Equanimity Chapter 30
Ash was honestly not sure how much more of this he could take.
He put on the fake smiles, the big shows. He carried on as if nothing in his life changed. After all, what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't stop. Couldn't shut down.
He had to keep going.
"Pikachu, dodge right, follow it with iron tail!"
Across a sheltered battled ground, Ash shouted, raising his arm high. At the center field, the yellow rodent bounced fiercely away from his opponent, a powerful corsola. The opposing pokemon and trainer took notice of Pikachu's quick action a moment too late, and Ash found himself wondering once again, how anyone managed to win the league, if they couldn't keep up with pikachu.
Falling high from the sky, with a twist and screech, pikachu landed a critical hit on top of the coral pokemon's spikes, slamming him hard into the ground before his trainer knew what to say—some glasses totting kid, picking a fight on the wrong day.
Perhaps it was the choice of pokemon—as corsola was a certain girl's-who Ash would not think of in the middle of a battle—star battler. Ash wasn't petty enough to force his rage onto innocent battlers, but if someone had watched him today—they might have thought otherwise.
In the stands, he could hear the Elite Four whisper under their breath. Most commonly, the phrase "is he usually this aggressive in battle?"
No. The water pokemon trainer just picked a really bad day—in fact, Ash couldn't fathom why anyone would want to be just a water pokemon trainer in the first place!
"It's okay corsola, you gave it your all!"
Last pokemon Ash thought to himself, reeling in a breath and cocking his head to the side. One of his scheduled battles with a trainer from another region—this one was from the Hoenn region.
"Vaporeon, I choose you!"
Ah, a classic. Without words, pikachu looked up at Ash, wondering what the game plan was—but clearly, it hadn't changed. A staggering six to zero would be a new record for Ash, the Elite Four might even be a little scared. Then again, pikachu was Ash's powerhouse, and they were overly efficient when they were both upset.
No, this trainer picked the wrong day to attempt to earn passage into the Kalos region—since Ash was pulling no punches.
XOX
Staring at himself in the reflection of the battle halls bathroom mirror was a sight for sore eyes. The bags under his eyes drooped for miles, his hair was a ratted nest beneath his hat, and he was pale. He was losing his suntanned skin, apparently. Lack of traveling would cost him a lot of things, even his complexion—not that his skin tone was the first of his worries. After the intense battle, pikachu was in recovery with the resident Nurse Joy even though he didn't take any damage, and Ash took refuge anywhere but in the public eye.
For a little over three weeks, he hadn't so much as made a public appearance, people were probably starting to think he had died. Meanwhile, the young fans that knew he wasn't dead, started a web page and called him every name under the sun; including a diva. Ash didn't even know what that last one was!
No, death had not taken him and while he might be behaving a bit over-dramatic, he also wasn't a jerk. Breaking up with his girlfriend and best friend had taken a toll on his mental health. The last time Ash was this depressed, he was too young to remember it because it was right after his dad left. He was depressed, and he would have been lying if he said otherwise. She who could not be thought of at the moment believed the break up was mutual, but Ash was still trying to wrap his head around how it happened in the first place.
Well, he knew how, obviously. He wasn't stupid. Ash knew for sometime this was an option, probably before Misty did. Only, Ash prayed they could have patched up the holes before the ship capsized and sunk. So did pikachu—if anyone was taking it as hard as Ash was, it was pikachu. The pokemon still preformed well in battle—too good, actually. Ash worried that the pokemon was going over the deep end, since Misty left, he hadn't been himself. Lethargic, aggressive, and moody.
Regrettably, Ash couldn't say he was much better.
The hardest part of moving on after a break up, not that Ash had much experience in it, was wondering who he was supposed to talk to when the dust settled. Misty had her sisters—Tracey, maybe even Brock, seeing as she kept in contact with everyone much better than he ever had—and Ash had Gary, and Brock. Maybe May or Dawn if he was really pushing it. However, Ash knew how each conversation would play out.
Gary would chastise him; what did you do? He would follow with a stern scolding, and ensure Ash that he would be fine and not to be a big baby. He would probably tell Ash to apologize.
