The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.
The Sailor Moon franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.
The Dragonball franchise is owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama.
The Pokémon franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.
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"Goku… Goku…"
Far off in a part of space untouched by humankind was a planet—well, not just a planet; humanity had a long way to go before it had the technological and psychological capacities to travel through deep space, and a myriad of civilizations would not know of the planet Earth or its people—was a technologically advance species known as the Yardat, who occupied a planet of the same name. Their technological and spiritual might were incredible, strong enough to resist falling under the thumb of the ruthless planet trade conglomeration run by a family of "frost demons" to use the colloquial term, the chief of which being a tyrant by the name of Freeza.
Not that they would have to worry about them anymore, anyhow. Freeza was dead. And the cause of his death was currently stranded on their planet, training in martial arts by day and convalescing by night.
A Saiyan warrior who called the remote, underdeveloped, backwater planet Earth home. The Super Saiyan of Legend.
"Son Goku… can you hear me?"
The Saiyan warrior's recuperation was hampered by his insistence on training throughout the days, despite the strain it put on his body. Along with his martial arts training, the Yardat people had chosen to teach them their secret, hidden technique. They called it Instant Transmission; the layman observing it would just call it teleporting. But the process was physically and mentally taxing. Goku found himself falling to sleep faster, sleeping deeper, and taking more effort to wake up in the mornings.
"You must listen to me, Son Goku…"
Which was a boon to the one trying to contact him, since in order to manifest before a "mundane" person—read: not a magic user—required them to be in either a state of deep meditation or deep sleep; the deeper, the better. Of course, she wouldn't tell him that the Yardats in charge of training him in Instant Transmission were "persuaded" to push Goku to his limits, deliberately exhausting him.
It took several tries, but the Saiyan warrior finally heard the confident, refined, distinctively feminine voice calling out to him in his dreams. He snapped upright in his bed… or what he thought was his bed, anyhow. "Y-yeah?" he called out, not sure what to say or who to say it to. He was floating around what looked like a deep purple void, with no visible end in sight. Not that he could move, anyhow. He could still look around, but his sphere of movement was very limited. "Did someone call me?"
"Yes, Son Goku. I have."
Goku turned to where he heard the voice coming from, and paused. Standing several yards in front of him was a beautiful woman, about as tall as he was, with piercing purple eyes. She had an olive complexion to her, possibly of Mediterranean descent, and she had black hair with a green tint that went almost down to her knees. She was wearing what Goku recognized as a "sailor fuku" outfit, her skirt, sailor scarf, knee-high boots, and cuffs of her arm-length gloves were black, the bow on her chest being a dark purple, and the main body and gloves pure white. In her hand she held a long, thin, silver shaft, which looked like a giant key, the top of it crowned with a round garnet, the shaft parting around and surrounding the garnet in the shape of a heart.
Goku just kind of looked at her. "Um…" he started. "Well, here I am…" He rubbed the back of his head, confused. "What exactly did you want with me?"
"I have tried to contact you over the last several days, Goku," the woman explained. "I cannot go forth with any pleasantries. Something has happened to bring our universes together in ways they were never meant to intertwine."
"Wait…" he started. "So you come from another world?" He couldn't help but smile. "I'll bet you're a powerful fighter were you're from. You sure come off like one, in that regard, then…"
"I am. But that is not the point," she retorted. "While you have been away from your home, strange phenomena have been happening both in your world, my world…" She looked away for a moment. "…and a third." She met Goku's eyes again. "This intermingling of worlds has been benign so far, but understand that the consequences could be far further reaching than either one of us could imagine. I personally have only begun to investigate, so I cannot say what will happen in the long run."
"So where do I come in in all this?"
"I first learned of you during your battle on the planet Namek," she explained. "I felt a tremendous output of energy, and got my first glimpse into your reality."
"Tremendous output…" He blinked, and suddenly grinned wide. "Oh! Hey! You mean when I first went Super Saiyan!"
"Specifically that moment? No. Before that was when the first cracks started to form." Her eyes closed. "Hatred immeasurable pushed out in all directions, straining the walls of reality itself…"
Goku nodded. "I know when you're talking about now," he said solemnly. "When Freeza achieved his final form." He looked away for a moment, not too thrilled on recalling that battle. How he killed an openly weeping Vegeta. How Piccolo was grievously wounded. How Krillin was blown up right in front of him. And when he was balancing on the razor's edge, coming dangerously close to a complete psychotic breakdown, Freeza uttered six words that launched Goku over the edge… I think the brat should go next! "You haven't answered me; what does all of this have to do with me?"
