Who I Am - Lightning99

Chapter 3:

The Aftermath

By dawn, Pallet Town's night-time tragedy headlined every TV channel in Kanto with the same, haunting message:

Aspiring Pokémon Trainer, Ash Ketchum, found dead after Pallet Town catastrophe.

Following Ash's escape, Hyper Beams had rained for thirty minutes, each laser tearing at the earth, destroying homes, and injuring the citizens. Cavernous holes now sank in places paths once were, rubble replaced the rustic architecture that provided the small town with its welcoming mien, and ashes and dying flames littered the former settlement. Pallet Town was destroyed, all except the few houses mercifully positioned at the border, including Ash's house and the Oak's mansion.

Ambulances came and went all through the night. Officer Jenny and the police took trembling statements, jotting endless notes into their black books. It wasn't much before three o'clock that the less injured could rest and begin to wonder where the invisible creature that assaulted them had vanished.

Nobody noticed Ash's disappearance until Delia Ketchum herself discovered his charred, ashy hat protruding out of the wreckage while providing aid. First, he was ruled missing, and then the media arrived, and somehow, the story of his passing had arisen. Grief soon overpowered Pallet's natives, and the sudden fabrication became the twisted truth. Delia wept until sunrise.

In the staff rooms of Viridian's Pokémon Center, Brock awoke Saturday morning ecstatic for another successful day at work. In the last year, his career as a Pokémon Doctor had flourished. More jobs spiked his recognition and popularity, earning him more notability. His life was perfect, and Ash had called him a few days before to announce his return. He couldn't wait to see him again.

Then Brock switched on the television at breakfast, skimming the headline but comprehending the words a dreadful syllable at a time. His heart died, and his breakfast dish seemed to phase through his fingers, fracturing against the waxed wooden floor.

W-What?! Ash is—He unmuted the TV immediately, fumbling the remote.

"-last night. According to the victims, there were several injuries, some being severe. Later that morning, at one-forty-four AM, a single death was registered. It was a boy known as Ash Ketchum, whom, our sources tell us, had just returned to Kanto from competing in the Kalos region Pokémon League Finals. Now, here is our correspondent at the scene. Amy, what further information can you tell us?"

Brock didn't wait to hear the rest. He rushed out the front door and ran through the nearly abandoned forest to Pallet Town, his panicked thoughts all concerning Ash's fate. Step after step, turn after turn, Brock's heart hammered faster and faster. He wished to Arceus that the news about Ash wasn't real, that when he knocked on the Ketchum's door, Ash would be stood on the other side, his cheerful voice rejoicing as they reunited with a worry-alleviating, brotherly embrace.

When he arrived, Brock saw Pallet's remains first-hand, confirming the town's tragedy was true. It was in a terrible state, and even as he gazed upon it, it seemed impossible; not two days earlier, he had been there on an errand for Nurse Joy, and the buildings had been standing as solidly as Regigigas.

Brock hardly stopped running until he reached the town, where he spontaneously decided to check Professor Oak's lab. It was the closest place he could get answers from. And answeres were all he needed.

Climbing the hill to the top – wheezing painfully and yearning for Ash's safety – Brock stumbled into a hole where the door used to be. The lab looked as devasted as he'd expected after seeing the rest of Pallet. Glass shards from the blown-out windows were as frequent as dust on the floor. Large cracks in the walls were the new wallpaper, and the collapsed chunks of the roof were the new decoration. It was a building out of an apocalypse.

The scent of coffee overwhelmed Brock immediately as he breached the doorway. His arrival seemed to stun the people lazing mutely within, holding mugs and wrapped in blankets. They stared at him, and the grave silence was not a good sign for Ash's fate.

Brock saw Misty, May, and Max, the Kalos companions Ash had told him about over video chat, Tracey, Drew, and some workers sitting around. Everybody inside was covered by plasters and bandages covering their arms, legs, heads, and bodies. May and Tracey even worse slings, and Misty held a pair of crutches. Brock would not have been surprised if someone told him he had mistakenly entered a hospital ward. But something else concerned him too. Why were they all there?

"Oh, Arceus…" Brock muttered, looking between their injuries and their eyes, the sadness in the latter worrying him even more.