Brock was realistically the same. The conversation would start with Brock asking what Ash did wrong, followed quickly by go fix it, then after some minor explanation, because there was still some details Ash was wrapping his own head around, Brock would still insist that Ash go fix it first. Misty is stubborn, she needs to be pushed sometimes—and blah, blah, blah.
Really, he wasn't in the mood to listen to Brock's wondrous views of his relationship with Misty. After all, Brock clearly had more faith in them than either of them did themselves!
There was always Clemont, but he didn't want to bother the new gym leader with his issues, the kid had finally gotten his gusto back for running the gym. Ash didn't want to drag him down.
Then there was the case of May and Dawn. While May would openly exclaim 'fix it'; she wouldn't pick sides because she would never pin him and Misty against one another by saying that it was either of their faults, but she would also have no advice, either. More than likely, she would end the phone conversation with calling Misty, and demanding that she also fix it. May was nothing if not reliable.
Dawn, on the other hand, would not pull punches in blaming Misty. While the blue-haired wonder may have called Misty for support, when it came to Ash, Dawn was always on his side—by his side. At first, he thought he really wanted someone to vent to, to have the same anger as he did boiling at the pit of his stomach—but he also did not want to paint Misty in a bad light.
After all, a relationship consisted of two people, and if Ash had been putting forth all his effort, the situation wouldn't have gotten so dicey.
No, even if he wanted to put the blame on Misty, he wasn't fool enough to exclude his faults. If Ash could, he would redo the last five months. He would try a little harder, call more often, take a damn plane ride.
Not that it mattered now, he already established how much his selfless-selfish roots had seeded, and he wasn't interested in anyone's advice. Ash was a bad boyfriend, Misty was socially attacked and he did nothing to change it; or help it, or even admit that he realized it was a problem. He avoided trips to see her, believed his position and title to be more important than her own, and on a very long list of importance, let the loyal redhead fall somewhere at the end.
Apparently, it was normal to blame himself, or so pikachu had told him over and over again. It was as much Misty's fault as it was his. She bottled everything up, she refused to rely on him, she refused to trust him. Half the time, she could have made as many calls as he could have—she could have insisted that he come down—talked him into it. For as much as he could have tried harder, she could have, too.
Instead, she was the one who weaseled out—got too scared and cut the strings.
Perhaps, it was her leniency and panic that angered him the most. Relationships had problems, especially his and Misty's—they always had problems! Yet, she was the one who ran when it got tough. Not Ash, the most inexperienced man alive when it came to relationships. While knowing how awful he was at them, she still hiked up her shorts and ran away. After insisting that she wouldn't—after fighting with him for so long. After coming back into his life, making him fall for her all over again—just to rip his beating heart right out... Ash tore the paper towel in his hand, and felt the warm tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.
Damn it, not again. He swore, swiping at the wetness with his gloves.
This is why he hated thinking, this is why he never got wrapped up in his thoughts. Ash hated that he wore his emotions on his sleeves: cried so carelessly, angered so easily. He was trying to understand how this all happened, but internal conflicts were not his forte—he was better at acting, and figuring it out as he went—only, he couldn't figure it out if she wasn't around to fix it with him! Then...the idea of going on without her in his life was just.. it made him sick.
"Pikapi pikachu?" The mouse squeaked for him, and Ash knew he had to get a hold of himself. His first public appearance since the renouncing of that look a like that nearly cost him his job was coming up in the broadcast hall where he had his first interview.
Well...at least it was fun while it lasted.
"Yeah, I'm in here, buddy. Just finishing up." On cue, the mouse popped into the dark bathroom, ears twitching. "You know how worked up battles get me. I can't go on TV all sweaty; what would mom say?"
A twinkle formed in pikachu's eye, the reminiscence of a laugh that never reached his vocal cords. Eagerly, he plopped onto Ash's shoulder as the trainer wiped his nose, adjusted his cap, and exhaled loudly.
"Well, now's a better time than ever, huh?" pikachu heard the strain in his voice, and as a result, his ears lowered, but Ash put it out of his mind, forced his eyes to stop watering over, and stepped into the hall way.
Once out, he was chaperoned to a limousine, seated with the other five members of the upper ring of the Kalos region, and driven to the same television network with an interview with the same woman as before. Ash didn't try to make conversation with his co-workers anymore; they always stuck their nose up at him, though he would be lying if he didn't feel some joy at their expressions.
