A/N: I am not accepting characters, and I will not continue this story anytime soon. I might one day, but that dream seems a bit far away. I have, fortunately, gotten much better at writing.

Enjoy the chapter.

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Why: Khione's Legends and Secrets

Chapter One

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Ash glided his fingers across the smooth surface of a framed article that had featured him in one of his wins against the gym leaders of Sinnoh. He stared at with his dark brown eyes as he reminisced about days spent under a burning sun, playing with Pokémon and chatting (Read: arguing) with Dawn.

Now that he thought about, he quite dearly missed these times, where they would be so oblivious and so blissfully ignorant of the hardships of reality. It had been a fun wondrous time of development, meeting other kids and realizing that the world did not revolve around you (that was quite surprising; he hadn't realized that other wanted to be Pokémon Masters too until he was beaten in a fight against a rival. Now that was a new thing for him.)

He could hear scuffling footsteps outside the door, which he guest belonged to his mother. There was a rapping sound produced by knuckles on wood that echoed in the barren room.

And it was all because of his father, he thought with anger, all because of him.

But his mother could have at least tried to tell him (he tried to imagine his mother confessing to him in the middle of lunch. 'Hey, I never told you before, but your dad is apparently a master mind genius, out for the world and hoping to use you too! Now isn't that a nice bonding Father-Son time?' Yes, not your everyday lunch topic, but still!)

"Ash?" His mother's voice was laced with concern. "Are you alright?"

And now he couldn't see his friends, he ignored her as he thought. He had to travel to a new freaking region, and not at all for gym battling reasons.

He didn't realize what he was doing until the sound of breaking glass rang in his ears and his mother's shrieking voice entered his system.

He stared in fascination at the broken newspaper; the Ash from before has changed and he couldn't bear seeing that proudly naïve face anymore. He leaned down and grasped the glass shards in his hands, numb to the feeling of sharp glass entering his skin. It was so broken, just like him.

"Ash Ketchum," his mother pounded on the door, her voice filled with authority," open this door right this instance."

It wouldn't do for her to see his bloody hands; her mother was only stuck in a desperate illusion that they would be alright. It was his entire father's fault.

He ripped a piece of his blanket and wrapped it around his hand, thankfully the blanket was black and seemed to cover the fact that his hands were injured.

He opened the door and offered his mother a small smile. "Sorry, I was asleep."

His mother shot him a suspicious glance and tried to peer behind him, but he closed the door so it was only his form that was visible. "Do you need something?"

"What was the sound?" His mother demanded, "That crashing sound?"

"I-I broke the alarm when I suddenly woke up. I didn't like that pidgey alarm anyway, so it's okay!" He lied cheerfully. He wasn't the best liar and especially not with his own mother.

His mother didn't pry any farther but it was obvious that she wasn't really fond of the pidgey alarm lie. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He forced a tired yawn (that sounded more like he was sighing at something stupid) and stretched. "I don't know, Mom, I'm really tired now. What do you want me talk about?" That wasn't a complete lie, either. He was actually tired, and he had no clue what he was supposed to talk about (although he did have a list of topics he could talk about, all of them involved cussing, and his mother wasn't exactly a cussing fan.)

His mother sent a sad tired look that made him noticed the tired black circles under her eyes and the way her hair was a darker shade of brown and unkempt. "Never mind, dear, go back to sleep, I'm going to a friend of mine's today and won't come back till late at night, so you should cook dinner or buy some from the diner next door." She said wistfully. Probably thinking about the diner she left back in Kanto. It made Ash feel guilty. Delia was clad in a black pencil skirt and a white blouse with her hair tied in a perfect bun, dressed for a meeting or work, not really what Ash would call clothes for hanging out with friends.

"Alright, Mom, have a good time!"

She smiled back at him before leaving the house. Once thirty minutes passed and he was sure she left, he too, dressed in a black coat, left the house.

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A/N: Sorry it didn't meet your standards. I have a mother hanging with me and confused father along with hungry cousins and siblings rampaging the house for anything that had sugar in it. Not exactly a suitable writing place, but beggars can't be choosers.

I want to repeat that I'm only reediting the chapters so they won't be long and not really perfect, okay?

Thanks, have a good day!

Hopeless Desires.