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The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of garden trees, casting dappled patches of warm gold across the soft grass below. The air was gentle — just warm enough to wrap the world in comfort, with a breeze that lazily meandered through the flowerbeds and rustled the petals like a lullaby. The garden behind the Champion Estate was alive with colour and serenity, a little pocket of peace hidden away from battles and leagues and arenas.
Cynthia lay cradled in a wide hammock strung between two white-barked sycamores, its woven threads creaking ever so softly as it rocked back and forth. Her long golden hair spilt over the side in silken waves, catching the sun with every gentle sway. One hand held open the soft pages of a novel, the other rested protectively on the small body curled beside her.
Irine, now five years old and full of spirit and sparkle, lay tucked up against her mama’s side, her little head nestled just beneath Cynthia’s collarbone. Her hair — longer now, a lovely fusion of Dawn’s deep blue and Cynthia’s style - was tied back in a loose braid, with tiny pink clips shaped like Pecha berries pinning her fringe out of her eyes. She wore a simple sundress dotted with Skitty prints, her bare feet swinging lazily off the edge of the hammock as she clutched a plushie of a Budew with one arm.
Her eyes, those storm-grey orbs she’d inherited from Cynthia, were half-lidded, dreamy. Not quite asleep, but resting. Drowsy in the way only a child could be on a warm afternoon, surrounded by love and safety.
Cynthia read aloud softly — not with the cadence of performance, but with a warm rhythm that soothed rather than stirred. It wasn’t a children’s book either, but a fairytale collection, filled with ancient myths from the Sinnoh region. She altered the language subtly as she read, simplifying when necessary, making the stories of ancient Pokémon and long-forgotten trainers come alive in a way only a mother could.
“And so, the old woman gave the boy a single Sitrus berry” Cynthia murmured, her voice a low hum that blended with the rustling of the trees “And he planted it on the hill where the stars touched the ground. From it grew a tree that whispered dreams to those who slept beneath it…”
Irine yawned.
A soft, dainty sound, accompanied by a nuzzle closer into Cynthia’s side. Her tiny hand found a loop in Cynthia’s sleeve and clung there gently, like a Shinx pressing into its Luxray mother. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions. Not this time. Just listened.
Across from them, beneath a wide-limbed tree heavy with pink blossoms, Dawn sat on a plush garden bench wrapped in violet cushions and a sky-blue throw. Her hat lay forgotten on the grass, her blue hair slightly mussed by the wind. She had her legs tucked up, arms folded loosely, and her head tilted against the backrest. Sleep had crept over her slowly and now held her in its gentle grasp. Her breaths came slow and even, and every now and then, her head would tilt just a bit to the side as if chasing a dream.
Beside her — resting like guardians around royalty — were the family’s loyal Pokémon.
Dawn’s Empoleon sat in a regal heap, dozing but alert, his metallic fins twitching slightly with the occasional breeze. His steel-blue armour shimmered in the filtered sunlight, a stark contrast to his soft snores. One of his flipper-like arms twitched now and then, as though dreaming of battle... or snacks.
Cynthia’s ever-intimidating yet now entirely lazy Garchomp lay sprawled out on its side in the grass near the hammock, tail curled, head resting on one arm like a drowsy watchdog. But otherwise looked the picture of contentment. Once a terror in the ring, now a gentle giant of the garden.
And near Garchomp’s belly, buzzing softly in her sleep, floated a tiny, glimmering shape.
Honeydrop, Irine’s shiny Combee.
Unlike most Combee, Honeydrop shimmered in soft pastel orange, her wings glinting almost opalescent in the sunlight. She hovered slightly in her dreams, never quite landing, her tiny buzz a lullaby all its own. Every now and then, her sleepy wings would beat once, twice, before falling still again, as if even in rest she was guarding her beloved girl.
Cynthia paused her reading for a moment and looked down at her daughter. Irine had shifted again, her face now turned toward her mother’s shoulder, lips parted, her breath warming the crook of Cynthia’s neck. Her lashes, dark and delicate, fluttered faintly as she fought sleep and lost gloriously.
Cynthia leaned down and pressed a kiss into the crown of Irine’s hair “You’re safe” She whispered, the book resting forgotten against her chest “My little light”
The hammock creaked gently again, swaying in slow rhythm.