He knew the questions would come, they always did: and how is your girlfriend?
Well, do you want me to answer it honestly, because let me write you an essay, and I've never written one of those before! He was so spiteful it was scary, he felt his neck go limp, and his chin hit his chest. Ash hated this feeling in his gut, the stabbing sensation in his chest. He could never remember feeling so torn apart when he and Serena broke up.
Then again, Misty was there to pick up the pieces, now, he had no one. No one but pikachu, and he had to give the mouse his gratitude, because no one stuck to his side like his one true companion. Not to mention, since their break up, Ash was learning to see his job and title in a new light. He was nothing more than a pawn to the league he was so devoted to.
The Kalos region was the only region where the league champion stuck around until his replacement; since the region was more decorated and respected—revolving around the idea of mega evolution—they expected a lot from their champions, no matter how limited their time at the top. Ash had already spent nearly half his time in the seat running errands and being a pretty face on a camera for everyone to see. Since his stunt a few weeks ago, however, the amount of work he had to accomplish was greatly diminished. Actually, outside of a few test battles for Kalos league entries, he had remained faceless, rotting in his hotel room.
Maybe they hoped that time away would give the world a chance to realize that he wasn't trying to make a complete ass out of himself. Then again, it might have been because the region realized that Ash wasn't as interested in his position as he was initially. Especially not after everything that had happened.
When they pulled up to the news station, Ash stepped out without missing a beat, forgetting that the door was supposed to be opened for him. He ignored the large gathering of people with a few waves of his hand, and thought of how strange and normal it felt. Before, he got excited over the attention and recognition, now he felt like a trapped animal. An exhibit in a zoo. Pikachu seemed to pick up on his emotional wavelength, because he tucked himself behind Ash's neck, trying to avoid the cameras.
Maybe it was because instead of chants of valor and applause, he listened to them whisper, mock his name, shun his title; all because he stopped smiling and being the perfect poster boy of the Kalos region. What's wrong with Ash Ketchum? They spoke in unison to their cameras.
Stepping into the building again, he was met with a terrible contrast of grays that clashed with his blues, especially his red cap.
"What are you doing here dressed like that?" his manager practically wheeled around to focus his angry eyes on Ash, the latter giving a rugged sigh and looking over his clothes.
"I just came from an entry match, didn't have a lot of time to change."
The man looked overly pained, as if he had aged by simply seeing Ash show up in casual street clothes. "It'll have to do. You're on in five—don't make an ass of yourself, okay? Just get through this one interview without...just... just read the teleprompter, okay?"
Had Ash not known this man as he did, he would have confused the worried tone for concern about Ash's well being, but Ash knew the only concern the leading executive manager of the Kalos region's pokemon league had, was concern for himself. Ash swallowed his tongue to defy it the sarcastic remarks he so desperately wanted to spew, and instead forced a smile.
"Whatever you say, boss."
"That's what I want to hear, Ketchum."
The man pushed Ash toward the stage, where he was met with rows of eyes staring beady up at him, some of which immediately started gushing over him, despite the headlines. Despite the events. Ash found his way to the uncomfortable leather chair that made his back sweaty, and plopped into his seat, counting back from one thousand. If he got through this, he could go home and mope in silence. This was the last interview he was scheduled for, and if he did was the old man said, he could probably get out of interviews for the rest of the time he was league champion.
The bubbly news caster from before stepped in, and he immediately realized the change in appearance. Her hair was bright, vivid red, she wore a short white skirt, with a matching white blouse and her skin was pale. Ash felt his stomach flip, and felt the need to puke. He stared at the coffee table, because it didn't remind him of Misty.
"Hello, it's wonderful to see you again, Ash."
"You, too, Kathleen."
"Oh, please. Call my Kathy." She took a seat across from him, avoiding handshakes as Ash leaned back. Pikachu perched on the coffee table, nibbling on the cookies that she had prepared for the show. The mouse immediately spit them out—apparently, they were for looks only.
"Now, your manager already walked you through the questions today, right?"
"No, but I've been asked to use the teleprompter."
