Ash really didn't know what to say, or even what to think. On one hand, he supposed that he should be glad that he would have a sibling. On the other, his mother's pregnancy period was a nightmare. She got upset at things she really didn't even care about, she, for whatever strange reason, found herself craving sweetmeats, forcing his father to make daily trips to Viridian City. Of course, that meant that he was stuck home, looking after his mother who insisted on making 'heart-to-heart', as she called them, conversations. Damn, she even gave him a 'birds-and-bees' speech, all because Leaf decided to visit them. Yes, he supposed he should be glad, but why did Arceus have to make pregnancies so damn complicated?
The baby has, at long last, been delivered, much to the Ketchums' relief. While the soothing light radiating from the moon touched the newborn's skin for the first time, the child… still needed to be cleaned, so to speak, which was why the two men of the Ketchum family were waiting outside.
The little boy, Ash, was, understandably, excited; but, of course, with a tint of anxiety; would the baby be born healthy, or would it- no, she, according to Professor Oak- inherit some deadly disease?
"You're worried, aren't you?" Ash felt a hand reassuringly clasp his shoulders; it might not have meant much in many situations, but in the Senshi culture- the code of honour strictly followed by the Asahian military, clasping a shoulder was called a 'Sonkei'. The gesture was equivalent to a 'hug', a gesture of affection that was considered a sign of weakness due to its supposed femininity. Clasping a shoulder on the other hand, was also a way of showing respect to your comrades; and Ash didn't quite know if he should be happy or sad about it.
On one hand, his father respected him enough to extend him the gesture; and in a society where children were expected to be obedient 'students' to their parents, that was a very good thing. On the other hand, Ash couldn't explain the feeling that something has almost… sucked in a part of him, leaving a big void inside. No, that was probably worry about his newborn sister; yep, definitely. His relationship with his father was perfectly fine. "Or were they?" A tiny voice whispered to Ash, hissing like the snake from legends of the Garden of Eden in the faraway Christian lands.
Shaking his head from the troubling thoughts, Ash turned to his father.
"Of course you are worried; that's perfectly fine." The clock struck 12 at that precise moment, making Ash wonder if life was just a script where everything was pre-planned, or if the strange, suspiciously timely occurrences where mere coincidences. His father however, ignored it wholly; Ash sometimes envied his parent's ability to shut off external sounds at will.
After a moment of silence, Ash saw his father lean back to gaze at the moon out of the corner of his eyes. "You know," Ash heard his father say, "I had a sibling too." Ash perked up in interest; while his father told him about a lot of interesting things, ranging from great scientists to the lives of famous generals, from the structure of the Asahian military to legends of the faraway land of Kalos, his father had never revealed anything from his personal life. So Ash subconsciously sat up straight, oblivious to the thoughts running- no, flashing past like a blazing bullet in his father's head.
Connor was looking at the moon; after almost four days of constant blizzards, a clear night sky was a very welcome sight. But that was all Connor was doing; he was merely looking at it, giving the glance little to no attention. Instead, his thoughts were subconsciously focused on the images fleeting through his head. And try as he might, he couldn't catch any of those images; every time it seemed like he was going to have to relive those horrible times, the images evaded his brain, fleeing like a cunning, slippery vulpine. But yet, they still forced the memories back into his head. He remembered his mother… He remembered how she, too had gotten pregnant… He remembered the day when she finally gave birth… And, by some cruel twist of fate, she died.
Connor also remembered, quite vividly, the depression into which his father fell at the death of his life-mate… Before miraculously recovering, carried on by the love to his new son… He remembered how his father would spend entire days at cradle, playing with the sickly baby… Before his little brother died from an illness, inherited from his grandmother…. Fate was cruel, was it not? Wrenching away a woman, one part wife, one part mother, from the people who loved her the most; and then, poetically delivering the final, crushing blow by taking the only remaining memory of her that was left. Why poetic? Because none of those deaths could be prevented; both were 'fated', as the priest said.
Professor Oak smiled softly. He couldn't explain why, perhaps it was the soft spot he had for children, perhaps it was something that was instinctively instilled to humans for them to care for their future generations… Nevertheless, the Connor's face relaxing in relief, the exhausted, yet happy and caring smile on Delia's face, the curious and slightly nervous look on little Ash's face all filled the aged professor with a strange euphoric sensation. He vividly remembered the first time his wife gave birth, delivering him John- the father of Gary and Daisy, his two precious grandchildren. He remembered the tired smile his wife had as she gazed at the tiny bundle of energy in her arms; Oak could almost see John crawl all over the place while his ever faithful Arcanine kept a watchful eye on the baby.