“...Mama...” Irine murmured, her voice syrupy with drowsiness.
“I’m here” Cynthia replied instantly, her arm curling tighter around her daughter’s small frame.
Irine sighed — a long, happy sigh — and snuggled deeper into her mother’s side, Budew plush still clutched in her arms, one leg flopped over Cynthia’s hip in a manner only a sleepy child could manage.
From across the garden, Dawn stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to glimpse the two of them.
Her lips curled into a sleepy smile, and she whispered to no one in particular “My girls…”
Then her head tilted back again, and she slipped peacefully into sleep once more.
The wind picked up gently, brushing through the leaves and causing the flower petals overhead to drift downward like pink snowflakes. One landed softly on Irine’s cheek and stayed there, unmoving. The sunlight, the breeze, the scent of flowers, the breath of three slumbering Pokémon, the quiet presence of Dawn, and the steady warmth of Cynthia’s arms created a world so gentle it could only be real in the best kind of dreams.
And in that moment, the world was still. Safe.
And absolutely perfect.
The story had long since faded into the background, the book resting loosely in Cynthia’s hand, pages gently flapping in the lazy afternoon breeze. Her voice had stilled some time ago, not from the end of a tale but from something far sweeter — the kind of pause that happens when the moment is simply too perfect to continue. The kind where even words feel too loud.
Irine was still tucked up beside her, her little five-year-old form warm and floppy from near-nap drowsiness. Her breathing was soft and even, but not quite at a sleep level. There was a subtle tension in her limbs, that special kind of stillness where a child pretends to be asleep to see if they can trick you — or maybe to see what affection they can fish out in the process.
Cynthia smiled to herself, recognising the game instantly.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, she reached over to place the book gently on the side table that sat just beneath the hammock’s reach, the old spine making the faintest thump as it landed. Then, she turned back to her daughter, her arm slipping easily around Irine’s small frame again.
“You think you’re being clever” Cynthia murmured, amusement lacing her voice.
Irine didn’t respond, though the corners of her lips twitched suspiciously.
“Oh? So you’re asleep?” Cynthia asked, cocking an eyebrow with mock seriousness “Totally unconscious. Can’t hear a thing. Hmmm…”
Then — without warning — Cynthia raised her hand, two fingers poised with precision, and wiggled them through the air like a predator stalking its prey.
And struck.
She gently, slowly, teasingly tickled the tip of Irine’s nose.
Irine’s nose twitched in protest. Her eyes squinched shut tighter as she stifled a squeal. Another gentle wiggle of Cynthia’s fingers across her daughter’s button nose, and Irine burst out in the tiniest peal of giggles — a bright, squeaky laugh that cracked through the warm quiet like a sunbeam.
“Maaaamaaa!” Irine giggled, curling up on herself in a half-squeal “Nohoho tickling!”
Cynthia grinned like a Garchomp who’d found a hidden berry stash “Oh? No tickling? But you looked suspiciously awake to me…”
Irine squealed again as Cynthia’s hand swooped down for a second attack — not fierce or relentless, just the softest brush against the side of her daughter’s nose, barely a touch but enough to send another ripple of ticklish delight through her little body.
Irine, desperate to escape, squirmed in the hammock, her bare feet kicking the air as she tried to shield her face with both hands. But her giggles kept bubbling up like an overexcited Piplup in a bubble bath, giving her away completely.
“I surrender!” She squeaked through her laughter, voice high and theatrical “Nohoho more nose tickles!”
But her voice betrayed her delight. She wasn't trying to escape — not really. Her legs flopped dramatically and then, in a sudden motion, she curled tighter into Cynthia’s side, pressing her face against her mother’s chest like a little Shinx burrowing into its den.
“There you are” Cynthia said warmly, wrapping her arms around the bundle of giggles now hiding against her “Safe and sound. Protected from the terrible tickle monster”
Irine peeked up with wide grey eyes, her cheeks pink from laughter, her smile crooked and joyful “You are the tickle monster”
Cynthia leaned down, pressing her nose to her daughter’s temple “Guilty as charged”
Irine giggled again but softer this time, settling fully into her mother’s arms. Her knees bent up under her, feet tucked beneath her like a curled-up Skitty, and her arms found their familiar place under Cynthia’s arm and around her waist. Her head rested against her mother’s collarbone, where she could feel Cynthia’s heartbeat and her warmth and the faint floral scent that clung to her skin.
