Illusions of Grandeur

by Kim Hoppy

Whatever happened to Ash while he was Shan? That's what his friends and family want to know, and he's finally going to tell them . . . The sequel/prequel to The Death of Ash Ketchum

10. GipSies, Tramps, and Thieves

Summary—The next League: Pooka. Ash and Co. and a difference of views and morals (haven't they always?), which leads to separation. While Ash confronts Trainers who could almost be seen as hating the League they run, the girls must deal with an annoying guide.

Notes: A Pooka is a sprite, a shape-shifting troublemaker from Scottish (it might be Irish) lore.

AN: I rather like this chapter for the simple point of Gus and Irus' views of Pokémon training. (Well, there's like a paragraph.) Umm, yes, and I know the battle scene sucks, but I didn't know how to work with it.

Chapter 10:

GipSies, Tramps, and Thieves

"Ya know," Miriam smiled sarcastically looking over her shoulder as she ran, saxophone clutched in her hands. "I thought honesty was the best policy?"

Ash glared at her. "Oh, shut up!"

"What?" she asked innocently as the three of them ducked into an alley and over a wall. "We were perfectly honest with them!"

"I think . . . we lost . . . 'em," Shamin gasped, peaking over the ledge.

"How much did ya get?" Miriam asked, leaning against the wall.

Shamin reached into her pockets and pulled out a wad of bills. "Well, I left the guitar there. Too heavy to run with." Her fingers counted the bills. "About three-twenty. Not bad."

"Not bad," Miriam agreed, snapping the money away from the girl and tucking them down her shirt. "That makes 'bout five-eighty even."

Ash had his arms crossed over his chest and glared at them, face red with unspoken anger. "What the Hell was that all about!"

"We were honest with them," Miriam repeated with a smile. "Ya have to admit that."

"I don't have to admit nothing!" Ash yelled.

"Shh!" both the girls hissed, slapping their hands over his big mouth.

"You wanna get us caught?" Shamin demanded, after making sure no one was heading their way.

"Sure!" Ash said loudly. "You—" He raised his hands like he was going to strangle them, trying to sputter out the perfect word that could describe them both to the ultimate. "Thieves!"

"That's right," Miriam smiled. "But we were honest with them!" She wouldn't let go of that point.

"Oh, lay off it! How the Hell were you 'honest'? You stole from them! Did the definition for 'honest' suddenly change!"

"Hey, we said they might get some sleight of hand! And they did!" Miriam laughed.

"We gave them back their wallets," Shamin smiled.

Ash still remained stubborn, anger bubbling higher at their attitudes. "You said we were just gonna rent some instruments and play in the streets for hand-me-outs!"

"Okay, so there I lied," Miriam admitted. Then she shook her head. "Wait, no. I omitted certain details. I didn't say it was gonna be a willin' hand-me-out. I don't lie, see? " She stuck her tongue out and poked his nose.

He narrowed his eyes at her dangerously. "You lied to me."

"Well, it wouldn't have ended that way if that guy hadn't decided to go for his wallet," Shamin stated, brushing the snow off her pants. "I mean, if he hadn't done that and saw all his money was gone—I didn't take the credit cards, mind you—you wouldn't have . . . even . . . found . . out . . ." Her voice ended in a squeak, withering under Ash's angry stare.

"I wouldn't have even found out," Ash repeated lowly. "So you'd do it behind my back. You'd just use me."

"Oh, we did not," Miriam said airily, waving her hand as if to dismiss the notion.

His voice was clipped when he spoke. "Really?"

"Of course not." Shamin nodded her agreement.

He looked at them from under his bangs. "You asked me to come in town to play with you guys." His hands tightened around his flute. "Because you knew I'd draw a semi-decent crowd. Plenty pickings then. You used me."

Miriam shook her head. "Look, Blondie—"

"Don't touch me!" he yelled when she started to drape her arm around him, leaping back. Miriam blinked in shock at the action. "I thought you were my friends!"

"We are!" Shamin exclaimed, coming closer.

Ash shook his head wildly, stepping back as if to escape their presence. "No. Friends don't use one another."

"We didn—" Miriam started.

"Like Hell!" Ash yelled. "You said you never walk into a big pickpocket without having a plan, Miriam! You said that all those damn months ago back in the Tunnels! Oh, you had a plan and don't you dare deny it!" He glared at them. "Just stay away from me," he said lowly. "Stay the Hell away from me."

With that he turned and ran.

Shamin and Miriam stood dumbly watching him go.

"Miriam?" Shamin whispered, looking at the older woman.

Miriam waved her hand again. "Don't worry 'bout it. He'll calm down."

"I don't think so, Miriam! He's really upset!" Shamin panicked.

"He'll calm down," Miriam repeated, slipping out of the saxophone strap. "We'll get him somethin' to eat."

"Are you sure?" Shamin asked, matching pace as they started out.

"Positive."

Shamin nodded, and they were both quiet for a moment.

"We did use him, though," Shamin admitted quietly.

Miriam rolled her eyes. "If we had told him why, he wouldn't have gone through with it."

She looked slightly unconvinced. "I know, but still . . ."

There was response, and the two women walked with a gnawing sense of guilt.

****

Ash wiped the freezing tears savagely from his eyes and he ran into the tree line towards camp, half in a small cave Pyro had found. They lied to him! They were supposed to be friends and they lied to him—They used him!

"Pikachu!" he yelled once he got to the camp, tossing in his sleeping bag and putting his flute rapidly away in his bag. "Pikachu!"

The mouse ran out from the bare thicket. "Pikapi?"

He slung his pack on, wiping his eyes one last time. The glove fibers scratched his cheeks, but he didn't care. "Come on. We're out of here!"

"Pi?" she questioned incredulously. "Chu pika Chupi pi Chuka?"

"We're leaving!" Ash yelled at her. Then he berated himself when Pikachu cringed at his harsh tone. "I'm sorry, Pikachu," he whispered, kneeling down, uncaring as the snow chilled and dampened his knees. Pikachu did not come rushing up into his arms, and Ash bit his lip to keep from crying. He couldn't lose all his friends in one day, could he? "I'm sorry."

Pikachu looked at him, slightly afraid. Something was wrong. He never yelled at her like that. Something had gone wrong in town. Where were the girls? "Chu?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Pikachu. Please forgive me." Ash was praying to Gods that he didn't even know existed that she would. He couldn't lose her . . .

Slowly, Pikachu walked over to him, hearing a note of desperation that rarely was home in Ash's voice. He needed her. A flood of tears literally escaped his eyes and he hugged her tightly, so tight she couldn't breathe, but Pikachu made no complaint.

"If I had lost you as a friend," Ash sobbed quietly into her fur.

Even Pikachu's keen ears couldn't understand all of his murmurs, but she nuzzled him comfortingly nonetheless. "Pikapi . . ."

Ash took a deep, slow breath and wiped his eyes again, looking down at her. "Come on. Time to leave."

She tilted her ears. "Chu?"

"Just . . . because," he said softly, looking away from her and biting his lip. "We have to go." He stood up slowly allowing his feet to get a holding in the snow.

"Chu pika Chupi pi Chuka?"

"They're not coming with us anymore," Ash said curtly.

"Ka?" Pikachu leaped from his arms, not understanding.

"Come on, Pikachu." He started to walk slowly away, glancing worriedly over his shoulder to see if she'd follow.

She didn't move from her spot, and Ash felt like his heart was being ripped out.

"Chupi pi Chuka pikachu pi?"

"You . . . you can stay with them, if you want," Ash said, pausing in his stride and forcing each bitter word from his mouth. He couldn't force her. If she was his friend . . .

Pikachu sat up in surprise. What was he saying? Why was he saying it? "Pi?"

"I can't travel with them anymore, Pikachu," he said softly, shoulders trembling. "I can't. They'd take care of you, I know they will." He turned to look at her, eyes shining with tears he refused to let fall again. "It's your choice, Pikachu. I won't . . . judge you on either choice you make." Please come with me. I don't want to be alone, not now. Please, Pikachu. Please.

She looked at her Trainer in shock. Was he abandoning her? No, abandoning is when the Trainer just takes off, she thought, remembering Charmander's Trainer. No, he was giving her a choice. Her eyes looked at him. She was the one to make the choice, and she saw her choices as plain as day the longer she looked at him—To remain his loyal friend and stay by his side . . . or to betray and abandon him.

She ran up to him, jumping into his arms. Again he hugged her tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. "Thank you."

As they walked, Pikachu still being hugged tightly and nuzzled by Ash, she saw the familiar set of red eyes gleam down at them from the trees. Stealthily he crawled out from the finger-like branches and looked down at her. She waved slightly to say her good-bye.

Pyro looked at her coolly and did not return the gesture in the least.

Pikachu watched him slowly get smaller and smaller. Pyro remained rigid on the branch like a statue, watching them go. Finally she could see no more of the off-white fur through the winter branches. Pikachu looked up at Ash and licked his damp cheek, tasting the salty wetness. She felt his lips quirk into a smile.

"Pikachu . . ."

****

Pyro sat stiffly on his branch, watching the two leave. He was half tempted to follow them, but he couldn't run off like that. Miriam would worry.

He tilted his head. What the hell had happened to make Blondie take off like that? Well, it certainly wasn't something Miriam did. Blondie was just being what he was good at—Stupid.

Even still, part of Pyro admitted the boy was seriously upset about something. And, even though he hated the kid, Pyro worried about him.

Pyro snorted. Not that he'd admit it to anyone else, even Miriam. You could rip out each of his tails one-by-one and he wouldn't say it. You should chop off his paws, his ears, tear out all his teeth, break his back and every other bone in his body, beat him with a club . . .

Yet, to himself, Pyro worried.

"Good luck, you two. Good luck."

He sat on the branch and looked into the mesh of branches as if willing himself to see through their white-iced brown to the travelers. His tails quivered.

****

Ash hit the flint and steel together, severely out of practice in lighting a fire. "Light, damn you," he ordered under his breath, shivering as snow started to fall. His hands alone were already almost frozen even with the gloves after pushing the snow out from under his bag. He hadn't noticed how much he had grown used to Pyro lighting the fire. Man, once upon a time he would have had sparks after the first pass.

Pikachu touched his trembling hand. "Pikapi chu pikachu pika," she said gently.

"Just let me get the fire started," Ash argued quietly. "We need a fire."

She looked at him in a manner that clearly said, "I'll take care of it." "Chu pikachu," Pikachu ordered, pushing him towards his sleeping bag. Ash looked at her hard, but gave in without much complaint because he had no will at the moment. He just wanted lay down and sleep.

"Kapika Pikapi," Pikachu whispered as he curled up into his bag.

Ash smiled weakly. "God night, Pikachu," he replied, closing his eyes.

Pikachu sat for a moment just watching him, then went over to his bag, digging in it until she found the Pokéball she was looking for. Carefully she carried it out and pushed the button to allow the occupant to be release. Cyndaquil yawned.

"I was sleeping," he said off-handedly as he stretched, not really meaning it. It had been a long time since he was out of his Pokéball.

"Sorry," Pikachu smiled. "Could you please light a fire? It's a little cold." She shivered a little as snow piled on both of them.

Cynadquil smiled at her, lighting the meager pile of sticks easily. "That won't keep you warm all night," he said, then melted some snow away so he could lie on the hard ground.

Pikachu nodded, sitting next to him. "I know. I'll get some more wood later."

"You should get tents."

"Yes."

They both were quiet for awhile.

"So, how goes the training?" Cyndaquil asked conversationally.

Pikachu smiled, rolling her eyes. "We're training?"

The fire Pokémon chuckled. "Not battling much, huh?"

"Not here," Pikachu sighed. "They have a shoot-Pokémon-on-sight law or something here."

"Really?"

She nodded. "It's strange. All the Pokémon I've seen are caged and leashed, and all the humans avoid even their owners. No Pokémon Centers, no Nurse Joys, Pokémon professors, TV shows, nothing. They don't even sell Pokémon supplies."

Cyndaquil thought about this. "I'll stay in my Pokéball then, thank you very much." He smiled, looking around at the makeshift camp. "Last-minute?"

Again Pikachu nodded, making circled in the snow. "Something's wrong with Pikapi. He's upset about something."

"What?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. He didn't even say good-bye to Chupi or Chuka."

"The girls you been traveling with?" Cyndaquil dimly recalled a white-haired woman in the background who wouldn't even look at him, but he definitely remembered the green-haired excitable one. She stepped on his tail, for one thing, and kept saying—of course, she was right—that he was cute.

"Yes, them. He doesn't want to talk, and I'm afraid to push the issue too much."

Cyndaquil nodded in slight understanding, staring at the already dwindling fire. "Your fire."

Pikachu nodded. "I'll get some more." And then she ran into the forest.

The fire Pokémon shook his head. She tried, really she did, but Pikachu was being terribly silly. How much wood could she get and how often? She was just a little mouse, and they'd need a big dry log to keep the fire up all night. He decided he wouldn't tell her though, because that would leave her with nothing to do but worry and wonder. It might even make her think her efforts were pointless.

Cyndaquil stood up and yawned, carefully walking over the few feet of snow to Ash and curling up beside him into a tight ball. He'd be dreadfully tired in the morning, but Cyndaquil didn't care at the present while he allowed his back to burst into small flames. It'd be even worse if his Trainer died or got terribly sick from the cold. Cyndaquil rested his head, feeling the snow around him melt.

He noted with satisfaction that his Trainer didn't shiver as much.

****

Shamin fixed her new hat again, flipping back the fluff ball that was at the end. The snow crunched under her new boots, and for once her hands were warm in their new gloves. Oh, god, the stuff was new! The only thing not brand-new was the coat that she had stolen from Ash. Considering everything she had put it through, it was in remarkable condition. Now that was quality.

"Do you think Shan'll like the hat we bought?" she asked Miriam for probably the fifteenth time. If it wasn't the hat, it was the boots. If it wasn't the boots, it was the coat.

The woman rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter if he likes it or not. He's wearin' it." She shivered, wrapping her arms around her body. "I bloody hate winter! Oh, we could have just settled down for this frinkin' season, but no-o-o-o! Have to keep trainin'! What we're gonna do is freeze!" Miriam paused, looking at her boots as she walked. "Although, I will admit, I do look smashin' in a winter ensemble!"

"You know, I don't think he'd have made such a big deal if we told him why we took the money," Shamin said.

"Yes he would have," Miriam corrected. "He would have insisted that we used his money that he's got saved up. I don't know how much it is, even with that win, but no. I will not beg off him. Never."

Shamin looked a Miriam slightly in shock. She must really like Shan. Miriam was 100% guilty of playing men for saps and having them lavish her with gifts, expensive or not. If she didn't want to leech off him, well there was some level of respect and caring that no man had ever gotten before. "Oh. Do you think Pikachu'll like her hat?"

"Ya mean socks," Miriam smiled. Those stupid ears Rodent had were hard to shop for. "They'll keep her bloody ears from fallin' off, and she'll wear 'em too."

"Even if they have Pika-dots." Shamin grinned at the pun.

"Hey, I though they were cute," Miriam said defensively, but with a smile. "And my Pyro's gonna look even cuter with his sweet little jacket, don'tcha think?"

"He'll burn it off."

"No-o. That little thing is expensive, and if he does, I'm gonna give him a crew cut. Then let him brave this Winter Wonderland." She sneered at the words.

"You really hate winter?" Shamin asked incredulously, shifting the bags to kneel down and grab some snow. "I love it. The snow makes everything look so pretty."

"Even frozen corpses," Miriam snarled. "Look, in winter ya get stuff ya can only get in this season. Hypothermia, the flu, colds because it's so cold, frostbite, runny noses, chapped lips, a wonderful tinge of blue."

"You don't get colds because it's cold. They're viruses," Shamin pointed out, molding the snow into a decent-shaped ball.

Miriam rolled her eyes. "I don't care! All I want is a roaring fire, cup of cocoa—which I know I'm not goin' to get—and a warm bed! And ya know somethin'? Bein' in a warm house would certainly be a plus."

Shamin nodded in agreement, tossing away her snowball. "Maybe we can talk Shan into maybe renting rooms during the night from now on."

Miriam snorted. "That wouldn't work, cause then we have to stay close to town." She shivered. "I hope Pyro has a fire goin'."

"He will," Shamin smiled. Miriam had that fox trained for some things.

They chatted easily for a few minutes until they came to their camp. "Hey, Blondie!" Miriam called, looking around the area for the figure. He probably fell asleep because they were so late, but that could be easily remedied.

As per expected, Pyro did have the fire going, and Miriam hugged it while Shamin did something only Shamin did, Miriam supposed.

"Miriam?"

"What?"

The next part was hesitant. "Where's Shan?"

Miriam lifted her head. "What?"

"He's not in there, or his stuff," she said slowly. "He's gone."

Her mind froze for a second. Oh, he couldn't be gone. No, he was probably just . . . hiding or something. Yeah, that was it. Hiding. Oh, get real, Miriam. "Really?"

"Miriam!" Shamin yelled. "He's gone! He left!"

"Calm down!"

"He really left, Miriam! He wasn't just saying that!"

"He never said he was goin' to leave," Miriam said stupidly.

"Miriam!"

"Stop yellin' my name!"

"We have to find him!"

"We will."

Shamin went off on a rant. "He'll freeze and end up as an ice cube or something! Or get hypothermia and end up in the hospital with his toes and fingers and nose and ears falling off!"

"Calm down! It wouldn't—"

"No, it'll be worse! That Bombing Snowman'll get him or something'll eat him!"

"Shamin!"

****

Ash shivered and tried to curl into a tighter ball for warmth. His teeth chatted.

"Cynn?"

"Hmm?" Ash shivered, flipping his eyes open. He was surprised to see Cyndaquil shivering next to him. "Cyndaquil!" he yelled, scooping the fire Pokémon up and holding it close, a blanket of snow flying off him because of his action. It was freezing cold. "Dammit, what are you doing!"

