September 28
The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the ragged intakes of breath and occasional metallic jitters. Ash's body trembled; Kaiza's gun in hand and rattling against the base of the woman's skull. The weapon that he had handled with the grace of a champion shooter now felt impossibly heavy in his hands. The woman kneeling at his feet stared at the wall across the room. Her hands overlapped her legs as the gun nudged away the brown locks of her hair to the side.
Her body was still — tranquil even — despite the cold end of the barrel grazing against her scalp. There was no shiver in her shoulders; no shallow breaths that indicated that she lived or died by a single flex of Ash's finger. He wanted her to turn and look at him; to validate and vindicate his efforts at trying to piece together her face from memory alone.
At the same time he wanted to be reminded that as good as his memory was, it fell hopelessly short of the genuine article. He wanted to see those warm auburn eyes again, that soft and inviting smile that spoke home to him without ever needing to move. But she wouldn't and words to voice that desire were lost somewhere deep inside him.
"I love you," Delia said calmly, her eyes closed, her body serene.
Ash froze. His blood chilled as it drained from his face.
Don't. Don't say that.
"I love you sweetie." There was no sorrow in her voice, no malice towards her situation.
"Please," was all he could silently mouth to her, choking on the air in his lungs while his vision swam and eyes burned. Fat tears rolled down his face, his breath hissed through his teeth as he desperately gulped air. The gun in his hands clung to her head as if by magnetism, with no amount of tugging moving it.
"No matter what happens, I'm proud of you."
Her dulcet tone radiated a warmth that carried a thousand memories. His traitorous mind found it fitting to extract every heartfelt scene of his childhood with her and throw them into his face in rapid-fire. The images blurred together into a tableau of his childhood, each passing second whittling away at his resolve.
"You're so grown up now." Her voice was loaded with pride. "And I know you're doing your best."
Ash averted his gaze. "No, I'm not. I'm a terrible person mom. I've killed so many people and Pokémon. If you knew…would you still…could you still…" His thumb moved against his will, depressing the safety inch by agonizing inch.
After a seeming eternity, he spoke. "I'm…I'm sorry mom." His voice was raspy and hoarse as though he'd been screaming. No. He had been screaming. He'd been screaming the entire time. "I…I couldn't save you."
"It's okay," Delia whispers. "It's okay." She shushed him gently like she did when he was five.
In that brief frozen moment, he was five again, with dreams of the world that appeared so inviting and full of promise. He was no longer the Chosen One, an aspiring frontier brain or the hardened survivor of a post-apocalyptic Kanto.
"I never expected you to save me. I only hoped you were safe. I hoped you were with friends and that you were eating right. I always worried if you were getting enough sleep and…and if you remembered to change your underwear."
His muscles clenched. A slight resistance. The icy metal digging into his finger as he began to squeeze the trigger.
Why am I doing this?
I need to do this.
Stop! Please stop!
She can't know what I've done! She'll never love me again if she knows!
An inhuman noise left Ash's throat, a bestial modicum of a plea for whoever was in control of his hand.
It's kinder to end it while she loves me. While she can't see me as a monster.
No! NO!
There was a flash and bang that ripped through the air and filled the room. Ash's body recoiled from the noise as if it slapped him in the face. His body teetered at an awkward angle, leaving him staring at the nothingness between him and the ceiling. Like a puppet with its strings cut, he crumpled gradually to the floor. His eyes wide and leaking, his breath weak and raspy.
A part of him made out the sound of her blood splattering across the floor amidst the gunshot. Her body slumped to the floor. A dark red puddle quickly flowed from her head to join the bone fragments that skittered across the hardwood. The gun clunked as it hit the floor. As if by an unspoken deal, Ash regained control of his hands once he relinquished the gun.
Hushed laughter filled the room. Softly at first, but growing in volume with every desperate intake of breath. The weathered wood undulated and twisted like warm wax. Those haunting sounds that screamed in his ears now had a face or faces.
And those screams took the form of grotesque jeering masks in the shape of faces of the cruise ship passengers. To them, Ash's torment was like the finest wine; they drank it in, savoring every last drop of pain they could wring from the scene. Like the crowd in a lynching, they reveled in his punishment. Punishment for their deaths by his hand.
Ash wanted to hate them, but he couldn't. Not when he was the reason they were dead. He wanted it to end; wanted it to all be over. His hands ached from holding the gun so tightly.
