The ship's horn blared as we pulled into Canalave City's harbor, and I'd never been so relieved to see land in my entire life. Well, both lives technically, but who was counting?
I stood at the railing with Umbreon cradled in my arms, watching the docks grow closer. The sea breeze was crisp and clean, nothing like the recycled air below deck that had started to feel stale after three days of travel. Umbreon's nose twitched as new scents reached us—salt and steel and something almost mineral, like the city itself was built from the bones of the earth.
"Almost there," I murmured to her, scratching behind her ears. She purred, content in her favorite spot. "Solid ground. No more rocking. You'll like that, right?"
She made a sound of agreement, though it sounded skeptical. She'd been skeptical about a lot of things since Hoenn. Couldn't blame her.
The ship lurched slightly as it made contact with the dock, and crew members rushed about securing lines and lowering the gangplank. I stayed back, letting the crowd of eager passengers disembark first. No need to rush. Whoever was picking me up—probably some League official or aide—would wait. They'd have a sign or something with my name on it. That's how these things worked, right?
Steven had assured me the arrangements were "all handled" before I'd left, which could mean anything from "a professional escort" to "I forgot to tell anyone you were coming, good luck." With Steven, it was honestly a coin flip.
The crowd thinned. I adjusted my backpack—everything I owned in one bag, wasn't that depressing—and made my way down the gangplank. My shoes hit solid dock, and I had to pause for a moment to appreciate the fact that the ground wasn't moving. Umbreon seemed to appreciate it too, her body relaxing slightly in my arms.
"Okay," I said, mostly to myself. "Let's find our watcher."
The dock was busy but organized, with passenger ships on one side and cargo vessels on the other. Sailors shouted to each other in that particular cadence that transcended language—the universal tongue of people who worked the sea. The air smelled like brine and rust and fish, underlaid with the metallic tang of the steel that Canalave was famous for.
I scanned the crowd for someone official-looking. League personnel usually wore uniforms or at least business casual. Maybe someone with a clipboard? A sign? Literally any indication that they were here for—
My eyes found her.
And the piano started.
Dum.
No. No, no, no. That couldn't be—
But it was. There was no mistaking that blonde hair, that black coat with the fur trim, the way she stood with easy confidence like the world had personally arranged itself for her convenience.
Champion Cynthia of Sinnoh.
Dum. Dum.
And behind her, because apparently the universe had decided I needed to suffer today, stood a Garchomp. Not just any Garchomp. *Her* Garchomp. The stuff of nightmares. The ender of dreams. The reason I'd rage-quit Pokémon Pearl when I was thirteen and didn't pick it up again for two months.
Dum-dum-dum-dum-DUM.
I stopped walking. My feet just... refused to cooperate. Every muscle in my body locked up like I'd been hit with Thunder Wave.
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Steven was supposed to send someone normal. An aide. An intern. Hell, I would have taken a particularly organized Bidoof at this point. Anyone but—
Our eyes met across the dock.
She smiled.
That smile. That *dangerous* smile. The kind that came right before her Spiritomb used Calm Mind, before her Gastrodon survived your best Electric-type attack, before her Garchomp reminded you that Dragon Rush had a flinch chance and yes, it would proc, because of course it would.
*DUM-DUM-DUM-DUM-DUM-DUM—*
Umbreon's voice confused and concerned. She could probably feel my heart hammering and my hands starting to shake. Why was her human freezing up? We were on solid ground now. Safe ground. There wasn't any—
She shifted in my arms, following my line of sight.
Then she saw Cynthia.
Then she saw the Garchomp because her head tilted up.
Umbreon immediately buried her face in my chest, her small body going tense. Right. Okay. Even she understood.
The problem was, I knew my fear was irrational. Cynthia was here as a representative of the Sinnoh League. She was probably just being diplomatic, welcoming, doing the Champion thing that Champions did. There was no reason to be afraid.
Except my thirteen-year-old self was screaming in the back of my mind, and the piano music was getting louder with each step she took toward me.
*Get it together,* I told myself firmly. *You've faced down poachers. You've rehabilitated traumatized Pokémon. You've given speeches to League officials. You can handle a conversation with—*
"Lazarus Hunter?"
Her voice was warm. Friendly. The kind of voice that probably put most people at ease. I am not most people. I am going to string Steven Stone up by his fancy tie for this.