Cyndaquil looked at Ash with reproachful eyes. Pikachu suddenly appeared next to him, also scolding Ash for his outburst.

"I'm sorry," Ash shivered. "I know why. But dammit, you're gonna kill yourself exerting yourself like that. Don't do that, all right?"

Both of the Pokémon merely smiled at him.

"Come on, let's get up. I'll get you something to warm you up. You just stay warm." Ash smiled as the two instantly complied, curling into his sleeping bag.

He trudged through the snow, deeper that what it had been last night. There was no fire, and Ash knew Cyndaquil had probably saved his life in some small—or big—way. He dug through the snow to find his bag, then withdrew some easy, no-cook rations.

His fingers were freezing even through the gloves. He needed new ones, and maybe a hat. He'd buy some soon. And something for Pikachu too.

Carefully Ash sat next to them, looking at his map. He peeled off a glove and flexed the frozen joints, then looked at the map, finger trailing his course. According to his calculations, the Pooka League was near—at least nearer than it was yesterday. Ash shook his head. He didn't want to think about yesterday.

"Okay, guys," he sighed, chewing on a piece of jerky. Pikachu and Cyndaquil looked at him. "If we continue, um, northish"—he turned the map sideways, then upside-down—"we'll get to Pooka in, ahh, eventually." He smiled at them, then sneezed. "Don't worry."

Both Cyndaquil and Pikachu looked at each other.

"We're in trouble, yes?" Cyndaquil whispered, watching Ash wipe his nose on his sleeve.

She didn't deny it. "Yes."

****

Ash wiped his raw nose on his sleeve again. He needed some Kleenex. Major. He sneezed.

"Pikapi?"

"I'm all right," he smiled, petting her head.

Pikachu made a face. He sounded like shit. "Chu pika."

"I'm fine," he sighed, then coughed as he looked at his map. "We're right here."

She shook her head and pointed to another area of the map. "Pi."

"Are you sure?" he asked her skeptically. She nodded. "O-o-okay. We're here, then. That puts up . . . two miles further than what we were." He frowned and looked at her. "Are you sure?" he whined.

"Pika." She looked at him. "Chupi pikachu pi—"

"I don't need Shamin's help!" he yelled hotly. Pikachu cringed. "I don't need help from them, all right! So lay off it!" He crossed his arms and trudged through the snow in a sulk, sniffing and tears biting his eyes. "It's not like they care about me, anyway," he muttered.

"Chu!" Pikachu countered. "Chuka pi Chupi pikachu pika chu pi!"

He sniffed and didn't respond.

"Pikapi!" she scolded.

"Come on. Pooka's not waiting around forever."

Pikachu frowned at him, but made no comment. Yet, as far as she was concerned, Pooka could wait around forever.

****

"Dammit! I wish it hadn't snowed!" Miriam growled, clutching her coat closer as the wind picked up.

"Is Pyro sure this is the right way?" Shamin asked, looking at the map.

"Of course he is."

"But we're headed the wrong way!"

"This is Blondie we're tailin'," Miriam reminded gently.

Shamin nodded her agreement. "Do you think he's all right?"

"How much trouble can he get into in the middle of nowhere?" Miriam sighed. "Wait, don't answer that. Just don't."

"But he doesn't even have a decent coat or anything," Shamin pointed out. "We should have told him."

"Would ya give it up!" Miriam exclaimed. "Dammit, I'm cold, freezin', probably sick, lost, and bein' hassled! Just shut up, all right!"

Shamin closed her mouth, looking at her feet as she walked. Her gaze kept shifting back to Miriam, and she swallowed. "Are you sure he's all right?" she asked in a rush.

Miriam clutched her head in exasperation. Oh, if Blondie wasn't already dead, she was going to kill him for making her put up with this crap.

****

"I wish I had some skis," Ash said through his stuffed up nose. "I wish I knew how to ski. Just think how fast we'd be traveling, huh, Pika-choo! Sorry."

Pikachu wiped her face, glaring at his apologetic face. "Kapi," she muttered.

"I said sniff sorry," he apologized again. He straightened out the map. "Where are we now?"

She blinked at the map, trying to calculate. There were seriously lucky that she had sat on Shamin's shoulder, and hence picked up a bit of ability in reading a map because Shamin insisted on speaking to herself. Pikachu knew that if she didn't know the tiny bit of map reading she did, they would probably have no chance of surviving the winter. Yet Pikachu was very aware that her very minimum map reading ability couldn't save them forever. Even now she was having trouble figuring out where they were.

She bit her lip, scanning the map. It would be easier if she understood what was written. The tiny dots barely helped now. "Pi," she pointed, guessing greater with each passing try.

Ash smiled. "We're getting closer, then." He didn't even doubt her judgement.

Pikachu forced a smile and gripped his shoulder as he trudged through the deep—past his knees—snow as they drifted past the bridge of trees to a meadow plain. She bet his feet were freezing. She knew the rest of him was. His clutched his arms, and his nose, ears, and cheeks were almost as red as her cheeks. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his coat, and his collar was up.

Pikachu wondered where they were going to camp. Ash was going to die if he kept up like this. If only humans could go in Pokéballs.

"You think we'll be there in a hour?" Ash asked hopefully, showing her the map again. Pikachu shrugged. "Well, yeah, I guess you can't judge. The snow and cold'll slow me up." He grinned, a bit off-balanced, and walked on, folding the map over. "Damn, are you cold too?"

Pikachu gave him the Look.

"Stupid question, huh?" he smiled weakly. "I wish forests had snow-plows, don't you? Or cabins? How come Hansel and Gretel, who found a gingerbread cabin in the middle of nowhere; or that Goldilocks, who got a cabin, warm porridge, and a bed in the middle of nowhere; and Snow White, who got a cabin with seven men in there—I don't want to even go into areas that Miriam would certainly hint at—in the middle of nowhere; and Red Riding Hood, whose Grandma lived in the middle of nowhere . . . How come they get to find cabins in the middle of nowhere? Is that really fair? I mean, those cabins got them practically killed, but we could use one, ya know?" He wiped his nose again. "Why do they get all the luck?"

"Pikapi, chu pikachu pika," she said gently.

"I know they're fairy tales," he snapped, but smiling at her tease. "But they really lie. I mean, they're telling kids that if they get lost in the forest, there will be a cabin to crash for the night. Dammit, I believed that, and do I see a cabin when I'm in some forest? No-o-o." He looked at Pikachu's shocked expression. "I didn't really believe there'd be cabin out here, Pikachu."

She sagged with relief. "Chu."

"Ha ha." He rubbed his arms. "You know, if you're cold, you can go in my coat."

She shook her head. If he was going to freeze, she was going to freeze with him. "Chu, Pikapi. Pikachu pi chu."

He nuzzled his head against her and sighed, shaking his head. "Okay." They walked slowly, and Ash looked at the map, and then the tree line that they left a while ago. He licked his chapped lips in thought, tracing the map and glancing at the trees. "If I read this right, we're—"

Crack!

He jerked to a stop and looked down at his feet. "Umm . . .?" He croaked, looking back at the map. "We're, umm, on a river, Pikachu."

Pikachu's eyes were wide. How cold would that water be?

Ash took a deep breath. "Okay, Pikachu, don't worry. I'm sure we're okay. I mean, we made it this far, and look at how much snow's on the ice. It's frozen. Right?" Pikachu didn't budge. Ash slowly moved forward. "I mean, it's been cold a long time, so the river probably froze over, ya know? It has been cold a while, right? And the snow on the ice should like make the river colder, right?" He walked slower, like he was on a tightrope. "I mean, snow shouldn't act like a warm insulating blanket, even though it probably is!" His voice was getting higher with each word, because he knew very well that things were going downhill.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying not to worry that he was adding weight to the ice. "Calm down, calm down, calm down," he ordered himself. "Just . . . walk."

"Pikapi," Pikachu moaned, pressing herself against him. Swimming wasn't her strong point.

"Don't worry, Pikachu. I won't let you get hurt," Ash vowed, taking her off his shoulder to clutch her in his arms. He should have been paying attention! If Pikachu drowned, it'd be all his fault! It was his fault! What kind of Trainer was he if he put his Pokémon and himself in this kind of danger! Well, if they went down, Pikachu wasn't going with him.

Ever so carefully, he walked. Ash stopped looking at his feet, but at the nearing line of trees. He had to be, what, halfway there? Three-fourths? He struggled to ignore the games his mind played, the endless stream of cracks he heard.

Damn, he hoped it was his mind playing games with him.

It was slow makings, but Ash felt himself growing surer, because he forced himself. He wasn't going to fall. Nope, nope, nope. Yet his muscles remained tense. Pikachu was barely breathing, and Ash realized it was the same with him.

It happened so fast that Ash didn't even realize it. But, suddenly, he was going down with the sickening crack! He didn't even think, but tossed Pikachu as he fell with a yell into the freezing depths.

Pikachu rolled, sinking to the bottom of the snow. Wildly she jumped up and tried to run back to the hole, trying to see over the snow. Finally she reached it—almost fell in—and peered into the black water. The ice wasn't even a foot thick here!

"Pikapi!" she yelled, frantic. "PIKAPI!" Bubbles popped against her nose, the ice chucks floated. One was so big that Pikachu was afraid it'd hide this exit from Ash. What could she do? She tried to push it down and under the other ice, and she saw something float up, Ash's bag. Pikachu's mind sparked hope.

Ash's bag was floating just out of reach, but Pikachu used her tail to bring it closer. Without a thought, she dug in the bag and searched for a Pokéball, any Pokéball that housed a water or ice Pokémon! (Oh, where was a Lapras when you needed one!) Didn't Ash have some kind of water Pokémon? He had to! He had to! He did! Totodile!

Finally she found him and released the crocodile.

"Toto!" the blue Pokémon smiled, doing a small jig.

Pikachu was too stressed for pleasantries. "Pikapi fell through the ice! You have to find him!"

Panic crossed Totodile's face, and he dived without a second word or explanation, forgetting to make a show of it.

Pikachu waited as the seconds ticked by, worried. Ash would almost be out of air! He could get what was it that Miriam said? Hypothermia? Pneumonia? Something really bad!

"Hurry, Totodile!" she yelled, crying. Why oh why couldn't she be a water Pokémon? What good was an electric rat! She was useless! Useless! She collapsed, crying as the minutes ticked up.

Suddenly the water splashed up. Totodile, Ash's jacket firmly in his jaws, slipped onto the ice, trying to pull the unconscious Trainer out of the water. Ice was already forming on them. Pikachu grabbed Ash as well and tried to help, but he was too heavy.

"Keep holding on!" She ran back to the bag and dug again, tapping a ball. The Pokémon couldn't be too heavy, or they'd all go through the ice.

"Saur!" Bulbsaur called.

"Help us, Bulbasaur!" Pikachu pleaded, gripping Ash's jacket and trying to help Totodile.

Like Totodile, Bulbasaur wasted no time in sending out his vine whips and picking Ash out of the water. But then he looked at the others. Where should he put him? Not on the snow!

Pikachu looked panicked. "Head for those trees!" she yelled.

They all nodded and tried to run through the snow, but they were all very short Pokémon. Totodile was hindered by Ash's bag that he had clenched in his teeth. Pikachu looked at Ash, who hung limply from Bulbasaur's vines. He looked blue! The only positive side was that he was breathing, thanks to Bulbasaur's squeezing vines. They acted like that Heimlich maneuver.

The ice cracked under them, but they ran anyway, cutting the trails through the snow. Finally they reached a tree, and then another, and another.

"Get a fire Pokémon out!" Bulbasaur ordered, trying to push the snow away so he could set Ash down. Already long minutes had passed, and Bulbasaur could feel the clothes turning to ice.

Pikachu nodded and quickly released the still tired Cyndaquil. "Please, try and light a fire!" she pleaded. "Pikapi fell through the ice!"

Cyndaquil made no objection, erupting his back into the tiny flames, what he could only manage now, and snuggling close to Ash.

"Totodile, get the bag!" Bulbasaur ordered. "The sleeping bag!"

Totodile cringed at the tone, but got the bag out. "It's wet!"

"Get it next to Cyndaquil and try to ring it out!" Pikachu said, pulling off Pikachu's shoe.

"What are you doing!" Cyndaquil yelled, jumping up. "He'll freeze!"

"He can't stay in wet clothes! He'll get sicker than what he will without them!"

"She's right!" Bulbasaur agreed, trying to peeling off the coat. "Get that sleeping bag over here!"

Totodile dragged it over. "It's still a little wet, but only on the outside," he panted. "It was rolled well."

Bulbasaur grunted his annoyance and carried Ash's almost naked body onto the bag, and Pikachu quickly zipped it up to his neck. He shivered, the slow, irregular breaths in clouds. "He's still cold."

"We're going to have to all huddle with him, all of us!" Cyndaquil stated, the usually laid-back, calm Pokémon taking charge of matters as he moved next to his Trainer's head. "Get all Pokémon with fur and get in the sleeping bag with him. Transfer of body heat. And get his head in the bag. Humans lose 10% of their body heat that way! Come on, come on, get moving!"

They all nodded, shifting through the Pokéballs and looking at Ash with worry.

****

Pyro sniffed the air and perked his ears. Damn, they still had a good few miles on them, and dark would be falling soon. He growled in annoyance. Something was going wrong, he knew it. Blondie or Rodent or the both of them were in trouble, even more so than when they had probably rolled down that hill ten minutes back.

He jumped down from his branch, instantly vanishing in the snow. He wished he was bigger, damn, he really did. Carefully Pyro stood up on his toes to look over the snow, then nimbly jumped up. He could walk on the snow, provided he walked lightly. Well, lightly was his middle name.

He sniffed the snow again. Stupid Blondie. He was going to get them all killed with this stupid attitude of his. Miriam and Shamin were only looking out for everyone's well being. Idiot. You're supposed to sit down and talk out your problems, not run off. Running away doesn't solve problems.

Ahh, but therein is the problem, Pyro mused. Here he was traveling with runaways. It's the only thing they know how to do, run away from their problems. Even Miriam was guilty of that. Pyro sighed. Sometimes he thought he was the only one with any sense at all. Even Rodent had mental problems with her loyalty and crap.

They're all suicidal, he sighed, leaping over a log. Out here in the dead of Winter. They don't know anything about real Winter. This is mild.

His fur trembled. Oh yes, Pyro had seen a lot of Winters, many a lot more harsher than this, the kind where you burrow yourself in a log and starve for three weeks and pray to Mew that you'll survive to see the Spring while your ribs slowly start to appear, your ears and paws stop having any feeling, you can barely move . . . The cold now was nothing compared to what might come, and Pyro knew it. Oh, he knew it all right.

The snow started to fall . . .

****

Pikachu looked up at the dark sky, breathing the cool fresh air. The snow still falling. A blanket of snow now rested on the mound that was them, and it was getting higher. Well, at least it was semi-cozy with everyone in the sleeping bag. Warm, yes, but a wee bit cramp.

"Could you please move your bulb off my leg!" Cyndaquil snapped.

Bulbasaur glared down, but the darkness hid his expression. "And where should I go, huh?"

"Hey, get off my leaf, you bit lug!" Chitorika yelped.

"Why you calling a big lug, you perfume factory!"

"I told you not to step on me!"

"Watch the flames!"

"You watch where you're whipping that leaf!"

"Come on guys. Be nice."

"SHUT UP!"

Totodile cringed and curled into a tinier ball near his end of the sleeping bag. "Sorry."

Pikachu crawled back it, closing the bag to keep the cold out. She touched Ash's cheek. He still felt cold to her. If only they could fit more Pokémon in the bag, but even a tiny Pokémon would make the conditions even worse. She bit her lip in worry, half listening to the others continue their pointless arguing. Part of her was glad she decided to stay near the opening. Her tail and ears would have only caused an even bigger argument. Still, she sighed, wishing they would just shut up.

She wouldn't tell them to, because then they'd turn on her. Or they'd listen to her. The latter would be worse; the silence, everyone trying to breathe quietly to hear Pikapi's weak breathing and coughs . . . She shuddered at the image her imagination played.

"I told you—Hey, something's on my back!" Bulbasaur yelped.

"What?" Totodile asked.

"I said something's on my back," Bulbasaur said in his not-so-patient voice.

"Are you sure?" Pikachu asked.

"I should know!"

"Go see what it is," Cyndaquil sighed. "It's probably nothing."

"Or an attacker!" Chitorika yelled.

"Watch the leaf! It's not an attacker!" Cyndaquil snapped.

Pikachu shook her head and slipped under the cover and out into the snow. She shivered and looked around, seeing nothing. Chitorika peeked out as well, ready for battle. "Anything?"

"I don't see anything," Pikachu said carefully, still looking around and leaping onto the mound.

Chitorika frowned, disappointed, but started to circle the perimeter just to make sure. Suddenly a pile of snow hit her on the head. "What's the big idea!"

Pikachu peeked down. "What?"

"Dropping that snow on me!"

"I didn't drop any snow on you," Pikachu said, looking up into the tree. "Some probably fell from the branch overhead."

The leaf Pokémon looked up, and nodded. "Right. Sorry."

"Forget about it," Pikachu sighed, looking back up and scanning the area around them. There weren't any footprints around the mound, but there was some on the mound. Something had been up here. Something small. But what in the world could get on and off the mound without leaving any other trace?

"Seeee!"

"Ahh!"

Pikachu jerked her head up to see Chitorika rolling in the snow with a black blob. "Chitorika!" she yelled, rushing down and over to help her friend.

Chitorika righted herself with a huff and sent a set of razor-leaves at the creature. It nimbly jumped aside with a laugh and tackled Chitorika again.

"Get away from her!" Pikachu ordered, diving into the heap as well.

"What's going on!" Bulbasaur yelled, escaping the bag with Cyndaquil and Totodile.

