A/N: One minute I was comfortably deep in retirement from the world of fanfic writing, the next…this happened. I'm just as shocked as you are, trust me. Blame—and by blame, I mean thank profusely—my good friend MilkywayScribbles, whose unwavering inspiration and encouragement had much to do with it.
So here I am with another installment of my "Stars Fell on Pallet Town" universe. There are four stories preceding this one, all very long, written many, many years ago. Reading them is not a prerequisite for reading this, but you'll certainly have a better idea of who's who and what's what. Warning, though: This story is only firmly canon through the Silver Conference. That is what you must understand before carrying on. While I did continue to watch Pokémon briefly past that point, and some of the events following Johto may factor into Ash's history here, not all will, nor do. This is my vision of Ash Ketchum's future, and I'm sticking to it.
With that said, I hope you enjoy this little update on the Ketchum family!
Won't It Be Fine
By Spruceton Spook
At some point, sooner or later, he was going to have to go inside.
Ash sat in his parked car several yards from his childhood home, a mix of diverse emotions going to battle in his brain, tethering him back. Of course, nothing bad awaited him beyond the front door—at least, nothing anyone else would classify as bad. Still, why he was here, the reason he'd made the ninety-minute drive on one of the busiest days of his workweek, resulted in him lingering behind the wheel for far longer than an otherwise pleasant visit should have.
Despite his hesitancy (and to Ash's profound relief), his chest clenched in the anticipation of the surprise he was about to bestow upon his family. If he didn't get out soon, however, someone was bound to look out the window and catch sight of his highly recognizable blue car, ruining that undoubtedly special moment that was his main incentive at present.
There was another source of coaxing. In the passenger seat beside him, Pikachu's attention oscillated between his trainer and the house, confused about this unusual delay. Large bright eyes, encircled by coarse fur whitened by age, looked up at him as his ears twitched restlessly, raring to get out. It didn't go unnoticed by Ash even with all the inner conflict he was wrangling.
"Okay, Pikachu," he granted his pal finally, taking a deep breath and placing a hand on the pokémon's head. Whether it was more to calm Pikachu or steady his own nerves was unclear. "Let's go."
Pikachu finding his customary place atop his shoulder, Ash made his way up his front walk at a restrained pace, not dragging his feet but not exactly eager, either. It was silly, and he knew it. So this wasn't precisely how he'd envisioned this particular visit to play out. It didn't mean he couldn't be happy. It didn't mean all was lost.
Luckily, the front door was unlocked, allowing Ash to slip through furtively. The mouthwatering scent of charring meat immediately found his nose. Voices and movement could be heard from the kitchen, and in the face of his consternation, Ash grinned. His blood raced excitedly. Even if nothing else went his way that evening, seeing his family never failed to bring him joy.
Riley was the first to spot him. Ash had barely made eye contact with his younger brother through the kitchen entry before the boy, face lit with shock and exhilaration, launched himself noisily from his chair and barreled towards him. Having but a split second to brace for impact, Ash stumbled back a step as Riley crashed into his embrace. Pikachu was more alert to the impending contact and leaped to the refuge of a chair just in time.
"Ash! You made it! You're here!" Riley cried. Ash laughed, hugging his brother back and relishing in the fervent, almost desperate hold Riley had on him. His heart was bursting at the seams to have generated such a reaction.
"I'm here," he confirmed perkily. Riley drew back, panting as he gazed into Ash's face, awe still palpable in his wide brown eyes as he beheld his brother before him.
Ash could have reveled in that expression for ages, but managed to tear his attention away to glimpse the onlooker across the kitchen. Their mother was taking in the touching reunion silently, indulgently. Behind her, dinner grilled away on the stovetop, briefly forgotten. For every bit that Riley was thrilled, Delia looked thankful. They regarded each other wordlessly for a moment, and with just the slightest glimmer of tears in his mom's eyes, Ash couldn't believe how rewarded he felt at springing this appearance on them. Or how sickened he was with himself for ever considering finding a way to avoid it.
"Oh, Ash, I'm so glad you made it," Delia breathed. "You were so sure you weren't going to be able to."
"I worked it all out," Ash smiled softly. It was a partial truth. The fact was, he'd received the okay to take the time off from the gym over a week ago. No one, particularly Misty, would dare tell him he couldn't. But ashamedly, he hadn't let his family know that. The "working out" he'd really needed to do was with himself, coming to terms with the purpose of this call and how much it deviated from the vision he'd held on to since his brother came into his life nine years ago.
This was the eve of a big day for Riley. It just wasn't the big day Ash had expected.
However, Riley, none the wiser, had entreated for Ash to come, to encourage him, keep his stress in check, and just, well, see him, something Ash lamentably had little time for ever since he'd moved to Cerulean City to be with Misty and work fulltime at the gym and arena.
"Is Misty here?" Riley asked.
"She isn't, bud, I'm sorry," Ash shook his head. "She really wanted to come, but she couldn't leave the gym today. Fridays are crazy. Two shows tomorrow they have to get ready for."
"Can I come to a show again soon?" Riley offset his mild disappointment with another hopeful question.
"Of course, and Misty would love it if you would," replied Ash enthusiastically. He was so pleased that his little brother and his fiancée had such a close relationship. After his family, Ash couldn't think of anyone who adored Riley more than Misty. "You can even swim in the tank again! And spend the night!"
Riley looked elated at the suggestions, but a wrench was thrown in those premature plans. "We'll have to see how much time Riley has for stuff like that, I'm afraid," Delia said ruefully, hating to quash her sons' spirited prearrangements with the dose of reality.
At the reminder of the potentially demanding schedule Riley had in his near future, the boy slumped, though he looked more anxious than disheartened. His brother was already a very busy kid; Ash knew this from the many times he'd recently tried to find a break in either of their calendars to spend time together. Delia wasn't just speculating; Riley could only get busier, unfortunately.
Ash found he would have accepted that more readily if it was because Riley was to be away for months at a time catching pokémon and battling for badges, not because he was about to try out for the Kanto Region's highly-competitive, advanced division Little League team.
This day was imminent, no matter how much Ash wanted to deny it. Riley had been playing baseball since he was a toddler, something Ash had generally respected, as he had been into baseball himself before he'd ditched the casual pastime for his true calling. Surely, given his family's history and his exposure to the wonders of pokémon from the moment he was born, Riley was to follow the same path. To Ash's increasing awareness—and dismay—that just wasn't the case. No matter how much Ash (or his father) pushed the excitement of becoming a trainer, Riley had little interest in pokémon beyond enjoying the creatures as companions.
It was a blow—an exacerbating, crushing blow—to all the aspiration Ash had held over the idea of Riley sharing in his passion, tracing the same circuit Ash had taken, and Ash reliving it all with him, through him.
And yet, even on the day before Riley's enormously significant evaluations, when a squad of recruiting coaches would determine if his brother had what it took to progress to this more selective team, Ash still had faith that maybe, perhaps, Riley's mind would change, and in a year or so from now would be moseying up Professor Oak's walk with the intention of filing for his trainer's license.
