Summary—The events leading up to Ash's departure.
Chapter 2:
The Urge
The whole house was in darkness, except one room.
Ash bit the eraser at the end of his pencil self-consciously, trying to think clearly during the middle of the night. He looked at his list again, and then finally wrote down "To be a Pokémon Master". It was a biggie in that column, so he put a star next to it, a really big star.
"Pikachu?" Pikachu asked, looking down at the paper as she munched on the apple he had given her.
He tapped his pencil rapidly, rereading his list. A part of him told him that this was crazy, and he agreed with it.
"I still want to, Pikachu," he sighed. "I mean, I know where Dad's coming from now, but I have to have the chance, right?"
"Pika," she agreed whole-heartedly.
Ash sighed. Going to Pikachu for support was stupid. She'd do whatever he wanted to, so long as she was with him. He bit his bottom lip self-consciously, really wondering if this was the right way to go. To run away, wasn't that a bit extreme? A bit stupid?
It wasn't really all that bad here, Ash thought loyally as he stretched his arms, trying to stifle a yawn. He thought it was going to be a lot worse than what it was with his dad. His dad wasn't really all that bad. Actually, he was kind of fun, provided he wasn't busy with work. Ash remembered when he first saw his father after what, five years? He thought the guy was going to be a dictator. But really, he didn't know how to actually be a father, so he fell into what he did know: being a tough businessman.
Ash went over to his bed, grabbing the list as he stood, and laid down. Pikachu hopped onto his chest and he petted her head absently, dimly remembering he was breaking the number one law of the house. It had taken his awhile to figure out why his father hadn't wanted Pokémon around. His father was from this side of the world, the more technology-driven side. His mom was, well, from Pallet by birth, where Pokémon were a way of life. The Pokémon on this side of the world were more troublesome, getting into things and breaking into homes. A few years back, Ash found out, a village was attacked by a flight of birds. (The reporter didn't know what kind of Pokémon it was, but Ash figured it was a Spearow flock.) A lot of people were injured, some even died. Over here, Pokémon were just a very annoying—and in some cases dangerous—pest. It was a rare person that owned one, and they were usually the first blamed if anything—the daily milk being spilt—went wrong. And it didn't help his father's perspective on Pokémon when a few of them broke into his house and trashed the place. Of course, maybe if he knew that Pikachu was making sure that none of them broke it again . . .
It struck Ash as strange that his parents married, being on the opposite side of the spectrum for everything. His mom had just gotten out of high school—Dad was in the middle of college—and decided to go on a tour this side of the world with some of her friends. She, of course, got lost on the last day, with no idea as to what was going on, and spent almost a whole day trying to find her group. She literally ran into her future husband, causing both of them to tumble down the stairs. His dad said that he'd had a hard time staying mad at her because she was so beautiful.
It turned out that Mom missed her flight back home (Ash found he couldn't be surprised), so his dad said if she waited awhile he could lend her the money to get back. Well, of course one thing led to another, and young love is so blind and impetuous, so it wasn't long before his mom was pregnant with him. (She had been staying with his father for almost a year, seemingly never remembering to ask for a ticket back home.) They got married, out of love and him.
They stayed in Ziganka for a few years, but his mom was homesick for Pallet. His father couldn't just leave his practice, very small back then, and there was no way he could watch Ash, who was into everything by now. And they both agreed that Pallet would probably be a better environment for Ash to grow up in than Ziganka.
So Mrs. Ketchum finally got her ticket back home.
As he had grown up, his father had become a distant memory in his mind, the regular letter or gift, and the even rarer visit. Had his parents been together, Ash probably would have been raised a bit more strictly than what he was, but they hadn't, so he hadn't. Sometime during all of this his father suddenly realized that Ash was growing up, and had wanted to have Ash under his roof for a while. It had been a nasty blow to his mother, but she couldn't turn his father down and be selfish. That wasn't like her at all.
