Public transportation was Jupiter's idea. Saturn wanted to ride in Cyrus's flying car. Mars was fine with anything, as long as she got to go somewhere.

Saturn tears his gaze away from the rolling city landscape. Jupiter is talking on the phone. Mars is humming to herself as her legs dangle in the air.

"Okay… Great. Watch over Headquarters with R-8, B-2. We'll be back soon. Yes, you better not half-ass your job again, or you'll be stuck in bathroom duty, all right?"

"I hope the place doesn't burn down," Mars says. "It'll be the fourth time this year."

Jupiter puts away the phone. "It was just a kitchen fire. Don't exaggerate the situation."

Saturn crosses his arms. "Don't worry about a thing, Mars. We have state-of-the-art smoke detectors and sprinklers!"

Jupiter leans back to the cushy chairs. "I seem to remember a certain someone starting the Cook-Cereal-on-a-Pan Dare when the fire broke out. A certain someone who riled the Grunts into turning the kitchen into a complete mess and running away afterwards."

Mars looks at Saturn who looks to the windows. Gee, that tree is extremely interesting. Ooh, look how many branches it has!

"Cyrus," Jupiter says. "There was no need for you to clean up after their mess!"

"It's fine. I didn't want it to turn into an even bigger mess."

Saturn flushes, prompting Mars to snort loudly. He shoots her a weak glare, and she only laughs harder. A few passengers stare at the young woman until Cyrus turns his head, and everyone goes back to their lives.

"Aren't you excited, Boss?" Mars huffs. "We're going to the beach!"

Cyrus's eyes flicker to the young woman before returning to the glasses in his hands. "I suppose."

"You don't sound enthusiastic at all," Jupiter says. "What's wrong? Didn't you grow up right next to the beach?"

Cyrus stares at his hands for a while before replying. "Where are we going again?"

"Sunyshore!" Saturn beams. "Noted for the best beaches in the whole region! I've heard that the sand gleam like gold!"

"I heard that the water is clear enough to drink," Mars mumbles.

"No, Mars. No. It's just Pokemon piss everywhere."

"You're just jealous because you can't swim."

"W-What? T-That's inconceivable! You have no proof to accuse me of such!"

"You're stuttering, Saturn." Jupiter smirks. "And whose inflatable floatie does this belong to?"

"JUPITER!"

Cyrus simply watches as his Commanders gang up on the younger man. He shifts in his seat. The windows are made of acrylic glass, the doors built to only be released by buttons or an emergency lever located—inconveniently—next to the seats at the edges of the compartment.

"Boss?"

Cyrus almost jolts. Almost. "Yes, Mars?"

Mars grins. "What's up with your nerdy glasses?"

"MARS!" That's exactly what Jupiter and Saturn wanted to ask but repressed it for the sake of professionalism. Indeed, the glasses are a crime to fashion… as if the nerd who designed it thought that turtlenecks and shorts would go well together.

Cyrus utters a faint sigh. An almost… relieved sigh. He holds up the item in question. "These are dual-functioning glasses," the man says, a hint of excitement sneaking into his monotone. "If you press this button—this colorful one—ordinary reading glasses will transform into sunglasses." He puts them on, and the others barely suppress an urge to cringe. "A colleague of mind was considerate enough to gift this to me."

"Amazing. He must spend his whole day looking at rocks," Saturn chortles, desperately trying to keep his face straight.

"Excellent observation, Saturn. He is indeed a geologist, and he is quite prominent in his circle. Currently, he's doing research with another colleague that studies ocean topography."

It's nice to hear Cyrus talk about the little things, even if it's all about work. Saturn just wishes that the Boss would open up a little more about himself.

Cyrus adjusts his glasses. "Are they crooked?"

There are so many things that are crooked, but the Commanders play it professional. Mars and Saturn nod while chomping down on their quivering lips. Jupiter flashes a weak thumbs-up, and Cyrus's expression soften ever so slightly.

DING-DING! "APPROACHING SUNYSHORE STATION! NEXT STOP, SUNYSHORE STATION!"

"All right!" Mars leaps off her seat. Saturn pulls her back and gently reminds her that the train is still moving.

"I've been working on my summer body," Jupiter hums, her lips curling as she loosens the buns in her hair. "And I saw the cutest swimsuit at the Department Store the other day…"

Saturn happens to turn. The mirth fades off his face. "Um…Boss? Boss, are you all right? You look quite pale."

Cyrus releases a small, barely audible gasp that fails to reach Saturn's ears. "I'm fine." Said a bit too quickly. "I'm fine, Saturn."

Before Saturn can probe, harsh sunlight blinds the train in light. The smell of dry sand and sweet coconut wafts into the vents. "SUNYSHORE CITY," announces the speaker. "WELCOME TO THE CITY BATHED IN SUNLIGHT."

The beach is even better than in the postcards. Palm trees sway to the gentle breeze, the strong saline air confirming the "realness" of Sunyshore's famous beaches. The younger Commanders run across the glittering sands, laughing as they race.

"Let me help you, Cyrus." Jupiter effortlessly lifts the bags. "I swear; you need to stop carrying their stuff. They're not kids anymore."

Cyrus wordlessly follows her across the sandy beachfront. He keeps his head down as they weave through the crowd, moving silently and discretely as possible, even though no one passes him a second glance.

"This is a good spot, Cyrus."

Cyrus nods. He spreads the towel and sets up the umbrella. Jupiter sheds her blouse, shivering as the saline air kiss her bare skin. A few heads turn her way as she lets her mane of violet hair free to the wind's whims.

Jupiter taps his shoulder. "How do I look, Cyrus?"

"You look excited to go swim," he replies in his usual tone. Jupiter frowns. Cyrus sits down and reaches for his toolkit.

"I mean, how does this swimsuit look on me, Cyrus?"

He raises a brow. "It looks fine. Nothing appears to be out of place. Ah, if need be, I brought a sewing kit along as well."

Jupiter deflates. "That's not what I…" She presses a hand to her face. "Ugh. Never mind, Cyrus. You won't get it anyway."

