Ash’s stomach churned as he waited in the room, his foot tapping against the metal frame of the examination table. The familiar sterile smell of the doctor's office didn’t help his nerves. He glanced at the various instruments on the counter—needles, alcohol swabs, and small vials—and winced.

“Why did it have to be Gary?” Ash muttered to himself. Sure, they were best friends, but that didn’t make the idea of getting a shot any easier.

The door creaked open, and Gary strolled in, carrying a small tray with the dreaded needle on it. Ash tensed immediately.

Gary noticed Ash’s reaction and sighed. “Relax, Ashy-boy. It’s just a little prick. You’ll barely feel it.”

“Yeah, right,” Ash mumbled under his breath. He crossed his arms and frowned. “You always say that, but it always hurts.”

Gary raised an eyebrow, setting the tray down on the counter. “Oh, come on. You’ve faced legendary Pokémon without batting an eye, and you’re scared of a tiny needle?”

“It’s not the needle,” Ash retorted, fidgeting with his hat. “It’s... it’s what happens after. My arm hurts, and my hand always feels weird for days. It’s like—” He stopped himself, realizing he was rambling.

Gary blinked, tilting his head as he watched Ash fiddle with his hat. Then his eyes dropped to Ash’s hands. The way he was clenching them, the slight twitch in his fingers... it clicked.

“Wait,” Gary said, his tone softer now. “Ash, do you always keep your hand tense when you get a shot?”

Ash looked up, surprised by the sudden change in Gary’s voice. “Uh... yeah? Doesn’t everyone?”

Gary slapped his forehead. “No, you dummy! That’s why it hurts so much. You’re supposed to relax your arm and hand, not clench them like you’re in a Pokémon battle.”

Ash blinked. “Oh.”

Gary smirked, shaking his head. “Man, for a guy who’s supposed to be a Pokémon Master, you’re really clueless sometimes.”

“Hey!” Ash protested, but the nervous edge in his voice betrayed him.

Gary grabbed the numbing cream from the tray and walked over. “Alright, listen. I’ll put this on first, so it’ll sting less. But you have to promise me one thing.”

Ash eyed him warily. “What?”

“Relax your hand this time. No clenching, no fists of fury, got it?”

Ash hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But if it still hurts, I’m blaming you.”

Gary rolled his eyes. “Fair enough. Now, hold still.” He dabbed the cream onto Ash’s arm, his movements surprisingly gentle.

Ash flinched slightly at the cool sensation, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re being... nice,” he muttered.

Gary snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”

After a few minutes, Gary picked up the needle and held it up. “Alright, big guy. Ready?”

Ash swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the syringe. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay, remember what I said. Relax your hand,” Gary reminded him.

Ash took a deep breath and forced his hand to go limp. He braced himself as Gary positioned the needle.

“This’ll be over in three... two... one,” Gary said, his voice unusually calm.

Ash winced as he felt the tiny prick, but it wasn’t as bad as he expected. Before he knew it, Gary had pulled the needle out and pressed a cotton ball against his arm.

“Done,” Gary announced, securing a small bandage over the spot.

Ash blinked. “That’s it?”

Gary smirked. “Told you it’d be quick. And look, your hand’s not hurting, right?”

Ash flexed his fingers experimentally. “Huh. You’re right.”

Gary crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. “Guess I’m not just a rival. I’m also a genius.”

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

Gary shrugged, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “What are best friends for?”