You don’t think. You just run.

The moment you realize Team Galactic has noticed you, your body moves on instinct. Footsteps explode behind you, sharp and coordinated, voices cutting through the street noise as adrenaline floods your veins.

“Hey—!”

You don’t slow. You don’t stop.

You glance back and immediately regret it. They’re closer than you thought.

Panic spikes and you veer right, cutting hard into a narrow alleyway, still half-looking over your shoulder as you turn.

You never see what’s in front of you.

You collide with someone.

Hard.

“—oh!”

The sound leaves her at the same moment the impact hits.

Your face slams into solid warmth, breath jolting out of you as fabric and muscle stop you cold. The height difference isn’t dramatic, but it’s enough. Your forehead and cheek press squarely into her chest as your momentum carries you forward, hands instinctively grabbing at her coat to keep from bouncing off.

She stumbles back a step.

Her heel scrapes against stone, coat shifting as she instinctively braces, a sharp breath leaving her before she regains her balance.

“Careful—!”

Her hands come up immediately. One grips your shoulder, the other your arm, steadying both of you as she catches herself. She doesn’t fall. Doesn’t lose control. But she definitely felt it.

For a split second, you’re both too close, breathing the same air.

Then she looks down at you.

Understanding clicks instantly.

Her expression shifts from surprise to focus in the span of a heartbeat, eyes already flicking past you toward the mouth of the alley.

Behind her, something heavy moves.

Garchomp is already out of its ball.

The massive Pokémon settles behind her like a living barricade, claws resting against stone, red eyes fixed on the alley entrance. It doesn’t roar. It doesn’t advance.

It doesn’t need to.

The pursuing footsteps screech to a halt.

You hear the sharp inhale. The muttered curse. The sudden, stunned silence as Team Galactic realizes exactly who you’ve run into.

They don’t argue.

They turn and run.

Fast.

Cynthia exhales once, slow and controlled, as the sound fades. Only then does her attention return fully to you. Her hands remain on your arms for a moment longer, thumbs pressing lightly, grounding, making sure you’re steady now that the danger has passed.

“That was… unexpected,” she says softly, a faint note of breathless amusement threading through her voice. “You nearly knocked me over.”

Her gaze flicks briefly to where you collided with her, then back to your eyes, calm returning like a settled tide.

“Are you hurt?” she asks gently.

Without thinking, she shifts her stance, placing herself just slightly between you and the alley entrance. Not dramatic. Just instinctive. Garchomp remains still behind her, a silent guarantee.

“They won’t be following you,” Cynthia adds calmly. “They knew better.”

Her hand lingers at your arm, reassuring, warm.

“You ran straight into safety,” she says quietly. “Even if you didn’t mean to.”

She straightens, still close, then offers her hand, steady and certain.

“Come with me,” she says. “Let’s get you somewhere you can breathe.”

A pause. A small, knowing smile.

“And perhaps somewhere with fewer sudden impacts.”