"You, Son Goku, are without a doubt, the strongest warrior in this universe… for the time being," she said. "Not just for your physical strength, but because of the hope you exude. Because of the salvation the weak and oppressed feel when in your presence. I could think of no one better suited to help guide this universe away from the brink of oblivion."
Goku let out a low hum of acknowledgment. "Yes… I've been coming to terms with that myself, these past few weeks," he said. "Heh… and here I was just trying to intimidate Freeza by calling myself the hope of the universe."
"Before utterly humiliating him."
"Before utterly humiliating him, yeah," Goku added, chuckling nervously. "Guess you saw that, too, huh?"
The woman nodded. She waved her free hand in a semicircle, and a circular viewing field appeared in between them, about chest height. She gestured for Goku to look at it. "Listen to me, Goku. Your friends and family, and the people of Namek that you helped saved, they have the means to resurrect your fallen friends." A blue-haired woman in a yellow flight suit was talking to an elderly looking green man—a Namekian, to be precise.
"Right! The Dragonballs!" he said, snapping his fingers. "That's why we went to Namek in the first place! Because Piccolo died, and Kami died along with him…"
"…rendering Earth's Dragonballs inert, yes. I have looked into your history when I had the chance to observe your universe. This is key. Soon they will get to use them again, and with their last wish, they will wish for you to return to Earth." She looked sternly at Goku. "No matter what happens, you must allow yourself to return to Earth."
"What? But what if I don't finish learning the Instant Transmission?" he asked. "And my other training here?"
"At your rate of progress, you will indeed master Instant Transmission," she assured him. "But more to the point: your Earth and mine, as well as the third Earth I alluded to, will come into great peril in the future. When you get home, keep an eye out on the news programs in your area. The first report you see of this woman…" The scene changed again, showing off a girl with long blonde pigtails in a similar outfit to the woman before him, only her colors were blue, white, and red. "…seek her out. She will be one of your key allies in the times to come."
Goku's gaze switched from the girl to the woman before him several times. "Your outfits are kind of the same. Is she one of your kind, too?"
"Yes. She is called Sailor Moon. She and her friends are collectively known as the Sailor Senshi, each representing a different planet, and with mastery over a different element or power." She gestured to herself with her free hand. "I am known as Sailor Pluto, and I have control over time—not just stopping, or slowing, or traveling through it, but observing events of the past and present to help ensure a better future."
"So there's one for every planet, I'm guessing?"
"Except Earth. But that's a special exception." The scene in the viewing field changed again, with Sailor Moon fighting alongside a man in a formal white tie and tails ensemble, accented with a top hat, cane, red lined cape, and a mask. "That is Tuxedo Mask, another ally of theirs. Their relationship is… complicated. You will have to learn more about them at another time."
Goku nodded. "Wait, what about this third Earth? What's gonna happen to that?"
Sailor Pluto sighed. "Unfortunately, the gears of tragedy are already turning…" She waved her hand and the scene on the viewing field changed again. This time, Goku was treated to the image of a boy running around the wilderness, about his own son's age. His hair was black, but mostly covered by a red and white cap with a strange symbol on the front he didn't recognize. The rest of his clothing was ordinary, as well—jeans, black shirt, blue short-sleeved jacket with white sleeves. What was peculiar was a yellow creature hanging on his shoulder like a parrot, with a jagged tail and little red circular cheeks. Running alongside him was a girl about his age with red hair, denim shorts, a yellow top, and red suspenders, clutching what looked like a massive white egg, covered in red and blue hollow triangles, in her arms. Also with him was a taller boy, in a green vest, orange shirt, dark khakis, with a darker complexion and spiky brown hair.
Goku didn't know what to think just by looking at him. "I don't know what you're trying to say, showing me this," he said tentatively. "I mean…" He looked at Sailor Pluto again. "Is something bad going to happen to him?"
"Indeed," Pluto said, nodding sadly. "He is a tamer of the beasts of the fields and birds of the air in his homeland. But he is still human. And soon he will be beset by an unspeakable tragedy. He will be as a ship adrift upon the sea with no one to guide him."
Goku frowned, his eyebrows creasing into a saddened expression. "And you can't stop it?"