From the bench, Dawn stirred slightly in her sleep and murmured something unintelligible with a smile.
Empoleon cracked one eye open before closing it again, and Garchomp snorted once in its dreams, flapping its tail as if to shoo away the sun.
Honeydrop, now hovering just a few inches above the grass again, let out a tiny, buzzy brrzzzt in her own kind of sleepy protest, then drifted back down with a tiny plop into the crook of a sun-warmed leaf.
Back in the hammock, Cynthia rocked gently, her cheek resting on the top of Irine’s soft blue hair.
“You’re my favorite tickle victim, you know” She whispered.
Irine huffed a sleepy little puff of laughter and replied, muffled by her mother’s shirt “I’ll get you back. When you're napping”
Cynthia grinned “I’ll be waiting”
And as the hammock swayed, the garden held its breath in the peace of a summer moment — the air filled with warmth, lavender, and the laughter of a child wrapped in her mother’s arms.
The warm hush of the garden was beginning to shift, that golden hour light thickening just slightly, casting longer shadows and softening the edges of everything it touched. The hammock still swayed gently beneath the sycamores, cradling mother and daughter like a leaf holding morning dew. Irine had finally quieted from her fit of giggles, now half-draped over Cynthia in a tangle of limbs and sleepy satisfaction, her Budew plush squashed between them like a longtime companion in crime.
But Cynthia’s eyes weren’t on the book anymore, nor on the sleepy shimmer of the petals that drifted lazily from the trees above. Her gaze had wandered to the patch of open grass just a few meters away, where the sun bathed the clearing in a rich, golden spotlight. A sudden idea — warm, playful, irresistible — sparked in her expression. Her lips curled.
She glanced down at the little bundle against her side, smirking “Hey, Irine?”
A murmur “Mm?”
“Wanna have a battle?”
That did the trick.
Irine shot up like a spring-loaded Togepi. Her stormy eyes popped open with wide, unfiltered excitement “A battle?! Really? Like... like the League?!”
Cynthia laughed softly “Not exactly like the League, sweetheart. A play-battle. So you can practice. You and Honeydrop versus me and… let’s say… a stand-in plushie?”
Irine gasped like she’d been offered a key to the Champion’s throne room “YES! Yesyesyesyes!”
In one chaotic, adorable blur, she tried to clamber out of the hammock in what could only be described as a high-speed tangle of elbows, knees, and squeaky determination.
“Careful!” Cynthia chuckled, reaching to steady her.
“I got it! I’m a future Champion!” Irine declared as one leg flopped off the side while her other got momentarily caught in the hammock’s weave “I will escape the silk prison of the hammock!”
Cynthia snorted and helped guide her down before Irine declared war on the furniture. “Just don’t start a Pokémo battle in the hammock. Your Comber tried that once. We don’t talk about what happened to the garden fence”
Irine stood proudly on the grass, arms akimbo, her dress puffed like a warrior’s cloak “Honeydrop! Ready for action!”
Honeydrop, still nestled in the curve of a leaf, let out a drowsy little buzz and fluttered up into the air, her three cheerful faces blinking slowly as if to say: Wait, what? Battle now? I just woke up!
Meanwhile, Cynthia gracefully slid off the hammock with the sort of poise one develops after years of climbing mountains in heels and commanding dragons in front of thousands. She stretched her arms out, her back arching slightly as she drew in a long breath, her hair catching the light and swaying around her like a cape.
But before she joined her daughter on the grass, she turned her head toward the plush garden bench.
Dawn was still there — dozing, her head tilted gently to the side, mouth slightly open, one arm curled against her body while the other hung limply at her side. The fading sun highlighted the deep blue of her hair and the soft curve of her cheek, making her look like something out of a dream.
Cynthia softened. Completely.
She padded over to the bench in bare feet, her steps quiet on the soft grass, and knelt beside her wife. For a moment, she just watched her. Then she leaned forward, brushing her nose gently against Dawn’s in the softest, most loving nuzzle.