"Is that so?" Cyrus purses his lips. "I see. I apologize."

"N-No, that's…" Why the hell am I still talking to him? "Forget it, Cyrus."

"All right."

Don't give me that, kid! Jupiter frowns. "Cyrus, are you just going to sit here to play with your scraps?" He scowls. "We're at the beach, for Arceus's sake! Go build a sand castle or something! Get some sun!"

"I'm fine here." His tone is flat and final. "I know you've been looking forward to this for a long time, Jupiter. You're wasting time standing here and talking to me." He raises his head. "Go on. Go have fun."

Jupiter exhales through her teeth. "Like you would understand what fun is…" Then realization crosses her mind. "Oh. Cyrus, you don't have to swim if you don't want to."

"I don't."

Now listen here you little brat. "T-That doesn't mean you should sit here by yourself! There's a lot of things to do! I can teach you how to swim!"

Cyrus looks almost insulted. "I never said that I couldn't swim, Commander Jupiter." Then his expression softens. "I'll stay here in case there's any trouble. Someone needs to watch all this stuff after all."

"Cy—"

"Jupiter." He's using the "Boss" tone again. And as always, her spine stiffens at his cold finality.

"Fine." Although it hurts her to do it, she knows that Cyrus won't be budging any second now. She thought about dragging him to the water, but there's a subtle terseness about him… a certain unease. As if something bad is brewing in the shining horizon.

Cyrus's lips tug gently, and all her doubts dissipate into the saline air. "Go," he says, his voice like the warm rings of the summer sun. "Don't worry. I'll be right here if you need me."

Mars lands on the scorching sand with a big "Whoop!" Cyrus merely blinks as he dusts the dust off his… whatever that he's building.

"Boss! Play with me!"

Cyrus frowns. He peers at her from behind those polarized lens. "Wasn't Saturn with you?"

"He was." She pouts. "But now he's talking to some girls."

"Ah." Cyrus glances around the beach. He then drops his gaze to the contraption in his hands. "I see. He's having fun, I suppose."

"He doesn't stand a chance, Boss."

"Oh?"

"And you know why? It's because he's too desperate. He thinks that he's such a big shot, but in reality, he's just a whiny baby!"

Cyrus blinks. And blinks again. "A-Ah. Is that so?"

"What are you building, Boss?"

Cyrus's eyelids are fluttering. Mars shoves her face into his space, and that wakes him up. "Nothing in particular," the man mutters to the sand. "I'm just putting stuff together."

"Looks like it," she says. He frowns. Then Mars shakes her head. "Let's go play, Boss!"

"Why don't you play with Jupiter?" His eyes flash when she grabs his arm.

"She's busy arm-wrestling some dudes."

A loud groan explodes from the near distance. Indeed, Jupiter is throwing down with some shiny, ripped beach dudes. And she's winning, judging from her triumphant roars. Cyrus's brows shoot up to his hairline. Mars giggles and gives him a tug that sends him flying to the air. She quickly grounds him, and it takes him a while to realize that he's on his feet.

"Commander Mars!" He's using that "Boss" tone again. "That was unnecessary—"

"Let's go get ice-cream!" Cyrus's scolding is lost against her mirth as she drags him across the sand. People look, but they just smile. Mars skids to a stop before the ice-cream vendor. Cyrus stumbles, almost falling on his face if she hadn't grabbed his hand. All the color had drained from his already pale face. He looks like he might throw up any second now.

"Two ice-cream please!" Mars flashes a smile to the grinning vendor. "Strawberry and vanilla!" She grabs the cones and reaches for her pockets.

"Oh shi—"

"What's wrong, Mars?" Boss's voice is faint.

Mars frowns. "I forgot that swimsuits don't have pockets."

Cyrus slowly, wordlessly reaches for his wallet and pays the vendor. Mars beams. Some woman in line whispers to her kids while pointing at the people before her.

"Thank you, sir," the vendor says. "So does she take after her mother more?"

Cyrus blinks. Mars also blinks. The vendor continues to ramble. Then someone calls out the nosy old man, and that's when Cyrus turns and power-walks away from the gossiping line.

"That was weird," Mars whispers once they're back at the galaxy-printed towel.

Cyrus might've said something. He keeps staring at his wallet as if it'll start coughing out money soon. Mars purses her lips. "Here, Boss. Vanilla for you."

A minute passes before Cyrus replies. "Oh. No, thank you, Mars. It's yours."

"But I bought two so we can share."

"I bought it, Commander. You didn't bring your wallet."

Mars scowls. "Come on, Boss! The ice-cream's melting!"

"No." Stated with cold finality. She winces. He turns away and busies himself with setting up the already-opened umbrella.

Mars glares at the unwanted ice-cream in her palm. Her own treat doesn't look as appetizing anymore. In fact, it tastes just like sugar and oil. "Ice-cream is supposed to be eaten with other people," she murmurs. "It's not fun eating it by myself. If you're not eating it, Boss, then I'm throwing them away."

Cyrus swivels back. "That will be a waste of money and food, Commander Mars."

"What's the point of keeping it if no one wants it, Master Cyrus?" She stares past the thick lens and straight into his eyes.

The Wingull cry overhead, circling about the Pelipper in the cloudless blue skies. Then Cyrus sighs. He keeps his fingers on his temples and sighs again.

"Yay!" Mars chirps when he relives her of the vanilla ice-cream. He squints at the melting mess and hands her some napkins, to which she greedily accepts. Mars inhales her treat. She groans as the brain freeze punches her skull. Cyrus flicks his gaze to the moaning young woman before refocusing on his melting delicacy. After some egging from Mars, he raises the cone to his mouth and nibbles on the custard.

Mars claps her hands. "Well?"

"It's edible."

"Yay! You'll finish it, right?"

And he does, although he looks quite green afterwards. Mars lets him sit down, lets him put his head on his knees. Lets him have the silence that he so rightfully deserves.