"Well, the baby appears to be healthy. However, be careful with the child; this year's winter is particularly harsh." Oak dried his hands in a towel, trying to keep a smile off his face at the sight of Connor's Espeon carefully pad towards Delia, prodding her, curiously studying the baby.
"Why would the weather matter?" All heads turned incredulously at Ash who looked down in embarrassment. "I mean, she'll be in the building, right?"
Professor Oak chuckled good-naturedly. "Newborns are much more sensitive to cold, largely due to their thinner skin and underdeveloped thermal-regulating system." Oak didn't expect Ash to understand that, of course. After years of experience, Oak found out that children would stop pestering for answers if he started talking in a more formal language. So imagine his surprise when the little boy tilted his head to the side in curiousity, not the least unfazed by that.
"'Thermo' is Latin for temperature, right?" Oak knew that ever since Connor came back, he immediately set Ash upon a strict dictatorial- err, educational regime; hell the whole town knew about it. Of course, when one of the most loud and mischievous kids suddenly sits down behind the table, you know something has changed. But nevertheless, Oak didn't know that little Ash had progressed this far; though, it could have just been his rather obvious interest in history –especially its cultural on social aspects, but the boy's speech patterns alluded to something much bigger. At the age of 7, not only did Ash know a lot of 'advanced' words, but he also actively used them; any new word that he learned, he would hastily incorporate into his vocabulary (leading to all sorts of awkwardly built sentences for a day or two). But the boy's probing gaze reminded Oak that he had to give an answer.
"Yes, Ash; 'thermo' indeed means temperature in Latin. Thus, 'thermo-regulation' is, in this case, the body's ability to change its internal temperature in accordance to the external temperature. For instance, your body warms up when it is cold outside; on contrary, if it is hot, your body lowers its heat levels by sweating- evaporating some of the water." Oak smiled as Ash bounced up slightly- just slightly, barely noticeably; but not to Oak's trained eyes. That action showed Ash's excitement at learning something new- well, aside from his sparkling eyes and relaxed eyebrows, that is. Internally however, Oak sighed; Gary used to be the same. But the letter his favourite (and only) grandson had sent him a while ago felt so… formal, cold even.
Connor clenched his fists as he read the newspaper; the presidential elections were coming up, and, to be frank, the candidates were little more than clowns. That silly Uttuba Ningyo, with his silly claims about 'modernizing the law', the, for the lack of better terms, stupid Fantouche Shippai, with his plans of 'improving their relations with the Unovans'... The constitution didn't need changes, and they most definitely, most definitely didn't need to 'improve their relations' with the vile Unovans. They ought to punish the murderers, not shake hands with them. What has the country gone to…
"What is it, dear?" Connor found his shoulders sagging down slightly as his eyebrows straightened back. Delia's voice just had that strange effect on him.
"Oh, just the news, darling." Glancing at the kitchen, he saw Espeon gingerly pawing the cradle, curiously looking at the baby from different angles, carefully making sure that the child didn't wake up at the same time.
"So, any ideas on how we're going to name the baby?" Connor said as he set down the newspaper. Well, the politicians may be horrible, but he wouldn't let anyone ruin his daughter's Vesting Day- the day that she'll finally receive a name. As silly as it is, the Asahian religion preached that the baby shall only be named exactly one month and seven days after he or she was born; for, quote-unquote, 'that is when the spirits of the family's ancestors arrive to give their blessing to the newborn'. Connor, of course, thought that the tradition was very silly; even if the spirits of their ancestors did come, then why would they need seven entire days? However, this is yet another tradition that the townspeople fanatically follow,' outlawing' anyone who didn't go along with the flow.
"I don't know, dear. She was born in July, so maybe we could name her Julia?"
Connor stood up; it was 7 in the morning- the time when he would go meditating. "No. Your great-grandmother 's name was Julia, wasn't it?"
"Right." Connor knew that in his wife's family, her great-grandmother was someone no one dared mention. Heck- her name has become a byword used for cursing. And naming their daughter 'Julia' would certainly evoke the wrath of their ancestors, if the Vesting Day's traditions were to be believed.
"Let's see, so if AB is parallel to CD, then in means that…" Ash was, like usual, sitting on a stone near a pond- his favourite place in Pallet. It was quiet, close to his home, there were multiple trees, the local Pokemon weren't hostile… oh, and the other kids never went here. Well, except for Leaf; and, as if life was a big epic tale with everything timed just perfectly, a small girl bounded up- or, in this case, down, to him.