Dawn stirred.
“Mmm… Combee song again?” She mumbled, squinting “Tell them it’s not their turn to headline the festival…”
Cynthia chuckled quietly and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her wife’s lips. The kind that said 'I love you' without needing to be grand. Warm, slow, deliberate.
Dawn blinked, then sighed into the kiss, smiling as she tilted her head to kiss back. When they finally pulled apart, she was smiling sleepily “Hello, gorgeous” She murmured.
“I could say the same” Cynthia whispered, brushing Dawn’s bangs away from her forehead “Wake up now fully, sleepyhead. Your daughter’s about to challenge me to an epic duel”
Dawn blinked again “A what?”
“A play-battle. She's going to learn how to use Honeydrop's moves”
Dawn straightened with a sleepy but delighted grin “Oh, Arceus help us all”
From across the garden, Irine called dramatically “Mamaaaaa! I’m READY TO BATTLE!”
Dawn giggled “Better not keep the tiny Champion waiting”
Cynthia gave her one more quick kiss on the nose — just because — then stood, brushing the grass from her knees “Wish me luck. She's ferocious”
Dawn curled up more comfortably on the bench, pulling the throw blanket over her lap “You’re doomed. But I’ll cheer for both of you”
And with that, Cynthia turned and strode barefoot across the grass toward her waiting daughter, hands on her hips, face painted with faux seriousness “Alright, Trainer Irine” She said, voice projecting with theatrical flair “Let’s see what you and Honeydrop are made of!”
Irine beamed like she’d just been knighted. Honeydrop buzzed excitedly beside her, looping through the air like a pastel-orange blur of energy.
And from the bench, Dawn watched — eyes shining, heart full — as her wife and daughter prepared for a battle that wouldn’t earn badges or trophies, but would build something far more important:
Joy.
Confidence.
And memories that would sparkle for a lifetime.
Cynthia stood proudly in the middle of the sun-dappled garden, her bare feet planted in the soft grass, a playful glint in her eyes and a giant, squishy Poké Puff plushie clutched under one arm. It was absurdly oversized — round, fluffy, and glittering faintly with stitched-on sugar crystals. Irine had won it at a festival last spring by hurling beanbags at stacked bottles with terrifying enthusiasm. It was now about to be repurposed as the most fabulous 'opponent' ever seen in a Pokémon battle.
With dramatic flair befitting a Sinnoh Champion, Cynthia strode to the center of the garden clearing and placed the Poké Puff down with exaggerated reverence.
“Here lies your noble opponent!” She announced, stepping back with folded arms “The fearsome… Sir Puffington the Third!”
From the bench, Dawn giggled behind her hand “Is that his name now?”
Cynthia turned, deadly serious “It is now”
Irine, already bouncing on her toes like a mini-Trainer about to challenge the Elite Four, burst out laughing “He’s not scary! He looks like he wants hugs!”
Cynthia nodded gravely “Exactly. That’s his strategy. Disarm his enemies with cuteness. But you, brave Irine, must stand firm!”
Irine straightened like a soldier, pointing at the plushie with one small finger “Honeydrop and I aren’t afraid of anyone!”
“Attagirl” Cynthia praised, then knelt down to Irine’s level.
Honeydrop buzzed softly in the air beside her Trainer, wings whirring gently, her three orange faces blinking with curiosity and a tiny bit of confusion — mostly at the fact that their 'opponent' was… very fluffy and smelled faintly of marshmallows.
Cynthia reached over and tapped one of Honeydrop’s tiny wings with the tip of her finger, as if knighting her.
“Now, before we start” She said, her voice shifting into warm instructive tones “You need to know what Honeydrop can do”
Irine blinked “You mean her moves?”
“That’s right. Every Pokémon starts with just a few moves — and some Pokémon learn more as they grow, but for now, Honeydrop knows four”
Irine’s eyes sparkled. She crouched down next to her Combee, who buzzed proudly and flitted a tiny loop in the air.
“What are they?” Irine asked, eyes locked on her partner like she was meeting a legendary Pokémon instead of her own bug baby.