"Boss," she says softly. He grunts to show response. "I'm going to run around. I'll be back to play soon!"

Cyrus nods. Mars smiles. She pokes his polo and ambles back to the golden sands, but not before shooting one last, warm look to her boss.

Saturn collapses onto the towel. Cyrus jolts violently, earning a yelp from the younger Commander.

"M-Master Cyrus!" Saturn sputters. "What's wrong? You look quite… sick, sir."

Cyrus adjusts his glasses so the shades shade out his eyes. "I am fine. What about you, Saturn? Mars told me that you were… chasing?"

Saturn sighs. "Boss, I'm trying to live my life at the beach. But it's not as splendid and simple as they make it out to be in anime."

"Ah." Cyrus shifts. "The… the cartoons you like to watch?"

"They're not cartoons, Boss! It's anime! It's different."

"O-Oh. I see. Then why are you upset over an-i-meh, Saturn?"

The younger man thinks of correcting his boss but decides against it. "I'm trying to get acquainted with the girls, but all they're interested in is touching my hair."

Cyrus glances at Saturn's cat-like hair. "I see."

"They kept pestering me if this is my natural hairstyle. I told them I used gel, but they just laughed and began patting me on the head!"

"Ah."

"And they keep calling me cute, Boss! I am not cute! Who do they think I am?!"

"You're Saturn."

"Of course I am, Boss! I'm the Great Saturn! Your second-in-command! I can build a bomb to blow up a lake with my eyes closed, and they still think that I'm cute!"

"Saturn!" Cyrus risks a furtive glance around their bubble. He drops his voice. "We're at a public space. Be mindful!"

Saturn deflates. "Apologies, Master Cyrus. The nerve of them to belittle me! Perhaps if I brought one of my machines along, they'd wake up and tremble in their boots…"

Cyrus's brow furrows… and then his lips tug ever so slightly. He coughs into his sleeve. "You're not going to swim, Saturn?" There's something strange in his usual monotone.

"Huh? Oh. N-No. I'm not interested in swimming." Saturn clears his throat. Does it twice. "What about you, Boss? You're the only one wearing a shirt, in addition to slacks! We're at the beach, and you're not wearing sandals?!"

Cyrus gives a slight shrug. "I feel more comfortable like this, Saturn."

"But that's all you ever wear, Boss! You have some really nice calves from walking around all the time!"

Cyrus stares at Saturn. The latter realizes what he'd just said and flushes until his entire face is a walking carpet. OH SHI—"I-I-I meant that your legs are—I mean, uh, you're not a stick—" OHSHISHISHISHISHIFUUUUUU "—You look like a zombie—"

"Saturn."

"I'll shut up now."

Cyrus's eyes narrow. Then he scoffs. He makes a strange little sound in his throat.

"B-Boss? Are you choking?!"

"Do you not know how to tread water, Saturn?" It takes him a minute to understand Cyrus's implications. Saturn shoots to his feet, much to the Boss's amusement.

"I-I can swim!" the Commander snaps. "I can most definitely swim! I can swim, Boss! Easy!"

Cyrus nods. "All right. I was just asking in case I could help—"

"I can swim, Boss! I just brought this floatie for aesthetic! I definitely don't need it, no way!"

"I see. Stop pulling on it. You'll tear the seams." Cyrus rises. "Here you are. Your floatie."

Saturn's face is burning. "I-I'm fine, Boss! AUGH, I'M FINE!" He swipes the floatie, almost tripping over himself as he tears down the golden shores.

If Saturn had just stayed for a second longer, he would've seen the small smile on his boss's lips.

"HAH! Take that! You're weaker than a Wurmple!"

Jupiter chortles as another man shuffles away with his head hung in shame. She slaps her hand on her knee, the movement rippling across her ample features.

"She's too strong!" the men cry.

"Who do you think I am, boys?" I'm the damn senior Commander of Team Galactic!

Speaking of Team Galactic, she squints into the distance until she locates that sky-splattered umbrella. Cyrus happens to look up from whatever he's holding. He waves. Jupiter's jaw drops, and she returns his wave with a bright smile.

"Yo, is this thing still going on?"

The group of challengers make way for the new meat. The man ambles up to Jupiter with his head held high, a stupid grin plastered on his ruddy face.

"Depends," is the curt reply. "You think you got the guts, kid?"

The man with the red afro laughs. "Yo, Volkner." He elbows the silent blond man beside him. "How much you gonna bet?"

"She's going to win," the man named Volkner drawls. Jupiter's eyelids grow heavy just listening to his voice.

"Aw, come on, man! At least have some faith in your old friend!"

"Nah. You're going to lose, Flint. You're going to lose badly."

"Pssh." The man with the red afro faces Jupiter. "Let's go, lady! Me and you!"

Jupiter smirks. "Just don't cry when you lose, kid."

Not even a second passed when Flint's already yelling uncle. Jupiter slams his hand into the sand, taking the man with it. His friend had to help him up.

"Y-You're good, lady!" Flint's rubbing his arm. "Like, blazing good!"

"Thanks." Jupiter tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "That's it for now, boys! No more arm-wrestling!"

"AWWW!"

As the crowd disperses, Jupiter notices that the hideous red afro and his friend had stayed behind. Flint dusts his bare chest and prims his hairdo. "Your swimsuit's on fire!" He winks. "You're on fire, lady! Is it just you, or did it get hotter in here?"

"Oh?" For some reason, Jupiter feels the need to cross her arms. And she does. "That was horrible."

"Flint," Volkner says.

"Smoking hot! Like an Infernape when it's fired up!"

"Flint."

"Why, it's like I always say to my Lopunny: you're on fire, baby! Keep up the—"

He freezes. Jupiter wonders if reason finally reached that questionable brain of his until she sees that even the lazy one had paused mid-sentence. A cold draft tickles her bare skin. She turns to see the source of the blizzard glaring at the two men, his nerdy glasses glistening like burning obsidian.

