"Let's try hypothetical scenarios," Albert suggested, flipping to a blank sheet of paper. "You're in a double battle, with only one Pokémon in hand. Opponent sends out a Gyarados and a Magnezone; you only have a Metang. What's your move?"
Steven straightened, mind whirring. "Magnezone's a problem—it resists Steel, so my Metang won't do much. Gyarados is part Flying, so Electric is ideal, but Magnezone will wall it. I'd… maybe target Gyarados first with Rock Slide—"
Albert shook his head gently. "Maybe? What do you prioritize?" He asked again.
Steven's pen hovered.
Slowly, he nodded. "Gyarados first. Pressure it before it snowballs. Use Rock Slide for damage and hope for a flinch, then bring in Electric coverage."
Albert's smile widened just slightly. "Better. That's the kind of reasoning the exam wants—decision-making under pressure."
Steven leaned back, exhaling. "You make it sound so easy."
"It is," Albert said softly, though his tone was not arrogant but steady. "Once you stop thinking of it as knowledge and start treating it as a real battle. You already have the mindset of a trainer, Steven. The rest is just putting it into words."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Days bled together. Sometimes, Percy popped his head in, tossing a snack their way with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are going to bore yourselves to death. Don't you ever take breaks?"
Steven would roll his eyes, muttering something under his breath, while Albert, ever composed, replied evenly, "We take breaks. You just never see them."
The truth was, they did.
Short walks in the garden, where Steven would ramble about rare stones and Albert listened patiently.
Quiet meals shared in the manor's dining hall, where Sister Maribel sometimes joined them, chiding both boys to "eat more than just books."
Small, precious moments that threaded through the intensity of preparation.
In the evenings, when Joseph passed by the library, he often paused at the doorway. He never interrupted, never intruded. He would simply stand there for a moment, hands behind his back, watching the two of them in the lamplight.
Albert's calm voice guiding, Steven's focused frown gradually smoothing as understanding dawned; the way Steven sometimes leaned unconsciously closer, and Albert, without hesitation, matched his pace, his patience bottomless.
Joseph saw in their dynamic something deeper than study sessions.
He did not meddle. He did not comment.
The Stone Family Head was no fool; Joseph knew both boys carried burdens far heavier than their age, and perhaps this bond was precisely what kept them steady.
Still, there were nights when he returned to his study, a glass of brandy in hand, and thought quietly: What will become of them, when the world finally sees them for who they are? For what they stand for?
He cannot help but be afraid of how harsh the world may be for both of his charges.
One evening, as the oil lamps flickered in the library, Steven set down his pen with a groan. "Do you ever get tired of it, Albert? Studying, memorizing, all these exams… Don't you ever just want to run outside, throw a Poké Ball, get a Pokémon, and just battle without thinking?"
Albert was silent for a long moment. His gaze drifted to the window, where the garden swayed in the wind. "…More than you think," he admitted.
"But knowledge is a kind of freedom. The more I learn, the less I fear what I don't know. It means when I finally do battle, responsible for my Pokémon, I'll be prepared for anything."
Steven studied him, the way the lamplight played across Albert's sharp features, the faint glow in his eyes, the poise that seemed too mature for sixteen.
A strange warmth stirred in his chest, as it always did in moments like this.
"You're incredible, you know that?" Steven said before he could stop himself.
Albert blinked, meeting his gaze. His smile this time was softer, almost shy. "I'm just a bookworm."
Steven just rolled his eyes fondly at the understatement of the year.