A soft breeze blew past his hair, causing it to flutter lightly in the wind. He wandered along the sidewalk, head tilted, his focus elsewhere as his otherwise preoccupied brain distracted him. His peripheral vision just made out the bright blue sky littered with clouds.
His chocolate brown eyes glinted pleasantly as he longingly scanned the sky. The young man walked with his hands tucked into his pockets. He continued staring at the lovely sky illuminated by the lustrously shining sun.
He wasn't a big individual, standing only at the average for an adult man. The teen had spiky black hair, masculine facial features with high cheeks bones, a moderately square jaw, and clear, lightly tanned scan. It was apparent that he was physically active as his shoulders were broad, and his arms filled out his jacket rather well.
He wore a pair of black pants, a matching long-sleeve shirt, hiking boots, and a forest-green military jacket with plenty of pockets, including two etched onto his chest.
As he strode down the stone path, idly towards the large hill in the center of the town, his brown eyes skimmed across the beautiful blue sky. He then watched as a flock of Pidgey flew overhead and, in front of them, led a Pidgeotto. A male, to be exact. The plumage above its crown was a degree or two darker than a female's. It was too large to be a female. They were a few inches shorter than the male Pidgeotto. Unlike this one, Ash almost wanted to say it was an above-average example of its species.
He halted his movement, however, when he learned that he had been staring blankly into the sky for over five minutes, and he was now stopped right in front of the stairs to Professor Oak's Laboratory. The Pidgeotto's flock was nowhere to be seen. He mulled up at the enormous building before he gave a soft, barely discernible sigh and started strolling up the stairs.
He finally reached the top of the large, pristine white set of exterior stairs. At the finish of the white marble stairs rested the entrance of the beautiful building that appeared to be constructed primarily out of glass panes. A recently scrubbed cement floor led up to the structure. A fountain greeted him. It was a capacious one with slight clay Milotic spewing water from their mouths, filling the magnificently painted ceramic fountain.
Paying no mind to it, as he'd already seen it before a thousand times. So, he strode up to the glass door and opened it. He heard a soft beep resonate through the entire building, which was rather hollow save for the occasional unoccupied desk.
He stepped inside his grip on the handle falling. It softly closed on its own. Once it closed, the beeping sound sounded out once more.
Sounds of hurried steps rang up from two floors ahead of the teen. An older man in a disheveled science coat peered from the top. Though, once he saw the tanned young man, he smiled cheerily and waved.
"How's my Junior Assistant going on this fine morning?" Oak smiled good-naturedly, holding inelegantly stacked papers.
Ash's brown eyes stared at the professor before taking note of the slight crumbs on his lab coat and cheek. "What have I told you about eating sugary desserts, Professor?"
Oak paled considerably and tried smiling. "H-heh! I haven't eaten any donuts! I swear it!" He finished with a nervous chuckle, though all he got from Ash was a quiet stare.
"… I never said anything about donuts, Professor."
A loud gulp was heard throughout the open room. Oak coughed, taking control of the conversation to retain the last of his dignity.
"Right this way, Ash." He smiled, turning his heel and briskly walking away.
Ash watched him leave, his mellow smile widening. "Why the hell do I work for him?" He murmured to himself, following the man upwards.
Ash traversed through the winding stairs, deciding not to keep the old man waiting.
Once he was upstairs, he turned left, went down the brightly lit hallway, and passed about half a dozen doors leading to a considerably sized room before stopping at a large set of double doors.
Ash leaned into the ocular scanner. A red light surveyed his iris', then he drew back as the chambers clicked. He tugged the doors open and strolled inside. Professor Oak was the region's leading expert in many scientific fields regarding Pokemon. Most of his research was stored in his lab. More specifically, behind these here doors. He would have to be an unsuspecting, careless fool not to take precautions in guarding it. Professor Oak was many things.
Fanatical at times, yes.
Exuberant? Yep.
Stubborn? At times.
Careless? Never.
Lo and behold, the old professor was sitting on a rolling chair, his hands neatly atop a desk.
The large room was a negligibly messy lab with many things lying around on various desks, blueprints, and toolboxes. However, in the center of the room was a long wooden L-shaped desk that the professor sat at, which was pretty clean. Seeing the older man, Ash ambled over.
The professor tapped the table and then pointed to the wooded chair across from him.
"Pull a chair up, Ash," he instructed with his uneasy smile still intact.
"I'm guessing you have a reason for being late?" He greeted with seriousness, yet his smile remained etched onto his senior, freshly shaven face.
Ash nodded. As he reached inside his jacket pocket, he pulled out a white flier and slid it across the table. The man seized it. He flipped it around to read it.
Only a few seconds afterward, he let out a sigh.
"I see. Gary didn't hand out the current and updated memo to you. No doubt on purpose. Sly, my grandson is; I'll give him that," Oak muttered, but Ash heard him well enough. The teen frowned at the mere mention of Gary. "My apologies Ash. I should've forwarded it to you myself or sent a messenger. Important business arose, alas. With your last-minute assignment in Celadon, I was without my favorite assistant. So I rescheduled. I made everyone come earlier so I could handle my affairs. Problem solved. Or, so I thought."
"Don't worry about it, Boss," Ash stated genuinely. The professor made a sound of relief.
The old man perked up in remembrance. He shot up from his chair and trotted over to a circular desk with about thirty circled slots and about twenty red and white Pokeballs resting in them. He roamed around it with a searching gaze before stopping. He plucked the Pokeball and went back to his chair.
"Here you go, lad," Oak gestured as he set the Pokeball on the desk.
Ash stared into his eyes, "You didn't give him out yet… did you?" Oak frowned, shaking his head.
"No. You two are nearly inseparable. Even if you've only known each other for a few weeks." Oak smiled. "If I hand him away to some other trainer, I would have one less assistant, a dead trainer, and a very, very angry ghost-type knocking at my door."
"Ghosts don't knock."
Oak pursed his lips humorously. "Why do you think I was so afraid? Mischievous little wanker. Normally, I do not recommend new trainers capturing ghosts. You know this just as I do. They're as dangerous as dragons." He squared his broad shoulders firmly. "Are you sure you want him, Ash? I do not doubt that you will be more than a capable trainer, but it takes a special sort to train and control a ghost competently."
"I appreciate it," he commented. "The rumors were negative, by the way. There wasn't a Starly nest in Celadon. They're migrating from Sinnoh, but it's a month too early. I told you that."
Oak made his displeasure tangible at Ash's deflection.
"You should take this more seriously."
"Although, it would be pretty cool to nab a Starly. Staraptors are one of the better flying types in the world," he mused distractedly. "Intimidate alone makes them valuable. Their physiology is also something to marvel at. They can pack on, comparatively, more muscle on average than Pidgeot's, yet are also a degree faster. They learn Close Combat as well. If I ever see a Starly, I'm catching one."
"Maybe my personal feelings for you have blinded my professional judgment." Immediately, there was a change in Ash's face. "I never allow a beginner trainer to start their journey with a ghost, dark, or dragon-types. It's dangerous, reckless, and unbecoming of a man with my credentials. You forget, Ash, I had to talk with the League to get a waiver to even be your sponsor. I'm your adoptive father. The whole reason Professors aren't allowed to sponsor their children is for situations like this."
"If you thought your judgment had been compromised, you'd have never gotten that waiver three years ago," Ash remarked pointedly. Oak dragged a palm over his face. "Sure, you get distracted easily, but you're hardly negligible, and you're certainly not stupid. I don't want a Charmander, a Bulbasaur, or a Squirtle. Not that I'd get one anyway."
Gary made sure of that. Ash contained an eye-roll at Gary's childish schemes. If only he had put half of that cleverness toward schooling, he'd easily have outshined his yearly scores. Gary was lazy, though. He was a genius. Everything came easy to him. Ash was never born with such beneficial fortune. Being the son of two respected researchers and the grandson of a legendary figure within Kanto had its perks. Gary sure chose his parents well.
"Now, if we're done with empty threats, can we move on?" Ash inquired irritably.
Oak leaned forward, inspecting the boy's face. "There are bags under your eyes. Have you not been sleeping well?"
"I'll be fine."
"That's not what I asked, lad."
Ash hesitated. "Just a few nights here and there. Nothing serious."
It was a complete lie. He'd been plagued by awful nightmares and sleepless nights for the past several evenings. He went to see a doctor while he was away in Celadon. She diagnosed him with low-grade insomnia and gave him a prescription for something that would help. Ash promptly tossed the pills in the rubbish on his way out. She said that his working environment may have had something to do with it. Ash told her she wasn't wrong. He worked rigorously in his research and studied often. That left little time for sleep.
"Let me know if it gets worse."
"Will do, Boss. Thank you, again, for butting heads with the League. I couldn't ask for a better sponsor."
"You're just saying that because you have favor with me."
"Duh," he said dully, but not humorlessly. "How was Gary?"
"I know you don't like Gary, and the feeling is mutual, but I wish you two would at least act like civilized young men." Oak was tired from their constant fighting. "He got his Squirtle—"
"I'm sure he didn't threaten any of the other sponsors for it," Ash muttered.
"He then promptly battled the other two boys before the ink was even dry on their forms." Ash snorted. Yeah, that didn't sound like Gary at all.
"Did he win?"
"I didn't watch."
"Your grandson's first Pokemon battle, and you didn't watch?"
"I'll be sure to watch his first real battle when he reaches the Indigo League."
Right. Sometimes he forgot that Professor Oak still had the pride of a trainer simmering beneath that jovial visage. "Thanks again for going out of your way."
Oak laughed heartily, "Please, lad," he shook his head. "This old man may have many regrets in his life, but I haven't lost my way."
With that, Ash reached across and clasped his hand firmly. When he looked at it longingly, Oak began speaking once more.
"I forgot. You wish to swap the usual Pokeball, don't you?" Oak commented before standing up. "You mentioned that you had one commissioned several weeks ago."
"I had it delivered to Celadon so I could pick it up there," he said, even if he didn't have to, as the old man already knew his answer.
And he, too, stood up and followed. As he neared Oak, he stood by an odd machine that looked like an opened-up printer. Ash, of course, knew what it was. He was the old man's assistant. One of the first things he learned was what every piece of machinery in his lab was and its purpose.
"Place the Pokeball you wish to be used," Oak instructed.
Ash complied as he reached inside his jacket pocket before pulling out a pure, dark blue Pokeball. In the center of the ball, where the small button rested, a shadowy claw reached out, curling its long wispy fingers over the top of the singular button resting in the epicenter of the ball. As he set it down, he correctly arranged the ball containing his starter Pokemon.
Instantly, Oak pressed a few buttons before the machine produced an awkward humming noise, and each of the Pokeballs faced the other. The center of the buttons lay symmetrically in front of each other. Suddenly electricity zapped from each button. It disappeared, and the blue Pokeball smoked from the successful transfer.
Ash quickly snatched the blue Pokeball up. The normal red one opened up, revealing an empty husk.
They stared each other down for a few more moments, none of them saying a word before Ash suddenly turned a heel and started walking away. Oak never protested as he watched him leave. But he made a sound of surprise when Ash stopped and started speaking.
"Hey, Boss," he started, getting his attention.
"Yes, Ash?"
"I want to say thank you… for everything you've done," Ash said quietly. The whole sentimental thing was never his strong suit. He wasn't very social, and Oak respected that. The old man had met his fair share of recluses in his time. Ash was just like them. Plus, the boy was brilliant. If he complained about his temperament, it would be hypocritical of him, given his own eccentricities.
Oak merely smiled merrily. "Young man, I never did anything worth noting. I just gave you the tools for success, and you built your future yourself. I merely supplied you with the books, and you read them. I only gave you the key, and you unlocked the door and marched through it," he explained with a great big smile. "Just do me a favor and stay on your path. Sometimes, I wish I had."
Oak turned, remembering the old days when he stepped foot into the arenas. The people in the stands... cheering, the exhilaration of battle…
The very next second, he looked back up and saw the door come closing back in, and not a trace of Ash. Oak stared, chuckling.
"I hate it when he does that."
Route 1
Since he left Professor Oak's Lab, Ash took the liberty to scan his starter's Pokeball with his Pokedex that he had gotten from Professor Oak a year ago.
The device took the form of a pure white rectangular-shaped piece of highly advanced technology. It was around seven inches long and completely resembled a modern touchscreen phone. The only trade-off was the back of the device was made entirely out of steel, and the screen was made out of a high-quality glass that would put Plexi Glass to shame. It added more weight to the already sizeable device that barely fit into his pocket. In addition, a small, extremely durable camera was in the top right corner of the steel plating.
As his device hovered off the Pokeball, Ash pressed down on the singular, circular button on the bottom of the glass screen. Immediately, the machine beeped once and of a gassy form with two bulbous eyes.
"Gastly, the Gas Pokemon. It's said that gas emanating from a graveyard was possessed by the grievances of the deceased and thus became a Pokemon. Gastly is largely composed of gaseous matter. However, when exposed to a strong wind, the gaseous body quickly dwindles away—groups of this Pokemon cluster under the eaves of houses to escape the ravages of wind.
This Gastly male and knows the moves: Lick, Confuse Ray, Hypnosis, and Mean Look. Gastly has the Egg Move(s): Perish Song. This move is locked until further indication. Its ability is Levitate, which gives this Pokemon complete immunity to all ground-type moves."
Boss was right about you. You're a bit stronger than an average starter Pokemon. Although, training ghost are notoriously tricky.
He wasn't having doubts, not by any means. Ash was only being realistic. Ghost-type Pokemon, besides being dangerous, presented a remarkably treacherous trial of controlling them. They were supernatural, even amongst other Pokemon and their origins were still largely unknown. Yes, certain ghost-type Pokemon were confirmed to only be born from the souls of other dead Pokemon and humans. Unsettling, yes, but concerning most of all. It added a layer of volatility to the situation, not unlike dragon-type Pokemon. That's why they were typically lumped together in a group with dragons. Not for their power but their natures.
While working in the corral a few weeks ago, Ash found a notably small Gastly haunting one of the sheds. He took great pleasure in scaring him shitless and anyone else who tried removing him. Once he realized that extracting him by force would do more damage than leaving him there, Ash tried another angle. He persuaded the Gastly to depart instead of forcibly vacating it. It took a while, but eventually, it, no, he listened to him. Since then, Gastly hadn't left him alone for one bizarre reason, or another Ash had yet to decipher.
Ash wouldn't lie; he found the little thing amusing and stubbornly persistent. He was a shrewd little bastard. Ash was never all that interested in the starter Pokemon Boss handed out. They were excellent Pokemon, especially Charizard and Venusaur, his two favorites of the trio. He never found a connection with their species, though. The Gengar line, however, now that was another story. They were a respectable line of Pokemon that demanded vigilance from any opponent.