"Cy…"

"What the hell, man?" Flint tries to glare back. And fails. Badly. Soon he's cowering behind Volkner to escape that frosty presence. Volkner tugs at this sleeve with an unusual urgency behind those normally impassive eyes.

"What the hell are you wearing, dork?" Flint hisses—and winces. He ducks his head. "Let's go, Volkner. This weirdo's giving me the chills. Literally!" But Volkner isn't moving. Flint scowls. "Come on, Volks! Stop staring at him! Let's go!"

"Flint, he looks really familiar…"

The blizzard advances. The two men instantly turn away and hurry back down the beach and out of sight. Jupiter is gaping. Cyrus glares in that direction before coming back to his Commander.

"C-Cyrus…?" she whispers.

"You looked uncomfortable," is the flat answer. He has his hands linked behind his back. "Do take care of yourself, Commander Jupiter. There are idiots everywhere."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. Boss," she adds faintly. Cyrus nods and goes back to the direction of the umbrella. She notices that his hands are trembling. He's squeezing them again, and he'd clearly been doing it for a while now, judging from the whiteness of his protruding knuckles.

Cyrus can't sit still. He taps the glasses until he arrives at the black-out function.

To think that they'd be here. He scowls at his hands. I knew coming back here was a terrible mistake. Valor Lakefront would've been a much better choice, but everyone was looking forward to this trip… Still… what is there to this hopeless, forsaken… If those two are here, then who else could also… The countless probabilities make him sick to his stomach.

"Boss!" Cyrus barely has time to react when Mars tackles him. He would've fallen backwards if she didn't hold him in place.

"M-Mars? W-What is it? Please unhand me."

She does. "Boss!" Her face is gripped with some sort of emotion that makes his blood run cold.

"Yes?" He grits his teeth. "Did someone hurt you?"

Two young man about her age scrambles into view. They freeze when he locks eyes with them. "Them!" Mars points to the bewildered boys. "Boss, they were hitting on me! That pointy one in particular!"

Cyrus looms over the duo in his signature Galactic-Leader stance. He glares at them until their knees buckle with the sound of popping kernels.

"Shoot, Dia!" the pointy one cries. "It's her old man! Run, Dia! Run or he'll eat our brains!"

"Why would I—" But they're gone before Cyrus can finish his sentence.

"Hmhm." Mars presses her hands against her burnt face. "They were telling such funny jokes until one of them said something weird. Now I'm feeling all hot…"

Cyrus seizes the Commander with his eyes. "B-Boss?" she squeaks when his gaze rakes down her form. She instinctively covers herself. "Master Cyrus? Sir?"

"There's no trace of physical trauma," he mutters, his brow still darkened. He frowns. "Where did they hit you, Mars?"

Mars blinks.

Cyrus peers closer. "I told you to put on sunscreen, Mars. Now tell me: Where. Did. They hit you?"

Mars manually closes her jaw. Cyrus scowls. She wrings the hem of her frilly swim-skirt. "Um… Boss?" Cyrus waits. She coughs politely. "Come closer, Boss. Yup. Okay. So…"

She takes a deep breath, rising up to her tippy-toes to reach her boss's height. He looks down just in time to see her peck his forehead, giggle, and run into the distance, leaving a very, very confused Cyrus gaping after her retreating back.

Cyrus slowly, gingerly reaches for the spot where Mars's moist lips have made contact with his skin, not even seconds ago. He touches it—it's still a tingly sizzle on his finger. The gears in his brain struggle in vain to unwind.

His feet automatically move. If he sits down, then his head will hurt, and he's not sure if he can keep his wits about him in the face of everything that's happening.

So Mars didn't get hit on? He's vaguely aware of a Pokemon following him. She's not hurt though. So what did she mean? And what was the purpose of that display of touch? Jupiter sometimes does that, but I still don't understand why—

Something pleasantly cool and mushy nips on his fingers. His mind slowly falls back to earth. The culprit looks up with a sleepy grin. He blinks, and the sea slug's grin widens at his recognition.

"Ah. Hello there. It's been a while, hasn't it?" he whispers, low enough for just the two of them to hear. "I see that you're a Gastrodon now."

"You like talking to Pokemon?"

Cyrus turns to see a woman in a leaf-green swimsuit, a towel of some sort wrapped around her waist. She leans down beside him, her auburn hair shifting in the summer sun.

"No. No. No, don't be ridiculous."

She smiles. "Oh, I don't think that's weird. Sometimes I talk to my Pokemon too. I think Gastrodon likes it, in fact. Look. It brought all its other friends."

And sure enough, a sea of pink and blue greets his sight. Cyrus stumbles back, accidently tripping over Gastrodon's cushy body. The Shellos swarm closer, but not to the point of overwhelming him. The larger sea slug glances back with a glint in its eyes, and he fights back the urge to use his sleeves as a shield.

The woman giggles. "Aw. You're all best friends."

"The Pokemon find humans to be intriguing," Cyrus grunts, shooting a pleading glare for Gastrodon to stop laughing. It returns a sleazy smirk. "And you shouldn't be talking to someone to speaks to Pokemon. People will judge you for doing so."

"I don't mind. I think it's really cute." She catches his gaze. He prays that his sunglasses are thick enough.

A Krabby shuffles through the sea of slugs and retreats into the crashing surf. The woman twirls a lock of brown hair. Her eyes shift to-and-fro, and as a slight flush appears on her freckled face, her lips part in a breath of hot air.

"My name is Gardenia," she says, her voice soft and shaky.

"Yes. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Leader Gardenia." Cyrus nods. "You run the grass-specialist Gym in Eterna City. Your Roserade is a very capable fighter. You've raised it well."

Gardenia's face turns as red as her Pokemon's flowers. "T-Thanks," she huffs with her palms pressed against her cheeks.

Gastrodon finally lowers itself just enough for Cyrus to get back on his feet. As he dusts his pants, he notices that she's still staring at him. As if she's waiting for something. "Yes?" he says. "May I help you, Leader Gardenia?"

Gardenia sinks her teeth into her lips. She's giving the Really man, you're seriously asking me that? look. And as usual, its implications bounce off Cyrus's over-complicated mental processes.