"Get it off me!" Chitorika yelled, swinging her leaf—smacking Pikachu more that the creature—as the black blob circled them.

"Ow! Owowowowow!" Pikachu yelped.

"You leave them alone!" Totodile ordered hotly.

Bulbasaur went a step further, catching the creature with his vine whips. "What are you doing?"

The almost totally fur creature giggled. "I caught! I caught! I caught! Yeah!"

"Yea, you're caught!" Chitorika sneered as Bulbasaur brought the creature back down.

"Play agin?"

The Pokémon looked at each other. "Pardon?" Cyndaquil asked.

The creature wiggled out of Bulbasaur's vines and looked at them with green eyes. "Play agin?"

"You're . . . playing?" Totodile asked. "By yourself?" Everyone sort of looked at him, as he danced by himself.

The creature laughed, flicking its long arched tail around. "No, silly. With 'em!" The creature pointed up into the trees, and suddenly the Pokémon could see more green eyes staring down at them from the branches, almost a hundred pair. They huddled together, prepared to be attacked.

"We can't play," Pikachu stated. "Our Trainer is sick."

The Pokémon tilted its head. "Trainer? What that?"

Pikachu looked at the others, trying to find the right words to explain what a Trainer was. "A friend. He fell through the ice."

A chattering suddenly went through the trees, and the creature on the ground froze. "Into water?" They nodded, and the creature shivered, running its hands over its head. A glitter of gold flashed. "Cold. Is all right?"

Pikachu shook her head. "No, he's not."

"Do you know any place warm where we could spend the night?" Cyndaquil asked. "Or anyone who could help?"

The creature was quiet, thinking. A murmur went up through the trees. "The Keepers, the Keepers, the Keepers."

"Who are 'the Keepers'?" Bulbasaur asked.

"They watch forest," the creature said slowly. It seemed almost afraid now.

"Would they help?" Pikachu asked, barely daring to hope.

"Why . . . Trainer here?"

"He wants to compete in the Pooka League."

"Dangerous?"

"Oh, no. Pikapi isn't dangerous."

"Stupid, yes," Cyndaquil put in.

"Stubborn," Chitorika added.

"Lazy," Bulbasaur sighed.

"Dedicated," Totodile stated.

Pikachu glared at the others. "Pikapi is nice. He won't hurt anyone. Trust me."

For a few moments, the furry creature didn't move. "May see?"

They looked at each other. "I don't see why not," Totodile said slowly, then waited for onslaught of objections. He was surprised when none came up.

Cyndaquil nodded. "Yes. It might help."

Pikachu waved towards the creature, then went over to the mound, drawing back the cover to show Ash's face and bare shoulders. The snow piled on the sides.

The creature slowly edged closer, nose bobbing and looking at the other larger Pokémon carefully. They let it pass, and it stopped next to Ash's cheek. "Not breathe?"

Pikachu looked closer at Ash, trying to see the tiny cloud that should be forming. She gulped. "He . . . is. Please help," she pleaded, covering Ash back up.

The creature backed up, trembling. "I come back. No promise though," it whispered, blinking its enormous eyes. "Stay." And suddenly it vanished, leaving only a trail of its tiny footprints in the snow. A chitter went through the trees, of awe and fear.

****

Miriam and Shamin huddled in their sleeping bags, Miriam holding Pyro. They weren't in a cave, and both were shivering.

"Are ya seein' now why I hate Winter?" Miriam sighed.

Shamin made no response, studying at the map.

"What's so interestin'?"

"Pooka."

Miriam yawned. "Pardon?"

She raised her head to look at the woman. "I've been reading this map and, from what I can, there is no one place to go."

"Huh?"

Shamin sighed, tracing a circle on the map. "Unless the League was seriously spelled out on which way to go once you got into the forest, I'm not quite sure what to do once we cross the river and get into the Pooka forest."

Oh." Miriam rocked back and forth a bit. "Isn't Pooka a dog or somethin'?"

"Don't know. I wonder what the League deals with? I didn't even get to see Ratwa, and Shan won't tell me anything." She shook her head. "Anyway, I think a Pooka is a myth."

Miriam scoffed a laugh. "What makes ya say that, considerin' we're tryin' to find the place?"

"Not the place, but the creature in general." She tilted the map and squinted at the drawing. "See, like Dilly was a Ratwa for the Ratwa League. These pictures have Pookas for the Pooka League. I think they were supposed to be tricksters."

"And how do ya know this?"

"They're putting a whoopee cushion under someone in this drawing."

Miriam glared at her.

"Really!"

"Just shut up."

Shamin complied for about seven seconds. "Do you think Shan's all right? I mean, the map isn't telling us exactly how to get there, and you know how easily he gets lost. You think he's all right?"

Miriam pretended she hadn't heard and didn't answer, petting Pyro. Even he had tensed at Shamin's question. He knew what happened out in Winter.

Damn, I hope he is.

****

Ash felt himself shivering, chilled. Part of him wanted to open his eyes and figure out where he was, but he was so tired. He moaned, feeling like his head wasn't even attached to his neck.

"Feeling better?" a voice whispered. Ash felt something tug on his hair, and then a hand rest on his forehead. "Still a little cold." The hand ran down the side of his face.

He might have fallen back asleep, he wasn't sure, but his mind slowly started to drift back into consciousness. Ash tried to pry his eyes open and attempted to blink the blurry ceiling area into focus. It was dark with dancing shadows on the surface.

It was hard to breathe, like something heavy was on his chest. He coughed and tried to sit up, but it seemed like too much effort. Ash turned his head, then ran into a mass of purple-violet. "Wah?" he muttered, attempting to push himself away.

The blob moved, and suddenly a pair of huge violet eye blinked awake, staring at his face.

It took Ash a moment for it to sink in, then he blinked back. "Who?"

The lips smiled crookedly, and the hair was sent back with a swing of the hand. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"O-okay," he replied, watching as the slender hand was set on his own head, similar to when his mother took his temperature. "Who are you?"

The girl giggled, coming closer. "You're still a bit cold," she whispered. Her fingers twirled around his hair and tugged hard.

"Oww! Stop that . . ." He trailed off, feeling something brush up against his leg. Suddenly he looked at the girl, eyes wide. "Could you, like back up?"

She giggled again, slipping her hand under the blanket—they seemed to be in a double sleeping bag—and onto his chest. Ash blinked, suddenly realized that he was just wearing a pair of boxers that were suddenly very uncomfortable. And she, who ever she was, didn't seem to be wearing anything. He had gotten a peek—accidentally!—when she had moved closer.

"Umm, please, um . . ." he squeaked, trying to push himself away. It was suddenly very hot under this bag. "I'm fine."

Her smile tilted sideways as she pushed herself up. Ash gulped and tried to avert his eyes to more appropriate places. "Ash," she smiled, shaking her head.

"How do you know my name?"

"I was informed," she smiled, running a hand over his chest and side of his face. "You've been out over a day. You almost died from the cold."

"Oh." He tried to push his head through the pillow and floor as she lowered her head.

"Yes," she whispered. "Your Pokémon helped save you, and you were brought here. But you needed to warm up." She smiled, blinking her eyes slowly.

He gulped. "I think . . . I'm warm enough." He could feel her breath on him.

She twirled her hand into his hair and yanked hard, seemingly enjoying his pain and embarrassment. "Hmm, really? Humans should be around 98.6 degrees. You're a few degrees under." And slowly she kissed him deeply.

It seemed like an eternity—and yet not nearly long enough—before her lips left his. "There," she murmured. "Now you're warm."

He stared at her mutely.

"I'll have to tell the others your better now," she sighed, sounding a tad disappointed.

Questions were lined up in Ash's mind, but his mouth wouldn't allow sounds to come out. His skin was alive, feeling her touch. His head was dizzy.

The girl leaned over and down and whispered in his ear, "Go to sleep, Ash. Pooka League is very demanding."

"Pooka? I'm he—" Her finger stopped his lips.

"Shh. Sleep." The girl lied down next to him, running her hand over his chest.

Ash gulped. And how, pray tell, was he supposed to fall asleep now?

And yet, surprisingly, Ash felt himself slowly drift asleep as the girl hummed.

****

"But Miriam, it's so cute!" Shamin cried, clutching Pyro.

"No!" Miriam sneezed, throwing back her arm to chuck a rock at the creature in the tree. "That frinkin' little rodent stole my stuff!"

"It was a sock!"

"My sock! Hey, don't ya put that on yar tail! No! No!" Miriam gritted her teeth and the Pokémon purposely disobeyed the order. "Ya'd better not have fleas!" She glared at Shamin. "Let him go! That rodent dies!"

"Miriam! No! It's just playing!" Shamin tried to keep hold of the squirming Pyro. "Stop scratching me, Pyro!"

Miriam glared up in the tree, sniffing. Damn, she was getting a cold. "I hate Pokémon!"

"NINE!"

"Ya know what I mean! Ya come down here right now!"

"See-see gippy!"

"Don't ya bad mouth me, ya vile thief!"

Shamin blinked at Miriam. "You understood it?"

She snorted. "No. But I know. Come down here!" She threw the rock up, but the creature dodged it easily. "I am not leavin' until I get my sock back!"

"Miriam! What about Shan!"

"My sock is more important than him!"

Shamin stood appalled. "Miriam!"

"Well, fine, but right now my sock's more important than him! GIVE IT BACK! Those socks costed me twenty bucks! And I paid for those!"

"Really?" Shamin almost dropped Pyro from her surprise, and the fox himself looked at his Mistress in a dumb shock.

Miriam whirled on her, cheeks red. "Yes, really! Ya really think I wanted Blondie harpin' to me about stealin' socks?! I do have some standards! What, ya didn't think I knew how to pay for somethin'?"

"Umm, not really," Shamin squeaked. Suddenly, she blinked, looking past Miriam. "Um, socks come in pairs right?"

"Yes! One for each foot!"

"W-well, you kinda got a pair of socks in the trees now. And some other things."

Miriam's eyes went wide, and she whirled, seeing most of her clothing up in the tree now. "How the Hell? Is my pack open!" She reached over her back and felt the lid was still closed. "Give those back!"

Shamin frowned, shifting Pyro to grabbed her Pokédex and point it at the items of clothing. "Gip-Si, the S-qu-irrle Po-ké-mon. No val-id in-for-ma-tion."

"What the Hell does that mean!" Miriam yelled.

Shamin shrugged and pushed a button, the one the she understood to give more information. Well, every other time she pushed it, she ended up knowing more than she wanted. "Po-ké-mon is shy and r-are—"

"Like Hell!" Miriam spat as it spewed out the last recorded number, over a hundred years ago, of GipSies.

"—Stu-dies on Gip-Si are not up-to-date. In-for-ma-tion is ba-sed on hist-or-i-cal wri-tings. Gip-Si were con-sid-ered pe-sts and not pop-u-lar Po-ké-mon for Train-ers be-cau-se of sh-ort at-ten-tion sp-ans and in-a-bil-ity to un-der-sta-nd Hu-man sp-eech."

"See, Miriam. It doesn't understand you," Shamin smiled.

"Yeah, right!"

Dexter continued. "Gip-Sies are nat-ive to on-ly cold cli-mates. They o-ver-heat ver-y eas-ily. Due to la-ck of suit-able en-vi-ro-ment, num-bers, and nat-ur-al shy-ness of Gip-Sies, they h-ave not been seen for man-y year-s."

Shamin slapped the cover shut while Miriam snorted. "Another rare Pokémon? How many frickin' things are there?"

"They move pretty quickly," Shamin commented, interested. "You know, if they like stealing, we could train them." She grinned.

Miriam blinked, and also smiled. "Maybe. But since they don't understand Humans, ya have yar work cut out for ya."

"Don't you mean 'our' work?"

She laughed. "Hell, no! I ain't wastin' my time trainin' a rodent. I only take big, strong, cute ones like Pyro." She scooped up Pyro from Shamin's arms. "Now, Pyro, climb up the tree and fry those rodents."

"Miriam!" Shamin scolded.

"What? They deserve it!"

"No, they don't!"

"Yes, they—"

"Are you ladies lost?"

Miriam and Shamin snapped their head up to see a parka-covered figure standing down a ways. "N-no," Miriam almost sneered, hating to play Damsel in Distress if it wasn't to her immediate advantage.

The man walked closer, bringing down his deep violet hood and revealing spiked raven-colored hair. He smiled crookedly at them. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"We're looking for someone," Shamin explained. "He's probably lost."

The man thought about that information for a second, but didn't say what was on his mind. "Are you cold then?"

"It is Winter, dork," Miriam muttered. "Look, we don't need any help. All we're doin' is tryin' to get my stuff back from those thieves."

"Then it looks like you need help."

"Would y—?"

Miriam slapped her hand over Shamin's mouth. "No, we can manage."

"Really?"

"Y . . . yes," she trailed off as the man let out a few whistles and the GipSies crawled down with her stuff. "How'd ya do that?"

He grinned, watching Miriam toss Shamin her bag and the younger girl scoop up the clothes. "My secret. Now, ladies, do you need help?"

Shamin sighed, shoving the clothes in. "Look, have you see this boy? Blond hair, brown eyes, shorter than me? Has a Pikachu?"

The man rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "Well, I haven't actually seen him."

"But you know where he is?" Shamin demanded, jumping up excitably.

"Not exactly."

"Just give us to the nearest mile," Miriam sneered.

"Past the river."

"I told you he'd cross!" Shamin yelled at Miriam.

"Idiot! Doesn't he how think that ice isn't!" Miriam snapped under her breath. "He get across all right?"

The man shrugged. "Suppose."

Miriam sucked her teeth. "Look, Mister, can ya take us to him?"

"Yes."

They stood, waiting for him to get walking. "Well?" Miriam drawled.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Aren't you going to take us to Shan?" Shamin pleaded.

"Why should I?"

"You said you would!"

He smiled evilly. "No I didn't. You asked if I can, not if I will."

Miriam gritted her teeth. Of all the idiots in the forest, they had to get the grammatically correct one. "Will you take us then? Please."

"I'd be delighted, gentlewomen."

"Keep actin' like this, and ya'll find I'm not so gentle," Miriam muttered.

"Miriam, be nice," Shamin asked. "He's the only one who can take us where Shan is. Please?"

Miriam didn't answer.

****

Ash sat up slowly and stretched his arms, then let out a series of hacking coughs. When he was finished, he looked around the room. He was alone—Ash wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved at the fact—in an empty stone chamber, no windows and only one door covered with a sheet leading out. Five torches burned, three on the each of the walls and one on either side of the door. Carefully he slid out of his bag and waveringly stood up. The tiles were cold under his feet, and it wasn't nearly as warm out of the bag as it was in it. He coughed again, wrapping his arms around his bare chest, and started for the door.

Drawing back the sheet, Ash found himself looking down a dimly lit hallway. Carefully he started down it. It was colder now, and he shivered uncontrollably. He needed his clothes.

Suddenly Ash blinked and grounded to a halt. Where were his Pokémon? His bag? Clothes? Where was he? And how'd he get here?

That girl, he had to find that girl and ask her. He blushed slightly, remembering their last encounter.

Ash started to walk again, feet almost frozen. The floor was like ice. Dimly Ash imaged how his mother would react a him running around in drafty corridors after falling through ice, how his father would tell him that he had to take better care of himself. He smiled slightly, then the guilt started to gnaw at him again. What kind of son was he, running away from them? What excuse did he have? How could they still love him after what he did?

He sniffed, looking down at his feet and rubbing his arms for warmth. It was a constant worry now, that his parent would never want to see him again, that they hated him. What good were letters? He had left them. His fault, no one else's. His parents had loved him, didn't do anything that wasn't out of their parental duties. He betrayed them, and now how in the world could they still love him?

Ash always said he'd go back when he finished his training, but now he wondered if he'd have to eat his words. Miriam said only a handful of runaways ever went back home of their own freewill, which is why she wasn't going to return. Shamin barely remembered anything about her home life, not because she left when she was terribly young, but because she was lucky enough to be able to forget. They thought his parents knew what was going on and approved. Ash bit his lip. He was no better than them in reality. He lied to them, but Ash admitted he never crossed that line that allowed him to use them. He wouldn't cross that line, ever.

Coughing, he leaned up against a wall, suddenly tired mentally and physically. He couldn't go back home and face rejection from his parents, even if he damn as Hell deserved it. What would be the point of living if that happened to him? Ash bit his knuckles in thought. Here he was, fourteen, lost, alone, sick, friendless (humanly speaking), almost naked, and afraid. There was only one plus side to this, which was that he had money, but what good was that in the long run? He had to go back, but he couldn't. If his parents . . .

He slid down the cold wall and sat heavily on the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his head in them, ignoring the cold that seeped into his bones. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't cry. His chest hurt suddenly, and he coughed hard. His cheeks were suddenly wet.

He sat for a long time, growing colder the longer he sat. But Ash didn't want to move. He had nowhere to go, and despair was gaining a ground the more he thought about his situation.

"Hey, Lad, you wanna give me a hand?"

Ash lifted his head to see a tall, lanky man in a near black robe standing down the hall, arms laden with many books. Wiping his eyes, Ash stood up and walked over shakily. "Ahh, sure, Sir."

The man smiled, looking down at Ash through triangular-shaped spectacles. "Good," he sighed, dropping the books into Ash's arms. Ash staggered, not expecting to get the whole load and still weak. "Follow me, Lad."

Ash grunted and tried to look past the books to see where the man was going. "Can you, uhh, take a few of these books? I don't think I can hold them all."

The man chuckled. "Don't worry. We're almost there. Just down the hall a bit."

"Ah, right," he groaned, staggering and trying to keep the pile balanced. A few of the books slid off, but the man paid them no mind when Ash tried to tell him.

"Just put them on the table, Lad," he smiled when he opened the door and allowed Ash to pass. Ash let them fall from his arms less gracefully than he wished to, but his arms were so tired. The man sat down in a chair and opened a book, now paying Ash no heed.

