Chapter 2: Prince of Tides

The noon tide was coming in. The grassy knoll where Ash sat wasn't far from the sea, and he watched as summer sunlight danced across the ripples. He loved the sea. It was beautiful and mysterious, and best of all, unpredictable. The sea was untamed, and none could control it. It was its own master, free to do as it pleased. Ash watched until the scene became too dazzling to look upon, then closed his eyes and let the warmth of a gentle breeze lull him to sleep. If there were ever a perfect day for a nap, it was surely today. But his rest was cut short. Just as he was drifting off, a voice from over the hill jarred him awake. Ash opened one eye and watched as Misty approached.

"Ash, there you are!" She said when she saw him. "I've looked all over for you."

He closed his eye again as she sat down next to him.

"Sorry." He said. "But how was I supposed to know? After all, it's not like you to skip school, Misty."

"I'm not skipping, you idiot!" Misty retaliated, obviously annoyed. "You are! School's already over for today! You missed a lot, you know."

"Not this again." Ash thought.

He already knew what was coming next, and he didn't want to hear it. He hated this argument. But Misty would continue whether he objected or not, so he decided that he might as well defend himself.

"I don't care." He said. "It's just a lot of boring stuff about things that happened a long time ago. Why should all that matter to me?"

This was his usual response, the one he gave no matter how many times it failed. He waited for Misty to counter.

"'All that 'boring stuff' is supposed to help you become a good king someday."

Ah, there it was, just as he had anticipated.

"You sound like Mordecai." Ash said, sitting up. "He always says that, but he never explains what it means. How exactly is that stuff supposed to help me?"

"You have to ask? You really are slow."

He rolled his eyes in reply.

"Just answer the question."

"It's supposed to help you learn things like military strategy, so that you can defend your country, and rule it wisely."

"A king doesn't have to worry about that stuff, his generals take care of it for him." Ash explained.

Why would no one admit this?

"A king is supposed to guide his generals, Ash, not the other way around!" Misty said forcefully. "And who do you think selects them in the first place?! How will you judge which of your men are fit to lead if you can't even lead yourself?! And there's more to Mordecai's lessons that just that!"

Ash could see that Misty was quickly becoming frustrated, so he conceded. He disliked losing an argument, but he liked her temper even less.

"Fine," he said as he lay back down, "why don't you tell me what we studied today. It's much more interesting when you tell it anyway."

"Don't think flattery is going to get you out of trouble, Ash." Misty said curtly. "But I'll review for you as best I can, for your own good. Let's see, we studied another creation myth. This one was about how the shore was formed. Where the shore is now, there used to be a great chasm, until . . . "

Ash's mind drifted as she droned. Being a prince was awfully boring, especially considering how wonderful it sounded. He thought back to when he was small, when he had first understood what Anna meant when she told him that he was going to be king. Then, he had known nothing about princely obligations, and it had seemed an exciting future. He would rule with power and make life-altering decisions. He would be known and loved by all his subjects, and have servants to carry out his every whim. His would be a country of strength and wealth. These were the dreams he built with childish hopes. Ash had looked up in awe at the king sitting upon the high throne, a figure of absolute authority and respect. He was so brilliant that even his own golden crown couldn't outshine him. Ash had greatly admired him, and tried to imagine the day when he himself would become a glorious king. And then a thing happened that put a crack in his naive ideals.