Ash remembered crying under the willow with his mom. She had been supportive of his side, but also of his father's, and of his views of Pokémon. He wished she hadn't, even though now he knew she was telling the truth. Right now Ash dimly remembered falling asleep, his mother's arms still around him protectively. They had always sat at that tree when he was younger, scared or angry at something. At the time, he thought he was dreaming when he heard voices talking. Maybe he had dreamed the entire conversation up.
"I'm not making a very good impression, am I?"
"No, you're not. Li, he doesn't even understand why he can't have Pokémon. Let him keep Pikachu."
"You know I can't, Hanako. You remember how it is over there, and really it's gotten worse. Pokémon are pests or pets under surveillance, and if he has them at the first sign of trouble they'll be blamed. God, I can barely stand the little devils, even after those nature hikes you put me through."
His mother laughed a little. "You were so difficult, but admit it, you learned to like them a bit. And Pikachu's not that bad once she gets to know you."
"That's not the point. It doesn't matter if I don't mind the Pokémon. I'm not the one needing to be convinced. The whole city'll want them killed is a balloon pops on my street. It'll be even worse for him if his favorite one is exterminated, whether by mod or city. You know for a fact he won't agree to have her electric sacs disabled permanently."
"You're right, of course."
"And having Pokémon is terrible, even once having them and liking the sport is looked down on. He's going to have a tough time with kids his own age. You saw how he acted when I pushed the right buttons, and I was being nice, believe it or not." His mother gave a small laugh. "They won't. He'd say it wouldn't matter what they'd say, and that's probably true for him. But what they do will matter. Schools tough, and the actual school won't totally side with us."
"I do get the point."
"And you know how hard it is to be a Master."
"But everyone does need a dream. And look how hard it is to be a successful businessman! You made it. Why shouldn't he try?"
"He needs a decent education to get by in the world."
"Yes. At least high school. I suppose I have let his studies take the backseat."
"See my point. Pokémon will just distract him as well." There was a long pause. "Come on, let's get him inside."
"My legs fell asleep."
"Oh, Hanako," A sigh, and Ash felt himself rising up into strong arms. "He's not that heavy."
"That's because he's your son."
"Nice spin-off, but, no, really, he isn't."
"He travels a lot, high metabolism, I suppose. He'll be growing up really fast now, you know."
They were walking now, and he had shifted his position, groaning slightly. "Pikachu," he murmured.
"He really loves Pokémon."
"Yes, he does. But he has to give them up."
"Switching sides, are we?"
"I'm agreeing."
"Hanako."
"What?"
"Can you get the door?"
"Oh. Okay. His room is just up the stairs. Careful not to bang his head."
"I know, dear. Can you get this door, too? Thanks."
His shoes had been slipped off and then he was set down gently on a bed. A blanket had been laid on him, and he thought he felt his mom kiss his cheek.
"Good night, Pumpkin."
"Sleep well."
In the morning, Ash had awoken to find himself in his bed, but he didn't give any thought to the dream voices until much later. He had been concerned over his impending "doom" and Pikachu. Now, lying on his bed, Ash thought he had been so immature. His dad was a pretty cool guy. They did things together, silly things. Once Ash got over being a pill, that is. For the first week or so Ash sat and sulked, pretending not to be interested in any of the attempts his father made. Most of the time his dad'd had to pull rank to get him to do something. Ash made a small smile at the way he had sat stubbornly in the car for over two hours while his father had gone into the fair grounds. He finally cracked, by at least getting out of the car, when his dad returned with some cotton candy and hot dogs. The way to his heart was probably through his stomach, Ash thought with a grin. Then they went on any ride, although of course he hadn't suggested them, even though Ash wanted to. That had been a really stupid because his dad enjoyed forcing him on very demeaning rides in between the deadly-scary-god-I-could-have-died-let's-do-it-again ones. Ash remembered how hard it had been to pretend not having fun when he was.
His father, of course, saw through his act, as he wasn't nearly as blind about such things as his mom. That didn't mean he was omni-seeing or whatever, though. That was Carmen's job. Ash figured that if Carmen ever found out that Pikachu was here, that would be the point when his dad would just be beginning to suspect.