In the meantime, the thought of coming to Pallet to watch his brother prepare for this tryout and satisfy Riley's need for support was almost too much for Ash to handle. Almost. In the end, he was there, he'd come, and he was determined to ensure Riley was emotionally ready for one of the most important days of his young life…Ash's disappointment be damned.
"Don't worry, Ri-Ri," Ash said, not wanting to spend one more second of this visit seeing his brother despondent in any way, "we'll figure it out. We'll get you back to Cerulean as soon as you have a couple days off."
Instead of an appreciative response, though, Riley's lips pursed in tetchiness, and Ash instantly knew why. "Pleaaasse quit calling me Ri-Ri!" he wailed beseechingly, and Ash threw his hands up in edgy defense.
"Sorry, sorry!" he chuckled, though fully meaning it. "It's hard to break a nine-year habit! Riley."
The boy huffed, accepting the apology. Ash smirked, reaching out to ruffle his dark hair, which was basically rubbing a bristly scalp as Riley kept it closely clipped. Riley ducked his head and batted his brother's hand away, and the two laughed.
"Well, I'm glad I listened to my gut and bought more steak than I was going to," Delia said, eyeing her eldest son over her shoulder as she went back to check on dinner. "Unless you've eaten already?"
The crazy look Ash shot his mother answered that question bluntly. "Even if I ate three minutes ago, you think I'm gonna turn down a meal from you?"
When Delia slouched and allowed a flattered smile at that argument, Ash at last made his way over to share a hug and kiss on the cheek with his mom. Her clasp around his back was only marginally less emphatic than Riley's.
"Where's Dad?" he asked, knowing Jay had taken the day off from work to ready Riley as best he could. Certainly, if he was around, he would have been lured to the kitchen by his family's boisterous reunion by this point.
"He went out to get ice cream," Delia replied, then snorted. "And beer."
Ash's teeth flashed in a colossal grin. "My two favorite things."
After a playfully disapproving tick of her head, Delia laid a loving hand on Ash's rough cheek. "Thank you for coming," she said quietly, and for a beat, Ash could have sworn she'd held a perceptive tone, as if she was on to him about his purported "scheduling conflict." It didn't matter, though; what he did to guide Riley through this evening was what was now the focus.
"Ash, come outside with me!" Riley said, already making a move for the back door. Standing around the kitchen chitchatting could only weather his impatience for so long.
"I'll be out there in a minute," Ash replied, raising a finger to request a quick intermission, "I just have to use the bathroom first."
Pikachu scampered over to Riley, who gladly accepted him into his arms. "Can I bring Pikachu out with me?"
Abso-freaking-lutely, Ash thought zealously, seeing Riley with Pikachu, or any pokémon, a veritable pleasure. He answered nonchalantly, however, "You sure can!"
"You have twenty minutes until dinner is ready!" Delia shouted the notice to Riley as the door banged shut behind him. Whether he heard it was questionable, and she sighed, turning to Ash. "Well, you know, at least."
Ash smiled and nodded in confirmation. There was no need for worry, though. No matter their diverse passions, there was one thing the Ketchum boys would forever have in common: the powerlessness to resist a homecooked meal.
Eager to join his brother in the backyard as soon as possible, Ash had made quick use of the bathroom. But it was the brilliance of the living room, bathed in sunshine at the onset of the golden hours of the afternoon, that brought him to a halt in his hustle back. Peacefulness filled him as he paused to take in the sight; it was always his favorite time of the day, and in his home especially. Almost on cue, as it had done many times throughout his teenage years, he felt his eyes droop slightly, the desire to nap effectively overriding any other feeling. How often had he given in to that, blithely dragging himself up to his room to doze until dinnertime? And why did he find himself suddenly heading in that very direction, despite his pressing engagement with Riley?
He wasn't going to nap, obviously—although when was the last time he'd had a really good nap? His bedroom was on his mind—his former bedroom, to be accurate—and although he wanted to get out to his brother, the temptation to take a peek was too much to defy. Swiftly yet silently, he ascended the stairs.
His—Riley's door was open, the same glorious light pouring through the frame and into the small hallway. Ash approached circumspectly, feeling ever so sneaky in this detour. It hadn't been his bedroom in over two years, yet he still couldn't help but feel a possession towards it. Too often he found himself wondering, what has Riley done to my room? Ash acknowledged he would have to do away with that mentality sooner or later...but today wasn't going to be that day.
He stole a discreet glance into the room before edging his way further across the threshold. There were some elements that were essentially unchanged from his childhood. The carpet and wall color were the same, most of the furniture had never been updated. It was back to being a single bedroom; Ash and Riley had shared the space for three years. It had only taken a short time, however, for Riley to make the room all his own.
Namely, most things that had to do remotely with pokémon had been substituted with baseball. Posters of star pitchers hung where there were once pokémon in dynamic battle poses. Riley's bedspread was baseball-themed, as was the collection of well-perused magazines stacked on his desk. The dresser still proudly displayed trophies and accomplishments, but gilded baseballs, not pokéballs, now topped them.
There were some pokémon items. Images and figurines of electabuzz abounded, but most were of the cartoonish mascot of Riley's favorite team. The scuffed pokéball-dotted switch plate by the door had neglected to be replaced. There was one more notable sighting that helped deliver a lift of delight to Ash's heart, though. It was the pikachu plush that he had gifted his little brother when Riley was three, nestled with sentimental purpose on the neatly-made bed.
This was not the bedroom of an aspiring pokémon trainer—that was for certain. Ash took a deep breath, processing the evidence before him. He had a large effort ahead: making it through this evening—and the subsequent years—without letting on to Riley the magnitude of his disenchantment.
Ash heard the floor creak and felt a presence ghosting behind him. Based on its placidity, it could only be his mother.
Sure enough, Delia leaned gently into Ash's space. Even at twenty-one, he couldn't successfully slink about without setting off her radar.
"Want to move back in for a while?" she asked with a tone of hopefulness. Ash knew the request was part, if not all, genuine.
Shaking his head but giving her a mollifying smile, he replied, "No…"
"So, what are you doing snooping in my son's room?" she teased.
Ash shrugged, his eyes continued to roam the bedroom. "I just like to see what's new in here, see how it changes…" His voice lowered reflectively. "He has it so different from how I had it…"
"Well, for one, it's neat. I prayed for years for a kid who'd keep his room tidy, and I finally got that."
Ash countered her impish crack with a harmless sidelong glare, at which she grinned. "Lots of baseball stuff…" he went on.
"Yeah."
"Very little pokémon stuff."
Catching on quickly to the direction this conversation was headed, Delia sighed. "Ash. I know you're disappointed," she conceded sympathetically. "And I understand. But I hope you won't show that disappointment to Riley. He's so excited. He's been talking about wanting to see you all week. He idolizes you."
Ash failed to check the bitter grunt that rumbled in his throat. "Not enough to follow in my footsteps."
"He is," his mother disagreed strongly, yet still maintaining a caring tenor. "He's just taking a different route. Riley, he's…inspired by someone who is passionate, and driven…someone who's living a dream…"
"Pfft, yeah, living it." He folded his arms petulantly around himself.