"Wonderful, so we won't have anything like last time?" Maybe he was hearing things, but she sounded slightly disappointed.
"I thought our interview went pretty well last time." Ash offered her a wide smile to hide the contempt, but when she smiled back, he realized his sarcasm floated up and over her head.
"Great!" She pointed to the cameras. "We're ready in five...four...three...two..."
They must have been as eager to get this over with as he was. His five minutes were up, now he was in the aftermath portion; after today, he only had a few more months as the league champion, unless the next league winner didn't defeat him—and given the fun he was having, Ash might forfeit.
"Ash Ketchum here with us today, the fabled Kalos region hero—bringer of justice to Team Flare, savior of the people, and league champion in his mid-way assessment." Winking, she looked from the camera, to Ash, where she flattened the wrinkles in her skirt, and started talking again. Ash immediately felt the heat of the spotlights. He was burning up, with no relief from the weather. He was used to crowds, but typically he was battling pokemon, not looking at their tiny, dark faces.
"Over the last couple of months, you've had a few great changes in the league—non greater than the tournament you sponsored. I hear that it went over well? What are your thoughts on that."
Ash glanced hopefully to the teleprompter, but it only had free style written on it, and he would have smacked his head if his arm wasn't sticking to the leather arm rest. If he looked as uncomfortable as he felt, he couldn't wait for the media to eat him alive.
"They're talking about making another one soon. So, that's good, I guess?"
"Mhm," She brushed off his answer, Ash gulped.
"So the last time we spoke, you mentioned that you felt trapped here, that you were unhappy with how the Kalos region was handling itself. Does that have anything to do with the incident last month where you competed in an underground tournament and caused general mayhem in the neighboring cities?"
Figures. Ash wanted to roll his eyes, but was impressed by his ability to restrain himself. Even after he tried to deny the claims, people were not oblivious. He couldn't deny the accusations like the teleprompter was encouraging him. He was wondering if Misty was watching this right now—to see what that little stunt did to his reputation. If she was upset that hers was ruined, she could be thankful that they botched his completely!
"You know, I already-" He refrained, found himself teetering. "I was told that I should lie about that incident, and most of you know that I tried to do just that but... you know—Apparently it didn't work."
The crowd chuckled, but Kathy didn't seem impressed that he dodged her question via the teleprompter.
"Then if you don't mind me asking, what is your opinion on underground tournaments?"
Ash shrugged, finally looking at her.
"They don't bug me, and they don't really cause any real problems for the league."
Kathleen pursed her lips, looking at her notes—the first answer she wasn't prepared for, but Ash had a feeling she was more interested with a raw, exciting interview than anything prearranged.
"So, was your attendance an act of rebellion against the Kalos league?"
"No. Honestly, I was just having fun. I hadn't battled in a few months and I was going a little stir crazy..." Ash scoffed as he tried to think of a good way to describe the situation, without adding Misty's encouragement into the mix. "I came here to battle and become a better trainer...not to sit on my hands and treat other trainers like I'm better than them—because I'm not."
A chuckle floated around the room, even Kathy laughed. "I suppose not, but your track record says otherwise. You have quite a few victories under your belt."
"Yeah, and only one successful championship—there are a ton of other trainers way more powerful than me, including the Kalos Region's Elite Four members."
Genuinely intrigued, she sat back, crossing one leg over the other and smiling as she said: "So you have no remorse for breaking the rules so long as there's room for improvement?"
Ash had to think—when she put it that way, he could make himself sound worse than he was... but when the thought that entering an unqualified tournament was against the rules and punishable by law for all who participated crossed his mind. He scoffed, again.
"...No, I guess not. I don't see what the big deal is."
The crowd mumbled under their breath, and Ash nestled into his chair. Beside them, his manager was chewing his lip, probably praying that Ash had something up his sleeve—some moral compass he hadn't thought of.
"Aren't you worried about what the media is going to say about that? Especially fellow league officials?"
"Not really—I mean, what's the worst they could do? They can't technically fire me, and reporters have already seen who I really am now—so... If someone has a problem, maybe the league should re-evaluate how they choose political figures?"
