body, fur trembling under his touch, before she sagged against the ground as though melting around his fingers.

  “Bunn.”

  Yes.

  He kept the pressure steady for a few more seconds before shifting to her other leg. With movements that had grown more practiced, he ran his fingers through the thick fur, searching for the next knot.

  When Cynthia had first mentioned massaging Pokémon, he’d been skeptical. Or, maybe skeptical wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t that he doubted her, but more that he couldn’t imagine how it would even work in practice. Even he knew a Pokémon’s muscles were far denser than a human’s. The kind of pressure needed to make progress would shred his hands.

  And, well, he hadn’t exactly been wrong.

  Every push sent the strain biting into his palms, the muscles beneath his thumbs fighting back against him. Even when he leaned his full weight into it, each press carried a dull ache that crept up his hands and wrists. It wasn’t just tiring, it hurt, sharp and stubborn, like the tension was daring him to quit. Still, there was a reason he didn’t.

  The benefits were just too damn good.

  Better stamina. Faster recovery. Greater flexibility. When he’d asked, Cynthia had rattled off the list without hesitation, each point stacking higher than the last. Sure, she’d admitted the gains weren’t dramatic on their own, but he could see the writing on the wall. Stack enough “small” improvements together, and they became anything but small.

  And really, the true prize wasn’t even the here-and-now benefits. It was prevention. The fact that diligent care could blunt the slow grind of damage that constant training carved into a Pokémon’s body, keeping a lot of common injuries from ever taking root. That alone made it invaluable, something every serious trainer should probably work into their routine.

  His hands kept up their practiced rhythm almost automatically, kneading Rei’s muscles as his thoughts drifted. Lifting his head slightly, his gaze found Cynthia across their makeshift training field.

  Of course, as Johanna had pointed out, hardly anyone seemed to know that. Not unless they’d spent too many late nights buried in anatomy texts the way he had.

  Myst’s smile lingered as his eyes moved across the clearing, locking onto Cynthia perched atop Queenie’s back.

  She looked like she might have slept… thirty minutes, maybe. Dark circles shadowed beneath her gray eyes, her usually impeccable posture sagging as she tried to work on Queenie’s shoulders. Judging by the unimpressed look on the dragon’s face, though, “tried” was probably the operative word.

  “Gab—Gabite.” Queenie rumbled, punctuating it with a cavernous yawn.

  Too weak.

  Cynthia didn’t react to the protest, eyes instead fixed on some random rock off in the distance, her mind clearly a million miles away.

  In some sense, it was a look he’d seen a hundred times before. The same distant expression she wore when she trailed off after recounting some bit of history. The same thoughtful silence she fell into whenever he surprised her with one of his “special” pieces of knowledge. The same calculating stare she wore while quietly planning her next battle.

  But right now? He was almost certain she was thinking about none of those things. After all, even he had only managed to concentrate on massaging Rei for what felt like a couple of seconds at a time.

  Myst raised his free hand and just… looked at it.

  Compared to yesterday it didn’t look any different. Long fingers, somewhat slender for a guy, nails rough at the edges and probably in need of filing. Nothing had changed.

  And yet—the grin he had tried to suppress broke out again before he could stop it, this time wide enough that it almost hurt.

  Holding hands. It should be so ordinary. So simple. It was the kind of thing kids freaked out over in primary school. After all, it wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t a confession, it wasn’t even anything that needed to be romantic.

  Hell, considering how many times he’d told himself to hold off on anything even resembling romance, it shouldn’t have felt like a good thing.

  But it did.

  It really, really did.

  And so he couldn’t help grinning like a kid.

  From below him, Rei gave a sharp grunt, and before he could shake himself out of his thoughts, the Buneary pushed herself upright, brushing at the fluff of her skirt-like fur. She shot him an annoyed look, one that quickly twisted into outright disgust once she realized why he’d stopped the massage. With a huff, she shook her head and padded off toward where Navi was training.

  Myst flushed, offering a sheepish smile.

  “You don’t want to finish it?”

  Rei didn’t bother turning around.

