Ash swung his legs nervously as he sat on the examination table, the crinkling of the paper beneath him amplifying his anxiety. He stared at the door, willing Gary to return without the dreaded tray of needles. Maybe Gary would change his mind. Maybe he’d forget. Maybe he’d decide Ash didn’t actually need the shot.

The door creaked open, and Ash’s heart sank as Gary entered, holding a silver tray with the unmistakable glint of a syringe.

“Alright, Ashy-boy,” Gary said, his tone teasing but softer than usual. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ash swallowed hard, his hands instinctively gripping the edge of the table. “D-Do we really have to?” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Gary set the tray down on a nearby counter and turned to face Ash. “Yeah, we do. It’s just one shot, Ash. You’ve faced wild Charizards and Team Rocket. You’re telling me you can’t handle a little needle?”

Ash gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s not the same, Gary. Wild Pokémon don’t sting like this!”

Gary sighed and grabbed a pair of gloves, snapping them on with practiced ease. “It’ll be over in a second. Just... try to relax, alright?”

Ash nodded but couldn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip on the table. Gary noticed the movement, his sharp eyes catching the tension in Ash’s hands.

“Hey,” Gary said, his voice losing its teasing edge. He stepped closer and gently nudged Ash’s shoulder. “Why are you holding the table like that? You look like you’re about to break it.”

Ash blinked, then glanced at his hands. “Uh, it helps... I guess. I dunno.”

Gary frowned, crouching slightly to get a better look at Ash’s hands. “Does it hurt after the shot? Like, your arm or something?”

Ash hesitated, his face turning slightly red. “It’s not just my arm... My hands hurt too. Like, for days.”

Gary’s eyebrows shot up. “Your hands?” He straightened, crossing his arms. “Ash, does that happen every time?”

Ash nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. I guess I squeeze too hard or something. It’s not a big deal.”

Gary stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Ash, that’s not normal. No wonder it always hurts—you’re making it worse by tensing up so much.”

Ash looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t think it mattered...”

Gary sighed again but this time more out of understanding than frustration. He grabbed a small stress ball from the counter and handed it to Ash. “Here. Squeeze this instead of the table. It’ll help with the pain.”

Ash took the ball, staring at it like it was some kind of magical artifact. “You really think it’ll help?”

Gary smirked. “I know it will. Trust me, Ashy-boy. Now, let’s get this done before you faint or something.”

Ash gave a nervous laugh and held the ball tightly. “Okay... But can you, uh, go easy?”

Gary rolled his eyes but smiled. “I’ve got you, Ash. I’ll be as gentle as a Jigglypuff.”

As Gary prepped the syringe, Ash focused on the stress ball, squeezing it rhythmically. When Gary finally approached with the needle, Ash clenched his jaw but kept his grip on the ball steady.

“Alright,” Gary said, his tone calm. “Deep breath in... and out.”

Ash obeyed, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt the pinch. True to Gary’s word, it was over in seconds.

“All done,” Gary said, capping the syringe and giving Ash a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “See? Not so bad.”

Ash opened one eye, then the other. “That’s it?”

Gary grinned. “Told you I’d go easy.”

Ash looked at the stress ball in his hand and flexed his fingers. “Huh. My hands don’t hurt this time.”

“See? I know what I’m doing,” Gary said with a smirk.

Ash gave him a genuine smile, his nerves finally settling. “Thanks, Gary. You’re not so bad for a rival.”

Gary chuckled, grabbing a bandage and gently placing it on Ash’s arm. “And you’re not so bad for a scaredy-cat.”

As they left the room, Ash felt lighter, even if he’d never admit it to Gary. Some rivalries ran deep, but their friendship ran even deeper.