CHAPTER 336

There was something uniquely unbearable about awkward elevator rides, the kind of discomfort you couldn't experience anywhere else. Maybe it was the cramped space or the endlessly looping, terrible music. Or the way I kept glancing to the side at Melody because of the tight confined space and how she kept tapping her heel on the floor. For what felt like the thousandth time, she clenched her temples, and the motion was accompanied by the muttering of a coming migraine. My mind drifted, tempted by the thought of breaking free and soaring away on Princess just to avoid the weight of today's responsibilities. Running would unfortunately get me fired, though.

"Any tips?" I mumbled, fingers fiddling together. "I mean, what should I even say?"

"Just stay quiet unless directly spoken to. Mr. Remington's not someone you can talk to without thinking," Melody warned. Out of her purse, she flicked open a tiny compact mirror and fixed up her already-perfect hairdo as if it needed to be adjusted. It looked perfect to me already; the light brown locks framed her face like they had been carefully sculpted that way without her input. A single strand dared to fall out of place, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear, her movements precise and measured. She snapped the mirror shut with a soft click and sighed. "I just don't understand how a person can be this… unpredictable."

"Haha…" I let out an awkward laugh and scratched the back of my neck. "I'm just trying my best."

Mel sighed again. "I know."

"And I mean, wasn't the battle great?" I asked with a slight lean, inching forward. I'd watched over the footage already, having downloaded it on my phone before leaving the Gym. Despite there being plenty of cringe moments—instances where I or my Pokemon had lost their character or once again missing obvious traps that could have been spotted like that Trevenant's trick, I hadn't felt the awful self-loathing that usually came from analyzing myself. Granted, there was some loathing, and it most likely would have been different if I lost, but…

Honestly, right now? Who cared if I lost? I'd do another thousand battles like these if I could. It was too bad Gardenia would be busy from now on.

Kicking my feet and lamenting at how long this elevator was—seriously, how tall was this tower—I continued, "I'm sure it'll sell… there are plenty of great moments. And Gardenia's tough! It's not like she went easy on me; I beat her starter! Kinda. I mean she was holding back skill-wise, but it's still, like, a statement." Gardenia's Roserade had been far more versatile than I'd expected her to be. I was willing to bet her red bouquet could control flames as well as her blue one could control water, which was an amazing counter to fire types if she needed it. "No one can say I was just handed a victory over."

Melody's lips flattened, and she crossed her arms. "It isn't about if your battle was of an appropriate level or not. Objectively speaking, you were given an advantage no other trainer will get," she said, her tone a little dry. I didn't blame her, considering I once again had screwed up Poketch's plans. "Oh boy, they are going to be up in arms."

I tried not to wince. "Yeah." For example, Aubri had already complained about me getting unfair advantages due to my closeness to the League a while back. This would just reinforce her worldview and make her sour on me again. "I guess there's no way around it."

"You start dating Maylene and you suddenly get to fight a Gym Leader twice? It'd be a miracle if we could even spin this any other way."

"I haven't even gone public with that yet!" Though I had been planning to today before talking to Melody about it.

"People aren't blind, Grace," she chided. "You're not being discreet at all. We let it slide because you were doing a good job until now, but—"

The elevator finally dinged, and the doors opened to a wide room made of darkened tiles like obsidian. I quickly paced behind Melody, who walked in large strides that were hard to keep up with. I'd be meeting Remington McMillan for the second time today, and needless to say, I was nervous. That was part of why I'd tried to justify myself to Melody since I'd told her the news earlier today. My hip felt light with only Angel and Buddy attached to my belt, and I adjusted my Mimi-necklace for reassurance. In front of the doors was a straight-laced secretary at a desk sitting with a bored Kadabra levitating a strange, glowing brain teaser puzzle back and forth with her spoon.

"Sadie. We're here to see the board," Melody said.

"Mr. McMillan and his son are inside and will see you in momentarily," the girl droned. I pitied her, working in this somber room all day. There were windows, but the dark tiles made it feel like there was no ambient light in the room even in the late afternoon.

My liaison's eyebrows creased. "I thought it'd only be Mr. McMillan in today?"

"Landis wanted to sit in the meeting," Sadie said in that same monotone voice. She tilted her head, a finger on a tiny listening device in her ear, and she nudged her head. "Kadabra, send them in." The words were barely audible to me due to her being way to my left. I touched my new hearing aid and lamented how much worse it was than my last, even if it was just temporary until this was dealt with. At least this place was quieter than downstairs.