Ash looked around the room. It was warmer than the wall, a fire in the hearth warming his body a few degrees. He walked closer over and huddled next to the fire to get warmer. The stones under his feet were still cold, and the walls were just as bare as the other room he had been in.

"If you're cold, Lad, your robe is above the fire, and a pair of slippers."

"My robe?" Ash questioned, standing up look over the mantle. There was a folded piece of cloth there, and he pulled it down. It was green and brown, and Ash remembered it from the robe he got from Ratwa.

"So you've been to Ratwa, Lad?" the man asked while Ash slipped the robe on, then the dark slippers.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" he asked, suddenly warm. The fabric was warmer than it looked. It must be made of a hybrid of Caterpie/Venonat silk. That stuff was expensive. He remembered that one time when he had gasped at the price tag of a dress made of the same material Misty had shown him when there was some Pokémon formal thing going on, and they all had to go. He had asked her why she couldn't just wear a dress she already had, since that one was so expensive and she'd only wear it once. Misty had just scoffed and said he'd never understand. She was right.

"Only Ratwa uses the deer emblem anymore, Lad. And the colors signify Ratwa as well. Green and brown, forest colors. Very primitive and predictable."

"You know about Ratwa?" Ash asked, walking silently over. The slippers absorbed any sound he'd make.

The man turned and grinned at his naïveté "Lad, I know much about ancient and new Pokémon leagues. More than any one alive or dead ever. Not to sound conceited or anything, of course."

"Of . . . course," Ash stuttered, then paused. "Do you know where Pooka is?"

"Of course."

Ash grinned and leaned forward against the table. "Where?"

"In the Pooka Forest." He smiled and turned a page.

"What . . . no! Where?" The man didn't answer, smirking, and Ash watched him carefully. "Aren't you reading that book backwards?"

The man looked up and set the book aside. "No, Lad. This language is written, as you would see it, back to front, right to left."

"My name's not 'Lad'."

"Then what is it?" the man teased. "Shan . . . or Ash Ketchum?"

Ash jerked back. "How'd you know?" How did they know? The man from Ratwa knew as well, and now this guy, and that girl.

"You talk in your sleep." Ash looked at him blankly. He did? The man sighed. "We're not stupid. We know."

"How?"

"Never you mind."

"Well, what's your name?"

The man blinked. "Ga . . . Gus," he drawled slowly. "Are you hungry?"

"You bet!" Ash laughed, then coughed. Gus watched him carefully. Suddenly a memory flickered across Ash's brain. "Umm, do you know where my Pokémon are?"

Gus smiled. "Being taken care of, of course. They were terribly exhausted and sick from the cold. Totodile has gathered a nasty cold, and Cyndaquil is suffering from exhaustion."

Ash blinked, suddenly worried. "Will they be . . . all right?" he whispered. Oh, God, if anything happened to any of them, he'd never forgive himself.

"In time, yes. I'm glad you remembered about them, Ash."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Can I see them?"

"Soon, soon. Along with a few of your other friends."

"Other friends?" Ash repeated.

Gus stood up. "A fellow of mine found them in the forest looking for you. It is a good day's travel before they will arrive though, for they will attempt to get here safety, not by crossing the river." The glasses glared down at him, and Ash shrank. "That was very dangerous, and you're extremely lucky the GipSies found you and your Pokémon. You'd be dead otherwise."

"I didn't know we were over the river," Ash whispered, banging his slipper against the ground and twirling his fingers, not looking at Gus. "I'm not very good at reading maps, either."

"And you weren't paying attention, were you?" Gus demanded harshly, hands on his hips.

"I guess not," Ash muttered.

"A Trainer always has to pay attention and know where he is, Ash. For his own safety, and the safety of his Pokémon. Think if you had fallen through the ice and all your Pokémon went with you. They're not Ghost Pokémon, and that water would have either shorted out their Pokéballs and freed them under the freezing cold water or frozen them solid. Even your Totodile would have had problems if freed under the water, as a Pokémon's first instinct it to breathed in air when released, even water ones. Totodile is not completely a water-living Pokémon, as it comes on land. If you had a Gyarados or similar, maybe they'd have a chance, but you don't. All of those Pokémon would have been dead with you at the bottom of the river."

Ash winced at each of the words. What kind of Trainer was he? His eyes watered, but he refused to cry in front of this man.

"And that's not the worst of it," Gus continued, still speaking harshly. Ash gulped, wondering how much worse it could get. "You put two girls and their Pokémon in danger as well." He winced. "Those two actually care about you, and you left them, for what? Because you felt betrayed. And why were you 'betrayed,' pray wonder?" Ash wondered how Gus knew all of this, but he held his tongue. "Winters here are not like where you come from, where you can walk out in a Tee-shirt and feel warm. They're cold, and you need warmth to survive. Those girls spent that money buying winter clothing for you and them."

"They didn't have to steal. We had money," Ash put in quietly, looking up at Gus to plead his case. The man glared down at Ash. "And they didn't even tell me. They just used me to get the money."

Gus looked at him hard. "So you had money, just you?" Ash nodded mutely. "So you guess they'd just come up to you and just leech of you, spend your money and none of theirs? You didn't think of that, did you, that they didn't want to use you that way?"

"It would have been—"

Gus silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Shut up and listen to me, Ash Ketchum. Those girls got money the only way they know how." He snorted at Ash. "I can't image what kind of Trainer you'd be if you continue to act so childishly."

Those words hurt more than anything else Gus had said, and Ash flinched worse than ever, hanging his head. His vision was blurred worse than ever and he gulped back the lump in his throat. He wanted to be a good Trainer, the world's greatest. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling and was glad his bangs were long so Gus couldn't see his face.

"Do you think Pokémon training is easy?" Gus demanded hotly.

Ash shook his head mutely.

"Well, there's one thing you're not ignorant on," the man snapped. "If you want to continue competing in these leagues, you'd better shape up. Or go back to Indigo, where winners are treated to world's recognition and commercial appearances." Gus snorted in disgust. "If that's your idea of Pokémon training. You don't compete for the glory, but for the honor of competing. That's Pokémon training, Ash, and if you can't do that, you just return home right now. Understand? These leagues won't give you any special privileges or looks because you won another, because we hate each other. We loathe each other."

So he was Pooka, Ash thought in the back of his mind, but listened to what Gus was saying with more interest than this new knowledge. Suddenly he coughed hard, clutching his chest.

Gus watched Ash cough, not rushing to his side. "If you want to compete in the Pooka League, or any league, I give you this warning: Trainers here attack you and your weaknesses instead of your Pokémon. We believe it is the Trainer that decides the outcome, not the Pokémon one uses. And it is true, of course. Ratwa attempts to give you an idea of how a Pokémon thinks, while Pooka shows the Trainer himself. The other Leagues that ran this way have been long since destroyed though. A pity and disadvantage for you."

Ash clutched the table, coughing up phlegm. Suddenly he didn't feel so well. "Th-thank you, Gus," he whispered.

"Don't thank me just yet," Gus said coldly. "I don't think you should compete here. Ever."

"What?" he gasped.

"You're not up to the challenge; you're soft from this new world of Training. Why bother?"

Ash looked up sharply. "I can't just not compete! I have to at least try. Trainer can't just walk away from a challenge because they think it's too hard! Then why bother training at all if you're afraid to lose!" He bit back his cough.

Gus raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan to compete here, then?"

"If I'm allowed, yes. Losing can teach me just as much as winning."

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but in ancient times losers never got another chance. When you lost the battle, you lost everything."

"Everything?"

Gus didn't continue into the area. "Pooka doesn't work that way, of course, but the latter leagues do still."

"May I compete in Pooka, Gus?"

The man looked at him intently. "I have no bearing in this decision."

"Who does, then?" Ash asked quietly.

Gus looked at him almost angrily and didn't answer.

****

"Might I ask how ya crossed the river?" Miriam asked hotly, trying to keep up with their guide. Pyro leaped through the trees above them.

The man smiled at them, showing a line of seemingly sharp and straight teeth. "I flew, of course." Then he laughed. "Funny, huh?"

"Yeah, a real riot," Miriam said dryly.

"How far away are we, Sir?" Shamin asked, trying to balance her pack on her shoulders, which seemed to somehow have everyone else's stuff in it. Luckily she got to walk in the other's footprints, otherwise she'd be terribly far behind.

"That all depends on what you're wondering about," he smiled. "I like Winter, don't you?"

"No," Miriam sneered. "It's too cold. I'll take the beach any day."

The man laughed, shifting his hood. "You're very funny, Miriam. Yes, very."

"And ya're a few canteens short," she muttered.

"What's your name anyway, Sir? You seem to know ours. Did Shan tell you?"

He smiled. "I personally have never met the lad. But, as to my name, it's . . ." He paused, like he had forgotten it. "Hunter, that's it." He laughed again.

"Nice to meet you, Hunter," Shamin smiled.

"Yes, a pleasure," Miriam said sarcastically.

"Of course it is," Hunter smiled.

"Whoa, glad he's not modest," Miriam muttered, slowing her step.

"What's your problem?" Shamin demanded.

"My problem?"

"With Hunter. You're oozing sarcasm. More than usual, anyway."

Miriam looked up and held out her arms, allowing Pyro to jump into them. "I don't trust him, all right. There's something about him. I can't place it, but it rubs me the wrong way." She shuddered.

Pyro growled his agreement, burying himself in Miriam's arms. Hunter didn't smell right, and the fox wondered if the man's name held any secret meanings, if Hunter was the hunter. Pyro didn't like being the hunted, and if he was, the roles were seriously going to be reversed.

"I think he's all right," Shamin countered.

"But ya think Blondie's all right, too, but then again there's no judgement for character."

Shamin bristled. "You're just too suspicious."

"Ya're too trustin'," Miriam snarled.

"Come on, Ladies. Don't lag behind, now!" Hunter called a distance away.

"We're coming," Shamin replied, speeding up.

Miriam stood quietly, petting Pyro. "Ya keep an eye on this one, Pyro, right?" He growled in agreement. "Good."

****

Ash sighed despondently, scooping and dumping his soup with his spoon. Gus had led him to the dining hall and then left him. The Trainer was okay, Ash admitted, but his attitude had changed so rapidly. First he started out as a nice guy, then started to point out every flaw Ash had ever had with meticulously correct detail. How had the guy known all he did? Was this some kind of conspiracy or something?

He hadn't expected these Leagues to be so different from the ones back home, but it was like night and day, or at least twilight. Ash had thought that the Leagues back home were hard, but Gus spoke of them like they were a walk in the park. And he sounded disgusted that they were even run. Ash remembered listening to Gus spew out oaths about Indigo and its vanity, champions, tests, and "difficulty" as they walked down the mass of corridors.

"Top sixteen, huh?" he had sneered when he had asked Ash what place he had gotten. Ash gulped, wondering if Gus knew he had lost against Richie by using an untrained Pokémon. It hurt to remember Charizard, and Ash hoped the big lizard was still training hard. In truth, Ash was really touched that Charizard had remembered about him, and had gone to Professor Oak's to see him all those months ago. It made he feel that he was at least some sort of worth as a Trainer, but Ash didn't tell this to Gus. Hopefully Charizard was still training in the Valley, getting stronger. And he had visited Ash, even after his Trainer had released him. That was a great sense of Loyalty, Ash felt, if a Pokémon returned back to its Trainer, even for a visit.

Gus had grunted something, interrupting Ash's thoughts at the time, but didn't divulge whatever had caused the noise. Ash had been silently glad. The Trainer had a very special knack for knocking him into place, destroying his ego and pride—which Ash knew were his especially weak points. He had this sort of air around him, a troubling air, for sure, but one that showed he knew what he was talking about. If Gus didn't believe something, Ash knew it probably had good reason. And he bet the Trainer was rarely wrong.

When he had asked Ash if he had any goals, Ash had quietly admitted he wanted to be the World's Greatest Pokémon Master. At that Gus had stopped and turned slowly, looking at Ash in a sort of stupor. Then his eyes went over the boy, as if mentally summing him up. Ash almost winced as the eyes went over his wild and long hair, dirty cheeks, chewed fingernails, lean body, wide eyes, big ears, big mouth, and waited for the verdict.

"You've got your work cut out for you, then," Gus had simply said, turning smartly.

They had walked a bit longer—the dining hall must have been on the opposite side of the building—before Ash finally summoned up the courage to ask, "Do you think I could ever be?"

"Be what?" Gus had asked curtly, pushing open a door.

"The Best," Ash said quietly. Gus must be playing games with him.

"Do you know that there is a price for being the best?" Gus had countered.

Ash was quiet. "I heard from that man at Ratwa, I think, something about losing standards. Is that it?"

"Maybe, for some. But there is another price."

"Wh—"

Gus had cut him off. "How do you plan to be the Best?"

"Competing."

"There is more to being Great than by just winning." Ash was silent. "So you want to be the World's Greatest Pokémon Battler?"

"No, the Greatest Master," he corrected softly.

"And what is a Master, Ash? Hmm, what?"

He wasn't sure what Gus wanted, so he feigned his stupidity. "I . . . I don't know."

Gus had chuckled grimly. "You aspire to be something and you don't even know what it is. Pathetic."

Ash had to bite back his temper. "I always thought a Master was someone who understood Pokémon, who could get them to do their best in a battle and was their friend," he said hotly.

He'd looked over his shoulder at Ash. "And you said you didn't know."

"Am I right?"

"Maybe," he'd said, shrugging. "So you wish to be the best, of everything? Well, you can't. It's impossible."

Ash'd hung his head. His dream was foolish, just like his father had said. "Why?"

"It just is. You can't be the best at everything without having dire consequences that I wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemy. You become consumed by the very being of being the Greatest, become an empty shell of a person. Nothing to live for, because you had given up your life and soul to be the Greatest, and only for a second. Someone else is always training to usurp your position, and when you lose your position you'd be destroyed. No, the price for being the best is having to be the best, forever, for your own sake of being. A terrible price."

"But I don't have to go that far," Ash'd pleaded. "I just want to be good."

"Good for others to see, or for you to see when you look in the mirror, or for something else?"

"I don't know! I just want to be the Greatest Master!"

"And the fame would mean nothing to you, the money, the women, the admiration, the place in history?" Gus had sneered sarcastically.

"I don't know," Ash had said helplessly.

"Don't know much, do you?"

"No!"

Gus had left him with that, for they had reached the dining hall finally. The soup had been already out, and Gus had simply left once Ash had gotten settled. That was over an hour ago.

Ash sniffed, digging the heel of his palm into his eye. Maybe he should just give up and go home. It'd be better, maybe.

No, he couldn't just give up and quit. That'd be even worse than whatever could come. And Ketchums weren't quitters, that was for sure. They may be stupid, hotheaded, stubborn, ignorant, blind on some areas, immature, loud, brash, impatient, totally hopeless in . . . Ash suddenly stopped, feeling he had made his point, and then continued. But they certainly weren't quitters.

He coughed, then pushed himself away from the table. Originally Ash planned to stay put until someone came to get him, but that was a long and boring time ago. Besides, he really wanted to find his Pokémon and make sure they were all right.

There was a possibility of taking five doors out of this room, and Ash picked one at random. He didn't even remember which one he had entered through. Now that he was dressed, the building didn't feel nearly as cold as before.

Torches spaced about twenty feet apart, staggered so that at the midpoint of two on one wall the other wall had a torch burning, lighting the area. There were no windows, tapestries, paintings, suits of armor, statues, to decorate the hall, something Ash felt would have seriously completed the picture. He wondered if he was in some sort of castle of lore where knights and their Pokémon fought valiantly for princesses or something. Then he berated himself. Those were foolish images, and Gus would have scolded him up the wall for even thinking them plausible.

Even still, Ash smiled, just imagining how it would have been, with trumpets blaring their fanfares and banners waving in the wind. And the shining knights would come riding up on their Rapidash and get rid of the dragon that was terrorizing the castle . . .

Ash paused. That didn't make a lot of sense, come to think about it. The knights couldn't wear metal because that'd absorb the Rapidash's heat from the flames. That was common sense, because if the Rapidash got startled, its first response is always to turn up the heat of its flames. No matter how well trained a Rapidash would always do that. It was like training yourself not to blink when someone startles you. It's a response to protect yourself.

He shrugged. Maybe they didn't ride Rapidash. Well, they couldn't ride water Pokémon, because then they'd get all rusted up.

Well, whatever.

Stopping at the first door—already he was a distance away from the hall—Ash flexed his fingers over the knob, debating whether or not he should enter. What was behind Door #1? Is it a Brand New Car, or maybe an All-Expensive-Paid Trip Around the World? Or was it the Booby Prize?

He smiled. Way too much time hanging around with Miriam and Shamin. Ash shook his head, then turned the knob and gave it a hard push.

Lights immediately lit the room up, fire bursting in the hearth. He blinked, looking around. The room was also empty, save a mat in front of the fire. Carefully he walked in, leaving the door hanging open. It still was as empty as it had been when he had glanced in from the hall. A film of dust was on the floor, and Ash slowly backed up, closing the door behind him. He could hear the torches and fire extinguish themselves.

"Ghosts," he murmured, speeding up his pace to put some distance between him and the door. He wondered if they were Human ghosts, or Pokémon. (Miriam had once asked him just where did Ghost Pokémon come from?! When he said no one really knew, she had then suggested the theory that Ghost Pokémon were actually Human souls or whatever, that the Pokémon were actually Humans. Ash had made no comment to the statement, intrigued in the theory and the fact that Miriam had given it. He had even wondered if the Ghost Pokémon knew where they came from.)

Ash ran into a dead end before he ran into another door. The corridor had suddenly crashed in on itself, probably years ago, and no one had bothered to clear it. Sighing, Ash turned around and started back, walking rapidly. Suddenly he felt very alone. He didn't know why, but he wanted to find someone, anyone.