The gun! The same instrument he used to take Delia's life could now offer him salvation from this torment! In one movement, he lifted the gun and pressed the muzzle against the base of his jaw. And now all he had to do was make a single finger movement and it would all be over.
A smile graced his lips as he squeezed the trigger. Instead of the satisfying boom that signaled an end to the torment, he got a dull, metallic click. His smile vanished, replaced by a contorted mask of anguish.
"Pathetic."
The word struck him like a slug from Kaiza's pistol, Johanna's revulsion palpable from her end of the room.
"You'd leave my daughter to try and find me again all on her own. What about your promise?" Johanna's voice carried a pleading tone. "She'd die trying to find me.
"But you know that already, don't you? What do you care?" The pleading tone was gone, replaced by a steel-hard accusation. "You never really intended to help her find me again. You're out here playing hero, and trying to find me again isn't as exciting as being here is it. What does it matter to you? What's another death on your hands in the end?"
"I raised you better than that sweetie." Delia's voice sounded again, carving through him like a knife. Her fallen form lifted off the ground as blood trickled from her head, half of her hair now glistening a deeper red. She turned to meet his gaze, but her face was gone. All that stared back at him was a blank white wall. Pink pieces of brain peeked through the hole in her skull and wept bloody tears down the featureless face.
"Momma taught you better than that," she sang, her tone still jovial and smiling despite his renewed screams.
"He's getting worse," Mimey answered back, his hand hovering over the trainer's head. Ash's sheets and pillow were damp with sweat. The convulsions that wracked his sleep gradually grew weaker and weaker as the psychic glow from the mime's palm burned brighter.
"Is there anything else we can do for him?" Samurai asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. The shadows veiled his form, making him appear like an otherworldly apparition come to collect Ash's soul.
"Maybe…maybe if you could get another psychic type to help me? I honestly don't know anymore. It's getting harder and harder to do this. I think his body is rejecting my influence."
"Rejecting?" Samurai frowned, the action hidden by the shadows.
Mimey nodded. "It's the only other explanation I can think of right now."
"How long have you been doing this?"
Mimey paused for a moment and closed his eyes. "Since the night after the fearow plan. It was simple at first when he was only making small noises in his sleep. As the days went on, he started getting louder. Then there were nights where he'd wake up screaming and bawling his eyes out so I tried to... help him using my psychic abilities. It was easy at first, but now it's harder to connect with his aura."
The swordsman stepped out of the shadows. "Does Ash know that you're doing this?"
The psychic Pokémon shook his head. "No. And it's for the best." Mimey let out a breath. "He'd be too proud to let me try. Didn't you ever wonder why he was ever able to function relatively normally during the day?"
Samurai was quiet for some time, thinking back to the weeks he had spent with them. The young trainer seemed perfectly rested for someone who had apparently been spending half his nights screaming and battling invisible demons. "I did find it odd."
"He's not exactly beaming but he can get through most of what's being thrown at him. Except for when he's here." The psychic mime sighed and motioning towards Ash's sleeping form. To everyone else, sleep and their attendant dreams could be a paradise away from the brutal hellscape of Kanto. For Ash, a trek through the ravaged landscape of Kanto would be a refuge from his war-torn land of dreams. It was a bitter and cruel irony.
The swordsman narrowed his eyes as he took a breath. The next question he asked was one mimey had been dreading. "What's going to happen when you can no longer calm him down?"
The barrier Pokémon's hand slid away from his trainer's head and slumped down to his side. Ash's breaths came and went in a steady tempo now, his feverish expression having morphed into serene tranquility. His averted gaze and bowed head said it all.
Agonizing seconds ticked by as the mime remained silent. "Maybe not interfering would be for the best," he said, keeping his gaze averted. "It could be his body's way of telling me that it doesn't want my influence and that he needs to handle this on his own. I'd like if he stayed here to start handling it himself, but seeing as he's leaving in the morning..." The psychic took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I honestly thought making mental barriers in his conscious mind, detours to his thoughts, would be enough. But his subconscious is another matter."
"What's stopping you?" Samurai asked.
"The subconscious mind can be delicate thing. You can't just go in and start changing things. Instead of helping him I could easily drive him insane…or worse. To top it off, creating mental barriers like this was never my forte."
"Have you needed to do this for anyone else?"
The Mr. Mime nodded. "I'll occasionally help Dawn but the others are surprisingly resilient. They each have their own methods of coping with it. Ash is different though. He's lost just as much as the others since this all started, like his home, his town, his dreams, and his…family."