  “Bunn...” She shook her head. “Buneary.”

  You… too distracted.

  Myst sighed softly and pushed himself half to his feet.

  Well, Rei wasn’t wrong. He had been distracted, thinking about everything other than what he was supposed to. Just because he wasn’t scared of his upcoming battle with Flint didn’t mean he could afford to take it lightly. There was a reason he’d woken up early, and it wasn’t to sit here daydreaming instead of actually making a plan.

  He paused, one hand still braced against the ground.

  Then again… that hadn’t really been the reason he had woken up early, had it?

  Without thinking, his eyes flicked toward Cynthia.

  And froze.

  Blue met grey.

  For a heartbeat, neither of them moved… And, as the heartbeat became two and three Cynthia’s cheeks slowly colored under his gaze, the faint blush spreading as their eyes locked and refused to let go.

  Then again, he had a feeling he didn’t look much different himself.

  He pushed himself fully to his feet, then let them carry him toward Cynthia. She hurriedly turned away, and Myst had to bite back a smile at the flustered motion.

  When he’d woken up this morning, he’d told himself not to read too much into yesterday. To be ready for Cynthia to brush it off. To be ready to pretend nothing had changed.

  That resolution had lasted maybe five minutes—just long enough for him to crawl out of his tent and meet her eyes. Because he could feel it. Something had shifted. A barrier he hadn’t even realized existed had quietly broken.

  He had never been completely sure about Cynthia’s feelings. And, honestly, he still wasn’t. But he couldn’t lie to himself either. Holding her hand, feeling her lean into his side—

  Yeah, that had felt like confirmation.

  Not that she loved him.

  Not even that she had a crush.

  But at least that she was interested.

  His smile curled upwards.

  And that mattered, because he’d never really been sure before. No matter how Johanna teased or acted around them, some part of him had always assumed that, even though he liked Cynthia, that she couldn’t possibly feel the same. That her interest was just curiosity. That it was his knowledge she was interested in, not him.

  Still, he wasn’t clueless.

  Or, well, not that clueless.

  If yesterday had just been her being friendly. If he’d misread that, misread today. If she was only interested in his knowledge or something…

  Yeah, at that point he was swearing off girls for the rest of his life.

  As he drew closer, Cynthia glanced back, then instantly spun around when she realized he was heading her way.

  Like focusing on Queenie’s shoulders was somehow less suspicious than just acknowledging him.

  Queenie let out a low, frustrated groan at the weak grip. Before Cynthia could react, the dragon slipped easily out of her grip, rose to her feet, and turned. With a sharp snort, she planted her taloned hands firmly on Cynthia’s shoulders and spun her around.

  Cynthia let out a startled sound as she stumbled forward.

  “You—” Cynthia started, but whatever complaint she meant to give died halfway out of her throat as Queenie shoved her again, expression flat, exasperated, and entirely unimpressed.

  Cynthia stumbled forward, straight into Myst’s chest.

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  He caught her instinctively, hands steadying her shoulders as she bounced off him. For a breath, she froze, eyes wide, her cheeks flushing hot before she hurriedly stepped back.

  “You want something?” she asked, wrapping her arms under her chest.

  Myst arched a brow, smirk tugging at his lips. “What do you mean, want something? I thought we agreed you’d help me talk strategy before my fight with Flint, but the second we find a place to train, you tell me to start the massage routine, then scurry off to work on Queenie?” He shook his head theatrically. “Who are you, and what have you done with Cynthia? Because I know the Cynthia I know would never miss an opportunity to discuss battle prep.”

  Cynthia paused at his voice, sent another glare toward Queenie, then drew a steadying breath and looked back at him. “You know it’s not like that. It’s just that a massage before battle is probably the single best preparation you could make. It improves blood flow, makes muscles more responsive, and I’ve even found studies that show—”

  “Okay, but what part of that means we can’t even do it within ten meters of each other? You know, so we could actually talk shop while doing it.”