Gastly also had the only temperament in a Pokemon Ash would ever train; staunch determination. He held no personal interest in Pokemon that were not resolute in their interest in becoming powerful. Ash loved Pokemon, but he was not a contest seeker. No, he was a trainer who aspired to stand above the rest. There were certain things he couldn't teach. No trainer could, no matter their proficiency. If the Pokemon didn't want the power enough, they would not do all they could to strive and gain it.
They had to fear failure more than they loved the exhilaration of winning. Gastly had it; the spark Ash was looking for. Of those three Pokemon Oak had set out, none of them had it. All but one, actually. Squirtle was sharp. Attentive. If a bit cocky. He wanted to be stronger, and he hated being weak. A part of Ash sympathized with the water-type. Ash might've been satisfied with choosing him instead if Gary wasn't so captivated by the idea of having a Squirtle.
Yet, he was stuck with a Gastly no one wanted.
And Ash… he was perfectly fine with that.
They both wanted to be the best in the world and would stop at nothing to achieve that goal. To them, those reasons, those ambitions were their only pillars of life—the only things that mattered. Those were their wills to live. They only lived to be the best, and that's how they connected.
They were the same.
As Ash had stopped at the ocean on the far-right side of Route 1, he stared at the broad, pure blue set of water. His eyes scanned it, and he relaxed into the ocean breeze. He had been traveling for around an hour now. Once the ocean had come into view, he stopped. This is where he wanted to be.
The ocean always had a certain allure to him. The mysteries of the world fascinated him endlessly. Their wonderous, unknown qualities that had been forgotten to time vexed Professor Oak. Ash found himself in a similar mindset. Legends of old, past wars, famous individuals—scholars, generals, scientists alike—they were all a series of puzzles he wanted to decipher. The ocean was a massive one.
His stiff smile ran a little softer. It was noticeable, especially to his partner floating beside him. Gastly was mindful not to get too close. Humans couldn't handle inhaling substantial doses of the gasses and chemicals his body was made up of.
Gastly chittered his miniature fangs nervously. Ash cocked his head questioningly. Gastly repeated his actions, only this time, he bounced his gaze between his trainer and the water.
"Why are we stopping here?"
Gastly closed his eyes, triumphantly chittering.
"Do you know what migration is?" The Gas Pokemon floated in a circle counter-clockwise. Ash took that as a no. A simple shake of his head would have sufficed. "It's where certain species of Pokemon journey incredible distances, most commonly in great numbers. I read that water-type Pokemon in Hoenn frequently travel down here at the beginning of winter. It's November. Sometimes they come up around Cinnabar Island, near here in Route 1, over to Sunny Town, Seafoam Islands, and even Vermillion City."
Gastly bobbed his head understandingly. His trainer was waiting to catch a Pokemon. That was simple enough, he supposed. He thought most trainers wandered aimlessly and threw those aggravating balls at anything that moved. Not his trainer, though. He waited patiently for a Pokemon to show themselves in planned accordance.
Turns out, they waited for hours. Then two more days passed. Finally, camp had been set up. Ash began his training, which mostly involved practicing pre-determined battle scenarios and performing all the techniques he could already do. His trainer mentioned that the more he did his techniques, the easier they became. He promised that they would transfer seamlessly over to the battlefield. Gastly decided to trust him. He chose to become his Pokemon, after all. What kind of fighter would he be if he did not give his trainer the benefit of the doubt at least once?
After three days of no sightings, Gastly questioned whether or not he was being needlessly stubborn or overly hopeful. Whatever it was, he was frustrated at remaining in the same spot for this long. He wanted to fight, to battle. Not sit around, licking trees, or using Hypnosis on weak bug-types. Gastly couldn't wait to move again, to actually battle another trainer's Pokemon—he wanted to experience the unexpected.
Then, the unexpected occurred.
He had been floating through this homemade obstacle course his trainer had made. Supposedly, it would help his speed, assist in his ability to travel through terrain efficiently, and evade attacks. It was obscure, but it was fun. At least, more fun than licking trees, that is. Then, just as he was about to go through the course for the hundredth time today, a shout made his body jump.
"Gastly!" his trainer shouted out.
The Pokemon, in mention, immediately flew to his trainer's side. His tiny fangs pattered anxiously. Ash pointed to the ocean, where a honey-colored fin jutted from the white caps. A grin sprang to his face, and the purple haze surrounding him churned excitedly.
"Get its attention. Lure it back here. Don't fight it in the water."
Gastly stuck out his tongue playfully. The ghost casually floated across the rippling water, taunting the Pokemon that swam dangerously close to the surface. Ash watched, torn between bemusement and exasperation, as Gastly blew a raspberry. The water churned as a fish-shaped Pokemon fired out of a swell like a mission being freed from its silo. Gastly gasped as he was very nearly struck.
Ash paid close attention. It was fast. He only managed to catch a glimpse. It was only out of the water for the briefest of moments. The way it leaped, the general shape, its color, Ash knew what species it was. It was perhaps the worst water-type Pokemon he could have encountered with his ghost-type.
"Gastly!" he barked. It was a single-word order. The mischievous ghost knew what it meant. Sulking as if he was a child who had just gotten his lollipop stolen by daddy, he floated back over.
Ash watched as that same fin rose from the white caps. Gastly needn't be warned. Knowing him, he'd traveled back to land to tease it. He knew it was eagerly following him. Unfortunately, Gastly did not realize the typing of the Pokemon they just picked a fight with. Ash considered his options.
He could flee. Most wild water types were not so confident fighting outside of water. Especially ones that were not humanoid in shape. When it launched from the ocean again, surfacing on land only a few feet from Gastly, he saw this Pokemon didn't revel in the norm. His interest was piqued. Typical fish-shaped water types did not go out of their way to battle outside of the water. They were more pacifistic as well, known not to rise to petty taunts quickly, quite unlike this Pokemon.
Either it was abnormally strong, arrogant, or misguided (there was a possibility of it being all above), or it was a young one with a chip on its shoulder.
Here, Ash managed to gain a better look at it. Like his previous ascertainment, it was a fish Pokemon. He had a distinct suspicion about what it was exactly. But, seeing it in its glory, there was no mistaking it.
Its body was covered in tiny, sharp denticles. The top half of its spherical body was blue, while the bottom half was red with a murky yellow, four-pointed star below its mouth. It had two sharp, finely pointed dorsal fins above its eyes and a matching pelvic fin on its belly. Its pectoral fins were similar in color. The caudal fin was composed of two red spines with a thin yellow membrane stretched between them. Ash knew from his studies that those caudal fins were naturally tuned with an edge. This particular species of Pokemon used them to slaughter their prey in a stunning display of brutality and efficiency. They were predators with solid instincts.
War machines, they were. In Ash's opinion, they were one of the finest hunters in the ocean. Every time they migrated south for food, they tore through like a hurricane.
To record his interaction with one, Ash aimed his Pokedex.
"Carvanha, the Savage Pokemon. Carvanha has powerful jaws and razor-sharp teeth able to chew through solid steel. Carvanha will form packs and attack any invaders in its territory.
This Carvanha is male and smaller than my database's average recordings. Probability of it having a condition that limits physical growth... 21.9-percent. Probability of it being adolescent... 87.04-percent."
So it is young…
That did make sense. Adolescent Carvanha were known to be very territorial and more aggressive than older Carvanha. And yes, Carvanha did form packs. However, Sharpedo, the evolution of Carvanha, were lone hunters. Since there were no schools or gatherings of other Carvanha swimming around, it seemed like this took more after his evolution than he should've.
It was why Ash didn't want to believe it was a Carvanha. Catching them was usually a perilous task, even for more experienced trainers. They commonly swam in pods, tallying up numbers into the dozens. If trainers tried to capture one of them, you would also need to combat the rest of the pod. They were fiercely territorial. They protected what was theirs, including their pod.
A lone Carvanha was perfectly fine with fighting outside the water.
Now, that was unusual. Ash never personally encountered this deadly species, but he did study them once or twice. Their habits, feeding patterns, and migration preferences. The list went on.
And, of course, it was a dark-type. One of the two weaknesses of ghosts. This could have been a lot worse, like it could have been a Sharpedo, but it was still far from a favorable situation. If this Carvanha was even remotely powerful, this could very well mean the death of his Pokemon and the end of his own life.
Maybe that should have filled him with panic. Facing death shouldn't be easy. Instead, Ash found himself feeling… nothing. It was just like anything else, really. There were real stakes here. After his mother passed, the unbearable weight of stress that he felt during that entire ordeal made everything seem mundane. The situations where he truly felt stress were few and far between. Some part of him wished he could hear his heart beating in his ears as his adrenaline pumped fervently.
But his ears were vacant, save for the light chirping of evening birds. His breathing was calm, eyes steady as he stared down the carnivorous Pokemon, even as the orange sun beat down on the ocean, giving it a short, ethereal golden glow. His heart beat typically.
Carefully, with a measured breath, Ash said, "Defensive position. Prioritize evasion."
Gastly whined, disappointed that he couldn't just attack. He listened to his trainer, though, despite his internal frustrations. Gastly understood the dangers he was facing. This Pokemon was strong—stronger than him. While that only furthered his excitement, he grasped the direness of the situation. His trainer knew better. It wasn't faith; it was an understanding of his capabilities. He was more intelligent than the other snot-nosed brats he so loved pranking.
Carvanha fired up at them. Ash noted the vermilion glint to its formidable teeth. Poison Fang. Gastly, being a poison-type himself, would have resisted the move. But Ash wanted to prevent him from sustaining any damage whatsoever. This was their first true challenge. A confrontation they would not get away from unless they prevailed. This Carvanha was young, yes. That didn't mean it couldn't be powerful. Scouting its abilities first would be wise before he had Gastly absorb attacks.
A quick order to evade it wasn't necessary. Ash said it anyway. Gastly swerved out of the way. Carvanha turned on a dime at the near miss, attacking Gastly's back. The smack of its tail could be heard back where Ash was standing. Gastly barely refrained from splattering into a tree. Ash could tell that it hurt. Though, not much damage was done, or so he hoped. It didn't stop it from hurtling a lot like Ash imagined it did.
He's clearly on the same level as Gastly. Carvanha will resist Lick, and that isn't exactly a hard-hitting move to begin with, and that's Gastly's only damaging move. Ash was at a crossroads regarding what to do. His brain had already formed several ideas. He ran the probability of each succeeding without the bias of fear, false confidence, or any other factors that mattered little to none.
I could extend the battle, have Gastly evade as much as possible, and just survive. But tiring Carvanha out may as well be impossible. That was the first idea that arrived.
Not his proudest moment.
I came here to catch a Pokemon. I have more than enough Pokeballs. Or… or I can use the Pokeballs as a distraction. It takes a few seconds for a healthy, low-level Pokemon to break free from one. That should give us enough time to flee.
That could work. The probability of success was higher than the rest of his near-dozen propositions. But, marginally, his chances with the other ideas were not favorable either. The longer he sat, complacent, and considered what his options were, the less chance his most probable option would succeed. It was simply a fact that he had to accept. There was no time, no more anyway, for careful contemplation. The only chance he had was if he acted now.
Carvanha charged, fangs glittering with that same ominous tinge. Gastly barely dodged. Ash could tell that the ghost-type was beginning to lose confidence in himself. The speed Carvanha attacked with startled him. It was evident that Gastly never battled with an opponent on his level or beyond. Ash needed to get him to stop thinking. That was his job. If Gastly continued to dwell, this battle would be lost before the climax.
"Confuse Ray!" Ash ensured that his voice was louder than it needed to be. Gastly was trapped in the musings of his uncertain mind. He needed to jar him free of it. The shout had its desired effect as Gastly shook his head, stunned.
"Confuse Ray," Ash repeated, lower this time.
Gastly ducked beneath that chomping maw. Eye contact made, Gastly's own glowed a simmering crimson. Immediately, the light in Carvanha's teeth faded. It stumbled, beady eyes glancing everywhere.
Carvanha stumbled, clearly struggling. Then, it fell on its side, eyes closed. Small jolts spread throughout it as its subconsciously fought against confusion.
Ash went to run, but he paused. His deceitful brain wormed an idea into consideration. Carvanha was barely conscious, defenseless. Pokemon under confusion were much easier to catch than those with a perfectly healthy mind. A lot of status moves had comparable effects. Although, confusion was leaps and bounds ahead of simple paralysis, poisoning, or burns. Freezing a Pokemon was the closest in terms of assisted capture rate. Since Hypnosis would not affect dark-type Pokemon, he saw no reason to compare confusion to sleepness.
He came here to catch a Pokemon. Ash waited days for non-native Kanto Pokemon to swim down this way. He wasn't about to make those hours he spent awake, vigilantly watching for days on end. Before he knew it, a Pokeball was found in his grasp.
The longer I wait, the more chance he has of breaking free from the confusion. But was the risk of a failed capture waking the Carvanha worth the idea of capturing him? Ash clenched his jaw, palms going sweat. He didn't even notice his perspiration when he flung the ball.
His decision was made. Gastly floated around the downed Pokemon, anxiously waiting for his trainer's command. When Carvanha dissipated in a red glow, retreating into a Pokeball, he blinked owlishly. Ash viewed the process, a dry swallow working down his gullet. The ball shook once, twice, then it paused forebodingly. He knew what that meant. It was the split-second tell before a Pokemon escaped the ball. Ash opened his mouth to shout warningly—
The ball wobbled.
The wonderous click that followed was deafening to hear. To Ash, the entire world ceased to exist. He zeroed in on that ball. It remained perfectly upright. Carvanha did not explode from it as he expected it to. Did he hear right? He questioned himself moments prior. Obviously, he had.
Why did I do that? Ash wondered, a cold knot tying in his belly. It was illogical. Ash never did anything that wasn't based on logic. He prided himself on that. But here, he not only made a decision off the opposite, but it was downright idiotic. That wasn't rational at all. It was moronic at best and slow-witted and precariously dangerous at its worst.
He cursed himself. His self-deprecation ended when Gastly hovered over to him. Carvanha's Pokemon was laid carefully atop his formless head. Ash noted Gastly's shrewd, simpering smile with disdain. He almost killed them, yet Gastly was naively praising himself and his trainer—the trainer that nearly cost them their lives.
Gastly dropped the ball. Ash barely pulled himself out of his stump quick enough to catch it before it fell to the grass. Shaking his head, he resolved to deal with this later.
"Great job," he whispered to the ghost-type. A hint of a smile was on his lips. It was feigned. Gastly deserved to be praised. He battled beyond his expectations. He would not make the little one suffer for his own misguided rulings.
"You were perfect."
A lie. There was no such thing as perfect. It went against everything he believed. Nevertheless, he couldn't bring himself to deflate Gastly's congratulatory ecstatic mood.
