He looks at me as if there is nothing separating us.

  Amethio enjoys my presence, even if he doesn’t smile. He probably finds it difficult to turn the corners of his mouth upwards because he is more annoyed by the things in the world than he is pleased by little things. Or maybe I’m just misjudging him.

  In these seconds, it doesn’t matter. We haven’t seen each other for a while and he’s missed me at least as much as I’ve missed him.

  An amused snort settles on my lips. I’ve missed being around everyone here, but the longer I act apart from them, the more I realise how much I like being around Amethio, too.

  “Is everything all right?” His words barely touch me. Still, I’m glad he’s worried about my well-being and not about things I can’t control. Not about Rayquaza and not about the fact he’s not strong enough to fight it yet.

  The sheets rustle whenever I roll from side to side. With my hands pressed flat against my face, I try everything I can to stop thinking about Amethio – his pained expression, his words and his frustration. It almost seems as if only negative things happen when I’m around. Circumstances that stress Amethio out, even though I played no part in our last defeat. Even without my presence, Amethio wouldn’t have been able to beat Rayquaza. It’s bitter, but it’s also the truth.

  That’s probably why I’ve lately been dreaming of moments between us that look more beautiful than reality. Moments when he isn’t disappointed and we can spend time together without me having to worry about anything. The thought of being by Amethio’s side without feeling this tension is alluring. Almost like the evening when we stood on the submarine and the world stood still for a breath. Or like when we came back to the accommodation from the Lush Jungle and he admitted I was doing a good job for the first time.

  My hands slip away from my face. My team has scattered around the room and while Raya plays hide and seek with Mirra, Ying is busy grooming her fur. Coro sits unchanged at the window and watches the outside world. His thoughts are drifting just as far away as mine have been lately. Only Lum is lying next to me on a cushion. His affection hasn’t increased a bit, but since we returned from our last misery, he’s been looking for places to sleep within reach.

  With my eyes fixed on his light-coloured neck, I wonder what’s going on in his head; whether something has changed between us or whether there’s something new I haven’t noticed. The things I don’t understand are piling up. My Pokémon are so different I don’t know what to do with some of them. The poor relationship with Eevee aside, I still don’t know what I can do to cheer up Trumbeak. I can’t tell what his problem is, and that makes it incredibly difficult to find a solution.

  Without further ado, I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Apart from my Pokémon, my relationship with the Explorers remains my biggest issue – with Amethio, whose behaviour makes me want to hug him and say everything will be alright. Silly words from a silly girl who couldn’t get her act together in Alola and who still hasn’t been able to prove to him that each day I get better. Our little chase in Galar, centred around Moltres, and the old woman from the castle, were never enough to carve my progress in stone. That is, if he’s interested in it at all.

  So much for the topic: I like to dream of better situations.

  A sigh escapes me at the thought, before I lower my eyelids and try to shoo away the images that are once again rising – unable to win against the tide of these strangely constricting feelings. There is hardly anything else I can think about these days but Amethio. About how determined he is and how beautiful the seconds are when he shows his softer side. We’ve known each other for almost two months now and I can’t deny how the time away has shown me how much more comfortable it is to be within his reach.

  It doesn’t seem to be a problem to drift off when I’m near him. Whenever we fly from one place to another, I am closer to him than to anyone else. My head often lands on his shoulder. I can hug him tighter when I feel like it. Part of me wants to prove something to him, which is awfully twisted, because this is my journey and I should be making progress for myself above all else. But there’s also this desire to let him see how I’m progressing – to hear his praise and feel the uplifting sense of joy.

  Only the thought of all these things makes my chest feel horribly tight until restlessness takes hold of me and I sit up at once. A few deep breaths soothe the feeling of being driven mad and as I run both hands through my hair, there is a knock on my door directing any thoughts I’ve shaken off back to Amethio. Gentle expectations push me out of bed to cover the six steps to the entrance and open it for my visitor. But the person standing opposite me in the next blink not only lowers my anticipation but also causes me to breathe a sigh of relief I don’t know where to place.