"Brock…" Misty said, her voice watery and wavering.

"T–Tell me it's not true…" Brock whispered.

Misty whimpered, fresh tears bursting from her eyes, covering the stains of the previous ones on her cheeks.

"N-No. No, no, no…" Brock backed up until his back hit the wall. He slid down, dropping his head in his hands. "H-How… No, he was – no…"

"It-It happened so fast. We were," May hesitated, hiding her lips beneath her hands, "talking, and then whatever it was attacked. Ash he-he disappeared in the middle of it. When the police arrived, they said that he–"

"But–" Brock's voice cracked. "Did you check? I mean, if you didn't see that he did, how can you know for sure?"

"W-Well," Drew started, a fraction of something unusual in his eyes – discomfort.

"Yes, I saw him," Professor Oak said, suddenly appearing in the room. Hearing Oak's voice, Brock scrambled to his feet. Brock was crying, but his mood changed from depressed to angry as quick as a flick of a switch because a few nights ago, Oak had called him with a plan. He had wanted him to turn against Ash, to convince him to stop being a trainer.

Brock glared at him more ferociously than the move, and he noticed Oak did not seem sad at the loss of his prodigy. He barely showed any emotion. It was sickening as if looking at the Professor made him less of a human. But, after his desperate phone call, Brock guessed the Professor was incapable, too selfish to wear emotions.

"As if I can believe what you say anymore!" Brock shouted.

"Believe what you want, Harrison. It's the truth," Oak said. Brock opened his mouth to argue the fact, but then he saw the defeated expressions of those around him, and his anger dissipated.

"No – no, this can't be happening." Brock's knees hit the ground hard. Nothing phased Brock usually. It rarely had. He was rarely dispirited whenever women rejected him, and he did not brood when he lost battles. But, here, in this case, his boulder-like heart cracked. He tried looking to somebody, anybody, for some hope, but there was none.

The room became as silent as a vacuum. Brock lowered his head as if joining them in mourning.

For five minutes straight, Brock cried as he remembered Ash, his lively smile, cheerful laugh, boundless compassion, fierce determination, and recklessness. And even with the overwhelming evidence, each beat of Brock's heart was a punch of desperate denial as he tried to fight the idea that Ash was gone. He yearned for it not to be true because he could not imagine living without Ash. But he knew, deep down, he had to accept it.

But it was hard to do. Last night, Brock hadn't lost his best friend. He lost his brother, a feeling he was sure would be identical to losing one of his by-blood siblings. Since his was so bad, Brock could hardly imagine Pikachu's grief. But at least he could share the grief with the rest of Ash's friends, through whom he might be able to understand the situation.

Suddenly, Brock felt uneasy. Something tickled his brain when he thought of Ash's other friends. He pondered the question again: why were they all there? Then, Brock gasped aloud, a potential reason immersing him in a blind rage.

"Oak," Brock growled, "before Ash died, did you do it? Did you betray him?"

"Don't use such derogatory terms. We did what was necessary–"

As fast as a Geodude buffed by Rock Polish, Brock was on his feet, and, in a blink, he hoisted Oak between himself and the nearest wall. Oak's face contorted into a blend of bewilderment and discomforted pain. Brock glared; he didn't notice the bystanders frightfully leaping out of their seats.

"We?! Tell me you didn't do it! Tell me!"

"W-What are you insinuating?! I didn't kill Ash! Why would you even assume such a—?"

Brock pushed his fists harder into Oak's shoulders. He winced. "Don't play dumb with me, Oak! Did you do it – get everyone to betray Ash?! Was that the last thing that happened to him before he died? Was that his dying memory?!"

The extensive silence that followed answered for Oak, who was too stubborn to reply. Brock dropped him to the ground.

"Are you being serious?! You seriously did it?! You even said all that – that rubbish about being his father figure?! Do you know how much that means – meant to Ash?! I can't believe this!" Exasperated, Brock turned away, and he saw the others looking on.

"The rest of you, too? Misty, Ash changed your life – literally! Max, how do you think you're so smart when it comes to Pokémon? And May he only helped make you the trainer you are today. How could you, all of you?"