In the proceeding sum of days, Ash packed up camp, intent on moving on from Route 1. While he traveled, he took the liberty of caring for Gastly and Carvanha's wounds with the aid of potion and good 'ol fashion medication. Getting Carvanha subdued after the battle proved to be an arduous task. It was, however, what he trained for. All the trainers that graduated from some form of Pokemon school knew how to handle Pokemon after you capture them.
While Carvanha was still very much wild, he at least obeyed his commands. So far. Ash couldn't put his relief in words. Gastly was nervous throughout the whole process. The little ghost-type wouldn't admit it, but Carvanha had terrified him. They healed relatively well after that, and it had only taken a few hours to fully recover with the application of heal potions. Potions were remarkably expensive. While he had a high-paying job for his age, he couldn't use them carelessly. Not until he battled trainers and could depend on spoils from wagers.
As they healed, Ash reluctantly decided to have a conversation with Carvanha. Surprisingly, after healing the water-dark type, he seemed much more… passive? Ash didn't know if that was the correct term to describe him. He was actively trying to kill him. Carvanha remained sour about his defeat. More specifically, the methods used. Losing to trickery bugged him. Ash could tell. Strangely enough, Ash wasn't sure that dissatisfaction wasn't aimed at him at all. Carvanha was angry at himself for losing to such underhanded tactics.
Maybe it was pride. Ash wasn't sure. He never understood emotions all that well. Actions and intent, yes, emotions, on the other hand, eluded him. They were illogical. Emotions didn't make sense to him. So ash chose to stick with what did: battling. But, despite his resolution to do just that, he found himself deliberating on why Carvanha was now, in a way, subdued.
Ash considered pride because it was the most obvious. Carvanha lost to a trainer. He was captured. If he made himself a nuisance, he wouldn't be getting himself anywhere. He lost; he was captured. It happened. No use in crying about it. Ash believed this to be the most likely, as he reckoned he would behave in like manner.
Carvanha was far from joyful. He wasn't cracking smiles or lolling about gleefully. Yet he wasn't trying to bite his head off, which Ash was satisfied with. Perhaps Carvanha accepted his defeat because he was challenged first. Well, after Gastly's taunts, that is. Carvanha, in all actuality, attacked first. He did not start the altercation, though.
On their last day in Viridian Forest, Ash determined that he would start the water-dark type's training. He didn't make this decision lightly, far from it. He hesitated for almost an hour before bringing it up, fearing how Carvanha would react.
When he did, Carvanha almost seemed relieved, like he was happy to finally have something to do besides resting his ball. Ash found that Carvanha held a degree of scorn for the device, unlike Gastly. He found it humorous that they were alike in some ways yet complete opposites in others. If he wasn't always on edge, watching carefully for a potential attack by Carvanha, he would have teased them for it. However, Ash wisely kept his amusement to himself. No need to poke a complacent Ursaring.
For Carvanha, he appreciated the training. It was strenuous, both physically and mentally. He wasn't used to such stimulating environments. His life basically only amounted to hunting, eating, and sleeping. It was dull, agonizingly so. Not much else. Here, he had activities to partake in that pulled him out of his comfort zone. Carvanha initially abhorred those changes, but as the hours ticked by, he found enjoyment in the least expected place. The ghost vexed him with his pranks. Carvanha respected the tiny thing's fearlessness, but he also despised it.
There were a few altercations he couldn't solve with the threat of bloody violence. No matter what he tried, short of ridding the world of one more ghost never dismayed him. He proved to be moderately tenacious, he begrudgingly conceded. Carvanha watched Gastly from afar as the little one trained. He had guts. Carvanha was determined to show them to him one day. Until then, he'd accept this human's training offer and free nourishment.
He was beginning to realize that getting captured was far from the worst thing that could happen to him. The human, his name was Ash, not that he would ever use it, explained his reasoning for capturing him. Apparently, he wanted a water-type Pokemon to face this trainer, Brock. A Gym Leader. Whatever the hell that was, Carvanha thought. Human hierarchy bored him. Although, that disinterest quickly faded when Ash promised a challenging battle. His pride demanded recompense for his embarrassing defeat.
This trainer, Brock, would have to provide that to him.
There was a mindset that made Carvanha respect this human. He demanded the best from the ghost and himself. Normally, he despised those who had the gall to demand something of him. He swam alone to avoid pretentious pod leaders for that exact reason. It's why he wished so dearly to evolve one day—to have all the power to make those he shared the sea with fear him. This human held an akin aspiration. There was not an ounce of fear in this human's soul. But, much like him, he had the weight of a grand ambition crushing his shoulders.
Carvanha adjusted while also training and having the occasional 'conversation' with his trainer. He noticed that he was a quiet human. He wasn't one for words. Pointless, meaningless ones, anyhow. Although, he could tell that he was intelligent. The battling strategies he employed during training proved that. Furthermore, he found himself impressed at Ash's general knowledge of Pokemon. If the human ever talked, it was always about training, battling, or Pokemon in some way, shape, or form.
Ash glanced up from his Pokenav. It informed him he was approximately eleven miles from Viridian City. He'd been traveling for five days now. With four hours of walking per day, he could journey a decent distance. The time he spent lingering by the ocean harshly affected his average traveling pace. Ash didn't care. He went out with a plan in mind. Ash stuck to it. He wanted to catch a formidable water-type Pokemon before he reached Pewter City.
No doubt, Gary was already in Pewter. Ash wouldn't be surprised if Gary had already won his badge by now. He already had a respectable water-type in his arsenal. Defeating the youngest and weakest gym leader in Kanto with a water-type starter—an immediate type advantage—should be easy for Gary.
Okay, maybe not easy, but he'll definitely have an easier job than the poor sap who chose Charmander as his starter. That kid was in an even worse situation than he was before he captured Carvanha.
Leaf, a competent trainer he grew up with, undoubtedly chose Bulbasaur.
However, he wasn't sure if she left in the same group of three as Gary. This year, there was nine trainers that claimed sponsorship from Professor Oak. The first set of trainers to leave Pallet and the neighboring towns and cities, like Viridian City, would be Gary, himself, and two other trainers. Ash wasn't privy to the identities of the other two. Leaf could have very well been in that group, or she could have in the group that left last, for example.
She'd rambled on endlessly for years about how she wanted to be a grass-type Pokemon master. If she were anyone else, Ash would have chalked her claims up to another trainer with ambitions their weak work-ethic or natural talent could not hope to back up. Leaf, however, was a natural, much like Gary, though not as quite as talented. Be that as it may, she studied more than he did. It seemed to even them out, Ash once noted. Gary saw her as an intellectual equal, a feat not many could hope to achieve. She was one of the few that was spared by his petty bullying. Though, Ash knew it wasn't her intelligence that caused that.
Ash figured it must have something to do with Gary's massive crush on her.
If Ash cared enough, he was sure he would have been able to foster a relationship with Gary. What would be the point, though? Friendships were ultimately a waste of time for him. What would he gain from being friends with Gary Oak? Nothing but a giant headache. If Gary wanted to be friends, he would have extended an offer years ago. Instead, all Ash received from the Oak was constant pretentious bullying.
He understood the desire to connect with others. Ash yearned to connect with others just as much as everyone else. He did want to have companionships, girlfriends, but he was ambitious. Yes, he wanted friendships and connections, but wanted nothing more than to be the best. He wasn't a natural genius like Gary, his boss, or even Leaf, for that matter. They were effortless prodigies. Everything they touched turned to gold. When he was young, he was painfully average in school while he tried more than half of the other students. Gary joked around, slept during class, barely put forth effort, and constantly scored in the top-three percentile in grade school.
After his mother's death, he wanted to be remarkable. He had to be different. Ash couldn't afford to waste time engaging in friendly conversations, going to school dances, and taking pretty girls out on dates. It was hard not to feel envy of Gary's nonchalant success for that exact reason.
When Professor Oak adopted him after his mother died, he had both of them enrolled in the same prestigious trainer school in Celadon City.
Gary performed excellently, as predicted. He scored head and shoulders above his peers. Gary got all the girls, outshined everyone else while putting in effort that could barely be categorized as effort. All while Ash struggled to keep pace, studying upwards of eighteen hours per day. That institute had a four-percent acceptance rate. Others like him were forced to sacrifice even to scrape by. That was just to enter. No amount of Professor Oak's palm greasing or money would get them to accept him if he could not perform to their standards.
Ash knew that being average wasn't enough. Even if he was average in a school of geniuses. To be the best, you have to be the best. Better than the ordinary trainers, better than the above-average ones—better than the crème de la crème...
... better than Gary Oak.
For a while, Ash was jealous of his talent. He was able to have a life beyond school while being in the top-two percent of a school filled with geniuses. But after a while, Ash began to admire his own efforts. If Gary wanted to fool around constantly, refusing to put in work, that was okay. Ash knew he would be better than Gary. Even if he had to study twenty-four hours a day, he would be better than him.
Gary was a benchmark for him. A stepping stone. How could he ever call himself the best if he couldn't surpass Gary Oak? When he caught up, when he finally started exceeding Gary's scores, it was like he was injected with a perpetual high. Success was intoxicating. It was the only drug he would ever need. Failure, likewise, was the only motivator he would ever need. Yet, when he ultimately surpassed Gary in every category, the Oak didn't seem to care.
After years of envying him and using him as a stepping stone, Ash saw no reason to entertain him in his thoughts anymore. There was no point. Gary was useful to him only as a motivator, a person he could use to gauge his progress. When he stopped being useful in those areas, Ash no longer thought about him. The bullying, their previous childhood friend. It all stopped mattering. Now that Gary ceased occupying space in his head, Ash could study even more.
Despite his feelings toward Gary, Ash never hated him. He never even disliked him. On the contrary, Ash appreciated him because he might not have been able to push himself to study as much without him.
As he traversed through the forest, Ash noted an abrupt updraft of wind—southern-facing wind. He was traveling north. Grey clouds were growing closer. They were nimbus clouds, he observed. It wouldn't be long before the rainstorm struck. Maybe ten minutes if he continued at his current pace.
He went to retrieve one last piece of information from his Nav before he stowed it away—a monstrous roar split across the forest.
A feminine scream pierced his ears.
Ash snapped his mapping device shut, eyes dancing throughout the forest. He eyed all around him, prepared for an ambush of some kind. When nothing came, he realized that he wasn't being attacked, but someone else was.
I shouldn't, but…
Curiosity was an awful thing.
Ash took off, heading a degree just shy of eastbound. He ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, then over a substantial log. Ash's shoulder knocked into a tree he hadn't seen. A sharp intake of breath invaded his lungs. He gasped and somehow managed to recover by falling into a roll. Ash was back on his feet in a blink of an eye. A hundred meters into the forest, his shoulder ached persistently. He rejected the pain, continuing his pathing until he tore through a field of dangling vines.
A skid of his feet, Ash's ability to breathe was stolen from him as he stared off the ledge of a hundred-foot drop. The sounds of rushing water taunted him. He'd almost launched himself off into a waterfall. Another scream yanked him out of his momentary lapse of fear. Down into the pulsating river, he saw a Gyarados rise from the crest. Its monstrous roar was enough to make him flinch. He saw the perpetrator of the scream from earlier.
It was a girl with bright red hair, though that's all he could make out in his blurred haste. Ash telegraphed the best possible route down. He vaulted over a sharp rock, landing a crouch. He shut his eyes as his knees buckled painfully. Another ten-foot drop on uneven terrain caused him to nearly whimper.
Once he reached the very bottom, he'd already formulated a plan.
Two Pokeballs found his grasp. Ash flung them upwards. His two Pokemon appeared in a flicker of blue. Orders came to mind immediately. They escaped from his lips without any hesitation, without any fear.
"Gastly, Hypnosis, cover Carvanha's Focus Energy!" the psychic energy enveloped the raging Gyarados. Ash, for just a second, could have thought he saw the beast's eyes close. But a furious roar sent his hair wavering. His resolve weakened fleetingly until he reinforced it. "Gastly, Hypnosis again! Carvanha, Poison Fang!"
Once again, the Hypnosis did zilch except stall it for a mere moment. Minor in the grand scheme of things, but it allowed Carvanha to gather energy—
... that was not Poison Fang.
Carvanha dove into the water. Like a bullet, he fired up, water spinning around him. The crown of Carvanha's head bashed into the Gyarados. Stunned, Ash would have felt more of a pleasant surprise had the attack had any effect. Gyarados barely even felt it, by the looks of it. It bellowed, slamming the smaller Pokemon with its head, knocking it into the river.
The enormous serpentine Pokemon spawned pure energy in its maw. Ash heard the girl gasp. To be honest, he'd forgotten she was there. His curiosity led him here. He just had to know what was causing the ruckus—what was threatening this woman, or teenage girl, he now understood.
Hyper Beam… if it fires that, it'll kill us all. Gastly's Hypnosis had no effect either time. Carvanha was overpowered. This girl has no Pokemon of her own. Otherwise, she'd have used them already. Or she does have them, and they're dead. Either way, this doesn't bode well for any of us. There's only one way we get out of this—
Ash was going to do what he should have done against Carvanha. He recalled both of his Pokemon. One of his hands grabbed this girl by her wry arm, the other, a spare Pokeball. As he turned, her feet slipping in the mud-soiled sand, he dragged her with him as they ran. With all his strength, he hauled the Pokeball. The diminutive sound of warping barely made it to his ears.
Ash did not stop. He did not look back. Not even once.
He'd been tempted, but he quelled his damned curiosity, even as they broke through the hem of a patchy forest.
Ash wondered, what if, somehow, he caught the Gyarados—
Another wail pierced the heavens. Rageful, unlike anything he'd ever heard. Ash found it in himself to snort.
Of course not. He wasn't lucky enough to have that miracle happen twice in one week. After passing a tree line, the girl collapsed out of his grasp. Once again, Ash forgot she was there.
"T-thank you," she said quietly, hands on her knees, sucking in air as if it was going out of style.
Ash stared at her, looking into her eyes before speaking, completely ignoring the appreciative.
"What were you doing?"
"W-what do you mean?"
"I asked you what you were doing."
"Nothing!" she cried.
"No matter what people say, Gyarados don't attack pointlessly. In fact," Ash added pointedly, "they're generally calm creatures. They just have horrible tempers."
"I…" she clearly had reservations about divulging the truth. "Why do you care? You aren't a cop, are you?" the youth rolled his eyes.
"I could care less about bringing you to justice. There's no such thing. I'm curious. What did you do to piss it off?" She wondered what caused the gods to have this odd young man save her.
"I tried to catch it, and I was doing some damage!" she added hurriedly as if that made everything better. "But after two of my Pokemon fainted, it started to get really mad and thrashed my last Pokemon and—and before I knew it, I was… paralyzed. I couldn't move a damn muscle. And then it started charging up a Hyper Beam—I thought I was dead. I would have been… had it not been for you. Thank you. Thank you so much."