"Aren't you?" Delia arched a curious brow.
Ash straightened, eyes blazing with deep frankness into his mother's. "Mom. I prep other people's pokémon for battles that I'm not even participating in."
"But you're working with pokémon," Delia reasoned, frowning. "And I'm sure that's a very important job."
"There're thousands of important jobs with pokémon. Doesn't mean this is the right one for me."
Delia looked troubled at Ash's despairing rejoinder. "You're not enjoying yourself at all?"
"When I do get to battle, I can't even use the pokémon I want. Has to be water. Can only use certain attacks. Have to follow specific guidelines. Same battlefield every time, no variety. And don't even get me started about when they're short-staffed and need help with the shows."
He cringed, reaching up to rub at his temple. Although he'd never exactly hyped the smorgasbord of responsibilities he held at the multidimensional Cerulean Gym, this was the first time he'd been so candid about how miserable it often made him. He instantly felt bad for onloading this all so unexpectedly on his mother, but his frame of mind was too tenuous to hold it back.
"I'm sorry." His mom placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Does Misty know you're so unhappy?"
"I don't say it out loud, but I'm sure she's getting vibes. She's so stressed out herself, though." That was an understatement, one he didn't feel like expanding on. The truth was, Misty bellyached about the goings-on of the gym so much that Ash barely had the chance to divulge his own issues. Nor did he have the heart to add any more to his fiancée's plate, either.
Fortunately, Delia didn't press for any more particulars. "This is just a chapter in your career," she gently reminded him instead. "You'll find other opportunities."
She wasn't wrong, but Ash couldn't see himself seeking employment outside the gym any time soon. Committing himself to Misty, together with his credentials, had naturally led to his involvement in her family business. It hadn't taken long for him to realize, however, that his love for Misty did not equate to a love for the gym leader lifestyle.
To top it all off, there was another underlying matter.
"I don't know what I want to do, though," grumbled Ash. Well, he did know what he wanted, but the hard truth about that pipedream had been gradually polluting his life for several years now. "Turns out wanting to be a Pokémon Master doesn't exactly lead to a real-life job."
Delia didn't seem to accept that logic for a second. "There are plenty of things out there you'd be perfect for. What about teaching—coaching? You'd like that. You love to teach other people about pokémon. Look at how much fun you had showing Riley how to train and battle."
Ash practically threw his hands in the air. "And does he want to be a trainer? No. So I'm oh-for-one. Not exactly encouraging, Mom."
Despite that biting statement, Delia looped her arm through her son's and pulled him close. "Oh, honey. It'll get better, I promise." All Ash could do was look down and bob his head in accord at the vague yet optimistic pledge. What else did he expect his mother to say, after all? It wasn't up to her to find his place in the world; that was his undertaking. He could only be appreciative of her patience and kindness. Turning this visit into a pity party for himself was also something he had not intended, and promptly swore to reverse course.
"In the meantime, do try to perk up," Delia said. "Riley's waiting for you outside. Make sure he knows you're okay with him being a baseball player."
As if that assignment was going to improve his mood, but the last thing Ash was about to do, ever, was crush his brother's enthusiasm. He was going to have to shift his feelings to the back burner, and that likewise included not beleaguering his mom with his troubles.
And so, he let out a lighthearted huff. "Easy for you to say. You're just happy he's not running off on a journey and leaving you behind like that other heartless son you have did." He gave her a shrewd smile, emphasizing the innocuous jest.
Delia chuckled, then shrugged. "Doesn't mean a mother can't worry. This is a big commitment he's taking on—it's going to be a lot more work, put a lot of pressure on him. And I dread how this is going to affect his schoolwork…" After a shake of her head, she gave Ash a knowing look. "But I can only hope he'll have less brushes with danger than you had."
Ash winced through his teeth dramatically. "I don't know," he sang doubtfully. "Some of those line drives can be pretty hairy…"
His mother narrowed her eyes, and he grinned. "He'll be fine," he whispered.
"Yes, he will be," Delia concurred with a nod. Suddenly, she drew his head down to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. "And so will you, mister. I'm proud of you."
His heart swelling with sincere warmth at her assertion, Ash beamed fondly. "Thanks, Mama."
With renewed intent, Ash was about to practically bounce into the backyard. He held up, however, rewarded with a sight through the screen that all but washed away the frustration he'd felt moments earlier. There were Riley and Pikachu, seated on the lawn under the tree, engaged in their own little intimate game of catch. Riley rolled a baseball towards the mouse, who returned it either with a bop of his head or a flick of his zigzag tail, back and forth. It was a simple exercise, but the sweeping smile on his brother's face and his accompanying giggles had Ash inflating his lungs with happiness.
Maybe there was hope in the end. Or maybe, Ash kept it real with himself, Riley just loved to play with Pikachu.
The squeal of the door wrenched the two from their activity.
"Pikapi!"
"Wow, you were in the bathroom a long time," Riley grinned cheekily.
"I wasn't in there the whole time," Ash shot back, albeit amusedly. "Mom got a hold of me."
"Ohhh, yeah." Riley's eyes went skyward in complete understanding. Before Ash could say anything else, his brother suddenly sprang to his feet and went to snatch his baseball mitt from the ground. He then darted to the oversized equipment bag laying on the other side of the yard, and within a second Ash found himself clumsily grabbing another mitt tossed his way.
"Catch with me?" asked Riley, not awaiting an answer as he quickly positioned himself a dozen or so yards away from Ash.
Not that Ash was going to refuse that request. He smiled as he slipped his father's mitt onto his hand. It was old, but worn little. Jay had bought it to throw a ball around with Ash more than a decade ago, though it had certainly found more usage as of late with Riley.
For the next few minutes, the two lobbed the ball smoothly to each other without a single word. Pikachu greeted the recess by lazily extending his sprawl in the grass. Everyone was absorbed in their own small world of serenity.
Ash tipped his hat down further over his eyes to ward off the sun, its rays barely diffused by the just-budding tree branches, but it wasn't enough to affect his catch. It also didn't keep him from observing the rangy, athletically-built nine-year-old across from him, content as could be in his element and in the company of his beloved older brother.
Even though he'd seen Riley not too long ago, Ash couldn't believe how much the boy had changed since. Now he knew what his mother had gone through all those years ago, only sometimes months had passed in that situation, not weeks. Riley had to be in the midst of a growth spurt, something that had always stubbornly seemed to evade Ash. He hadn't been this tall at Riley's age—not even close. At this rate, Ash thought almost enviously, Riley was sure to meet their father's five-eleven, a height Ash would forever be several inches short of achieving.
The sight of his blossoming little brother had Ash itching to learn more about what was going on in Riley's life, the big day ahead of him notwithstanding. Ash needed to get his fill and then some of Riley before it was back to the gym and the other side of his reality, the one far more chaotic than this palliative moment.
"So, what's new lately?"
Riley shrugged following a toss. "Nothin' much; just school. And watching a lot of Electabuzz baseball—season just started."
"Ah." Ash smirked deviously. "They suck, just like always?"