Mimey's eyes shimmered at the word before he took another breath to compose himself and continued.
"The difference is that his mindset was still that of a child before this happened. It was simple and yet still so delicate to drastic changes. Most of his life has been routine: eat, sleep, train and battle with Pokémon. Repeat. Sure, he encountered new regions, new trainers and new Pokémon, but it still fell within the same lines of what he understood. Now, nearly everything he's ever known is gone or different. Any thoughts he has of the future aren't about his next badge or Pokémon battle, but on surviving and his new responsibilities. No one was ready for this, but many had the maturity to mitigate the most of it. Ash never needed to grow up, and as such, after being confronted with so much, so frequently, his sanity is starting to crack. I felt that the barriers would help him work through it but I'm starting to think it's having a negative effect on him" Mimey trailed off.
"How so?"
"Every time I go in to reinforce the mental barrier, the longer I spend in his mind, the more our auras mix. There are nights where I dream about places that I've never been to, done things that I could never do, but that he has. I'm afraid he might be experiencing the same, seeing abstract versions of my memories in his dreams."
"Could you undo it? The barriers?" Samurai half asked, half demanded.
"I could, but it's because of me that his mind hasn't collapsed in the last few weeks. I could slowly undo it so that it's not so jarring for him, but that would take time. He's heading out tomorrow. I'll do what I can. I owe it to him, especially after I…" The mime's voice trailed off abruptly and went silent.
"After you what?"
"Nothing," Mimey replied harshly, then immediately regretted it.
Samurai's eyes were now closed, as if meditating while still standing. He took a deep breath, then three, and spoke once more. "How did Ash's mother die?"
Mimey stiffened at the question, hoping the shadows would mask the reaction. "The others must have told you already. The Fearow attacked Pallet town and killed most of the people there." Like officers telling the widow of a soldier KIA, Mimey made sure to keep his voice even and neutral with his words carefully picked and delivered.
"Killed most, but not all."
Samurai's words were like a hammer against the mime's calm façade. "…What are you getting at?"
Samurai's eyes were open now, and if the psychic didn't know any better, he could've sworn the swordsman's pupils were almost slits. "Tell me the Fearow killed his mother! Tell me that you were unconscious when it happened! How you couldn't stop them from tearing her apart! Why did they spare you and not her!? Ash said he never found her body, so they must have eaten her! Right? If not that, then where was she buried?"
"I don't have to prove anything to you," the psychic growled. Despite his surprise at the iciness of his own voice. "She died that night. What good is it to dwell on that?"
The two had moved from out of the room and were walking down the hallway, the mime slightly ahead of the swordsman. Samurai grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back until their eyes met. "The undampening happened at night but the Fearow only attacked Pallet town when the sun was up. They didn't attack any of the nights they were there, but you said it yourself, Delia Ketchum died that night." Samurai fought to keep his voice neutral, but his voice carried a razor's edge like his katana.
Mimey could feel Samurai's breath on his face, his body now pressed against the hallway. Samurai's unrelenting armored grip clamped onto him like a vice. If the swordsman feared being psychically crushed, he didn't show it. Maybe he knew throwing off the mime's focus would keep him safe.
Or maybe he knew full well of Mimey's psychic powers — and plain didn't care.
"What do you want from me?" The mime's eyes were shimmering now, fighting desperately to keep the tears from leaving.
Samurai's stare softened before his grip loosened, pulling his arm away as he backed away to the other side of the hall. "The truth," he answered quietly, letting silence have its turn in the conversation again.
"You already know what happened. Do you plan on telling the others?"
"No." He then let out the breath he had been holding. "There will come a time when you will need to let him know what truly happened and I will leave that moment up to you. You know the longer you hide this, the harder it will be when you finally do tell him. Until then, your secret will be between the two of us."
"I'm going to need more than just your word," the mime replied, his eyes glowing softly in the darkness.
"What are y—" A soft tickle at the back of his head gave him all he needed to know. The swordsman seemed to teleport in front of the psychic, the deadly blade a hair's width from Mimey's throat. The psychic's lips lifted slightly — not exactly a knowing smile but the precursor to one.
"So that's why you're up this late," Mimey replied. His smile became a smirk. "That explains a lot."
"Not another word, Psychic," the warrior spat, as if his typing were now an insult.