"GARDENIA!" A voice bellows from across the sands. "WHERE'D YOU RUN OFF TO NOW!"

Gardenia scowls. "Dammit, Candice!" she huffs under her breath.

"GARDENIA! ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH THAT MAN?"

Her cheeks blossom to the fieriest shade of red. Cyrus frowns. She gasps and hides her steaming face.

"GARDENIA! DON'T MOVE! MAYLENE AND I WANT TO CHECK THE GUY OUT TOO!'

"NOOOO!" Cyrus jolts at her scream. Gardenia peeks at him from the cracks in her fingers. "You better visit my Gym!" she cries. "I'll be waiting!"

"Y-Yes." Cyrus stiffens when Gardenia grabs his hand in an aggressive handshake. Then she streaks across the sand, trails of smoke steaming in her wake.

Gastrodon nuzzles his ankles. The slug is surprisingly cold. Or perhaps it's due to his being exposed to the sun for a while now. The sea slug follows him back to the Ginga-base. Cyrus frowns. Then he sighs and resigns to the Pokemon's whims, which mainly involves its soliciting around him.

It's not even a minute yet when something hard slams on his shoulders. Cyrus flinches violently to the point that his world threatens to go white. When he whirls around, though, his frown immediately melts.

"Ah. Jupi…"

"Je vous demande pardon!" says the woman in a midnight-violet swimsuit. Cyrus keeps his sleeves about him. That's… that's not Jupiter, right? No, stupid, of course not.

"Ca va bien," Cyrus mutters. He's about to turn when she grabs his wrist. His chest tightens and almost closes off his lungs.

"Oi! You can understand moi? C'est magnifique!" The Gym Leader grins. "Je m'appelle Fantina! And you are?"

Cyrus murmurs something about wanting to be left alone, but she pulls him in with her superhuman strength. Gastrodon is barking helplessly. "Aw, look at you! Mon chou, you're so cute!" Fantina wedges him into a hug, squishing him against her ample bosom. "Mon coco! Mon poussin, so precious!"

"M-Ma'am. I-I'm not food," he wants to say, but his brain is leaping all over the place to even fart out words.

Fantina peers into his face. He has the feeling that she's seeing right through his glasses, right through the stern mask that he always wore. It reminds him of someone, but as to why he draws such a connection, reason escapes him.

"You poor boy." Fantina shakes her head. "You're too young to push yourself like this. You still have a life ahead of you!" She pinches his cheeks, and his life flashes briefly before his eyes. "Not even a hint of fat! Have you been eating enough? Sleeping enough? Arceus you look so thin that—"

Someone grabs his arm and snatches him back. Cyrus falls to the sand.

"Cyrus!" Jupiter pulls him up without expending effort. His head rolls forward, much to her horror. "Wake up!" She fans the hissing steam from his ears. "Cyrus!" Some light of recognition crosses his eyes, but it's still too vague to carry any signs of life.

"Ju…Jupiter…?"

"Arceus, Cyrus! I can't leave you alone for one second without something happening to you!" The tendons in her neck creaks as she turns her head. A shadow falls on her face. Her eyes harden into cold, grey stones.

Fantina crosses her arms. Her gaze lifts from the glowering Jupiter to the malfunctioning young man in her arms.

"Hmm? 'Jupiter?'"

Jupiter's lips bristle. Fantina flicks her pensive eyes again. She taps a finger against her curling lips. It's not a cruel gesture whatsoever.

"I see," Fantina says with a soft, twinkly laugh. "So that's how it is. Who would've thought that we'd meet again after all this time? On the beach of all places?"

Jupiter clenches her fists. Fantina laces her hands behind her back. There's nothing harsh about the latter's gestures, but Jupiter is extremely on edge—Cyrus can hear her heart thrashing under her skin.

Fantina chuckles. Before Jupiter can react, the Gym Leader leans her lips within mere millimeters of the other's ear.

"Glad to see that you've found your own place, my sweet petite soeur."

The color drains from Jupiter's face. Fantina smiles. Then she bends aside to tap a finger to the other person's cheeks. "You're in good hands… Cyrus." A wink. "Take care of yourself, all right? I'll be checking on you, sweet little boy!" The Gym Leader waves. "Adieu! Look after him!"

And with that, she's gone.

Jupiter releases her fists with a hiss. Relaxing her shoulders hurts her entire back. "Now I know what petrification feels like," she hisses. "Why the hell did I freeze up like that? I shouldn't be surprised… That shouldn't—"

"Cyrus!" Jupiter turns back to the silent man. She feels his forehead. "Damn it, Cyrus. You're not running a fever, are you?"

He shakes his head.

"Sorry about that, Cyrus. There's a lot of weirdos around here. Especially in public places like this. First it's that weirdo with the afro and then it's this other one with her babbling mouth and… and…"

Cyrus is staring at her with blank, solemn eyes. She instinctively adverts her gaze. Sometimes he's too wise for his age. Almost horrifyingly so. Once again, she has to remind herself that he's not even thirty yet. He's not a kid anymore.

The beach feels old and stale, like the aftermath of ingesting spoiled milk. Jupiter rubs her sun-splotched arms. "Let's take a walk," she says. Cyrus tilts his head.

Nevertheless, he follows her down the shoreline, away from the cries of civilization, towards the memories that slumbered beneath the golden sands of time.

"Get in the water, Saturn!"

"You get in the water first, Mars!"

The young woman does just that. She wades into the smooth sandy terrain and dives deeper into the crystalline beach water. She swims to a circle of Finneon, waving back to the young man still standing on the shore.

"Come on in, Saturn! The water's fine!" She points at a happy Seaking to prove her point. But Saturn's talking to some girls in bikinis, much to Mars's dismay. He's definitely stalling… this idiot.

"Saturn can't swim!" Mars bellows at the top of her lungs. The girls giggle. Everyone within the vicinity of the beach shoots pitiful glances at the flushing Galactic Commander.