  “You look like you were hoping for someone else.” The gentle smile on Spinel’s features elicits an apologetic snort out of me before I attempt an excuse.

  “A little. I thought Conia had received another letter from a friend that we could share again.” A laboured smirk finds its way onto my lips. After the letter Lillie sent us, we both replied to her in the same manner. I told her about our adventures, changes and progress – on summer-yellow stationery – while Conia raved about desserts and new fashions, combined with a recipe for a sour cream cake full of sweet berries – attached on grass-green stationery.

  “I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon,” Spinel interrupts my memory. “I see you’ve been back for a while, but you’re not even at breakfast.”

  “Ah... Lately, I’ve been eating out more often and training with my Pokémon outside of the city. The kind of place where everything looks a bit parched and you have to watch the sandstorm warning boards.”

  “It’s a shame Amethio didn’t take you with him to train with Hamber, too.” He lifts his shoulders almost sadly. “Everyone here is aware Hamber favours our dear Amethio, but I really thought they would have brought you along – as a new trainer and aspiring professor.”

  My smile fades. Amethio has enough enemies among the Explorers, judging by the eternally long lecture Conia forced me into on the way back to Unova. Everyone seems to antagonise each other and what I’ve realised in all this is that I want no part of it. These fights have nothing to do with me, even if I am part of the Explorers and Amethio’s team. I want to convince myself that I have the power to draw boundaries and make friends with everyone. The rest of me is weary of the shallow teasing Spinel spits out in those seconds.

  “What do you want?” Leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Handing out side blows? Or is there something else?”

  The brief puzzlement on his features looks genuine before he catches himself and a restrained laugh hums in his throat. “Understood. I’ll back off.” Then he tilts his head. “Would you still go out with me?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s the beginning of August. We still have a good chance of catching some of Casteliacone before it’s sold out for the rest of the month.”

  My brows lift. “Casteliacone?”

  “You haven’t heard of it?” He puts a hand to his side. “It’s the most popular ice cream in the region.”

  I feel my ears perk up. Popular ice cream is something I could write to Lillie about – as a little guide for what we can enjoy together if we ever meet again. “I’m just going to change, yeah?”

  “No uniform, we’re going civilian.” He tugs at his clothes. “Of course, I’ll take my advice as well.”

  I’m left with nothing but agreement before closing the door and turning my attention to my team and my room. No uniform means I can try out some of my new clothes. It also makes me want to slip out of my current oversized shirt and put on something decent.

  In a flash, I rummage through my clothes in the wardrobe before deciding on something and whirling around to my team, which is watching me spellbound. “Let’s try our best to give you some of this ice cream!”

  Raya’s joyful barking is joined by a uniform tail wagging from all sides. Even Mirra struggles to wave the pom-pom on her costume, leaving only Coro, who at least looks at me. In the blink of an eye, I’ve got them all in their balls and put them in the beige belt bag Lillie once gave me. Together with my repel spray, the two hyper potions and my Rotom, everything important seems to be together. My bank balance looks good thanks to the Explorers’ monthly payout and my hopes of distracting even Trumbeak are rising.

  As I slip into the dark, loose jeans, I turn the trouser legs up over my ankles. It’s still warm outside – the temperatures never let up on any day – and as I pull on the snow-white top, I mix up a few of my strands with the fabric. A pained sound escapes me as I tug it into place, and part of me can feel Amethio’s reproving gaze on my skin.

  Immediately, I shake my head and try to push the thought away before throwing on a tight, dark blue waistcoat and fastening it to the centre of my chest. I don’t want to think about Amethio. I don’t even want to worry about his training because I know Hamber will make sure he doesn’t overdo it. So I slip into my brown moccasins, put on my belt, and scurry out of my room, leaving everything behind me.

