Night had fallen over Akala Island.
Steven leaned against the railing of his second-floor balcony, looking up at the full moon hanging bright and still above the treeline.
"Metagross…"
Inside the room, Metagross held a paperback novel — My Childhood Sweetheart Fell in Love with Me — though it had not turned a page in some time. It glanced toward the window with something close to puzzlement.
This did not add up.
It made no sense whatsoever.
The book described it clearly:
'When I felt lonely, her arrival was like a ray of sunshine, warming my cold heart — the salvation I had been waiting for.'
Metagross was thoroughly perplexed.
It had noticed Steven's shift in mood some time ago — that quiet withdrawal, the uncharacteristic stillness. Rather than approaching him, Metagross had opted to observe from a distance, pretending to read while watching Steven's every movement through the corner of its eye.
At one point, it had even used Psychic — subtly, carefully — to angle Cynthia's gaze toward Steven.
That maneuver had nearly earned it a Dragon Claw from Garchomp.
Nearly.
Metagross was stronger. It had been fine.
But logically, Steven should not be wearing that expression — that quiet, conflicted look of someone trying to work something out. What had gone wrong? Which variable had it miscalculated?
Steven, still at the railing, looked down at his own hand. His fingers curled slowly, as though reaching for something that wasn't there.
Metagross's eyes lit up.
Ah.
It closed the novel and shut its eyes, beginning to settle into Calm Mind.
It had been thinking about this from entirely the wrong angle. Now that it had found the correct direction, the path ahead was considerably clearer.
Hmph. As expected of me.
The brilliant and powerful Metagross.
…Although, was that last sentence grammatically sound?
Hmph. Regardless — still the smartest.
Metagross did not often express much outwardly, but internally, its mind was lively with thought. Calm Mind was one of the few things it could genuinely practice indoors; for a Psychic-type, it was never wasted effort.
"This month should probably count as a settling-in period," Steven murmured to himself.
"Steven? Is something wrong?"
He turned at the voice.
On the adjacent balcony, Cynthia had appeared — graceful even in the casual ease of the evening, her head tilted slightly to one side as she watched him with quiet curiosity. Her golden hair was still damp, spread loosely behind her shoulders.
"Nothing," Steven said, offering a small smile. "I was just thinking how peaceful it is here at night."
His gaze moved to her hair, and his expression shifted to something more practical.
"It's windy tonight. You'll get a headache if you stay out here with wet hair."
"I'm fine," Cynthia said, laughing softly. "You're out here too, aren't you?"
She had already noticed the shift in him — had noticed it from the moment she stepped away to shower. He had been standing at that railing the entire time, so absorbed in thought that he hadn't even registered her earlier peek.
Inside Cynthia's room, Garchomp heard the exchange and let out a quiet, disgruntled sound.
How could dear Cynthia possibly get a headache!
If anyone should get a headache, it ought to be that blue-haired trainer!
…No. If something happened to him, Cynthia would be upset.
Ugh. So annoying.
Garchomp slumped onto the floor, pulling its knees up in frustration, and redirected its grievances toward Metagross instead.
Why can't the iron cross-spider be the one to suffer?!
"Then I suppose I'll stop loitering out here," Steven said with a quiet laugh, "and come help you dry your hair instead."
He cast a brief, sidelong glance through the glass door at Metagross, who sat eyes-closed in meditation.
Nothing Metagross did escaped Steven's notice, of course.
But the two of them were still navigating the early, careful stages of whatever this was between them — both of them cautious, both of them measured. Steven accepted that as natural. He didn't press it.
After he stepped inside from the balcony, a small pink shape drifted silently through the open air where he had been standing.
Hmm?
Metagross caught the impression of it — just a flicker of presence — before it slipped away.
Odd.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
Steven concentrated on working the hair dryer through the long fall of Cynthia's golden hair, careful and methodical.
On the floor nearby, Garchomp lay with both hands pressed firmly over its head, eyes screwed shut.
Can't see anything. Can't hear anything.
Classic self-deception.
"Steven." Cynthia's voice was direct. "Is something on your mind?"
Before he could answer, she reached back and caught his free hand, turning to meet his eyes.
Steven switched off the hair dryer.
"We're together now," she said quietly. "I don't want you keeping things from me."
She stood, and her arms wrapped around his waist — drawing close, pressing herself against him entirely. Steven could smell the faint warmth of her hair, the clean scent of the shampoo she'd just used.
On the floor, Garchomp quietly shuffled around to face the wall.
Can't see. Can't hear. Don't know anything.
…Where is my Poké Ball?!
Garchomp was genuinely worried it might lose control of itself.
The Alola nights were warm, and Cynthia was in light pajamas — dark, thin fabric. Steven was very aware of this. Her chin rested gently against his shoulder, her arms holding him with quiet certainty.
His mind went entirely blank.
The difficulty level had spiked without warning.
"I was just thinking," he said eventually, steadying himself, "that I might not be the most capable Champion."
He placed one hand on her back — only one, because the other still held the hair dryer, which he had not thought to put down.
Even now, with Cynthia at such close range, he didn't say what was really on his mind. Perhaps that was selfish. If he was going to be selfish, he thought, he might as well commit to it.
He was aware of his own limitations — particularly when it came to paperwork, forms, administrative duties. The mountain of documentation that came with the Champion's title was not exactly his strength.
But in the moments that truly mattered, Steven did not hesitate. He would stand between Hoenn and whatever threatened it. That was his responsibility as Champion. Not just of Hoenn — as Champion of the Pokémon League, he felt a wider obligation, to stand for those who needed it, so long as they hadn't done something unforgivable.
Cynthia's voice was a murmur near his ear.
"I believe Steven will be recognized as a Champion by everyone."
A pause.
"So stop worrying about it."
Another pause, quieter still.
"And if they don't recognize you — then just be a Champion recognized by me."
Steven smiled slightly.
"In that case, maybe I should retire and spend my days cooking at home, waiting for you to get back."
Cynthia lifted her head immediately, expression bright with amusement. "You absolutely could! I'd support you!"
Then, narrowing his eyes: "You just don't want to learn how to cook, do you?"
"That's none of your business."
Steven chose not to point out, at this particular moment, that he was considerably wealthier than her. His mind was operating at full capacity and he had no interest in derailing what was happening.
The two of them stood close, the mood shifting into something quieter. Neither spoke. They closed their eyes slowly, drawn together by gradual degrees — until their noses brushed, and then their lips met.
The next morning, Steven woke in his own room.
He and Cynthia had talked well into the night, but his internal clock did not care — it pulled him awake at the same hour it always did. Beside the bed, Metagross stirred at the movement, opening one eye.
Steven washed up and walked down the hall to Cynthia's door. His hand rose to knock —
— and stopped.
He lowered it.
"Let her sleep," he murmured to himself, smiling faintly.
Downstairs, he shared a quiet breakfast with his Pokémon, then recalled them to their Poké Balls once they'd eaten their fill.
Today's destination: Mount Hokulani.
The second-highest peak in the Alola Region, situated near Route 10 on Ula'ula Island — on the eastern edge of the region. Ula'ula and Akala Islands were not far apart, and Steven was currently near the boundary of Akala, putting him conveniently close.
He mounted Metagross and set off.