Feeling a smile form on his face, Ash shook his head slightly and decided to just continue doing the mathematical problems his Dad gave him, hoping that she wouldn't drag him into yet another crazy game that would end up taking all of his time.
"Hey Ash!" Ash sighed. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't help but smile every time she was around. Then again, they do say that laughter is contagious, and Leaf just doesn't seem to know how to frown.
"What is it?" Ash purposely dragged on the sentence, faking annoyance. Well, there went his plans of completing his homework before lunch- ow! Damn, that girl could punch.
Rubbing his arm, Ash glared at his female companion. "What was that for?"
To his surprise, Leaf just simply laughed, her voice flowing like a soft mountain brook. "You know you're glad to see me, you great oaf. So quit acting tough!"
"Oh, alright." Ash folded his notebook, setting it aside. "So, how was the beach?" Ash had that strange feeling of being watched, almost as if a thousand souls were hungrily watching the scene, chanting the lyrics of the song 'Kiss the Girl'. But, like most fiction characters, he merely shrugged it off.
"Oh, it was fine. Nothing special…" Leaf's deep hazel eyes twinkled mischievously, her eyebrows slanting downwards at a sharp angle. At that very moment, Ash had an inescapable feeling of dread pounce on him, mercilessly tearing away at his spine; after all, this particular facial expression meant that his friend had an idea. And her 'ideas' rarely ended well for him.
"Though I did have a cute guy following me around…" Ash, feeling his face heating up, quickly turned around in a valiant, but ultimately futile effort to hide his blush. She'd surprised him! Again!
"Jeez, what happened to the shy, timid girl who'd let herself be bullied by kids below her age?" Ash grinned; he knew that he'd hit the right mark, if her burrowing her head in his shoulder and muttering 'jerk' was anything to say.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Ash tapped lightly on his friend's head- he was starting to get uncomfortable.
"BLGHRHG!" Leaf suddenly pulled out and roared, making Ash jump slightly, falling behind on the grass, much to her amusement.
Ash sat back up indignantly, rubbing his neck. "Stop doing that!"
"Hey, that's no way to treat a lady!" Leaf could only hold a straight face for so long, before both of them erupted with laughter.
Meanwhile, a Pidgey tilted its head to the side, watching the two children play with utmost attention, taking in every detail. Seeing the two play like that, sharing stories and just having fun in general, caused avian giggle a bit, using her wing to cover her mouth. Hours passed, and the Pidgey still sat on the tree branch, carefully watching the children. However, as the rainclouds approached, the avian lifted her head, her eyes glowing a light azure blue light, before beating her wings and flying off into the horizon. Away from the town, away from the other Pokemon, away from prying eyes….
Gary frowned at the window. It was raining again. The Academy was a boarding school; the students who attended were, as he found out, either prodigies who were elitist snobs, or kids of the ruling class who thought they owned the world. Then again, the teachers had quickly disabused them of that notion, but the first year has still been annoying.
Right now, it was the summer. However, Garry just couldn't bring himself to go back to Pallet town. Not when his only friend failed to show up on the day he was to leave. Gary wracked his brain, thinking just why his friend would do that. And then he realized; Ash didn't need him anymore. He had his father now; his father and he "would have so much fun"! Why would he need strange, crazy old Gary!
So no, he just couldn't bring himself to go back home, instead electing to stay behind to attend the summer courses. Though all of his dorm-mates had left. And so, as the rain drummed on, and a few occasional lightning bolts raced across the sky, illuminating the dark, dreary clouds, Gary lay on his bed, quietly contemplating life, even as his book lay next to him, forgotten.
"So, how are you going to name her?" Samuel Oak quietly whispered as he stood near the cradle, careful not to wake the baby up.
"I don't know." Connor whispered back in an equally hushed voice. "We are still choosing between 'Catherine' and 'Brook'."
"What, afraid she'll turn out just like Actia?" Oak could almost feel the other male frown; well, he had known him for quite some time. And moreover, Actia's name has become a byword for, err, a lot of inappropriate words. Once a young, talented girl whose voice has touched many a heart, she took a turn for worse, ultimately becoming a shame for the whole nation.
"You know, it has more to do with the upbringing than the names, right?" Oak couldn't help but chuckle. Connor, as opposed to his wife, was extremely conservative, fervently defending the old traditions. Yet despite that, he seemed to harbour a deep resentment towards religion.
"Well, nevertheless, you'd better make up your mind quickly; the ritual is about to start." Oak could have sworn that there was a brief flicker of annoyance in Connor's eyes before he turned away.