He sighed, running his hand up Pikachu's ear. She was now asleep. Smiling slightly, he remembered when he had seen his other Pokémon when Brock and Misty came for a visit. They shouldn't have brought the Pokémon, though. It was one area this town would never budge on—he could remember listening to his father's side of the phone call when some of the residents had the nerve to call—and it was the second his dad wouldn't.
The first was grades and school. While his mom had been satisfied that he even did his homework on his training (yes, Ash to still do some kind of homework), his dad wanted A's, in everything. He groaned slightly. Half the classes he barely understood, although it was getting better the longer he stayed at it. His grades averaged at a B, which he thought was pretty good. But B's don't get you anywhere in the world, his father thought, so Ash had to do better. Ash hated those days after a test, waiting for the results in the mail. He'd usually sneaked out of the house the second he saw the school emblem on an envelope and hung around with Pikachu in the back part of the yard. His dad wouldn't go and hunt for him, no matter how upset he was. And then Ash would quickly sneak back into the house at sundown. First he went through the main entrance, but his father was usually sitting in a chair reading something and waiting for his son to go past. Then, to bypass that problem, Ash started to climb up to his window and pretended to be asleep when his father came up. That worked about three times, but, unfortunately, his dad wasn't an idiot. After hiding out a full day, Ash climbed up the wall and hefted himself up the sill. The window had been locked, which should have been his first clue something was up. But, being the dense idiot that he was, Ash tossed out his curiosity, took out his school ID card, undid the latch with much quiet swearing under his breath, and crawled in.
He had two saving graces. One, that Pikachu wasn't with him, it being a nice night and all. The other was that his father had waited until his feet were firmly planted on the floor before he spoke, because, if he hadn't, Ash would have probably fallen out of the window from surprise. After that there wasn't any more climbing through the window to avoid confrontation, because his dad usually waited for him in his room so Ash couldn't slip by.
Even still, with all his faults and beliefs about grades, Ash thought his dad was okay. Don't get him wrong, he liked his mom better. (It was probably because he could get away with just short of murder and cleaning his room under her care.) He just hoped the day never came when he'd have to choose between them.
Ash looked at his list, glad he hadn't turned off his lamp on his desk because it gave him reading light. When had the idea of running away entered his brain, anyway?
It must have came up when he saw his Pokémon again a few weeks before. (Ash figured Brock and Misty must think his father was horrible because of that argument they had heard, and of his outburst at hating it here.) They renewed that urge to go out and become the greatest. Oh, he really wanted to be the best, but is that a really good reason to leave?
He sighed. Still debating on that one.
Reasons not to run away, top of the list, Mom and Dad. It'd really kill them, especially his mom, and Ash knew his parents would both blame his dad instead of him. But if wouldn't really be his dad's fault, but he'd be the scapegoat. The thought made Ash sick. He was not one to let someone else take the fall because of his actions.
Reason two, getting food, money, and shelter. Ash made a face. He had what, three hundred bucks saved up? That wouldn't last long at all, especially if something happened. And you could only pack so much food, although Ash figured he could forage. He had camped out too, but there was always Mom to bail him out if he needed it. She wouldn't be here now.
Reason three, having to hide. Okay, let's face it, if Ash disappeared, his dad would hire out the whole Police Force to find him, and they'd use the only Pokémon which could still perform in a battle, the Growlithes (and they were under lock and key), to find him. And those things are great at tracking. He'd have to disguise himself somehow too, to avoid someone recognizing him from the missing posters.
Reason four, having only Pikachu, no Pokédex. He needed identification to capture Pokémon, legally anyway, thanks to some new law, and Ash didn't have anyone who could give him a Pokédex. No one here did things with Pokémon Training. And then he still only had one Pokémon. Okay, he started out with just Pikachu, but it didn't seem right to continue his journey without the others.
Reason five, traveling alone. Almost ever since he started, Ash had always had someone to travel with, always. Misty, Brock, and Tracey had been with him, occasionally meeting up with Gary. He couldn't travel with other trainers in case they recognized him, and Ash wasn't sure if he could handle the solitude.
(Not actually a reason Ash wrote down but admitted that it would be a problem was the fact that he very easily got lost.)