  I manage not to think a single thought until I reach the exit. Then Spinel comes into view and I can’t help but open and close my mouth wordlessly, unable to form a sentence to describe him. A slip-up he recognises with a sober laugh before stopping next to me.

  “Most people are surprised when they see me like this,” he begins our conversation as he strides out first and I fall into line behind him, my gaze fixed firmly on his loose ponytail.

  “It’s unusual, I have to admit.”

  “It’s all a matter of perspective.” With his fingertips, he pushes a strand of hair into place on one side of his perfectly parted fringe. The hint of a side parting almost disappears beneath his wild waves, yet it’s enough to bring everything into a lively shade of “good”.

  I can’t say I’m not envious. It seems like he gets his look with just a few tweaks, while I stand in front of the mirror for an hour every morning trying to manage unevenness and create beautiful waves – hairspray and a curling iron borrowed from Conia included.

  Mouth agape, I follow Spinel down the street until I fall in line next to him and take in the hustle and bustle of the city. Every day seems to be the same here – loud and rushed, crowded with conversations and long faces in suits.

  “By the way, they caught the thieves.”

  “What?” Pulling my head back slightly, I look up at Spinel. “What thieves?”

  “Remember when we switched on the news at the end of our trip?” He taps his head. “Someone stole the dragon skull – remains of a Dragonite – from the museum in Nacrene City.”

  The memory hits me vaguely. It was that day I didn’t want to go back and Conia’s words stayed in the back of my mind like an echo. News that made me wonder what anyone would want to do with such an item and whether Team Plasma was really behind it.

  “Did they say who was responsible?”

  “Contrary to all expectations, two teenagers,” Spinel explains. “They thought that if they stole the skull and sold it, they would get enough money to live out the rest of their days. They just weren’t clever about selling it, which is why they were quickly caught and arrested.”

  As a humming sound escapes my throat, I put a hand to my chin and sink deeper into the information. It’s incredible the lengths some people will go through to get what they want. I understand that. There’s no denying I’ve also acted irresponsibly to get away from Melemele. Then again, I can’t imagine breaking into a place and stealing an exhibit in the hope of seeing my worries evaporate.

  In the end, I lower my hand and turn my attention back to Spinel. “I sometimes wonder what goes through people’s minds.”

  I really do. Be it Amethio or N or anyone else who comes my way and whom I don’t know how to judge. There’s Bellro with his exuberant way of mocking others subliminally. Spinel, who won’t let me look at his cards and who, although I get on well with him, is still a component leaving a thousand questions unanswered. Conia, who I think I know a little better now. Zir, who is a complete stranger to me. And also the professors I’ve met so far. I think up to now, Lillie seems to be the only open book I’ve been entrusted with.

  “I’m sure the world would be a boring place if we always knew what was going on in each other’s heads,” Spinel replies cheerfully. “Human relationships are like board games. You make a move and try to foresee your opponent’s decision. You lure each other into predetermined positions and see what happens.”

  “Isn’t that thought a bit ... painful?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Just as Spinel smiles at me seemingly sincere, a woman’s exclamation interrupts us. In the middle of the tall buildings and endless windows, between people who look around in confusion and occasionally stop, my gaze lingers on two members of Plasma. Their strikingly light-coloured uniforms put them both in a strangely unsuitable light between suits and expensive blouses. Each holding a Poké Ball, they look right in our direction and it doesn’t take a single word from our opponents to shift the oppressive feeling between us to Spinel and me.

  “Found them, I’d say,” the woman yells in our direction again, causing the people to pull out of the way and allow a clear view. “We’ve been ordered to clarify our position since the last time you got in our way.” She raises her hand and points at me. “And our other order is to take you to Master Ghetsis.”

  “Why?” I can barely get the question out loud enough.

  “That’s not our concern. We’re just following orders.”

  They don’t care about the people who look at us like we’ve done something wrong. They don’t care what happens, when it happens or how devastating the consequences will be if they don’t watch out for bystanders. They simply summon their two Pokémon – Liepard and Skorupi – ready to plunge this street into chaos with a battle.