"But you told me that you can!" a girl squeals. "Can't you hold your breath underwater for seven minutes?"

Saturn is sweating profusely. Whether that's from the balmy air… "Mars!" he roars.

"Come at me, bro," she says with a sneer. "Show me that you're filled with… determination!"

"MARS, BE QUIET!"

"I guess I'm his favorite Commander then!"

Saturn storms into the water, his eyes flashing like cold steel while his legion of fangirls cheer him on.

Wingull streak across the painted skies. "Caw! Caw!" Pelipper roost on the palm trees, their beady eyes following two growing shadows as they make their way towards the southern tip of the beach.

Jupiter inhales deeply. The sun is a giant ball of fire, lapping against the clear waters, hovering just above the hazy horizon. She inhales again, taking in a big whiff of salt and sea. A multicolored bubble flutters across her face, its surface refracting in the glimmering light.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him. Cyrus. He's keeping a respectful distance, his hands grasped behind his back, those nerd glasses perched on top of his head.

A Gastrodon nudges his ankle. The slug had been following them ever since they left the main beach. It's awfully chummy with the stoic, cold man.

And it's quiet. Scarily so. She purses her lips. Don't just stand there, Cyrus! Just spit it out! Stop making it so awkward!

He doesn't. Cyrus only drops his gaze to the smiling Pokemon. Wait… what's up with Cyrus lately? He's been so quiet. Quieter than usual, and that's saying something. In fact, he looks almost… on edge, as if poised to flee at any given minute.

"Cyrus?" Jupiter murmurs. He nods. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What's on your mind? You can talk to me… you know that, right?"

Cyrus casts a glance to the distance—to civilization. Jupiter scans that horizon: the condominiums, the solar panels… those three palm trees that stick sorely out of place.

"I'm fine." His tone is final. Jupiter knows full well that he's not, but knows that she'll get nowhere by pressing.

Then Cyrus holds up a plain-looking shell. Drabby. Ugly, even. She raises an eyebrow, but nevertheless accepts it and raises it to her ear.

Oh…

"Never judge a shell for its cover." Cyrus looks to the setting sun. "Each shell holds a unique story within its halls." Gastrodon hears this and laughs, as if agreeing to his proclamation.

"Arceus, Cyrus… this is beautiful…" It's such a sorrowful song. One telling of bygone days. Coupled with the cries of the ocean, the call of the birds… the floating bubbles and the presence of a bright and commanding sun…

Is this what a wish for peace looks like?

Jupiter takes a deep, beach-scented breath. And she begins. "That was Fantina."

Cyrus nods. "The Hearthome City Gym Leader, specialist in Ghost-types. A legendary contestant by the title of 'The Alluring Dancer.'"

Gee, she's that famous, huh? "Yes… she's the best. Living her dream, just as she wanted to. No one telling her what to do… no responsibilities, no obligations for the future… A free spirit is she. Whoopee.

"She's always been the favorite. I told her that Pokemon Contests weren't a stable means of living, but still, she insisted. It was her dream, she would always tell me. And lo and behold where she ended up! Her future was bright, while I was stuck with a no-good, ungrateful…" The white line around her finger had faded over time, but she can still feel its suffocating, unforgiving grip. The burns, the ring of fire gnawing at bone—

Something cold bites her elbow. Jupiter looks down to see the familiar beverage, as well the person who had dispelled her darkness by ushering in the warmest sunlight.

And she laughs. She takes a hearty swing of the Soda Pop, shuddering as the carbonated liquid burns down her throat and stomach. "Thanks, kid." He tilts his head. Then he nods, and she laughs again. She walks forward, and she doesn't have to look back to know that he'll always be behind her.

"This is the end of the beach," he says.

Jupiter squints into the distance. "There's a cave of some sort at the end of the beach."

"It's nothing worthwhile, Jupiter."

"But it looks interesting—"

"There's nothing there, Jupiter!"

She hesitates. Very, very slowly, she turns around to find that Cyrus had stopped walking a long time ago. In fact, it's like he's being stopped by an indivisible boundary.

"Cyrus…?" Why did you raise your voice? Gastrodon peers at the man, its eyes shining and wrinkled. Cyrus scowls, and he looks away.

"There's nothing ahead, Jupiter." His voice is softer now. Raw, almost. "It's just sand and debris. You're only wasting your time."

Jupiter purses her lips. Gastrodon slithers up to her feet. It passes a look before it heads across that indivisible barrier to the cave on the beach. As if it's coming home.

"Okay, Cyrus." She clears her throat. "Let's go back."

Relief washes across his face. His shoulders slump as he releases that repressed breath. "Thank you. Let's go back, Commander Jupiter. How are Mars and Saturn faring, I wonder?"

After a farewell to Gastrodon, they turn away. Cyrus keeps his hands behind his back as they proceed back up the wharf. Jupiter keeps her gaze on the receding waves as the glisten in the reddening sun.

And that's when she happens to turn. A stray bubble had caught her gaze, reeling it back to the beach cave. Only now… only now the sun seemed to have grown brighter, basking the place in a storybook-glow. Fuzzy. Not clearly defined. Shellos stands where Gastrodon had been not seconds ago. And behind it is…

Who…? Children? Are they lost? A boy and girl, with their backs to her. Gold? No, blond hair. And that boy…

The mirage ripples in the bubbles' refraction. Then the boy turns. Time stops when their gazes connect—his and the woman's. She gapes as his eyes crinkle, and the most sorrowful smile embeds itself into her heart. His mouth opens—

"Jupiter?"

She jolts. Cyrus is staring at her. Those blue eyes hold the ocean within their limits. Wait. Those eyes…

"Are you all right, Jupiter?" He tilts his head. "Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to sit down? There's shade over there."

Jupiter slowly shakes her head. "Cyrus, there's someone that looks like…" There's nothing there when she turns back. Just sand and rocks. Debris from a forgotten time.

Nothing worthwhile.