"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine." The mime's demeanor was different now; the blade at his neck did not seem to bother him in the slightest. Samurai slowly slid from him and sheathed his blade. He walked briskly back into the darkness without another look or word.
James watched the towelette wipe across his forearm, the stench of alcohol infiltrating his senses and hauling several unpleasant memories to the forefront of his thoughts. The prickling sting did little to keep his mind off the medical procedure. The Nurse Joy tending him smiled kindly as she prepared the needle with practiced ease. The anxious tremors had long since left her hands now that she'd grown more accustomed to tending to human patients.
James felt the needle nip at him despite the nurse's gentlest efforts and within seconds he was watching his blood flow. He busied his gaze elsewhere, still not entirely comfortable with the sight of blood — especially his own. Sterile white walls and the ever present smell of antiseptic were there to greet him until her voice broke the silence.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Sarah," he answered back evenly, trying not to think of the event as something that was draining his life force but something that would be saving others. Sarah gave him a curt nod, perfectly comfortable at being on first name basis with him. Professionalism had lost a bit of its flair in weeks since the world went crazy. James wasn't the only one that ignored her surname now; everyone had come to know her as just Sarah.
All of them were in this together. The bonds they'd formed through blood, sweat, and tears had no room for surnames. There was however another thought came to her mind; a dark and reoccurring one in the recent weeks: maybe she was Sarah because she was the last survivor of the Joy family.
"Thoughts like that won't help anyone here. My family is massive, so they can't all be gone. This won't be the end of the Joys, especially if Brock keeps…" Her hands absentmindedly reached to touch her face and found it burning and flushed. She turned from James and made her way to the other end of the room, long and deep breaths came and went through her nose, sounding painfully loud in the quiet room.
Thoughts of rebuilding her family were pushed to the back of her mind as she checked the cupboards for the umpteenth time. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, it was the same bottles every time she swung open the door.
"I must be going crazy if I keep expecting something new to show up in there." She mused bitterly. "But then again who isn't these days?"
She had learned the names of nearly all the people in their haven through their ailments. While she cherished the fact that she felt closer to her community in a way that her old life would've made impossible, she wasn't sure she could accept the cost it had taken to get to that point. "No one should ever have to learn people's names by what limb they've had to amputate, what scars and burns they've had to treat," she muttered.
She picked a random bottle from the cupboard and stared at it. After several minutes, the words began to run together. It was the same ritual every day; spend several minutes staring at a bottle as if hoping knowledge would transfer via osmosis.
Sarah was exploring uncharted territories — and she knew it. In her previous life, even in the most dire of cases, these drugs would have been used only on Pokémon. Her training and experience had taught her what to use on Pokémon. But her knowledge was hampered by one critical fact: human beings were not Pokémon. Sure, there were some things that traversed the species barrier: burn heals treated first and second degree burns and antidotes helped counteract poisons and venoms — at least to some degree. But these measures were at best, a stopgap.
"They need a human doctor, not a Pokémon nurse pretending to be one." She sighed, putting the bottle back and closing the cupboard. "But I'm all they've got, so I'll need to figure this all out eventually." The next cupboard she opened was empty — a painful reminder of their dwindling supplies.
"Is that a rash?" James asked innocently from his side of the room. Sarah briefly froze, fighting against the reflex to immediately swing her hand over the hickey by her neck.
"Dammit Brock!" A pink hue blossomed on Sarah's cheeks as she adjusted her outfit to pointlessly hide the fruits of a certain gym leader's amorous actions. She risked a glance at the bluenette, who smiled.
"I'll drain him dry." The sinister thought was immediately veiled by her carefully constructed smile, formed by years of practice. "I'm not sure where I got it," she replied casually. "It might be an allergic reaction to something here. I might not be the only one though. I found several marks on Jessie's body when I did her physical."
It was now Sarah's turn to smirk, leeching off the ex-Rocket's mirth as his smug expression was exchanged for embarrassment. James coughed into his fist and looked away, hoping his periwinkle bangs could hide the scarlet glow on his face. "Yes, well, I'll make sure Jessie is more careful with what she interacts with."
The doorknob jostled suddenly, drawing their attention to the left side of the room. As the door opened Meowth peeked his head through, his face locked in a neutral expression until he met his partner's gaze.
"Meowth, is it time?" James asked.
The cat nodded, making his way into the room and over to the seated ex-Rocket. "I hope there'll be somthin' left of youse when I get back. Ya do this too much an' ya won't have a drop left ta give anyone."