Okay, reason to run away, to be a Pokémon Master. He really, really, really wanted to be one. Really!
There wasn't much more than that.
Well, maybe there were other reasons that he couldn't think about. Ash always felt like it was a challenge when his father said trying to become a Pokémon Master was impossible. He could show him that it wasn't. Ash could also get away from that stupid school and all that homework. At that Ash made a face. And Ash figured he could make it out in the world. It wouldn't be that hard. He managed to travel through Johto, the Orange Islands, and the Indigo Leagues all right.
Carefully, Ash removed Pikachu from his chest and set her on his pillow. She didn't wake, and he smiled, giving her one last pat before standing up to walk to his bath. Debating about running away wasn't something you could write a list on, he decided as he started to rip it up. You had to have a feeling or one really, really good reason. Once the pieces were small enough, Ash flushed the evidence down the toilet.
He'd have to decide one way or another, he sighed as he walked back towards the bed. He flicked off his lamp and laid down. Ash petted Pikachu again, looking at her peaceful face as she slept in the dim light. Ash smiled a bit, yawning, and started to close his eyes.
How important were Pokémon to him?
How important were his parents?
"I'll decided tomorrow," he murmured, before allowing himself to drift into the realm of unconsciousness.
*****
The thought was slowly pushed outside of Ash's mind over the months, and he didn't think of it often, except in those moments that he enviously read letters from his mom and friends, and sometimes after a round with his father. But the thought didn't linger any longer than a night, but, even still, there were steps Ash went through ever time he felt the impulse.
Obviously he'd have to do something about his appearance. Maybe he could dye his hair or something, make-up maybe. But that'd end up being a pain, and it'd wash out after a while.
He'd need money too, his money, not stealing. Ash really didn't want to sink to that level. Well, he knew his way around the computer, so it shouldn't be too hard to create a new account. As a laugh during one of the urges to leave, Ash had made one. But after he had made it, the screen blinking his new account, the laughter had died from his lips and he wondered why he had done that. Quickly, he exited out and tried to forget he ever did.
Slowly, bits of the pieces would fall into place, but Ash never took the dreaming seriously, not really. It would be crazy to run away, and he knew it. Yet Ash knew how he'd get out of town, which city he'd go to. True there were a few minor problems, like having no Pokédex and only Pikachu, but that just helped him remember that it was just a silly notion that would soon pass.
Still, on some days he'd sit outside with Pikachu in a tree and look at the wild Pokémon about, sometimes while they were causing trouble, he'd feel that quiet longing. And at those times, the urge never left, no matter how much he wanted it to.
*****
"I don't hear any practicing," his father teased, walking into the study, where Ash usually practiced because of the lighting and large windows to look out of.
Ash looked up from behind his stand and smiled innocently, cheeks full of a cheese sandwich he had made himself. Carmen was on personal leave for the next two weeks, so the two men had to fend for themselves. It slightly worried Ash that he was a better cook that his father was. At least he knew how to work a toaster. He swallowed the sandwich, then took a gulp of his milk, pretty much emptying the large glass. "Working on it," Ash informed him, finishing the glass with another deep gulp, then wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. He frowned when he saw that he had eaten up his entire meal and was still hungry.
"Be back in a moment," he said, leaping up and dashing out of the room. Then he doubled back, sticking his head in. "You want anything from the kitchen?"
He though about it. "Juice?"
"Only have grape and orange. I finished off the apple this morning."
Mr. Ketchum made a face very similar to his son's. Apple was his favorite, as well as his son's it appeared. "Orange, then."
Ash nodded. "Anything else?"
"A sala—" He saw his son start to say something and stopped. "Just bring me whatever we have left, all right."
"I think we have some liver left in the back," Ash smiled happily, dashing away.
Mr. Ketchum chuckled slightly as he sat down behind the desk. If Ash kept eating the way he'd been doing as of late, it meant going back to the store again. Jeez, he didn't know boys ate that much, but at least there weren't any leftovers in the kitchen for very long. Shaking his head almost sadly, Mr. Ketchum opened his desk and withdrew his accounts.