Brock stormed towards the door, shaking his head. Beside the door stood a honey-haired, blue-eyed beauty who was trembling. Brock quickly deduced her as Serena from Ash's descriptions, the girl Ash told him he loved. He said his farewell pointedly to her.

"All of you are despicable."

Marching back into the mild Kantonian morning, abandoning them to wallow in his words, Brock knew where he was going. Mrs Ketchum should not be alone after losing her son.

Clemont escaped Professor Oak's lab warily after Brock left. Reaching the boundary of the ranch where the hills restricted further development, he pathetically vaulted the fence and sauntered away, his shoulders sagging.

He needed some alone time away from the Professor. In the lab, monitors stalked his every movement where Oak's Spearow eyes couldn't follow, instilling a requirement to obey that he was averse to accept. He wasn't allowed to criticise or reprimand Oak without consequences. Alternatively, he could wander without detection in the forest and release the acidic emotions overflowing in his chest. Brock's visit had only worsened Clemont's predicament: they were despicable.

Clemont felt like a coward, that he was gutless and weak, two coinciding qualities that stopped him from enacting his duty as Ash's friend last night. Since he and Bonnie were invited to Kanto and informed of Professor Oak's plan for Ash, he had been recluse. He had promptly rejected the Professor's ideas and avoided everyone, wondering how much his TV persona was a façade.

However, intimidation had overpowered him, and Clemont had succumbed. Like in the schoolyards of his youth, the stronger, more confident individuals – the bullies – hounded him relentlessly until his will was as potent as dust, and he upheld their wishes. This time, the weight of his mistake was crushing. He had betrayed his best friend, and now he was dead, leaving no way for reconciliation, was it at all possible.

Clemont slumped against a tree and lay his head in his hands, weeping. He hated himself for what he'd done and what Bonnie had been unknowingly coerced to do. It seemed she had not completely understood the immorality in their plan, so the Professor's words easily manipulated her. She was yet another person Clemont had failed to protect.

He had even had a chance to revoke his actions when Ash consulted him directly, yet, out of fear, he chose to foolishly withhold his opinions even when the person from who he sapped his courage had stood five feet away. And now Ash was gone, and with it so had vanished Clemont's courage, giving way for the diffidence he had a year ago to reform, and his weakness would get him kicked out of his gym again. Without Ash, Clemont felt hollow. Without Ash, nothing would be good again.

Finally sat alone, Clemont drowned in his sadness. Tears erupted from his eyes, and he hammered his fists against a tree until they were red-raw. That pain was the least he deserved, but he knew it was incomparable to what Ash had felt. The last time Clemont cried like that was when his mother had died, but his grief felt different this time. The salty water gushing down his face felt like acid engraving burns on his cheeks that would forever remind him of his abhorrent choices.

Clemont looked up at the sky, imagining Ash had gone to heaven. "I'm sorry, Ash!" Clemont yelled, falling limply against the tree. The forest echoed him once, twice, then the sound was lost to nature, never reaching its target.

Calmed from his anger by the walk through the new barrenness isolating Ash's former house, Brock purposefully knocked on the white door. Delia was quick to open it. Realising it was Brock, Delia's cheeks smoothed from a despairing expression until they were elfin. She looked pleased, as much as possible given the circumstances. There was a definite woefulness permeating her eyes that she struggled to conceal, and evidence of tears blemished her cheeks.

Delia sounded remarkably frail when she spoke. "Hello, Brock," she whispered. "I assume you heard—" Brock swiftly nodded to prevent giving her the hardship of saying it aloud.

"Yes, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Brock. I'm sure this has had a big effect on you too. Please, come in. I've just been talking with three more of Ash's friends."

Accepting her proposal, Brock stepped into the house. He paused for Delia to lead him in, withholding his impolite desire to hug away her grief, and he wondered with who she was speaking. Earlier, he had been too emotional to assign names to faces and discern who had adhered to Oak's plan. Brock knew Dawn had not been there, at least. She had contacted him a week before the engagement to vent her anxiety after Oak asked her about it too.

When Brock entered the living room, he couldn't believe who sat there, casually sipping tea.

James, Jessie, and Meowth: Team Rocket.

