"Awoo..."
Kommo-o held the slightly smaller Jangmo-o and presented it to Steven.
"Jia?!"
The Jangmo-o squirmed in Kommo-o's grip, its small limbs flailing helplessly in the air.
Steven blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He glanced down as Metagross tapped out a translation on the ground with one of its legs.
This one is the youngest of us — and the most talented.
Steven's expression softened into a quiet smile. It seemed Kommo-o had hopes for its youngest companion — hopes that went beyond what it could offer within the group. And so, it was entrusting this Jangmo-o to someone it believed could help it grow further.
"Cynthia," Steven said, turning his head without reaching out to take the Pokémon himself.
There were two reasons for that. The first was that Jangmo-o was the Pokémon Cynthia had her eye on. The second — rather more practical — was that Steven's arms were already occupied with Togepi.
"Togepi ~! ^O^"
A new friend!
Togepi bounced cheerfully in Steven's hold, its stubby arms waving with unmistakable excitement.
Cynthia had still been shaking her head in disbelief at everything that had just unfolded. But when Steven turned to look at her, she caught the gesture even without hearing his words clearly. She walked over, her gaze settling on the Jangmo-o tucked in Kommo-o's arms, and asked with a hint of uncertainty:
"You're entrusting this little one to me?"
"Awoo." Kommo-o gave a firm nod, extending Jangmo-o toward her.
"Jia... (╥ω╥)"
Is this really happening? Am I being handed off like a piece of merchandise?
Cynthia reached out and gathered Jangmo-o into her arms. Setting everything else aside, the Pokémon weighed well over twenty kilograms — solid muscle beneath its armored scales. Holding it was no small effort, especially when it was still wriggling.
"Jia~"
"Awoo!"
"Ka-awoo!"
Kommo-o and Garchomp both gave sharp calls, and Jangmo-o stilled at once.
"Jia... (╥﹏╥)"
Why are you being so loud...
Kommo-o leaned down and addressed the Jangmo-o directly, its tone firm but not unkind. It spoke at length, and slowly, the small Pokémon's resistance faded. Its limbs went still. It let out a quiet, resigned sound and settled against Cynthia's arms.
Kommo-o straightened up. It glanced between Cynthia and Steven, crossed its arms, and said simply:
"Awoo!"
Steven looked at the words Metagross had pressed into the dirt.
Take good care of it.
"Don't worry," Steven said calmly. "We will. I give you my word."
Kommo-o held his gaze for a moment, then gave a single nod. It turned, called out to its group, and led them back toward the far end of the cavern.
"Jia!"
The Jangmo-o in Cynthia's arms suddenly cried out — a small, desperate sound aimed at Kommo-o's retreating back.
Kommo-o paused. It looked back over its shoulder at the young Pokémon.
A faint curve touched the corner of its mouth. It raised one hand in a slow, deliberate wave.
"Awoo."
When we meet again — I hope you've grown into something I have to look up to.
"Jia! (｡＞ㅿ＜｡)"
Jangmo-o let out a soft, broken cry. It kept its eyes fixed on Kommo-o until the larger Pokémon disappeared through the gap it had torn in the wall.
Steven looked down at Metagross's final translation, etched quietly in the stone.
He let out a soft breath, a small smile crossing his face.
"It will," he murmured to himself.
Cynthia set Jangmo-o down gently on the ground and reached into her bag for a Poké Ball. She crouched to meet the small Pokémon at eye level, holding the ball out with a warm smile.
"Jangmo-o — will you join my team?"
Jangmo-o looked at her for a long moment. Then it lowered its head and pressed it against the Poké Ball with a quiet thunk.
Click.
The ball rocked once. Twice.
A soft spark of light sealed the capture.
Cynthia straightened up, exhaling slowly. Then she turned to look at Garchomp, who stood nearby, still radiating the quiet pride of a Pokémon that had just broken through to Champion level.
