Chapter 1 - Early Life Crisis

The young man lay flat on his back, unmoving, save for slow, shallow, and ragged breath. Strands of raven hair stuck to the sweaty grime of his face. Glazed eyes stared blankly upwards. The world was in chaos around him; roaring fire, billowing smoke, a myriad of screaming, and the clash of steel on steel. Dark silhouettes danced amongst the sickening orange of flame, bright against the gloom night. The shrill calls of his beloved yellow mouse, mixed with the anguished howls some other familiar Pokémon were scarcely audible through the turmoil. The earsplitting screeching roar of some terrible monster cut through the mayhem momentarily, before the deafening crescendo of battle was restored once more.

All of this, however, was muffled and distant as he lay there, as were the smells of smoke, and sour rotting flesh, the taste of blood, and of cracked lips. There were more preoccupying matters. The world was spinning. Nausea. Cold sweats. His whole body was weak and aching. But most of all, there was pain - raw, deep, and agonizing. It radiated out from his left torso, reaching every nerve fiber, burning and blinding. And there was something else, a warm, oozing liquid, slowly pooling from his side. Ash Ketchum of Pallet town had never felt such pain before. He had never felt such fear.

Seven days earlier. September 15th, 2006. Pallet Town.

Ash Ketchum fell backwards, slumping into his now too small, childhood bed. Exhaling, he glanced around the tiny room, memorabilia from past adventures covering every inch of available space. His eye caught a picture of himself, his first day as a Pokémon trainer, an eager ten-year-old donned in pyjamas, with a grumpy Pikachu scowling beside him. Now, over ten years later, the same electric mouse snuggled lovingly into his side, its golden fur sparking slightly, as it sighed with a happy, dozy "chu". Ash kicked off his shoes one by one whilst absentmindedly scratching Pikachu's fuzzy ears, the Pokémon cooing with delight.

At 20, Ash had changed from the bright-eyed little twerp in the photograph. Following a series of a ridiculously rapid growth spurts in his late teens; he now stood near 6 foot tall, broad shouldered, but with a skinny, athletic build. His thick mass of raven hair was wild as always, yet verged on becoming too long, hanging a couple of inches above his shoulders, the weight of it dampening the spikiness it once possessed, and the ends beginning to turn ever so slightly wavy. Freckles still adorned his face and formed two Z shapes on each cheek (if you connected the dots, and squinted hard enough.) However, his auburn eyes did not seem so bright as ten years before.

To put it plainly he was tired. Tired with travel, tired with loss, and tired of his childish ambition of 'Pokémon Master' whatever that was supposed do be. His eyes now began to move across other photos, pictures of the many and varied friends and traveling companions of his youth. His thoughts ran through their lives, the paths they had chosen.

Misty, bright eyed and fiery, in both hair and personality, had run the Cerulean gym very successfully for a few years, before deciding to go back to school, and was now off studying Pokémon marine biology at a university somewhere in Unova. Brock had flown through Pokémon med school and was now interning in a major Pokémon hospital. May had become an international level coordinator, and a year ago had become one of the youngest judges in coordinating history in the most recent Hoenn Grand Festival. Young Max, who had seen some success as a trainer, had also returned to school, hoping to get into a top University for Pokémon research. On the other hand, Dawn, despite success, had moved on from coordinating, and was now studying fashion and design in a prestigious college in Lumiose City. Cilan, of course, had become an S rank connoisseur, and was in the process of publishing his first book on the subject, whereas Iris… Iris had beaten Ash to his dream and had risen to become the esteemed champion of Unova, as a terrifically strong dragon specialist. He hadn't even gotten past the Unovan elite four to face her himself.

Sighing, Ash rolled over to curl around Pikachu (who had now dozed off), the bed creaking beneath him, as his thoughts quickly ran on to his Kalosian friends. Bonnie had taken over the Lumiose gym, with great success, whilst her brother, Clemont, returned to college, and was already well into a Ph.D. in electrical engineering. And Serena, Serena perhaps had the biggest success story of all. After becoming Kalos Queen at such an early age, she was snapped up by the movie industry, initially starring in artsy Kalos film, but after some big breaks, and many awards, was now a global movie star, an A-lister in Poké-Hollywood. They had actually dated for a while, her and Ash, for a couple of years during their teens, but, much to her distraught, he had broken it off. He was just a scruffy trainer from the back arse of Kanto; he was just holding her back, as her starlit career blossomed. Well, that what he had convinced himself with, and had failed to convince Serena with, but the break happened anyway. She still put in the effort to keep in contact – snap chats, small gifts (she still baked), texts of support before his matches… but perhaps not now as much as she used to.

Everyone, everyone had grown up, and moved on, fulfilling ambitions, achieving dreams. And yet here he was, stuck in the same rut. Bumming around the countryside of some region or another until league season, losing, and then starting again. Sure, after travelling Kalos, at around age 15, he had begun to win the small regional leagues, the ones you needed badges for. And once you won those, you could then face that region's elite four, you could enter the champion leagues. But the difference in level was staggering. Instead of badge collecting, he would spend the off-seasons travelling and training (with suitable levels of procrastination), usually alone, his friends having moved on from the childhood lifestyle of a Pokémon Trainer. And then the time would come to face the Elite Fours. It wasn't so much that these trainers were ridiculously skilled and powerful, but rather the consecutive nature of the Elite Four challenge itself that was particularly punishing. He never really got further than beating two or three in a row, before his team was wiped out, despite a panicked usage of potions between matches. And then it was another year of the same stagnant routine of training and travelling.