The psychic nonchalantly waved a spoon, and the great double doors rattled with psychic energy. The shield present had honestly been so weak even Cass would have been able to brute force it—no offense to them. They'd done a great job against Gardenia's Torterra today; I just felt like the protection afforded to such important people wasn't up to par with the threats they could face. And only one Kadabra? What if you just focused on her, making her concentration fray and allowing other assassins into the room? Hell, she could just die from a stray attack through one of the windows and there would be no more protection. What if—

Melody interrupted my racing thoughts by stepping inside. Oh, Arceus, I was nervous. I found myself wiping the sweat off my hands before following her into the thankfully brighter room, even if it was practically empty; there were no decorations, no plants, no nothing besides the long table and a row of chairs, and the sunlight of the late afternoon basking the room in its glow. It was larger than you'd think, with a table long enough to fit the entire board and then some if need be. Small water bottles had already been placed beside what I assumed were our seats. Melody motioned to me, and I anxiously shuffled into the comfortable chair. She sat to my right so I'd hear her.

It was my second time seeing Remington McMillan up close. I'd seen pictures, videos, footage on the news—but most recently, I'd seen him from afar at Craig's ceremony.

He was just a man—frail, soft, and visibly aged. There were only wisps of white hair remaining on his head, arranged in a combover that was being asked to do the impossible. His skin was a network of wrinkles, so much so that it seemed harder to find a smooth patch than not. Yet, unlike some of the other board members I'd seen at the ceremony, his eyes were sharp and dangerous, as if the years hadn't dulled the keen gaze that once built a technological empire across Sinnoh.

Built and maintained it, even with Cynthia's rise.

Beside him was a secretary of some sort with the same earpiece I'd noticed moments earlier and a phone that I assumed was here for her to record things. She glanced toward me for a moment, then away instantly, almost uncomfortably. She was scared; fear was easy enough to read.

Sat at his side sat his son Landis, feet up on the table with a smug smile as he looked at me. He looked absolutely delighted to be here—a stark contrast to his father's solemn look. There was a laptop closed at his feet, along with a notebook and a pen. From what I knew, he was in his forties and kind of reminded me of what Louis would have been like had he never gotten a reality check in his formative years. Hell, he even had blond hair to boot, though his was more of a dirty blond like rather than Louis' pristine blond.

Melody dipped her head for a moment. "Members of the board."

I glanced at her, wanting to know if I was supposed to say anything before I remembered that she had literally briefed me on this like an hour ago and that I'd just forgotten because of the anxiety. "M—members of the board," I mumbled. Only a moment later did I dip my own head. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"Pleasure's ours," Landis said. I had to angle my head to the right, toward him and his father, in hopes of catching their words. "It's overdue, really. Dad says that it's not how we do things, but he's a little old-school."

A strange silence settled in—not awkward, but heavy despite knowing that Remington couldn't hurt me at all. I was pretty sure he wouldn't even be able to knock me on the ground physically. He had barely looked my way when I stepped into the room and was slowly drumming his fingers on the table. His son cleared his throat and sat properly, removing his feet from the table, and he muttered something under his breath I didn't catch.

"Now we can begin in earnest," Remington said with a polite smile he must have practiced more times than I could count. "Grace Pastel. In all my years leading this company—fifty-two years—I have never had someone as unpredictable as you under Poketch's employ." He stroked his chin with a contemplative look, almost amused. "It's as if you know exactly how to toe the line between talented and useful, and liability who cannot be controlled. I wonder how you do it, sometimes."

Melody spoke up. "Respectfully, Mr. McMillan—"

"The young lady can speak for herself, can't she?" he interrupted her. Melody hid her grimace well, but not her flexing fingers under the table. "Can you blame me for being intrigued?"

For the first time, he looked at me. I met his milky, baleful grey eyes and stopped myself from sputtering out some non-answer to stall for time.

"I had no idea today would happen at all. The battle was offered to me as… more of a personal affair," I tried to explain. "I had no idea the badge would come along with it."

"Yet you took it regardless."

"I did. And I'd do it again." Oh God. I would do it again, but I'd spoken without thinking. "It was the best battle I've ever had. It was far more meaningful to me than some rematch against Byron."