Gastrodon tilts its head at her gaping. "Nothing," she mutters, rubbing her temples. "You're right, Cyrus. I've been in the sun for too damn long. Let's go back before it gets dark."

The atmosphere feels… different when they returned. Heavy. Tense. Like an approaching storm.

"Something's not right, Jupiter," Cyrus murmurs, his monotone barbed with thorns. "Where are Saturn and Mars?"

"BOSS! JUPITER!"

Mars scrambles up to her team, colliding into Jupiter's chest. Another man runs up behind her: a large, round man wearing a wrestling mask.

"Boss! Jupiter!" Mars cries. "Saturn! I can't find Saturn!"

Jupiter's heart almost stops. "What do you mean, Mars?"

The large man steps in. "Hello, Miss Jupiter. I'm Crasher Wake, and I'd like to help. Mars here says that she was playing with Saturn until a rip current caught him."

"WHAT?!" Jupiter swivels around the beach. The beach is empty, now that the sun had set. Beaches shouldn't be empty. Beaches shouldn't be dark.

"I'll try again!" Wake says. "Don't worry a thing, Jupiter and Mars! We'll find the kid!"

Mars is biting the helm of her skirt. "Oh, Saturn… Where are you?"

Crasher Wake suddenly stiffens. His back shoots straight up, as if he'd just received an echo location. "Right there!" He rushes to the other side of the bluff. "Hold on, kid! I'm coming!"

But before the Gym Leader even enters the water, a blur of silver zooms past their eyes. Jupiter gasps as Cyrus slips into the sea—shirt, pants, shoes and all—without even making a splash. A white line marks his swim—damn that cadence—and soon he's pushing into the rip current, all within the blink of an eye. Jupiter, Mars, and Crasher Wake hold their breaths.

Then Mars gasps. "Saturn!" Cyrus glides back to the shoreline. He deposits Saturn on the sand with a shaky exhale. Crasher Wake moves, but Cyrus is quicker. The latter presses his hands against Saturn's chest—and pushes. Saturn twitches. Cyrus scowls, compresses again, and leans inwards to perform mouth-to-mouth breathing.

After a tense minute—two minutes? An hour?—of compression and breathing, Saturn's eyelids snap open. He expels a fountain of seawater into his boss's face, gasping and choking like a dying Magikarp.

"Saturn!" Mars squeezes his hand. "Saturn, you're back!"

"Saturn!" Jupiter feels his face. "Can you hear us?"

Crasher Wake runs to the group with paramedics behind him. Cyrus attempts to help, but he sways upon standing up, and Crasher Wake catches him into those strong arms.

"Don't worry," the Gym Leader says to the surprised young man. "You've done everything you can. You deserve some rest, kid, while we leave it to the professionals."

After a thorough examination, the doctors declare that Saturn is good to go home. Jupiter bought him some juice from a vending machine. Mars won't let go of his hand, even though he assures her that they're not children anymore.

"I'm sorry," she's muttering. "I'm so sorry…"

"Shh, don't apologize, Mars. It's not your fault."

"It's no one's fault," Jupiter says. "The only thing that matters is that you're safe, Saturn. Come on. Let's go back before the last train leaves."

Cyrus is there in the waiting room. He has his hands against his forehead. Crasher Wake is sitting next to him, an untouched blanket in his arms. As the group enters, the Gym Leader gasps and looks up. "Oh! Saturn! You're okay!

Mars laughs. It's a soft laugh. "Yes, he's okay now! Thank you, Mister Wake!"

"Haha! Just call me Crasher Wake, Mars!"

Saturn tenses. Oh… that's him. He hasn't aged since…

"Thank you for saving him." Jupiter's shaking the hell out of the man's hands. "Thank you so much!"

"Thank you, Crasher Wake!" Mars bows her head.

"Oh, no need for that!" Crasher Wake musters a small, encouraging smile. The type that makes children believe that everything will be all right. "Mars and Jupiter, you should thank him instead. He's the one that swam out there, and he's the one that performed CPR."

"Boss…?" Saturn stares at the tall, lanky man. Cyrus shoves a dripping lock of hair from his face. He's frowning, but it's not his usual resting frown.

"Arceus, Cyrus." Jupiter grasps his ice block of a hand. "Cyrus… how'd you learn how to swim like that?"

Cyrus looks away. Boss knows CPR? Saturn touches his lips. His fingers tingle upon contact. His heart lurches a little in its ribcage.

"We should go," Cyrus grunts. "We'll miss our train." He saunters over to the luggage and picks it all up, staggering a bit before he rightens himself.

Mars runs to him. "Let me help, Boss."

"Saturn."

"Y-Yes, Boss?"

Cyrus stares at him. Saturn bites his lips. He swallows his pride and turns to the other man. "Thank you," he says flatly. "Crasher Wake."

"Like I said, you should thank your boss, not me." Then those beady eyes widen. "Excuse me, young man. I thought you looked familiar. Is that really you, Cyrus?"

Cyrus stiffens. He turns away before anyone can see the emotion on his face. "I'm sorry. We need to go. Thank you again, Crasher Wake."

"W-Wait! Cyrus! Cyrus, from Snowpoint? Did your eye heal yet? How's the Sneasel—"

"I'm sorry, but we're pressed for time." The Commanders barely succeed in matching Cyrus's ridiculously long strides. Crasher Wake's running out of breath. "Thank you again, sir. Farewell."

"W-Wait! Cyrus! Have you been taken care of yourse—"

Cyrus almost trips on boarding the train. He shoves the luggage aside and slumps into an empty seat, neverminding the incredulous stares directed to his way.

DING! The doors slide close. "THIS IS THE LAST TRAIN HEADING FOR HEARTHOME STATION. THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING SINNOH EXPRESS, AND WE HOPE TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

Chug… chug… The beachside rolls by the windows. Orange light floods into the train, bathing its chrome walls in dancing specks of light. Indiscernible whisperings bounce off Cyrus's shields. Why, even the air is crackling in the conditioned compartment. Frost leaks into the vents. Eventually people shuffle away to leave the four people to their own space.

