The school building was as modest as ever.
Only twelve desks filled the classroom, neatly arranged with plenty of space between them, giving the room a calm and comfortable atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, illuminating the chalkboard and the shelves lined with old books about Pokémon and the Kalos region.
As Alex stepped into the classroom, the soft chatter of students slowly died down.
"Alex?"
Miss Ave looked up from her desk, her expression immediately shifting to relief. She was a young teacher with a gentle presence, someone the students trusted easily. More importantly, she had once been a student of Alex's mother and now worked at the school while assisting in minor research projects.
"I heard you weren't feeling well," she said kindly. "How is your health now?"
Alex felt all twelve pairs of eyes turn toward him.
"I'm fine," he replied calmly. "Really."
Miss Ave studied him for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze thoughtful, as if she were trying to sense something beneath the surface. Finally, she smiled.
"That's good to hear," she said. "You may take your seat."
Alex nodded and walked to his desk.
The moment he sat down, Max leaned over from the side, lowering his voice.
"You disappeared," Max whispered. "You were gone for days."
"I was ill," Alex replied simply.
Max frowned. "That's all?"
Before Alex could answer, another voice joined in.
"You don't look sick."
Bex, Max's twin sister, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her sharp eyes fixed on Alex.
"He's hiding something," she said flatly.
Alex let out a quiet sigh. "I'm really fine."
Bex stared at him for a few seconds, then leaned back.
"…Whatever."
Max grinned. "Doesn't matter. You're back, that's what counts."
Alex turned forward, pretending not to notice the relief in his friend's voice.
The most interesting lessons of the day were Pokémon Studies and Pokémon History.
Miss Ave spoke about how humans and Pokémon once feared each other, how bonds replaced fear, and how each region developed its own traditions. She explained how research and understanding were just as important as strength, especially for those who wished to walk the path of a trainer or researcher.
Alex listened closely, absorbing every word.
At times, faint pressure brushed against the sealed memories deep within his mind—memories of another world—but he calmly pushed them back, keeping them locked away.
Not now.
When the final bell rang, chairs scraped against the floor and quiet chatter filled the room.
"Class dismissed," Miss Ave said warmly. "Be careful on your way home."
Alex packed his things and left the school, walking along the familiar stone-paved road toward home. The town was peaceful, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.
When he reached his house, Alex pushed the door open without thinking.
The first thing he noticed was the silence.
The second—
The empty ice cream box on the table.
Alex froze.
Slowly, he walked over and picked it up, tilting it desperately.
Nothing came out.
Not even a drop.
His face crumpled.
"…No…"
His eyes filled instantly with tears as he turned toward the living room couch.
Sitting there casually was a teenage girl with long, flowing blonde hair, one leg crossed over the other, holding a spoon and licking it clean with a satisfied expression.
Alex burst into tears.
"Aunt Cynthia!" he cried. "You ate my premium ice cream!"
Cynthia glanced at him lazily, then scooped the very last hidden bit from the corner of the box and ate it right in front of him.
"Mmm," she said. "Still amazing."
"That was limited edition!" Alex wailed. "You always do this! Every time you visit, you eat my snacks first!"
Cynthia laughed. "You noticed?"
"You even save the chocolate coating for last!" Alex accused.
Cynthia paused.
"…Okay, that's impressive."
Alex sniffed angrily. "You owe me."
She smiled mischievously. "How about this—stop crying, and I'll show you my Pokémon later."
Alex immediately stopped crying.
"…Deal."
Cynthia stood and stretched.
"I came as soon as I heard about the accident," she said more seriously. "I just won the Championship, but family comes first."
Alex wiped his face. "Mom's fine. She took a week off, but now she's busy with research again."
Cynthia sighed softly. "That sounds like her."
She glanced toward the kitchen. "I'll make dinner."
"I'll help!" Alex said quickly.
In the kitchen, as Cynthia prepared ingredients, Alex focused carefully.
Without touching them, milk cans and glass jars slowly lifted into the air, hovering steadily beside him. They moved smoothly, controlled, without shaking.
Cynthia stopped and stared.
"…Psychic powers," she murmured.
Alex nodded proudly. "I learned how to control them."
Her playful expression softened. "…You scared us, you know."
"I'm fine now," Alex said quietly, lowering the jars gently.
The door opened later that evening.
Elara stepped inside—and froze.
"…Cynthia?"
Her sister smiled warmly. "Hey."
Elara rushed forward and hugged her tightly. "You didn't have to come."
"Of course I did," Cynthia replied.
That night, the family sat together for dinner, laughter and warmth filling the room.
As they finished eating, Cynthia leaned back and smiled at Alex.
"I'll be staying for a few days," she said. "Someone has to take care of my cute nephew."
Alex narrowed his eyes.
"…You're still buying me ice cream."
Cynthia laughed.
And for the first time since the accident, the house felt truly complete.