Theoretically, I could have refused the badge scheme, but I wasn't going to let Maylene's gift to me go to waste, nor would I allow the battle to be stripped of part of its meaning. It was reignition, yes, the rebirth of passion, but it was also a union between me and my girlfriend, along with the approval of her family. That was what the badge meant to me.

Surprisingly, he rested his cheek against the palm of his hand and hummed—a far more… youthful gesture than I'd expected. "You're speaking in feelings, not in Pokedollars. Try again."

For a moment, my eyes could only blink. "Uh. Okay?" Melody seemed tense—more tense than I'd ever seen her. I could literally hear her teeth gnawing despite being half deaf. I leaned forward in my chair. "I mean obviously people are going to be pissed when this is out, and a whole lot of interviews and preparations just went out the window. I was given an opportunity no one else has." Not that Gardenia was an easy fight at all.

I stopped to think for a moment, taking deep breaths as if to blow away the nervousness. A good method I'd found to soothe my nerves was to remind myself that we were all weak creatures of the flesh no matter what social power we amassed. I could kill him just as easily as he could end my career, really.

Besides the hardest of superfans like Edith, trainers' reactions would majorly range from indifference to hatred, especially since this wasn't the first time I'd been put ahead by something other than my own skill. Hell, I was sitting in this very room because I randomly met Craig near Snowpoint and he felt bad we'd almost died in Coronet—not that he hadn't seen potential in me. I was allowed to join the LTIP earlier and catch more than six Pokemon, I'd been given the secret to evolving Electivire, I was involved with the government, bla bla bla—you could honestly make an endless list of the advantages I'd been given. I didn't feel bad about it. Not anymore, at least. As Craig himself had once said: luck was one thing, but correctly assessing and making use of the opportunities at your feet was a skill of its own.

My bias was obvious, and this wouldn't move any numbers. Honestly, maybe trainers themselves were a lost cause, but that was the thing, wasn't it? I wasn't staying here.

"I'm leaving after the Conference," I said. "I doubt Unova will care for this at all."

"Better," he said, this time tapping two fingers at once. I assumed he already had these answers. Did he want me to get to them on my own to see my worth? I hated the way he spoke. The way he only saw me as a number to exploit. But I only saw the company he had created as a megaphone to spread my name far and wide, so I was using him as well—to a much lesser extent. He was the one with all the power and leverage, and he would be until I was like Craig. "What do you think, Landis?"

Like an unmuzzled Lillipup, or a pet having finally been given attention by its owner, he slicked his hair back with a lazy faux-grin. "I think it'd be a waste to let her go." My eye twitched. "Craig played things too by the book. She's risky, but there's also opportunity, especially in a foreign market."

"Well, if I based every decision off what you said, Poketch would have gone under twenty years ago."

Landis' cheeks reddened, but only for a moment. "Whatever you say, old man."

Their little… whatever this was had allowed me time to think. "It isn't like Sinnoh's market is completely ruined for me." Or at least I thought so. I was honestly speaking out of my ass and just trying to sound confident. "We should let time pass post-reveal to see if sales for my merch and stuff take a hit. And honestly?"

"Hm?" Remington took a sip of water.

"I don't think civilians will care as much. I mean the ones who are deep in trainer culture will," I said, thinking of forum-browsers. "But the vast majority of the people who buy my merch? They won't care beyond like, the first day, I bet." People like my dad, people like Jess from piano class? They had only gleaned the surface of what it meant to be a trainer. "They're going to think it's weird for sure, but one look at that battle, and I bet you we'll come out the other side of this more positively than not."

This, I was actually certain of, and these people were the vast, vast majority of people in the country and Poketch's consumers. The ones who only tuned into battles during the Conference or tournaments throughout the year, or for a few trainers they liked, and nothing else.

"You should use more confident words when haggling to keep your position," Remington said in an almost fatherly tone. "But you're right. If you hadn't come to these very obvious conclusions, you would have been fired immediately." My blood ran cold. Fired, not demoted? "I've no time for people who can't think. Poketch is only for the best and the brightest." The glance at his son was very difficult to miss. "Keep going."

Keep going.

I'd only saved myself from a firing, not a demotion. Was I the only person in the world whose eighth badge was considered a bad thing? This stuff only fucking happened to me!

I beat Gardenia's Roserade, her starter, and arguably most versatile and powerful Pokemon, I wanted to say, but that didn't speak his language. "Gardenia's almost synonymous with Roserade. Not as much as Cynthia and Garchomp, but when people think of her, they think of her starter too. Me having beaten her is very marketable to the masses, I th—no, it is. Plus, there are plenty of moments in the fight that can be turned into more merch, and it's already been selling very well."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Your numbers are above what was projected now that you're pulling your weight," he admitted with smiling eyes.