  Everything in me wants to turn and run. This place isn’t big enough to have a battle without consequences. But when Spinel lets out Umbreon, I have no choice but to adapt to the circumstances.

  Reluctantly, I dig a ball out of my pocket and send Zoroark into battle. She’s my best card for victory. Trumbeak is too distracted, Eevee too disobedient, Raya too fiery, and Mimikyu not yet capable of putting up a fight. Ying is all I have left in these breaths.

  Our opponents are hasty, starting the fight without asking further questions, unwilling to let it come to a discussion. In a flash, the guy gives the command for a pin missile to his Skorupi, so that brightly glowing spikes shoot towards us in the next instant.

  I’m just about to advise dodging when Spinel’s Umbreon uses reflect. Immediately after, the pins pierce the pale pink shield with such force I can feel the whipping wind in my hair. The next breath, Liepard swings over the shield, claws outstretched for fury swipes.

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  But before it can do any damage, Umbreon swings up to it, dodges the first paw strike and delivers a powerful kick to its opponent’s nose with its hind leg. Foul play forces Liepard back, only to be ready to swing forward again the next moment. This time, however, Ying prevents it, grabs Liepard by one leg and throws it back towards its trainer with force.

  “Ying, night daze!” I immediately try to follow up, gain the upper hand, and drive our opponents back with my partner’s strength. An exchange that Spinel joins in on as he instructs his Pokémon to use snarl.

  Darkness gathers around Ying’s body, then detaches from her with an abrupt blow and dashes towards our opponents, while Umbreon uses its reflect to move in the air over the shockwaves. Skorupi tries to ward it off with another pin missile, but misses Spinel’s Pokémon, causing the pins to hit nearby areas. Windows shatter. Walls crack. People scream and wild footsteps carry most of them far away. Meanwhile, Umbreon dances through the air, jumping from one reflect to the next. Its paws sink halfway into the shield before it always breaks free with renewed vigour and gets away at the right moment.

  Simultaneously, the dark shockwave sweeps over Skorupi and Liepard, tearing them both off the ground and hurling them back. Their trainers have to jump to the side to avoid being thrown back, and although I hope for a moment that our opponents will give up, Liepard gallantly lands on its paws – hissing bitterly. Skorupi, however, somersaults several times until it finds its way back to its feet, barely bruised.

  The blackness of the attack is still rolling off their bodies as they lunge in our direction once more, and I barely notice the woman sending another Pokémon into battle. She doesn’t care about fairness in a fight like this. Orders are all she abides by and when a Sneasel appears, I can hear Spinel clicking his tongue.

  They’re pushing us into a game we can’t win this way. Liepard jumps straight into Ying’s arms, while Skorupi gets straight to Umbreon with new missiles. Sneasel, meanwhile, rushes past both battles, towards us, and while Spinel takes a step towards me, I stumble back. My fingers have already slipped into my pocket. The next ball I throw is followed by a command.

  “Flamethrower!”

  Sneasel seems within reach. All I would have to do is reach out for it and I could touch its razor-sharp claws. Instead, I try to jump back before powerful flames hit the Pokémon from the side and engulf it.

  I don’t want to breathe a sigh of relief at burning a Pokémon to death here and now, but as the temperature drops and sudden ice breaks through the flames, I feel my heart sink.

  “Icy wind!” someone yells in the background, bringing back memories of the battle against Glaceon.

  Growlithe has no problem with the cold, I know that. So my eyes immediately turn to the other Pokémon. Ying has raised her paws to brace herself against the cold – an act I imitate because it’s sucking every bit of feeling out of my body. Spinel, though, calls back his Umbreon, ready to replace it or even protect it from the attack, only to maybe let it out again afterwards. I don’t know, I just notice the ice flakes growing in size and that it’s getting harder and harder to see our opponents or the Pokémon.