"I'm so glad I caught you," Cynthia continued, closing the distance between us with easy strides. Each step made the piano in my head crescendo. "I was worried the ship might dock early. Welcome to Sinnoh!"
"I—" My voice came out strangled. I cleared my throat. "Thank you, Champion Cynthia. That's very... I mean, you didn't have to..."
Smooth. Very smooth. Excellent work, Lazarus. Maybe next you can forget how to breathe.
"Please, just Cynthia is fine." She stopped a respectful distance away, and I noticed she was careful not to loom despite being taller than me. Small mercies, at least for the moment. "I know this must be a bit surprising. Steven mentioned you'd be expecting someone from the League, but I happened to be in Canalave anyway for some research, so I thought I'd greet you personally."
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Research. Right. Because this woman was not only a Champion but also an archaeology enthusiast who probably knew more about ancient civilizations than most professors. Of course she was in Canalave. The city was famous for its library. Why wouldn't she be here?
The Garchomp shifted behind her, and I definitely did not flinch, no one saw anything. Umbreon definitely did not press harder against my chest attempting to become one with my ribcage.
"That's... very kind of you," I managed. My mouth was dry. When had my mouth gotten so dry? "I appreciate it."
Stop looking at her eyes. Her eyes were grey—not the cold grey of steel, but something warmer, more alive. Like storm clouds with the sun behind them.
Don't think about her eyes. Don't think about how pretty—
Abort. Abort that train of thought immediately. You CANNOT.
This was bad. This was very bad. Because in addition to the trauma of having my Pokémon teams destroyed by this woman across two games and multiple years, there was the other problem. The one I'd conveniently shoved into a mental box labeled "Things We Don't Think About."
Cynthia had been... okay, fine, I could admit it at least to myself. When I was a bit younger—thirteen, fourteen. I might have had a tiny, completely insignificant crush on the Champion of Sinnoh. It was perfectly normal. She was confident and intelligent and powerful and, objectively speaking, very attractive.
And now she was standing right in front of me.
In person.
Looking somehow even more striking than her game sprite or anime appearance had ever managed to convey.
Focus. You need to focus. Say words. Normal words. Human words. Speak you need to speak Arceus damned fool!
"I hope the journey wasn't too difficult," Cynthia said, and was she... was she studying me? Her expression was pleasant, friendly, but there was something analytical in her gaze. Like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. "Steven mentioned you've had quite a few eventful months."
"You could say that." Understatement of the century. "It's been... a learning experience."
"I'm sure." Her smile shifted, became something more genuine. "I've been following your work with interest. Your rehabilitation methods are fascinating, and your theories on aura are quite thought-provoking. I'm looking forward to discussing them with you."
She wanted to discuss things. With me. That meant talking. Extended talking. Possibly making eye contact. While my brain was still stuck on the fact that her Garchomp was right there and could probably smell my nerves... Fantastic.
"I, uh. Yeah. That would be..." What's a normal response? "...great?"
Nailed it. Absolutely nailed it. Maybe she wouldn't notice that I sounded like I was being held at gunpoint.
Umbreon made a small noise against my chest, and I realized I was holding her too tightly. I loosened my grip, trying to get my body to relax. It wasn't working. Sorry girl, extra massage time is in her future for sure.
Cynthia's expression softened slightly. "I know this probably isn't what you were expecting. If you'd prefer, I can arrange for someone else to—"
"No!" The word came out too fast, too loud. Several people on the dock turned to look. Great. Perfect. "I mean, no, that's not necessary. You're already here. It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine."
The lady doth protest too much, apparently.
"Well then," Cynthia said, and there was something almost amused in her tone now. Fantastic. She definitely thought I was weird. "If you're not too tired from the journey, I was thinking we could grab some ice cream? There's a wonderful place here in Canalave, and it would give us a chance to talk in a more casual setting."
Ice cream.
She wanted to get ice cream.
With me.
'This is not a date. This is NOT a date. This is a professional meeting between a Champion and a... whatever I am. A specialist. A Displaced person. An official thing. Professional. Not a date.'
So why were my palms sweating?
Why was my heart rate spiking even higher?
Why did Umbreon choose that exact moment to peek out from my chest, take one look at Cynthia, and immediately hide her face again with what I could only describe as a judgmental huff? Who was she Mightyena now?
Oh god. Umbreon has turned to the dark side. Mightyena has infected her with the huffiness.