"Team Rocket?! What are you doing here?!" Brock recoiled, wielding his accusation finger. They looked as surprised to see him as he was to see them, panicked even.

"Ughh, shut—"

"It's a long story," James interrupted Jessie, receiving a glare. "Essentially, we're here because—"

"Mrs Ketchum, you know who these people are, don't you?" Brock interrupted this time, assuming they had deceived her. "They aren't Ash's close friends. They're the people that always try to kidnap Pokémon!"

"Brock, it's—"

"Leave Mrs Ketchum alone right now! You have no idea what she's going through!"

"Honestly, twerp-senior, we do knowwhat she's going through," Meowth said, folding his arms.

"What are you talking about?" Brock demanded.

"Brock, dear, please take a seat. We'll explain everything to you."

Eyeing Delia, then Team Rocket, then Delia again, Brock sceptically sat opposite the trio, ensuring his eyes did not leave them for a second. Delia sat beside him.

"James, why don't you explain?" Delia offered.

Ever the gentleman, James nodded, "Of course, ma'am. You see, Brock, we arrived home from the Kalos region two weeks ago, which would be two weeks before the twerp – Ash, my apologies, would come home. At that time, our desire to be recognised as true crooks, villains, whatever, by Giovanni had consumed us because, when you get involved with him, nobody wants to disappoint him. You don't know how truly terrifying Giovanni can be."

Delia's twitch went unnoticed.

"As is routine, we returned to Team Rocket's base of operations to file our yearly report. However, we saw something utterly terrifying and – things happened. Since the Rocket Bunker is the only home we've known for years, and we are wanted criminals here in Kanto, we spent two weeks scraping by. By happenchance, we were in Viridian City yesterday when Ash arrived home. We decided to tell him what had happened, as he was the only one who might understand.

"We followed him to Pallet Town, albeit at quite a distance so as not to provoke him. But we lost him when he dashed home. Knowing he would go to the Professor's Pokémon Ranch – we've researched where he keeps his Pokémon, you see – we waited in the woods. How were we to know what that mad professor and all of his old companions had planned? We witnessed everything: Oak belittling Ash, telling him to give up, his friends agreeing—"

"His Pokémon too! Although not all of them were there from what I heard," Meowth added.

"—and then the attack. Like everybody else, we didn't see what attacked. We fled. But you can imagine our panic in such a situation.

"Now, you might be wondering what that has to do with us being here. We've followed Ash on his journey for six years now, and being around somebody for so long forms a deep bond with them, even if the interactions haven't always been friendly. In all honesty, we felt the news of his death quite heavily, almost like losing one of our own. We have visited Mrs Ketchum to give our condolences and apologise for our actions towards Ash in the past. Yes, it doesn't fit our character, but, and I speak for the three of us when I say this: we are sorry for our actions over the years." James bowed his head, Jessie and Meowth followed, the former hesitantly.

Brock sat in awe. Firstly, because of their respectfulness and courage to even approach the house, let alone apologise directly, and secondly, because of their evident sincerity. There had always been signs that they weren't as evil as they seemed, especially for James. Perhaps this was their awakening, their apogee where the realisation of how unnecessarily self-destructive their lifestyle was would change them for the better. Brock hoped so.

"Also, Brock, they were the ones that told me of Professor Oak's plan. As devastated as I am, I'm glad they told me."

"Yeah, I figured she ought to know so she can avoid that guy," Jessie said, suddenly livening, smirking, "or maybe get some revenge! If so, I have lots of ideas—"

"Jessie!" the Rocket males shouted.

"Right, right, sorry!"

"Honestly, I – kind of respect you for doing this. I'm sure Ash would have too. He knew you weren't all bad, and it looks like he was right." The reformed trio responded with nods and smiles.

Next, Brock looked at Delia with a blue face. "And I have to apologise to you, Mrs Ketchum. I knew what Oak was planning, but I didn't even consider calling to warn you. As much as it would have broken Ash to hear such a thing – as much as we know it did – knowing sooner could have prevented his…"

"No, Brock, don't blame yourself, please!" Delia exclaimed, "Nobody is to blame, not even Professor Oak. Whatever attacked Pallet Town last night is to blame. We were unprepared. There was nothing we could do."