  “Domino, call your Pokémon back!” It’s Spinel’s instruction that makes me look at him briefly. “They’re going to freeze their own!”

  “It’s just an icy wind! The attack lacks the power to do that!”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  I gulp. It shouldn’t be like this. The wind is far too strong, the ice flakes far too big, and the cold gets intenser. An insane perception, and yet I can’t deny it. After all, I’m not the only one who can see the extent of it. I have no choice but to call Ying back. I even force Raya into her ball – who knows how much cold she can withstand? The next moment, Spinel grabs me by the arm.

  “They probably see as little as we do.” A bland statement emphasising only one thing: we should take the opportunity to escape.

  But just as we’re about to turn away and run, a burning pain runs through me. I bend over, look down at myself – at the Plasma woman who has rammed a blade deep into the cold, almost numb flesh of my thigh. Eyes covered by narrow goggles, her sudden crooked grin sends a shiver down my spine.

  “You’re not going anywhere!”

  My eyes widen. The contact with Spinel breaks. His hand detaches from mine as he stumbles three steps ahead and I crash to the ground. My heart is pounding up to my throat. The stranger is half on top of me; the knife is twisting in my flesh and the sudden scream escaping my throat is no match for the flood of voices in my head.

  There are thousands of them. Countless sounds and conversations combined with my inner heat and the quivering of my lips. A cry for help suffocates somewhere in between. My cry for help. A plea I don’t want to utter and yet it overruns me, hoping that someone will come and tear this madwoman away from me.

  Two wet blinks pass me by. A second in which Spinel doesn’t move. The woman rips the knife out of my leg. Blood gushes out. Throbbing joins the tearing sensation of my flesh – behind it, a single word on my lips.

  “Please...”

  The sudden red beam shooting out of my pocket, releasing Mimikyu from her Poké Ball, freezes my insides. She shouldn’t be fighting, she should be recovering. But she doesn’t wait for my orders or even for another action from my opponent. Her black claws dart out from under the Zorua costume, lash out and hit the stranger straight in the face, throwing her away from me with so much force she hits the ground a few metres away, back first – the icy wind has lost its density. She rolls around her own axis several times until Sneasel stops her. The careful sounds from its snout are haunting, and yet they only distract me for a second. The blood from my leg is already dripping to the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Once again, I feel Spinel’s firm grip on my arm, making it easier for me to get back to my feet.

  Part of me wants to ask him to justify himself; why he didn’t help immediately, why he just stopped and did nothing. But when I hear a scream from the man among our enemies, a glance in his direction reveals how he has just been knocked down by Umbreon. Its paw punch knocks him backwards to the ground, rendering the frozen Pokémon and the two members defeated.

  “We should get out of here...”

  It sounds simple coming from Spinel’s mouth. But I can barely stay on my feet. My skin is throbbing, my blood is burning, and my shoulders are shaking. Still, I call Mimikyu back and try two steps that bring tears to my eyes.

  “Wait!” Brows furrowed in concern, Spinel grabs me by the legs and shoulders without asking. I immediately lose my footing and even though relief rolls over my body as my weight no longer squeezes the blood out of the wound, I let out a hiss as he squeezes too hard.

  Helplessly, I clutch at his black turtleneck jumper with both hands. Clenching my teeth, I try to calm myself with his gentle rose-cinnamon scent, but I can hardly think of anything else but Amethio. Part of me thinks I catch the whiff of coconut I always detect when I rest my head on his shoulder, and yet I know he’s not within reach.

  Instead, it’s Spinel who carries me back to headquarters; who tries to talk to me but gets no response. Most of his words roll off me. A headache makes it impossible to concentrate on a single thing for longer than necessary, and as the world blurs, I close my eyes for a breath.

  In the next, Spinel places me on solid ground and when my eyelids open again, the artificial light of a room blinds me. It takes a moment before I catch sight of a woman whose red hair reaches her shoulders in a wondrous wave.