"I didn't save you."
"What are you talking about? You literally swept in like a white knight! I'd be dead without you!"
"I literally did not," he said. "I was saving my own skin. Turns out, the only thing you and I have in common is we both did something stupid that almost got us killed."
She didn't believe that for a second. "You could have run off by yourself. I was frozen. You knew that. That's why you grabbed me and took me with you."
Ash's schooled his features in perplexion. She was right, wasn't she?
He could have walked the other way he came on that cliff. Nothing was forcing him to go down there. Ash could have left her there to die. Everyone else would have. Yet, he didn't.
Why? Was the query that first blipped into his mind. I figured out what the roar belonged to. Why didn't I leave her to die? I didn't want her to die, but I put my own life in peril for hers—I knew this was her fault, one way or another, even back then. Her death wouldn't be on my conscience. So, why didn't I leave her, then?
"What's wrong with you? You did something amazing, and you're refuting it!" What was wrong with this guy?!
"I'm refuting that I'm some hero like you're trying to make me out to be," he said with an infuriating calmness and certainty. "There is no such thing as heroes. I'm just an idiot who got lucky and stopped an even bigger idiot from getting murdered by a situation she created."
"That's not true. Heroes exist all over the place. They're people who save lives. Like you did with me. I know it was my fault," she said glumly. "If you died trying to help me, I would've never forgiven myself."
"Not that you would have lived long enough to feel regret."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"I was your only chance of survival. If I die, you die right after."
She blushed, feeling like an idiot. "Oh. Right." Her hand wandered to his chest, and she squinted her eyes. "Wait, why aren't you breathing hard? We just ran half a mile, and your heart it's beating normally. We were nearly killed, and you're completely calm!"
That wasn't much of a shock. It'd been a long time since he genuinely experienced a situation where his heart was ready to leap from his chest, with the exception of rigorous physical exercise. Ever since Team Rocket—she watched as his hands tensed, balling for a short second—it was hard to feel such exhilaration.
"Gyarados are not to be trifled with. Especially wild ones. They're volatile creatures. The cause of the majority of young trainer causalities is premature and foolish capture attempts of wild Pokemon. Gyarados are up there in the top five of the most dangerous wild Pokemon in Kanto. You were seconds away from becoming another statistic," he said, ignoring the sudden clamminess that washed over his palms.
"That Carvanha—" she tried to bring moisture to her cotton mouth. "He's yours, right? I know they've been migrating from Hoenn, along with a lot of other water-type Pokemon from the north. That's why I'm asking. This river actually leads to the ocean, so he could have swum upstream, which would make sense for how a Carvanha could have ended up in that river… I'm rambling, aren't I?"
Ash nodded. He'd seen more than his fair share of nervous ramblings from his boss to know the best thing to do was to wait until they were finished. Any interruptions he tried would have gone in one ear and traveled out the other.
"Sorry," she murmured, embarrassed. "I get carried away with water-type Pokemon. I know, I'm super obsessed. I want to become a water-type master one day."
That told him a few details about her. Frankly, none of them were that interesting. Wanting to master a specific type was one of the most common ambitions. Every child grew up with a favorite type. If they're fortunate enough to become trainers, they aspire to master that type by either becoming the best so-and-so type trainer or catch every Pokemon of that type. While Ash was fascinated by several types, he was not interested in solely training those specific types. Ghosts, dragons, fairies, and dark-types all captivated his interest.
"He's mine. I caught him recently."
"I'd say you're lucky, but considering what almost happened to us, I think I'll keep that to myself." Ash showed her a smile, grateful for that. He never considered himself lucky. Not even before his mother died of thyroid cancer when he was a boy. "You're pretty young to be a trainer. You're a rookie, aren't you? Either you're older than you look, or I just got out-played by a trainer three years my junior."
"I started my journey a few weeks ago." He had the curtsey to extend his hand. "I'm Ash."
She smiled waveringly. "Misty." She shook his hand tremblingly. The effects of the adrenaline must've been wearing off as the jitters were starting to set in, he observed. "Where are you from, Ash?"
"I'll tell you if you tell me with you're from."
"Okay. I'm from Fuchsia."
"You're lying."
Mist's breath hitched. "How did you know?"
"You told me." She blushed at his dry tone. "You're an awful liar."
"And apparently, a worse trainer if I need some kid to save me."
"You're only a few years older than me."
"Trust me, a few years mean a lot when you're a trainer. It's like comparing a mountain to a molehill," she explained as if he was a little boy.
"Since I was the one who saved you, who's the molehill in this analogy?"
"Funny. You're not going to deflect you're way out of this conversation. Where are you from?"
Ash snorted. "You are capable of sustaining a thought for longer than thirty seconds. You'd be surprised how many people can't. That move usually works flawlessly."
"I'm special. Where are you from."
"Pallet Town."
"Pallet Town?" Misty asked like she was disappointed by the answer. "Huh. That's not what I was expecting at all."
"Disappointed, are you? Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be more interesting. That's my cardinal sin."
"Out of all the people that could have come to my rescue, it's a sarcastic asshole from a random hick town."
"Careful," Ash warned. "That hick has enough money to put your grandkids in debt." He placed a toothpick between his smirking lips. He offered her one. She rudely declined.
"Well, it was very nice to meet you, but I've got places to be and gym leaders to embarrass," he remarked, turning away, leaving in the middle of whatever Misty was about to say.
She stopped and robotically turned to her right. Misty watched Ash walk off with that infuriating smug look on his face.
"T-that no good, smug, good looking- DICK!"
Ash smirked a little as he heard that. A few seconds later, heavy footsteps soon came from behind. He didn't even spare the source of said footsteps the time of day.
"How dare you walk away from me?!" Misty exclaimed as she hovered over his shoulder lividly.
Ash just continued walking, not even blinking at her outburst.
Misty growled, feral. Ash thought, sooner or later, she would start frothing from her mouth. However, her angry tirade ceased when she blinked and looked ahead at the buildings of Viridian City on the horizon.
She then looked at the bored Ash, smiling sheepishly. "S-sorry?"
"Why do you have to say it as a question?"
"Sorry…"
"Stop apologizing. It's a sign of weakness."
"It is not! It's called having accountability."
"Besides holding your own actions accountable, accepting accountability by the threat of others is just a form of guilt manifested by a weak mind. Anyone that asks for an apology is weak and can't stand the thought of being slighted without recompense."
"That's awfully nihilistic and amazingly wrong!"
"Why are you still here?" The sudden inquiry caught her off guard. "Why are you still here?"
"I-um… don't really know to be honest," she said awkwardly. She didn't really know why she was following Ash, but she decided to go with the flow. Ash seemed to understand, or he just didn't care. Misty wasn't sure which was which.
"So, likes, dislikes, family at home?" Misty asked as she followed the younger trainer.
"Likes? Only a few things. Dislikes… too many to count. Family at home? An old man who meddles far too often."
"Your grammar is much better than I thought it would be."
"Because I'm a kid from a hick town?" Misty laughed uneasily. "Relax. If I had a nickel for everyone who commented about where I lived, I wouldn't need to be a trainer."
"I thought you said you were rich."
"I said that hick had enough money to put your grandkids in debt. I never specified which hick." Misty muttered an "Oh" in understanding. The old man he mentioned must be a father or a grandfather with a fortune of some kind.
"That explains how you're so well-spoken."
"He taught me a few things."
"Apparently, how to be a gentleman wasn't one of them."
"Nope. Neither was saving entitled girls from issues they create with their own stupidity. That I seemed to have picked up like a stray dog attracts flees."
"You might be the rudest boy I've ever met!" she fumed visibly. If she were a cartoon character, he was sure there would be steam brimming from her ears.
"How? I haven't even hit on you yet, or asked about your bra size." Misty flushed a scarlet that put her hair to shame. "A 32C. Nice."
"Lecherous pervert!" She went to clobber him, but Ash swerved around the tree. He casually steadied on the path down the cliff. "Get back here!"
"If you insist on trying to assault me, I'm going to have to hit you back."
"You would really hit a girl? Why doesn't that surprise me at all?"
"If that girl is trying to punch me, yes. Don't like it, blame equality and all that jazz. I'm not the guy you want to pick a fight with for that. Just following the example of your ideology."
"You don't strike me as the guy to follow any type of ideology except the one you've made yourself," she commented, and he grinned bashfully.
"Correct-o-mundo. You're smarter than you look. Nice deflection to you as well. It seems like you are capable of some wit, after all. Must be a miracle."
"Must be my kind of miracle if I'm stuck with you," she whispered.
"No one is keeping you here," he pointed out. "You're free to wander off on your own. I'm sure you'll find your way to Viridian City eventually. Even though the sun is obscured, you probably still have your bearings about you."
"And get hoarded by disgusting bug-types? No, thank you," Misty said, certainly. "I'm good. Strength in numbers. Plus, my Pokemon were all knocked out against the Gyarados."
"I'm surprised they aren't dead." The glare she sent made him feel bad. "I didn't mean it that way." He had trouble phrasing certain things. "Gyarados are incredible Pokemon. They must be strong to survive against them."
Misty knew he didn't mean it that way. It didn't stop her from feeling a protective anger flow through her when he spoke about them. For some reason, she thought she was mocking them for their inability to beat a monstrous Gyarados. After he finished his spew, she realized this was his version of apologizing. Guys like him didn't say sorry. He said it outright that he thinks people that do apologize are weak. At least he proved he wasn't a steaming hypocrite—just an asshole with a hero complex.
"Two of my Pokemon were really hurt. My third was only knocked out. They'll be fine in their Pokeballs until I get them to a Pokemon Center."
Smart. Suspended animation kept their injuries from worsening, retaining them in their exact same condition. One of the reasons why Pokeballs were such a magnificent invention that defied the laws of physics entirely. Ash personally didn't know the science behind them and probably never would. Although, he was curious.
They spent the rest of their miniature journey to Viridian City in relative silence. Over the course of the few hours, she broke the silence to make a few inquiries that randomly popped into her mind. She quickly saw that getting actual answers out of him was akin to pulling teeth. Between his deflections, sarcastic replies, or him flat-out ignoring her once, it almost seemed impossible. In due course, he finally answered one question thoughtfully as they arrived, only for her to realize that he was lying.
"Well, I like water-type Pokemon, and I aspire to be a water-type Pokemon Master," she said, her eyes full of excitement, then her expression darkened. "I hate bug-type Pokemon. And I have a family at home, but I don't like them all that much."
Once they entered the Pokemon Center, Ash spoke, "Good goal, I can respect that. Your dislikes, however, are petty," he said flatly, causing her to look at him in shock before it melted into anger. But Misty maintained control of her temper. For once.
"Who are you to call my dislike of bugs petty?!"
"Simple; you dislike an entire species of Pokemon just because you fear them."
"H-how did you know that?!"
"I didn't. You just told me." Misty seethed at that smug, self-righteous look on his face.
However, she stopped herself from exploding because she was in a public place and reigned in her emotions, but she couldn't resist leaving one more comment.
"I don't know who you think you are, buster, but you cannot tell me that I shouldn't be afraid of something."
"Of course, I can. I just did for one," he replied, "fear is voluntary. You want to feel fear; if you didn't, you would have already gotten over it. It's basic human instinct to cringe before your fears, to submit to them. So by definition, you're a coward. Don't be too upset, though. A lot of people are cowards. The ones that say they aren't, only hide their fears better than you do." Which isn't exactly hard when you're advertising them.
Ash left, and Misty stood in the center of the store, completely still with her eyes abroad, her cheeks flushed with a cloud of rage hanging over her head.
"Hello, young man. How may I be of service?" The resident Nurse Joy greeted him.
He met some of them in Celadon. The school he went to required third and fourth-year students to spend forty hours under a Nurse Joy as an assistant each year. Supposedly, they wanted to increase prospective trainers' familiarity with trained medical staff like Nurse Joy's while instilling confidence in Pokecenters and learning about first-aid.
Ash enjoyed his hours in Pokecenters. They were deeply entertaining. He learned quite a bit from them. They were ecstatic at the prospect of teaching young minds about medicine. Ash initially thought that his time would be wasted—time that could be better spent studying Pokemon. He quickly learned that there were far worse kinds of people to learn from than Nurse Joy's. It turned out to be a valuable way to spend his time. He understood how to treat numerous human and Pokemon wounds. These skills would come in handy many times out in the field. He came to appreciate their expertise and gladly put himself at their mercy. The Nurse Joy's at Celadon were some of the finest doctors in Kanto. He would have to be a short-sighted fool not to see the worth of these clinic hours.
"Hi," he said somewhat stiffly. This Pokemon Center was bustling with activity. There had to be at least thirty trainers crowding the lobby and just as many staff. Nurses were running all over the place, scurrying off to do one task or another. It was identical to the pandemonium of the various Pokemon Centers and hospitals in metropolitan cities. "My Pokemon need a checkup."
He placed two balls on her desk. His palm was still clutching the left one meaningfully.
"I recently caught a Carvanha. He's not what I would call domesticated yet."
Nurse Joy shared a honey-rich laugh. "They never are, young man."
"You have experience with treating them?"
"I do. A lot of us take periods to practice in other regions so that we can learn how to treat other kinds of Pokemon. Or, in my case, I lived in Hoenn since I was a little girl."
"Why did you come here? Kanto, I mean."
"Why not remain in Hoenn? Why does anyone do anything?" The Joy smiled pleasantly. "I met someone here."
"You fell in love."
Nurse Joy let her fingers run rampant on her keyboard. Finally, she placed the two balls on a device Ash recognized. It was used to scan the occupants of each Pokeball. It was hooked up to her computer, and the data was transferred faultlessly.
"You say that like it's a bad thing. May I see your trainer ID?"
"Oh. Right. Here, I'll do you one better." Ash slid his Pokedex over. She graciously accepted it. Nurse Joy injected a tiny cable into one of the slots in his device. Immediately, through the glare of her screen, he could see his picture blow up. She must've been inspecting his entire profile.
"Pokedex's are so convenient. It's great the newer generation of trainers are all required to have one. They make my job much easier."
"Mine too," Ash said. Nurse Joy continued working until she saw a blotch of red staining her counter. Pausing, she turned, noting a distinct handprint.
"Let me see your hand, please," she requested, polite as all the other Joys. Ash, confused, did so until he saw his right hand covered in red. The palm was smeared with dirt as well. "Young man, you're bleeding. Come with me. I'll get you checked out. Mary, can you cover for me?"
One of the fellows smiled from behind the tall, circular desk. "Sure thing. How long will you be?"
"Not long," she assured her.
Nurse Joy took a notepad, a clipboard, and a pen. She walked into one of the diagnostic rooms. When Ash entered, she closed the door behind him. She gestured for him to take a seat on the examination bed. The paper cloth crumbled beneath his bottom as he uncomfortably shifted.