He was running full out by the time he reentered the dining hall, and he bent over and grasped his knees, coughing and gasping. A crash made him look up, and he saw his soup bowl twirling on the floor.

"What?" he muttered, walking slowly over to the upturned dish.

It was still spinning around when he bent next to it. He took a deep breath, hands over the bowl, preparing to lift it up, when suddenly it took off down like a shot.

"Huh?!" he yelled, falling back on his butt from surprise. The bowl ran into a wall near an exit, then down the hall, bouncing off the walls every few feet every other second. "Hey, come back!" Ash called, leaping up and running after the runaway dishware.

The bowl sped up, hitting the walls with even greater frequency. It could move faster than he could run, a lot faster, and it quickly left Ash's sight as it followed the turn of the hall. The only way Ash knew it was still in front of him was because he could hear the ever-constant BANG! BANG! BANG!

Suddenly he heard a yelp, and a bang-bash-clonk-clonk-wham-bang-bang-wham-clank-crash. Great, now whatever it was had probably hurt itself running into a corner or something. Ash ran a bit faster, then suddenly met the same "corner" the bowl ran into.

"Ow! Ow! Oowowow!" he yelped as he slipped down the narrow stairs. He ended up lying painfully on his side next to the broken fragments of what had once been his bowl. Ash gripped his side and pushed himself up into a sitting position, touching the fragments grimly. Suddenly his ears picked up a pattering sound, and he looked up to see a shadow against the wall running off. "Hey! Stop, you!"

Of course it didn't stop, and Ash leaped painfully up and after it. He was running so fast, he missed a familiar face that had come to inspect the noise.

"Pikapi?"

Ash skidded to a halt and whirled around, almost losing his balance. "Pikachu!"

She leaped into his arms. "Pikapi!" she laughed as he hugged her. "Chu pikachu pika kaka pikachu?"

He laughed. "I'm fine. You?" She nodded happily. "Where are the others?" Pikachu pointed down the hall, and then said that they were all right as well. "Let's go see them."

They walked quickly down the hall, and there was another curtain being used as a door. Pikachu leaped from his arms and ran into the room, but Ash had to stoop to follow. And suddenly he was mob from all sides, being hugged from all his Pokémon.

"Damn, I'm so glad you're all right!" he laughed, hugging them all as well. "You all are all right, right?"

They all nodded, although Totodile added a great sneeze, dousing Ash with a small water gun. The other Pokémon all laughed, all being "attacked" in this manner before, while Totodile looked abashed.

Ash laughed, wringing his robe. "It's all right, Totodile." Then he grew serious. "Look, I'm sorry, guys. I was really stupid." The Pokémon looked at each other in the manner that said, "When isn't he?" but waited for Ash to continue. "I could have gotten us all seriously hurt, maybe killed, and I'm sorry. Thanks for looking out for me." He smiled at them. "I'll try to be more careful. Promise."

They smiled their forgiveness, cuddling closer. Ash sighed, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes, petting the Pokémon. They circled him, and everyone gave a good sniff from their individual colds. Ash slowly drifted asleep.

"And how the Hell did you get in here!?" roared a voice.

Everyone jumped, Ash's eyes jolted open and pressed himself against the wall. A gigantic man with a wild spiked plum-colored hair and red eyes glaring down at him. He was covered in shadows and looked dangerous with his glittering teeth stretched into a sneer.

Ash couldn't move his mouth to form words, the man was so frightening.

"Answer me! What the Hell you doing in here!"

****

"Knock it off!" Miriam screamed. "All of ya!"

Shamin instantly dropped her snowball, but Hunter continued throwing his with a wide grin. "Hunter, I think you'd better stop," Shamin warned.

"What for?" he grinned at her, enjoying Miriam's glares.

"Um," Shamin looked up, and watched as Pyro leaped onto Hunter's head, biting his ear. "That's why."

Hunter howled in pain as Pyro ran circles around his head, scratching his cheeks and biting savagely. Suddenly Pyro leaped away, and Hunter's head was a giant flame. With a scream, Hunter buried his head in the snow.

"Serves ya right, ya frinkin' bastard!" Miriam spat, stomping over. "And if I wasn't a lady, I'd give ya a frinkin' good kick in the groin and make sure ya never have kids!"

The guilty man raised his head, a goofy grin on his face. "Jolly good show, Miriam!" he laughed loudly. Shamin reeled her head, backing up.

"What!" Miriam roared. Pyro bent his head and growled savagely.

Hunter rubbed his tender head, still laughing madly. "Wonderful, wonderful!" He started to walk away.

Shamin looked at Miriam with wide eyes. "What's with him?"

"He's certifiable!" Miriam screamed. "We're followin' a nutcase! One nut to find the other!"

"He can't be crazy!"

"He just had his entire head lit up like a match, and he thought it was a jolly good joke! What does that say to ya! Look, we're losin' this crackpot!"

"But he's the only one that can take us to Shan!"

"In how many pieces? Look, Shammy, we'll end up dead if we follow him!"

"Come on, girls!" Hunter called.

"Miriam, come on. We got to be almost there," Shamin pleaded.

"In our graves?" Miriam snapped sarcastically. "I won't follow him anymore! He's already tripped me, thrown snowballs at me, thrown my pack up a tree, gave me a face wash, attempted to have me fall down a hole! I seriously doubt I'll be alive by the time I get to wherever the Hell Shan is!"

Shamin gave her the puppy eyes. "Miriam, he probably likes you or something," she tried.

"What?!"

"Like when first-graders push the girls in the playground. He wants you to notice him," Shamin said, trying to grasp at any plausible idea.

Miriam looked horrified. "Screw that!"

"Miriam!"

"Yoo hoo! Girls! Get moving!" Hunter called. His head was still smoking.

Shamin gripped Miriam's arm and started to drag the older woman while she screamed, "NO! NO! NO!"

****

"Are you a mute! Answer me! What are you doing in here!" the man demanded.

"I-I-I w-w-was just-t ch-checking my-my Po-Pokémon," Ash stuttered. It would have been better if sound actually came out of his mouth.

The man narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Pikachu pika kaka chu," Pikachu stepped in, seeing that Ash was literally frozen to the spot. "Pikapi chuka Pikachu pi pichupi."

The man blinked, suddenly looking at Ash's pale face. His face broke into a wide grin. "Sorry, Son. Did you think I was yelling at you?" Ash nodded wildly, and the man laughed. "Oh, no. I was yelling at this—" he reached for Ash's head, and Ash squeezed his eyes shut in fear—"little pest." Ash opened his eyes to see the man holding a black shivering mass of fur by the tail. "Now what are you doing in here?" the man said in a not-so-patient voice.

The creature opened its emerald-green eyes and looked helplessly up at the man. "Gip?" it squeaked.

"Really?" he said icily. "I thought we made it clear that you and your kind were to stay out of this building. Were you confused at some point?"

It shrank into a small ball. "Gip."

Ash watched the creature shiver fearfully, and stood up quickly. "It's my fault, Sir." He didn't even pass the man's chest.

The man looked down at him over his powerful chest. "Excuse me?"

"I said it was my fault," Ash gulped, praying he wasn't making his own funeral.

"Gip?" the creature mouthed, eyes open at its savior. It didn't quite understand what the boy was saying, but that the man's attention was diverted from it. That was a definite plus.

"I, um, found the . . . Pokémon outside and brought it in, it was so cold outside, and um, I'm sorry," he squeaked, hoping the man wouldn't ask how he got outside.

The man looked at Ash critically. "Really?"

"Yes, Sir," Ash said humbly. "I didn't know you didn't want them inside. It won't happen again."

Ash wasn't sure if the man believed him or not, but the man continued to stare at Ash. "Do you know why GipSies aren't allowed in here?"

"No, Sir."

"If you let one in, they all come in. And cause trouble. They're useless pests, can't do anything right. Don't even understand what you say to them."

"Then how can it know not to come inside if it doesn't understand what you say?" Ash countered.

The man glared at Ash. "They understand traps. We got ten this morning."

"Ten?"

"Killed, carcasses to the wild Pokémon about." The man looked at Ash. "So you brought this one in?"

Ash couldn't say no, otherwise the Pokémon would probably get killed, and he couldn't let that happen. "Yes, Sir. I did."

The man frowned, not liking the answer, and tossed the GipSi at Ash. "Keep it then, but don't let any more in."

Ash clutched the squirming mass of fur, trying to calm it. "Yes, Sir. I won't."

He watched Ash try and settle the Pokémon down, then asked, "So you're Ash, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

The man crossed his arms over his large chest, studying Ash. The Pokémon stood at Ash's feet, Pikachu climbing up to his shoulder. The GipSi still huddled in a tiny ball in his arms. "Are you feeling better, then?"

"Yes, Sir." He felt he needed to add more. "Thank you for asking."

The man smiled suddenly. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes. Gus led me to the dining hall and gave me soup."

"Gus?" The man looked puzzled, then nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Gus."

Ash would have dearly loved to ask the man what his name was, but couldn't get the nerve up. "Yes."

"So you wish to battle in Pooka?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," Ash said excitably, fear suddenly gone.

"You can drop the 'Sir', Ash," the man laughed.

"Yes, Si—" Ash stopped. "Can I battle? Gus won't tell me."

"We can't refuse you the option of battling," the man smiled. "It is considered rude, at least he said so. But I have talked to . . . Gus, and he considered it a waste of time. I agree, of course, on principle."

There was a sudden uproar of complaints from Ash's Pokémon, and the man laughed.

"For Pokémon who wouldn't even be battling, they are a feisty lot."

"I wouldn't get to use my Pokémon?" Ash asked.

The man shook his head, smiling. "No, no Pokémon are used in Pooka Competitions."

"Then . . . how does it work?"

"No hints, Ash. Gus won't allow it," he smiled. "If you wish to compete, be in the Great Hall. It will start the second the sun is down, and will last until the first bell toll of morning."

"I'll compete," Ash said confidently. "What do I have to do?"

The man smiled. "You shall be surprised. Until then."

****

"I told ya not to pass that line!" Miriam yelled, pushing Hunter away from her.

"What line?" Hunter laughed as he landed in the snow, then started to make a snow angel.

"Don't kill him, Miriam," Shamin pleaded, stepping in front of the woman. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah right!" Miriam sneered. "I'd be doin' Humankind a favor getting' that guy out of the gene pool! I bet he was disqualified from the race for shovin'!"

Shamin looked at her blankly, not getting the joke at the moment. "Just go to sleep, all right?"

"It's cold," Miriam said through gritted teeth. "And he's gonna drop snow on me, I know it."

"Pyro'll protect you," Shamin sighed, scanning the trees for the fox.

Miriam smiled slightly, remembering the fox. Pyro hated Hunter more than he hated Blondie. Smart fox. And they say you have to go to college to get knowledge like that! "Ya know, I bet he's leadin' us in circles."

"Quit being so suspicious, Miriam. If he was, we'd have seen our own footprints."

"Not if he's doin' a nautilus pattern or whatever," she countered, glaring that the man.

"A what?"

"It's like a shell, where you spiral out or somethin'."

"Oh. Where'd ya learn that?"

"Pinky and the Brain."

"Ah, cartoons. What can't you learn from them?" Shamin smiled.

Miriam smiled as well. "Blondie was watchin' them. That Rattata has a big head, I'll tell ya. I'm surprised he doesn't fall over cuz it's so heavy."

"Miriam, it's a cartoon. In cartoons things don't work according to normal physics or whatever."

"Wouldn't it be cool if they did in real life?" Miriam smiled. "Ya cut ya're hair in one episode, and it's back to normal the next show. I'd like that, and I bet Hunter would." She laughed, looking at his bald head, the burn-blisters forming. It wasn't exactly the most pleasing sight, but Miriam though he deserved it.

Shamin sat thoughtfully on her sleeping bag. "Miriam, do you think we could be a cartoon?"

"What?"

"Well, haven't ya seen that movie where it turns out they're all just a book some kid's reading? Couldn't we be like that?"

Miriam looked at her. "O-okay . . . so what happens if the 'author' doesn't finish writin' the book? What happens to us?"

Shamin rolled her eyes at her. "Miriam, you know what I mean. Haven't you ever thought about that? There's this one religion that says were just God's dream, and when he wakes us, we're POOF!"

"I'll slip him some Valium, then."

"Ha ha. You mean you've never thought about that?"

"No. See, I'm normal. I think of normal stuff, not religious psy-call-oh-gee or philly-o-sophy or whatever."

Shamin glared at her. "Not funny. But Miriam, just think about it. What if we're really just nothing?"

"We are just nothing."

"That's low self-esteem."

Miriam snorted. "Bull. That's fact." She sighed, and didn't continue into the area. "Why are ya thinkin' about Religion? Ya aren't considerably religious, last time I checked. People only get that way if they think . . . Oh, Shamin, ya're not worryin' 'bout dyin'!"

"I'm not thinking about my Death, Miriam, although I should be out here," Shamin sighed, rubbing her arms. "Except there ain't no way I'm getting up there."

"Don't talk that way," Miriam smiled. "I think everyone gets where they belong."

"And maybe I don't belong in Heaven?" Shamin said, giving a crooked smile.

This was serious, Miriam thought. "Shammy, if anyone belongs up there, ya do, all right. Myself, I figure a few years next to the furnace, but nothing serious. She's all-forgivin', ya know."

"Who?"

"God, silly. She has to be, cuz she knows everything. To understand everythin' is to forgive everythin'. I read that somewhere."

"God's a girl?"

Miriam laughed at her silliness. "Of course. Damn, if God was a guy, we'd have serious problems, ya know. Ya know how men like explosions and sports and belchin' and stuff." She shuddered. "Just think how screwed up life would be with someone like that in charge. Not a pretty picture, I think. Nope, He is definitely a She. People only say She's a guy so the men can feel special. Ya know how easily their ego breaks."

"That is one messed up view of God, Miriam," Shamin said slowly.

"Ya don't believe me, she who says we're a cartoon or book?" Miriam grinned. "Get some sleep and dream up ya're own little Universe."

"Do you think they remember us when they wake up?"

"God, I hope not."

"Why not?"

"They say if ya remember who ya dreamed about when ya wake up, that's who ya're gonna marry."

"Really?" Shamin sat up again. "And why don't ya want to get remembered by God?"

"Call me weird, but I don't want to marry someone who made me up. That's just . . . weird."

Shamin nodded. "Do you remember who you dream about, then?"

"Do ya?"

She shrugged, lying back down.

"There's yar answer," Miriam sighed, closing her eyes. "Night, Shammy."

****

Ash followed Pikachu through the hall, after telling the other Pokémon to rest and heal up. He thought Pikachu should rest as well, but, well, someone had to guide him through the winding corridors.

GipSi was curled asleep in the right pocket of his robe, out of sight. Ash didn't want to chance angering anyone else, should they see her. Pikachu had informed him that GipSi was girl, and that it was her who saved his life. That was part of the reason the "Keepers", as Gus and Company were called by the forest Pokémon, where so ticked at seeing her inside again. This GipSi was the only one that had been able to get in and out of the building more than once, and live to tell the tale. Not that she did, of course, because that would just make it easier pick her out of the clan of GipSies around.

She was an extremely agile creature, and light. Ash almost forgot that she was in his pocket, and she'd bitten his finger when he had shoved his hand in the opening, scolding him for waking her. And those tiny teeth were sharp, he remembered, still sucking on his finger to stop the bleeding.

GipSi was also very chatty when awake. Ash had to wonder how Pikachu or the other Pokémon could keep up with the rapid conversation she put forth. He knew he couldn't understand her yet, because a Trainer needed at least a few months to proficiently understand Pokémon speech. It was only now that Shamin could almost figure out what Pikachu was stating, if Pikachu went slowly and spoke clearly. But even now GipSi chatted his ears off worse than any girl he had ever known had, and that was some . . . um, accomplishment.

Ash looked at the walls. Here tapestries were hung, old tapestries with faded pictures and gold tassel. Most looked like they housed the same scene, only with different actors. They were always edged with dark colors, purple-black, and the inner portions shone brilliantly with brighter, swirling colors. The humans in the center were always looking at Ash as he walked by, their eyes wide open and clutching an open Pokéball, the red energy scattering out to the sides. Ash thought they looked afraid. Around them were strange creatures in different forms, and no matter how hard Ash squinted, he couldn't tell what kind of Pokémon they were. It was like their features were constantly changing, even in these still-lives. The energy for the Pokéball couldn't seem to get close to them either, for Ash thought that every time he blinked the streaks were in a different area.

His stopped at the last one. It looked incomplete, showing no person standing in the fabrics. It took Pikachu a moment to realize Ash was no longer following her—not that he had been following her very avidly down this corridor—and she turned. "Pikapi?"

"Look at this, Pikachu," he murmured, touching the fabric with his fingertips. It was just as soft as his own robe, probably made of the some expensive thread.

Pikachu sniffed, wiping her nose, and walked over on her hindlegs, looking at the canvass. She saw nothing interesting about it, and spoke her confusion.

"It's the only one not done. Why would they hang it up if it wasn't finished?"

"Pika chu kaka pikachu," she volunteered as she climbed up to his shoulder. Once perched, she tilted her head to look at it again.

"'Maybe it is done'?" Ash shook his head. "I don't think so. It doesn't look like the others, I mean."

Pikachu shrugged, leaning forward to sniff the fabric. It didn't have that "new" smell, which it should if it was just made. "Pika chuchu pikachu."

Ash sighed. "Maybe you're right."

"Pika Pikachu," she said confidently.

"That is a so-Miriam attitude," Ash muttered, but smiling anyway. Pikachu nodded her agreement. "Come on. Let's go to the Main Hall or whatever it's call." Still, as he walked, his eyes lingered on the tapestry, his fingers touching the fabric until the last second.

He should have been looking Forward, because suddenly a door swung open.

"Oh, gee, I'm terribly sorry," a female voice giggled. Suddenly a familiar head of bushy purple hair appeared over Ash's head. "I think your nose is leaking."