Saturn glances at Mars, who glances at Jupiter, who shakes her head. "Cyrus." The older woman beckons the younger Commanders to sit. "Cyrus, look at me."

He does. Jupiter flinches but quickly recomposes himself. She opens her mouth, and no words come out. She tries again. And scowls and turns away.

"Boss…" There's so many things that Saturn wants to ask. So many things on his mind. But not now. There's a time and place for everything, but not now. Eventually. Eventually the boss will lift the curtains from his enigmatic past when he deems it safe to do so.

"Boss, I'm sorry," Mars whispers. "I-I know he couldn't swim, but I forced him to stay in the water."

Cyrus glares at her. She cringes. Jupiter's about to step in when he sighs. It's a long, heavy sigh. "Don't apologize." He's rubbing his temples with his eyes squeezes shut. "Don't… It's no one's fault. Everyone's safe now." Cyrus's shoulders are trembling slightly, but no one vocalizes that. Jupiter sets a strong hand on his arm. He stiffens, but he just sighs again.

Chug… Chug… The setting sun ushers in a sleepy spell over the private compartment. A magical incantation of dusty red skies and shimmering golden lights. The train lights flicker on. Tinny jazz music wafts from the speakers.

Saturn takes a deep breath. "Boss. You're amazing, you know. I… I never regretted my choice to stay with you. And when we founded Team Galactic… well, I was so happy to see that all your hard work and sacrifice finally paid off."

Silence. Saturn gingerly lifts his eyes. Cyrus has his arms crossed, one leg placed on the other, his back as straight as a ruler.

Then he nods. Saturn flushes, and the most timid of smiles peek on his lips.

"You are amazing, Master Cyrus," Mars whispers. "You're strong and confident. Haha… look. You do have eyebrows after all."

Another small nod.

Jupiter smirks. "Awfully humble today aren't we, Cyrus? Well, you deserve it, kiddo. You've really grown since the first time we met."

Mars laughs. "Aw, Boss. You're finally acknowledging compliments! Jupiter's right: you've grown so much!"

Jupiter blinks. "Wait. No, something's not right." She leans over Saturn. "Cyrus? Cyrus?" He nods again. The Commanders glance at each other. Saturn removes those thick nerd glasses from his boss.

"Is he awake?" Mars feels his pulse. "Oh, ew. He forgot to close his eyes."

Sure enough, if they listen carefully, they can hear his faint snoring. They can see his chest rising and falling against his arms. The train hits a notch in the tracks, his head bounces again, and his body slumps to the side—

"B-Boss?" Saturn accidently pushes back, and Cyrus almost falls to the floor if the former hadn't grabbed his sleeve. And the next thing Saturn knows, the boss—THE Boss—is leaning on his shoulder, his damp hair tickling Saturn's cheek.

"This is so cute!" Jupiter giggles. Saturn hisses through his teeth, but the women aren't helping at all. To make matters worse, his heart refuses to calm the heck down.

Cyrus's brow furrows. Everyone freezes. But the boss merely sighs and returns to whatever dream that he's having. His breath is cold and sterile, like faint morning mint.

"Master Cyrus would never let you do this, so consider yourself lucky, Saturn." Mars twirls a finger in the air, her touch landing on his burning ears. Fortunately, Cyrus isn't aware of the active volcano that he's sleeping on, so all is good in the world.

"The stress finally caught up to him," Jupiter murmurs. "Idiot pulled four all-nighters in a row. It's about damn time that he listened to his body."

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Cyrus is still knocked out, his snoring grazing against Saturn's reddened ears. Huh. This is the first time that I've ever seen the boss close his eyes. He looks so peaceful…

Mars had also taken the opportunity to lay her head on Cyrus's laps. He twitches, she stiffens, and peace is returned when he sinks deeper into Saturn's shoulder. The latter is losing feeling in that arm, but it's soooo worth it.

Jupiter is humming some song. She has her arm around her team—a strong, comforting presence. "Who the hell things that those glasses are cool?" she says at one point, earning a laugh from those who are still awake. The landscape rolls by—the lush forests receding to reveal mountains and craters and the familiar smell of city air.

DING. DING. "NEXT STOP, VEILSTONE CITY, THE SPACE SURROUNDED BY… WELL… ROCKS."

It's just another day at work when Saturn happens to look up from his DS to see that his boss had been standing there. Staring/glaring at him. Everyone else had stopped working a long time ago, and Saturn would've known any better if he wasn't slacking off.

"B-B-Boss! I-I can explain! Uh-uh-uh…"

Cyrus isn't in his room. For him to leave his office is a rare, shiny occurrence. And yet here he is. Just standing there. In a suit. Towering over Saturn's workstation as if he was merely another Grunt awaiting orders.

"He's gonna die," Mars whispers, earning a majority of sentiment from the Grunts.

Cyrus tilts her head. Saturn's world tips to the side. "Commander Jupiter, you're in charge."

"Um. Sure, Cy—sir. Yes, sir."

Cyrus is carrying a briefcase. The boss juts his chin. Saturn shoots out of his chair and follows the boss out of the room, out of the hallway, out of Headquarters—

OH FU—HE'S GONNA KILL ME AND CHOP OFF MY LIMBS AND THROW IT OVER A CLIFF HOLY SHI—

Families gawk when Cyrus marches into the gates. The man at the counter cowers as he accepts his money, and he waves the two spacemen in as if warding off ghosts.

OH SHI—HE'S GONNA DROWN ME AND DUMP MY BODY INTO THE POOL TO MAKE A LESSON OUT OF—

"Saturn."

OHSHISHISHISHISHI HE'S GONNA BURY ME IN MY SWIM TRUNKS AND FEED ME TO THE SHARPEDO—

"Saturn?"

"Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Ye-e-eash-h-h-h B-B-B-Bo-o-sshhhhh?"

Cyrus frowns. "Are you feeling unwell? We can head back then. Do let me know of your availability soon. Swimming may seem difficult at first, but given some practice, you'll surely excel at it, Saturn."