"I'm the only one here that's O-negative and there are people here that need it more than me right now. It's the least I can do while I'm here."
"You could come wit us," Meowth offered.
James shook his head. "I'd only slow you all down. I mean, I didn't help the group too much, did I? Are you sure you have to head with them, Meowth? The others are already starting to understand everything their Pokémon say, why do they need you?" James asked.
Meowth let out a breath of air. "It ain't perfect yet. Dey can understand most of words, but bits an' pieces of what we say is still in our language. I'm taggin' along 'till dey understand it completely. 'Sides, ya don't look like you'll be too lonely witout me. Jessie's here ta keep ya company." The cat winked, evoking a soft giggle from Sarah's end of the room.
"Are you heading out now? I might still be here for a while so..."
"Everyone's sayin' goodbye. Didn't know if youse was gonna make it, so I figured I'd come ta visit."
"It's not goodbye," James calmly replied, his stare a tad more serious. "It's until we meet again. So I'll see you later."
James could see Meowth's eyes shimmer until he dipped his head and stared at his ankles. His paws had curled into tiny fists, trembling slightly at his sides as he sucked in a breath. "You're a big boy now, so ya gotta take care of Jessie while I'm…away." The cat gulped down another mouthful of air.
"Be careful out there, Meowth. You're their translator, their ambassador. Not their fighter," James whispered, fighting back his own onset of tears.
"Okay," Meowth nodded, making his way to the door before stopping to face Sarah. "Take cara'im for me," his voice a strained whisper. Sarah nodded and smiled.
"It might help if I had more medical supplies," she said as if admitting defeat.
Meowth dipped his head to conceal nascent teardrops. "…I'll let da othas know."
A gust of wind went through the crowd, every eye struggled to follow the golden blur that streaked across the field and disappeared within a plume of earth that erupted from the ground. Pikachu and Raichu leapt away from the point of impact, studying the opaque pillar of dust for their opponent's next move. A pair of crimson eyes locked onto them from within the cloud of earth and closed the distance between them before they could land.
Both mice arched their heads back, narrowly avoiding the mass of muscle and fur that rushed over them. The double lariat would've been a complete waste of energy, were it not just the opening for the second attack that came from a pair of silver tails that trailed behind it. Purple platforms flickered beneath the airborne mice, just long enough for them to slam against the psionic surface and fly over the swinging twin Iron Tails.
Two trenches dragged across the field, the iron tails quickly being repurposed as anchors to slow the rushing Electivire. Pikachu and Raichu landed several meters behind him, bolts of lightning bounced between them. The web of lightning served as their private form of communication.
"I'm starting to think that juicing his Motor Drive with our thunderbolts was a bad idea," Raichu's said, eyes never leaving the thunderbeast's back.
"No way, this makes it fair. It's the two of us versus him. Besides, we may have given him too much. It doesn't look like he can handle this much speed," Pikachu countered.
"I say we split up. Divide his attention between the two of us. He wants to separate us so badly, he can have it," Raichu suggested through the lightning, watching the Electivire begin to turn towards them.
The static between them died, Pikachu's only response being a nod before they twirled away from each other. Raichu watched the dirt spray from Pikachu's landing, his body already surging forward the moment his paws found traction.
A crimson tipped tendril skewered through the air, almost carving along the electric mouse's body as he continued to close the distance undeterred by the near-miss. Raichu couldn't help but marvel at the range the thunderbeast wielded with his tails.
Seconds passed and Raichu found himself unable to stop staring at Pikachu's acrobatic feats against the Electivire. The electric mouse flipped and twirled through the air, gracefully dodging the onslaught of fists and tails that speared through the space around him. He made it look effortless as he deflected the blows, using them as platforms to begin his aerial dance anew.
A tinge of remorse colored the edges of that last thought; the knowledge that he would never be that agile made him slightly envious of his previous evo. The feeling was short-lived as a part of his mind was quick to remind him that there were things that even Ash's ace had trouble accomplishing.
Pikachu leapt and twisted in the air, parrying another black tendril with his iron tail in mid spin. He slammed his paws against an approaching knuckle, lifting his body over the rushing fist and flipping onto the Electivire's arm. His tail glowed white once more as he darted off the thunderbeast's forearm, swinging the sharp edge of it at the Electivire's throat.
A satisfying clang reached his ears; relief filled his heart at the sight of his tail being stopped by one of Electivire's own that had come in the nick of time. The thunderbeast gave him a worried look, to which Pikachu risked a communicative bolt to him.