Riley's face immediately tightened into a chagrined frown, and Ash did all he could not to snicker. Ribbing Riley about his favorite yet always toiling baseball team was nothing new. "No!" the boy replied in terse defense. "They're just off to a slow start, okay?"
"Did they ever recover from that slow start they had last year?" When Riley's eyes narrowed even more, Ash chuckled in submission. The ball continued to sail between them with ease despite the light contention. "I'm just teasing ya…it's cool that you're such a loyal fan. I met a girl once who was like that. She was obsessed. Probably not as much as you, though."
"Prolly not."
"Yeah, she was into pokémon, too, anyway." Ash's breath suddenly hitched, regretting that addendum. Don't mention pokémon, you idiot! "Anyway, how are the Magikarps doing?"
"Okay. But shouldn't you be a fan of the Starmies? You live in Cerulean."
"I suppose I should be," Ash acknowledged. "Not that I have much time for baseball…"
Again, Ash found his muscles stiffening with panic at another unintentionally ignorant remark. Ugh, nice…you trying to make him feel bad? he scolded himself. While it was true that watching a baseball game on TV was one of the last things he had time for, there was no need to misguidedly make Riley think his passion had no importance in Ash's life.
Thankfully, any possible slight appeared to elude Riley, and Ash quickly carried the conversation on. "But enough about big leaguers, what about you?" He wound his throw with a gentle yet sweeping twist of his body, nearly sending the ball flying past Riley's side. The boy reached backhanded and snagged it with no problem, however. "How do you feel about tomorrow?"
"'m nervous," Riley murmured, his head ducking at the reminder of the tryouts.
"Yeah. I get it. But I'm sure you'll do fine—better than fine."
"Thanks," replied Riley, though sounding unconvinced. "I just hope they think I'm good enough."
"Well, from what I hear, you sure sound like you're good enough." It was no lie—in fact, that was putting it rather lightly. The recaps of Riley's achievements relayed by his parents, steeped with wonder and pride, dominated large chunks of their phone calls. The superabundance of strike-outs, the low-scoring games on his opponents' part, the copious praise from Riley's coaches… Ash knew Riley was a good pitcher, as he'd seen the advent of his skill when he had been able to attend his early games. But lately, he was reeling at the testimonies of how tremendously better Riley was getting.
If only he could witness it firsthand more often, not just hear about it.
In spite of that all, Riley tilted his head skeptically. "I don't know, maybe…"
Ash's brow furrowed; this wasn't just modesty on his brother's part. Riley was completely trivializing his broadcasted talent, and Ash couldn't understand why. "Well, let's see. Show me what you got."
The challenge seemed to enliven Riley, Ash was relieved to see. With a spark in his eye and a perky grin, Riley brought the mitt to his face and went effortlessly into pitcher mode, regarding Ash with keen concentration. Ash intuitively crouched lower, holding the open glove out receptively. Riley wound up and pitched a ball to his brother that not only found its target with insane accuracy (Ash's mitt didn't move in the slightest) but with a sound impact that left his hand sizzling.
"Geeez. Holy murkrow!" Ash hissed, yanking the mitt off to sneak an incredulous look at his prickling palm. "That actually hurt, dude!"
Riley blushed, biting back a culpable smile. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, that was awesome!" Ash replied, his eyes round with excitement and still a touch of disbelief. "How many kids hit off that?"
"A few…"
"You ever knocked your catcher over?"
Riley giggled. "No…"
Ash paused, gaping down at his hand again and then regarding the humbly smiling child who had delivered such a mind-blowing throw. It took only that pitch, that one, single pitch, to substantiate everything his parents had told him about Riley's development in the last year or so. Jay hadn't been hyperbolizing when he'd thrown out words like phenom and freak. And it definitely confirmed, in Ash's estimation, that Riley was equipped for the next step. He was through pitching to overmatched competitors in his localized league.
"No wonder they're having you try out for this league," Ash said, more to himself than to Riley.
"Yeah, but there'll prolly be a ton of guys tomorrow who can throw like that," Riley rapidly downplayed his brother's assessment. "What if I'm not better than them?"
"What if you are?" Ash refuted. "Seriously, Ry, that pitch was perfect. And from what Mom and Dad tell me about how you play lately…it all makes sense." He shook his head, the heartbreak over Riley coming into his own without Ash along for the ride consuming him. "I just wish I was able to be at your games to see it for myself."
His very accepting brother simply shrugged. "'s okay."
"I'm so busy at the gym, they always need me…" Ash continued to justify.
"I know," assured Riley. "I'm just glad you came tonight."
I am, too, Ash thought unwaveringly. How he could have ever contemplated dodging this visit, he didn't know. His presence was so important to Riley. Just as Jay's had been to Ash's…only Ash hadn't always had it. Reminded of exactly how much his father's absence had affected him at some of the most important moments of his youth, the vow that Ash spoke next was as sincere as could be, so help him.
"If—when you make this team, though? I'm gonna make sure I'm at as many games as I can be."
Instead of the grateful smile that Ash expected, however, Riley suddenly looked apprehensive. "You're not gonna yell at the umpire from the stands like Dad does, will you?"
Partly in respite from the gravity he'd been privately experiencing, Ash chortled. "I'll just cheer and boo when appropriate," he replied. "Sounds like you need me there more to tame Dad."
"He's okay, most of the time," said Riley. "But when the ump doesn't call a strike that he thinks was, he gets a little riled up."
Ash's eyes widened in feigned shock. "Dad, get riled up? Impossible."
Riley chuckled at the inside jab at their father, but abruptly grew unsettled himself. "And Mom!" he expounded on their other parent while on the subject. "She won't stop calling me Ri-Ri! In front of all my teammates and everyone! It's embarrassing!"
Ash sheepishly reached under his cap to scratch at his hair. "Well, I'm guilty of that, too, but I promise I won't call you that at any of your games. And I'll try to gently remind Mom to stop, too."
Exhaling in visible gratitude, Riley nodded. "Thanks."
The two had just resumed their carefree game when a spirited, welcoming voice unexpectedly rang out across the yard. "Could it be? My two boys in the same exact place?!"
A smile sweeping from ear to ear, Ash twirled around to behold his dad hanging out the door, looking surprised and elated. After all these years, Ash still found that he never took seeing his dad after any spell of separation for granted, and probably never would. Without a second more of dawdling, Jay trotted out to greet his eldest.
"Hi, Dad," Ash said as Jay drew him into a grasping embrace. Neither man made any move to break away in a hurry.
"I'm so happy to see you, bud." Jay said this with such soft yet ardent delight, Ash could sadly tell that there was a part of his dad that had feared he wouldn't show, as well.
"Same here," he replied quietly. His dad cupped the back of his head affectionately before ultimately breaking the hug.
"Except what are you doing, playing a cushy game of catch with this punk?" Jay glared good-naturedly at Ash as he jerked the baseball from his hand. "Gimme that. Hey, Ry! Head's up!"
Slapping the ball once with gusto, Jay arched back and heaved it sky-high, soaring nearly vertical above the tree tops.
Riley was not pleased with the impulsive trial. "Daaaad!" he groused, but nonetheless focused on the ball until it dropped just as quickly as it had rocketed into his awaiting glove.