I nodded. "I'd be willing to bet that the dent won't even be noticeable after a bit."

"What about your reputation?" Remington pushed. "You spin a pretty story, but Craig was beloved by all trainers and was a symbol of what it meant to tread that path. That is how he sold so well. He was simple in an extremely effective way. What if your co-workers suddenly no longer want to work with you? What trainers say trickles down to the ears of their families. This has never happened before in the history of this country. The networks are definitely going to run with it in the weeks leading up to the Conference, and your run there is now going to be tainted and bogged down by questions of whether you should even be there in the first place."

That was true. If I got crushed, then their expectations would be met and they'd laugh at me. If I did well and had a deep run through a combination of luck and skill, then every trainer who lost to me would complain and say that I shouldn't have been here. You could spin that I wouldn't have lost against Byron—though honestly, in hindsight, I was pretty sure I would have. Gardenia had just been the best at reigniting my passion in a way Byron never could have met.

I was in a lot of trouble.

"I'm waiting," Remington said.

So as you do when you were in trouble, I fought my heart out.

I could do more interviews now that I was freed from training—a blitz explaining myself and how I deserved to stand among the other trainers who had made it to the Conference. In fact, I could work twice as hard now in general, even if the fact that this meant less Maymay time just as we'd begin dating officially left a foul taste in my mouth. I could have my friend Denzel make use of his contacts in the trainer community to give me a leg up—he even knew the guy who made a podcast that was currently blowing up; Goalducc42 was topping the charts every time he and Archive released an episode. Granted, Archive being the paranoid, anti-government person that he was, would not appreciate me getting a leg up, but he wouldn't have to be included, and worst-case scenario, Denzel knew other people. I was close with the League, yes, and Remington knew they needed me, just not what for. That meant I could be used as leverage. A middleman of some sort between Poketch and the government. Getting them huge favors was a lost cause now that the world was saved, but he didn't know that and he'd been the one basically pushing me to make myself look better than I was. Mostly, I was expecting small favors here and there at most.

Like getting this man more psychics for free. God.

"You have awful security, by the way!" I was nearly panting. "I'd get at least three of those Kadabra if I were you, it's not like you can't afford it! See what I mean when I say the average person doesn't know much about battling? You just have a single psychic there to make you feel good about yourself—"

Landis snorted, nearly vibrating.

"—you can't tell the difference between a good and a bad barrier. Or one that lets sound in or not. Or one that isolates for temperature. Or a one-way barrier. Or—" I smothered the rest of my rant when I noticed Melody stare at me like I was clinically insane. Instead, I grabbed a water bottle and downed it all in one go, but I swallowed wrong and was gripped by a coughing fit. "S—sorry."

Remington's nose was mildly wrinkled, though his son was fighting not to burst out laughing. "That'll do, Ms. Pastel. Thank you for your time today; I'll relay this meeting to the other members of the board, and we'll take a vote to figure out our next steps within the next few days. For now, well… feel free to continue your work and to announce your new relationship on your socials."

Melody spoke up before I could have any hopes of putting my foot in my mouth. "Thank you, Mr. Remington. We'll be looking forward to the results of the vote." After standing up, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Grace."

"Oh. Uh, okay. Thank you, Mr. Remington."

My liaison didn't wait long to freak out at me. The moment we were back in the elevator and she used her keycard to click on the ground floor, she—

"I think you might have saved your job."

She finally allowed the lines of exhaustion to show on her face. A huge sigh slipped through, and she leaned against the wall of the elevator as her hands tightly gripped the railing.

My heart skipped a beat. "Did—did I make good arguments?! How do you know?"

"You made decent arguments. You should have been more detailed on a plan to restore your reputation instead of just plugging the holes on a sinking ship, but you did well without a plan." Her eyes widened slightly. "I'm sorry, Grace. I should have briefed you on this. Usually, Mr. Remington would have just let me speak, so I didn't know he would test you like this."

"It's okay. I mean, I figured it out. I think."

"Anyway, don't get your hopes up. It's not a sure thing, but the way that meeting finished so open-ended? I know him well enough to figure that he would have crushed you right then and there if he'd been demoting you. He's a very straightforward person with no bullshit."