Ash pushed him up, pinching his nose to try and stop the bleeding. "I hadn't noticed," he muttered. "You all right, Pikachu?"

Pikachu shook her head wildly to get rid of the headache, then smiled reassuringly. "Pi."

"Need a hand?" she asked, twirling an amethyst-beaded necklace through her slender fingers.

He looked back to her. "Ah, sure." He held out his hand, then waiting for her hand to grip his. It didn't come. Instead, she clapped. "Oh, very funny."

"Thank you." She smiled, watching himself push himself up. "Your nose is still leaking, you know?"

Ash glared at her. Suddenly he didn't like her presence as much as he had previously, albeit he hadn't quite warmly welcomed it before. "Thank you . . ." He trailed off, remembering that he didn't know her name.

She smiled, blinking at him with her wide violet eyes.

"Um, my name's Ash."

"I know," she smiled.

He rolled his eyes and struggled for patience. "And what's your name?"

She nodded with a happy grin on her face, thick lips parting to show perfect white teeth. "You want that. Gus said you would. My name is, let's see, Irus. Like the flower, I think, but spelled differently. My name only had one 'i' in it."

Ash looked at her like she was crazy, which she obviously was. "Okay." Carefully he looked down at his hand, and waited to see if his nose was still bleeding. It wasn't. "Do you have someplace I could wash up, Irus?" He indicated his hand and face.

"No."

"No . . . bathrooms or anything?"

She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Irus grinned impishly. "No." When, whipping her hair, she said, "Come on, Ash. You don't want to be late, do you? The sun sets within the next twenty minutes. Then the witching hours start."

"Isn't it be-witching?" Ash asked, following her. She moved rapidly, dark mulberry robes flying out like wings around her. She's probably a witch, Ash thought sarcastically. He shuddered, thinking he preferred the Halloween variety.

"Does it really matter, Ash?" Irus asked, walking backwards so she could face him. "Hello, Pikachu. How are you?"

Pikachu didn't answer, eyeing Irus with a curious air. There was something about this girl that rubbed her fur the wrong way. That large man was the same, except to a lesser extent. Besides, it was rare to met someone who was even less there than Ash was.

Irus laughed, suddenly doing a series of back flips down the corridor. "Those certainly do wake you up!" she smiled, looking at Ash and Pikachu's shocked expression.

"That . . . that was pretty good," he stuttered, understating and knowing it. Man, it'd be cool to be able to do that!

She shrugged, twirling. "I never did it before."

"Really?"

Irus didn't respond, brushing out the wrinkles in her robe.

"Are you a Trainer at Pooka?" Ash tried, fishing for some sort of conversation.

She paused in her actions. "A . . . Trainer?"

"You know, you help control what happens here, battle or whatever you do against other Trainers that want to win Pooka?"

"Pooka hasn't battled with other Pokémon since the Fall," she stated with a smile.

"The 'Fall'?"

Irus put on that face and stance, rocking on her heels, which meant the person is reciting something they consider an absolute waste of using the words and effort needed to say them. Ash remembered it from school. "They said Pooka drove people and Pokémon crazy when competition was run the old way, so it was decided that the Pokémon would be spared that madness." Ash looked at her. She had that face that said she really didn't understand what or why something had happened, so only spoke the parts as she understood them and made the rest of the blanks up. "Anyway, they thought of a new system. Many of the Trainers here left because they did not like the new way, for it was, in their opinion, a not very good test. Of course, many trainers did accept under the new standards, which is why it is still used."

Irus sighed, giving a small smile. "The Trainers died a long time ago, of course." She grinned. "I, myself, wasn't here to see the origins, having just arrived a few years over a mere decade ago, like the others, but um . . . Gus could give you a very long and boring history of Pooka. He knows everything." She raised her pert nose. "He's not like the rest of us, either."

"Pardon?" Ash asked carefully.

"Pooka is only run because he feels devoted to it, to the Trainers. The rest of us could care less. It's not very fun. Hardly anyone ever comes here anymore. And he says we can't play tricks or tease them until after they Test, but they leave so quickly! If they leave at all. And he's prepared to wait another Eternity to see that the old Trainers can have their League run properly, and rest decently. He believes that crap!"

Ash looked at Irus. She had spoken so seriously during this detailing of Pooka. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Everything! He's no fun, and he puts a downer on everyone else's fun. I wish I had gone to get those girls out in the woods. At least I'd be having some fun!" She rubbed her hands and closed her eyes as if dreaming up the mischief she would have caused.

Both Ash and Pikachu perked their ears up. "You mean Sh—"

"And look at me!" She indicated her body. "This appearance is disgusting, ya know. So . . . unremarkable!" She pulled on the robe. "How could they want to look like this—willingly?! How can he stand it! Isn't it uncomfortable?"

"I think the robes are comfortable," Ash said, putting in his two cents. Pikachu nodded. The fabric was very soft and warm, and her fur didn't cling to it.

"You would," Irus snapped. "I like being au natural."

Ash stared mutely at her, trying to picture being au natural outside (or in the building, for that matter) in the dead of Winter. " . . . "

"Got a problem with that?" she snapped, poking his chest hard.

He shook head wildly. "Nope, nope. You do whatever you want."

"I would, except Gus says no." She frowned. "You know what kind of risk he's taking running this forgotten League?"

"No?"

"Just think if the world found out his . . . our secret, or just one power-hungry Trainer? Image what would happen!"

Ash couldn't see what would happen, except that Pooka would get more Trainers to come here.

"We'd be . . ." She shuddered unable to continue into this area. "Our lives would be ruined, getting ordered around by some idiot. If I wanted that, I'd get married!" She grinned suddenly at her joke, then returned back to being serious. "Trainers are users."

Pikachu glared at Irus. "Chu!"

"Not all of us," Ash put in, hurt at the accusation. Pikachu patted him comfortingly.

"Yeah right," Irus spat. "You use your Pokémon to win Leagues."

"I don't force them to battle if they don't want to! They're my friends."

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him. "Fine, you're not as bad as others. But I wouldn't want you for a Trainer, or anyone. That's Slavery. Forcing Pokémon to battle against each other, confining them in little balls when they're bad."

"I never do that! I take care of my Pokémon! All right, so some Trainers are like that, but the majority of us aren't! You're being prejudiced!"

"And you're being naïve! You're not a Pokémon! You don't know how it's like in a Pokéball!"

"Of course I . . . do," Ash said slowly, suddenly realizing that he did know what it was like in a Pokéball. The memory felt like a dream. Dark. Quiet. Lonely. Boring. The loss, the absence of Time. He shuddered. "Don't ask me how, but I know."

Pikachu looked at him, surprised. How could he know?

Irus glared at him, unbelieving. Then her face softened, looking at his robe. "You have been to Ratwa, yes. You would know, then." Her eyes went to Pikachu, who was even more confused at her sudden admission that Ash did know. "And obviously you don't force Pokémon in Pokéballs if they don't want to." Pikachu nodded. "But not all Trainers are like that! I can just image screaming in a Pokéball while the Trainer laughs at my fear, at his Pokémon's fear."

Ash looked at her and saw that she was actually afraid. She felt for the Pokémon. She was a good Trainer for that fact, even if she never won a battle in her life. "Is that why you don't battle with Pokémon, Irus?" he asked softly.

"I won't battle against another!" she said vehemently. "It's one to play harmless tricks for a laugh. It's another to fight and hurt for Pride, or lack of! That's just disgusting."

"In that light, it would be," Ash agreed, picking Pikachu up. "But some Pokémon like to battle. The point is to understand Pokémon and do your best to do what's right for them. I won't send Pikachu against something she's terrified of, or if she could get hurt. Trainers have to know when to start, and when to quit." He struggled sadly, giving Pikachu a hug. "I guess some Trainers forget that the Pokémon are actually alive and can get hurt, they're so worked up in winning. But that's no excuse, really."

Irus tilted her head, twirling her beads through her fingers again. "Well, if I ever got a Trainer, I hope she or he would be like you, Ash. And I hope you do find out what you want in your life." She rolled her eyes and grinned sardonically. "It can't actually be to be the Greatest Pokémon Master."

"But it is."

"Please," she laughed, starting to walk down the corridor again. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard."

"Why!" he demanded, running to catch up to her.

"Because you can't be the Greatest!"

"I could to!" he snapped back.

Irus laughed, shoving him so hard he ran against the wall. She didn't notice, still walking. "No, you can't. You just spewed out probably the most Romantic ideals of Pokémon Training, and you're telling me you can be the Greatest Master." She laughed.

"And why couldn't I?" Ash demanded, rubbing his sore arm.

She paused, looking at him curiously, seeing his anger. "Answer me this, then, and I'll tell you. When will you be a Master?"

"I don't know. It's gonna take a long time."

"No, Stupid. After what event? After you defeat every League, after everyone accepts you as being great, after whatever it is you're waiting for?"

Ash didn't know. He had always thought you were a Master when you felt that you were. Of course, there was that test you had to take to actually get the title of Master . . . "After that test?" he hazarded.

"You don't even know how to be a Master!" Irus laughed, tossing her hair again. "Listen, Trainer, you can never be a Master of Pokémon, not truly. That's like trying to understand the workings of the Universe to the last lepton and hadron. It's like being able to comprehend the workings and reasons of being Alive! You can't do that! Pokémon Mastery is too vast a subject. You can be a Master in Battling, in Training, in Breeding, in Science and Health, in Origins, in whatever fields that are left, but you can't be a Master in Pokémon! It's impossible."

Her face had lit up, and her hands gestured and accented her words. "How can you possibly, possibly be a Master in something that deals with every fiber of Life? Pokémon aren't just a hobby! If there's one thing, one thing that all these Leagues are right on, that Gus is right on, is that Pokémon are Life. You can't Master Life. You can only live it! And even then, only a small, tantalizing piece, one that makes you long for more. And you struggle for the flavor for the rest of your life until Endallah comes. And, if your Religion permits it, you start over your life when Livonah rings already addicted to the spice of Pokémon!"

Irus shook her head and smiled at him. "Ash, you can't truly be the Greatest in that sense. You can only be the Greatest to yourself, and even then not that, because you're always learning something different. With each whatever-it-is a Trainer does, you learn and become even greater. You'll die never achieving greatest for yourself. Other's will see you as great, but you truly won't be, because you didn't learn everything. You'd have to live forever, which you can't do. And you don't want to! Nothing else lives forever, and you'd always be alone in the end. I don't know how long a Ghost Pokémon can survive, but I know they're not the best company for everyone, even each other. You'd lose Pikachu, watch all your friends and Pokémon die. Why do you think Ghost Pokémon are so difficult to catch and are so mischievous? They don't want to make friends that they'll lose after those short few years, and who they can't abandon in this time of need and because of friendship. Ghost Pokémon don't forget. But they also don't want to be alone, so most are stuck between a rock and a hard place. And they don't want Trainers to take life so seriously, because they're only on Earth for a few short and precious years." She shook her head sadly.

Ash was silent, remembering the few Ghost Pokémon he had met. "Some Ghost Pokémon try to keep legends alive, or protect their Trainer's memory, or just goof," he muttered. He never thought there had been more than just loyalty on their part, or character.

"Humans forget so rapidly. They remember glorious wars that never were, words that were never spoken, people that never existed," Irus sighed. "Ash, don't cling to the illusions you give to yourself, but don't give up your dreams. Just understand that there are dreams, and then there's dreams. Ya know."

"Gus said I couldn't be a Master, too," he said quietly. Pikachu looked at Ash, having never hard that there had been another talk like this. "He sounded like it sort of consumes you. I guess Pokémon training can be like a drug."

"Or a power-trip," she smiled. "Let becoming a Master be a goal now, but not for the rest of your life. You'll end up alone otherwise. And being alone is terrible. That's why there's always the Ghostly Trio, and, in some cases, a Quartet. And don't ever give up on something, even if you made the worst mistake in your life. Life will go on, forever."

Ash grinned. "You know, when you're not goofing, you're quite the philosopher, Irus."

"Pi."

She whirled around and slapped her hands across both their mouths playfully. "Shhhh, just don't tell everyone. Jeez, I'll lose my reputation that I worked on for so long. But some things I just can't goof on."

"We won't," he grinned. Pikachu nodded.

Irus backed up, shaking her head and smiling hopelessly. "Don't ask me why, but I like you, Ash. I do."

"I kinda got that impression when I woke up with you," he said tentatively. Pikachu almost fell off his shoulder from surprise.

"Ka?"

She looked confused, then laughed. "Oh, that. That was just as experiment to see how you'd react. A bit different than other Trainers, I must say. I like to see how people react under different circumstances."

"Why?"

Shrugging, Irus stated, "It's . . . something that interests me. I don't know why, Ash. Come on. Let's get you to the contest or whatever it is. We've spent enough time gabbing."

Ash nodded and smiled. "Right."

They walked in silence for a few turns of the corridor, until finally reaching the Great Doors. Then Irus looked at him. "I won't go any further, Ash, but I wish you luck." Then she removed Pikachu from his shoulder. Pikachu looked at her indignant. "Sorry, little mouse, but this test is for him only, should he decide to take it. Not for the Pokémon. There is no audience allowed, save the givers."

"Ka," Pikachu whined.

Ash smiled. "Don't worry Pikachu. I'll be all right, even if I lose. I can always try again in the future. You know me, stubborn idiot and stuff."

Pikachu smiled at him, then crossed her fingers. "Pi, Pikapi!"

"Thanks. I'll need all the luck I can get, I think."

"Yes. Good luck, Ash." Irus bit her lip in thought. "You can win this test, okay?"

"You can win against everything."

"No, not everything," Irus countered, stepping closer to him to meet his eyes. She wasn't smiling anymore. "Not everything." Then, ever so lightly, she kissed him again, but pulled away before Ash could react on some absurd instinct to kiss back. "Good luck." And she turned and walked swiftly down the hall. Pikachu looked longingly over her shoulder.

"Um, thanks," he whispered, watching them retreat. Then he took a deep breath and looked at the doors, trying to summon the courage to open them . . .

. . . and enter Pooka Competition.

"Just do your best," he whispered to himself, then cracked the door open, sticking his head in. If this was a movie, there would have been that low fog on the ground, but this wasn't a movie. It was just a giant room that was empty, and he slipped in slowly, closing the door as quietly as possible. It still made an ominous boom.

"Hello?" he called as loudly as he dared. Loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that it disturbed the air of the room.

No one answered, and Ash carefully started to walk into the center of the room, looking around. There was a skylight for the domed roof, and he could see the sky slowly starting to darken. He gulped and licked his dry licks nervously, surprising himself by still tasting blood. He looked at his hand and saw the traces of brown-red liquid. Damn, he must look like a mess. He had forgotten, for Irus hadn't acted any differently from his appearance.

He wiped his hand to try to get the dried pieces to flank off, not wanting to wipe his hand against the robe. Silly, because around the neck and front of the chest were already drops of his blood, but Ash just didn't want to ruin the robe. The room was large, he wasn't sure of the shape, and the tiny tiles on the floor were set in a spiraling circle outwards. Pillars were structured close to the wall, and between two a door. There were six doors in all, including the one he had entered through. They were all giant, ten feet tall, and on this side he could see faint intricate patterns. What, he wasn't sure, for the light was beginning to dim.

Wringing his hands nervously, Ash called again, "Hello? Gus? Anyone?"

Funny how nervous he was, Ash thought dimly, standing in place and turning slowly. Rarely was he this nervous before a battle before, but those times he had inkling of what to expect. This League . . . he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because he couldn't remember Ratwa clearly, and he was worried because of it. He didn't really know how these Leagues ran. But even still, Ash thought he shouldn't feel this nervous.

It was probably just League. It was kind of creepy when he thought about it, in this empty stone-cold building with its scratchy bare branches outside. He shivered because of a sudden chill, sniffing a bit. (That soup Gus had given him had done wonders for his cold, but now it seemed to be edging its way back.) The Trainers here were different too. At first glance they were friendly, but then something changed them. And then there was this air they held. It almost put his teeth on edge, almost.

"H-Hello!" he stuttered again, louder. He shrank a bit when his voice echoed against the walls. The acoustics weren't very good in this room. "Is anyone here? I—I'd like to battle, please!"

I'd like to battle, please. Damn, he never said that before, at least so tentatively. Normally he had just gone up to the Trainer and demanded the battle. Ash grinned a bit. Don't tell me I'm getting polite.

No, it probably was just that Gus had chewed him out a few hours prior for being such a poor Trainer. It was just the aftereffects of the words on his mind. It was nice thought, though, Ash smiled.

"Hello?"

"So you want to attempt Pooka?" quietly asked a voice behind his ear. Ash whirled as saw Gus standing there, a Pokéball held in his hand. The Pokéball wasn't like a normal Pokéball—red and white—nor one of the varieties of an apricorn Pokéball. It was like an incandescent dark color, he couldn't tell which, top and bottom. Ash could only tell it was a Pokéball by the release trigger.

"Yes."

Gus looked at him purposefully. "Have you asked whomever it is you have to?"

Ash opened his mouth, remembering that the large man had said they couldn't refuse him the battle, but then closed it. Gus must want something else. Who would have had to ask to battle here, if he had to ask permission? But he didn't have to ask permission. He just had to want to battle . . .

"I've decided I want to battle here," Ash said firmly.

Gus almost smiled, which was almost worse than when he didn't smile, somehow. "So you've asked yourself permission. Good. You must be willing to be aware of what you are getting yourself into, and that you're responsible." He threw the Pokéball up in the air, then caught it.

What kind of Pokémon's in the Pokéball? Ash wondered, but didn't ask. Gus seemingly heard the question.

"Inside this Pokéball is the most feared thing of all." He held in on the tips of his fingers next to his cheek. "Do you know what it is, Ash?"

"No," Ash admitted.

"What are you afraid of, Ash?" Gus asked quietly.