Shaking his head with a smile, Jay refused to capitulate to his son's whine. "Uh-uh," he dismissed, "you need to practice catching those pop flies! And ground balls! They're gonna test you on all this stuff this weekend, you know this."
Very clearly aware, Riley rolled his eyes but nodded grudgingly. Ash smiled, empathizing with him. There was a time for work and a time for play when it came to their respective passions, and their father was the one to impose that mentality more commonly—and annoyingly, sometimes—than anyone else. Often, when Ash had given in to lollygagging in the midst of training for upcoming competition, Jay had swooped in to prod him back to business. Riley would learn to appreciate it more as he got older, just as Ash had.
Apparently, Jay was ready for Ash to assume this trait, as well, elbowing his son's side. "C'mon, Ash, put this kid to work," he urged. "Actually, you can do that later—dinner's on the table. You don't get in there now, your steak becomes mine."
And just like that, work, play, however it was perceived, was instantly forgotten, both boys flinging their gloves to the ground to scramble into the house for the delicious meal their mother had prepared.
It wasn't long after dinner that Ash and Riley were back outside. Except this time, they chose to disperse: Riley returned to practicing, sending pitch after pitch into his target net while his older brother elected to play audience, perched on the step of the porch, too gorged from the meal to think about doing any kind of physical activity. Pikachu was somewhere in between, one minute rounding up baseballs and the next plopped contentedly at Ash's feet. The mouse was kept active assisting with training at the gym, and Ash knew he was also enjoying this rare day off. The sound of the radio wafted through the open windows of the house into the yard; Jay had forgone his usual new wave for a more soothing jazz, possibly to calm everyone's tensions, perceptible or not. It was a spectacular spring evening, mild and still; however, despite the laidback atmosphere, the state of Ash's psyche was anything but. As he witnessed each throw Riley made, nearly all of them finding one of the central marks in the net with notable precision and speed, he found himself besieged with one of the most confounding mindsets he'd ever felt.
Riley was getting Ash's unspoken blessing to play ball, and willingly; that was hardly the issue anymore. Something else was now plaguing him. And evidently, he wasn't doing much to disguise it.
"Looks like you could use this."
Spellbound by Riley's drills and lost in his own head so deeply, Ash failed to sense his father's approach from behind until he found a beer dangling before his eyes.
"Huh? Oh, thanks." Ash blinked out of his stupor and accepted the bottle, slick with condensation. Already open, Ash helped himself to a generous gulp. It was deliciously bitter and crisp, a typical beer from his dad's selection, and yes, it was exactly what he needed at that moment.
Jay sat beside him, his own beer in hand. Together, they watched Riley, savoring their beverages quietly. Ash liked this, sharing a post-dinner beer with his dad and enjoying his company in the idyllic setting. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before Jay muddled it by initiating his probe.
"Okay, tell me what's on your mind," he came right out with it.
Ash released a sigh, though this was not directed at Jay; he couldn't blame his dad for worrying about him. He was annoyed with himself for allowing his moodiness to become so obvious. He was trying desperately to fulfill his mom's wish—and his own—to uphold a positive attitude, but it was tough. Dinnertime had been okay, Ash's misgivings assuaged by the buoyant conversation at the table. But now, as Riley casually brandished his gift in front of him, leading Ash to come to a very dispiriting realization, preserving a smile on his face seemed downright impossible.
With all hope, Riley was too engrossed to notice him sulking on the porch.
"I was about ready to bring you a shot of whiskey instead of a beer, that's how bummed you look," Jay kidded, though his voice still held concern. "What's going on? I mean, I know you're upset Riley's not going to train pokémon—"
"It's not that—well…not just that," Ash amended promptly, because whom was he fooling?
Jay arched a brow, surprised he hadn't hit the nail squarely on the head. "Oh? Then what?"
Ash wavered, wondering if he was prepared to disclose the not-so-appealing thoughts ricocheting in his head. Alas, a simple never mind was most likely not going to appease his notoriously persistent father, and therefore, Ash was pressed to explain.
"He's so…good," he said rather dumbly, of Riley.
Jay nodded; no disagreement there. "Yup…"
"He's amazing." Yet there was no verve in Ash's voice, which, sure enough, Jay picked up on astutely.
"And that makes you…saaad?" The word dragged out uncertainly. Although he didn't make eye contact with Jay, Ash could just see the perplexed face he was making as he strained to decipher where his son was going with this.
Taking a deep breath and shelving his dignity, Ash elaborated. "Not sad. Jealous." As expected, it sounded significantly more disgraceful out loud. Awkwardly, he chanced a look at his dad's reaction.
But instead of the reproach Ash was expecting, Jay's nose wrinkled, seeming to still not get it. "You're jealous he's good at pitching? I never thought you wanted to play baseball. I mean, you showed some interest in it, but then you—"
"I'm not talking about baseball, I'm talking about in general," Ash interjected, a bit too crossly. He reached up to scrub at his eyes. "I wish…I wish I had that kind of talent."
His father snorted, almost laughing, immediately rebuffing Ash's claim. "Not sure what you're talking about. Of course you have talent—"
"Not like him," retorted Ash, motioning to his brother with a toss of his head. "If I battled pokémon the way he pitches, I…things might've been a little different."
Jay's forehead furrowed as he digested this statement. After taking a long slug of his beer, he finally said, "Yeah, I don't agree with that."
Naturally he didn't. He was his dad. He wasn't supposed to agree with demoralizing statements about his son, no matter how convinced Ash was, no matter the truth. Part of Ash just wanted to brush away the entire conversation at that moment, retreat from the attention he'd inadvertently drawn to himself. But he knew he had little choice; he'd stupidly laid bare too much, and Jay was never going to let him shrug something like this off.
On the other hand, his rational brain argued, the vulnerable side of him confessed, whom better to make sense of these gloomy feelings than his dad?
Steeling himself, Ash resumed, holding little back. "Dad, he's gonna go into that evaluation tomorrow, and he's going to have no problem making that team. I just think about the day I started my pokémon journey. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea how good or bad I'd be. I was a complete mess."
"Ash, don't go comparing those two," Jay admonished. "You were just starting out. Riley's been playing a while."
"Yeah, but what about my conference battles? If I was this consistent, if it came to me as easy as this comes to Riley…I would've gone into those battles with so much more confidence, mighta won more…"
"That's not—"
Suddenly, the crack of splintering wood brusquely tore both from the intensifying dialogue. Riley had frozen completely, casting a timorous wince Jay and Ash's way. One of his pitches had gone awry, striking the bordering picket fence with such force it fractured the wood a little, some of the white paint flaking clear off.
It was no real harm done, and Jay smirked. "Hey, Ri-Ri. In those extremely rare events you don't throw a good pitch, would you mind not taking out the fence?"
Despite his flippant tone, Riley cringed even more, shielding the bottom half of his reddened face with his glove. "Sorry…"
"You know what, don't worry about it," Jay waved it off, hasty to allay the boy of any unnecessary guilt. "I'll just sell that slat to the Hall of Fame someday when they make your exhibit…get a good penny for it."