She kept talking about the different members of the board until the elevator reached the ground floor, and how this was essentially a one-man dictatorship run by Remington McMillan. Hell, my suspicions about one of them being senile were literally confirmed! Essentially, this meant that whatever he said would be law, even if there might be one or two votes of dissent for flair. The conversation continued in her car. The activity of the city was too much for me to focus on, and I was finding myself having to turn my hearing aid off in busy areas so the feedback loop wouldn't give me a headache.

"What he appreciated was being spoken to straight up like he likes doing—nothing to try to justify your actions, just trying to come up with a plan to fix things. Maybe it reminded him a little of Craig," she tried guessing, holding the steering wheel with a single, relaxed hand. "Though that thing at the end was way too far—what possessed you to talk about his security of all things?"

"I just couldn't help it. It's so bad, Mel!" I whined. "He'll thank me if he ever gets attacked by some criminal."

"Usually he would have had nothing there. The Kadabra's a new addition after the bombings," Melody nonchalantly said.

My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "Huh?!"

"He hired her as a precaution—"

"A single Kadabra? For bombs of that magnitude?" That was nearly laughable.

"It's a serviceable bodyguard for the purposes of what he needs. Plus, he hates spending money."

"What about hearing damage from the explosions? What if—what if the building collapsed?" Arceus, now I felt naked without Buddy or Cass around me. "What about the inferno after the explosion, Melody? Has he given any thought about the inferno?! Does he want his skin to melt off—"

"Relax, Grace. You're not—" she stopped and blew a tired raspberry. "People don't really think like that. Just loosen up, okay? Team Galactic's gone. Today, you get to rest, but from tomorrow onward, you'll be working even harder. And remember, if things go south, Mr. Remington is still liable to drop you."

I leaned against the window. "Yeah. I know."

But the most important part was that I had survived through this, if only barely. Of course, things were never easy, but they could have been worse. I'd need to start figuring out how to approach things from now on, especially with my co-workers.

And what would Marley say?

To cheer myself up, I messaged Maylene about going public sometime tomorrow and finally getting those matching hearing aids.

—

The next day

Cecilia was glad her dream skills seemed to have transferred to the real world. She stood outside in the crisp Floaroma air, hammer in hand, staring at the wooden beams in front of her. The rhythmic clink of metal striking nails felt natural, as though her body knew the motion instinctively. She braced a plank against the frame and raised the hammer high, bringing it down with just the right amount of force. Despite disliking such labor, the nail drove cleanly into the wood, the impact sending a satisfying vibration up her arm.

All around her, people were working on Louis' land. They'd been hired by Justin's father to help in the construction of his sanctuary, and while Louis was more of a leading figure, organizing what should go where and rearranging plans over and over so the end product would be one-to-one to his vision, Cecilia had asked for manual labor. Her Pokemon were helping as well, or at least as best as they could. Even her Hydreigon was helping to transport materials. Cecilia was glad to see Justin's Pokemon participating as well, though they stuck to Louis for the most part. Especially Audino. The normal type clung to his shirt like a lost child in a mall.

She missed Justin. She glanced at the sky as memory of him stalked her mind, and for a moment, she felt a little silly at the thought of him observing his friends live their lives. Chase liked to imagine this with his parents. It made things easier for him, and not wanting to disappoint them was part of what gave him his inexhaustible drive.

Sweat clinging to her skin, Cecilia wiped her brow after taking off her cap for a moment and decided to take a breather. The cabin she was working on would be used to store dry foods, but right now it was just a meager wooden frame. Feeling horribly parched, she decided to make her way toward a help desk that had been set up at the edge of Louis' land.

The terrain itself was like much of Floaroma—a flat plateau covered in flowers. A few Beautifly floated lazily above, their wings shimmering in the sunlight as they flitted from flower to flower. Near the edge of a small stream, a Pachirisu darted between the trees, its bushy tail flicking with excitement. In the distance, a Roselia stood still among the petals, blending almost seamlessly with the faded colors around it. Life was everywhere you looked.

They weren't altering the landscape as much as they were adding on top of it, and most of the final project would be open-air—Cecilia had seen the blueprints a dozen times. It was Grace who had helped Louis procure this piece of land, or at least helped him look into it. As much as it hurt to see him begin to gravitate toward her again, she understood. She'd never done as much for him as Grace had, helping him not with only this, but also his struggles with the knowledge of the end of the world, his troubles with Gible back at the start of the journey, and a million other tiny things that eventually added up into a mountain.

