Ash swung his legs nervously as he sat on the examination table, his hands gripping the edges tightly. His palms were clammy, and the faint smell of sanitizer in the room made his stomach churn. He knew he needed this shot—it wasn’t like he had a choice—but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.

“Gary wouldn’t poison me,” Ash muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself. “He’s my best friend. He’s been my best friend forever.”

The door creaked open, and in came Gary, his smirk noticeably softer than usual. He was holding a small tray, and Ash’s heart sank when he spotted the glint of the syringe.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Ash mumbled, shaking his head rapidly.

Gary rolled his eyes, setting the tray down on a nearby counter. “Calm down, Ashy-boy. It’s just one little shot. You’ll survive. You’ve survived worse—remember when you got zapped by Pikachu?”

“That was different,” Ash countered, his voice rising slightly. “That wasn’t… controlled!”

Gary laughed softly. “Controlled, huh? That’s what you’re worried about?” He glanced at Ash’s fidgeting hands and sighed. “Look, it’s not that bad, okay? I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt much.”

Ash didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the syringe like it was a Beedrill about to attack.

Gary walked over and knelt in front of Ash, looking up at him with a rare hint of sincerity in his eyes. “Hey, Ash. I know this stuff freaks you out, but I promise, I’ll be careful. I won’t make it worse than it has to be.”

Ash’s shoulders relaxed a little, but his hands remained clenched on the table.

Gary’s eyes flicked to Ash’s hands, and a memory hit him. Ash always seemed to complain about how his hands hurt for days after a shot. He’d never thought much about it before, but now…

“Wait a second,” Gary said, grabbing one of Ash’s hands gently. Ash tensed, but Gary didn’t let go. “This… is why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

“What?” Ash blinked, confused.

“You’re clenching your hands the whole time,” Gary explained. “That’s why it hurts so bad afterward. You’re making your muscles all stiff.”

Ash stared at him, then down at his hand. “...I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

Gary chuckled softly, standing up and ruffling Ash’s hair. “Of course, you didn’t. You’re Ash Ketchum. You don’t realize half the stuff you do.”

“Hey!”

“But,” Gary continued, ignoring Ash’s protest, “I’ve got an idea. This time, instead of clenching, you’re going to focus on something else.” He held out a Poké Ball from his pocket. “Here. Hold this. Pretend you’re thinking of a strategy to catch a new Pokémon.”

Ash hesitated but eventually took the Poké Ball, his fingers wrapping around it tightly—but not as tightly as they had been gripping the table.

Gary smiled. “Good. Now, let’s get this over with, okay?”

Ash nodded, his grip loosening slightly as Gary prepared the shot.

True to his word, Gary applied the numbing cream first, giving Ash a moment to breathe. “Okay, Ash, you ready? Remember, focus on the Poké Ball.”

Ash bit his lip, nodding again. He stared hard at the Poké Ball, imagining himself throwing it at a wild Charizard. He barely felt the needle go in.

“There,” Gary said, pulling the syringe away and pressing a small bandage over the spot. “All done.”

“That’s it?” Ash blinked, looking at his arm in surprise. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Told you,” Gary said, crossing his arms smugly. “I know you better than you think, Ashy-boy.”

Ash rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Gary.”

“Anytime,” Gary replied. He gave Ash a playful shove. “But next time, don’t freak out so much, okay? You’re making me look bad.”

Ash laughed, the tension finally leaving his body. “Yeah, yeah. Next time, maybe don’t bring the needle tray into the room so dramatically.”

Gary smirked. “Deal.”