"What if I do something like that tomorrow?" Riley asked fretfully, completely ignoring his father's wisecrack.
"What, destroy the league's picket fence? Pretty sure everything there is chain-link."
"Nooo," Riley groaned, embarrassment swapped with vexation at Jay's failure to recognize the real issue. "I mean, throw a bad pitch!"
Before he went and instigated a small meltdown, Jay cut the banter and granted Riley a heartening smile. "You're not gonna throw a bad pitch, kiddo," he reassured him. "The two total you actually throw you're getting out of your system tonight."
That seemed to somewhat placate Riley, who languidly went to collect his thrown balls and return to his post. Ash studied him intently, trying to figure out his brother. The kid was brilliant; except for that one erratic pitch, everything he did looked right. More than right—it looked picture-perfect. Yet the blanch of unease on Riley's face following that small flub, the devaluing—intentional or not—of his ability numerous times that evening…what exactly was driving this cynicism, especially when it was so clearly unjustified?
Riley didn't realize how good he had it, did he?
"Riley's gonna make that team tomorrow. He's gonna make every team he tries out for. He's gonna win championships. Unlike me."
The rocket fire of unreserved views threw his father into a visible tizzy. "Woah woah woah, stop, time-out!" he bade frantically, clapping a settling hand on Ash's shoulder. In the next moment, Jay just faltered, looking thoroughly stupefied as he absorbed both his sons' dolor. Ash grimaced, immediately regretting tossing that dramatic kindling to the flame.
"What the hell's going on with you two—you trying to one up each other on who's lousier?!" Jay ultimately exclaimed.
When all Ash could return was a half-hearted shrug, Jay groaned. He set his beer down on the porch, as if that was going to get in the way of his imminent counteraction, which he prefaced with a heaving, preparative sigh.
"I have a couple things to say here, and I want you to listen closely. Okay?" Jay leveled, no nonsense in his tone. Ash kept his attention forward, on Riley, the less uncomfortable option. "First of all, I'm not going to sit here and listen to you tell me you aren't good at pokémon battling. Alright? That's a load of crap, and you know it. You are an amazing trainer, an amazing battler. You placed so well in your conferences—"
"Didn't win 'em," Ash pointed out.
"You wonthe Orange League," Jay countered just as flatly.
"And where has that gotten me, Dad?" Ash barked bitterly. "Part of the Elite Four? No. I'm working at a gym that's not even mine—it's my fiancée's."
"And I'm sitting at a desk writing demanding emails to make sure bulk shipments of pokémon chow get to distributors," Jay offered in solidarity. "Listen, I know you wanted to be some world-famous trainer—I did, too, every pokémon-loving kid does—but…just because we aren't, doesn't mean we're failures. I am not going to have you talking like you're a failure—you're not."
If only his dad knew precisely how he felt each time he found out he was cleared to battle on a particular day, only because they had more challengers than the gym leaders could handle. His tongue itched to explicate, but Ash wisely plugged his mouth with his beer bottle instead. His lips came off the rim with a dour smack, though. If his dad noted it, he disregarded it, moving on.
"And talent? C'mon, Ash, don't give me that…you know youhave talent," Jay professed. His voice lowered, and the air about him became considerably more solemn. "If you didn't, you think you would have accomplished half of what you did off the field? You know some of your most important battles had nothing to do with league competition."
At that note, Ash's breath seized in his chest. He couldn't help acknowledging Jay then with his gaze, no matter how stubbornly he wished to dwell in his bubble of defeatism. Flashes of past events, some embraced and some unsolicited, blipped across his mind's eye.
"…Yeah, I know…" he had no choice but to reply.
Could Ash really call that talent, though? Luck, maybe. Or lack of luck, rather, depending on perspective. But he couldn't refute Jay's point, either way. Knowing how to use a pokémon's aptitudes to their extreme potential in some of the direst, most unthinkable situations and coming out victorious—surviving, in too many cases—was not exactly the résumé of someone with substandard ability. Perhaps he was depreciating himself a bit.
Thank God Riley won't have to deal with all that stuff, at least, Ash flippantly thought—almost vocalized, if not for the sudden leap of his heart into his throat at the staggering epiphany that followed.
Indeed, he could never forget those particularly harrowing moments of his journey, even as the tedium of daily life as a run-of-the-mill pokémon trainer helped thin the memories of it. But had Ash also been conveniently glossing over them too much in his longing for Riley to take up the sport?
Out of the blue, a surge of trepidation, of protectiveness over his brother coursed through his body so intensely it nearly took Ash's breath away. Picturing Riley as a trainer, until now, had naïvely, blindly, entailed nothing but the fun, propitious parts. Making friends, building a team, winning badges. But wasn't that what Ash had focused on at ten-years-old, as well? It had amounted to much more than that at times—cataclysmically—but he had, fortunately for himself and everyone involved, risen to the challenge. A serious question was exploding in Ash's brain: he had done it, but could Riley? His meek, reticent, self-doubting baby brother?
Of course, Riley could easily have a smooth, uneventful journey as a pokémon trainer. But…he could not.
Ash could only pray Riley would never, ever find himself in some of the predicaments that had come by him since the day he set out to be a pokémon trainer. That he would never have to face as perilous of trials, or assume extraordinary responsibilities no child should but Ash had been liberally assigned. That the only diving Riley would ever do was to catch a line drive, not off cliffs, into oceans, into the heart of danger itself. That the most annoying thing he'd ever suffer was a badgering coach, not a bumbling, stalking trio of thieves. That the scariest encounter he'd ever have was with a home run king, not a felonious mastermind intent on controlling the world as they knew it.
Perhaps Ash himself needed to recall this more often when jaded at the gym: how good did he have it, surrounded daily by beautiful, primed pokémon in a magnificent setting, watching wide-eyed young trainers come and go with contagious enthusiasm, working alongside the girl he loved who had never hesitated one second to be by his side through the most daunting moments of his childhood?
So his life had gotten a bit…mundane. Was that really such a terrible thing?
"And no matter how much you want to convince me otherwise, I know the main reason you're down in the dumps. This, here?" Jay made a sweeping motion in the direction of the still-practicing Riley, not at all cognizant of the discussion going on in the wings, "—is not your ideal scenario. I'd hoped Riley'd want to train pokémon, too. But we have to respect and accept that that's not what he wants. And seeing how he is—do you think he should be doing anything differently?"
Ash shook his head. And the sincerity in that action was no longer just because Riley was so superb at pitching. It was because, still to his wildest disbelief, Ash was relieved Riley would abide in the shelter of a ballfield instead of venturing into the world. Though startling, the more he ruminated on the feeling, the sounder it became. Later, possibly, when this unforeseen effect of Jay's lecture had tapered, he'd go back to coveting parts of that "ideal scenario" his dad referenced. But for now, he was grieving it.
Jay seemed to have a similar mindset. "Nothing beats being out there, travelling, catching pokémon, battling everyone you come across…and I know you miss it, and you'd hoped to live vicariously through Riley when he went on a journey. But just because he's found another passion, doesn't mean you still can't get excited for him and have fun supporting him along the way."