Almost as if on cue, her phone rang. For better or for worse—no, it was clearly for the better—gone were the days where she expected Grace to call. These days, it was either Temperance calling to chat when they weren't together or Emilia checking in. This time, it was the former.

"Hi babe," she said in a sing-song voice. "Not too busy, I hope?"

"I can give you some time; I'm currently taking a break," Cecilia said. "What's your deal today?"

The Unovan had smoothly integrated herself into Temperance's group, but that meant that she'd needed to learn the politics of it, along with dozens of different names, wants, and needs. She was honestly still getting the hang of it all, but they were all mostly nice to her, and it felt good to meet new people. She'd even gotten some of their numbers and been added to some group chats that admittedly she had not interacted in yet. What this meant, however, was that Temperance had found in Cecilia a good listener. 'Good' as in she just let her talk and barely said anything back, but besides her Pokemon, Cecilia was the only person Temperance could speak about this with. Heaven forbid she didn't look or sound perfect at all times.

Cecilia could sympathize with that suffocating state of mind.

"Ronaldo's been down in the dumps since we started dating." With a pensive sigh, she paused, and Cecilia heard her rolling around in her bed. The same bed she'd been in when Cecilia had left this very morning.

The Unovan scoffed. "Did you spend all day doing nothing?"

"What? It's not like I have a Grand Festival to prepare for. I deserve a break, Cece."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Whatever. What's this about Ronaldo?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to cheer him up. Maybe I can set him up with another girl and we can do a double date thing."

Cecilia rolled her eyes so strongly they nearly receded back into her skull. "And have you hang off my arm the entire night? Are you stupid? Do you want to torture him?"

"Not like you aren't doing the same thing to your other friend," Temperance dared to fight back. "I'm surprised she's still hanging out with us. She obviously isn't coming today because you aren't."

Emilia…

Emilia was odd, really. Sometimes Cecilia wondered why her friend even looked at a person like her this way and why it seemed to get worse the longer this new relationship went on. Why even like her, and why lie about it? She'd asked twice more if there was a problem with the state of things, and twice more Emilia had said no. And she didn't even use the situation—being with people she could forge connections with to further her career—to her advantage. Instead, all she did was attempt to babysit Cecilia out of fear that she would fuck up somewhere.

Cecilia wasn't naive. She knew that this thing with Temperance didn't have legs to stand on for long, even if her girlfriend wanted it to. It was just new. Something other than Grace to experience—

However, that justification fell flat when she kept pretending it was Grace under her and not Temperance during the nights they spent together. Still, this was fun, and Temperance was good at making her laugh sometimes.

"You're right," she finally admitted. "I'll talk to her again today and try to convince her to stop coming." There were only so many hours in a day. Between training and integrating herself within a new circle, there was very little of it, but Cecilia was sure she could make time for her if she needed it.

"Did you just… relent to something? Am I changing you—"

Cecilia hung up on her. She hated that idea, now, the notion that she was being molded by someone. She let out a silent laugh, knowing that she might as well have been fighting shadows with how ineffective she'd been up until now to counter this. But little by little, she was becoming someone. A person.

She was still climbing those stairs.

One bottle of water later, Louis found Cecilia sitting under the cool shade of Lehmhart's body. She fought away memories of Grace complaining about the heat with a shake of her head. With her, she had a snack Temperance had bought instead of made. It was an artisanal energy bar, elegantly packaged in matte foil with gold accents that cost way more than it was worth.

"Doing okay?" Louis asked, patting the Golurk on the leg. Lehmhart answered with a high-pitched, satisfied sound. His range was improving massively lately thanks to Temperance's training.

He had grown into himself, fully becoming the man he was always meant to be, embodying the potential that had once only lingered as a promise. It was one thing to speak of a dream, and another to make it a reality.

"I suppose." Cecilia crouched and slowly munched on her snack. "Where's Audino?"

"With Ninetales. He's been struggling the most," he said. "What do you think about our progress so far? At this rate, we'll be ready to welcome Pokemon, both wild and trained, by the start of the next Circuit." His voice brimmed with the excitement of a boy on his birthday in a way Cecilia couldn't help but smile at.