Ash began to scratch Pikachu behind the neck absentmindedly as the small Pokémon began to snore softly. He had faced the Sinnoh League just over a month ago, and it had been the furthest he had gotten yet, finally battling through and defeating an entire Elite Four. His team were tired and a bit bashed up but still raring to go. Except there was still the champion to face, and in Sinnoh, Champion Cynthia still reigned supreme, undefeated after all these years. Ash rolled onto his back again, and closed his eyes, as fresh memories of the blinding stadium lights, and the swell of the deafening crowd chanting his name played in his head. He could still taste the overconfidence and the adrenaline as his dream became tangibly close. But then the stadium was plunged into darkness, the crowd was silenced, as she walked out, golden hair and dark coat billowing behind her. Her steely eyes narrowed and locked on to his. She smiled. And his heart sank. He knew he didn't stand a chance. He managed to stand up to some of her team, even defeating a couple of her Pokémon, but as soon as that Garchomp was sent out, it was over. The images of its sinister golden eyes, as it effortlessly swept through his team, were still burnt into his memory.

And what now? He was back in Pallet town, back to square one. He hated staying in one place, despite home comforts, but he couldn't face the thought of travelling aimlessly again, only to be shot down once more next year. Yes, he had improved vastly as a trainer over the years, but that progress seemed to be leveling off. How many more years would it take to beat a champion, to be a champion – for that is what he now thought the vague concept of 'Pokémon Master' must mean. Would he ever even achieve that, or was he at his peak level now? Was it all downhill from here? Why had he so adamantly pursued this single childish dream, instead of growing up, and taking up one of the countless offers for gym leader posts, or even the odd proposition to become a frontier brain? Maybe then his life would have direction, purpose, or at least focus. Maybe that's what he should do, he had phone numbers, and he could take up one of those offers right now!

Ash swung his legs over the side of the bed, and bolted upright, much to the displeasure of a disgruntled Pikachu. Grabbing his phone from his jeans pocket, he began to type in a number, but paused and slowly dropped ping the device out of his hands, his figure slumping. This was not what he wanted. "Pikapiiii…." Groaned his electric mouse pleadingly, as it hopped down onto the floor to pick up the phone. "Look, buddy, we never wanted to be a leader, or a brain " Ash began as he stood up. "Now, I know we don't know just what we want exactly" he continued, as Pikachu rolled its eyes, "but it's not this…" Ash grumbled, trailing off, pacing the room. Pikachu dropped the phone, hopped back up onto the bed, and sighed, sitting in a loaf shape, and flattening its ears along it's back, it's deep brown eyes following its trainer around the room.

"C'mon Pikachu, don't give me that loo- " but Ash was cut off, suddenly aware of the hairs on the back of his neck prickling and standing up. And then he heard it "Click, tick, click". Pikachu's ears pricked up. Something was tapping at his window. "If it's these bloody fangirls again, I'll… " He muttered, striding across the room to swing open the bedroom window. He stuck his head out into the cool night are, and swore, as a small stone hit his forehead. Looking down, instead of "fangirls", standing in the yard was a tall dark figure and a dark Pokémon. A large, blue brimmed hat, torn and tattered at the back, covered the man's face, though a shock of spiky black hair could be seen sticking out from underneath. A Lucario stood by his side, the Jackal Pokémon cool and stoic in the shadows. Before Ash had time to react properly, the man hurled another, much larger stone at the window. Stumbling back, Ash fumbled to catch it as it flew at him, nearly dropping it. "Hey! What the fuck man?!" Ash yelled, lurching his head back out the window… but the pair was gone. "Pikapi?"Pikachu yelped, bounding across the room, and leaping up onto its trainer's shoulders. Turning away from the window, Ash looked down at the stone cupped in his hands. Wrapped around it was a folded piece of paper, tied with string. Ash and Pikachu looked at each other, and then back to the rock, sharing a synchronized frown. Letting the rock clunk to the floor, he unwrapped the paper, which contained a note, the black writing scrawled and messy. Exchanging another look with Pikachu, Ash began to read:

Ash.

My name is Riley. We met seven years ago - the Iron Islands in Sinnoh if you recall. You know what I am. I have been to the Tree of Life, I have seen the time flowers, and I know what you are. There is an urgent matter I must discuss with you; it's best that we talk in person. Please meet me at the western gate of Oak's ranch in 20 minutes.

Riley

Hm I edited the first chapter (just spelling mistakes) and It cut off like the second half of the chapter? (Including the original author's notes!). Anyway, welcome, I'm finally going to try and bang out this story I have been meaning to write for years! A word of warning, I am very slow, and due to college hell, chapter posting will be sporadic lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

One last thing, at the end of each chapter I'm going to leave the title to a piece of music or a song, something that fits what shit is going down, or the mood etc.

This week's song is Half the World Away by Oasis :)