He shrugged. "I don't know. A lot of things, I guess, but I don't really know."

"Why not?"

"I just never thought about it." Ash paused. "That's bad, right?"

"A Trainer should know what he's afraid of, and what his Pokémon are afraid of." Gus studied Ash. "Why are you training, Ash? Why are you training this way?"

"This way?"

Gus locked eyes with Ash. "You know of one thing you're afraid of. That's why you're training here. Why else would you train with such dedication?"

"How does that have to do with what I'm afraid of?" Ash asked harshly.

The Trainer didn't answer. Instead he held the ball out. "What is in this ball?"

"Is that the test, to figure it out without opening it? To guess?"

"No, of course not. That would be a waste of my immeasurable time." Gus smiled, bringing the ball back. Then he turned and set it on a small pillar-like table. Ash blinked.

"Where'd that table come from?" he asked Gus. "I mean, it wasn't here when I came in. Was it?"

"I wouldn't know. It always was in here for me." Gus looked down at Ash. "I will teleport out of here, and then the test will begin."

"What do I do?"

"Well, you can do nothing and not take the test, or you can open the Pokéball."

"And then what?"

Gus smiled. "I never saw."

"You never saw your own test?" Ash asked incredulously.

He chuckled lightly, looking past Ash. "This was never my test. My test happened years ago. I faced my fear, the greatest fear you can ever face, in my opinion. I still face it, everyday."

It would have been rude to ask what Gus what he was afraid of, so Ash didn't. But he was curious. What would Gus be afraid of? Ash couldn't imagine what. He didn't look like he'd fear anything. Maybe hate everything, but not fear it. Of course, sometimes if you hate something you fear it as well.

"I'll be back when the bell tolls."

Ash titled his head carefully, studying the dark Pokéball. "Do you have any idea of what I have to do, Gus? Or am I supposed to walk in blind and figure it out myself?"

Gus grinned slightly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose maybe once you open the Pokéball and release whatever is in there—if anything—maybe you simply have to get it to return to the state which you found the Pokéball. By first toll." And suddenly he disappeared. He must have had a Pokémon on him.

Ash looked at the Pokéball, carefully picking up the ball and rolling it in his hands. The most feared Pokémon was in this ball? What was it? Ash smiled, imagining that it was Barney or something similar. He'd run screaming from the room like the next sane person.

No, be serious, he chided himself.

What would he have to do once the Pokémon was free? Ash frowned. What could he do? How could he battle it?

Sighing, he looked at the ball closely, inspecting it for any writings on the cover that could allude to what was inside. There weren't any, the cover as smooth as possible.

Ash looked up through the skylight. It was dark, and it didn't matter what would happen. The test wouldn't be dangerous, no matter what the Trainers hinted at, because that was against proceedings for every League. (At least, every League he had gone to, Ash amended.) He bit his lip nervously, holding the Pokéball closely.

He took a deep breath, then held the ball so his index finger could click the button to release the Pokémon. He didn't bother calling its release or doing the pose and throwing it, as it was a little "childish." Miriam had laughed her rear off when he had done it the first time, then proceeded to go on about men and their "idiotic macho appearances".

The ball opened, and nothing happened. Ash blinked, looking around for the Pokémon that should have been released. There was none. There hadn't even been the usual red energy dispersed. With a perplexed look on his face, he turned over the empty ball, looking inside at the mechanics. There was a flicker of light, and he touched it with his finger, suddenly extinguishing the energy. Had it always been empty?

"What kind of test is this?" Ash muttered, looking at the orb critically while he snapped it shut.

The most feared Pokémon . . . was Nothing?

No, Gus never said there was a Pokémon in the ball, Ash thought slowly, stuffing the ball in his left pocket. He just said that it held the most feared thing. Ash had just assumed it was a Pokémon. Miriam always said never to assume, because it made an "'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'".

He sighed, stuffing his hand in the pocket and twirling the miniature Pokéball in his fingers. There had to be something more than this, just to open a Pokéball holding an unknown Pokémon, didn't there?

Suddenly he heard an impatient tapping behind him. (Gee, everything came from behind him, ya notice?)

O-okay, so there was more. Slowly Ash turned, preparing to face the Pokémon. And then he gasped when he saw what was in front of him.

****

Ash covered his ears and shrank into the wall, desperately trying to block out the accusations, but the cries still found home in his ears, his mind, his conscience. "Please," he whimpered, his bottom lip bleeding from a punch that had been thrown. "Stop it."

The figures paid him no heed, still screaming. There were more now, and Ash didn't know where they could have come from. He couldn't even see the Grand Whatever-Room anymore, the surroundings swimming in the darkness of the mind. Even the . . . the things screaming at him were barely seen physically by him, but they hung heavily in the front of his mind. Ash didn't have to have his eyes open to see them. Even with his eyes closed, it was like they actually were open. He could see them! He could have been blind and he'd have seen them, deaf and he could have heard them . . .

A very, very small and quiet part of Ash told him that this meant they weren't real, that they couldn't be real. They had to be a Pokémon, a strong Psychic type. This was just part of the test, that he had to face his fears, conquer them or something.

It was one thing to face your fears. It's another to actually Face your fears.

But how could he face these fears?

"You're not real!" he wanted to shout, but what good was that? He had to believe it, along with the apparitions. In both areas the truth would have a hard time sinking in. Oh, Ash knew they weren't real, at least part of him did, but how can you face a perfect copy—sight, smell, voice, stance, actions, flaws all exact—of everyone you had ever known and say that they weren't real.

Ash shuddered in his tight ball, still trying to block out the cries they screamed incessantly. They were half-truths, which made them all the worse. Any lie that has basis in Truth is ever the blackest of lies, as someone was said. Suddenly he saw the movement and pushed himself away as the attack smashed the wall into bits. These weren't friendly fears he faced. They fought, fought hard to dictate his actions, wounding him physically and mentally, making him unable to fight back. These were those kind of fears. Ash wasn't afraid of the dark, well, not dark as in absence of light. But this was truly Dark that ran at him, although extremely tiny.

It was Endallah—Death. Ash was too young to be afraid of dying, too young to be decently afraid of things that were dangerous. He was still at the age when "It won't happen to me" or "You worry too much" sayings were in his head and out of his mouth. Even in this line of work, in Pokémon training, Ash didn't fear Death or Danger like older and more experienced Trainers did. That fear usually took hold around twenty-five, should one last that long in serious Pokémon training, not as in Gym Leaders or such. As in Trainers who went out every day of their lives and swam with Tentacruel, gathered Electrodes, were around dangerous, wild Pokémon that hated Trainers with their whole beings. That was Training. Yet Ash knew he could die, so he did fear it, minutely.

It may seem funny, but Ash was afraid of Pokémon. Not of how he feared Pyro, but the respective fear all Trainers have, or should have, in his opinion. Ash was perfectly aware that any Pokémon, should it really, really want to, could kill him easily. Humans were comically weak in comparison. That's why rogue Pokémon were so dangerous, why this hemisphere of the world feared them so much. (It was so much easier to fear them than to understand them, Ash thought sarcastically.) If any Pokémon of his ever wanted to, they could take off and leave. Ash couldn't really do anything expect "order" them to stay. No amount of Training could ever earn the Pokémon's respect for the Trainer if the Pokémon didn't want to give it out. The Pokémon had to want to stay, to battle, to train, to listen, to be friends. Some Trainers never understood that, which is why they didn't get that far. It seriously brought their castles in the air crashing down with lightening speed, hence leveling the playing field, when they found out the Pokémon had more power than the Trainer ever would have. Yet this wasn't Ash's major fear. Maybe one of the minor ones that the big ones kicked around, but nothing he lost much sleep on.

Yet one of his greater fears did involve Pokémon, his Pokémon, the very mirror of the ones that dived at him now, and he tried to avoid. That they'd leave him because he wasn't good enough, that they'd join some other better Trainer (Gary), that they'd died because of some accident or negligence on his part. A monstrous copy of Pikachu was screaming at him that he was a lousy Trainer and that she hated him, that they all did, that it was his fault they all died. Sometimes he did worry Pikachu would do that, both awake and asleep, when he made an order of attack. Was this the best way? Would she turn on him and attack him?

Pokémon Rights Activists had strong grounds under this, and it was their sole purpose of existence to destroy every League around. You never saw it on TV, but at every League Game they were there with their signs and slogans, picketing up and down, up and down, up and down. And, Ash admitted, they had a good cause, just not a good basis. Pokémon were not being exploited, used, or placed in endangering situations, at least not deathly ones. P.R.A.Y.—Pokémon Rights Are Yearned—members didn't understand that Trainers (well, the majority of them) take every precaution to make sure the situations they placed their Pokémon in weren't outrageously dangerous. They wanted all Pokémon returned to the wild, "It's where they long to belong;" Pokémon Leagues disbanded, "Forcing the Fight is not right;" and Trainers jails or fined, "Overlords they are, and they've gone too far!" (Yes, the slogans were very, very lame.) You couldn't study Pokémon, own Pokémon, breed Pokémon, nurse Pokémon, nothing under their rules because it wasn't natural. The only way they would win would be if some terrible Pokémon-related catastrophe happened, like if Pokémon ran amok or killed the President or something like that took place Most of members were harmless. A Trainer just had to worry about getting beamed by one of their signs or the "stray" tomato that suddenly sprouted wings; the members were harmless. Most of them . . .

"Hey, what are you doing!? Stop that!"

"So, Ash, you'll learn what you do is wrong."

"What are you talk—Hey, what is that! Get away! GET AWAY! OW!"

"You must understand, the Leagues must be destroyed."

"W-w-what?!"

That's why Ash was afraid of them. They were something that could stop the Leagues from being run, keep Trainers from raising Pokémon. Of course, that would never happen, Ash knew it, so he wasn't afraid of that. He was afraid of the methods some of them used. Ash could dimly remembered a few years back with Brock and Misty, meeting the first P.R.A.Y extremists. He couldn't forget their names, ever—Dick and Jane. Two extremely normal names for two extremely extreme extremists. You'd never peg either for that kind of hobby, Jane with her brown eyes and brown ponytail, and Dick with his short blond hair and blue eyes. They looked like stamp collectors.

"What is that stuff!"

"It'll level the playing field for you Ash."

"What playing field?"

"Don't play ignorant. You will finally understand how Pokémon are truly treated!"

"What are you talking about! And what have you done with Pikachu, you . . . thieves!"

"She is now free from under your dictatorship."

"I never had dictatorship over her! I don't even know what that word means!"

He shuddered under the mockery of their image, remembering their methods to show Trainers—him—the Truth: "freeing" Pikachu from his ownership, using methods they believed to show how Pokémon were treated, forcing the other "deluded" Pokémon to watch and see what Trainers put them through, so they could really understand. It hurt, a lot, so much that his friends and Officer Jenny could hear his screams across town. The pain in his side, legs, and arms suddenly returned anew. Ash thought the implants had dissolved long ago. Dick and Jane had gotten away before the police had arrived, once his Pokémon forced themselves through the door and turned on the two. Ash'd had to spend a week in the hospital, most of the time in a coma.

The fears dived one at a time, most of the time managing to damage him in so way, shape, or form. Yet as Ash attempted to block attacks from his friends—Misty's mallet looked so much bigger, and so was her mouth, and the words were even sharper—another copy attacked. He was outnumbered greatly, and the Pikachu copy bit his ankle just as Ash punched himself.

Everyone is afraid of themselves, of what they could be. Ash was no different, struggling to fight the Trainer he never wanted to become, the one that P.R.A.Y. members struggled to destroy. The boy who would stop at nothing to win, who'd hurt everyone. Ash knew he was already closer to that Ash than he wanted. Suddenly another Ash appeared alongside the other, the beaten and destroyed one, the one who never got anywhere in the world because he was useless, not needed, alone, without Pokémon, family, or friends. Ash shuddered. He never wanted to be alone in the world, never. The two nodded at each other, conspiring something. Ash—the real Ash—couldn't decide which he feared more: Ash the Ruthless, or Ash the Failure.

Ash collapsed to his knees from the dual punch. It seemed the stronger the fear, the greater the attack and the more helpless he was against them. These two were great fears that Ash never admitted to having until now, and it made them stronger. What was even worse was that Ash felt himself losing the ground. These things weren't real, they weren't, but they suddenly seemed very real as someone gripped his hair, bringing back his head to allow another's foot connected with his face perfectly.

But why was he fighting all these minor fears? They really were minor compared to his real fear, and he knew what it was. As if answering his mental worry, the others drew back so others could come forward. He stared looked up at the figure near the back, the one that towered over the others. That must mean it was his greatest fear. He didn't need to see the face to recognize it . . . them.

"Kill him," one shrugged indifferently, talking on a cell phone. It gave the effect of being kicked in the stomach to Ash.

The other voice was even colder. "Never loved him anyway. Just a worthless piece of crap. Waste of my time."

"Everyone's," the other corrected bitterly. "He's none of mine."

Ash clutched his ears and sobbed. "Don't say that . . .!"

Suddenly one delivered a kick right to his face that sent him flying. "Shut up, you stupid, spoiled brat! I hate you! I hate you, Ash Satoshi Ketchum! We both do! Just die!"

He hit the wall hard and crumbled, only able to curl into a ball. His bleeding lip trembled. "No . . ."

They both spoke the words in the same sinister cold whisper. "Die."

****

Ash could only cower under the attacks now. He was gone, lost.

Suddenly two enormous green eyes blinked in his damaged view. "Gi gip?" GipSi tilted her head curiously, studying the fallen boy, oblivious to the attacks around her that still pounded the child. His fall and crying had awoken her from her slumber, although by all rights she would have woken up now anyway. She nosed closer. "See?"

He closed his eyes and cried harder.

GipSi sat back on her hunches, puzzled. She looked around the room and saw nothing that caused her alarm, aside from the damaged condition of the boy, and she chittered quizzically. Her huge eyes blinked.

"See gip? GipSi?"

He flinched like he had been kicked.

She frowned, worried. This boy had saved her life, and she felt indebted to him. Nothing should harm a boy that nice. She scampered forward and touched a cut the scraped his forehead. GipSi blinked in surprise and yanked her paw back to stare at the sticky red substance. She had never seen blood before, not human blood. Interested, she gave it an experimental lick.

"Gip!" she gagged and shook wildly to remove the taste from her mouth. She ran her paws against the side of her, ignoring the fact that it only spread the blood further along her face. That taste—yeww! She did the as close to the Human equivalent to shuddering her shoulders. No wonder the blood stayed on the inside.

Still undergoing the foul taste on her tongue, GipSi edged closer again to Ash. He was still shaking and murmuring something she didn't understand. She touched his cheek gently, but avoided the blood.

"Gip?" He shrank from something. It wasn't her, GipSi could tell, and she twitched her tail. Poor boy, she thought. Me help. (How, GipSi wasn't exactly sure, but it's the thought that counts.) And slowly, touching his forehead, she allowed her eyes to glow bright.

Ash gasped deeply, suddenly in shock.

****

The images went through his brain at stomach turning speed.

He was flying, no falling, but laughing as the while. He wasn't afraid. He didn't know how and he didn't have to be. There was no reason to be, because he couldn't get hurt.

"Careful!" someone yelped, but laughed as well.

"Fly like a Pidgeot, Ash!"

"And you said you'd never remember Pokémon! Give him here before you drop him!"

"I wouldn't drop him! Come on, Ash! Fly! We'll always catch you!"

Something else ran by. "Did my little Pumpkin fall and get a boo-boo? Let Mommy kiss it all better. There, too? And there? My, a lot of little boo-boos, huh?"

They shifted, faster and faster. "Ash, you may be stupid, hot-head, idiotic, dense—"

"Hey!"

"But you're a good Trainer."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Pikapi! Pikachu pika pikachu pika!"

"You've gotten better Ash, I'll admit that. Just how much, we'll have to battle and decide."

"Good match, Ash."

"Ash, just call if you need to, all right? We care about you, even Gary. We'll always be here."

They swirled like soup, a thick broth of memories. But how and why?

"GIP!"

Ash jerked his eyes open and sat up with a start, forgetting about the pain. GipSi jumped back in surprise, then started to scold him in her rapid speech that he had no chance of understanding. The apparitions were still around, still attacking.

He looked up at them. The memories were suddenly leaving him, and he shrank back into his ball. Why?

GipSi looked at Ash, then leaped over to him to sit at his feet. Why was he afraid? She turned to look at the space behind her. What was there to be afraid of? "Gippy gip seesee?"

"Get them away!"

"See gip? Ip see gip, see ip see."

"What?" Ash raised his head to look at the fluff ball. Why couldn't she just go away? He was having a major crisis here . . .

. . . and doing nothing about it . . .

"SEE GIP!" she scolded, waving her paw—it seemed to him—at the creatures behind her.

Ash touched his tender lip, watching the little Pokémon fume at him for no apparent reason. With his mind fixed on her, the monsters around him suddenly took the back seat. Why were her eyes glowing?

Suddenly something yanked Ash up by the collar and off the floor several feet, and Ash found himself cowering in the presence of Killer Ash. The eyes were mad. "Wouldn't you like to be like me?" the thing whispered.

No, no I don't! his mind screamed. I won't!

"Hmm? You will be, you know."

"No," Ash whimpered.

The mockery smiled. "I killed Pikachu first," it whispered happily. "Bare hands. She just didn't want to listen."

He was going to kill Pikachu? No, no, no! Ash felt himself crying. He would never, ever harm Pikachu! Never! "No! I won't!"

"Yes, you will."

Ash looked at himself, narrowing his eyes. "I. Won't!" And he drew back his arm and punched the lie as hard as he could. Suddenly he collapsed to the ground heavily. The . . . the lie was gone. Disappeared. Ash glared at the rest of them, at the other Ash. He was never going to be that! Never!

He dived.