They spoke of the sanctuary for a few minutes. Of future plans and how Louis was studying how to care for different Pokemon types on his own time with the very book Justin had planned on bringing him back from the Canalave Library before he died. Hiring was already in progress, and while his first few years would be backed by Justin's father, it was his hope for this sanctuary to run on donations sooner rather than later.

"Do you have a name for it yet?" Cecilia asked. "'The Sanctuary' isn't great."

"I haven't thought of it much, actually. I was thinking of either naming it the Floaroma Sanctuary—"

"Come on. You can do better than that," she teased.

There was a moment of tension in the air. A fist clenched at his side, and the chewing of his own tongue. Cecilia noticed his neck tighten as his next breath only squeezed past his contracted esophagus.

"Listen, Cece—" he groaned, as if speaking to her was suddenly the most difficult thing in the entire world. Feeling the rebuke suddenly come, the Unovan found her mannerisms mimicking Chase's as she lowered her cap until she couldn't see his face. "This is… this is a huge project of mine. I've been working toward it for half a year now. I—I know you're feeling hurt, but please don't… project that onto me."

"What?"

"You've been meaner ever since Grace broke up with you. And you're angry, I can tell!" She could see his arms move with his words, each gesture akin to those one would make when trying to calm down an aggressive beast. "And this new girlfriend of yours… well, I don't know. Just don't take it out on me—it feels belittling. Please."

"I—I wasn't being serious."

"The words cut all the same. I know others like Chase or Pauline can take it, but not me. And I wouldn't do it with Emilia either if I were you. She's been acting odd lately. I don't know."

The flowers at her feet swayed in the wind. "I thought—" no, that wasn't what she should have been saying. Justifications would bring her nowhere. Her eyes shut tightly, and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I should leave, shouldn't I?"

"That's not what I—"

"I get it. You don't want me to leave, but honestly, it might give you some peace of mind if I did." He'd be better off if Grace was here instead of her. He'd wanted to go back to her anyway. Cecilia finished her energy bar in one bite and shot up. Louis' face was wrought with pain. "I'll leave you my Pokemon here and come back at the end of the day."

"Hold on, I—"

"Of course, I'll have to take Lehmhart to fly. Could you change into your rocket mode, darling?" Cecilia stared up at the construct, whose eyes dimmed, and with an ethereal sigh that let her know he would eventually stop doing this, his body began to shift.

The plates along his body began to grind and shift with a slow, deliberate movement, revealing the intricate mechanisms beneath the ancient armor. He used to be slower at this, much slower, and it would still be suicide to use it mid-fight, but the sound of the change masked Louis' complaints and pleas.

Wait.

She was just—

She was just running away again, wasn't she? Doing the exact same thing that had lost her Grace.

The realization struck her like lightning, and she found herself suddenly hyperaware of every tendon, every bone, every skin cell in her body. Lehmhart stood there at the ready, his engines brimming with energy and warping the air below them with heat that made both Louis and Cecilia sweat and made the flowers below lie flat against the earth.

Cecilia exhaled. "Never mind, I'm staying." Lehmhart thrummed in relief as well.

"Thank the Legendaries." Louis held out his hand, but lowered it. "I never wanted to chase you away. I was just… you know. Just don't say hurtful things, even if I know you don't mean it." She found herself hugging Louis tightly, continuously apologizing in his ear as her eyes welled up with tears. He struggled to return it, but he did eventually. "You're trying to pretend you're doing fine, but you aren't."

"I'm trying to move on," she said, head still on his shoulder. "But I can't."

"It hasn't been very long."

"That's what Emilia says—wait, what was that about her acting odd?" She ended the hug and held her friend at arm's length.

"I don't know. It's like she's a lot less energetic than usual lately when talking, or at least that's what Pauline noticed the last time they were together a few days ago—actually, they should be together right now in Hearthome. It's unlike her. Do you know something about it?"

Louis had been so focused on work that he'd rarely lifted up his head to see what was happening around him. While he knew what was generally happening, he had no idea Emilia had decided to stick to Cecilia to watch her or that she most likely had unrequited feelings for whatever reason. The Unovan figured that being with her while she was with Temperance wasn't very fun, but if she was acting this way even with Pauline…

"I do know," Cecilia said.

Maybe it was time to speak to Emilia and tell her that she shouldn't be involved anymore.

It'd hurt her, but… they needed to talk more seriously. And if push came to shove, if no accord could be reached;

To protect her feelings in the long term, maybe Emilia was better off no longer being friends with her.

"Louis, I think I might need to leave after all."