Chapter 4: Set in motion
Delia paced around her kitchen, anxiously awaiting the completion of her blueberry crumble. She often felt lonely, but she had gotten accustomed to it.
After all, since Ash had left those many years ago for his Pokemon journey, she had basically been living an , or so she thought, "unfulfilled life".
She smiled thinking of when Ash would come over again. He had visited her several times over the past years, but it just wasn't enough.
"Mime!"
Surprised, Delia turned to the window which the noise had emanated from, but sighed.
It was only her Mr. Mime, whom she had do many household chores so that she could relax. It was a gift of sorts from Ash, but she almost didn't like it.
Mr. Mime was holding a bag of tomato seeds, and wanted to know where it should plant them.
"Oh, just plant them over there by the flowers, Mimey."
"Mime!" It trotted off towards the yellow flower bed, eager to do it's assigned task.
While it did many chores, it also kept her from being able to do some, which left her pretty much unoccupied throughout the day.
Thankfully, she loved to bake and cook, which is pretty much what she did most of the time. Around Pallet Town, she was often the one who provided much of the food at town meetings and other such gatherings.
Still, she felt unsatisfied with herself. It just seemed unnatural that she was alone after around ten years with Ash. Luckily she had a family friend who lived just a few blocks away; Professor Oak.
While she wasn't as knowledgeable about Pokemon as he was, it was still fun to chat with him about her son and other troubles in her life.
"………We finally have some information about the sudden migration of Pokemon to the eastern areas of Johto and the Orange Islands."
At this, Delia's ears perked and she turned towards the T.V., and began to watch the report. Both she and Oak had wondered why so many Pokemon were heading west, and it seemed that the newsman would finally be able to enlighten them.
"It seems that the cause of this migration lies outwards to the Orange Islands. Specifically, Shamouti Island, where we have a reporter standing by."
The camera switched to a snow covered island. Delia thought it strange that an island so far west would have snow on it this time of year, but she instead listened to the reporter.
"The cause of this disturbance is still partially unknown, but here's what we do know," The reporter shouted into the camera over the howling winds.
"Oh, come on!" Delia muttered at the television, sipping her cup of coffee, fully aware that it didn't matter what she said or not.
The reporter continued, his voice slightly shaky, "Something has caused a sort of disturbance in the balance of elements. We're not quite sure what that is, but it was enough to bring out the three legendary birds Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres."
Delia's eyes widened. She never would have guessed it would be something as serious as that. She had remembered as a child the tale of them; that the end of the world would come if they were to surface.
"…..The trio has been fighting each other, causing storms like the world has never seen. Now, according to a custom on Shamouti Island, a Chosen One, or savior would be able to calm the elements and restore the balance of the world.
The chosen one is none other than respected trainer, Ash Ketchum of Pallet Town….."
Delia dropped her coffee and raced to the phone, eager to call Professor Oak.
"I don't believe it! My baby, the Chosen One! Wait until Oak hears about this!"
As she neared the phone, it started to ring. Her hands shaking, she answered it and cried into it "Oak? Is that you?"
Professor Oak's voice flowed through the receiver "Yes it is Delia. I presume you've been watching the news?"
"Oh Yes! I can't believe it! I'm so proud of my baby boy! I have to start packing right awa-"
Startled the professor's voice rang through sharply "Packing? You surely don't intend to go out to there right now do you? It's much too dangerous!"
With a spark of insistence that only a worried, protective mother could muster she replied to him.
"Obviously! I want to be there to support him in case he needs any, as well as to give him some food if he's hungry, and maybe even get some clean underwear to him!"
"In that case, I should probably get packing too."
Confused, she asked him "P-Packing? You mean that you want to come along with me?"
She could practically see him smiling as he told her "I couldn't let you go alone! What kind of friend would I be?"
"…..Thank You Professor….." she whispered into the phone.
……………………………………………..
"Can I have your autograph, Ash?"
A young kid, only about 5 years old demanded this of Ash, as he stood outside a busy store, "Albert's Toys and Games".
"Sure thing kid! What's your name?" Ash replied as cheerily as he could to the youngster.
"My name is Edgar!" The small boy squealed back at Ash excitedly.
Ash quickly jotted down on a sheet of paper "To my good friend Edgar! Signed Ash Ketchum", then he handed it to him.
The boy, seemingly satisfied, began to walk away, cutting through the crowd of eager fans, many of whom were about his age, when he suddenly stopped and screeched "HEY!"
Ash looked towards Edgar as he came marching back, as Edgar brandished the piece of paper in front of him.
"What is this s'posed to be?"
Ash looked blankly at the piece of paper.
He didn't notice anything wrong with it.
"….what's wrong?"
His face growing red, Edgar shouted "It's in some Japanese heirogliphycals!"
Ash looked at it, and noticed that it was, in fact, in Japanese.
"Do you have a problem if I write in my native language, Edgar?"