  “She looks after us if anyone gets hurt,” explains Spinel. His hands come away from my body, one of them covered in blood. “I’m not needed here anymore, am I?”

  “No,” replies the stranger, her eyes fixed on her hands, which are rummaging through drawers and cupboards to collect swabs and bottles.

  “Then I’ll report it. Letting Team Plasma get away with this won’t please Master Gibeon.” His last glance drifts in my direction. “Shall we reschedule our date?”

  I merely manage a weak nod. He is so much calmer than I could ever be and yet the hectic nature of the situation seems to unnerve him – even chase him away as he turns on his heel and disappears. Just like that; leaving me alone with a stranger.

  “The aorta was missed,” the stranger suddenly begins. “Spinel probably thought he didn’t need to worry about taking any action.” A sigh escapes her. “He could at least have stopped the bleeding...” She presses cotton wool to my leg, white and shiny, which soaks up blood before it stops oozing out. “A single action.”

  “What ... is that?”

  “The cotton fluff of an Eldegoss,” she replies, “when you press it onto wounds, it sucks up, stops the bleeding and releases nutrients to ensure inflammation doesn’t occur. It also helps to heal serious wounds.”

  In the next gasp, she hands me a bottle of dark green liquid and I can hardly help but speak my woolly thoughts out loud. “Some kind of super potion for humans?”

  A thin smile creeps onto her features. “Don’t be silly. We may heal superficial injuries quickly and easily these days, but wounds like this ... so far, there’s nothing in medicine that can heal the human body like a Pokémon’s without causing secondary damage.”

  Unable to sort out my senses, I down the contents of the bottle. The nasty flavour is unpleasantly familiar, a mixture of leaves and an awful lot of bitter substances.

  “Petilil...” I groan as I stick my tongue out in disgust and grimace.

  “Well recognised. Highly concentrated like an energy drink to shake off your exhaustion.”

  Only the disgust already shakes every fibre of my body awake. But apart from that, the potion works wonders. My lead-heavy eyelids feel lighter and although my leg throbs and aches terribly, it hardly drains my energy any more.

  “What kind of secondary damage would occur if you tried a super potion?” Looking at the injury, a certain numbness slowly sets in, which I can probably attribute to the wool.

  “Changes,” the woman replies. “People who suddenly develop strange characteristics. Sometimes mutations. Sometimes a change in the human genetic code.” She sighs. “To explain it simply and understandably: Humans get abilities known from Pokémon – even if you tune the medicine to the human body.”

  As if the line between humans and Pokémon is so thin that even the slightest mistake can lead to a change. This is an easily understandable reason explaining why medicine for humans isn’t as advanced as that for Pokémon – especially as many bodies react differently to many remedies, as you can see from the headlines of the newspaper reports on the sales stands now and then.

  With skilful fingers, the stranger puts a bandage on me, pulls it too tight once and loosens it the instant I flinch. Then she takes a step back and looks down at me as if she wants to make sure that everything else on me hasn’t been unnecessarily damaged – reprimanding and dismissive.

  “The injury will close on its own this way. You’ll come back tomorrow so I can change the bandage and the wool,” she continues. “If the wound starts to burn or becomes infected against all logic, contact someone and tell them you want to see Ariana. They’ll let me know. It’s very rare to find me at the Explorers’ house in the afternoon.”

  “U-Understand.” I can’t help but tighten my shoulders. Those seconds seem like an angry mother’s rebuke, and while I don’t know if mine ever spoke to me like that, I’m all the more certain that my father would have used the same sharp tone.

  When she puts a hand on her hip and looks me up and down again, a cold shiver runs down my spine. “You should rest for today and not put too much strain on your leg. That also means you shouldn’t even think about continuing your date with Spinel.”

  “H-He already said we’d postpone it.” I hastily raise my hands.

  “Cancel it,” she counters. “Spinel’s no company for a young girl like you.”

  “He’s very nice...”