  Cynthia’s mouth snapped shut, hesitation spreading across her face like a ripple. “Well… you aren’t that familiar with it yet, right? I thought you might want to just focus first, before we started going over—”

  She paused, cutting herself short. Then, with no warning and for absolutely no reason, she sighed and delivered the most heinous, undeserved, downright barbaric insult known to mankind.

  “Idiot.”

  Myst held up a hand to hide his grin, staggering back dramatically with the other pressed over his heart as if struck by a mortal wound.

  “Idiot? Me? Such a cruel, utterly unjustified insult! What foul deed could I possibly have committed to earn this title? I’ll have you know—”

  He broke off as Cynthia hit him with her patented one-more-word glare.

  And so, with a shrug, utterly victorious as usual, he continued, “No, but seriously, I can multitask, trust me. I mean, I don’t think massaging Rei’s legs is so complicated that my brain’s going to short-circuit if I also talk about battle prep.”

  Cynthia stared at him for a few seconds before the tension in her shoulders eased. A quiet giggle slipped out. “Alright, fine. I did say I’d help you strategize, so, what did you want to go over?”

  He grinned again, opened his mouth—then promptly shut it as the realization hit.

  What did he want to discuss about the upcoming fight with Flint?

  Honestly, wasn’t that an awfully good question?

  After all, it wasn’t like he had any real strategy he wanted to talk about. Asking her for help yesterday had been an impulse, more excuse than plan. A way to pull her closer, to lean down and whisper in her ear. The words could have been anything, not really the point.

  Sort of like now, really.

  For a moment he racked his brain, but came up blank. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a plan, but more that Cynthia would immediately see it was the same way he always fought. He hadn’t had the time to reinvent anything with Rei or Navi, and an individualized strategy only really worked when you understood your opponent…

  And, well, they had no idea how Flint fought.

  Sure, he’d seen Flint’s roster, but he knew from experience that was less useful than it seemed. Most Pokémon could battle in half a dozen styles after all. Monferno might rely on ranged pressure or close-quarters brawling, and Drifloon was even harder to predict, especially as a Ghost-type.

  Status stacking. Hit-and-run. Drain tank—

  Myst licked his lips, stalling—gaze drifting before settling on Cynthia.

  The silence stretched, and under his unwavering eyes her composure began to crack—blush rising, posture shrinking, fingers tugging at a wayward strand of hair.

  He blinked, the small motion snapping him back just enough to notice. Her expression finally registered.

  She looked almost… shy.

  “Ehm, Myst?”

  It was strange. He’d probably been this close to her a hundred times before, but this time his eyes refused to leave her face. Half a step, that was all it would take, and he could lean down and—

  He strangled the thought before it could go any further.

  What had he just—

  Cynthia, cheeks flushed, puffed her cheeks at his non-reaction—half flustered, half annoyed.

  His heart stopped.

  Desperately, he raised a finger and turned slightly. “A second.”

  Okay, yeah.

  He was cooked.

  Of course, he’d known that more or less since she’d woken up almost in his arms when they found Navi and Roselia. But for some reason he’d kept managing to tell himself he could wait. That they could just stay friends until she reached her goal—and until he managed to stamp “proper human being” on his own forehead. Or whatever he needed to feel like one.

  But it was never going to work, huh?

  Really, the fact that he’d convinced himself otherwise, that he’d wait until his life was sorted before making a move, what a joke. He’d never thought of himself as someone who lied to himself—

  But, damn, if he wasn’t a liar.

  Far from the neat little daydreams where he’d imagine calmly telling her he wasn’t ready for a relationship if she ever asked… she didn’t even need to say anything.

  One look.

  That’s all it took.

  A single shy smile, and his self-control shattered like glass.

  Just like yesterday.

  And, apparently, just like now.

  His drifting gaze caught on Rei and Navi. Rei was stretching, shaking off the last of the massage, while Navi, brow furrowed in concentration, shaped Psychic-type energy into Ghost-type energy with delicate precision. Truly, at least his team could be trusted to actually—

  He blinked as Rei suddenly stopped stretching and instead walked over to a nearby rock, before beginning to funnel her Normal-type energy into the one she had the least training with, Steel.