Snobbishly, Edgar retorted "Yes. Why isn't it in English?"
Ash blinked at him "……You know that Pokemon was made in Japan, right?"
Enraged, Edgar shouted at him.
"You're the worst Ash Ketchum ever! You don't even look like him!"
Ash opened his mouth to yell at the kid when suddenly;
"ERNEST! Get in here NOW!"
Ash glared at Edgar, and whispered at him "This isn't over yet, punk!"
Edgar stuck his tongue out at Ash while Ash waded through the thick crowds towards Albert.
Amidst all of the commotion, he loudly asked his boss "What do you need, boss?"
Suddenly, two people grabbed him from behind and forced him to the ground.
"OW! Hey, what's goin' on?"
Suddenly, a Pokeball was thrust into his face, carried by Albert.
"Does this look familiar Ernest? I never would have thought, that you of all people would have tried to steal from the place you work at!"
Ash turned pale, and stuttered to Albert "W-Wh-Where did you find that?"
He could see his boss gloating as he answered "After doing a little reconnaissance work in your backpack, I found several of these amongst other interesting things. What do you have to say for yourself, Ernest?"
Ash decided to tell the truth, in the hopes that he might be let off the hook.
"Wait a minute! I'm not Ernest, I'm Ash! The real Ash Ketchum! You gotta believe me! I swear it's the truth!"
A whiny voice erupted to Ash's right "No he's not! He's the fakest Ash Ketchum I've ever seen!" There stood Edgar, his tiny chest puffed out.
Infuriated, Ash squirmed against the police officers restraining him
"Why you little-"
Albert made a tsk noise at Ash.
"Ernest! How dare you threaten good, paying customers? Ones that don't steal from me? Take him away, boys!"
Ash struggled to explain that they were actually his Pokemon in their Pokeballs, but the feeling of a gun placed against his cheek made him stop.
"Easy, Bobby! We've got this under control!" the police officer behind Ash's right shoulder said to the one by his left shoulder.
Ash muttered rapidly and darkly under his breath as he was forced into the police cruiser.
……………………….
"Ash? What are you doing?" Brock asked Ernest.
"What? Oh, I'm just fixin up something for us to eat. They say that a hungry lion hunts best, but that an army travels on its stomach." Ernest replied gaily.
"I see…….what are you making then?" Brock asked quizzically.
"Oh, just a little something I call 'pancake extraordinaire'."
"So….you're making pancakes?"
"That's what simpletons refer to it as, but I guess you're right."
"Wow. I didn't know you can cook."
"Oh, I can cook! Hey, since I'm making most of this, do you want to help me out?" Ernest queried.
Brock was unsettled by this question. Normally, Ash steadfastly refused help, and certainly didn't ask for it. That first aid kit must have really messed him up…..
"I suppose I could help out a fellow chef in training, but we'll have to make it quick. We can't put off saving the world forever."
Suddenly, Brock thought of a plan….to pay Ash back for not paying at the diner.
"Here, just let me get the ingredients for you."
Brock reached into his knapsack and pulled out a miniscule amount of pancake mix, a couple of eggs, and his own "special" ingredient, Tank patch ( a liquid metal used to repair military tank shells).
"You know, I really can't tell you how much I appreciate all of you coming out here to help me like this. Why, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have people to help me. I've often been called a clumsy mess of sorts. I guess I just try too hard, knowhutimean?"
Brock was busy pouring the tank patch into the pancake mixture and hurriedly said "What? Oh I hear you on that. Here's your pancake stuff."
Ernest grinned and said, "Thanks. Now, first things first, to add the eggs."
Without cracking them, he threw the eggs into the bowl.
Brock glanced at him.
Ernest continued on, as though he was on a cooking show. "Then, to add the pancake mixture." He dumped the discolored mixture into the bowl.
Brock was struggling to keep a straight face as Ernest went on talking.
"Give it a good mix…." He struggled to stir the ingredients together and after several minutes, finally finished.
"Now just slap some of this on the pancake griddle…"
He had the brownish mixture suspended in the air, and stopped.
"But first things first, to check if the griddle has warmed itself to the precise, pancake development temperature."
Remembering his days of youth, where, in order to check the temperature of a pole on a winter day, he stuck his tongue on the blazing hot griddle.
"Uuuuph….yeah, thas definily hot enuh…. Ugghhhh!"
Ernest was trying to lift his tongue from the grill, while Brock was laughing hysterically at him.
"Of all the stupid things in the world to do, I wouldn't have thought that even you would stick your tongue on a sizzling griddle! HAHAHA!"
Ernest waved his arms around frantically, and shouted as best one could with a tongue stuck to a burning griddle, to Brock for help.
"Owww! Geh me a pathula!"
Brock knew what he was asking for, but instead played dumb.
"A what? I don't think I have one of those……"
Ernest was manically pointed at the spatula on Brocks cookware.