  “And mysterious.” Her snort is reminiscent of a Tauros’ last warning before it impales you. “And too old for you.”

  “He’s ... twenty...” Quick as a flash, I shake my head. “Besides, we’re just friends! We haven’t even been on a date.” It’s only in these seconds that Spinel’s choice of words dawns on me. “I’m not interested in him! Not in that way!”

  “Really?” She raises her brows, more demanding than questioning.

  “I’m sure. I might spend the rest of the day ... with someone from my team. Conia or Zir or Amethio...” The words roll off my tongue far too quickly, so Ariana raises her hand and any further statement sticks in my throat. Then she gestures for me to leave with a shooing gesture.

  Instantly, I push myself off the hard table, take one last look around the room full of glass cabinets and light-coloured cupboards and hobble to the door, which opens automatically at my presence. But before I can disappear into the corridor, I hear Ariana’s voice again.

  “Domino?”

  I glance over my shoulder.

  “Take care of yourself. Team Plasma is insane and you ... are too inexperienced to take them on alone.” She lowers her eyelids. “I’d hate to waste more medicine than necessary. The other members of the Explorers will probably get a warning to be careful after Spinel’s report, too.”

  All I can do is nod faintly before the door closes behind me. I wouldn’t say I can’t take them up to a point, but the thought of the last encounter and a glance at my leg bring the “madness” of this bunch to the fore. Putting myself in unnecessary danger is out of the question. If I want to act more wisely, then it’s not about finding out more about them, but about letting rest work its magic on my body. So I grab my Rotom and write a brief message to Conia, which she replies to before I’ve even taken my next four steps.

  Hamber let us know immediately after Spinel shared it.

  I’m glad you’re okay. Regarding your question: Amethio should be training right now.

  You’ll find him near the storage rooms on the second floor.

  Just go down the corridor, past the vending machine, to the window front.

  From there, you can see into the training room.

  You’ll find the stairs down at the end of the corridor.

  My heart leaps upwards. Then I put the Rotom back in my belt pouch so it can’t slip out of my strangely damp hands. Knowing where to find Amethio and perhaps glimpsing at his training sends tingles across my skin. There’s no reason to be happy about it, and yet I barely notice the pain as I follow Conia’s directions, even taking the time to pull a bottle of cold water from the vending machine before I arrive at the described window.

  Dim light envelops the room that stretches downwards, in a faint glow, while flashes and flames flare up as if a celebration is taking place in honour of all battles. Narrowing my eyes to slits at once, I look closer until I spot Ceruledge leaping from the shadows and notice Corvinight shooting downwards from beneath the ceiling. Blades of fire crash onto steel wings. Sparks fly – a firework display of seconds before both Pokémon regain their distance and Ceruledge lands in front of Amethio.

  His breathing is heavy. He has already loosened the string on his collar so that the amethyst hangs askew on his chest. In the next blink, his arm flies to the side and while Ceruledge leaps forward and Corviknight lets out a croak heavily muffled by the glass, Amethio stumbles to the side. He only barely stays on his feet, catches himself, shouts something, starts coughing and finally crashes on his behind – shock coursing through his body and penetrating mine too, so I start running.

  Clutching the water bottle tightly, I grit my teeth as I jump down the stairs in double steps. My leg throbs, every jolt tears at my skin, my flesh, and when I reach the bottom, I have to brace myself against the wall for a breath and force back the tears. Then I tear open the door separating me from the training room and push my way inside – into the stuffy air, infused with sweat, smoke and hot steel. Somewhere in between, there’s Amethio.

  “You should take a break,” I say before I reach him and hand him the water bottle. It takes a moment for him to lift his head and look at me. A few hairs stick to his forehead and his collar is dark with sweat.

  His pale skin looks even paler than usual, almost giving him a greyish glow, so I look around hastily until I catch a corner where someone has put down a towel and a chocolate bar. I take a few steps to bridge the distance, grab the items and take them to Amethio, who at least accepts the towel with shaky fingers. Meanwhile, his Pokémon approach, but leave us enough space.