Cynthia raised a finger “First: Bug Bite. That’s a physical move. If your opponent is holding a berry or something edible, your Combee can chomp it right out of their grasp and deal damage”
“Chomp?” Irine echoed, tilting her head “But Honeydrop doesn’t have teeth”
“She has mystical bug chompers” Cynthia replied, deadly serious again.
Dawn snorted on the bench “You’re making things up again”
“It’s for science” Cynthia replied. Then she leaned toward Irine again “Alright, second move: Gust. That’s a wind move. Honeydrop flaps her wings really fast and creates a tiny tornado to blow the opponent back”
“Like fwooooosh!” Irine said, waving both arms in a circle.
“Exactly like that” Cynthia chuckled “Very good form”
Irine beamed.
Cynthia continued, holding up a third finger “Third: Struggle Bug. It sends out a wave of buzzing energy that makes it harder for the other Pokémon to concentrate. Their special attacks get weaker”
“Like it makes them go ‘Ahhh! Too much bug noise!’?” Irine asked, pulling her hands over her ears and flopping dramatically onto the grass.
“Perfect impression” Cynthia laughed “Ten out of ten”
“And the last one?” Irine asked, peeking up through her fingers.
Cynthia’s smile softened as she held up four fingers “Sweet Scent. A gentle, pretty-smelling move that makes the opponent calm down. It lowers their evasiveness — it’s like making them too dreamy to dodge”
Irine sat up straight “Honeydrop smells really nice” She said seriously “Like vanilla and flowers”
“She uses it on me all the time” Cynthia whispered conspiratorially “I nearly hugged a wild Stunky once because of it”
Dawn howled from the bench “You what?!”
Cynthia held up a hand “I was momentarily out of my senses! Sweet Scent is powerful!”
Irine burst into another round of giggles, falling onto her back in the grass, flailing her arms. Honeydrop fluttered above her and made a soft bzzt sound, clearly pleased with the attention and unaware she had been blamed for potential Stunky snuggles.
Once Irine sat back up, Cynthia placed both hands on her knees and smiled at her daughter.
“Alright, Irine. You know the moves. You’ve got the team. You’ve got the arena...” She gestured to the open patch of soft lawn between the trees, now adorned with Sir Puffington the Third, who remained unmoved and deeply squishable “...and you’ve got the heart of a Champion. Are you ready for your first play-battle?”
Irine’s eyes blazed with excitement. She puffed out her chest, pointed at Honeydrop, and declared “We’re ready! Let’s make that puff POOF!”
Cynthia rose, her expression one of pure, amused admiration “That’s my girl"
And from the bench, where she had pulled the throw blanket around her shoulders and was now resting her chin in her hands, Dawn sighed with that familiar look of awe — the one she always wore when she realized she was watching her two favorite people in the world become their best selves in front of her eyes.
“My whole heart” She whispered to no one but the breeze.
And so, under a sky of soft light and laughter, in a garden built from love and petals and peace, the tiniest Trainer prepared for her very first 'battle'. Against a marshmallow-shaped plush. With a shiny Combee. Under the watchful, smiling eyes of the two people who loved her more than anything in the world.
Cynthia stood just behind Irine, her arms folded loosely, a warm smile on her face. She towered like a wise guardian, her golden hair catching the breeze while her expression stayed soft — no trace of the fierce Champion of Sinnoh, only the gentle encouragement of a proud mother. One of her hands rested lightly on Irine’s shoulder, a grounding touch, a quiet anchor. Her other hand gestured as she spoke, pointing to Honeydrop who hovered eagerly above the 'opponent'.
“Alright, Trainer Irine” Cynthia said with playful gravity “We’re in your first mock battle. You’re the Commander here. Your job is to choose the right move, keep Honeydrop safe, and figure out the best way to deal with Sir Puffington”
Irine stood tall — or as tall as a five-year-old could, which was mostly bouncing in place with excitement. Her little fists clenched at her sides like she’d seen her mama do on League broadcasts, and her face was painted with focus and glee.
“Okay!” She shouted “Honeydrop, use… umm… GUST!”