Ash peered into the fridge, humming a little tune.
"Pikachu?"
"Wah—AH!" he yelped, surprised, hitting his head on shelf. Rubbing his head, Ash looked down to see his yellow friend smiling up at him. "Pikachu, what are you doing down here?" he hissed.
She looked hurt, cringing. "Chu?"
"Dad's home. Remember, Carmen's on leave," Ash said quickly, looking around wildly, as if expecting his dad to come strolling in. "What are you doing in the house?"
"Pika chu ka ka pikachu pika pika, Pikapi," she complained.
"I know its cold and lonely outside," Ash said softly, opening the bottom shelf. "You want an apple? Last one." Pikachu took it. "We have some ketchup too. You can go and hang out into my room, all right?"
Pikachu nodded, taking the bottle from his trainer. "Pikachu chu?" she asked, setting down her apple and looking at him imploringly.
Ash looked at her sympathetically. "After I finish practicing, okay?"
She agreed. "Pika."
"Just be sure to take the back way up," he sighed, watching as Pikachu hefted up the ketchup bottle and apple, beginning her slow waddle back up the stairs.
"Pi," she replied, although a tad muffled because of her burden.
Ash shook his head sadly, following her with his eyes, then back to the important task of getting some food for himself. One thing about living with him mom was that Ash would eat almost anything, because she could really cook. Things always tasted better if there was a bit of that springy green stuff next to it.
Arms filled with snacks, Ash kicked the door shut and emptied his burden onto the counter, looking at it critically. He figured you could put almost anything between two slices of bread, but it was depressing when he thought of what his mom could have made with this. In either case, he pulled out the last couple slices of bread out of the breadbox and started to swamp them with mustard, then placed on the very last few slices of bologna.
He knew there was a bag of chips and cookies up on the top shelf, where Ken thought no one looked. Everyone pinched them and placed the empty bags back, but Ken never brought it up. Ash figured he just hid them at random, and then forgot about them, he had so many hidden. It was pretty good to open the glove compartment and pull out a bag of candy bars for breakfast. Ash leaped up and carefully reached over the decorative siding, pleased to hear the crinkled of the plastic bags.
"Sandwiches, chips, cookies . . .," he muttered, looking over the meal. "Vegetables, maybe." Lucky there were a few stacks of celery, and Ash got some peanut butter to eat with them. He also got out the container of grapes to eat as well.
Ash hummed as he poured his glass full of milk again, then the glass of juice for his dad. As a last minute idea, he checked the fridge for a soda. Sadly, Ash remembered that he must have finished off the case yesterday.
Never one for thinking about an easier way to do something, Ash started to try and pick everything up at once. By the time he to leave, he was gripping the chip and cookie bags with his teeth, holding the drinks against his body with his left arm while his hand held his sandwich, and with the arm was the peanut butter, celery, and grapes. Then Ash waddled out carefully, not much different than how Pikachu had left.
Thankfully the study wasn't that far from the kitchen, with no stairs to climb up. Once he reached the study doors, Ash pushed the doors open by walking backwards. He grinned feebly, teeth still locked on the bag seams, when his dad looked from his papers, an amused expression on his face.
"Wouldn't it have been easier just to bring the refrigerator in here?"
"Maybe," Ash agreed immediately, letting the forgotten bags fall to the floor. He stepped on the chips before he could stop himself, and the bag popped open. "Oops."
Mr. Ketchum left his papers to help his son, taking away the sandwiches, fruit, and celery. "Do we even have anything left?" he asked absently as he set them down.
Ash set down the glasses and peanut butter down, spilling a bit on the desk. He paid it no noticed, looking at his shirt, which was slightly damp from the liquids. "We have canned things."
"You could have used a tray, you know?" Mr. Ketchum teased lightly, picking up the dropped bags and watching his son examining his shirt.
The young boy blushed slightly, taking up his sandwich and looking at the papers his father had been working on. Columns of numbers—expenses, Ash figured—filled the paper and probably the next one under it as well. He chewed thoughtfully as he eyes strolled over the desk, suddenly spying a paper. A headline spoke of a Persian being destroyed for "clawing" a neighbor. Ash knew the Persian, and the report negated to mention that the Persian had been declawed.