She shook her head. "I cannot. I have only been able to peer into his world for moments at a time. And what I saw in his future is grim, indeed. He will have, to put it plainly, nothing." Pluto saw Goku's worried look, and continued. "But know that he has great potential within him. I have seen, albeit briefly, how he has helped save his world on several occasions. He is capable of great things, Goku. But he cannot achieve them alone. He will need your guidance. And your love." A small smile formed on Sailor Pluto's lips. "And he will benefit from them greatly."
Her words gave Goku pause. "Wait… what do you mean by that?" he asked. "Why are you bringing up love? And… what does that have to do with him? Us, I guess, would be better?" He shrugged. "What does that have to do with us?"
What you can provide him is the love of a father for his children. It is a love he has never known…
Deep in the Johto region, a young trainer from Pallet Town in Kanto traveled throughout the land, searching far and wide. Like many children his age, once he turned ten years old—May 22nd, for him—he became eligible to set out on a Pokémon Journey, starting on the April 1st following said tenth birthday. And his journey, starting out, was a comedy of errors. There's no polite way to put it. He had no idea what he was doing.
But let the record show that Ash Ketchum was indeed a fast learner.
It was very rough starting out, and many observers would gladly tell you that he got his first badges by happenstance. Or just through sheer, dumb luck. Even the rare occasion when he won through his opponent's Pokémon being sabotaged or otherwise hampered, he would insist on starting over and doing it cleanly. Not that it mattered, especially if he won anyway. The Indigo Conference was his first major test; his stage fright was so highly uncommon for him, but he managed to persevere through the trials set before him. He might have actually gone further than he did—even won, as some sources speculate—had it not been for an ornery Charizard who laid down and took a nap instead of fighting an opponent he saw as not worth his time. He was upset, but not completely broken. The promise of new leagues and new journeys awaited him, and he longed to take advantage of them.
His next journey through the Orange Archipelago saw him exploring a tropical paradise where people and Pokémon lived more closely with each other, and with nature. And after helping to avert a major catastrophe involving no less than three legendary Pokémon—the fourth of which he got to ride through the air like something out of a fantasy—he took on the Orange Crew and eventually defeated their champion, a man by the name of Drake, who did not know defeat until meeting the kid from Pallet Town with the Pikachu on his shoulder. He brought his newfound championship back home to Pallet Town with him, as well as a local artist by the name of Tracey, who fell in with his mentor, Professor Samuel Oak, as his new lab aide. It wasn't long before Ash left home again, saying goodbye to his mother, and setting off for the neighboring Johto region.
Along the way, accompanying him were two of the best friends he had in the world. Both of them were gym leaders, the first of which he met on the first day of his journey, without even knowing of her identity. And after trashing her bike. With her bright red hair and fiery attitude to match, Misty traveled with Ash after fishing him out of a river—and then slapping the taste out of his mouth—under the pretense that he owed her a bike. She wasn't wrong; it got trashed when Pikachu electrocuted an entire flock of Spearow and their Fearow gang leader. But it was either that or they get seriously wounded—or worse—on Ash's first day of his journey. Of course, the issue about the bike was fading fast. Misty saw the way Ash stole looks at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, wearing those short denim shorts and tight little yellow top, "held up" with red suspenders. She might have thrashed him for it at the start. But soon she found it…flattering. She had believed Ash was incredibly dense and cared about nothing other than his next Pokémon battle, what Pokémon he was going to catch next, or where his next Badge would come from. But that wasn't the case. Whatever Ash was passionate about got his almost undivided attention. Other things piqued his interest, obviously. But trying to match the enthusiasm Ash Ketchum has for Pokémon is something beyond the abilities of mortal men and women.
Perhaps, someday, he'd show that outward enthusiasm for her, as well. It wouldn't be a matter of if…but when.
Of course, passion for the opposite sex was completely monopolized by Ash's other traveling companion. Another Gym Leader, the first one Ash faced, with his dark skin, earth tone clothes, and narrow, almost permanently squinting eyes, Brock of Pewter City was an intimidating figure at first. Ash had to battle him twice; he was going to let it go to a third fight after the Gym's sprinkler system went off and soaked his poor Onix, the quad damage it suffered from something so trivial nearly undermining Ash's attempt to win fairly... even if it meant his Pikachu couldn't damage either of his part-Ground-type Pokémon with its electric attacks. On that day, Brock left the gym, letting his estranged father take over it and his household, having looked after his ten younger siblings. Ironically, as they traveled together, Brock found a brotherly bond with Ash… almost as strong as with his own siblings, if not stronger. That didn't stop Brock from being a nearly mad womanizer, gawking over just about every female he came across, and having to get pulled away by Misty every time. His advances were supposed to be romantic, might have been construed as offensive, but ultimately harmless.
