Ash and Gary talked the rest of the way home. At the fork where the road split toward Oak's Laboratory and Ash's house, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
Ash reached his front door. Before he could touch the handle, it swung open.
Misty's face filled the doorway, bright and beaming. "Welcome back."
"How did you know I was here?" He hadn't knocked.
"Intuition." She tilted her head and smiled.
"She's been standing by the door since lunch." Brock's voice drifted from the kitchen, spatula in hand, apron on, delivering the truth with zero hesitation.
No intuition. Just a girl who couldn't sit still.
Misty's cheeks coloured, but the smile didn't falter. "I just couldn't wait, okay? Come in. Dinner's almost done."
She pulled him inside by the hand. They'd been together less than a week before Dragon Island had separated them for three days. In the entire span of their journey, this was the longest they'd been apart. Before they were a couple, the distance wouldn't have registered. Now it felt like a month.
They settled on the sofa. Misty tucked her legs beneath her and turned to face him.
"Tell me everything. What did you catch?"
"A Dragonair. And listen, this Dragonair..." Ash launched into the full account, hands moving, voice climbing. Every detail. The grounded Dragonair who couldn't fly. The teaching session. The breakthrough. Deepwyrm's cave. The breathing technique. The Mega Stone.
When he reached the part about receiving a Dragonite Mega Stone as a gift from a God Pokémon, Misty's jaw dropped.
The full picture was staggering. A Dragonair with hidden elite talent, personally watched over by the island's ancient Patriarch. A breathing technique passed down from a God level Dragonite that would accelerate Dragon-type growth for the rest of Dragonair's life. And a Mega Stone that would let Dragonair reach Mega Dragonite once it completed its evolution.
The entire Dragonite package, earned in three days.
Luck was part of it. But luck alone didn't explain the Mega Stone. Deepwyrm hadn't given it to Ash because he was fortunate. He'd given it because Ash had seen a struggling Dragonair, stopped what he was doing, and helped it fly. The reward followed the kindness, not the other way around.
Dinner was ready. At the table, Ash gave Delia and Brock a condensed version of the Dragon Island story, then dropped the next piece of news: he was leaving for the Orange Islands tomorrow.
"Already?" Delia set down her chopsticks. "You just got back."
The reluctance in her voice was the kind every mother carried. When the child was home, you couldn't wait for some peace. The moment they announced they were leaving, the house felt too big.
"I have to. Lugia Jr. needs to find its family, and Professor Oak asked me to deliver a Poké Ball to a colleague. The sooner we go, the better."
"I understand." Delia rose from the table. "I'll pack your things."
Ash didn't argue. Politeness with his own mother would have been stranger than the request itself.
The "packing" turned into an operation. Delia vanished into various rooms and emerged with an ever-growing mountain of supplies. Lunch boxes she'd prepare fresh in the morning. Clothes. Toiletries. A new sleeping bag. A tent. A pillow. A blanket. Pots. Pans. Items Ash didn't recognise and items he was certain he'd never use.
All of it went into the Spatial Backpack.
Ash and Pikachu watched from the dinner table, food halfway to their mouths, as the pile grew and the backpack consumed it all.
"This is... a lot, Mom."
"What did you think I bought you an oversized Spatial Backpack for?" Delia's hands never stopped moving. "To fill it."
By the time she finished, the backpack's entire capacity was spoken for. She'd organised everything by section, because of course she had.
"Lunch boxes are in the upper-left compartment. Tent, sleeping bag, pyjamas, pillow, and blanket are on the right side. If you have the chance, set up the tent and sleep on the pillow. Sleeping bags are fine for a night or two, but they're terrible for your neck over long stretches."
"Bottom section has your cooking supplies. Seasonings, pots, pans. Remember to eat proper meals. Meat and vegetables every time, no skipping. Your body is still developing, and I don't care how strong you think you are."
If this had been six months ago, Ash would have said "yeah, yeah, I know" and escaped upstairs before she finished the sentence.