"I thought you weren't supposed to eat when you practice," Mr. Ketchum said, eating a few chips, watching as his son read the article.
"I'm not actually playing yet," he countered with a grin, pushing away the paper. "And I didn't know they allowed greasy fingerprints on office papers?"
"I'm not working on them, am I?" Mr. Ketchum smiled back. He looked at his son critically. "Are you actually going to practice?"
Ash sighed, exasperated. "I will, but I'm hungry," he stated his case absently as he held up the peanut butter jar, trying to get some of the cream on the celery. Very true, he was always hungry, and any food in the house didn't have much of a chance, like the celery he finished.
Mr. Ketchum gave him a small smile as he sat back down, wiping up the spilled liquid with a tissue he had. "I can tell. Just try and get in ten minutes. Of playing," he added as his son finished his sandwich.
Rolling his eyes unceremoniously, Ash picked up his milk and went back to his stand, grabbing the cookies as he went. He sat down, taking another gulp of milk. "I need more—"
His father didn't even look up. "Just practice."
Ash harumphed slightly as he set down the glass. He didn't want to eat the cookies without milk, so that meant he wasn't going to eat them right now. Damn.
He sighed and removed his flute from the stand, flexing his fingers over the keys. Ash really didn't want to play the flute, but Z.P.S. wanted its students to have a very rounded schedule and the flute was the only instrument left that needed another player. Okay, so it wasn't that bad of an instrument, but Ash didn't think it suited his personality. (Where that terminology came from, Ash had no idea.) The flute was so . . .soft, reserved, quiet, and not to mention that he was the only guy who played one. (All right, so there were only two players on the flute, but that's not the point. Don't ponder on the details.) Okay, so he was being instrumentally sexist, but guys shouldn't play the flute, especially him. Why couldn't he play the drums? That didn't look too hard. (Oh, hardy har.)
The flute wasn't that bad, he admitted off-handedly as he ran a quick chromatic scale for warm-up. And after many lessons after school and on Sundays, his only day free from school, he was finally up to the standard of the other students. He had even taken up the challenge of challenging Sasha, the other flutist, so he could be the best. (He was certainly going to be the best at something, even if he didn't like it.) It had been a real blow to her pride when he did beat her, and it had made Ash feel guilty that he had even challenged her. He was even willing to blow his part when she re-challenged him, but she never did, and Ash wasn't stupid—believe it or not—enough to tell her he'd let her be first. So now, ever time he sat down, Sasha looked at him contemptuously. She had been especially biting when it turned out for the Winter Concert that the first flute had an important solo.
Ash played the B-flat major scale, then its corresponding minor, melodic, and harmonic absently. His mom had come up to hear him play, and so they could spend the holidays together as a family, something Ash couldn't even remember doing. It had been a surprise for Ash on his father's part, and it had been a big surprise. Between hunting for his other shoe, tying his "noose" on, and making doubly sure he had his solo, and then worrying about totally blowing it in front of everybody, Ash felt he did not need any added stress. So when he had opened the door while balancing on one foot (he had been placing his once-missing-now-found shoe on), it had nearly tripled his stress seeing his mom standing there in a semi-formal dress. He couldn't blow it now, not with his mom listening in the audience.
Funny, during his Pokémon battles, (except before the first one at the Indigo League, Ash accepted,) he hadn't been that worried. Then the worry seemed to be making up for the lost time. Ash did not want to make a fool of himself, and it didn't help that he always heard Misty's voice saying, "Too late for that." Sasha had been in some sort of twisted glee, sensing his nervousness and worry before they walked out onto the stage. In her mind, she probably figured Ash would bomb it, and the director, Professor Sinistra, would put her back as first flute. Yet, strangely enough, the second he had gotten up on stage, the worry had seemingly disappeared as he got focused. Apparently Ash's mind could only being worried about one thing at a time.