"Finally, we made it," Ash said as he stepped through the automatic doors of the Pokémon Center, letting out a deep groan as he finally felt he could relax. They had been out in the wild for some time now, and now that the found "civilization" (read: a town with a Pokémon Center in it), they could rest their weary bodies for a while, as well as stock up on food and other supplies.
"Yeah, good timing, too," Brock added. "Weather looks like it's about to get rough out there…" Indeed, the wind had been picking up as they saw the town in the distance, and the skies were darkening with clouds as well. The three picked up their pace, making it to the Pokémon Center tired, but ultimately in one piece, before any inclement weather happened upon them.
"We should probably look into seeing if there are any rooms available," Misty said as the three approached the counter, where a Nurse Joy was standing behind it, a Chansey next to her, ready to assist with anything. "I mean, there's not a whole lot of people around, but you never know."
"You're right," Ash said as the three of them handed over their Pokémon to be rested, Pikachu electing to stay on Ash's shoulder, while Misty didn't let her infantile Togepi out of her sight. "Besides, I think we earned some rest after that last Gym battle…"
"No argument there," Brock added. "Jasmine was tough, really tough. But you pushed through, man."
"Yeah, and you've got just two badges left before you qualify for the Silver Conference," Misty added with a warm smile.
Pikachu matched Ash's confident smile. "Yeah, and it won't be long now before—huh?"
Before Ash could go any further, he saw a woman in a blue police uniform and turquoise hair walk over to them. She had a solemn expression on her face, the likes of which immediately stopped Brock's flirtatious advances before they even started. She didn't want to look Ash in the eye right away, but she had to. She had a job to do. "Excuse me, are you Ash Ketchum?" she asked in a somber tone.
Ash paused, looking at her confused. "Yeah?" he responded. "That's me… what's wrong?"
Officer Jenny sighed. "Ash… I have some troubling news to relay to you. It's…" She saw the looks the three were giving her, and closed her eyes. "It's about your home."
Ash really didn't like where this was going. "Wh-what's wrong? Did something happen?"
Jenny was already walking away. "Come with me, please…?" she said, ushering Ash over to a quiet corner of the Pokémon center.
Ash shot a worried look at his friends, who stayed put while he walked over with Officer Jenny. They hadn't been called over, so they stayed behind, unsure of what to do. They lingered at the counter in a bit of a daze, watching as Jenny led him out of earshot. But they could sense Ash's and Pikachu's reactions from their body language. One after another, Brock's and Misty's hearts dropped into their stomachs, as when Ash turned to face Jenny, she had already taken off her cap…
Pallet Town was a quaint, little town on the edge of the Kanto region. But despite it being among the smallest towns in the region, it was vast and colorful, the handful of homes and other building doing little to detract from its rolling green hills and wide fields. Chief among the attractions to the town was Oak Laboratories, home of Professor Oak, one of the foremost authorities on Pokémon in the entire world, whose main area of study was human/Pokémon relationships and interactions. His lab, and the ranch it rested on, took up a huge expanse of land—a requirement, of sorts, for all the Pokémon that get caught and stored at his lab—sitting almost right in the center of town. The windmill up on the tallest hill in the town provided power for the lab, allowing it to function mostly off the grid. It also offered a view of the entire town from the observation deck on the top floor.
And right now, a keen eye would see an Officer Jenny pulling up on a motorcycle just a little into town, a speedster in a rather worn looking faded blue car begrudgingly having pulled over.
Stepping off her motorcycle, Jenny let out a disgusted sigh as she walked up to the driver's side of the vehicle. The windows were down—part of her presumed they were stuck; it wasn't full-on "beater", but it was pretty bad—so there was nothing obscuring her from the driver's vision. "Greetings," she said flatly, trying to main a professional demeanor despite having to put up with a guy who looked like he was going to bolt at any second. "You were sure going awfully fast, weren't you?"
The speedster looked at Jenny with a nervous smile, his brown eyes darting back and forth. "Uh heh heh…" he started, feeling really on edge being in this cop's presence. "No harm done, right?"
"Are you kidding? As fast as you were going?" She scoffed. "You didn't see any of the speed limit signs anywhere?" She shook her head, not caring about his answer. "License, registration, and proof of insurance, please…"
Now the guy behind the wheel was freaking out. What Jenny didn't know is that the guy before her didn't actually own the car. He had stolen it a short time ago. Its original owner failed to lock the door, and he hopped right in and hotwired it so that it would start up, and just took off. He didn't know if any police report had been filed yet; there weren't many cops where he was when he stole it, but he believed that a "backwater" town like this wouldn't be well informed on such matters. Not having the proper documentation was the least of his concern.