****

Ash wiped his bloodied lip. If he couldn't actually destroy the fear, he'd force himself to understand that only he made them possible. He looked at the mockery of his parents, the only thing that was left. They floated quietly, insults gone. Their "son" was hurting them, like he always had. The satisfied smiles were on their faces. He fingered the Pokéball in his pocket.

This was different than facing the other fears, because these were his parents. You can't just punch them, deny their existence. Ash admitted that. This might actually be something to fear, but how truthful? He would never not love his parents. Could they really not love him? Ash doubted it. (And he prayed.)

But what was the point of letting it get this far, this strong of a hold? Ash gritted his teeth and gripped the Pokéball.

"You're not real," he said slowly.

"Aren't we?" the father mused dangerously.

"You're not. My parents won't stop loving me. Never."

His mother smiled sardonically, so unlike her. "Keep telling yourself that." She paused. "But yet I don't see you going home, Ash. You know it's true."

Ash took a deep breath. "If it is, so be it. I deserve it. But I won't believe it until I see it."

"That's why you won't go home. So you can believe the lie."

"Go home and face it. You'll find we're right."

"You're right?" Ash repeated. "Shouldn't it be that 'I'm right,' Father?" He shook his head, throwing back his arm. "Return!"

The red light from the Pokéball escaped, and the figures melted into one. And, as a parting word, the Pokémon asked softly, "What if you return too late?"

The ball clanged to the floor. Ash leaned up against the wall and slowly slid down. That hit a nerve, a terrible point. But no, if one thing he learned, unfound fears like that wouldn't control him. He closed his eyes, suddenly tired, and allowed himself to fall blissfully into sleep.

It wasn't dreamless.

The Pokéball rolled out of his hand . . .

****

The bell tolled so many long hours later . . .

Gus entered softly, listening to the quiet sounds of someone breathing. He stopped and picked up the dark orb, pocketed it, then continued to find the source of the breathing. Ash was against the wall, still in deep sleep. He tapped the boy gently with his toe.

Ash blinked his eyes. "Huh?"

"So you passed," Gus whispered, kneeling down and studying the boy. It had not been easy, it looked. The bruises and blood, even in his hair, were everywhere. The robe was ripped heavily.

"I did?" Gus nodded. "GipSi—"

"I know," he interrupted, watching as Ash winced, feeling for the lump in his pocket. "It doesn't matter."

"But there aren't supposed to be Pokémon. Just me," Ash got out slowly, looking at his hands. They were covered in blood, and he wondered if it was his, or something else's.

Gus looked at Ash, critiquing him. "There is no such rule."

"But Irus . . ."

"No rules." Gus paused, seeing Ash still unconvinced. "And what did GipSi do, Ash?"

He shrugged painfully. "I don't know."

"She didn't battle. She helped, true, but not to the extent of breaking a rule. GipSi didn't see what you saw, only that you needed help. She didn't help you win the battle. She just . . . helped you."

Ash blinked slowly at Gus. "What Pokémon was that?"

"That wasn't a Pokémon, Ash." Gus stood up, then held out a hand to help Ash up as well. He had to support the boy a bit, and carefully started to walk out of the room through another door.

"It wasn't?"

"No."

"But . . . but it went in a Pokéball," Ash countered softly. "If it wasn't a Pokémon, what was it?"

Gus didn't answer, and they walked in silence. They already entered a room. "Sit down, Ash."

Ash collapsed in a chair, watching Gus move around slowly. The Pokéball was placed on a stone shelf. The room was dark and felt like a tomb. Did Gus spend all his time here?

"Remove your robe," Gus ordered, walking back over.

Easier said than done, but Ash painfully got the robe over his head. Gus studied his wounds. "I thought Pokémon Leagues couldn't hurt Trainers," he murmured.

"But yet we can hurt Pokémon that battle?" Gus countered, and that silenced any argument from Ash. If Gus was going to play the eye-for-an-eye card, there was no way Ash could really win. "Hold still." And slowly his eyes started to glow purple. Ash watched, slightly amazed and the wounds closed up, leaving only trace scars from some of the large cuts.

"How?"

"Do you know why the GipSies call us the Keepers?" Gus asked, taking the robe. He reached in the pocket and withdrew a still sleeping GipSi.

"No," Ash admitted, watching spellbound as Gus petted the creature. "You're not going to hurt her?"

He looked up quickly, surprised, and saw Ash's worry. Gus gave him a reassuring smile, stroking the Pokémon's soft fur. She stretched out slightly but did not wake. "Of course not. I have no time or interest for the vendetta against them." He set her on a pillow. "She is very strong. Stronger than many GipSies."

"Really?"

Gus locked eyes with Ash. "Yes. That's why she's still alive. Gengar would have killed her if she wasn't. He does hate them with a passion." He didn't continue his explanation of why Gengar hated them, picking up Ash's robe. "Did you know a GipSi doesn't learn any of the psychic attacks they are known for until Level 120?" Ash shook his head. "So just image how high she is, Ash. Just imagine." Slowly the threads started to reweave themselves. "I find it hard to believe that she isn't the clan leader, but apparently the GipSies find no special favors for their strongest, but for members. She is more of the outsider, having join the clan recently after the last clan—her clan—was completely desecrated by Gengar."

"How are you doing that?" Ash asked, watching the magic of the fabrics weaving like a mass of Ekans.

"Why do you think the GipSies call us the Keepers?" Gus asked, folding the fabric over his arms.

Ash shrugged. "You run the League? Take care of it?"

Gus smiled. "Very good. I'm not a Pokémon Trainer, nor will I ever be qualified to be one. I lack in one very essential area."

Ash felt like he was missing something. "What?"

Suddenly Gus disappeared, revealing a Gastly in his place. "Most Leagues like the Trainers to be at least Human. Very Species-ist, if you ask me." Ash looked blankly at the Ghost.

"Y-y-you're a Ghost? Why are you running Pooka?" But Pokémon couldn't be Trainers . . . could they? Ash paused, thinking about the question. Why not?

Ghastly smiled at Ash's reaction, returning to his Human form. "All the 'Trainers' here are Ghosts. No Human had run the League for many centuries. My Trainer was the last to . . . die. I couldn't just leave and let all this die as well, so I stayed. I was the only one. The other Ghosts moved in a few years ago, but I am the one in charge. They accept that, for the most part. Although sometimes I must reconvince them of the fact. Painfully." He petted GipSi again.

Ash wondered how high of a Level Gus was at, and yet still hadn't evolved into a Haunter. "But why?"

"Why what, Ash?" Gus asked lightly. "Why stay? I have to. I owe it to my Trainer. Gastly are very loyal Pokémon, to the right Trainer, of course."

Ash looked at Gus. "What about the . . . thing that's in the Pokéball? What is it?"

Gus turned to look at the quiet orb. "Fear."

"What?"

He looked back at Ash. "You have heard of a soul, yes? What's in that Pokéball is a piece, more than a piece, for some, of all the Trainers that ran Pooka so many years ago. You fought them."

"How is that possible? Part of them?"

Sighing, Gus looked suddenly very old. "That isn't important," he said softly, closing his eyes as if to forgo the memory. He waved his hand. "You may leave now. Take the robe and GipSi, and walk straight out that door. You'll get there."

"Gus?" Ash looked at the Pokéball, then the Pokémon. "Did y—?" Gus opened his eyes and stopped the words dead in Ash's throat.

"Ash, I am a Pokémon. I obey my orders. I did nothing not commanded. I did not do that."

Ash looked at him, picking up his robe. "Does saying that really help?" he asked quietly. It didn't for him.

Gus' eyes darted between Ash and the Pokéball. "You know the answer. Go. Your friends will be here in a few hours."

He nodded, turned towards the door, but stopped just at the door. "Gus, thank you."

Gus merely closed his eyes and steepled his fingers, making it look like he was praying deeply. Ash hoped it wasn't for forgiveness, or to forgo the memory. The man . . . Pokémon sat in the position, not moving, and Ash slowly shut the door as softly as possible.

He leaned heavily against the door, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Whatever the Trainer had ordered, Ash hoped he never found out. He hoped that no other Gastly or Pokémon could ever repeat the ability, for the sake of the Pokémon. And any Trainer who ordered his Pokémon to do that should never had done that, leaving their Pokémon with that kind of guilt, the guilt of murder. That was worse that abandonment.

No . . . that was abandonment . . .

****

"I think you went a little too far, Miriam," Shamin said reproachfully.

"Ya can never go to far dealin' with him," Miriam snapped.

"It didn't work, though."

"I know that!"

Hunter grinned at them from the ground about twenty feet below, apparently enjoying the fact that his arm was broken. "Nice try! Good show!" Then he looked away. "We're almost there."

"About time," Miriam snarled from the log bridge.

The troupe walked, Hunter making one-sided conversation happily. Shamin kept glancing at his arm, the piece of bone sticking out. It made her sick.

"Batter up!" a girl yelled just as a large building loomed in their view.

"I wanna play!" Hunter yelled, running ahead, leaving his bag behind in the snow, arm suddenly healed.

Miriam and Shamin looked at each other, then followed quickly. They stopped when they reached the fight. (Miriam stopped because Hunter threw a snowball in her face.)

"Shan!" Shamin yelled, seeing the boy just walking out the door. Pikachu was just in front of him.

"Hey," he smiled waving, stepping down the steps. His pack was already loaded, and he was in his normal clothes.

Miriam stormed over, reaching into her pack. Ash looked at her a little fearfully. "Here," she grunted. "Put this on. Ya'll catch yar death otherwise."

Ash looked at the hat in her gloved hand. "Um . . . Thanks." He put it on carefully, making sure his face was perfectly blank and biting his tongue to keep any remarks about the cap from escaping.

"Ya too, Rodent," Miriam snapped, tossing down the socks. Pikachu looked at the Pokka-dotted fabric critically, but, under Miriam's glare, put them on her ears and proceeded to ignore Pyro's laughter.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry," Ash started.

"No, we're sorry," Shamin countered.

"It was my fault."

"Ours."

Miriam looked at the two as they continued this way for some time. "Shut up. All right, shut up! We all were stupid. Forget it."

Ash took a step back. "What's wrong with her?"

"Hunter," Shamin sighed, pointing to the man. "He's very . . . annoying."

"Oh."

"Excuse me?" Ash turned to see Gus standing up at the doors, holding a piece of cloth. "You may have this."

Ash walked up the stairs carefully and unfolded the cloth. It was like the tapestries he had seen in the hall, except with him. And now he could see the swirls, what they were. He quickly folded it up. "Thanks, Gus."

Gus smiled. "Ash, why don't you get a room for the Winter, some nice jobs?" He nodded towards the girls. "The world does not revolve around you. It revolves around something much more important."

"Yes." He nodded. "Good idea."

"When it is warmer, you can go to Ossature. It is a very simple League to enter. Under the right guidance, very moving. Of course, it hasn't been guidanced well enough since Josh Thomas stopped his personal dealings."

"How do I get there?"

"I'll teleport you to a town." Gus smiled, seeing Ash's less-than amused face at his response. "Ossature is several weeks travel from anywhere around here, hidden in old caverns, both natural and man- and Pokémon-made. I went there . . . years ago, with my Trainer." Gus' voice was suddenly very quiet. "It was very beautiful, I thought." He shook his head to remove memories. "Anyway, I think you'll do rather well, just by what I see of you."

Ash smiled, starting down the stairs. Then he paused and turned. "Gus, thank you."

"For what?" the Pokémon asked softly.

"For . . . for running the test still, I guess."

"You guess?" Gus sighed, looking over the snow landscape. "Ash, please learn to chose your words better. You wound so deeply, and so unintentionally."

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "Really. It's just that this test . . ." He trailed off, unable to find words.

"It does make you think, re-evaluate your life a bit, doesn't it?" Gus agreed softly. "But Ash, it's not meant to tell you to forgo fear, not to listen to it. Just not to be controlled by it."

"Does what I saw have any . . . truth?"

"I can't answer that. I don't know what goes on in your little brain."

Ash smiled weakly. "Neither do I."

"Then you have a definite problem, Trainer Ash."

"Maybe if I don't know what I plan to do, neither will the other Trainers," Ash countered.

"Don't get into a physiological debate with me," Gus chuckled. "I will wipe the floor with you. I am the Ghost Master of Fear. If I were to battle you, I would win."

"I know. But for how long will you be able to say that?" Ash grinned, walking back down the stairs. "Someday I'll be a Master . . . of Something," he added, remembering both Gus' and Irus' views on becoming a Master.

"I will be willing to bet even when you are a Master I will beat you," Gus called. "Because, Trainer, not of my level, but because of my Trainer."

Ash paused, looking back as Gus. "What?"

"A fair warning to you. If you continue, be prepared for even more dangerous fears, without a GipSi to help," he murmured, turning to re-enter the building.

He looked at Gus, slowly returning to his friends and Pokémon. "Who's that?" Shamin asked.

"Just . . . a Trainer." Who said Pokémon couldn't be Trainers? Not me. Ash smiled brightly at them. "How would you all like to get a room for the rest of Winter?"

Miriam acted like the magic words had been spoken. Her foul mood dropped. "Really?" Ash nodded. "Yes, oh, yes. Definitely."

"Hey," Irus smiled, suddenly coming up with Hunter at her side. Both were covered in snow. "Guess this is good-bye."

Ash shrugged, grinning. "Nice meeting you, Irus. Sorry I couldn't meet you too, Hunter."

"No ya're not," Miriam muttered as Hunter extended his hand for Ash to shake. "Don't take the hand. Trust me. Don't." Ash listened, mentally working the name Hunter into his mind, rolling it around until the name transformed into Haunter.

"You too. We'll teleport you to a nice city, no walking," Irus informed the girls.

"How?" Shamin asked.

Miriam didn't ponder on details. "Yes!" Then she paused, looking at Hunter. "I'll never meet ya again, right?"

"Probably not," he chirped.

She grinned evilly. "Then I wanna give ya somethin'." She held out her arms like she was going to give a hug. "Come 'ere."

Hunter grinned and walked over. But, with lightening-quick reflexes after the hug, Miriam brought her knee straight up in a perfectly aimed kick. Ash even winced. And, probably for the first time in his time as a Human, Hunter felt real pain.

"It's been nice knowin' ya," Miriam smiled, her satisfied grin on her features.

"Jolly good show," he squeaked, still holding himself.

Irus laughed, along with Shamin. (Ash found he really couldn't laugh, making a mental note never to truly piss Miriam off.) Shamin looked at Irus. "Well, thanks for watching out for him."

"My pleasure. He was great company. Real warm in bed."

Shamin's eyes went wide as Irus grinned wickedly. "Oh," she got out. Even Miriam raised her eyebrow at that, looking between the two.

"You'll like him."

"Irus," Ash pleaded, his cheeks slightly reddening. Shamin took it the wrong way, jaw open and looking between the two.

"You . . . and, and . . . you . . .?"

Miriam crossed her arms. "This I have a hard time believin'."

Irus grinned mischievously, suddenly moving over to give Ash a deep kiss. And, heaven help him, Ash kissed back. Hey, it wasn't everyday a beautiful girl/Pokémon kissed him.

"Huh?" Shamin got out. Miriam just stood there with an extremely blank look on her face.

Slowly Irus pulled away, the impish grin on her features. Ash grinned. "Misdreavus."

"I think I'm spending too much time in this form," she whispered, kissing him again. Then she pushed away, winking slightly. "Good bye."

Shamin looked at him, still open-mouthed. Ash merely shrugged at her, grinning idiotically.

And suddenly, they were in an alley.

"You slept with that TRAMP!" Shamin screamed at him. Ash merely smiled, bringing his hands behind his head and whistling a small tune. "Miriam!"

"I am not getting' into this," Miriam said evasively. "But, ya shouldn't say tramp like it's a bad thing."

Ash grinned. "Yeah. You are traveling with one, and you shouldn't insult her."

"Looks like two!" Shamin snapped.

"Gip?" GipSi suddenly stuck her head out of Ash's pack.

"It's one of them!" Miriam screamed dramatically, holding her pack protectively.

"Come on, guys," Ash sighed as GipSi leaped onto his head, chittering stupidly. "Let's go find a apartment."

"With runnin' water and a bath, three bedrooms, a balcony, and a nice kitchen," Miriam stated, still holding her pack very protectively from the tiny, and now very interested, thief.

Ash merely shook his head, taking the squirrel off his head so she couldn't leap towards Miriam, then looked at Shamin. "Any preferences?" She merely glared at him, and Ash shrugged, allowing Pikachu to crawl up his arm to sit on his shoulder. GipSi copied. "Ya know, Pikachu, this little group is sort of like that song title?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Pi?" He merely hummed a little tune and didn't continue.

POKÉDEX

Endallah—the Death Pokémon:

Those who are going to die are the only ones who can see a Pokémon of myth, Endallah. In most cases, usually directly preceding death, but some people claim to have seen her weeks prior. Usually portrayed as a Skeleton type Pokémon but able to shift appearances to look like a Human or otherwise, Endallah is considered, mythologically speaking, to be the most powerful Pokémon, for everything dies. Pokémon mythologists argue upon whether or not Endallah will die under her own scythe, as her purpose is to kill everything. You only meet Endallah once, for she does not make mistakes. She does not play games, battle for supremacy, or carry around hourglasses of people's lives. Those are just Romantic beliefs. [return]

Livonah—the Life Pokémon:

Endallah's counterpart, off-and-on lover, and rival, Livonah is the Bringer of Life, especially strong in the Spring. Although he always loses to his lover, Livonah continues to try and give mortals the few seconds more of Life. According to myth, the only way he could find to do that was to romantically delay Endallah from her Duty. Although he never succeed, he came very close once. Livonah knows very well that it will be Endallah who will kill him, although Pokémon mythologists claim that neither can possibly die, for where there's Life, there's Death; where there's Death, there's Life. He carries around a soft bell that, when rung, a life starts anew. Hence the saying, "The Ring in Spring." [return]