As a second thought, Ash raised his finger thoughtfully and added: "And if my track record is public, it only takes like three sentences into any search engine to see most of my questionable past. I mean, I once destroyed an entire theme-park that displayed giant pokemon with two of my best friends at the time. Putting on an ill-fitting dress and participating in an 'illegal' tournament is one of the more tame mistakes that I've made." He gestured with his fingers 'illegal' while Kathleen raised her eyebrows, and smirked, finally intrigued.
"You really have a very colorful past—is that why you feel trapped as a league champion?"
"No."
Surprised by his own abruptness, Ash sat back, he felt like he was on fire—but blindly ignored the teleprompter's insistence to shut his mouth.
"I feel trapped because it's holding me back, not because it's preventing me from behaving like a child. I'm not scared of settling down, I'm scared of giving up. Losing my dream."
Ash waited for his words to sink in before continuing. Apparently, as she wet her lips, Kathleen did not imagine this interview going this way, since Ash was so even-tempered and shy during his last visit.
"It's not the league's fault, they're only doing what they're supposed to do—hold meetings, attend parties, participate in press conferences, prepare social events and tournaments, test the new trainers—you know, contain the masses, provide services for trainers around the world so that the reputation of the Kalos' prestigious league is withheld."
"Really, once you win as league champion, you become a celebrity over night—it's not much more than a popularity contest, but when you win, they expect you to know how to behave like a politician or professional without ever having been one before. I can honestly say that I'm not ready to mentor, I'm still learning." Ash inhaled, trying to get his thoughts together.
Pikachu finally took comfort on his knee, Ash fixed his hat, even when his executive manager urged for the cameras to be shut off. However, with a twitch of her finger Kathleen kept the cameras rolling, intent on getting the full story this time.
"I'm an idiot..." He exclaimed proudly, a wide smile on his face. "...for ever thinking that I could stay in a stuffy little city, around a bunch of people several years older than me, pretending to understand anything about the events I've been dragged to. In time, I could probably learn the ropes, figure out the political agenda, behave according to their standards but I mean... this isn't me." He gestured to himself.
"I beat Alain in a rematch wearing jeans and a ball-cap. I came here to win—but I honestly don't care about the illegal tournaments, or restrictions, or deciding who is and isn't worthy of participating in the Kalos league. I'm also not ashamed to admit that I joined an unsupported or illegal, or whatever you want to call it, tournament. They're not even illegal in most other regions—just here, because we're fancier."
Kathleen's mouth opened, then closed, she looked at Ash's boss, who was throwing a massive tantrum, and Ash leaned forward. He needed to get all of this off his chest.
"But you want to know what's the worst part? A steady paycheck isn't worth the stress; at least, it isn't for me. Working every weekend so that the actual members of the league can have a day off, playing dodge the paparazzi at every corner and hiding in your hotel, waiting for a phone call so you don't miss any events..." As he trailed off, he felt uncomfortable in his skin, sickly and nervous. Never had he been so stressed in his life—he never wanted to. This wasn't a life for him. He shuddered at the next few thoughts. He felt the air squeezed right out of him.
"And while you're trying really hard to juggle all of these things because you've never had to before, they expect greatness right away but you're not very good at them... So you forget what's important so you can prioritize what they tell you is important... so you stop doing the things you love, like battling, and traveling. Your girlfriend breaks up with you, and you act out to get away, and instead of caring—the league punishes and ridicules you publicly-"
The lights shut down, and the man Ash had accidentally painted as a tyrant barreled out of the back room.
"You get off that stage right now!" Only now that he had been snapped out of his sputter, did Ash feel mildly insane.
What in the heck did he just do? He looked over his shoulder to the man barreling at him with full speed, spouting angry words. The heat must have melted his brain.
"Do not air that!" He screamed at Kathleen, who was still struggling to understand all of the news that had been thrown at her. She was grinning, this was the best interview ever! Everyone loved drama!
"And you!" he addressed Ash with an angry finger. "Get out of my sight! I don't want to see you in the Kalos region again—you'll be paid out the rest of your royalties, but you are banned for insubordination."
Immediately, all of the anger boiling up inside of him erupted, and he was out of his seat and glaring. He might have screamed back, but Ash wasn't given a chance.
"I should have known that some farm boy couldn't withhold our values! You're a great battler, but with your immaturity, you'll never succeed as a champion!"