"You know, you could at least smile a little." Oak shook his head in exasperation as Connor stood at the window, staring at the rain, no doubt in deep thought.
"You know, Connor, you don't always have to plan everything ahead. Trust your old man; sometimes you just have to go along with the flow of life." To Oak's surprise, Connor turned around.
"If only things were that simple." Oak's eyes widened at the sight. Connor's most distinguishable feature were his eyes- they were dark grey, almost wolf-like eyes that almost seemed to pierce into one's soul, taking out the defensive layers bit by bit. But those weren't the eyes Oak saw now; he saw eyes that were almost… empty, defeated. It was almost as if he was looking into the eyes of the titan Atlas, utterly defeated by the burden he carried on his shoulders.
"Professor, we both know that having children is a great responsibility, so how can you just go with the flow!" Oak couldn't help but note the slight hints of desperation in Connor's voice. Knowing he just needed some space to sort things out, Oak wordlessly went out of the room, sighing in pity: Connor was always a responsible young man – perhaps too responsible for his own sake.
Delia sat at the couch, stroking the little Espeon, absent-mindedly looking at the window. Somehow she couldn't help but wonder if Connor will be alright. From the times when he led the other children –herself included- in a daring escape from the town, held by Unovans, to the time when he joined the RTF, something just didn't sit very well in Delia. And it wasn't envy or pride; but rather, as strange as it might seem, pity. Many people would puzzle over the mere notion of pitying a man like Connor. After all, with a handful of exceptions, he was what many might call an ideal image of a man; brave, disciplined, patriotic…
But those 'many people' didn't really understand him. When they ran away from the Unovans, Connor was visibly shaken; his voice, usually so full of confidence, took to faltering, his kneecaps shook when he was asked what to do next, the almost… empty, overwhelmed look… And even when he went to join the RTF, she could see he was conflicted; torn between the choice of staying with his family and finally settling down like he had always wanted, and the feeling of honour and duty to his Fatherland. While those are the choices that most men had to take, Delia knew how much both of those choices affected her dear Connor.
And now… She knew he was starting to get restless. Perhaps a happy family life just isn't for him. But… As she accidently rubbed Espeon on the wrong spot, the feline grunted in disapproval, making Delia laugh. The little girl sure was smart.
Speaking of little girls, Delia glanced over to the room in which Connor and professor Oak were, wondering if the baby was still sleeping. Well, she would know if the baby woke up, that's for sure. Her little baby would just cry without a break, until either she, or Ash took her up. Strangely enough, the baby instantly took a liking to her son, playing with his thumbs every time he was near. Even stranger though, the baby seemed to be afraid of Connor; while his many scars did give him an intimidating look, that was hardly a reason for her to be scared of him. Though she didn't cry when she saw him, Delia nervously noted how the baby would shrink back a little bit into the cradle.
And that was problematic, to say the least.
Ash curiously flipped over to the next page, hungrily drinking in the information from the book. The book was titled "Symbolism and Botany", and it was, ironically, a gift to him from Leaf. The 700 pages book covered the structures of different plants, flowers included. However, it also included an extensive list on the potential meanings those plants had in different cultures. And the things that some flowers symbolize are just fascinating! Like how a yellow rose can symbolize not just friendship, but envy and betrayal as well! Sort of ironic, since the book's cover was green- the bright, vibrant colour of life and nature, as well as dark jealousy.
And currently, Ash was reading the section dedicated to the lily flowers.
"Let's see, they're Lilies are tall perennials ranging in height from 2–6 ft (60–180 cm). They form naked or tunicless scaly underground bulbs which are their overwintering organs. In some North American species the base of the bulb develops into rhizomes, on which numerous small bulbs are found. Some species develop stolons. Most bulbs are deeply buried, but a few species form bulbs near the soil surface. Many species form stem-roots. With these, the bulb grows naturally at some depth in the soil, and each year the new stem puts out adventitious roots above the bulb as it emerges from the soil. These roots are in addition to the basal roots that develop at the base of the bulb."
Glancing over to the edge of the page, Ash saw a picture depicting a girl tending to a handful of flowers. The girl was dressed simply; a black, torn-up cape with a hood was draped on her back, carefully concealing her face, giving her an aura of mystery. And yet, the girl wasn't the first thing that came to mind when looking at the picture; the white lily flowers the girl was tending to practically glowed on the dark, gritty background. Ash didn't know why, but the sharp contrast between the gleaming white flowers and the otherwise depressing picture gave him a rather… uplifting sensation. It was a strange, yet at the same time, familiar sensation.