He didn't move. He sat on the sofa and listened to every word, responding to each instruction with a mix of patience and quiet sincerity.
Delia noticed. A small, surprised warmth spread across her face. When had her boy learned to sit still? Travelling had changed him in ways she was still discovering.
"Everything's packed. One last thing, and this is the important one." Her voice shifted. Softer. "Be careful out there. Whatever you do, don't take unnecessary risks. Promise me."
None of the packing instructions mattered next to this. Lunch boxes and sleeping bags could be replaced. Her son couldn't.
"I know, Mom. I promise." Ash stood. "Are you done? We're leaving early, so I should get some sleep."
"Go. Misty, Brock, you two get to bed as well. I'll handle the rest."
Mr. Mime stepped forward and thumped its chest. I'll help. Go sleep.
Brock started to offer his hands, read the room, and retreated. "Thank you, Auntie. Good night."
Misty followed. Her room was Ash's room. Bunk beds, same arrangement as always. They'd shared sleeping quarters throughout the entire journey without a second thought.
Tonight felt different.
They walked in and stood in the middle of the familiar space, and it was as if neither of them had been here before. The same beds. The same walls. A different atmosphere.
"Well... if that's everything, I'm going to sleep." Misty placed Togepi on her bedside table, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal.
Ash was looking at her.
"Why are you staring at me like that? Stop it! I'm going to bed!"
"I never noticed before. You're really pretty, Misty. When you're older, you'll be as stunning as any of your sisters. Maybe more."
Misty's brain stalled.
That sentence. From Ash. The boy whose romantic awareness had the depth of a puddle. The boy who had needed her to confess first because he would have gone to his grave without figuring it out on his own.
That Ash had just called her pretty and compared her favourably to her sisters, unprompted, while making eye contact.
"Since when can you say things like that?" Suspicion overrode flattery. This wasn't right. This wasn't Ash-like behaviour. The sun didn't rise in the west.
"I've always been able to say things! Good night!" Ash huffed, walked past her toward his bed, and as he passed, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
Then he scrambled onto his bunk and pulled the blanket over his head.
Misty stood frozen. Her hand drifted to the spot on her cheek where his lips had been.
Her brain tried to process this and returned an error. Her body felt like it had been struck by a low-voltage Thunderbolt. Not the melting, world-ending sensation of their first kiss on the cliff, but close.
Under his blanket, Ash's face was burning. His heart hammered against his ribs at a pace that had nothing to do with combat or training.
Does the advice from the Chat Group actually work? Because this feels extremely weird.
He'd consulted the group's self-proclaimed romance expert before leaving Dragon Island. The smooth compliment, the casual cheek kiss before bed, all of it had been scripted by someone with far more experience than Ash possessed. The strategy was sound in theory. In practice, Ash felt like he'd swallowed a live Voltorb.
Whether the expert's methods were reliable remained an open question. But Misty had gone quiet below, which probably meant something had landed. Whether it was a good landing or a crash landing, he'd find out tomorrow.
A soft "good night" floated up from the lower bunk.
Ash nudged Pikachu. The electric mouse grumbled, wriggled out of the warm blanket, dashed to the door to flip the light switch, and bolted back into bed before the cold could register. January temperatures had hit freezing. Leaving a warm blanket for any reason was an act of heroism.
Darkness settled over the room. Ash lay on his back, eyes closed, and slipped into the Chat Group.
Ascender Ash: The technique you taught me. Does it actually work? Saying those things felt wrong.
He'd changed his handle after winning the Conference. Novice didn't fit anymore.
Harem King Ash: Wrong how? Let me guess. She froze up and couldn't move?
Ascender Ash: She looked like she'd been hit by Thunder Wave.
Harem King Ash: Perfect. That means it's working. Those words and that move don't match your usual personality at all, which is exactly why they hit so hard. Trust the process. Stick with my programme and I guarantee results.