"Indeed," Meowth said, "we couldn't even see the creature, so there was no way to prevent it. If only it could've been one of the others."

Delia stared at him with a motherly sternness that made him cringe.

"Now Meowth, we mustn't talk like that! No matter how much we think it."

"Sorry, ma'am! A force of habit."

Reclining in his chair, Brock took a moment's pause, feeling strangely closer to Ash after learning of the events last night. All that remained were memories of adventures that would never fade from Brock's heart, but that meant Ash was still with him. There, Ash would thrive forever, living like he always had. He wasn't dead at all.

Brock considered bringing up the unreliability of not seeing Ash's body but, considering the possibility of giving Delia false hope, he refrained.

"What are your plans from now on?" Delia asked Team Rocket when Brock readjusted to the conversation.

"Well, we bought plane tickets yesterday morning, so we're going to a new region in about an hour to start anew possibly," James replied.

"That's a good idea, but keep in touch, alright? You're good people at heart."

"Of course, Brock." He and James shook hands, sealing their new friendship.

"I agree. Please keep in touch where possible," Delia agreed. "What region are you going to?"

"Oh, some faraway place called the Alola region."

Alola to Alola! scribed in wispy letters on an ornate signboard depicting several islands surrounded by an exotic sea was the first thing Ash saw after disembarking the plane. He did not think twice about it; he absently cleared the necessary process in the airport and headed for the exit.

Several concerned eyes followed Ash through the airport, likely due to his filthy, injured appearance. He left the airconditioned building, stepping out into a stifling evening heat, and the staring continued as he wandered along the street, joined by some muttering. But Ash did not have the energy or will to ward them off.

He was exhausted, not physically – he and Pikachu had slept for nearly the entire flight after their draining ordeal, however long it had been – but mentally. His friends' hateful words – if he could even call them friends anymore – repeated incessantly in his head, simultaneously performing a Horn Leech on his strength and making him question himself. He told himself he was worthless, reiterated and conjured what his friends' opinions of him might be now, how much they disliked him and how Serena wanted nothing to do with him.

While he succumbed to the consequences of the ordeal on his psyche and wandered the moonlit streets without purpose, he disregarded the island's magnificent starry sky, a night sky entirely vacant of clouds and smoke, that seemed somehow timid in its unveiling. Pikachu was the same, his eyes glassy and unfocused, paws tucked as close to his furry chest as was possible. It was a sight they had once been eager to commemorate. Now, it just seemed hollow.

Ash passed the city's border, where the mini-metropolis merged with nature five minutes later. A dense forest filled with peaking mountains and jungle-like growth and trees swallowed him in five more. He had seen from the plane that the forest covered one half of the island in a contorted crescent shape. It was wide enough to conceal numerous small villages within it. The thick trees with healthy green leaves created an expansive, gleaming canopy that parted in scattered sections, blessing the flora beneath with light.

After trekking aimlessly for an hour, Ash shrugged away a metre-tall bush with his shoulder and stumbled into a glade. Two worn logs about a metre apart, slanted to face each other, stood to his immediate right. Not six steps away, a great pond expanded, its still surface reflecting the crepuscular rays of moonlight shining through the leaves with an ethereal shimmer.

The familiar sight of a camp in the woods charmed Ash, but only fleetingly. His anguish returned with the force of a geyser tearing through stone. He fell to the floor, and that's when his emotions, loosely reigned behind his vacantness, broke free.

Perhaps the forest had been Ash's unconscious goal, a ploy to isolate himself, give his emotions an open battlefield away from prying eyes, good-willed or not, to wage their war to its climax: his break-down. He let it happen, what now felt like a necessity, and the first tears he shed since the ordeal burst his eyes. What he assumed was twenty-four hours of stored sadness – given how long the flight had been – gushed out of him. He wept, sobbed, gasped, yelled, curled up in the foetal position, hoping somehow that any of those actions would dull the pain in his heart that soon became physical. It wasn't long before Pikachu, who observed him with his ears drooped at first, broke down himself.

What felt like an hour passed. Then a second, and then, eventually, as they expelled their emotions into the air to float away in the breeze, the broken pair cried themselves to sleep.