"Please don't misunderstand. Any enemies you face won't be holding back, and neither should I if we're gonna get you ready for when we're gone. You did great blocking that attack. I was really hoping you would. We're still going to try and kill you…kind of. We'd appreciate if you'd keep doing the same for us. You've been doing great so far, and just for future reference, you might want to check your blindspot."
The Electivire's eyes widened as Pikachu flexed his tail and launched himself away from his vicinity. Heeding the mouse's warning he turned and was rewarded to the sight of a column of orange energy heading towards him. Sinking his tails into the ground he launched himself in tandem with his arms and legs and out the Hyper Beam's path. The crowd of electric types encircling them scattered quickly as the beam continued and carved through the terrain before moving into the woods behind them.
"Was that really necessary?" Pikachu sighed, actually voicing his thoughts aloud as he made his way over to his fully evolved partner.
"What? I can't let the others think evolving is completely pointless. You're really making it easy to sell that idea if you keep that agility thing up. Gotta give'em something only my form can offer," Raichu replied through a bolt.
"Fair enough. What say we finish this with the combo?" Pikachu replied in kind.
"Seriously? Here? We only talked about it and I just learned how to pull the move off by myself the other day."
"What better moment than before we head out? We're not gonna get a safer chance than here. Don't worry so much about it. I know we can pull it off."
"Oh really? And how exactly do you know that? We've never actually tried it together."
"Let's just say I went on vacation a long time ago and met a Raichu. He did a decent job of keeping up with me. If he can do it, so can you. Besides, it lets the others know they're not losing too much speed if they evolve."
"I hate you. I hate that you know I'll do it to prove that point." Raichu grunted, tendrils of static pouring from his right cheek as he took his stance.
"I know." Pikachu smirked, his left cheek doing the same.
It wasn't long before they felt their bodies begin to drag towards the other, as if their bolts were hooking onto one another and pulling them closer. Eventually the static between them died as the first part was done; both mice were now cheek to cheek. Despite the back-and-forth exchange, the conversation had only actually lasted less than a second through the bolts. Electivire stared at them now, having recovered from his recent dodge of the Hyper Beam.
An outline of lightning coated Raichu and Pikachu's bodies as they charged toward him, still linked by their cheeks. Bolts bounced between their brows as they ran in perfect unison; a product of their brains communicating directly with one another through the bioelectricity. It was the Electivire's turn to stare at them in awe; the way they ran was not of two separate Pokémon, but of one synchronized entity.
A golden cone of lightning formed around them as they picked up speed, their features stark against their muted colors in the deluge of ions. Electivire recognized the attack immediately and began charging at them, his own cone of lightning forming as he picked up speed as well. The Pichu and Pikachu in the audience began to back away while the Electabuzz and Electivire stood their ground.
Just before impact Electivire's tails struck at open air where the electric mice had been. Raichu and Pikachu had separated at the last second, the golden cones of lightning still enveloping their bodies. Both were on all fours, bodies tense like a coiled spring until they lunged at him from opposite sides. A flash of light filled the air as the blows connected, the intensity of it rivaling the sun and forcing those in the crowd to look away as the resulting shockwave lifted the dirt from the ground.
Several dozen pairs of eyes peered into the settling dust expectantly, dismayed to find no victor standing.
"Dammit. That hurts like a bitch," Raichu groaned, lying on his back.
"You get used to it after a bit," came Pikachu's strained but reassuring voice.
"I don't wanna get used to that. It never hurt like that when you taught it to me."
"That's because you hadn't hit anything to give you the recoil."
"Speaking of which. Hey big guy! You okay?" Raichu called out.
There was a moment of silence that filled the two of them with a shared moment of concern until they heard a cough in the distance. "My arms are numb. Any harder and you might've dislocated them. Aside from that I think the only thing hurting is my pride," the Electivire replied from his own spot on the ground.
"Wanna trade? It only hurts when I breathe." Raichu's pained chuckle issued forth as he struggled to get to his feet. Pikachu did the same, only to have his arms give out several times before he managed a stable footing. The two of them gradually made their way to their fallen sparring partner, having made no move to leave his landing spot with his eyes closed to the world.
"Can you stand?" Pikachu's gaze hovered over the thunderbeast's body.