  “Maybe you should call it a day,” I start again, before slowly lowering myself to my knees and sitting down next to him. “You don’t look well.”

  “What happened to your leg?” Instead of answering, he takes his mind off the subject, grabs the water bottle and drains it halfway in one go. Then he leans back, propped up on his hands, and takes a deep breath.

  “I was out with Spinel when we were attacked by Team Plasma.” My eyelids droop. “One of them stabbed me.”

  His eyes widen as his gaze rushes in my direction. “Did you report it to Hamber?”

  I shake my head. “Spinel took care of it. Word was passed on to the others immediately.”

  For a moment, Amethio stares at me, as if trying to read more out of my eyes. But there’s nothing more to say, no mystery in what’s happened, which is why he reaches for his Rotom Phone and checks the messages he’s received.

  “I assume there’s a warning regarding Team Plasma?” Carefully, I lean over to him to glimpse the display. He lets me, giving me the chance to read the message I didn’t get. Hamber actually warns of Plasma, suggests always travelling in pairs and explains he’ll pass the incident on to Master Gibeon. All further decisions are up to him.

  “Do you think the Explorers will do anything?”

  “Depends on what Plasma wants from us.” He looks at me again. “Do you know anything?”

  “Just that their leader wanted them to take me to him. That’s all they said. They don’t seem to know the reason themselves.” Mouth agape, I tilt my head. “Whatever Ghetsis is planning ... I can’t imagine him ordering his people to hurt someone else. He’s too friendly for that.”

  “You met him?” Amethio’s body seems to tense up, and it’s only in these seconds I realise he hardly knows anything about my trips with Spinel. So I summarise the last few days for him, the events surrounding Munna and Gehtsis’ illusion, which is probably very close to the original.

  Amethio’s reactions remain meagre. Most of the time, he just listens to me, although his expression darkens at every mention of Spinel. I can sense the rift between them, and although I could give him a hundred reasons why Spinel isn’t a bad guy, I swallow the attempt. In these seconds, I don’t want to argue with him over something as petty as a dislike.

  “You shouldn’t leave the headquarters for a while,” he replies at the end of my story, before draining the rest of the water bottle as well.

  “With that leg, I’m bound to get some rest for now.” A gentle smile forms on my lips. My heart calmed down a while ago and the strange peace of being by his side and seeing him regain a little strength makes me want to stay forever. “Are you making progress with your training?”

  He snorts as he bends a leg and looks at his Pokémon with a tilted head. “Not as expected.”

  “You’ve been at it since we got back, haven’t you?”

  “What are you getting at?” The sharpness of his gaze vaguely grazes me.

  For a moment, he seems to perceive me as an enemy, as someone who wants to get in the way of his goal, and while I understand his frustration – after all, I made Mimikyu stumble through hell once – I also realise the importance of insight. I had Lillie and Conia. Here and now, Amethio has me. So I put my hand on his. Heat creeps through his glove, clinging damply to my skin and reminding me of his exhaustion, which I hold tightly for a moment. And I catch his astonishment, his raised eyebrows and slightly parted, gently curved lips.

  “My point is you need to take breaks. You and your Pokémon. The learning effect is greater if you take a deep breath and let your progress sink in before getting back to work.” I don’t want to let go of his hand. “You ... have to take better care of yourself. Otherwise, you’ll cause your Pokémon and a few people a lot of worry.”

  He takes a breath, wants to say something, probably counter and reprimand me. But we are both unable to avert our eyes; unable to even breathe for anything other than honest, fragile seconds. For an eternity, we remain in this timeless prison just for us, until he lowers his eyelids, catches himself, and turns his head in a different direction. Then, slowly, his hand slips from my grasp and our strange unity collapses. His warmth fades. But the closeness to him remains.

  “I know,” he finally replies, unwilling to look at me again. “I’ll be careful.”