"Please take off your top."
"Do I have to? I just nicked myself on the way here. It's probably nothing." Ash moved his arm to prove his point, only for his face to freeze in a wince as an unexpected jolt of pain shot throughout the entire limb.
"Yes, I'm sure. Your reaction proves there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You may go, young man."
Ash snorted. "I don't remember Nurse Joy's being so sarcastic."
"You sound like you're acquainted." Ash removed his jacket while Nurse Joy helped him strip away his t-shirt.
"Celadon Pokemon Institute."
Nurse Joy nodded. "They make their students spend time in Pokemon Centers."
"And hospitals. I guess you're acquainted with them as well?" Ash returned her own question to her. Nurse Joy spied his back, a frown marring her delicate features. "It's my shoulder that hurts, doc. Not… not my back."
Nurse Joy did not miss the uncomfortable tone in his voice as she applied some pressure to scarring that blemished his skin. Lips pursed, she moved back on track.
"It says here you were involved in an attack—"
Ash held up his hand. "Look, the problem is with my shoulder, not my back." That was putting it mildly, considering there was a sizable gash running across from the edge of his right pectoral and into the line of his anterior deltoid.
Nurse Joy put the pieces together. The Celadon terrorist attack that involved Team Rocket occurred several years ago—this young man had been a victim of it. Clearly, he did not wish to talk about it. His medical records informed her that he sustained severe injuries approximately when the attack occurred, if her memory served correctly. It didn't explicitly state how he received them, but Nurse Joy did not take ten years of medical training and not learn how to use context clues.
"I'm sorry. You're right. How did this happen?" Ash, prepared this time, kept his face blank as she applied pressure to his shoulder.
"I ran into a tree."
"I was expecting something more exciting."
"The full story is moderately more-so."
"And you won't tell me that story, will you?" Nurse Joy inquired.
"No," he answered, and she made a noise of amusement.
"I thought not." She lightly pressed her fingers along his arm, watching for a reaction. When she found none, she frowned thoughtfully. "That doesn't hurt?"
"It does, but it takes a lot more for me to complain."
Considering the injuries you have been through before, that does not surprise me, unfortunately.
"I see… I believe your shoulder is dislocated. But I won't know until I x-ray your arm."
"I'm all right. I don't need an x-ray."
"Mr. Ketchum—"
"It's okay, seriously. If you think it's dislocated, fix it," Ash told her. He'd end up staying at the Center longer than he wanted if she was really about to put him through an x-ray, then wait for the results, then get treated.
"You don't understand; I can't treat a dislocation if I don't have an x-ray."
"If you're worried about liability, I'll sign whatever relieves you and this Center of it." The look on Nurse Joy's face inferred displeasure. Ash ensured his own conveyed firmness.
"If you are sure…" she handed him a clipboard, pointing to the bottom of the page. Ash accepted her pen, signing his own name. "Why do you not want to get an x-ray, if you don't mind me asking?"
Ash laid on his back, holding out his arm. Nurse Joy realized this wasn't his first time getting a shoulder put back in its socket. She held his arm at a ninety-degree angle, gripping his wrist firmly before slowly, yet strongly pulling his arm back. It was a slow, steady pull. The quick procedure was usually painful, but he barely blinked.
Cleaning the gash and closing it came after.
"I don't want to be here longer than I have to."
"Usually, young men want nothing more than to get in a room alone with me," she said teasingly. Ash laughed through a tiny grunt.
"I'm sure, but you're just not my type." A raised eyebrow told him she didn't believe him. "You're too nice."
"Too nice?!" It was Nurse Joy's turn to laugh. She looped a thread through his pectoral. "That's a first."
When she was done, she had him do a couple of exercises involving his arm. They were light, intending only to gauge his pain and assess his maneuverability. She also finished suturing his gash. Nurse Joy told him to go to another hospital or Pokecenter after fourteen days to get them removed. After they finished, both headed out while she went to the pharmacy window, leaving him to wait at the check-in counter. She returned no longer after.
"Here you are." Nurse Joy handed him a white bag. He listened as small objects bounced against a plastic container of some sort. His mouth instantly went dry. "Take three a day. They'll help with the pain. By the time you finish them, the pain should be gone. In case it isn't, I wrote down my number. Call it, and I'll write you another script. If there is nothing else, I'll notify you when you're Pokemon are healed."
"Actually, yeah. Do you know any good ins? Preferably the cheapest one?"
"Sure thing. There is one on 4th and Temerean. When you leave here, take a left, walk down three blocks, take another left, and it's three or four buildings down that way."
"Good memory. I have a hard enough time remembering what I have for lunch every day."
Nurse Joy giggled. "We're all blessed in some way."
"I guess I missed the memo."
"Don't say that. You're very blessed." Nurse Joy honestly couldn't the look of sarcastic skepticism on the teen's face. "You're smart, capable from what I've gathered about being able to capture a Carvanha with only a single Pokemon. A ghost-type, nonetheless."
"None of that was given to me. Your great memory, you were born with that. It's an ability, not a skill," Ash pointed out.
"That's true. But you're also handsome and have friends that care about you if that young lady over there isn't proof enough."
"Right, like being good-looking is some great achievement. The only people that really value their appearance are vain assholes and bitches who put more value in their looks than they do their personality, or people that have someone they want to impress."
"And you're neither," Nurse Joy assumed, not in the least bit phased by his calmly uttered but angrily phrased words.
"Being pretty isn't going to make me a good trainer."
"But it certainly won't hurt you, now will it?"
"I'm not exactly Steven Stone, nor do I want to be. All he does is smile at a camera, and half the world fawns over him like he's done something admirable."
"He's a champion, you know. Certainly, that's admirable."
"It is, but no one cares about that. Teenage girls look at him like he's some god, and the boys are more jealous about his money and how many women he sleeps with than his skill as a trainer. Instead of focusing on themselves, bettering their own crafts, and trying to be better, they'd rather sit on their asses and fantasize about living a life they can't possibly live. So yeah, I don't care if I'm good-looking or not. I could be the ugliest man on the planet. It wouldn't change a thing.
"Appearances are only skin-deep. I care about what's inside. That's what makes a person. Not their bank account, not their perfectly symmetrical cheekbones, their abs, their defined jaws, or their cup size. Your worth as a person is solely based on who you are and what you've accomplished."
"I think you're wrong," Nurse Joy eventually said, murmuring her words. "You said you weren't born with any gifts, and you may be right. Some people aren't that fortunate, but there are others who are born destined to do great things. Who knows, that may be you."
"Anything that I will accomplish in life is because of me. My actions, my decisions. Right, wrong, indifferent—all of them. No one is accountable for my failures, and they're not accountable for my success either. A man is a master of his own fate."
"You may be right there," Nurse Joy admitted. "I believe in science; I believe everything can be explained through science. Maybe not now, or even a hundred years from now. But eventually, we will understand concepts we couldn't hope to a hundred years ago. Perhaps, there is no God or gods. Maybe there is just us, Pokemon, and existence. The world is full of unknowns. Millions of people spend all their lives not knowing what their purpose in life is. I hope you don't fall into that sad pile."
Ash nodded, biding her adieu. Then, abruptly, he paused midway through. "And yours? What is your purpose?"
Nurse Joy smiled softly. "I believe I was put on this planet to help people."
An altruist, he remarked. Despite that slight curl of his lips, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but quiet respect for the woman. Not everyone could share his ideology, nor did he want them to. Why would he want others to think like him? His way of thinking was an advantage. It gave him an edge. Like people who were born with sharp memories or natural intellects and or effortlessly skillful in an individual talent. Ash had none of that. All he had was the will to do what was necessary to accomplish his dears.
It… was it enough? Ash had doubts, even now—especially now.
The Pokecenter's door closed behind him. He found himself clutching the paper bag in a shaky grasp. Ash hastily tore a hole in it. A small raffle with a routing number greeted him. He pocketed it inside his jacket pocket before pulling out the pill bottle. Licking his lips, Ash clutched the cap until he wired his jaw shut. His nervous jittering ended. Ash dropped the pill bottle in a rubbish can. He ambled away from the center only to find Misty on a bench, sitting as far as possible from a slob who looked like he'd never heard of table manners as he dug into a BBQ plate.
"So, what do you think of going out to eat? My treat?" He asked with his cool smile, and Misty blushed at the implications.
"A-as in… a date?" She asked uncertainly with a rosy, red blush staining her cheeks. Ash blinked at what she said and smiled.
"Sure, I don't see why not." He shrugged easily, and he led her away with her owlishly blinking. If it got her to agree quicker than he supposed he could do a date. It would be the first in years.
It had been around fifteen minutes since they left to drop off their Pokemon for healing. Ash and Misty found a humble diner, although Misty chose a higher-end restaurant. She even offered to pay. Ash couldn't say no to a free meal, so he let her choose the joint.
As they enjoyed their food, they talked intermittently, and Ash didn't say much, but she had to admit, she did enjoy his company. You know, when he was evading her questions with his own and those sarcastic barbs he liked to throw in randomly. However, now that she had the chance to check him out, she had to admit that he was attractive. Much more so than a good number of boys she had encountered before. He was also in good shape; she noted just how broad his shoulders were when she was sitting across from him in a relaxed setting.
She wouldn't say she liked him, but she found him physically attractive. Very much, in fact, but his personality confused the hell out of her. At first, she thought he had more of a split personality, much like her own. But now, she noticed that he was just irritable constantly. Though she was too, and she couldn't really fault him for that. Misty wouldn't exactly describe him as kind, though, but he didn't seem like a bastard to her. She was usually a great judge of character, and that's what perplexed her. He was constantly setting off mixed signals.
Nonetheless, his mysteriousness confused her much more than his personality. She knew so little about him.
Yeah, she knew he was intelligent, clever, and far more knowledgeable about Pokemon than any rookie she'd ever seen. She knew that he was private about his training. He was also strangely competent.
Rookies weren't so supposed to be competent. Or calm and collected. They were supposed to be snot-nosed kids with borderline neurotic dispositions and unhealthy superiority complexes. She ought to know. That's exactly how she was when she was younger. So, not only was he remarkably mature, but he was also capable—as a rookie. Those things were supposed to be mutually exclusive.
"So, how's the food?" Misty asked, trying to make conversation.
"It's free." Misty blinked at his blunt answer, then she saw the twinkle in his brown eyes.
"You made a joke! A joke that wasn't an asshole-ish thing to say! I'm shocked. I didn't know you were capable."
"Who's joking?" Ash said, completely stone-faced. "There is no such thing as bad free food. Unless it's rotten or, you know, bad."
"There can always be bad food. How long have you been out on the road?"
"You think just because I believe there is no such thing as bad free food that my expectations have changed due to me traveling?" Misty considered it and later nodded.
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Fair," he allowed her that point. "A couple weeks in the woods with no fast food, perfectly seasoned steaks, or mashed potatoes did alter my perception. Is yours not?"
"It is, but I've never really spent much time traveling at one time. This is actually the furthest I've been from Cerulean City."
"So, spoiled rich girl braves the world alone, a mission on her mind." Ash deliberately made his voice seem cinematic, and Misty giggled, embarrassed.
"I didn't grow up rich. I mean, yeah, we didn't have to worry about money, but we were far from rich." Misty forked some meat onto her utensil.
"And you left Cerulean City… why? Was life too comfortable for you?"
She jutted her chin annoyedly. "No! I… I learned all I could there. It was time to leave."
Ash squinted his eyes. That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. He debated whether or not to call her out on it. Ash shrugged a second later. It wasn't worth prying. He was curious, but not that much.
"How does someone become a trainer and not travel the region?"
Misty blinked at such an odd question before it dawned on her. "You're doing the gym circuit. You wanna compete in the Indigo League! That explains your question, I guess," she muttered. "Not every trainer is trying to complete the gym circuit."
"I know. I just thought, when you become a trainer, it's only natural to explore."
"It is, but not every rookie wants to leave home for how many months to compete in a league they may never qualify for."
"One-in-a-hundred."
"What?"
"One-in-a-hundred," Ash said again. "Trainers in their first year have a one-in-a-hundred chance of getting eight gym badges. There are usually two-hundred and fifty-six competitors in the Indigo League- The chances of getting into the top thirty-two is… a one-in-eight-hundred chance. An eighth of a percent and an eighth of that to get to the semifinals. I guess the odds aren't for everyone."
"And they're for you?" Misty questioned humorously.
"Of course. Now, before you say anything, let me ask you—why not me? Hmm? Why am I less likely than anyone else?"
"You're serious? Okay. Besides, there has never been a rookie that's made it to the semifinals?"
"Records are broken all the time," he shrugged.
"The Indigo League has been hosting annual tournaments for four decades. That record hasn't been touched in thirty years."
"Okay," Ash said, unphased. "It—it is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Thirty tournaments and no rookie trainer has ever reached the semifinals!" she said again.
"The odds are not in my favor. I understand that." A shiver passed down her spine as Ash fixated the most intense stare she'd ever seen on her. "But what is stopping me from breaking the record? As a matter of fact, screw that record. I don't care about it. I want to win the whole thing, and I will." Misty gaped at him like he was off his rocker. "Do you know why I will win? Because I will beat everyone else. I'm better than them. They're nothing."
"Are you seriously that arrogant?!"
"I have to be." His response shocked her. "If no one believes I can win, that's fine, but if I don't believe in my own success, no matter how poor my chances are, how can I win? How can I? You have to be so supremely confident in your own abilities that you can't allow yourself to lose. I am my harshest critic.
"I know, right now, if I were to face you in battle, you would beat me. You're more experienced than me; you're Pokemon are far stronger than mine. I can't hope to defeat you. But give me time. Allow me to train, to gain experience of my own. What's going to stop me after that? No one, and if you don't have that burning confidence in yourself, how can you ever hope to succeed?"
"That's all well and good, you can be as confident as you want, but there's still the fact that there are trainers more talented than you, smarter than you, and more experienced. You can't overcome that with arrogance."
Ash tapped the table excitedly, yet his expression remained firm. A startling discrepancy between the two behaviors.
"Why not?" he asked startlingly before he explained. "I… I believe in the Law of Attraction. If you chase a goal, an aspiration—anything, so single-mindedly, forgo anything that isn't important—friends, fun, parties, leave it behind and dedicate every waking moment to achieving what you want to achieve, I believe it will happen. It will come to you. There's more than that, though." Ash struggled visibly to project his emotions onto her and extract raw emotions into a tangible sentence. "You have to hate losing more than you love winning. Everyone else that says I can't do something because they have it made up in their mind that they can't, so therefore I can't either, are quitters. They're losers."
"But…" Misty jumbled over her words. "You would choose to have no fun, to have no friends? All to chase a dream?"