"Ice cream sounds great," I heard myself say, even though every instinct I had was screaming to run. "I could, uh. I could go for some ice cream."
"Wonderful!" Cynthia's smile widened, and I tried very hard not to think about how that smile made something in my chest do a weird flip. "The shop isn't far from here. We can walk, if that's alright?"
Walk. With Cynthia. And her Garchomp. Through the streets of Canalave City.
The piano has not stopped playing and it's not going to stop, is it?
"Sure," I said weakly. "Lead the way."
Umbreon made another small noise that I interpreted as: Really? We're doing this? You're really going to—
I glanced down making eye contact for a brief moment. 'I know. I know this is a terrible idea. But what am I supposed to say? "Sorry, can't get ice cream, you traumatized me as a child in a video game and also I think you're pretty and my brain has stopped working"?'
She pressed her face harder into my chest. Right. That's what I thought.
Cynthia gestured for me to follow, and the Garchomp fell into step beside her. The dragon was massive up close—easily seven feet tall, all muscle and teeth and barely contained power. It glanced at me once, and I saw intelligence in those eyes. Calculation. Assessment.
Then it made a sound that might have been friendly.
I nearly tripped over my own feet.
"Don't worry about Garchomp," Cynthia said, apparently noticing my reaction. "He's very gentle with people. Curious about you, actually. He can sense aura from training with Lucario, and yours is apparently quite unusual."
Of course it was. Because nothing about my life could be simple.
"Unusual how?" I asked, then immediately regretted it. Did I really want to know what a Champion-level Garchomp thought about my aura?
"Dark," Cynthia said simply as if she could see it too. "Very dark. But not malicious. He says it's like..." She paused, tilting her head slightly as if listening. "Like a night sky full of stars. Dark but not empty."
I had no idea what to do with that information.
"That's... poetic?" Had had a bit of a hard time believing the big guy could be that considering how threatening he looks. I shifted my eyes away berating myself for thinking something rude. Of course he could, Tyranitar can be introspective and sweet.
Cynthia laughed, and the sound was genuinely warm. "He has his moments. Garchomp is surprisingly philosophical sometimes."
The Garchomp made another rumbling sound, this one definitely amused.
We walked through the dock area toward the city proper, and I tried to focus on my surroundings instead of the fact that I was walking beside one of the most powerful trainers in the world. Canalave was beautiful in a sturdy, practical way—lots of steel and stone, buildings that looked like they'd been standing for centuries and would stand for centuries more. The streets were wide and clean, with the occasional bridge spanning the canals that cut through the city.
"Have you been to Sinnoh before?" Cynthia asked, making conversation. "Even in... well, in games, I suppose?" She was being vague and only loud enough for me to hear.
Right. She knew. Of course she knew. Steven had probably briefed her on the whole "Displaced from another world where Pokémon was fiction" situation. If not then there is probably something similar
"Yeah," I admitted keeping my voice just loud enough to not shake. "Pearl was my first Sinnoh game. When I was... Twelve, I think?" The age when I'd first faced her Garchomp and learned the meaning of pain.
"Did you enjoy it?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice.
Enjoy was a strong word. I'd loved the game. Right up until I'd hit the Elite Four and discovered that the Champion was basically the final boss of final bosses.
"It was great," I said, which wasn't a lie. "Very memorable." Also not a lie, just... selective with the details.
"I'm glad to hear it." She smiled again, and I made the mistake of meeting her eyes.
Big mistake.
The piano crescendoed to a deafening level.
I looked away quickly, focusing very intently on a particularly interesting streetlamp with a stylized Steelix flag on it.
Umbreon sighed against my chest. If I could see her face she'd be rolling her eyes, I was certain.
The ice cream shop came into view—a small, cheerful-looking place with blue and white awnings and a sign that proclaimed it had been serving Canalave for sixty years. Several small tables sat outside, currently empty given the cooling afternoon air.
"Here we are," Cynthia announced. "Best ice cream in Sinnoh, according to local legend. What do you think?"
What did I think? I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I thought this was possibly the most surreal situation I'd ever been in, and I'd been hit by a subway train and woken up in the Pokémon world. I thought that sitting down to eat ice cream with my teenage crush-slash-childhood-trauma-inducer was going to break something fundamental in my brain.
"Sounds good," I said, because apparently my mouth had disconnected from my sense of self-preservation.
If you could be like Lazarus and attach to a type of Pokémon which would it be?