Ash reeled backwards, holding pikachu tight to prevent the mouse from clawing out the man's eyes, or thunderbolting him. In fact, most of the people in the audience who witnessed the ordeal stood on their feet, and started cheering for Ash.
"Your job was more than just some figure head, you had responsibility—and you couldn't accept it."
"Yeah, well. Maybe you should consider training people instead of just throwing them blindly into the wild." Ash was seething. "As some farm boy from Pallet—I quit!"
And with that, he turned, and walked away.
"Don't you walk away from me!"
"You just told me to leave!" Ash shouted back, running before his legs stopped carrying him, before he talked himself out of his decision.
XOX
Well, it was aired—some of it, anyways, at least not accurately. Reports were flying around like wildfire, but as quickly as they were reported, they were stomped out by the league. The only thing that had made it to the surface was Ash's face as he stormed out of the building, and took off on charizard's back. The reason why he fled the scene so quickly was still a great area of dispute—people in the audience were urged to bite their tongues by administrators, but Ash was happy to see how much his outburst had circulated—from a vent, to an actual debate. Even if they couldn't talk about the event in question—namely, Ash's very public meltdown—the urgency of overworking their league employees was a hot topic; from allowing winners of a pokemon battle authority, to how fickle fame was, debates sparked over the nation.
Ash's phone had started ringing non-stop.
First from the same man that had asked him to leave, then from the assistant, and finally from the Elite Four members—a few hours had passed before he received any remarks from his friends; the first and only being from Brock.
"So, what'd you break this time?" was the obscure text message that Brock left for him to see while Ash packed his bags and gathered his clothing from the hotel room.
Ash was surprised to find himself not immediately replying, his fall back the last few months after breaking up with Misty, and during the worst of his time as champion, was to sulk in his room, watching television and reading corny and terrible books. Right now, as he threw his clothes into tight knots, packed away his sleeping bag and stuffed rations into his pockets; he felt alive. The sky was the limit, and he was going anywhere and every where the very second his sneaker hit the floor.
Hell! He might even leave through the front doors instead of sneaking out like he had the last few months, after all, he wouldn't mind greeting his fan group for the first and last time.
"So pikachu, are you ready to get out of Lumiose City?"
"Pika!" The mouse chirped so happily, it took a weight off his shoulders the size of the world.
"Great, let's go see the ocean—you know, I bet we could get to Unova in a day or two with charizard—oh, maybe even Sinnoh! We could go compete in some of those underground tournaments again!"
"Pikachu pi!" the mouse squeaked pumping up his small arms as Ash barged through the door, made a hasty exit and let the fresh air fill his lungs.
It only took reaching rock bottom, losing out on his friends, his adventures, his journey—his dreams and his girlfriend—but he felt like himself again. Full of vim and vigor, and like the world had something to truly fear from Ash Ketchum.
Author's Note:
Ash's 'boss' is never named, for a number of reasons. Giving a face to the person Ash views as a monster gives leniency and background story. Never naming Ash's boss gives the impression that Ash both doesn't really care and that they view him as another pawn in the passing.
In the mean time, Ash finally broke away? I felt like it was very important to showcase the idea that Ash is not, and would not be ready to settle down at 18. So often he's already found his dream, or stops at champion and sits there—or magically has a cure for becoming a pokemon master...but...how about just restarting? What if the beginning was just as important as the end? The journey was more important than the goal.
I also think it's important to touch on the basics here: Ash knew that he could have done better, knows that Misty could have done better. He's not ungrateful for his time spent at the league, he learned a lot—but that doesn't mean he wants to stay, either, and it's not fair for them to put so much on him. Not to mention, Ash realizes that even though they aren't technically doing anyhting wrong, nothing different than any other league champion—Ash isn't ready for it. Ash isn't prepared for the responsibility that it required to be the head of anything. After all, he's still learning, and can't stop now.
ENJOY
NINT
2018-06-17: Starting on this day, I've gone back to edit and change some of the previous chapters to fit more with the 2018 revisions created by the loss of my previous saved versions of the story. I won't be changing too much, but if a new reader picks it up, this story, in particular, won't be so broken up.