"R-right, uh…" he stammered. "J-just give me a second here…" He nervously stuck his hand out, hovering over the cup holders in the center, where he had a cup of hot coffee stashed. "I think it's right…" And he grabbed the coffee cup. "HERE!" And his arm snapped towards the open window, the lid flying off and splashing the hot beverage all over Jenny's face and chest.
Jenny screamed in surprise and anger as she was splashed, managing to block a little bit of the splash with her hand, but a good bit of it still got on her face. She staggered back, groaning in pain, wiping the hot substance out of her eyes and off her face, not at the moment caring that it was staining her gloves. What was most important was bringing this clown to justice. Especially since her ears were assaulted by the sound of tires peeling out and speeding away. She coughed as the dust blew over her, waving it off the best she could. She was already running back to her motorcycle, one hand clicking on the two-way holstered on her shoulder. "Suspect in flight; I'm in pursuit," she shouted before flicking her sirens on, kicking her bike into gear, and driving off after it.
Right away it was a bad chase, as not only was the mostly dirt road not very welcoming of her motorcycle, bouncing her in her seat, but the guy she was chasing was all over the road, the suspension in the car clearly less than adequate. She gasped as the car suddenly peeled off the road and towards a loan house with a white picket fence and an elaborate garden in the front. The car seemed like it was picking up speed regardless of the house directly in its path. And it was heading straight for the side of the house.
This was supposed to be just another day for Delia Ketchum, the owner of the Pallet House restaurant, amateur gardener, and the mother of would-be Pokémon Master, Ash Ketchum. The single mother, not even in her 30s, did the best she could with what she was provided in life; her husband—and she used that term very, very loosely at this point in life—had left her and her son when he was only six years old. She was torn by his sudden departure; on one hand, Ash wouldn't have a father growing up in his formative years, when he could use the mentoring and positive reinforcement. On the other hand, said father was loud, obnoxious, and rather abusive… to both her and her son, the latter of which was subjected, more than once, to the sounds of his parents shouting at one another at all hours of the night, his anger growing and his temper flaring until…
Until…
Delia didn't like to think about it. Even though it's been years, she still has flashbacks to nights like that, even with her senses dulled and pain overwhelming what other senses she could still feel during those harrowing moments. She breathed in sharply through her nose, one hand gently holding her cheek, still able to feel where a stern, dense fist struck her. She shook her head at the recollection, and continued her trek down to the basement, a basket of laundry in one hand, held against her side. The basement was unfurnished, as it was merely there to house the washer and dryer and little else. There was a bare bulb hanging down from the ceiling, two switches, at the top and bottom of the stairs, to turn it on or off. Other knickknacks of hers, stuff she didn't know where else to put, since she didn't have a garage, ended up down here, only brought up when needed, such as holiday decorations.
Currently, her "butler", a wild Mr. Mime that she named Mimey, was upstairs cleaning up the bathroom. Delia was taking care of things around her house, having talked to her son just the other day. She felt in high spirits, hearing of his journey and how he won his sixth Badge, growing closer and closer to qualifying for the Silver Conference. He had always promised her he was going to do great things as a Pokémon trainer; sure, winning championships and capturing and training new and exciting Pokémon, befriending them, bonding with them, those were all well and good. But Ash at one point gleaned how a truly skilled Pokémon Master lived—never having to worry about security, or food, or money. Yes, training Pokémon could be very rigorous, but Ash loved it, and he never thought ill of his training; hell, he looked forward to it more than anything. It was never directly said—Ash's bragging about all the things he's going to buy and how he'll end up living as a Pokémon Master notwithstanding—but Ash's end goal of becoming a successful Pokémon Master was so that he and his mom would never have to worry or want for anything ever again.
Anyone could've passed those off as the fever dreams of a ten-year-old whose eyes for the world are bigger than his proverbial stomach, but it's why Delia was so unflinchingly in favor of Ash remaining on the road for months at a time traveling, battling, and winning. Sure, it hurt seeing him go, but—however reluctantly—she put aside her loneliness and fear to let him go out and… what was the old saying? Be the very best, like no one ever was. And if that would apply to anyone, it would be Ash Ketchum.
