Akiyama let her finish the job, and only when his hair was completely dry did Gardevoir feel comfortable going to shower herself.
Gengar apparently decided there'd be more backs to scrub and followed her in.
He was picked up and thrown out.
"Ha! Serves you right." Akiyama laughed from the couch.
Gengar lay sprawled on the floor, entirely lost.
He flew back in.
He came back out.
Tch.
He pressed his lips together, took his small wounded dignity over to the tea table, and sulked.
Akiyama had just sat down. He let Kadabra out of his ball and picked up an untouched cup.
"Try some. Gardevoir made it."
Kadabra looked at the hot tea and nodded. He took a cup as well, and because he was clever, he copied Akiyama exactly—a light breath across the surface, then a careful sip.
Not bitter. Not particularly sweet either. Something like vanilla cake, and then warmth spreading down into his stomach, loosening muscles he hadn't realized were tight.
Once Gengar had confirmed nobody was getting burned, he tested the cup with the tip of his tongue.
Jerked back.
Tried again.
Satisfied at last, he curled his tongue around the whole cup and pulled it into his mouth. That enormous mouth churned like a washing machine, and a moment later the cup came back out, thoroughly washed.
And thoroughly covered in drool.
Gengar smacked his lips, savoring.
There was no angle from which this looked sanitary.
Akiyama could only laugh helplessly. So much for atmosphere.
Kadabra lifted the towel with Confusion and wiped down the cup and the table, twice.
The water shut off. A minute later Gardevoir came out, mostly dry, and afternoon light through the window broke into color across the white of her dress. She walked with her chin up, radiating a confidence that hadn't been there a month ago.
Akiyama stared without meaning to. The leftover steam clinging to her caught the light like a filter no camera could fake.
She came toward him and he was still staring.
"Garde?"
She reached over, took his cup, and drank a small mouthful from it, which finally snapped him out of it.
Kadabra, off to the side, noticed the color in his Trainer's face.
He went quiet, thinking about something.
Gengar flew to the spot Gardevoir had come out of and attempted to walk exactly the way she had.
Two steps, and he ate the floor.
"Gen-gar?"
He refused to accept this. He got up and tried again.
Smack.
At least the tiles got polished.
"Ready to hit the Gym?" Akiyama asked.
The word Gym lit her up all over again. She nodded, already itching for it. She wanted that third badge in his hand.
"Then let's go." He got up, then remembered something, dug his bank card out of the backpack, and handed it to Kadabra.
"Why don't you take Gengar out and look around? See if any of the stores carry the Energy Cubes we need. Grab whatever else looks good."
The Psychic-type cubes were gone entirely. Kadabra could make something serviceable, but the texture and flavor weren't close.
Kadabra took the card, puzzled. You don't need us?
"I went through the Pokémon registered to the Fighting Gym last night. Gardevoir's got it covered. So the shopping's on you—thanks for handling it."
With a job in hand, Kadabra pocketed the card and used Confusion to hoist a still-defiant Gengar into the air.
Huh?
Gengar's eyes rolled all the way up, straining like he might be able to see his own back if he tried hard enough.
The door slid open, and the two of them went out.
"I didn't give him a map," Akiyama said aloud. "That's probably fine, right?"
Gardevoir didn't give him time to worry about it. She took his hand and pulled him toward the door.
Kadabra was smart. With money in his pocket, he'd be fine.
Nanami's door was still shut tight next door. Asleep, apparently.
"Garde."
So now he doesn't trust his own Pokémon?
"I do. I just worry." He ended up walking ahead of her, leading her by the hand.
He'd done some reading the night before—the routes near the cities had network coverage now—and what he'd found on Takeru was, frankly, strange. The man had simply… quit. Not retired. Quit. Everything about his record radiated a kind of who cares, we all die eventually anyway.
Even the Pokémon he had registered with the League were phoning it in.
Years ago the Fighting Gym hadn't been like this. It hadn't been a Gym they recommended to rookies.
By the time they reached it, there was already a line snaking out front.
A lot of challengers.
Akiyama and Gardevoir joined the back of it.
"Blossom Rest is tomorrow. Why are this many people still lining up?" complained the Trainer ahead of them.
Blossom Rest? Akiyama thought of all the people on the streets carrying bundles of purple flowers.
"Heard it's because this year's Silver Crown League is different," someone answered. "Even last year's Master Ball class has to run the Gyms again."
Akiyama had his suspicions about why this year was different.
Because who wouldn't want to stand on the same stage as a legend who'd defined an entire era?
The conversation died and the line shuffled forward in silence.
Curiosity got the better of him. He tapped the shoulder of the man in front of him.
The guy turned. "Something up?"
"Sorry, I just got into town. What's Blossom Rest?"
"Oh!" Waiting in line was boring anyway, and he warmed to it immediately. "There's a purple wisteria that blooms all over Greenlight City and the countryside around it. You find the best bloom you can, and you give it to whoever matters most to you—person or Pokémon. Supposed to bring good luck."
Kind of like the Hanamatsuri, Akiyama thought, and thanked him.
Beside him, Gardevoir listened without a word and started quietly deciding where to go picking.
The sun had shifted a good distance across the sky before it was finally their turn.
Takeru was half-lying in the Gym Leader's seat, rubbing his gut. He yawned at the challenger walking in.
"You here to challenge me too?" he asked, thick with sleep.
Akiyama took in the whole picture and couldn't stop himself. "Has anybody told you that you could stream Slaking cosplay and make a fortune?"
The man was a natural-born Slaking. Forget lookalike contests—this was the genuine article.
"Kids talk too much. Give me your name, send out a Pokémon, we're done here." Takeru yawned again.
The guy might have had the Truant Ability himself.
You've got a viral goldmine sitting right there and you don't even want it?
"Akiyama. From Greenleaf Town." He put the noise in his head aside.
"Oh. The Miki kid, what's-his-name. Your old man's been busy lately."
Takeru said it like a man reading a weather report and lobbed out a Poké Ball just as carelessly.
What's-his-name?
A vein twitched at Akiyama's temple.
"Go, Gardevoir."
She stepped forward and took the field.
And across from her—
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