"Yes," Ash answered unhesitatingly, at once, without delay. His response stunned her.
"Why?" was all Misty could get out.
"Why? Why? I want nothing more than to be great. No. I want to be the best, better than everyone in the world."
"You would rather live your life in perpetual loneliness and chase a pipedream than enjoy life?"
"I do enjoy life! That's what you don't get! I love what I do. I love every second I pour into this. Because this pipedream I chase is my purpose, it's my calling. I can't imagine doing anything other than pursuing my ambitions." Ash jabbed his thumb into his chest. "Why is your idea of life better than mine? Why is your vision worth more than mine?"
"It's not. It's just not healthy!"
"Who cares about healthy?" Ash almost laughed in frustration that she still wasn't getting it. "Okay. Let me put it in terms you can understand. I would rather die a failure, alone and unhappy, than wake up one morning in a comfortable bed, old as shit, with a wife that loves me and regret that I never tried my absolute hardest to live my dreams."
"You're crazy! You're obsessed."
There it was—that quiet realization. Misty should have realized it sooner in the conversation. The manic look in his eyes, the fervent way he spoke, and the casual disregard for happiness. He was obsessed. Nothing else mattered to him.
"You're obsessed with becoming the best."
"I am," he confirmed without shame, relieved now that she finally understood. "To be the greatest, you have to be different; you can't think like other people, or what is truly going to separate me from the elites, from the champions? To be greater than even them, those who have achieved the pinnacle of Pokemon training, I have to be obsessed. It's the only way to succeed."
"You can be a fantastic trainer and still have a personal life, still have friends and live," Misty said, oddly desperate to convince him.
"Maybe being above average is enough for you. If it is, great. Fantastic. But my happiness is my passion. It is my ambition."
Misty immediately went to fire back, only to shut her mouth. He wasn't condemning her way of thinking. Ash was just telling her what he believed. As much as she objected to his fixation on greatness, she would give him the same respect he just paid her.
"I don't agree with you. Not at all. It's unhealthy, but it's your right to choose what you want in life. Just like it's my right to say that you will be miserable and alone."
"If that's what it takes, then so be it. I accept the burden."
"The burden of what exactly?" she asked him, quiet as a brush of wind.
"The burden of trying."
Ash afterward checked into his motel. Nurse Joy was right. The lodging was cheap. Predictably, what he rented was tiny. The wallpaper was chipped in various places, and the bed creaked after each touch. His nose crinkled when he laid his face on the singular pillow. It stunk foully. Ash chose to breathe from his mouth instead of suffering that rank odor.
He laid his head done for only a few hours until his Pokedex awoke him.
Eyes blurry, he snared it off the wobbly nightstand. Sliding it up, he saw that the Pokecenter was paging him.
The Pokecenter…
Right.
His Pokemon were getting a check-up.
Ash shook the cobwebs from his head. He seized his jacket from the only chair in the hotel room. On his way out, he set the "No Room Service" note on the outside door handle. He didn't want anyone going through his room. The last thing he needed was for all his belongings to get stolen.
After retrieving his Pokemon, Nurse Joy at the front counter informed him they were in good condition. Ash was relieved, fearing that Carvanha had been injured from Gyarados' nasty headbutt. Moderate bruising around the cranium. Otherwise, the Savage Pokemon was all right. However, Nurse Joy did not seem too happy in divulging Gastly's condition. Ash figured the ghost-type must've gotten up to his usual shenanigans.
Not the least bit surprised, he said "thank you" and left. His stomach growled when he was about to leave through the front. Hungry, Ash found himself in the Pokecenter's cafeteria. As he set trey on the table, Ash spooned up a bit of teriyaki rice. It made the dry, tacky chicken he ate feel a little moister going down.
"Excuse me, may I have a seat here?"
Ash never picked his eyes from his food. "Free country."
"That it is."
Finally, he glimpsed up, and his breath froze in his throat. He was a middle-aged man with deep wrinkles and prominent frown lines. He wore a formal monochrome suit with a crimson tie. His hair was short, shaved almost down to his scalp. He was a very tall and physically imposing man, packing on quite a bit of bulk that made Ash's physique appear more like a rail than his.
"What's your name, young man?"
"Ash."
"Well then, Ash, it's nice to meet you. My name is Giovanni."
"I know," said Ash, schooling his features. "You're the gym leader here."
"And how could you possibly know that?"
Strange. He's feigning shock, not in a way that he is trying to truly sell it. He was teasing him. Ash set down his fork, giving this man the respect he deserved. Giovanni was, perhaps, the strongest gym leader in all of Kanto.
Maybe.
He must have been, at least, a prominent one to strong-arm the League to allow him to turn away any challenger unless they possessed seven badges. Giovanni also had the second-fewest losses in all the gyms in Kanto. Sabrina surpassed him steeply in that regard, and he barely overtook Blaine. It was reported that no trainer had beaten Sabrina in two years. She'd only been a gym leader for five, and the people that had conquered her gym could be counted on one hand. Ash wished he could find the identities of those trainers so he could challenge them.
Ash pointed out the window.
Giovanni followed his finger and broke out into a chuckle. There was a billboard with his stern, uncompromising face on it.
"Yes, yes, I suppose that'll do it, won't it?" he commented good-naturedly. "I wish I could say I missed the days when my face went unnoticed by everyone. To them, I was just a normal trainer. Now, I am more."
"Then why become a gym leader if you don't like the attention?"
"Oh, child, the fame is a byproduct of my success. Of course, there are those that seek it." Champion Diantha of Kalos came to mind. A movie star that used her fame as a champion to sell more tickets to her movies. Ash did not have a great deal of respect for her. He only admired her power as a trainer. Not her personal qualifications. "I do not see much of a point to fame."
"It's the attention the fame brings that people love."
Giovanni smiled as if he was impressed. "Yes, it is. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't recognize that until the spotlight is on them for the first time."
Ash put a toothpick between his lips as they quirked upwards. "I'm not most people."
Giovanni laughed. "Many people would like for that to be true. Most want to be extraordinary. They crave it. The feeling of being different and be renowned for it."
Ash silently submitted to his logic there. "Until someone comes along and proves himself." There was a gleam in the gym leader's eyes. A searching look, almost. Ash, for the life of him, couldn't decipher it. For once, he couldn't read a man who was sitting across from him.
"And you believe that you are that man." Ash nodded. "You have my curiosity. I am taking challengers until midnight."
What is he getting at here?
"You only allow those with seven badges to challenge you. I have zero."
A chuckle left him. "I know," he said, "I watched you deposit your Pokemon to the Nurse Joy."
"A test," Ash assumed coldly, and Giovanni smirked just as frigidly.
"Do not take it too personally, young man. It's good to meet a novice who does his homework. You have no clue how many storm my facility, demanding a challenge when they have less than my required badges. They can't even be bothered to research the gym leader they are about to challenge. Here they are, about to undertake one of the most important battles of their lives, and they don't even spend an hour researching who they are about to face. Pathetic, if you ask me."
Ash sympathized with the man's plight. It reminded him of a few of his classmates that refused to study for a test and wonder why they failed afterward. He never could understand their laziness. You know the questions that are going to be asked, you should know the subjects that are going to be on the test. It's easy. They had all the time in the world to study, but they would rather mess around, have fun and make fools of themselves.
"Which gym are you intent on facing, young man?"
"Brock," Ash answered.
"Good choice. He is the weakest and least experienced of our like. The eight major gyms that is. Do not underestimate him, though. He is a gym leader like the rest of us. Why not battle the Sensational Sisters or one of the lesser gyms?" Ash detected a measure of disgust when he referenced the Cerulean City gym leaders. It was faint. He heard it all the same.
"Type advantage," he divulged. "My plan predicates on it."
"There is more to battles than mere type advantages or disadvantages."
"There is, but not at my level. Against a trainer that is more experienced than me and likely has Pokemon that surpass my own in every category, I need to exploit any weakness I can."
"That goes for any battle," Giovanni commented. "Find weakness. Target it with extreme prejudice. That is how a battle is won."
Ash agreed. Basing a strategy around an opponent's weakness would, logically, offer the best chances of success in battle. You only attack the enemy where he is strongest if you wish to surprise him and have another plan to spring after. It's basic strategy in anything. Ash supposed it was nice to hear it from another trainer. A lot of them were prideful. They wouldn't dare consider stooping to such levels as actively seek out weaknesses and tear into them ferociously.
"What are your plans?"
"I'm going to train in Viridian Forest before heading into Pewter. I figured it would provide a decent challenge for my Pokemon. I hear his Onix is tough," he commented lastly.
Giovanni nodded. While being a ground-type master, he knew that Brock's Onix did prove troublesome for most beginner trainers. However, something told him that this young man was anything but a typical trainer.
"Are you looking to capture a single type of Pokemon? To help combat Brock's Onix?"
"I have the right Pokemon already. I'm sure Brock will only be the first of many stepping stones in the path." Giovanni was more than a little fascinated. It wasn't every day he believed a trainer's boast. This one lacked all the flawed confidence all new trainers had. For some reason, this one was different. He was arrogant, yes. Somehow, that arrogance almost seemed deserved. For a fledgling trainer, that was bordering on asinine.
The two ate in silence until Giovanni finished his meal and stood. "I wish you good luck, young man." He held out his hand.
Ash quickly stood up and accepted the gesture. Giovanni departed soon after. Ash never saw the smirk crawling to his lips as the man disappeared.
"Was that Leader Giovanni?"
Ash recognized Misty's voice anywhere. It had a distinct ruggedness that he found attractive in the girl.
"It was."
"And you talked to him?" Misty sounded disbelieving.
"We exchanged a few words," Ash put it mildly.
"That man—I hear he's a cold bastard." Her shiver of discomfort was tangible.
"He was," he confirmed.
"Then why talk with him?"
"I don't care about his personality. There is more to a man's worth than his temperament. Someone wise told me, "It's always nice to have friends in high places. It doesn't matter where they come from. They may end up helping you when you need them the most," he enunciated.
"Only you, Ash, would want Giovanni as a friend," she muttered.
Ash separated from Misty should after. Upon instruction of Nurse Joy, he went to retrieve his Pokemon and almost made it out the door. However, glass shattered, and shards rained atop his head. Ash immediately hit the ground, knees pressed against the tile floor.
A Pokemon's call reached him, even in the chaotic explosion of the windowpanes. Following the shout, nauseating smoke flooded the room. Ash balled his eyes shut. It was as if someone had drenched them with soap.
Upon closing his eyes, his mind registered the danger he was in. It ran through the list of details he could gather in his sightless haze. Ash inhaled a corpulent whiff. The mere substance made his nose ache and sting. The smoke was anything but natural. It was artificial, or it was expunged from a Pokemon. Either way, that didn't change the likely possibility that they were getting attacked. Or the more likely target; the Pokemon Center. Ash quickly raised his hand over his mouth. He filtered his breath through his palm in slow, coordinated intervals.
There was a possibility that this smoke was toxic. Limiting his exposure to it was obvious. Yet, he couldn't forgo breathing forever. So he kept himself disciplined, only taking in a tiny breath when his lungs truly ached.
"Prepare for trouble!
And make it double!
To protect the world from devastation!
To unite all peoples within our nation!
Ash furrowed his brows. What the hell am I listening to?!
To denounce the evils of truth and love!
To extend our reach to the stars above!
Jessie!
James!
Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!
Surrender now, or prepare to fight!
Meowth!
That's right!"
It… was a greeting.
An announcement!
Ash squinted—some of the turgent smoke filtered out through the massive broken windows. Idiots. If they wanted to gas the place, they should have used either toxic gas that would kill them within seconds or drugs like remifentanil and carfentanil that would induce near-immediate loss of consciousness. Sure, studies showed that unless a trained anesthesiologist and doctors resurrected those affected by the gas, there was a high chance that a portion of them would die due to exposure. Still, the body count would be substantially less.
Either these attackers were attempting to limit the potential loss of life to precisely zero by using regular, non-harming gas, or… or they were idiots. Attacking a Pokemon Center a mile and a half from a police station without knockout gas or any form of naturalizing agents while taking their already limited time to boast and sing an anthem.
Yeah… yeah, they were idiots, all right.
They were a duo. Male and female. He could barely make out other details, but their magenta and cobalt hair stood out, even amid this blinding haze. He also noted that Nurse Joy was hugging her knees into her chest behind her circle desk, her teeth chattering so severely he could practically hear them from here.
"You must not be very smart," he said, gaining their attention. "You two just broke into a Pokemon Center that has a police station just a few blocks away. I've seen idiotic things, but you two morons really take the cake."
"Shut it, you little brat!" the female blustered in fury.
Ash used the smoke to his advantage, releasing Gastly from his ball. A harsh hand gesture caused the little Pokemon to grin sickeningly. He floated backward until the smoke swallowed him whole. Gastly was home in the gass. Ash wished he had more time to admire his natural body as he mingled in it. Those morons played right into his hands.
James, being the more prideful one of the bunch but also the most cowardly, felt he dish out some 'pain.' So, he thrust out his hand, aiming a threatening finger at him.
"We'll see how foolish it is after, little boy!" He laughed eloquently. "Koffing, use Sludge Attack!"
Immediately, the Poison Gas Pokemon floated into action and heaved a ball of greenish-brown sludge. Ash rolled behind a desk. He stared blankly as toxic gas sunk through the tile, searing a hole straight through. That would have killed him. Okay, so they weren't trying to minimize civilian casualties. They unquestionably did not care.
By now, he could see them. Their forms were still muggy, but he could make them out beyond their agonizingly bright hair.
The woman was tall—taller than the pretty boy to her left. He would have searched them for other details. Like their approximate age and how many Pokeballs they had strapped to their persons. But he never got beyond the red "R" on their chests.
It made his own clench painfully. A furious coldness made his heart jump out of his chest, and Ash felt his breath leave his body. Those R's… he whimpered, shutting his eyes with his hands. A tremor ran through him like an earthquake—
Until he went deathly still. Slowly, he removed his hands, revealing his bloodshot eyes—a slow, steady breath. Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"Gastly…"
"Ay, look, James! The kiddie's speakin' to ghosts!" Ash didn't blink at the talking Pokemon. Once, his scientific mind would have soared at the implications of an English-speaking Pokemon. Now, he wanted to see that thing burn with its friends.
"He must be overcome with fear!"
"No! You idiots! He's talking to an actual ghost—"
"Reap," Ash finished, and he clenched a singular fist for them to see.
Two things immediately. A set of chairs nailed the trainers in their backs. The heads smacked the ground so violently they bounced back up like a dribbling basketball. The Ekans and Koffing whirled around to face the cretin that dared attack their trainers. Only a shout made them wish they hadn't.
