Grey, smoldering puffs of smoke rolled through the battlefield calmly, fumes of poison drifting into mouth and eyes, a patient ninja in the air. The smoke, taking time, pulled out and away from the dusty battlefield slowly, blue specks peaking through the black flush in the sunlight before them, waiting, suspending. The battle was over, but one remained, and that truth was yet to be discovered as two young children awaited, staring into the twister of darkness, rarely blinking the sting of the air away. They breathed in time-hoping, praying, believing. Who remained in this unfair turn of events, the clouds blocking eyesight from every angle? Which trainer knew more, which trainer trained harder?
Isn't it obvious, that the one with the determined look, would be much more accompanied by the act of winning? And the other, face grave with deep worry, would lose every winning so far, every ounce of luck? Of course it was obvious, and of course it was blatant.
When the smoke finally cleared, only one remained, the battlefield scarce of the quick blue flash that would throw watery shirukens across at its every challenger. No longer able to tend to its trainer's beck and calls, it lied across the dirt battlefield, heaving slowly in defeat. The Pokemon's trainer darkened, face becoming grey with worry. On the other end, a trainer with curled brown pigtail's jumped in jubilance, and her pale violet dragon rejoiced so.
It was depressing, really. The boy-the losing trainer-, was not known for winning anyway. The raven wouldn't anytime soon, either.
He called the Pokemon back, "Greninja, return..." His voice croaked, a pokeball in his hands flashed with red light. The trainer wore a long face.
And the group of friends, almost family, in the stands frowned as well. Their hope lost, love looked down upon. What kind of belief did they wear in the first place?
... This boy, the boy who lost, sympathy in his eyes, hair and hat over his face to shield the obvious, would be going home now. Again, home. Home is where the heart is, they say. (But isn't it so, home was never the same place for him?)
The trainer on the other side of the battlefield about to be rewarded, the boy wanted to escape as fast as he could before his burdens, and the media, caught up with him.
Though as always, he was too late. A hitch caught in his throat when urged by a pink-haired nurse to get into the locker rooms. Thank no one for his bad luck-all of his pride was gone.
The boy, the lonely boy, the failure, the disappointment in his mother's eyes- yes, he would go home and face his fears, yet he didn't know what his fears were; the crippling disappointment weighed him down far too much for him to figure even the simplest of questions out. But all was gone to the boy, and he was left with nothing but an emotionless look and torn apart friends. If only he could've had it another way, he thought. If only he could start again.
There were many different places in the world and it wasn't a crazy thought, and when he looked up to the sky that evening, sun shining brightly over the battlefield in glee, he realized that once again, he would be traveling. Sometime, he would be going to a new place. Far far away from home this time. He wanted it that way- away from everyone else, away from all the eyes.
Of course he always wanted it that way. Was there really anywhere left to turn but home..?
Well, he had to go home... though, his mother wouldn't tell him she was proud anymore, he knew it had been too many failures to dismiss. The professor would still require him to complete the pokedex, even if he wasn't as good at it.
Ash Ketchum(the boy; arrogant) thought about all of those things. He was lost in his own daydream across the fields of the empty space around the stadium.
"Oh, Ash!"
Clemont(the mechanic; incomplete) plopped down beside the raven in the damp grass, his sister and Serena nowhere to be seen among the crowds of young and old celebrating the victories. Ash sat with Pikachu in his lap, a bored look plastered on his usually-jubilant face. He didn't answer Clemont's friendly prodding, only nodded.
And Clemont wasn't taken aback. He was far from being taken aback, "Here you are... I'm sorry, it takes time, r..." He trailed off when his thoughts twisted.
Ash sat silent.
"..." Clemont glanced over at his friend. Maybe he wasn't listening. That's alright, no one really listened anyway.
It was silent, the back of the stadium echoing in cheer. The finals, Ash lost.
The final round.
Ash stuffed his face in his hands and sighed. "Okay," he inhaled, "okay, sure." His hands traveled into his hair and under his hat, that fell off briskly onto the ground. Pikachu glanced up cautiously at its partner.
His eyes were tired, he looked worn. But it was just a battle, just another loss(failure). Why was Ash so anti-social all of the sudden? Why were his eyes low and his face grey? Why was he slouching? Why did his voice sound more like a grown man's than his own?
Nothing should be wrong. The sky was bright, ice cream was being distributed for free! And Ash wasn't doing anything- Ash was alone.
...And Ash wanted home already. He pulled a piece of grass out from the ground and ripped it in half. So easily did it tear. He wanted home, oh, how he wanted home, and mother, and the professor, and Mr. Mime, and Tracey, and Gary, and Misty, and Brock... He wanted home, alone, with old friends and new reunions. And special comfort and big dinners. He'd love to be happy there, happy home. And yet he was stuck, he was being pulled back into the stadium, his lips pursed and his eyelids closed.
Maybe Clemont was taking him home? This illusion was giving him a migraine... and since when did he know what a migraine felt like?
His head was spinning, all he saw were lights. People yelling. He wanted home. His lip was bleeding from his own teeth, his fingers crossed, his eyes still sewn shut. Light hit him. He opened his eyes again and saw the crowd from before as he sat steadily in the grass.
And that was it, he thought. All it took for the young boy to figure out his new occupation, his new journey. This loss, this failure, it was all he needed to realize what he needed to. The sun shone, his eyes burned, the heat raked him. It was a loss that reminded him of what he missed(everything), and what he may not miss in the future.
Ash Ketchum was disgusted with himself. He slouched back down into the grass and wept in front of his friend.