His mom had thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and, although he wouldn't admit it, Ash kind of liked the piece too. He knew it by heart by now, after so many hours of practicing it, so in reality he probably wouldn't have needed to bring his music. Anyway, after the concert, they had gone out to for supper. His dad had originally made reservations at some upscale restaurant, but after glancing at his wife and son's facial expressions looking just out the window, he had driven them to the local burger joint. The family had had a great laugh at all the looks the patrons of the restaurant gave them, coming in wearing their overly formal clothes for a double cheeseburger, shake, and fries, and then when the family had played in the playground.
Ash flew over his practice, not exactly focused. He actually didn't have any new music yet, as they had just finished their concert, but his father wanted him to try and practice daily. Ash did it to humor him for now, although he actually would practice with more seriousness. For now, Ash settled with going over his scales and running through chorales.
Satisfied that he had at least taken the instrument out and played a few tunes, Ash quickly, but efficiently, cleaned the instrument and placed it back in its case. He left the stuff in the study, knowing that he had the week off and wouldn't need it for school. Mr. Ketchum smiled briefly, looking up, as Ash strolled out with the precious bag of cookies.
After making an emergency trip to get more milk (Ash despondently noticed that they were now out after he filled his glass halfway), Ash rushed up the stairs and to his room. "Hey, Pikachu," he called as he shut the door, looking around the room for his yellow friend.
"Chu, Pikapi!" she smiled, coming out from under his covers where she had been hiding.
Ash efficiently plopped down next to her, opening the bag once his stomach was on the material. "Want one?" he smiled. Pikachu took one, then set out to cover it with ketchup. Ash made a face. "No offense, but yuck. Ketchup on chocolate chip?" He shuddered, ducking his cookie in the milk with his fingertips.
"Chu," she replied, chewing on the creation. "Pikachu ka chu chu pika pikachu ka pikachu?"
"Just a reading assignment," Ash replied, his mouth full of cookie. Pikachu looked at him skeptically. "And a couple problems for math." She tilted her ear, and Ash blew his bangs out of his eyes in defeat. "And an essay. Happy?"
Pikachu nodded, pleased. Ash needed a bit of prodding when he had over one day to complete an assignment, and it really was Pikachu that made him get the assignments done right away instead of waiting for the last minute. "Ka chu pikachu, Pikapi."
"Do you even know the meaning of 'vacation'?" Ash sighed rolling over onto his back to grab the book that rested on his dresser. His thumb searched for the bookmark. "I have plenty of time."
"Pikapi," she scolded good-naturedly.
"Well, I do," he grumbled rolling back onto his stomach, although he too was smiling. Digging out another cookie, his eyes strolled over the words. Pikachu crawled under his arm and rested under his chin, looking at the book as well. Occasionally one of them would grab a cookie to chew on.
The sounds and doings around the house went over their heads, although Pikachu removed herself from under Ash's chin to sit by the window and watch the
It was the knocking at Ash's door that snapped them both out of it. Ash jerked his head up from the book and quickly threw a blanket over Pikachu. "Yeah?" he called trying to sound calm as he sat up, placing himself in front of the slightly shaking lump that was Pikachu.
Mr. Ketchum opened the door and stuck his head in. A smile passed over his face, seeing Ash with book in his hands. "Actually doing your homework? I figured you'd wait for the last day."
Ash forced a grin, feeling Pikachu dig into his back. "What's up?"
His father sighed. "I'm going to have to be out all tomorrow, won't get back until late. You gonna be all right?"
"Course, no problem," Ash smiled, seeing that his father was truly apologetic about it. His father had originally planned to work at home while Carmen was on leave and Ash was on vacation.
"That's good. I'll let you get back to your book."
The door was shut, and Pikachu carefully crawled out for under the blanket. "Pikachu," she sighed in relief.
Ash smiled at her as he petted the top of her head reassuringly. "Tell me about it, Pikachu."
*****
"Pikapi!"
Ash groaned, rolling over sleepily. "It's too early, Pikachu," he muttered, opening his eyes a sliver to see that it was still dark outside his window.
