The room Steven had been given was originally a guest room Grandma Caroline had set aside for visitors.
But after he had stayed for a few days the last time he visited, it had quietly become his room. A wardrobe and a mirror had been added. The duvet cover and sheets had been swapped out. It had simply happened, without much discussion.
That morning, Steven pulled on a purple bucket hat — the kind sometimes called a fisherman's hat — with a Ghost-face pattern stitched into it, tucking his silver hair out of sight. He had originally hoped to find one styled after Metagross, but no such thing existed anywhere in the shops, so he had settled for a Gengar design instead.
Nobody would ever guess that the Hoenn League Champion — a Trainer famous for his Steel-types — was walking around in a Gengar hat.
He wore a black hooded sweatshirt and loose black trousers, and finished the look with a face mask and sunglasses.
Perfect.
The last time he had tried to go incognito, Wallace had seen straight through him within minutes. This new outfit should be more than enough. Even Wallace wouldn't recognize him now.
Once he was ready, Steven left his room and walked to the far end of the second-floor hallway. Grandma Caroline happened to be coming up the stairs at that moment. She stopped and looked him over.
"Are you planning to rob someone?"
"Huh?" Steven glanced down at himself. "Do I really look like that?"
"You look exactly like a thief. Officer Jenny will have you stopped before you reach the end of the street," Grandma Caroline said, already turning back toward the stairs. "Now hurry up and get breakfast started."
"Right, I'm going."
Steven followed her downstairs, muttering to himself.
"Do I really look like a thief...?"
In the end, he took off the mask and sunglasses and decided to put them on once he was actually outside.
Grandma Caroline continued up to Cynthia's door and knocked.
"Coming!"
The door swung open almost immediately.
Cynthia had dressed up for the occasion. Over a beige knit sweater, she wore a short black jacket, paired with slim-cut black dress shorts and black tights for warmth. On her head sat a Togepi-style hat worked together with a scarf. She had kept her makeup simple — just a touch of soft red lipstick. She didn't need much else.
"I don't think I've ever seen you in tights before," Grandma Caroline said, raising an eyebrow at Cynthia's legs.
"Well, Grandma's seeing them now~" Cynthia laughed and leaned in cheerfully.
"You'd look better in a skirt, if you ask me."
"Grandma, you know I don't like skirts," Cynthia pouted. With the Togepi hat perched on her head, she looked even more endearing.
Grandma Caroline chuckled. "And yet I seem to recall a little girl who would wear nothing but skirts."
"That was ages ago!"
"Alright, alright. Come downstairs and wait for breakfast." Grandma Caroline took Cynthia's hand and walked her toward the stairs.
As they passed by the kitchen, she called in through the doorway:
"Steven, how much longer?"
"Five minutes, Grandma! Almost ready!"
Steven glanced toward the doorway for a brief moment before turning back to the stove.
Grandma Caroline nodded, satisfied, and steered Cynthia toward the living room.
Steven looked back down at the noodles simmering in the pot.
"...She looks really cute."
"Grandma, maybe I should go change."
Cynthia's voice had gone quiet. She was being guided toward the living room, but her steps had slowed.
Grandma Caroline stopped and turned to look at her.
Cynthia's gaze was dropped, her expression subdued.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Grandma Caroline took one of Cynthia's hands in both of hers and gave it a gentle pat.
"He didn't even look at me just now..."
She said it softly, head still down.
Grandma Caroline sighed inwardly and guided her the rest of the way to the dining table.
"Come with Grandma. Just wait and see."
She settled Cynthia into a chair. Cynthia sat with her hands in her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts.
"My Cynthia dressed up this nicely — one proper look and Steven won't be able to take his eyes off you. He probably didn't dare look directly."
"You really think so?"
"Trust me." Grandma Caroline was practically patting her own chest with confidence.
Cynthia gave a small nod, though she kept her eyes down.
Grandma Caroline sat across from her and tilted her head, listening to the sounds from the kitchen. She could hear Steven ladling noodles into bowls. The clatter was winding down.
She raised her voice just slightly. Her eyes stayed on Cynthia, but her words were aimed a little further back.
"You know, I'm starting to think that outfit really doesn't suit you, Cynthia. Maybe you should go up and change."
Cynthia's face fell.
Her lips pressed together. Her eyes started to glisten.
Grandma Caroline's expression flickered. When did she become so sensitive?
She could see it written plainly on her face — Cynthia hadn't caught on at all. An obvious test, and it went straight over her head. If someone told her "Steven's waiting for you somewhere," she'd probably bolt out the door without a second thought.
Grandma Caroline sighed. Love-struck, through and through.
Steven came out of the kitchen carrying two bowls of noodles. He had caught Grandma Caroline's last words, and paused for a moment, uncertain whether they had been meant for him or for Cynthia.
Then he saw her.
The usually bright, lively girl sat with her head down and her nose faintly pink, looking genuinely upset.
Something in his chest felt odd.
He set the two bowls down in front of Grandma Caroline and Cynthia and said, calm and easy:
"Is that right? I think Cynthia looks great. Very cute, actually."
Cynthia looked up. Her gray eyes were still a little glassy, her lips pressed tight, the tip of her nose slightly red.
"...Really?"
"Really." Steven lifted a hand, checked quickly that there was no broth on his fingers, then placed it gently on the Togepi hat on top of her head.
He gave it a couple of light pats.
Whether it was his answer, or the sight of him carefully inspecting his hand first — Cynthia let out a soft breath of a laugh and sniffed.
"That's good, then..."
"Is your nose red? Were you crying?" Steven leaned down slightly, teasing.
"No! It — it's because there was a draft when I came downstairs!" Cynthia insisted.
It was, of course, a less convincing argument given that they were indoors.
"Good. I really can't stand seeing Cynthia cry," Steven said brightly.
Then he reached over and straightened her scarf, and slipped two folded tissues under it.
"There. Now you're safe from the draft and the soup."
"Ahem." Grandma Caroline coughed lightly.
I am still sitting right here.
"Right — you two eat first. I'll go get the Pokémon their food." Steven straightened up with a grin and held out his hand toward Cynthia. "Cynthia, pass me your Poké Balls."
"Mm! Here."
Grandma Caroline sat back and watched her granddaughter, who had returned to her usual self as though nothing had happened.
She folded her arms.
She had worked out Cynthia's pattern by now.
Steven thinks you look wonderful: (≧▽≦)
Steven thinks you don't look wonderful: (இдஇ;)
Steven wants you to go somewhere: Instant agreement.
Steven doesn't want you to go somewhere: Devastating.
Simple as that.
Grandma Caroline shook her head slowly.
"Sigh..."
Whatever had happened between those two when they were small — whatever Steven had said or done back then — her Cynthia had never quite recovered from it.