  His eyes widened and with far more gusto than necessary, he spun back around, a smile stretched way too wide across his face. “Sorry for zoning out! Was just trying to figure out how to say it, but I was overthinking. You know how I was working on a custom move for Rei?”

  Cynthia, halfway through forming a response, paused, then nodded slowly. “Yeah… but what does that have to do with strategizing for Flint?”

  He waved a hand vaguely, as though that explained everything.

  After all that was, truly, an excellent question.

  “It’s… tangentially related.”

  Her brow arched higher.

  He grinned shamelessly. “Anyway, I’m thinking about shelving it. It’s just, since you’re the master of Custom Moves, I want your opinion on my reasoning.”

  Cynthia didn’t answer right away. Her brows furrowed, embarrassment forgotten in favor of something clearly more important. “Okay, I guess we can talk about that. Just… keep in mind, for all that I’m—” she lifted her fingers in air quotes, “—the master of Custom Moves, I might not fully understand your reasoning. At the end of the day, Custom Moves are things you make because they fit your style. I can give perspective, sure, but I might be wrong. It’s not like we see eye-to-eye on every part of how we train our Pokémon.”

  Myst shrugged. “That’s fine.”

  “Well, go on then.”

  “Okay. You know how Rei figured out how to convert her Normal-type energy into Steel after my second battle with Byron?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, because of that, I started teaching her Iron Tail—since that was half of what my custom move needed. But once I actually started trying to figure out how it would fit into her fighting pattern, I realized…”

  Cynthia’s eyes narrowed slightly with understanding, not needing him to finish. “That it wasn’t going to be as useful as you thought? That the move might not be worth the investment?”

  He blinked. “Am I that predictable?”

  “No… or, well, it’s less you and more people in general. The whole ‘this will be the coolest move ever’ idea collapsing once you realize how long it’d take to make it viable? Classic.” Her tone was dry, but her eyes glinted. After a beat, she added, “We haven’t talked much about it, since Rei couldn’t use Steel energy before, but from how you described it… you were aiming for a finisher, right?”

  “I mean, yeah. Pretty much.”

  Cynthia crossed her arms beneath her chest. “Thought so. And since custom moves are usually weaker than standard ones, I’m guessing you were banking on the weight of Steel energy. Which means you were planning to mix it with…” She paused, considering. “…Quick Attack? Or Bounce?”

  Myst stared at her. “…Yeah. Right on the money. Bounce into the air, slam down with Steel energy to multiply the force. But if you guessed that much, I’m sure you also know why I might shelve it.”

  “Could be a lot of reasons…” She pursed her lips. “But if I had to pick one? She doesn’t really need it.”

  “Got it in one.” Myst sighed, glancing at Rei. “Honestly, I knew that when I came up with it. I just thought I could force it to work. It’s only one move, right? And it’s not like Rei never uses something with a longer wind-up. But the more I thought about it, the harder it seemed. Her whole rhythm is chaining attacks, overwhelming with speed. She doesn’t need a giant knockout when she can land three blows in the time her opponent gets one. Building a guillotine-style finisher from scratch, when she might only use it once every ten battles? Not worth it. Learning a normal move takes long enough. Training her to get a Custom Move battle-ready?” He shook his head.

  Cynthia just hummed. “Well, you can probably guess what I’m going to say, then.”

  “You agree?”

  “Definitely. It’s not that a finisher is bad, but like you said, she isn’t helpless without one. Riolu only got Leaf Defense because we needed an answer to Magical Leaf or other scatter-shot attacks. We couldn’t just dodge forever. Rei doesn’t have that kind of gap on offense. Honestly, I’d even say she’s too focused on moves right now. If I were training her, I’d pause and double down on basics, strength, speed, type energy output.” She shrugged. “Not that your approach is wrong. Technical focus works, obviously, but there’s just something satisfying about winning without having to rely on a single trick you know?”

  Myst arched a brow. “Trick?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  He chuckled, then let out a breath. “Honestly, I think I was rushing it. Knowing what was possible blinding me to whether I actually needed it.”