Of course, it didn't stop the single mother from worrying when she didn't hear from her son for days at a time. Sure, he explained that he was in the wilderness in between towns, but the thought of something happening to him always lingered in the back of her mind. Actually, a lot of negative thoughts lingered around her head for far longer than they were welcome, either worst-case scenarios as to what could happen to Ash, or catching herself reliving a flashback to her failed marriage. It was why she always busied herself so much, either at her restaurant, or around the home; the massive flower beds around her home weren't just because she loved to garden. She did, but that wasn't the point; at the very least, occupying her free time with all sorts of hobbies helped keep her from dwelling on them for too long, lest she lose her composure somewhere… public.
Even losing it now, in the privacy of her own home, seemed too embarrassing, as she loaded the clothes into the washer, resting her hands on the closed washer lid, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, pause. In through the…
…wait, what was that smell?
Delia gasped as the strange smell assaulted her smell. She looked around, sniffed again, and then groused in disgust. "Oh, no…" she muttered. "Don't tell me…" She looked around the dimly lit and mostly bare basement, cautiously, not wanting the smell to overwhelm her, as she was starting to figure out just what it was. Looking up at one of the pipes running along the ceiling, near the far wall, was a black pipe that had a bit of rust where it connected to another section of pipe… and said rust had flaked away, leaving a handful of small holes. Gas was leaking out, and the woman waved her hand in disgust, trying to wave it away. "Great. Stupid gas leak…" She looked over at the wall for the nearest window, and found a rather small window, about three feet long and two feet wide, and level with the ground outside. She reached up to open it, before she grabbed hold of the window to get some fresh air in here, she saw and heard something coming bearing down at her house at a very high speed.
Delia blinked. "Wait, why is this person driving along my—" That was about all she could get out, as the old, shoddy looking car closed the distance to the window in a heartbeat. "Shit!" she shouted, turning to run in the opposite direction.
She only got about half a step.
"The hell was that?!" Tracey Sketchit shouted, dropping his pencil, which slipped through the steel grate that made up the observation deck of Professor Oak's windmill. He made a futile attempt to reach down and grab it, only to look up again when he saw smoke billowing out into the sky, the wind carrying it over the Oak Labs ranch. "Wait…" He looked up to see the smoke dissipating over head in front of him, meaning that it was coming from somewhere behind his current vantage point. He rant to the opposite side of the observation deck, forgetting about his sketchpads and pencils for the time being.
His heart started to race. Never mind he knew that explosion didn't come from the pasture, caused by some Pokémon either sparring or just having it out. This was nothing like that. As he looked over to try and see the source of the blast, he could see some of the Pokémon out in the fields looking over in in that direction as well, shocked by what they heard. The artist squinted, leaning over the railing. And that's when he saw the fire. It was causing massive columns of dark smoke to usher forth, able to be smelled even from over here. His eyes then caught the sight of an older man with light brown hair and wearing a lab coat suddenly charge out of the front door of his house, looking down the path to the main gates of his property. And that's when Tracey realized where he was looking.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
Panicking, Tracey beat a hasty retreat from the windmill, and was running as fast as his legs would take him. He slowed as best he could before clumsily coming to a stop next to him. "Professor!" Tracey shouted. "What the hell was that noise? Did something go…?" He looked at Professor Oak, whose horrified gaze was fixed on the main path, down past the gates, and across the town's main street to… "Oh, no…"
"Delia…" Professor Oak said in a daze.
"Wait, was Mrs. Ketchum home?" Tracey asked, not entirely wanting to hear the answer. That seemed to shake the professor out of his daze, and the two gazed at each other for a long moment before the silence was broken by another lab assistant sticking his head out the front door.
"Professor? Is everything alright?" he asked.
"Call the cops! Hurry!" he shouted as he ran down the path to the main gates. Tracey had already taken off, several steps ahead of him the entire way, the professor's older body not used to much exercise. The anxiety and fear that overtook him wasn't doing his aging heart any good, either. He was almost out of breath by the time he got to the edge of his property. He managed to catch up to Tracey after a couple more moments, and he froze in place next to him as they both gawked at what they saw.
The Ketchum house was ablaze.
The entire left side of the house, as well as a good chunk of the front, including the front door, had been completely destroyed, the explosion punching a hole in the house. All the windows were broken, either from the initial explosion, or from the fire engulfing everything in sight. A car had found its way into the hole in the wall, the front 2/3 of it completely scorched, and the bumper and trunk the only parts of it still above ground, having plowed into the house and collapsed the main floor, causing most of the living room and kitchen floors to collapse into the basement.
"Mime! Mime!" they heard shouted.
