Another day, another brush with death.
"Dimensional collapse" sure was a new one. For all the sick fucks keeping score of each unique way he'd almost died, that'd bring it to about... somewhere in the thirties.
Ash stopped counting after Hoenn: Lucario wouldn't want him dwelling on it, he figures. Kinda hard not to, considering how the universe seemed dead set on showing him more Lucarios and ripping his heart in half all over again, but hey.
He's used to it by now.
Besides, nobody died was seriously hurt, and wherever Cyrus ended up, he wouldn't be putting anyone in danger again. Cynthia helped out again, too! Surely that's worth calling a victory. And for the sake of his own sanity, Ash files the whole ordeal away as one.
But he still has to consider the crushing revelation that Dawn and Brock were chosen. From Ash's experience, being chosen by a legendary leads to some pretty shitty times for everyone involved. Mesprit and Uxie seemed benevolent, but so was Latios, and look how well that ordeal turned out...
Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe he'll still be around to keep them safe.
Maybe.
Life's unpredictable in the best and worst ways possible.
She's been watching him for the better part of an hour, and Cynthia's floored by just how little reaction Ash has shown. He's been observing Spear Pillar- or what's left of it, anyway- in complete silence, only pausing to answer the occasional question from the police or check in with his Pokémon and friends. It's all just... natural, a carefully practiced routine.
What horrors could bring someone so young to that point? She knew something was different about Ash from the moment they met, his bold but not at all arrogant promise to compete in the Sinnoh league and a smile rarely reaching his eyes. But this?
No, this is something else entirely.
The cause is at least somewhat obvious; Cynthia isn't ignorant, she learned about his numerous encounters with Hunter J. No one could walk away from nearly burning alive or falling to their doom or getting crushed in a Drapion's goddamn claw without being changed. Guilt hammers Cynthia every time the information resurfaces, knowing she failed to protect three innocent children from someone so monstrous.
And if her intuition is correct, the tragedies in Alto Mare and Rota... perhaps Ash was there, too.
She tried here, she really did, to prevent history from repeating itself. But Arceus thought otherwise, Cynthia supposes grimly.
Arceus thought otherwise.
Ash doesn't know what to do now. He could leave with Dawn and Brock if he wants, but Cynthia stands in the way, both literally and figuratively.
She knows. Her aura told him everything: regret, sympathy, understanding, sorrow, a torrent of emotion hidden behind a calm and composed mask. They're alike in that way, always strategically hiding their true feelings for the sake of others.
Now Ash feels guilty for making her worry, and for dragging yet another bystander into his own problems. The total's reached an astounding level by now (not that he was ever counting to begin with.) Maybe he owes it to her to talk, to explain why these things always happen and how he'd gotten so damn used to the pain. They have a lot more in common than he first thought, after all.
But what would it change?
Nothing. The cycle will keep repeating like a broken record.
Eventually it'll be him and Pikachu again, staring down the grim reaper.
Lonely, and even more hopeless.
Ash wants to cry, and after all the times he held his tears back, the strength to resist simply isn't there anymore.
"Masks are powerful things. Take care not to let them become permanent."
Cynthia hadn't given her grandmother's advice much thought. The Champion was always honest, as to be expected of someone in her position, so containing her feelings seemed nonsensical.
At least until the funeral.
Champions weren't allowed to show weakness, at least back then. Times were different, and the League wanted the most powerful trainers in the world to serve as bastions of composure and poise, even in the grimmest of situations. "In the interest of maintaining the public's trust," they reasoned, not at all considering the potential consequences.
So Cynthia hid her grief and hated every second of it. The woman who raised her and loved her, gone, and she had to pretend nothing was amiss, that she was "healing" from the loss. Those months were the most agonizing of her entire life, a Hell she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.
Least of all Ash.
As he sobs into her shoulder, Pikachu held in his arms and friends gathered to provide whatever comfort they can, Cynthia understands.
"I'm sorry, Ash," she apologizes, embracing him. "I'm sorry."
Things changed after Spear Pillar. More hugs, more reassuring words (at least more than normal), and more visits from Cynthia.
Was it worth opening up and making himself vulnerable?
Ash honestly doesn't know. But everyone promised that, no matter what, they'd always love and be there for him. He can only hope he won't let them down.
Things changed after Spear Pillar. There's more happiness in Ash's once-joyless smiles, Cynthia notices.
Not all of them are sincere, but on the occasions he tries to hide behind that facade, she's quick to put a stop to it and ask what's wrong.
It's not always easy, but a shoulder to lean on (and maybe cry on, too) goes a long way.