Ash sat on the edge of the cold, sterile examination table, his sneakers swinging back and forth as he tried to steady his breathing. The smell of sanitizer was sharp in his nose, and his stomach twisted in knots. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to think of something—anything—other than what was about to happen.

The door creaked open, and Ash’s eyes snapped open in panic. Gary stepped in, a small tray balanced in his hands. On it lay the dreaded syringe, along with alcohol wipes and a tube of numbing cream. Gary caught Ash’s horrified expression and sighed, setting the tray on the counter.

“Relax, Ashy-boy. It’s not the end of the world,” Gary said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Ash gulped. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting jabbed with a needle.”

Gary rolled his eyes but didn’t retort. For once, he could see just how scared Ash was, and it wasn’t the usual banter-worthy moment. “Look,” Gary said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “I get it, okay? Needles suck. But it’s gotta be done, and I promise it’ll be over before you know it.”

Ash fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “What if it hurts? What if—”

Gary held up a hand to stop him. “It won’t hurt if we use this.” He held up the tube of numbing cream. “This stuff’s a lifesaver. You won’t feel a thing.”

Ash eyed the cream suspiciously but nodded. “Fine. Just... don’t make it worse, okay?”

Gary chuckled. “When have I ever made anything worse?”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?”

Gary smirked. “Fair point. But seriously, I’m not gonna mess this up. Now, roll up your sleeve.”

Ash hesitated but eventually obeyed, pushing up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his arm. Gary grabbed an alcohol wipe and cleaned the area with practiced ease.

“Okay, numbing cream coming up,” Gary said, squeezing a dollop onto his gloved fingers. He gently applied it to Ash’s arm, his movements careful and deliberate.

Ash blinked in surprise. “You’re... actually being nice about this.”

Gary shrugged. “I may be your rival, but I’m not a monster. I know this stuff freaks you out.”

Ash relaxed slightly, though his eyes still darted nervously toward the syringe.

After a few minutes, Gary tested the area with a small poke. “Feel that?”

Ash shook his head.

“Good. That means the cream’s working.” Gary picked up the syringe, holding it up to the light to check for air bubbles. “Alright, Ash. Just look at me, okay? Don’t look at the needle.”

Ash’s eyes widened. “But—”

“Trust me,” Gary interrupted. “You’ll barely notice it if you focus on something else. So, what’s your favorite Pokémon again? Pikachu, right?”

Ash nodded, his eyes locking onto Gary’s. “Yeah... Pikachu.”

Gary smiled. “Right. So, what’s the coolest thing Pikachu’s done lately?”

Ash hesitated, then started talking about a recent battle. As he rambled, Gary deftly slid the needle into his arm and administered the shot.

“All done,” Gary said, capping the syringe and tossing it onto the tray.

Ash blinked. “Wait... what? That’s it?”

Gary smirked. “Told you it’d be quick.”

Ash stared at his arm, then back at Gary. “Huh... that wasn’t so bad.”

Gary clapped a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “See? Told you I’ve got your back, Ashy-boy.”

Ash rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Gary.”

Gary grinned. “Anytime. Now let’s go get some ice cream. You earned it.”

Ash jumped off the table, his nerves forgotten. Maybe Gary wasn’t so bad after all.