Cynthia smiled “Good! Let’s see how she does it”
Honeydrop buzzed with enthusiasm, the three orange faces on her little hexagon body blinking and lighting up. She rose higher in the air, her tiny translucent wings beating faster and faster until they hummed like a distant fan. A whirling spiral of wind started to form beneath her, kicking up petals and blades of grass as it surged toward the plushie target.
“Fwoooooosh!” Irine shouted, twirling in place.
THUMP!
The wind hit Sir Puffington with a heroic pomf sound, flattening the plushie dramatically onto its side.
Irine gasped, delighted “She DID IT!”
“You gave the command, Trainer” Cynthia said proudly “That’s teamwork”
From her bench, Dawn had perked up again, wrapped in her soft blanket, eyes twinkling as she sat forward “That was amazing, baby girl!” She called “You’re a natural!”
Irine’s entire face lit up at her mother’s voice. She spun on her heel and waved wildly, nearly falling over from enthusiasm “Mama, did you see?! Honeydrop did the spinny wind!”
“I saw” Dawn beamed “You’re stronger than a Hurricane, sweetheart!”
Behind her, Empoleon stood with his flippers crossed, nodding solemnly, which in Empoleon-language was the equivalent of a standing ovation. Next to him, Garchomp gave an approving rumble and a low "whuurrh", tail flicking behind her like a rhythm drumbeat.
“Even Garchomp’s impressed” Cynthia whispered “And she doesn’t praise anyone who can’t knock over a small hill”
Irine giggled and turned back to the 'battle', her brow furrowed in comically serious concentration “Okay, next… Honeydrop! Use Bug Bite!”
Honeydrop zipped lower toward Sir Puffington, her antenae reaching out as she zoomed in. The faces on her body opened their tiny mouths in synchronized glee as she gently chomped down on the oversized plushie’s felt arm.
“She’s biting it!” Irine squealed, hopping in place.
Sir Puffington wobbled.
“Perfect” Cynthia praised “Bug Bite is all about quick movement and a little chomp. It works best when the other Pokémon’s carrying berries or something important — so your goal is to act fast”
“I love Honeydrop’s bite!” Irine cheered.
“She’s a fierce cupcake” Cynthia added, crossing her arms.
Honeydrop hovered back, her wings buzzing proudly. She did a little mid-air spin, and one of her faces let out an excited "bzzrrrzt!" like a baby victory cry.
“All right” Cynthia said, crouching slightly behind Irine “Let’s try Struggle Bug. It’s a wave move. Tell her to focus and spread her wings wide”
Irine nodded fiercely and lifted her arm like she was casting a spell “Honeydrop! STRUGGLE BUUUUUG!”
Honeydrop's wings opened wider than ever, and from her tiny body, a soft pulse of green-yellow energy radiated outward in a shimmering ripple, like the air itself had been strummed like a guitar. It passed harmlessly through the plushie, but to Irine, it looked like a real wave of bug magic.
Cynthia rested her hand lightly on her daughter's shoulder again “That one’s perfect for confusing and lowering the opponent’s confidence. A little noise goes a long way”
“I wanna use it when someone’s being mean!” Irine declared “I’ll Struggle Bug ‘em!”
Dawn covered her mouth, stifling laughter “Remind me not to take her toy Poffins…”
“Final move” Cynthia said, gently “Sweet Scent. This one's soft. Gentle. Think of it like… perfume made of hugs”
Irine inhaled dramatically and spun like a flowery ballerina “Honeydrop! Do the huggy perfume move!”
Honeydrop hovered closer to Sir Puffington and released a soft, glittery pink mist from her tiny body. It sparkled in the light and drifted toward the plushie, leaving behind the sweet scent of clover and sugar. The petals on the grass fluttered in the air like it had started snowing perfume.
“Sir Puffington is too enchanted to move!” Irine announced triumphantly.
“Perfect” Cynthia whispered, standing to her full height “You’ve just mastered your first full set of moves, Irine. You and Honeydrop are a team now”
Irine looked up at her, her smile so big it could’ve split the sky. Then she turned toward the bench and shouted “Mamaaaa! Did you seeeee?!”
Dawn stood now, hands clasped in front of her heart, misty-eyed and beaming “You were incredible, sweetheart! Honeydrop too!”
Irine spun around, arms spread, and Honeydrop zipped around her joyfully like they were doing a victory dance together.