"You worked hard too, Garchomp." Cynthia stepped over and rested her hand on Garchomp's arm, giving it a firm, steady stroke. "I'll give you a proper massage when we're back."
"Ka-awoo!" Garchomp's chest rumbled with satisfaction.
Cynthia recalled it to its Poké Ball, then looked at Steven with an exaggerated expression of suffering.
"Steven — am I going to lose my hearing permanently?"
"It'll pass," Steven said, the corners of his eyes creasing with a gentle smile.
"And how long is 'it'll pass'?"
Steven smiled helplessly. He tucked Togepi against his side with one arm and offered Cynthia his free hand with the other.
They started back the way they'd come.
He hadn't said anything more specific on purpose. He wasn't entirely sure where Cynthia's imagination might take her. But he had a fair amount of confidence in what the human body in this world could handle.
And sure enough, by the time the tunnel began to open up, Cynthia's hearing had quietly returned to normal.
Steven walked with Togepi nestled close to his chest. Cynthia had shifted to hold his arm instead.
"Say it honestly — were you just now telling Kommo-o that I'm a handful?"
"No. You must have misheard."
"I don't believe you." Her eyes narrowed. "You're still holding a grudge about that video I took of you dancing, aren't you."
Before Steven could respond, she had already pinched him — firmly — at the side of his waist.
Steven hissed sharply, drawing in a breath through his teeth.
Cynthia released her grip and looked mildly pleased with herself.
"I wasn't," Steven said, his voice strained with a wry smile. "Please, Cynthia."
"I know you weren't," she replied airily. "I just wanted to pinch you."
She glanced away, the smile still playing at her lips.
"As if Steven would ever say something like that behind my back."
"And what makes you so sure of that?" Steven asked, a quiet laugh escaping. "What if I'm completely different in private?"
"You just wouldn't." Cynthia tilted her head, shaking it slowly from side to side with an air of pleasant certainty. "I'm not going to explain why, either."
"Then I suppose I'll have to figure it out myself."
Steven shifted Togepi into a more comfortable position — and promptly placed his other hand on top of Cynthia's head.
"Chajiduyi! (≥dish≤)"
If this is how it's going to be, just return me to my Poké Ball already! One hand is NOT enough room!
Steven and Cynthia returned to the beach villa on Akala Island as the afternoon light began to change.
Tomorrow, they would be flying out to the Kalos region — to Anse City, where the festivities were in full swing. That meant the evening was for packing.
Steven's own things were already sorted. He made a habit of keeping his bag organized as he went, so there was nothing left to do on his end. As for Cynthia's belongings — those had always ended up in Steven's care anyway.
He stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing, watching Cynthia below on the beach. She was in her swimsuit, her team gathered around her in the sand, and she was patiently introducing Jangmo-o to each of them in turn. The newest member sat rigid in the center of the group, looking thoroughly overwhelmed.
Steven watched quietly, a soft smile on his face.
He had wondered, more than once, how someone as warm and openly curious as Cynthia had grown into the composed, almost untouchable figure that the people of Sinnoh knew as their Champion. He thought, now, that he was beginning to understand it.
He looked up. The sky was shifting — red clouds pulling apart to reveal long, layered bands of gold beneath.
He turned from the balcony and stepped into Cynthia's room to begin tidying. Her clothes went back in order. He paused to select what she'd wear for the flight tomorrow — Kalos in this season still carried a bite of cold in the air, and she'd need something with weight to it. He set a jacket aside.
Down on the beach, Cynthia stood with one hand on her hip, watching Jangmo-o tentatively approach Garchomp. A faint smile settled on her face.
Then she looked up toward the balcony.
Steven had been standing there just a moment ago.
Cynthia smiled to herself — quiet, unhurried — and turned back to her Pokémon.
She didn't need to say it out loud. The question she'd been carrying in the back of her mind for some time had already found its answer.
Because of your eyes.
From the very beginning, they've been saying it — clearly, honestly, without a single word.