But, the clock ticked on, so Ash, deciding to leave it for later, looked over to the next page. "The beautiful flower comes in many colors- but mostly, in the western culture the flower's meaning remains the same. Lilies typically symbolize hope in western literature (though white ones in particular may also symbolize innocence) …" Innocence… Hope… Then, a thought conceived itself in Ash's head- what is innocence? Is it, as they say, turning a blind eye to the troubles of the world? Or is it simply ignorance? So many questions, yet so few answers…
"What are you reading?" Ash jumped up slightly, whipping his head around in surprise. Behind him stood Professor Oak. His heart thumping, Ash relaxed, turning back to face the old man.
"Oh, Professor-" Oak waved his hand casually, almost as if willing him stop. "Just call me Samuel."
Ash frowned lightly; in Asahia, there was a great deal of attention placed on what an individual could do for society. Thus, people tended to call others by their titles, unless, of course, they were part of one family. And while Ash knew that Professor Oak was close to both of his parents, his father still insisted on calling him Professor. His mom on the other hand, called everyone by their names, saying that each person is a jewel, regardless of their position in the hierarica- wait, no, hierarchical ladder. And while his father does frown upon his mom's rather western views, Ash doesn't see it affecting their family life in any way.
"So Ash, what are you reading?" The genuine curiosity in Oak's voice melted the rather… complicated thoughts away.
"Oh, just a book." Upon seeing the book's cover, Oak's eyes widened- this was handwritten copies of one of the most valuable book in human history! Moreover, the book definitely contained a lot of advanced information, like a list of all known genetic traits. And, looking at the notes that little Ash had made, Oak could see that the boy had a basic understanding of genetics- an impressive feat for his age, if one was willing to overlook several minor mistakes.
"Hey, Ash, my boy. You do see that note you made, right?"
Ash nodded, not knowing what the professor was leading him to.
"Actually, you made a mistake. There is no such combination as ABB for that flower." Ash was rather surprised; he had double checked it and everything! So what gives?
"Because, in this case, genome A is one that is responsible for the flower's colour, whereas genome B is responsible for the pattern's colour; you can't mix the two together when the problem asks you to find the odds of the flower having a pure white colour." Realization dawned on Ash.
"So you can't mix them like that?" Oak just shook his head in amusement. Perhaps Ash would...
"You could, but in this case, it is rather pointless." Seeing the boy nod his head understandingly, before rushing to look through his notes to spot if he had made a similar mistake elsewhere, sealed Oak's determination to carry out his plan. Yep, he's the one.
"You know Ash, you're a very studious boy." Seeing the boy tilt his head to the side in curiouity just made Oak chuckle.
"So, I would like to…"
"So, have you decided on a name yet?" Delia softly asked her husband, taking his hand.
"No" was the only reply she got, while Connor absentmindedly looked at the window. That wouldn't do it, Delia thought with a smirk.
"Hey, Con." Delia could have sworn that she saw a flash of annoyance in Connor's eyes. Suddenly, though, as the last candle was lit, a light breeze snaked through the room, playfully flickering the flames, despite the windows being closed. The breeze was surprisingly warm, seeing as it was the middle of august; it still carried that fresh, soothing feeling, and some scent... Delia cocked her head to the side, sniffing curiously. Is that... lavender? No, too sweet; it doesn't smell quite like bluebells either. No, rather, it's a... lily? Yes, definitely a lily.
Glancing to the side, she saw Connor's eyes widen at the same time, almost as if he recognised the smell as well. Their eyes met... No words were needed.
"Are we agreed?" Delia nodded in agreement.
And so, it started.
"Oh mighty ancestors." Connor chanted carefully, carefully holding his little girl up as she looked at the altar with wide, wonder-filled eyes. "We ask you to come tonight. We ask you to come, to witness the Vesting of one of your descendants. We ask you to protect her from evil spirits..." Here, the breeze started surrounding them, making the flames flicker ominously, making the baby look around, just a little scared as she let out a tiny whimper. "...and provide her with guidance needed in life. This humble boon we ask of you, our ancestors." At this point, the breeze got even stronger, and it howled, like a wolf, prowling around its prey."And now, from here on forth, this child shall be known as Laelynn." Here, the breeze lunged at the flames, extinguishing them completely. But if one was to look carefully, then the baby's eyes- who was crying hysterically right then, gained a slightly green tint.
RED-GREEN-BLUE-RED-GREEN-BLUE-RED-GREEN-BLUE-RED-GREEN-BLUE-RED-GREEN-BLUE-RED-GREEN-BLUE-
AN: I changed my mind. So here it is, a day early. So, as usual, please review and tell me where I made mistakes.