From the sidelines, Empoleon let out a proud "chrrrrruhh!" and pumped one flipper into the air like a coach declaring a win.
Garchomp rumbled again, tilting its head at Honeydrop and giving a single approving nod.
Cynthia watched it all — her little girl aglow with joy, her wife radiant with pride, and even their Pokémon sharing in the cheer — and felt a gentle swell in her chest.
This... this was what real triumph looked like. Not in arenas or with badges, but in sunlight and laughter, and a tiny bug Pokémon giving it her all with the Trainer who loved her most.
Cynthia leaned toward Dawn as she returned to her side and whispered “First battle, huh?”
Dawn leaned against her shoulder and whispered back “First of many"
Irine stood victorious in the middle of the grass, cheeks flushed, blue hair slightly tousled from all the twirling and skipping, and her little arms raised over her head like a pint-sized Champion. Honeydrop buzzed in loops above her, glowing with excitement and pride, the orange of her shiny wings flashing in the sunlight.
But it wasn’t the 'win' that made Irine’s heart race. It wasn’t even the battle. It was what had come with it — the feeling of being trusted, guided, encouraged. Of being seen.
And there, just a few steps away, stood the two people who made her whole world.
“Mama! Mommy!” She shouted, her voice bright and bursting with joy as she turned on her heel and sprinted back toward them.
Cynthia barely had time to open her arms before Irine barreled into her with full-speed, giggling momentum. She caught her daughter with practiced ease, stumbling back just half a step before sweeping the girl up into her arms.
Irine wrapped her arms around Cynthia’s neck and squeezed tight, burying her face into her mama’s shoulder. Her words came muffled but bursting with sincerity:
“Thank you!”
Cynthia blinked, then melted.
She wrapped both arms around her daughter tighter and hugged her close, nose pressed into Irine’s soft blue hair, inhaling the scent of grass and petals and something uniquely her. Then she laughed — a deep, melodic laugh from the heart — and spun.
She twirled in a wide, lazy circle right there in the garden, holding Irine tight, the girl squealing and laughing as the world swirled around them in blurs of green and gold. Her little legs flew out behind her like streamers, and her voice bubbled into the open air:
“Wheeeeee!”
Cynthia finally slowed, then kissed Irine’s cheek with exaggerated flair “You were incredible out there, my little bee”
Irine, breathless and giggling, tucked her head beneath Cynthia’s chin “You let me really do it! Like a real battle! You showed me all the moves!”
“I did” Cynthia said softly, rocking her gently “Because I trust you. And because you and Honeydrop are amazing together”
Just then, Dawn reached them, her throw blanket still draped over her shoulders like a cloak, her smile wide and warm as sunlight.
She looked up at her daughter — still cradled against Cynthia’s chest, her hair sticking out in every direction from all the excitement, her face glowing with joy — and something in her chest ached in that beautiful, tender way that only mothers could know.
She raised a hand and brushed a bit of windblown hair from Irine’s forehead, then cupped her cheek with her palm.
“You were amazing, Irine” She said softly, lovingly “You were brave, focused, kind to Honeydrop, and you listened so well. You made me so proud”
Irine looked at her Mommy, eyes wide and gleaming like polished stones, and her whole body gave a tiny, involuntary wiggle of delight — caught between bashfulness and happiness so big it made her squirm.
“I wanted you to be proud...” She whispered.
Dawn stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s nose “We always are”
Irine let out a little squeak of joy and flopped forward out of Cynthia’s arms into Dawn’s for a second hug, giggling the whole time as her two mothers traded amused looks and shifted her back and forth between them like the most cherished treasure.
Nearby, Honeydrop buzzed excitedly, twirling loops again, and Empoleon and Garchomp both offered quiet sounds of approval — one a deep-throated rumble, the other a dignified nod of flippers.
For a while, there was no battle. No audience. No arena. Just the rustling trees, the soft petals that fell like confetti, and the little girl wrapped in the arms of the two people who would always, always be her home.
And she knew — no matter where her journey went from here, no matter how many real battles she’d one day fight — this would be the one she’d always carry with her:
Her first 'fight'.
Her first win.
And the moment her mamas hugged her like she’d just conquered the world.