"Starmie, Water Pulse! Staryu, Water Gun!" Two streams of water of varying intensity slammed both Pokemon into a wall. They slid down, unmoving and positively drenched. "Starmie, deal with the last one."
"H-hey! Wait a minute, you wench! You can't do this to us!" The talking Meowth was also knocked out by a swift psychic burst. Amusedly enough, he received a mouth full of water as he went down. Ash could hear him gargling it.
"You okay, kid?" one of the adults asked him. Ash jumped in place. They must have seen him staring down at those two bastards.
Team Rocket…
"Fine," he replied tersely.
"Thank you so much for saving us!" Ash didn't bother listening to the round of applause Misty was receiving for saving them all. Ash snorted in revulsion. You wouldn't need to be saved if you all saved yourself.
"You reckless child!" Ash ignored that enraged shout until he discerned that it was meant for him. Blinking, he turned to see Nurse Joy staring right at him, face almost as red as her hair. "You should have waited for the authorities to arrive! Who do you think you are? Some hero? You should have waited—"
"Waited for what, exactly?" Ash snapped irritably. "For you and everyone else in here to grow a backbone? The girl over there has more balls than half the so-called trainers in here. Please, the only ones crying more than you are them." Nurse Joy didn't have to look to know he was pointing to a group of hysterical infants bawling into their mother's embrace. "Next time you want to talk down to someone, make sure they're actually below you."
Ash stormed out, uncaring of the glass that munched beneath his boots.
Misty winced sympathetically. She laid a gentle hand on the nurse's trembling shoulder.
"I'm sorry about him. He didn't mean it." Yes, he did, and you know it, said her consciousness.
"No, no. He's right. I'm the Chief of Medicine at this hospital. I should've been the first act, not trembling underneath my desk while those criminals kill my employees and—"
"It isn't your fault," she whispered to her. "If you want to blame someone, blame them."
Nurse Joy wiped her tears and bobbed her head.
Misty caught up with Ash. It seemed like he noted her sudden appearance as he began to walk faster. Misty refused to show her annoyance at his juvenile behavior. For someone that claimed to be so wise and mature, he sure could be a prat. Quickly enough, she reached him. He wrinkled his nose at her. For a quiet minute, she was tempted to let them walk intense but comfortable stillness. At least, in the beginning, she was.
"You did a good thing back there."
"I didn't do it for them. It was self-preservation."
"Towards the end," she confirmed, "but you got their attention when they were making their threats. They weren't idle ones, either. That Koffing's attack—it would have killed you."
"I was quicker."
Right. You were quicker, like it was no big deal. You brushed that close with death. Again.
"Do you want to die?" She wanted to ask this incredulously, yet her tone was somber, reserved, as if she knew the answer. Perhaps, inside, she felt she already did.
Ash chuckled in astonishment. "First, I'm a hero when I save your life, but when I do it for a whole bunch of other people, I must have a death wish. God, your logic is damn flawed. I'm actually stumped by your stupidity. Either that or you're jealous."
"Stop being an insufferable jerk and be honest for one minute! Do you want to die?" Ash continued walking. Frustrated, she pulled his arm back, but he instantly recoiled, ripping it free from her grasp. The blaze in his eyes almost caused her to flinch.
"You want to know if I wanna die? Are you serious? Okay, fine!" he almost shouted. His voice was barely a decibel lower than a shout. Knowing him, it was on purpose. "I don't want to die. There. Happy?"
"I don't believe you."
Ash scoffed. "Of course, you don't believe me. You already have it set in your mind. Nothing I say will change your mind. Frankly? I don't care. You can make all the ass-backward assumptions you want."
"I care about you."
There. She said it. It came out against her will, and even so, she didn't regret it. Ash's pace stilled. His back was still aimed at her until he looked over at her, confusion written all over his face.
"You care about me?" he asked as if such a thing was preposterous like the idea was absurd to him. "Why would you give a damn about me?"
"You saved my life."
"And you saved the people in there. So why don't you go back to them and be their savior? They certainly need it, and I'm certainly not going to grovel for you."
Misty bit her tongue. "Exactly! You don't treat people normally," she said. "Your actions are based almost entirely on logic. Almost. You're thinking, reasonings, they're all flawless. Except for one, now two incidents. You care as well. Sure, you hide it behind a mask of vitriolic anger and sarcastic quips, but you care."
"I don't care," he told her, voice lower, gravelly almost. "I just crave excitement." Ash hoped she bought that.
For a second, time slowed down for her. "What?" was all she could manage.
"I don't feel things normally," he said slowly and unemotionally. "Feelings, emotions. The only three things that stimulate me are the unexpected, puzzles, and battling. Saving you… well, you were all three bundled in a cluster of minutes."
"That… that's what it was?"
"Back home, the most interesting thing there was my boss. Oak, Professor Oak. He's eccentric. He never does anything in half-measures. Sometimes he sends me on jobs, little quests, actually. He knows what's it like, apparently, so he knows what helps, and those jobs do help." Then, at her downtrodden and caustic expression, he shrugged. "I told you. I'm not a hero."
"Your actions dictate who you are, not the reasoning behind them." Those words took everything out of her to utter. "I don't believe it. Not for a minute," a laugh, "but I'm willing to try for you. There's something different about you."
"I'm your puzzle," he murmured, only just loud enough for her to hear. "Okay. C'mon, we've got places to be."
"W-what?"
"I've got a week to train in Viridian Forest before I head off to Pewter City," he said meaningfully.
"Are you… are you asking me to travel with you?"
"Sure, if you're up for it."
I'm her puzzle. Her mind is still spinning, trying to figure me out. Snorting, he jerked his head, motioning her to follow him. And I want to figure her out as well.
"Actually… I hate bugs."
Ash paused. "Well, I'm heading to Pewter City. If you want to travel with me after I gain my first gym badge, you're more than welcome to. I should reach Pewter in three weeks. Four, tops."
Misty smiled, trying to discard the weight on her shoulders from that ugly conversation. "I'll see you then."
Ash nodded. Figuring that was their temporary goodbye, he walked back to his motel to gather his supplies and check out so that clerk wouldn't charge him a double fee. She seemed like the witch to do that.
After vacating the city, he trekked into the forest. Ash decided to stay for a week and train his Pokemon before he fought Brock and moved on. He knew that Mt. Moon was notoriously challenging for anyone that dared brave its winding tunnels, confusing pathways, and the seemingly endless Zubat colonies. Ash wasn't taking any chances. He chose to spend the whole week in the forest, training and regularly battling any trainers unfortunate enough to meet his gaze.
The training was simple enough.
Gastly's naturally learned move-pool was vastly lacking. It was one of the downsides of catching a Gastly. They had no limbs, either. The only manner of attacking Gastly could manage was biting and other moves that required no contact whatsoever. Although, when you took in all the moves Gastly could learn through tutoring, the move pool became a sizable lake. Far from ideal, considering his lack of limbs and sheer deficiency of raw power or physical strength, it was still better than nothing.
Ash already knew Gastly wouldn't be his main player in the gym battle. No, he stubbornly waited at Route 1 to catch a noteworthy water type for a reason. Brock would not be beaten easily. Gastly might tack on some damage. No, Ash was sure he would. Bringing one of Brock's Pokemon down with him, though, was less likely. Carvanha, on the other hand, if significant enough damage was done to the first Pokemon, their chances of winning were acceptable.
Not favorable, not even likely, but acceptable.
Ash did his research on Brock before he ever left Pallet Town. While it could only be considered preliminary research at best, he was confident that very few trainers did that much. However, now that he knew what Pokemon were at his disposal, how much time he had to train, what level they were at, and their tendencies, Ash could formulate a strategy he could self-assuredly commit to.
Which took little time. With only two Pokemon, neither of them knowing an abundance of moves or possessing solid experience, there was sadly very little he could account for. All Ash could do was take what little he had and scrounge up an idea— a scheme that could tip the scales in his favor.
Easier said than done.
However, Ash was patient.
Carvanha already knew Aqua Jet, a formidable technique if used correctly. While it wasn't the most damaging move ever, it would have to do. Although, maybe it wouldn't have to do. Ash, instead of banking on overpowering Brock with type advantage, he decided to teach Carvanha a move that almost escaped his consideration. When Carvanha mastered it, Ash allowed his confidence to return.
Creating a training plan for Gastly was straightforward. Now that he knew the purpose Gastly would serve in the upcoming battle, Ash knew exactly what to teach him. His diminutive odds of winning this gym battle hinged on Gastly's success in learning this move. When he finished two days in advance, Ash drilled their plan constantly. For the final day, he allowed them to rest. They deserved it. Not that he would admit that to them until they kicked Brock's sorry ass. Why would he praise them when the battle hadn't even begun yet?
Now, three weeks later, Ash gazed at a labeled building. "Pewter City Gym." Ash smirked up at it. He clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails nearly broke the skin. A light hand found his shoulder. He exhaled at Misty's touch.
She'd regrouped with him as soon as he arrived. They talked over breakfast. Apparently, she'd taken a train up Pewter City a few days ago. She was renting a hotel up the street, which happened to serve the best pancakes in this part of town. Ash confirmed that they were, indeed, delicious pancakes.
"Nervous?" Misty asked teasingly.
"About as much as you are predictable," he snarked with his smirk intact. Misty growled 'menacingly.' "Let's go. I have a gym battle to win."
"Oh? A gym battle to win? You can't be talking about mine, can you?" A voice came from behind them.
Immediately, Misty jolted, startled by the sudden voice that came from behind them, and she snapped her head toward the source. Ash, however, turned calmly.
There stood a teenager with brown hair and eyes. He wore a long-sleeved burnt orange shirt with lining, olive green pants, and brown sneakers. He was relatively tall and lean, but Ash could tell his muscle build was similar to his own.
"The name's Brock, the Pewter City Gym Leader." He introduced himself with a severe yet somewhat friendly demeanor. He outstretched his hand towards Ash, who slowly reciprocated the notion and firmly shook Brock's hand, who seemed surprised by his iron grip.
Brock grinned a tiny bit before he applied some extra strength as well before they broke grips. He turned his attention to Misty as he smiled at her as well.
"My name is Brock. What's yours, beautiful?" He asked with a smile.
She blushed a bit and shakily shook hands with him. "Misty… it's a pleasure."
"It sure is," he agreed before turning his attention toward Ash again. "And your name?"
Ash just stared at Brock with an impassive look, his smile gone completely. "Ash," he said shortly.
Brock saw his eyes and knew that he meant business, so he decided to treat him with that same respect and nodded thoughtfully.
"And from what I heard, you're here to challenge my gym?" It wasn't a question, a confirmation if anything, Misty noted.
Ash merely nodded. Brock hummed. "Once you get inside the battle area, it will scan your Pokedex, and that will inform me what level you are as a trainer, so I know what level of Pokemon to use. Fantastic sensory technology that coincides with your Pokedex perfectly. I wish older trainers were given one. As I said before, it will scan your Pokedex and inform me which team I should use according to experience, time as a trainer, caught Pokemon, and the records of your trainer battles. Sound good, Ash?"
Ash nodded, "Yeah. Sounds good." He breathed as they entered the room, and immediately, Ash felt his Pokedex deep once.
Overall, the room looked pleasant and technologically and architecturally advanced. It had differently positioned rocks scattered around, varying in different sizes. A stone path also deviated back and forth from the center and right side of the room. The walls were primarily cream-colored with some stale wallpaper. In the corners were four cameras that were tiny and hiddenly placed.
"Nice place you got here," Misty said, and Brock smiled at her.
"I appreciate it. The League was breathing down my neck to get the old place renovated. Apparently, it was a station not benefiting from a man of my stature." He was distinctly displeased by the politics but not the arena's construction. There was actually a bit of pride in how he spoke about the place.
Brock placed his hand on a seemingly random wall. A stone tablet popped out. Brock fingered the touch-screen, staring speculatively.
"Hmm, unusual team. A Carvanha caught by a beginner. I see. Definitely a higher-level rookie, then. But…" he led off as he skimmed over some of Ash's records. "Student to Professor Oak and passed the Pokemon League Registration Exam at the age of thirteen. Outstanding." Broke read off, getting a look from Misty.
"It's customary for me to use my beginner-level team for anyone that has less than two badges. Is that acceptable, or does your blood run for something a little richer?"
"If you're trying to goad me for consent in steamrolling me with a higher-level team, it won't work."
Brock smiled politely. "Of course not, but what sort of gym leader would I be if I did not inform my challengers of their options?"
With that, a shelf ejected from the wall with a mechanical noise, and Brock smoothly plucked out two Pokeballs. Ash knew the Pokemon that dwelled within those balls without ever needing to see them firsthand.
"This will be a two-on-two battle!" Brock explained as he now stood at the opposite side of the room. "Substitutions will be allowed on the challenger's part, but the gym leader shall not!"
Ash's pride hated handicaps. His logic told him to shut up and take whatever he could get. Any factor he could move in his favor would increase his chance of winning. The fact is Brock, not being allowed to substitute his Pokemon worked out wonderfully for him.
"Show them your might, Geodude!" Brock yelled as he tossed out his Pokemon, releasing a young, stout Geodude. The Pokemon appeared like a simple rock floating with a face and arms.
"Battlefront, Carvanha," Ash commanded solidly. The Savage Pokemon appeared without fault.
"The challenger may have the first move." Brock offered.
Ash smiled coolly. "How kind of you," he said. One more breath, this one for preparation. "Focus Energy."
Hmm. Predictable choice. "Stop it from focusing with Rock Throw!" As Geodude dug its hands into the mud, Ash crossed his arms over his chest.
"Shift into Aqua Jet."
Its Focus Energy isn't finished— a feint. Not bad, Brock thought once Carvanha abruptly wrapped itself in water. It took off, the light of the stadium reflected off it. Geodude tried striking it with Rock Throw. It succeeded once. It wasn't enough to disrupt Carvanha's concentration as the tip of its Aqua Jet neared. Geodude attempted to dodge as a last resort. Barely, it managed to avoid a full-contact hit, but it still took residual damage.
"Get in close with Brick Break!" Brock shouted.
Geodude's left palm went flat. None of the telltale energy to be seen, the smack pierced Carvanha's Aqua Jet. The water-dark type was knocked off balance. It splattered aside, its head narrowly missing a jagged rock. Carvanha shook its pointed head, ignoring the pain below his gills.
I need to limit Carvanha's exposure to damage against Geodude. This round has to end—now.
"Poison Fang."
Carvanha bolted across the platform while Brock lifted an eyebrow. It was evident that he thought Poison Fang was a blunder.
"Tackle, Geodude," Brock commanded, calmer this time. Geodude marched up, body stiffening, prepared for the counterattack. But, unbeknownst to both Pokemon and trainer, it stood beside a sharp-edged pillar of rock.
Ash hid a smirk. Perfect timing and placement.
"Now." Such a simple order. It was Carvanha's cue. Brock was left confused.
