Under Spiritomb's pressure, Jyota had no room to manoeuvre. The first round went to Cynthia without much contest.
Steven quietly offered a moment of sympathy to whoever she was scheduled to face next.
Watching as a spectator gave the experience a different quality entirely. When he was on the field himself, it never felt quite this one-sided.
Cynthia recalled Spiritomb and shook hands with Jyota at the centre of the field. Then she turned, spotted Steven in the stands, raised her hand in a V-sign, and grinned.
Steven chuckled and returned the sign.
He met her at the arena exit and they walked together to the Pokémon Center to have Togepi looked at. The damage wasn't serious — Togepi's eggshell-like exterior was tougher than it appeared, and the stat boosts from Ancient Power had helped carry it through. The nurse had it sorted quickly.
"Want to walk around?" Steven asked, as they stepped back outside. The League grounds were lined with stalls during the conference — food, merchandise, the general pleasant noise of a large gathering.
"Yes!" Cynthia laughed and clasped her hands behind her back.
She drifted a little closer to him, and he could see her eyelashes flutter as she tilted her head up.
"So — how did I do today?"
"Like you were cheating," Steven said, with a small, perfectly sincere smile.
Cynthia blinked. "What?"
"Togepi," he clarified. "Metronome, Serene Grace, Ancient Power — it bordered on unfair."
Her cheeks puffed. "Just tell me whether it was good or not!"
"It was good," Steven said, without missing a beat.
The puffed cheeks deflated.
"That's more like it."
Steven smiled at the reaction and glanced sideways at the people they were passing, several of whom had clearly recognised Cynthia from the match. "I think you may be starting to understand what my situation feels like."
Togepi's performance had been more than a little memorable. Spiritomb finishing opponents in a single hit hadn't helped keep the attention low.
"So what?" Cynthia said airily. "I'm not bothered."
Anyone who tried to interrupt her afternoon would find out why.
Garchomp, had it been present, would have had thoughts about this. It always did.
"Oh — that!" Cynthia had stopped in front of an ice cream cart. She was studying the flavours with a seriousness most people reserved for important decisions.
"Last time I didn't get one," she murmured, tapping her chin.
A full thirty seconds passed.
"I'll have milk and chocolate."
Steven looked at the flavours. "Same, then."
"It's cold," Cynthia announced, the moment the first taste hit.
"It's winter," Steven said.
"Which means it won't melt." She licked the scoop with great satisfaction. "So you can take your time. It's the ideal season for ice cream, actually."
Steven laughed quietly. "Do you always eat ice cream in winter?"
"I like it all year," Cynthia said, smiling up at him. "But especially because the first ice cream I ever had was the one you gave me. When we first met."
Steven looked at her.
"...I gave you ice cream when we met?"
"You did."
He thought back. He had not gone out much as a child. He couldn't place a memory of it. He turned the question over, and it refused to resolve.
"I genuinely don't remember that," he said, puzzled.
Cynthia giggled. "Of course you don't. You wouldn't remember something like that." She took his arm and pulled him onward. "Come on."
Steven followed, still faintly frowning.
I gave her ice cream? When?
He couldn't get the answer to sit still, and eventually the question dissolved under the noise and movement of the stalls around them, and the more immediate fact of Cynthia's company.
They were back at the Pokémon Center by evening for the draw.
Cynthia's second-round opponent was a newcomer from Sandgem Town. The match was scheduled for the following afternoon.
It also happened to fall on the day Steven needed to leave for Hoenn.
He was in his usual spot the next day, hands on the stone railing, watching the battlefield from above.
"Gastrodon is going to end this before it really starts," he murmured.
"Gastrodon — Muddy Water!" One arm raised, one clean command.
Muddy Water swept the field. Emboar went down. Cynthia took the second round.
The gap between Cynthia and her opponents in these early stages was considerable. Every Pokémon on her team below Togepi was, at minimum, operating at Champion class. The conference bracket hadn't yet produced anyone who could close that distance.
Steven thought about the record. The Indigo Plateau swept by Red and Green in their era. The Hoenn League by himself. The Lily of the Valley Conference, at this rate, by Cynthia. The Lumiose Conference, years from now, by Diantha's Gardevoir. The Galar Championship Cup by Leon's Charizard.
There was a pattern there. Generational talent had a way of turning conferences into formalities.
"You're leaving now, aren't you?"
Cynthia stood beside him. She wasn't smiling.
"I'll be back for the finals," Steven said. "That's a promise." He rested a hand on her head. "You can do this. You don't need me standing here for that."
She nodded, slowly, without saying anything.
She had grown accustomed to him being nearby. She hadn't fully noticed until now how much she had.
"There's still some time before my flight," Steven said. "Walk with me?"
Cynthia had held nothing back in her second match. Gastrodon had taken all three of her opponent's Pokémon in one sweep. It had been the fastest way to finish, and she had reasons to want the afternoon free.
"Yes."
"And stop making that face." Steven reached over and pinched her cheek lightly. "I'm going back to Hoenn for a while. I'm not vanishing."
Cynthia's expression shifted, indignant.
"When Cynthia becomes Sinnoh's Champion," Steven continued, releasing her cheek, "and starts exploring ruins — I could come along. I'd like that."
"Is that actually allowed?" she asked. "Champions and Elite Four members — don't they have too many obligations?"
"That's what the Elite Four are for," Steven said. "Delegation. And for what it's worth, archaeological research contributes meaningfully to our understanding of the Pokémon world — it's a legitimate reason to travel. The Chairman would find it difficult to argue with."
It was, at the very least, a considerably better justification than telling the Committee Chairman he wanted to go look for interesting rocks.
"Oh," Cynthia said, as though something had clicked into place. "So it can work like that."
She sounded genuinely enlightened.
Inside the Sinnoh League headquarters, some distance from the conference venue, a man in a burgundy suit and neat glasses looked up from his book.
"Achoo!"
He set the book down. He looked around his large, quiet office and sighed at how empty it felt.
"I do hope whoever wins this conference is ready to take the Champion's seat," he said to no one in particular. "That would help enormously."
He looked at the documents stacked on his desk — an impressive height, as always — and felt the familiar weight of them.
He opened the topmost file.
"I just have a feeling," he murmured, "that things are about to become complicated."
He couldn't explain why.
He turned the page.
Above his head, had anyone been watching, the atmosphere carried the distinct quality of an incoming headache.