  Cynthia nudged him with her elbow, flashing a slightly too bright smile. “Well, welcome to the world of Custom Moves, where your most of brilliant ideas turn out absolutely useless.” She hesitated, then added, “Though, I did have another guess.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She pointed upward. “The way you described it, isn’t it basically a Steel-type High Jump Kick? A move Rei will learn naturally once she evolves.”

  Myst’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” She dropped her hand and sighed. “Offensive Custom Moves are rare for a reason. They’re weaker on average, but more importantly, odds are a natural move already exists, and it’s better. Sure, Rei won’t get High Jump Kick until she evolves, but once she does? Your Custom Move is close to obsolete, only really usable against Ghost-types. Sometimes it’s worth making one as a stepping stone, but most of the time…” She shook her head.

  Myst pursed his lips at her words, before letting out a sigh.

  A week ago, Cynthia’s words would’ve cut like a dagger—just another reminder of how he was messing up. And, honestly, some of that sting was still there. Frustration bubbling, sharp and sour. The realization he’d overlooked something so basic.

  At the same time…

  He drew in a deep breath, forced the feeling down, and lowered his gaze back to Cynthia with a halfhearted smile tugging at his lips.

  “I guess I should just have her learn Jump Kick, huh?” He tried.

  “I mean, it would probably take a lot less time at least.”

  The words lingered between them, settling into the cavern’s silence. For a few beats, neither spoke and Myst felt his smile grow slightly unstable.

  Normally, their quiet was easy, companionable, something they’d fallen into a hundred times without thought. But this one felt different. Heavier. A little too aware of itself, as if both of them were waiting for the other to break it.

  Cynthia shifted first, gaze dropping to the ground as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Then, with an embarrassed smile, she took a single step back—before pausing.

  “…Was that all?” she whispered, almost low enough that he couldn’t catch the words.

  But he did.

  So he froze.

  His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Cynthia studied him for a couple of seconds before something like disappointment flickered across her face. She turned and—

  He grabbed her hand.

  “Wait.”

  She paused.

  “I—I just…” His throat tightened. He tried again, words tripping over themselves. “Yesterday—uh, that was… I mean, I feel like that—” Heat crawled up his neck, burning his ears.

  Cynthia looked back at him, a faint blush softening her features.

  He stopped for a second.

  God, how was he this freaking pathetic when it came to her?

  Taking a deep breath, he managed to steady himself.

  “Cynthia, I—"

  “Good morning, lovebirds! Hope you’re ready for battle, Myst, because Flint is asking for you! Apparently you both need to be on the field half an hour early to make sure there’s no wasted time.”

  Johanna’s tone bounced in tact with the skip in her step, coming into view with Midna at her side, a grin plastered across her face.

  Cynthia went rigid, her blush spreading fast enough to rival a Flame Wheel. Myst snapped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clicked, feeling his own blush explode over his entire face.

  Johanna halted mid-bounce—locked her eyes onto the scene she’d just walked into.

  For a couple of seconds she didn’t say anything, just stared at them, eyes darting from their faces to his hand gripping hers, then back again, like she couldn’t quite process what she was seeing.

  Then her smile cracked.

  “Wait! Wait! No, no, please ignore me. You’ve got time. Loads of time. Flint just wanted you there early—so impatient, right? We actually have… uh, a bunch of time. Yep. No rush!”

  She waved her hands frantically, taking an awkward step back like she could physically stuff her very existence back ten seconds in time.

  Myst opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, staring at the ground.

  How likely was it to open up and swallow him whole?

  …Right now, preferably.

  And yet, even as the thought burned in his head, he still didn’t let go of Cynthia’s hand.

  Which was probably the reason why Cynthia moved first.

  As if something inside her had just died, her face went stone-cold, the blush vanishing in an instant. With careful precision she slipped free of his grip, gave Johanna a curt nod, then spun on her heel—recalling Queenie in a flash of light.

  He followed her with his eyes as she walked away… only to cover a smile when that walk turned into a full-on sprint toward where Riolu and Roselia were training.

  Johanna just let out a slowly dying wheeze.