The shock of Yveltal's rebirth lingered across Kalos.
After the legendary Pokémon was forced back into its Cocoon of Destruction, the land felt as though all color had drained away, until Xerneas released its light again.
Life surged back, grass revived, and the heavy pressure in the air eased.
The Kalos Alliance announced that the crisis had been resolved.
How exactly they managed it, however, was sealed inside a classified report, circulated only among top officials.
Ordinary citizens of Kalos returned to their routines, unaware of how close everything had been to falling apart.
Lumiose City, once silent with fear, now buzzed with lights and chatter again.
Sam and Cynthia made their way back to Diantha's villa, spacious, elegant, and usually lively.
Today, it stood quieter than usual.
Diantha had been pulled away by her duties, helping stabilize the city after the disaster.
Inside the guest room, Cynthia shut the door behind them with a soft click.
Sam barely had time to breathe before she wrapped her arms around him, her golden hair brushing his cheek.
"Talk," she demanded, her voice low but trembling.
"Where were you these last two days? And why didn't you tell me anything beforehand?"
Her grip wasn't tight, but the emotion behind it was.
Sam raised both hands in surrender.
"Reporting to the commander-in-chief," he joked weakly.
"It… was an emergency."
He recounted the events, what he could, anyway.
He skimmed over certain details, especially the parts involving his transmigrator knowledge.
Cynthia listened without interrupting, though the small frown between her brows deepened.
When he finished, she pursed her lips and huffed.
"Then explain something else."
She tapped his chest.
"Why did Olympia call you the 'Child of Destiny'? She practically blocked me from reaching you. Said you were receiving some… gift of fate."
"Child of Destiny?" Sam repeated, confused.
He didn't know what Olympia had told her, but he wasn't eager to dissect that topic.
He moved closer, brushing the matter aside.
"You know how psychics are," he said.
"They say things that sound mysterious on purpose. Half the time, even they don't know what they're talking about."
Cynthia raised an eyebrow.
Sam could tell she wasn't fully convinced, but she let the issue go when he continued.
"Even if I really am some Child of Destiny," Sam said, shrugging, "it doesn't matter to me. That's not the identity I'm concerned about."
He paused deliberately, lowering his voice just enough to sound secretive.
Cynthia's curiosity instantly flared. She leaned in, holding onto his arm.
"Your other identity? What is it?"
Sam held her gaze, pretending to be shocked.
"You mean you don't know?" he asked dramatically.
Cynthia shook her head, her eyes bright and expectant.
He reached out and tapped her nose gently.
"The identity I value most," he said warmly, "is being your husband."
Her cheeks pinked instantly. She lightly smacked his chest.
"You!"
Sam grinned. "Little fool."
"H-hey!" she protested, but the softness in her voice stole the impact.
The moment the words left him, Cynthia melted a little, leaning against him as if her strength had suddenly drained away.
She wasn't angry at all; if anything, she looked relieved.
The tension she'd carried these past two days uncoiled from her shoulders, leaving only affection behind.
Cynthia leaned her head against Sam's shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.
Sam's voice softened, low and steady.
"What I'm looking forward to the most now," he murmured, "is the championship ranking match. Because once it's over… as planned… you'll be my bride."
A small, content hum escaped her. She tightened her grip around his arm.
"Husband," she whispered, teasing, "did you dip your mouth in honey? Why are you this sweet today?"
Sam wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, pulling her closer.
"No matter how sweet honey is, it still can't compare to you," he said.
"You've rubbed off on me. Being around you… I guess sweetness becomes contagious."
Cynthia blinked up at him, eyes wide and soft, her usual composed demeanor completely disarmed.
"Husband," she murmured again, "you're acting strange today."
"What's strange?" he asked, brushing a thumb over her cheek.
"You're… cute," she said, almost embarrassed to admit it.
Sam laughed quietly. "A cute love story for a cute girl."
He scooped her up into his arms, and Cynthia instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. She fit there so naturally that he couldn't imagine her anywhere else.
But Sam tilted his head and gave her a playful look.
"Though, honey… have you been eating too many sweets lately? You feel a little heavier."
Cynthia straightened in alarm and looked down at herself.
"I have not! Why would you even say that?"
"Because," Sam said with a grin, "your place in my heart keeps getting heavier."
Cynthia swatted his shoulder with a half-suppressed smile. He loved how easily she blushed, even after everything they'd been through.
After a moment of teasing, Sam let his grin fade into something more serious.
"Still, baby… if I hadn't made it in time back there, it could've ended badly."
Cynthia caught the shift in his tone and knew exactly where he was going.
She narrowed her eyes at him, pretending anger.
"You're really bringing that up? If you had come any later, I'd have turned into stone! What would you have done then?"
"Yes, yes, you're right," Sam said immediately.
"My wife is absolutely right. I scared you. I was wrong."
Cynthia tilted her head, playing along.
"Just admitting you're wrong isn't enough. If it was, you'd forget the lesson next time."
Before Sam could react, Cynthia pushed him backward onto the bed and pinned his wrists down, preventing him from getting up.
Sam stayed still, amused.
"My wife is right. If I make a mistake, I accept punishment."
"Only one condition," he added.
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Punishment isn't some game. Since when are there conditions?"
She turned around, digging through her backpack for something.
Sam quickly corrected, "Not a condition! Just… an immature suggestion."
She waved her hand dismissively.
"Fine. What's your suggestion?"
Still sprawled on the bed, Sam spoke carefully.
"Just that when correcting mistakes, maybe we can… approach it with patience, reason, and a little understanding, "
He didn't get to finish.
Cynthia tossed a small package onto his chest. It bounced once, landing by his collarbone.
Sam stopped mid-sentence. His mouth snapped shut the moment he recognized what it was.
And Cynthia slowly turned back toward him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
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