Pokemon: The Spy and the Idol

Ichigo maneuvered his car onto the gravel shoulder and killed the engine. Weeds brushed the doors as he and Miyako stepped out. The late afternoon light cast long shadows over the Hoshino residence's front yard, turning the overgrowth into a tangle of silhouettes. An old wooden gate, paint peeling and hinges rusted, loomed before them. Miyako pressed a hand against it and pushed. The gate yielded with a drawn-out creeaaak, loud enough to startle a napping Pidgeon if any were hiding in the thicket.

The wooden gate let out a long, agonized creak as Ichigo nudged it open with his shoulder. Miyako winced slightly, chuckling as she adjusted her silk scarf against the chill breeze that ruffled their hair. "I swear, that sound gets louder every time. You think Ai ever considered just...fixing it?" Her voice was playful, but something careful flickered in her eyes, like she understood exactly why Ai hadn't.

Ichigo let out a dry laugh, stepping cautiously over a tangle of roots and ivy that had long reclaimed the front path. "That gate's the first line of defense. Paparazzi might be fearless, but not even they want burglary charges just to get a photo. Or a nasty case of poison ivy, for that matter."

Miyako's lips twitched upward, eyes crinkling softly. "You're cute when you try logic, Ichigo. But you and I both know Ai just can't bring herself to change what those two left behind." Her voice dropped slightly, gentle with understanding. "It's not security, it's memory."

They stepped through and were greeted by an eerie quiet. The front yard was a small jungle: knee-high grass, wild vines clinging to a leaning trellis, and a camellia bush gone feral by the fence. A paper lantern from some past festival hung askew on the porch, swaying in the breeze. The house beyond stood two stories tall with wood siding faded to a patchy gray. It might have looked abandoned if not for the faint laughter drifting from somewhere inside. 

Ichigo glanced sideways, his expression unreadable as they stepped carefully through the garden jungle that masqueraded as the front yard. "Yeah, maybe," he conceded quietly, a tenderness breaking through his gruff demeanor. "It is Ai, after all. Sentimental is her default setting."

As they walked, the air changed. The smell of damp weeds gave way to something sweeter. The last slanting rays of sun slipped past the eaves and illuminated a hidden oasis unfolding behind the house. Miyako's breath caught.

Tucked behind the dilapidated exterior was a vibrant berry garden. Neat rows of planters and raised beds overflowed with foliage. Plump Oran and Sitrus berries dangled from carefully pruned bushes, their skins catching the golden light. A trellis supported climbing vines speckled with bright Nanab berries. In one corner stood two young apricorn trees, their trunks slender but sturdy, bearing a handful of hard, gourd-like green and yellow apricorns amid dark leaves. The grass here was trimmed and soft underfoot, and a low wooden bench sat facing a tiny koi pond at the garden's center. It was as if they'd stepped into another world—warm, orderly, and secret.

Miyako's breath caught audibly. "Every single time I see these berry bushes…" she murmured in genuine awe, letting her fingertips lightly graze the glossy leaves of an Oran berry plant, vibrant fruit nestled securely beneath. "Hard to believe these magical, bio-engineered berries thrive right here, Ichigo."

He raised an eyebrow, inspecting a ripe Pecha berry glowing gently in the afternoon sun. "Miyako, you've said that exact sentence for the past seven years. You ever get tired of marveling at them?" His voice had a gentle humor.

Miyako's smile turned playful as she shot him a side-eye. "And yet, every year you sound just as surprised when you complain about it."

"Fair," Ichigo admitted with a grudging smile, plucking a small twig from a nearby branch and rolling it thoughtfully between his fingers. "Still, you have to admit—it's wild. These apricorn trees alone…" He gestured toward two slender trees standing near the back fence, their branches heavy with the small, hard green apricorns prized in secretive labs and among the elite. "Who even knows how Ai got them to flourish back here?"

Leaving the garden, Ichigo and Miyako approached the back porch. The sliding glass door was partly open, a sheer curtain fluttering with the evening breeze. Ruby and Aqua's laughter was clearer now, punctuated by Ai's warm, playful voice. Rather than circle back to the front, Ichigo carefully stepped inside through the back. Miyako followed, both of them instinctively quieting their footsteps so as not to break the spell of the moment.

The interior of the house was a world apart from its exterior. Sunlight spilled through large windows, illuminating an open-plan living area with polished hardwood floors and walls painted a gentle cream. The furnishings were modern and minimalistic, as if lifted from an IKEA catalog but given life through personal touches. A low gray sectional couch hugged one corner beneath a trio of framed childlike finger paintings—proud splashes of color clearly made by little hands. Across from the couch, open modular shelves held an array of picture books, a few action figures, and neatly arranged potted plants. A spiral staircase of light ash wood sprang upward near the far wall, its design sleek and space-saving, leading to the second floor bedrooms. Just beyond the living area lay the kitchen and dining space. The cozy kitchen was delineated by a black granite-topped island and natural wood cabinetry. Copper pots and pans hung from a wrought iron rack above the island, catching the light with a muted glow. A long farmhouse-style dining table, scarred with a few crayon marks here and there, anchored the dining area beside a bay window that overlooked the berry garden. The scent of home—faint vanilla and something savory—lingered in the air. It was warm, lived-in, and welcoming.

The small grocery bag rustled quietly as Miyako placed it down on the side table by the door. Her eyes fell on the tiny pair of sneakers, hastily discarded at odd angles. She nudged them neatly with the side of her foot, her gaze softening slightly. "You'd think we're running a daycare here," she murmured, tone dry and amused.

Ichigo snorted quietly, pulling his jacket off in one smooth movement. Folding it carefully over his arm, he took care not to trip on the bright red building block—innocuous yet potentially hazardous—that lay in wait by the entryway rug. Ichigo regarded it skeptically, then shot Miyako a sideways look, eyebrow raised. "Better watch your step," he advised dryly. "Seems the builders left some traps."

Miyako suppressed a laugh behind her hand, eyes scanning for signs of the little culprits. "Oh, I'm fully prepared for an ambush," she replied softly, stepping around another block, the faint clinking of Lego pieces audible underfoot. "What kind of fortress do you think we'll find today?"

They moved quietly toward the living room, following the trail of scattered toys and the muffled giggles drifting into the hallway. As the space opened up before them, Ichigo paused, quietly taking in the sight.