"I can," Electivire replied. "In fact I could go for another round." Both mice threw each other furtive and nervous glances. "But it's your win regardless. I would've never even made it this far were it not for your intervention. The Iron Tail, the Volt Tackle, the speed from my ability. Had you not taught me those techniques, this battle would've ended much sooner."
"Give yourself some credit. You handled yourself really well considering it was the two of us," Raichu said. "I honestly can't believe you caught our Volt Tackles with your bare hands."
"You might wanna consider using more Light Screens in your style, but aside from that you've grasped all the concepts that we've tried to teach the others. Which is why I want you to be in charge of everyone's training when Raichu and I are away."
"Was that the point in all of this?" the thunderbeast asked.
"That match happened for a bunch of different reasons, but that was part of it, yeah."
The Electivire opened his eyes and turned to face the other final evo. "And you?"
"If Pikachu's okay with it, then I am too. I'm sure you'll do a grea—"
"—Zelkek."
"…What?" the two electric mice asked simultaneously.
"My name. You may both call me Zelkek. Each of you has earned that right. Neither of you need to speak your own, but I hope there will come a day when I may know them," the Electivire replied.
Despite his years among them, Pikachu had yet to give his name to even Squirtle, Ivysaur, or Charizard, and by that same token neither had they. Personal names, a Pokémon's true or first name, was generally given at birth by a family member, and not shared with those outside blood or even close friends. Some Pokémon adopted the names their trainers had given them, donning it as their social name while their personal name remained tucked inside.
Divulging it was a sign of intimacy or great respect and it was different from race to race. Now that Ash could understand Pikachu, the idea of sharing that with him had crossed his mind several times, but the proper moment to do it had yet to arrive. In Raichu and Pikachu's case it had been the first time someone outside their kind had given them their true name.
"Uhh…thanks, Zelkek," Raichu replied, the name feeling alien, almost inappropriate, coming from his mouth.
"Come on, let's go let the others know," Pikachu quickly added, Raichu threw him a grateful look while Zelkek's eyes were still closed.
"How do you think the others will take this news?" Zelkek's tails pressed against the ground and helped him up to his feet.
"I don't think they'll fight it too much after seeing that match. Besides, quite a few of them like you. You're one of the few that actually spends time to learn with the others."
The ring of onlookers had now gathered into a group that awaited them at the edge of the woods, a small group of Zelkek's kind standing a little off to the side.
"So…who was the winner?" one of the Electabuzz asked, keeping his gaze trained on the ground. Zelkek had been quick to explain that the action was not out of disrespect, but out of habit and safety. A few of their race had developed a tendency to rampage at the sight of red. A passing glance would have little effect, but focusing on the color for more than a few seconds, even on a small patch of it, would make them start to lose control. In a cruel twist of irony, the evolution into Electivire came with a pair of striking crimson eyes. With no way of knowing who was afflicted with the condition, it was generally acceptable to avoid direct eye contact.
"Victory goes…to no one," Ash's Pikachu announced happily and was treated to a row of shocked expressions from his own kind. "We tied, and as such, we were hoping you wouldn't mind our decision of leaving him in charge of your training while we were away."
Hushed murmurs went through the crowd; a few disapproving looks peeked out from the throng of uncertain stares.
"I will endeavor to do my best while they are gone. There may be some difficulties and obstacles, but I'm willing to work through them with you, if you'll let me," Zelkek added, making his way to stand beside Pikachu. The looks from the electric mice had softened, while Zelkek's group aimed their grim expressions to the ground.
"We won't be gone too long, but the both of us think all of you will be in good hands with him. Now that the shows over, let's go back to training." Raichu beamed.
The Pikachu and Pichu dispersed, eager to learn and duplicate what they'd seen on the battlefield. Many of the Electivire and Electabuzz left, only a few of them staying behind to follow the others.
"So, what do you think?" Thin lines of lightning jumped off Pikachu's body and onto Zelkek and Raichu.
"I think it they handled it well," Raichu replied through the current.
"I think we just dodged a Bullet Punch," Zelkek said with his own surge of electrons.
"I take your friends don't care for our kind?"
"They find the idea of something of your size being just as strong, if not stronger than them, harder to swallow. They will come around. As you can see, already a few of them have and are willing to learn. I do feel that unveiling this news to them just before your departure may have not been the wisest move."
"It's been something that's we've been considering for a while. We knew that we weren't going to be staying here long, we just didn't expect it to be so soon and as suddenly as yesterday," Raichu replied.