That's okay. He wouldn't be left in suspense for long.
Carvanha suddenly rotated, using all of its charged momentum, transferring it into its rear. The edge of its tail rammed into the pillar, showering Geodude with sand. Normally, Geodude thrived in such conditions. It would have been unaffected had its eyes not been wide open. Geodude flinched, ceasing its motions for a Tackle attack.
"Aqua Jet—quick."
It was far from Carvanha's strongest one. Where he sacrificed in power, he sure made up for the significantly shorter charge-up time. Ash deliberately showed him Aqua Jet once to let Brock see how long it would take to channel the attack. He banked on Aqua Jet needing to be used with plenty of space between them. Brock thought it would take longer than two concise seconds to prepare and seek through the tiny gap between the Savage Pokemon and Geodude.
The Aqua Jet was a direct hit. A super-effective strike right to its face. While the previous Aqua Jet had been only a graze, with Carvanha's superior attack and Aqua Jet being super-effective, it still did a fair amount of damage. Just enough to render Geodude unable to battle.
Brock blinked slowly, monotonously returning Geodude to its ball. Humming, he stared across at the deadly calm challenger.
He's not like the hundred other trainers I get a week. Consideringly, he replayed the battle in his mind, attempting to find his missteps. I underestimated him, yes, but this kid—Ash, he used my own terrain against me. The first Aqua Jet, it lulled me into a false sense of security. It was all a ploy, the Aqua Jet, the Poison Fang—it was all planned.
"You scouted my arena beforehand. How? I would have seen you skulking around."
"My boss is Professor Oak. He let me watch a few of your most recent battles. It allowed me to get an idea of what the terrain was like."
Crafty little bugger, I'll give him that. Okay. Let's see how he does when faced with good old-fashioned brute strength.
"Onix, show them your power!"
Immediately, the giant Rock Snake Pokemon appeared in white light. Onix resembled a vast chain of gray boulders that became smaller towards the tail. It had a rocky spine on its head and a pair of black eyes right beneath it.
"Onix!" It roared, compelling the room to shake from its roar. Ash personally sensed the latent vibrations that coursed beneath his feet.
Here it is. The Onix that single-handedly ruins dreams. Let's see if it's as formidable as everyone says it is.
Brock blinked when his challenger recalled his Carvanha. Why would he do that? He wondered silently. His best chance at winning was to exploit his type disadvantage. Carvanha barely sustained any damage. Well, if you would count a glancing blow from Brick Break damage.
What is he getting out of sending out his Gastly?
When the Gas Pokemon flickered in a pale light, his frown deepened. Ash withheld a snort at Brock's poker face or lack thereof. Brock was puzzled by his move, which could be beneficial, or it would have an adverse effect Ash hadn't expected up until now.
The human element. Ash tried strenuously to understand what ran on inside another man's mind mid-battle. Sure, he knew the basics. Fear, apprehension, excitement, panic, the list went on. Emotions were easy to catalog. Specific thoughts were trickier. There were people, not even trainers, that rarely ever made a solidly logical decision. Brock here did not seem like that lot. He was smart. Ash was wise enough to heed his reputation. If they turned out to be incorrect, then there was no harm done. Underestimating a foe never turned out well.
Ash learned that lesson second-hand from Gary. The brat always considered himself above him. Ash wasn't good enough to clean the shit beneath his boots. He never cared, not personally. In fact, there was a time when he and Gary were friends. Then again, there was also a time when he had a loving mother as well.
Gary never thought he would be smart. So, Ash outperformed him in school.
Gary constantly ridiculed him, stating that no matter how well he did on some "stupid" test, he would never be as good of a trainer as him. Now, Ash was set on making history repeat itself. He wanted Gary Oak to realize that he was worth taking seriously. Ash wanted Gary to understand that he was better, and he only had himself to blame for that. Gary Oak inspired him to go to great lengths to improve himself. Ash could never thank him enough for that.
"It's time, Gastly." The Gas Pokemon gargled encouragingly. Ash showed a brief smile. "I know you won't disappoint me. I don't think you know how."
So the kid isn't a complete wall. That's comforting.
"Onix!" Brock bellowed, a show of power and dominance. His deep voice reverberated powerfully off the walls. "Attack!"
And so, the Rock Snake Pokemon rushed onward. It was faster than Ash remembered from the videos. He attributed that to the known occurrence of things occurring faster in real life than on video cameras. Ash, of course, primed himself for this. It struck with its tail, and Gastly shirked it by rotating around it.
Ash faintly recalled Gastly swerving around trees repeatedly. The very same maneuver. For the shortest of seconds, he welcomed pride into his heart. His very first training exercises worked, after all. Shrugging off the acknowledged vanity, Ash focused. He figured he could have Gastly use Toxic now, but he decided against it. Too early, he thought. It would telegraph his strategy.
Let's let this battle draw out and incur as much damage as possible before Gastly is taken out.
"Lick."
Gastly grinned, its bulging tongue hanging free from his mouth. He hovered mischievously around Onix's tail. Finally, he brought his tongue to it. The Rock Snake Pokemon proved familiar with making minor adjustments to even the tip of its tail.
Interesting information. He filed it down for when the real battle began. This—this was foreplay. A set-up for the main act. Gastly knew that not that the ghost-type seemed to care. He was itching for some action. At his core, Ash thought the little one was an anarchist. That, at his basest level, he only wanted to cause mayhem.
"Use Taunt, Onix!" Brock shouted succinctly.
The beast's eyes glowed faintly. It waggled its tail mockingly, preventing Gastly from using status moves. Ash did everything he to not let a heavy frown sink into his lips. Taunt could hinder his plans at the very least if he was lucky, and derailing them was the probable outcome. Fortunately, Taunt only lasted so long. He was already planning on drawing out the battle. He could get around this setback if he and Gastly didn't screw up. Ash just needed to figure out a counter to it.
"Smack Down, Onix!"
Onix swiped its tail. When that failed, it tried to shove itself on Gastly like a battering ram. Gastly was a remote target and very quick. Between learning Toxic, Ash prioritized reaction time and evasive maneuvers over everything. He had no reason to train Gastly any other way. Only when Gastly evolved or gained a decent increase in latent power would he be fighting a direct battle. While the ghost-type was probably closer to evolving than Gary's starter was, it would still take longer than Ash wanted. He had plenty of time to teach him damaging moves. Until the time came when they would be beneficial, Ash would train him in ways that Gastly could be useful.
Evading attacks ruthlessly, dragging out battles, wearing down its opponents, those were all things Gastly could do.
"Grab it, Onix!"
That won't work, Ash privately remarked. To Ash's expectancy, Gastly sank through a tiny gap in Onix's tail once it almost encircled it.
"Confuse Ray." Onix's eyes crossed, its lengthy body stumbling. "Lick."
This time, Gastly dragged its horrid tongue over Onix's flank. Again, the Pokemon flinched, but to Ash's dismay, it refuted its confusion, snatching Gastly out of the air.
"Yes!" Brock's fist speared the air.
Onix slammed it repeatedly. It knocked through whatever rock formation was around, furiously trying to do as much damage as possible. When Onix flung Gastly from its grip, Brock reacted too quickly. It was a predetermined attack. They'd practiced this technique.
"Rock Tomb!"
A mysterious orb from within its mouth. It shot out. That red orb caused rocks of varying sizes to emerge from the battleground. Ash tsked. This wasn't good. Not at all. He expected Onix to move slower. Some part of him didn't think Onix was capable of it, so it was hard on his radar. He expected Onix's defense to be his primary concern. It was, but he shouldn't have written off the idea that a gym leader's Onix could be twitchy. If only Gastly had mastered intangibility. Evading Rock Tomb would be a surefire thing.
Guess I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way.
Gastly knew what was expected of him. He didn't need him to shout out "Dodge!" or its many other synonyms. Hearing him yell would subtract his attention from what needed it the most. Dodging, of course, Gastly knew he had to dodge. Gastly understood, better than anyone, how much damage he could take. He knew the plan as well. He was a part of a team now. If one member of the team failed, it affected the whole team. In this case, he was only a part of the plan.
So what? He wasn't the one getting the knockouts. Gastly had the patience and foresight to know he would get there one day. He would be awarded all power of that illustrious third-stage evolution soon enough. For now, though, he had to make sacrifices. He would play a role he disliked and win, but play a role he loved but lose in the end. Gastly and Ash despised losing. The ghost sympathized with his trainer's plight and vowed never to fail him, or else he would fail himself, too.
The first two stones, he dodged them. However, the third blindsided him, knocking him off balance. He barely managed to avoid the fourth, but the fifth was faster—and more significant. Gastly sagged, winded, and in pain. One look at the stern look on his trainer's face, and instantly, he floated back up, holding firm.
"You have trained your Pokemon well, Ash, but maybe you should have waited longer before challenging me."
"Gastly." Addressing Brock was pointless. His trainer did not do pointless. Glancing back, a nod was all he received. The glint in his amber eyes provided him all the motivation he needed. He was glad he was hurting. The pain would make their collective victory sweeter.
Invigorated by purpose and silent encouragement by his trainer, Gastly held itself firmly.
"It's time."
Gastly grinned sickeningly. His role in this battle was done. He'd done exactly as his trainer had ordered. His first real battle was not so disappointing. Yes, he didn't get to beat Brock or take out one of his Pokemon. But he was able to wreak havoc, have fun and mess with his rock snake. For now, in his limited state of power, that would be enough. There would come a time when he could do both and flourish. Until that time came, Gastly would be patient.
He was a ghost. He'd lived for twenty-thirty years already, wandering the lands. What would another few years be to evolve into his strongest state? It would be but a blink of an eye to a spirit like him. After a sudden Toxic, followed by a Smack Down by Onix, he languished. Firing that final attack was all he had left. But as he was swept up in that ball, Gastly chuckled one last time. He took more pleasure in seeing that little bit of fear mixed with relief than anything that had transpired.
Carvanha landed back out on the uneven field. The struggle resumed shortly after.
Ash continued on the defensive. It was a significant divergence from his previous methods, which Brock picked up on. He thought Ash was battling defensively because he was nervous—that he was having doubts about beating Onix.
Well, Brock was correct. Almost, anyway.
Ash did deem Carvanha to be inadequate in dealing with Onix. Onix's defenses were too robust to create a reliable strategy against him. That is before he concocted a plan based primarily on status afflictions. Ash maintained Carvanha's current course of action. Every time Onix tried to strike with a move that wasn't Body Slam, he was ordered to evade it. After the second Body Slam, Carvanha was on his last legs. It was apparent anyone with two eyes in their head, and a functioning brain was operating behind them.
Then, the third came, and Carvanha seized momentarily. Carvanha was paralyzed.
Ash and Carvanha grinned.
One word turned this battle on its head.
"Façade."
Carvanha, while shedding the paralysis as best he could, darted over to Onix. For the first time this entire round, Carvanha was on the offensive. Onix was not prepared, and neither was Brock. Façade came in the form of a brilliant headbutt into Onix's stony crown. The beast flinched.
"Grab it with Bind! Don't let it touch you!" Brock shouted.
"Façade again." Instead of a headbutt, Carvanha snapped its meaty jaws onto Onix's tail. Carvanha slipped through the slack that was created in Onix's recoil. "Aqua Jet—finish it." A swirling pointed stream of water was the last thing Onix managed to observe before it was rendered unable to battle.
The rumbling beneath his boots was all he needed to feel to know that this battle was done.
The first badge was theirs.
They were the victors.
His plan worked perfectly in every way. He felt proud of himself but also of his Pokemon. They trained day and night to make it possible. It took great humility from Gastly to accept such a seemingly marginal role, only to relinquish the more considerable duty to a Pokemon he had only just captured. He was upset initially, but Gastly came to see it from his point of view. Their success here was due to all of them operating as a team.
He concocted the plans—not just the battle-orientated ones, but the training programs, corrections to their techniques—however minor or significant they were, teaching them new moves. Ash was the brains, but the two of them, they were the brawn. They manifested his ideas; they made them real. The pride that he felt in his two Pokemon and himself made him feel like he was on cloud nine. As Brock slid his badge into his waiting grasp, he realized it was a group effort.
Everything they would accomplish from here on out—good and bad alike—was a group effort.
Ash was perfectly fine with that.
I've wanted to write a Pokemon story for a long time. This story has been a long time coming. I've written several versions of this chapter over the course of a year or two. The deviations between those previous iterations were relatively minor. At least in the beginning, regarding which Pokemon would be his starter and some details of his past. Most of the overarching attributes of his character—his personality, quirks—remained consistent throughout the multiple versions of the beginning of this story.
I'm glad I didn't post the first, second, or third iteration of this chapter way back then. I have a much better feel for this story now than I ever did. A lot of forethought went into this particular version, not just about Ash's past but also about plots, other characters, events, and ideas—past and future, included. Although, I wouldn't go as far as to say that I didn't, at all, put any consideration into those things even back then. It just wasn't nearly as detailed or polished, for that matter. Here, though, I do have a lot more confidence in this story than I once did. Hence why I'm posting it now and why I didn't back then. There was a lot indecision that clouded my creative judgement.
Now, most of you are probably wondering how long this story will be, how far am I taking this, and what my intentions are regarding certain things.
This story will be very long. I'm planning on Ash traveling through most of the regions, with the exception of Johto. I felt the Gen 2 games were lackluster and, far in a way, the least innovative and bleak in terms of the Pokedex. Between Typhlosion literally having the exact same base stats as Charizard (seriously, pull up both of their profiles on Smogon or Bulbapedia. They're the exact same statistic wise), the Pokemon introduced are incredibly weak, and most of them only got better in future generations with additional evolutions like Yanmega, Mismagius, Mamoswine in Gen 4—you get my point. Most of the good Pokemon introduced in Gen 2 were only evolutions from Pokemon created in Gen 1. Kindra, Crobat, Scizor, Steelix, etc, etc. I won't go into a huge spiel about it, anymore than I already have, at least, but I didn't enjoy the Johto games all that much. Although, I am grateful for the addition of dark and steel-types, two of my personal favorites up there ghost-types.
Ash will most likely travel through Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, and Galar at one time or another. This universe is a mixture of the anime and games. Obviously, as I hope all of you have realized by this point, this is an AU. Trainers receive their licenses at the age of 16 in the Kanto region. It has been that way for half a decade. Before, you could be a trainer at a much younger age and the exam was significantly less difficult to pass.
The chapter length will likely stay at around this length. I don't see myself making these chapters smaller or much larger than this.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. This will be the start of something beautiful. I'm ecstatic to work on a fic like this because I have so much I want to do, and I just can't wait to put it on a word document. So, for those who want to give a review, that's awesome. Those that don't, that's cool, too. I can't force you. Just reading my story and enjoying it is enough for me.