Distractedly drawing trails along his sweating beer bottle with his thumbs, Ash considered this. What seemed so impossible to go along with only hours before now seemed…doable. Inviting, even. Sure, the absence of the beloved creatures would be unalterably felt. But so much would remain the same, he realized: the heat of competition, the energy of a venue, the celebrations…maybe they wouldn't be as large as Ash had experienced so immediately, but with Riley's skill, they would most definitely come.
And, preferably, not at the expense of Riley's safety and innocence.
"…And you mentioned confidence before?" Jay said after a pause, addressing the other topic amidst Ash's endless meditative silence. "I've never met anyone with more confidence than you. I mean it… Riley—he lacks confidence. He beats himself up way too much. You see it. You say he's going to make that team tomorrow, no problem? He doesn't think that. You were—and still are—my kid with the swagger. And that's what I need you to impart on your little brother. He needs a little bit of that."
Ash snorted, the amusement at what was intended to be a compliment managing to slice through his inner reflections. "Talent and swagger? What do you want me to do, turn him into Gary Oak?"
Jay chuckled. "Trust me, Riley isn't, and never will be, Gary Oak." That could be said again. "He just needs a little…spunk to go along with his talent. He needs to start believing in himself more. And that is where you come in. That's where he needs you, Ash. Think you could help him out with that?"
Ash's fists tightened at this projected duty. Riley continued to throw pitches, seemingly untiring, face set with purpose. Maybe Ash couldn't assist him with the things that weren't in his wheelhouse: learn and perfect a new pitch, bat with more accuracy when called to do so, sense a base-stealer more speedily. But he could certainly do what his father was bidding of him…and much more. He could reassure Riley that it was okay to feel confident in himself, in his ability. He could instill in him the importance of moral integrity, of teamwork and camaraderie. He could bolster the aspiration to be the very best, in whatever one chose to do.
Feeling much of his tension thaw with the request, Ash gave his dad a poised, honored smile. "I think I can."
The smile Jay returned was filled with pride and fulfilment. He wound an arm around Ash's shoulders, pulling him close and giving him a commending shake. "That's my guy. Just be sure to save a little of it for yourself, too," he added quietly. "Your journey's not over yet, either, you know."
Ash would have expressed gratitude for such a championing comment, if not for the sting in his eyes and the lifting lump in this throat overpowering his ability to do so. Thankfully, Jay saw this—he saw everything—and that was thanks enough for him. His case firmly and successfully made, he then turned to focus on his youngster.
"Ri-Ri!" he hollered. "It's getting late, pal, time to wrap it up!"
His shout was more than loud enough, yet Riley continued to toss baseballs as if he hadn't heard a thing.
"Ry! Riley! Riley Brock!" Jay sang, each attempt as fruitless as the last.
Ash's eyes widened, awestruck at his brother's concentration. "Wow, he's really in the zone."
"Pfft, don't be fooled," Jay replied, shaking his head. "I used to think that, too. He's just ignoring me. He's not going to stop unless he's completely happy with the last pitch he throws."
"All those pitches looked pretty good to me…"
"Not for him," sighed Jay defeatedly. "Not for Riley the perfectionist. We could be here another half-hour. I had to literally throw him over my shoulder the other night to get him inside. If it comes to that again, you're doing it. My back can't handle it anymore."
Grinning, Ash tipped his bottle, adopting the task should it come his way.
"RI-LEY! Last. Pitch," Jay enjoined, clapping his hands with each word. The boy's attention was finally attained. Sure enough, he looked disgruntled at the, in his view, untimely stop to his drill. "You want your arm to fall off before the tryouts tomorrow? Pack it in!"
Riley gave Jay a chiding look at the absurdity of the warning, and Ash, mid-swallow with beer, nearly choked on a laugh. How many times had he seen his mother give his father that same face? Riley may have undoubtedly inherited Jay's looks, but occasionally the attitude was all Delia.
"You think I'm ready?" Riley asked anxiously as he shuffled over.
"Kid, if you're not ready, they'll have to change the definition of the word," Jay replied exasperatedly.
"You look pretty ready, Ry," Ash concurred, nodding.
Riley appeared anything but persuaded, however. "But what if I have an off-day tomorrow?"
If Ash didn't have off-days when trusted to defeat heinous wrongdoers, Riley would be just fine staring down a line of nit-picking coaches. He wasn't about to actually articulate that, however. "I used to worry about the same thing every night before a battle," he replied simply. "And that's all it turned out to be: a worry. Gotta trust in yourself, dude. You got this."
"I do?" Riley tucked his arms around himself tentatively.
"Your brother was just telling me how impressed he is watching you," Jay supplied, wiggling his eyebrows. Ash shot his father a flitting smile in gratefulness for kindly omitting all of the other stuff he'd spouted in addition to that admiration.
"Really?" The boy's eyes glistened not only with unpretentiousness, but intense appeal, desperate for validity.
"Yeah. I hate to see you doubt yourself," Ash said softly. He reflected on how blessed he was to always have a support group with him in the form of his travelling companions, who rarely let him surrender to a discouraging mood. Would Riley have that resource—close teammates like that? "But I do know what it's like to need some encouragement once in a while. So if you ever need a pep talk before a game or anything, I'm a phone call away. Or a car ride, if you really need me."
"Can you tell me something now?" Riley asked brittlely, cowering as if he'd just requested something outrageously uncalled for.
His brother's overt turmoil prompted one word straightway from Ash's mouth: "Relax."
A frown pulled at Riley's face, which, oddly enough, was an improvement over his previous emotion. "That's what everyone tells me. I'm not very good at that."
Sheesh, ya think? Ash snickered to himself. Making light of Riley's feelings, no matter how harmlessly, would not be a passable response, though, so he quickly wracked his brain to think of something, anything, that would satisfy his nervous brother. Certainly, he could implore Riley to calm down all day long, but that was obviously accomplishing little. He couldn't change a deep-seated trait in one evening. Perhaps, then, he needed to offer something beyond that, something more profound for Riley to consider. To show him, without saying it, how silly it was for Riley to think tomorrow wasn't the beginning of a momentously exhilarating, thriving time of his life.
"How about I tell you what Dad told me the night before I left on my pokémon journey?" he suggested.
"You actually remember what I told you?" Jay's lip ticked up in a half-grin, looking genuinely shocked.
Ash shrugged. "Sure, I do…your advice was what meant the most to me."
His dad, not normally one to be moved to silence, simply let the grin soften to a smile.
Luckily, Riley looked intrigued. "What is it?"
Inhaling deeply, as if what he was about to divulge was spoken gold, Ash gazed into Riley's expectant eyes. "Don't let anything shrink your heart, but also don't let anything enlarge your head."
Before Riley could so much as nod to that valuable advice, their father let out a low whistle.
"I said that?" Jay gasped. "Wow, I was on my dad game that night…" Reclaiming his beer, he took a rewarding guzzle and rolled his shoulders with pompous satisfaction, much to his sons' jollity.