"For what it's worth, I'm honored."
"What say we check and see how the others are doing?" Pikachu offered, to which the other three nodded and separated.
Pikachu had been making his way towards the Light Screen group when he noted Raichu was still following him. "Shouldn't you be checking on the Thunder Punch group?"
"They're fine."
"So they've mastered it?" Pikachu deadpanned, making no effort to hide the skepticism.
"I wouldn't say that, but I'm sure they're making progress." Raichu shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.
Pikachu sighed. "You haven't checked on them at all, have you?"
"That's not true! I totally tried!"
Pikachu pressed his final evo for further details. "And…"
"They're…awful at it. Honestly I think it's a lost cause. Maybe the Electabuzz would be better at teaching them?"
"If I had wanted to have the Electabuzz teach them I would've asked them in the first place," Pikachu grumbled. "It might be easy for you, but it's not easy with this kind of body." Pikachu's paws motioned at himself. "Even I have a hard time pulling it off."
"You?" Raichu scoffed.
"Well…yeah."
"I find that hard to believe. Someone with your skill should have no problem with that technique."
"Hate to burst your bubble, but I have just as much trouble with certain moves as any other Pokémon would."
"But you're not like any other Pokémon." Raichu's tone suddenly lowered, his steps no longer shadowing his pre-evolution. "You know you're not normal, right? You must notice how the others look at you, and I'm not just talking about our kind. Some of the Electivire do it too. It's like they're looking at a Legendary."
"A Legendary? Come on, don't you think that's a little extreme?" Pikachu's brow rose gradually, to which Raichu shook his head.
"Oh, come off it. You can do things that those Electivire can only dream about. The way you can absorb electricity for one, it's not normal. It's something that's expected more out of them or even my form, but your body shouldn't be able to handle it. And that's not all. The amount of energy you can unleash on your own is unprecedented for your size."
"As amazing as you make me out to be, I'm not unbeatable. I've lost plenty of battles in the past," Pikachu replied, hoping to deflate the bubble of worship that was starting to emerge from Raichu.
"It could just be that you've reached the limits of your current form. You've got all this power and potential but your body can't quite handle it. If you ask me, it was never meant to. Your body has its limits. I can't even begin to imagine how powerful you'd be if you were like me."
Pikachu immediately knew where this conversation was heading. "I don't need to evolve," he replied, slightly harsher than he intended.
"Why? Is it cause of the speed thing? That's not a problem for you like it is for me. I lost my chance to learn my speed based moves but you already know all of them. If you evolved you'd only get faster and stronger. I could even help you figure out the differences in your bo—"
Pikachu swiftly interrupted Raichu. "Look, this is great and all but we don't even have a stone to do that. Even if we did, I'm perfectly fine with this form, I don't need to evolve." Tiny tendrils of lightning danced from one hair to the next.
"Whoa, hey. Sorry. I guess I came on too strong. I just…you have all of this power and if you…" Raichu huffed, closing his eyes before speaking again. "What I'm trying to say is that you're everything I ever wanted to be. It's like you're like a male Kazala."
There was a moment of silence as Pikachu digested the words, his eyes eventually widening as if the content had finally dawned on him. At first, Raichu had thought he had said something wrong until Pikachu started laughing. Tension that had once saturated the air now broke apart under his mirth.
"Wow, that brings me back. I haven't heard that name since I was a Pichu. My mom would tell us those stories to pass the time on rainy nights. You don't actually believe those stories, do you?"
"I think there's a bit of truth to the legend." Raichu's tone bordered on defensive. "The oldest Pikachu from the tribe you recruited was telling stories about her last night. Shame we have to head out today, would've liked to have heard more about her." Raichu gave a wistful sigh.
Pikachu sighed and shook his head. "You can't believe everything you hear about her. Pretty much feat ever performed by one of our kind gets her name slapped onto it. In fact, some of the later stories have her doing things only other electric-types can do. It gets pretty unrealistic once you start following it."
"I'm not talking about the later stories. I'm talking about the first ones," Raichu countered. "There's still a lot of truth to those. Apparently she went through three trials to become as powerful as she was. The elder was gonna go over it in the next telling."
"Feel free to stay here if you want, I'm not the one that has to tell Surge though," Pikachu said in a teasing tone.
"How is Ash by the way? You never told me why the red head came by and asked you to help hunt him down," Raichu asked.
Pikachu smirked. "You sure you wanna know?"
"I'm all ears."