Tracey and Professor Oak looked to the right side of the house, in the yard, and saw Mimey, Delia's Mr. Mime butler Pokémon, getting to his feet, shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs. A few moments earlier, he heard the explosion, as he was returning from upstairs to the main living room and getting out the vacuum, but didn't see the car coming, so all he could do was ball up, wave a hasty Reflect wall around the front of him as he was launched through the opposite window, and crashed into the ground outside, rolling away a few yards before coming to a stop. He took his time getting to his feet, in a lot of pain, but when he recognized the faces of Tracey and the Professor, he ran over as fast as he could. The flailing of limbs and repeated shouts of his name didn't help calm the two human down.
"What happened here?" the Professor asked after a moment. "Who did this?" Their gazes went back to the car sticking partly out of the wall, the front end down in the basement. They couldn't get too close, due to the intense heat and the smoke pouring out. He and Tracey coughed and took a few steps back as an errant gust of wind blew some thick, black smoke right at them. They heard a third human voice, a female this time, coughing and talking into a radio.
"How did this happen?" Tracey asked. "I mean, just because some asshole drove into her house—"
"There's no way this is natural," Professor Oak said. "There must've been a gas leak, or something like that. The only Pokémon around is Mr. Mime, save for a few random wild Pidgey. And I sincerely doubt they're capable of this.
"That's my guess, too," she said, occasionally firing off confirmations or clarifications into her radio. "This guy was trying to avoid a speeding ticket and took off. Also: just ran the car's plates a few minutes ago; the car's stolen."
Tracey didn't care about that at the moment. "Look, my friend and his mom live here. I don't know where she was when this happened. She might still be trapped in there!"
"Don't worry, emergency crews are on the way as we speak." Very faintly, in the distance, they could hear the horns from firetrucks blaring.
"Still, I gotta do something!" Tracey shouted, grabbing a Poké Ball. "Marril—huh?" They heard a loud groaning sound, as well as numerous sounds of wood cracking and bending.
Jenny reacted first. "MOVE IT!" she bellowed, shoving Tracey into the Professor and forcing them away from the burning house. They stumbled backward, and fell to the ground, Jenny landing atop them. The house, meanwhile, most of its lower supports destroyed or damaged, couldn't hold up the top half of the house, and everything collapsed into a massive burning pile.
"Oh, no…" Tracey said, gawking in shock.
"Delia?! Are you in there?!" Professor Oak shouted, just as firefighters and paramedics started showing up. "Delia!" he shouted again, in vain. He doubted he could hear her if she was in there. Or maybe, she was out somewhere and would come home to a completely destroyed house. She'd be homeless, but at the very least alive. But that was wishful thinking at best. Samuel Oak didn't want to think the worst. But more and more, it was apparent that the worst was happening. Soon, fire hoses and Water-type Pokémon were deployed to quash the burning house. The Professor was led away by Tracey and the Jenny on duty, the old man walking away, feeling a grim detachment from the world around him.
Ash was as white as a sheet. His eyes were opened so wide it hurt, and his mouth hung open, his lower jaw quivering, trying to form words. The boy's legs felt like they were made of gelatin, and it felt like a herculean struggle just to say on his own two feet. "N-no…" he managed to stammer out. "Y-you…" His breath stalled out in his throat, and it hurt to talk. "You're lying…"
"I'm afraid not," Jenny said. "They found her after several hours cleaning up the debris…" Her expression was solemn, her own heart breaking as she beheld the absolute heartache and anguish displayed on the child's face. "There was… nothing anyone could do."
Ash's vision seemed to blur as he listened to Jenny talk. His heart already felt like it was going to burst just listening to her describe the grisly circumstances leading up to it, but to actually learn about it himself… well, he felt like his heart was going to explode. Or just completely shut down. Either or at this point, really.
"Mr. Ketchum… I'm so sorry."
Ash didn't hear what Jenny had said. Hell, he wasn't hearing much of anything, everything seeming to blend together in a constant, low, monotone droning sound. The edges of his vision got blurry, and the blurriness moved further and further into the center, some colors fading out, while others felt of greater intensity. Dealing with the knowledge he was just presented was wrecking his senses. He staggered away, barely able to walk, his legs threatening to give out on him with every step. He barely heard Pikachu on his shoulder, chirping at him and tugging on his head to try and steer him away from any obstacles in the way. There were few people in the Pokémon Center as it was—mostly employees, so no one who saw his breakdown would think ill of him for his reactions.