"The pathula! I nee the pathula! Owww!"
Brock was unable to contain his laughing, and yowled to Ernest. "I'm sorry Ash! I don't know what you need! You have to speak a little bit clearer!"
Frustrated, Ernest made his best effort to tug himself away from the griddle and reached for the spatula. He grunted, and finally managed to get a hold of the plastic utensil, just as Misty and Melody were walking in.
"What's all of this racket? What's going AAAAAH!"
Misty shouted surprised at the sight of a struggling Ernest with his tongue stuck to a active pancake griddle.
Melody whispered to herself, "I'm beginning to wonder if Ash really is the chosen one. He's acting like such a moron…."
"Puuu-waaaaaah!"; Ernest unstuck his charred tongue, and said as clearly as he could, "Yup. I'm pretty sure it's hot enough to cook a pancake now."
Using a spatula, he lifted the heavy glob of metallic pancake batter onto the steaming griddle, and it began to sizzle and hiss per usual.
Interested, Misty noted to Ernest, "Ash, I didn't know you can cook."
Brock opened his mouth to decry her statement, when Ernest replied.
"Yeah, I can cook. Although some people cook for their own basic needs, I recognize cooking for what it really is; a art. I can prepare such fine cuisine, like pancakes, sandwiches, and many other Botswanian delicacies."
Melody commented to Misty "Well, before we start bragging about the fact that Ash can cook, we should probably taste some of it, just to see if it is worth all the commotion."
Ernest looked down, and exclaimed as he lifted the pancake up, not without effort, and said "Hey, the first pancake is finished! Who would like to sample this fine culinary masterpiece?"
Everyone looked disgusted at the so-called pancake, which had streaks of metallic silver jutting irregularly from underneath the normal golden brown coating.
"We don't have any takers? Well, I guess I'll just have to preview my own dish."
Ernest elevated the pancake to his mouth, and sunk his teeth into the steely concoction, furiously trying to get a chunk of it off into his mouth.
"Well, it is a bit tough. Maybe some syrup would do the trick?"
Not missing out on another chance to humiliate Ash, Brock dug into his bag and pulled out some "syrup".
"Here you go Ash! Bon appetite! Hehehe…."
Misty noticed the label, which read "Motor Oil", and shouted "ASH! NO WAIT!"
But it was too late. Ernest had already ripped a piece of the metal cake into his mouth and had poured some oil into his mouth to wash it down.
Everyone stared at Ernest, bewildered. Ernest finished swallowing his creation and smiled. "Well, it's kinda chewy, but it sure was delicious!"
Feeling oddly satisfied (as anyone who swallowed a bit of metal would), he placed his hand on his stomach and exasperatedly cried "That sure did hit the spot, knowhutimean? Who else wants to try some?"
Melody covered her mouth with her pale hand and muttered "I think I'm going to be sick…."
Misty glared at Brock with a fierce gaze that would scare even the most hardened of criminals. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD DO THAT TO HIM! YOU GAVE HIM A METAL PANCAKE MIXTURE? AND HAD HIM WASH IT DOWN WITH MOTOR OIL? THAT'S A COMPLETE ABOMINATION!"
She lowered hey vision towards Ernest who absentmindedly responded "It may not be the greatest pancake in the world, but I wouldn't call it an abombidation either. You can thank him for helping me make it!" He pointed at Brock.
Misty was about to snap back at Ernest, when instead she told him "Well Ash, now that you've eaten your….uhhh…meal, I think it's best if you did the whole save the world thing. You might as well get it over with."
Ernest snapped his gaze proudly to the redhead, and triumphantly called out "Right you are lady! In fact, I'll get going right now! No one's going to eat this pancake right?" No one answered, so he put it in his back pocket. "I'll take it with me then. You can never, ever, ever be too prepared for this sort of thing. Plus, I'll need to keep up my strength, so that I may forever journey forward on my path to my destination."
Receiving only blank stares from the rest of the group, he stood up and began to walk towards the myriad number of isles beyond the pillars.
Misty looked towards Ernest and shouted out worriedly; "Ash? You're leaving already? So suddenly?"
Ernest turned around, with one eye squinting and his face in a smug expression, and yelled "I have to! After all, I am the chosen one, and what else do chosen ones do?"
Misty thought, and shouted back, "I guess you have a point there, Ash! Well……. Good Luck!"
"With my raw unbridled talent, luck is nothing more than a superstition.
But thanks anyways ma'am!"
Misty faced tinged a slightest shade of pink, and she thought Since when has Ash called me "Ma'am"?
"Misty?"
Misty snapped out of her trance at Brock's voice.
"What do you want?"
"Are you going to tell Ash?"
Misty heart skipped a beat at Brock's question. "Wha—Tell Ash what?"
Melody looked at Brock, who returned the stare. Brock then looked back to
Misty.
Brock sighed a long exasperated sigh, "….Nothing…."