Pikachu leaped on his chest heavily, causing him to exhale a deep breath of air. "Pikachu!" she smiled. Ash groaned, grabbing a pillow to cover his head and escape her gaze, and Pikachu shook her head disapprovingly. She didn't shock him though, mostly because she had more or less grown out of that method of getting what she wanted. (Also, if he yelled, it might draw the attention of the other members of the household.) Instead, she leaped off him and turned on his radio.
He pressed the pillow tighter to his head, ignoring the fact that he could barely breathe. In Ash's mind, if he didn't have to get up before the crack of noon he wasn't going to. This was his vacation, dammit, although in the end he did removed the pillow from his face. "By Mew, Pikachu," he sighed, keeping his eyes closed, listening to the radio jockey spew out the day's random news.
There are moments in a person's life where something simple touches them in a way they can't understand and compels them to do something that they otherwise wouldn't otherwise realistically consider. (That's how a lot of people get married.) Sometimes it's another person's actions, a word spoken, a phrase in a book, the very mood of a room, something. But all that is known is that that's the point—so it is believed by the person—when the person's life chooses the path that it will travel down for the rest of the life.
In truth, it was really coincidental that Pikachu turned the radio on at the exact second on the exact station that the song was on and just beginning.
In the morning when you wake up
Open your eyes to a new day,
Look around at the gifts you've got.
You've been so lucky along the way.
Time to finish what you've begun,
Have the faith, you're the one.
Throw your hat high—up to the sun
Now you face the greatest test
Use the lessons that you've learned
Your goal is to be the best
And claim the prize that you've earned
Ever since you were a young man,
You've kept your eye on the master plan
To reach for the top—and touch the sky
It's your destiny
To spread your wings and fly
You can do it if you really try
You can do it if you really try
Spread your wings and learn to fly
You can do it if you really, really try
Keep movin' forward to stay alive
Trust your heart and you'll survive
Follow your dreams, never let them die
It's your destiny
To spread your wings and fly.
You can do it if you really try
You can do it if you really try
Spread your wings and learn to fly
You can do it if you really, really try
As the song went into the flourish ending, Ash blinked and bit his lip slightly, clicking the radio off. Carefully, he pushed himself up and looked out the window. Now he could see a trace of the first ray of light etching over the horizon. How many Pokémon are out past that horizon?
No, don't think that way, Ash ordered abruptly, looking away from the window towards his room "Don't even think about it," Ash muttered.
"Pikachu?" Pikachu asked, setting herself right in front of him and tilting her ear.
He jumped out of the bed and started to pace, mind buzzing. Today would be prefect. His dad was out all day, Carmen was on leave, and Ken was . . .was somewhere. Never a better opportunity.
"This is crazy," Ash muttered, although the barely contained excitement was in his voice.
"Pikapi?" the mouse asked, slightly worried.
Ash whirled around, a smile on his face. "Let's do it, Pikachu, huh?"
She jumped back, startled. "Chu?" she asked tentatively.
He leaned against the bed. "We can do it, don't you think? It wouldn't be that hard. I mean, I think I've got most of the details worked out."
"Pika ka pikachu?" she demanded, not being a psychic Pokémon.
"Let's leave!" Ash laughed, finding humor that she didn't know what he was talking about.
"Pikapi!" she yelled in surprise. She looked at Ash's grin with wide eyes, an excitement in them that she hadn't seen in a long time. Yet, she couldn't let him go off. She couldn't. She'd humor him for a while, but Ash wouldn't actually leave.
He wouldn't. Pikachu was so sure of it.
POKÉDEX
The unevolved form of Parrette, ParriKeet is a friendly and cheery bird that sings a soothing melody to travelers. For homes that have a ParriKeet as a pet, be warned that they can imitate any speech they hear on a regular basis, although they are not conscious, so it is believed, of what they are saying.
Parrette—the Plumed Pokémon:
The evolved form of ParriKeet, Parrette is large and seemingly entirely made of feathers. All that is seen is the beak and feet. It sings quite beautifully and make wonderful pets, provided you don't mind all the feathers and singing at the unknown hour of 5:30 am. More apt to perch than to fly, this bird spends hours (it has to) preening itself. If it gets soaked, it is impossible for the bird to fly.