It wasn't until he almost unknowingly came within three feet of Brock and Misty that he realized where he was. "Ash…" Brock said in a voice so low he was barely aware he had said anything. He and Misty didn't hear what she was saying, but they could see Jenny's actions and Ash's reactions. Right away they knew it wasn't anything good.
Misty, meanwhile, had one hand holding Togepi, who was starting to feel Ash's sadness, her other hand held up with one of her knuckles just inches from her mouth. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "What did she say?"
Ash's weary gaze fell to his friends. "M-mom…" he managed to get out. He was unaware that tears were pouring down his face. "My… my home…" His hands shook visibly at his sides. "It… burned down… mom…" He let out a strangled moan. "Mom is…" He took another step forward, and stumbled, tripping over what felt like nothing. "S-she…" As soon as his face landed against his friends' bodies, he let out a loud, muffled shout, immediately breaking down sobbing. They caught him, and guided him to a nearby bench that no one was using. They moved him in between the two of them. Ash was already hunched over, his face in his hands, clutching at his head tightly, while tears poured out of his eyes and he could do nothing more than let out body wracking sobs. Brock rubbed his back gently, trying his best to remain strong… or at the very least, neutral. He knew Ash had seen him as an older brother, and he, more than ever, would more than likely lean on him for emotional support. Sure, he grieved for the departed Mrs. Ketchum, but he felt it better to keep everything in. For now.
Misty, on the other hand, was in a similar state to Ash. She set Togepi down, who sat next to the three of them, a sorrowful expression on his face, feeling all of their negative emotions more intensely now. She leaned on Ash, her left arm against his back, and held her face against her arm, quietly crying as well. Her other hand found Ash's as it left his face for a moment, and he gripped it tightly, almost until it hurt. But neither of them cared. Misty cared about Delia a lot, as well. She didn't have a mother of her own growing up, having been "raised" by her three sisters whose concern for her wellbeing was circumspect a lot of times. After going through Kanto with Ash, her feeling developing for him, and getting to see his home and his mother, she had bonded with the kind, caring woman, feeling completely at peace while in her presence. She didn't even mind when she started treating her and Brock like her own kids—i.e. shouting at them when they were doing anything wrong or bad, and accepting that they'd help around the house while they stayed there.
But she was gone. And her only son had nowhere left to go in the world, no home to return to. Pallet may be his home town, but with his home destroyed and Delia Ketchum dead—and it hurt all of them so much to even string that phrase together, even in their heads—there would be a massive void that could never be filled.
Notes:
Welp. Here it is.
I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a long time now. I mean going WAY back. To the mid- to late-90s (fuck, I'm old) and writing fanfiction where anime, games, etc. collided with professional wrestling. It was a crazily stupid as it sounds. Anyhow, these three series in particular meshed together well enough in a way that I and the few writers working with me at the time decided to spin them off into their own series. But there was no time travel chicanery or meddling with reality or anything like that. They were just...there. Well, I'm older and wiser(ish) now, and while I've always boasted about being Master of the Written Word, I haven't had much of a thrill in writing much of anything lately. My life kind of went to hell in the past few years or so, and things have only recently gotten "better". Thankfully, with my social media blowing up over NaNoWriMo, I decided to take another crack at that. Heh...imagine my surprise when I saw "fanfiction" was a category they accepted.
Actually, I'll be splitting my writing efforts between this and another fic that was almost abandoned (well, actually was, since it was YEARS between chapters, the last one ending in the middle of a battle), so hopefully this will keep me motivated throughout not just the month of November, but through the months and years after that, spurring me to keep writing. Positive feedback and positive criticism will also help out.
Oh, yes...this chapter sure does start off sad, doesn't it? Yeah; it sucked killing off one of my favorite motherly-type characters (and easily my favorite non-main Pokemon character), but that was a key part of the old "continuity" and now, I can explore the depths someone goes through when they lose a loved one. Happened to me, too, as of June 2016. Expect to see a lot of chapters in 11/2016. As for after that, well...time will tell. Plus, with "only" three series to intermingle here, I'll be able to keep a better lock on who's doing what, and where, despite the robust casts all three series have.
Also: I'm starting a habit where every title is related to some kind of song or something related to music in someway—maybe a song title or a lyric, but not always. And they may not have any real connection with the chapter itself. I just thought a lyric or title sounded interesting enough to mesh with a key plot point or something of that nature. I think I've been watching too much AMV Hell. You can think of it as a soundtrack, if you like.
Well, anyhow...enjoy.
