The Pantheon

Lavander Town

Venus knew she was being overprotective.

Her tail had twitched at least seven times in the past minute. She kept counting—each twitch an unspoken warning to any wandering trainers, Pokémon, or ill-advised balloons that dared drift too close to her human.

She wasn’t alone in this.

Mars was stationed like a stone statue beside Gary, his tail flame steady but bright, eyes narrowed. He was still—too still—but that was how Mars did worry. His version of protectiveness was being a one-lizard wall of fire and muscle.

Venus didn’t need to puff her chest like that. She just stayed close. Her frill occasionally brushed against Ashley’s leg as she shifted. Her body was alert, her ears angled constantly toward the faintest sound behind or around them, even while she kept her gaze forward. The Contest Hall was filled with noise—applause, gasps, sudden bursts of elemental light from the stage. Too much chaos, too much clutter.

But she stayed still. Because Ashley hadn’t moved. Ashley was fine.

…Still. Venus leaned in again.

Ashley’s scent was steady—soap, fabric, a hint of sweet berries from earlier breakfast. No fear-scent. No pain-scent. Just her. Safe. Alive. Here.

Venus let out a low hum of contentment and pressed her side a little firmer against Ashley’s leg.

Mercury sat curled on Ashley’s lap, completely unbothered by the tension in the air. He had been the first to relax that morning, flopping onto Ashley’s legs like a pile of sleepy fluff. He didn’t twitch when the crowd clapped. He didn’t flinch when an Electrode exploded with sparkles on stage. He just… watched. Or maybe napped. Or both. His tail flicked lazily in time with the music.

Lucky kit.

Venus gave him a soft nudge with her snout, and Mercury blinked at her lazily before offering a cheeky little chirp and a big, unnecessary yawn.

She rolled her eyes.

From the side, Mars let out a low growl—not aggressive, just loud enough to register. He didn’t like Mercury’s attitude either.

Gary shifted slightly in his seat, resting his casted arm carefully on his lap. Mars’s tail flicked once in response, checking his posture, adjusting just slightly, eyes flicking to the trainer’s shadow like it might betray something dangerous.

Venus couldn’t blame him.

It had only been a couple of weeks since the sea. Since the light. Since the weight of water and pressure and the way Ashley’s body had gone limp in her arms. Venus’s breath hitched just remembering it. Even now, in the safety of the Contest Hall with lights and flowers and bored teenagers fidgeting in their seats, her chest tightened when she thought about the moments she couldn’t protect her trainer.

Her paws dug slightly into the plush carpet. She inhaled deeply through her nose. She smelled that ridiculous shampoo from Celadon that Ashley had bought and come to adore (who combines strawberry and rose? It’s too sweet!). She was fine.

She was fine.

But Venus still stayed pressed against her side.

She watched every appeal with half-lidded eyes that didn’t miss a single movement. A Togetic dipped too close to the audience in one performance. Venus tensed. A Luxio used Discharge near the curtains and startled a stagehand. Venus’s frill bristled. A Maractus spun too fast and nearly crashed into the judge's table. Venus’s ears tilted.

Ashley’s hand moved slightly, and fingers threaded gently through Venus’s head frill, scratching behind one of her fins in that exact way that made her tail flick with mild annoyance she pretended not to like.