Boosted by that small dose of levity, which he could always rely on Jay to provide, Ash turned back to his brother, who looked rabid for more. "And plenty of things will, trust me," he continued. "Some days, both might happen. But I tried to follow that every day of my journey. Some days it was hard, but most times it helped keep me balanced, because I knew the kind of person Dad wanted me to be, the kind of person I wanted to be, and because of that…" He gave a charged pause as he grasped what he was about to say next was the absolute truth. "I'm happy with how everything turned out."
Ash didn't know what felt better: the uplifted, earnest smile Riley bestowed upon him, or the echo of his dad's inspiring words finding their way back to his own wounded spirit. He'd spent all evening lamenting over Riley's morale, too pure and promising to be fraught with such worry and doubt, but how would he ever be able to help his brother if he didn't have the initiative to help himself?
It was time to start refocusing on the things he was fortunate for, the drive he still had in him to make the most of his career, of his homelife. The gears were already beginning to spin in his head. Maybe he needed to assert himself and insist on more suiting responsibilities at the gym. Or, heck, maybe this was his push to finally set a wedding date and start a new life not just for himself, but for Misty, too; she wouldn't be the first Sensational Sister to ditch the gym and run off with a husband, after all. And it would certainly get Delia off his back, who rarely neglected opportunities to subtly voice her disapproval with him playing house and not making it official.
But those would be sorted out later. Before he risked getting visibly introspective, he gave Riley one last emboldening look.
"Just remember who you are, always. And what you want to be," he told him.
Riley peered off to the side briefly, pensive, before his eyes became alight with the first trace of aplomb Ash had seen all day. "I'm Ry Ketchum," he answered resolutely. "And I wanna be a pitcher someday for the Electabuzz."
Although Ash hadn't exactly looked for a response, Riley volunteering that surprisingly bold designation of himself was all he needed to know that his brother, beneath all the surface burden, was going to be all right. He beamed victoriously, his heart dancing. "Then that's what you're going to be. It starts tomorrow."
The two brothers' poignant discourse was interrupted by a sudden, churlish huff. They both watched as their father tossed his head in the other direction in a farcical snit. "Not sure what I'm doing here," Jay groused. "Way to show up your old man on the advice front."
Ash bit back a laugh, joking along. "You're free to add something," he granted, waving his hand.
Jay narrowed his eyes indignantly. "Am I, then? Okay, I will!" The act was promptly dropped, and he leaned in on his knees, setting a gritty look on his youngest boy. "And this goes for after you make the team tomorrow, which you will, got that?"
Riley nodded eagerly, already hanging on Jay's preamble.
"You have to accept the bad days along with the good," Jay counseled. "I know it sounds super corny—" he rolled his eyes in admission, "—but enjoying yourself is the most important thing. Don't stop having fun even if things aren't going your way for a while. Okay?"
Though fixated on Riley, Ash knew his father was also speaking to him on the sly. Jay was going to make sure both his kids were addressed in his final pitch, even if one was more aware of that than the other. Tilting his head back, Ash downed the rest of his beer, finishing it off with a much more improved outlook than he'd started it with. This evening may have been about motivating his brother, but as the case may be, Ash had benefitted from it just as greatly.
"Okay," answered Riley.
Jay smirked in achievement. "Kick some ass tomorrow, son." He held out his fist, which Riley heartily bumped, sealing the pact.
"You got it!"
"Come on," Jay rallied the two boys, getting to his feet and arching his back with a moan. "Let's get your stuff together and start winding down. I'm shot, and I wasn't even the one pitching my arm off."
"My arm is not going to fall off!" Riley cried through a giggle.
"I'd hope not," recoiled Jay, "that'd make some gruesome mess on my lawn."
In contrast to his dad and brother's quips, a sullenness came over Ash, flattening the wave of complacency he'd been fleetingly riding. His family turning in for the night meant his return to Cerulean City. Coming out for this Friday evening had been workable, but missing a Saturday at the gym was basically out of the question. He was going to hate getting into his car shortly, so terribly did he want to be there for Riley until the instant he was assigned to the team.
"I'm sorry I won't be here this weekend, Ry," he apologized as he started to help Riley pluck out the many baseballs collected in the pitching net.
"It's okay," he replied. "I'll let you know how I do as soon as I find out. And what my game schedule is."
Ash smiled, not lost on the discreet optimism in Riley's avowal, and that he was obviously going to hold Ash to the promise he'd stated earlier of attending his games. If not disappointing Riley also meant giving himself a much-vital occasional break, all the better.
After the boys dragged the net to the side of the porch and Jay hauled the equipment bag into the house, Ash ambled along slowly in lockstep with Riley, who seemed just as disinclined to go inside as he was. For this, Ash was grateful, silently savoring every last second with him. He knew as soon as they were back in the house, he would be bombarded with farewells from his parents, thus making this his last chance to share one more word exclusively with his brother.
They weren't quite alone, however. Waiting patiently for them by the door was Pikachu, his ears drooped rather cheerlessly. He intuited their looming departure after an outing that was all too brief. Oh, how Ash could concur. He extended an arm downward, and Pikachu was summoned to his shoulder. Unhesitatingly, Riley reached up to stroke the pokémon's head.
"Thanks for helping me out today, Pikachu," he said, the timbre of his voice elevated with an indisputable fondness Ash couldn't help detecting. "Can't wait for you to come back."
"Pikachuuu."
As Ash felt Pikachu lean in to Riley's affections, he reflexively dipped sideways to allow the boy better access for the goodbye. It wasn't a naturally ideal posture, as Pikachu's claws dug in to find purchase along his collarbone, but he would stay that way as long as needed. Though it was merely an ordinary parting, it was powerfully significant to him, causing him to bite his bottom lip and blink away another swift burn of tears. Even if a love for Pikachu was all Riley would ever exhibit in regards to pokémon, could Ash honestly ask for anything more?
When Riley was done doting on the mouse, Ash straightened and emitted a thoughtful sigh. He had too lengthy a list of sentimental things he wished to convey, but ultimately chose the more lighthearted route. "So, I guess this means I'm gonna have to switch rooting interest to the Electabuzz someday, huh?"
This had Riley perk in delighted surprise. "Yeah?"
Such an easy way to please his brother, making Ash feel especially rascally in what he was about to say next. "They still won't recover from a slow start…"
His shoulders wilting at the weariness of the old gag, Riley's short-lived smile was at once replaced with a scowl. He looked even more resentful as Ash plunked an unwieldy hand down on his head and leered into his challenging eyes, his playing right into Ash's charade the icing on the cake.
"…'Cause with you on the team?" Ash said, his smile broadening meaningfully. "There'll never be a slow start to begin with."
Beneath his demonstrative hold, Riley went still, the weight of Ash's declaration slowly revealing itself in his brimming eyes, his tautening lips. It was this stirring, barefaced look of appreciation that proved to Ash that he had, without a doubt, delivered what was needed from him. Every last sliver of fear of obstructing Riley's success with his own complicated feelings was gone. Riley would inevitably still fret over a number of things going into the evaluations, but his big brother's support, Ash was confident, would not be among them.
Sparing Riley the need to reply, Ash drew the boy's head to his chest and held him tight.
Everything was going to be fine.