The king, whom he had thought so great and just, in a fit of rage hurt someone much weaker than himself. Ash was horrified that his beloved father would do such a thing. It was almost inconceivable to his young mind. He could barely think for shock. But then he did something he had never imagined he could- he defied his father. He had sprung from his seat before he even knew what was happening, too angry to be afraid. And it was so easy. His great father had bent to the will of a child. For the first time, he was made to see him as the human he was, rather than the godlike being he had seemed before. Ash slowly lost fear of him. The respect he had held for him as a child was replaced with disdain. Time and experience were the only things that could truly erode his childish beliefs, the incident was what made Ash begin to question them. Afterward, he began noticing faults in his father that he had never seen before. He was a cold man, and his spirit held no compassion. There was little he seemed to care for. Ash never saw him, unless he was summoned to court, or was being assessed in his school work. And though these hours were few, he always dreaded them. It seemed to him that he was nothing more than a trophy to his father, an actor to perform. Ash buckled under the weight of his judgement. No matter how hard he studied or practiced, he would always blunder. Then his father would shake his head in disappointment, making him feel stupid and inept. But Ashton would accept nothing less than perfection. His son's failure was his shame, and he was a proud man. Image was everything. He tolerated no insult, no matter how trivial. He was stern and austere, never smiling. His very presence exuded severity, and the lines traced in his forehead shew his harsh nature. These were the things that Ash hated most about his father.

But though he could not respect the man himself, he did respect him as a leader. Ashton had the loyalty and love of his people. They feared him, and none dared disobey his will. He worked tirelessly to ensure that his kingdom was safe, that its citizens had food and shelter. ll of Kanto prospered under his rule. Ash now recognized this for the great accomplishment it was. The more he learnt about his future duties, the more he realized that being king was no easy task. It took great skill to lead. Subjects were not slaves, and they would turn on a ruler if he weren't judicious. Though Ash was not eager to admit it, Misty spoke truthfully- he needed much more studying if he ever hoped to be as good a king as his father.

But was this really what he wanted? Ash was beginning to have his doubts. He still looked forward to the fame and fortune of leadership, but he had long since realized that they came with a price. There was much work to be done, very tedious work. He was tired of endless lessons and silly ceremonies. It might have been bearable if there were any purpose in it, but it was meaningless to Ash. He felt no calling to lead and found no fulfillment in his work. There were things much more important to him. His dreams lay not in politics and geography, but in foreign lands and new discoveries. Dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms often visited the palace, and they brought with them many strange and wonderful things: perfumes and silks from Johto, exotic flowers from Hoenn, and brilliant jewels from Orre. Ash treasured these things and dreamt of the exotic lands whence they had come. He wanted to travel, to see the world beyond the castle gates. The horizon was inviting. Sometimes he tried to imagine what it would be like to leave everything behind and answer its call. He could stow away on a ship, become a traveler, start a new life. It was an alluring idea. But of course, it was only a dream. He could never do such a thing. It was impossible for one who would one day become king. Ash knew that it was best to forget such silly fancies before they took hold of his heart. It was useless to long for things he could never have. Much more than useless, the longing could consume him with misery, as it had many before him. Yet even with this knowledge, the thoughts continued to tantalize him. Ash had of course tried to put them out of mind, but to no avail. His daydreams always returned, stronger and more vivid than before. He only hoped that they would fade as he grew older. Yes, when he became king, he would have much more important business to attend to. He would have no time for such foolishness, and would be forced to forget his childish imaginings. But . . . a part of Ash did not want to forget. This part of him told that him these daydreams were important, not just the wanderings of an idle mind. It told him to listen to the persistent voice inside of him. But as he was thinking on this, he noticed the sudden absence of another persistent voice.

"Huh?" He said, still in somewhat of a daze.

"Ash, you haven't been listening at all!" Misty raged. "Have you even heard one word I've said?"

"Um . . . shore! There was definitely something about a shore!"

Ash was rewarded for this reply with a sharp slap to the face.

"Ow, you don't have to hit me!" He complained while rubbing his tender cheek.

He had regained his sitting position.

"I wouldn't have to if you would only pay attention!"

"But it's so boring!" His voice came out thin and whiny.

"Oh really? But I thought you said that it was so interesting when I told it."

"No, I said it was more interesting. That's not saying a lot."

Ash expected Misty to argue her point further, but she did not. Instead, she jerked her face away from him and stood to leave. He quickly moved to follow her.

"Hey, where are you going?" He called to her back.

"Home. I have better things to do than waste my breath telling stories that no one listens to."

"Aw, come on, Misty. I'm sorry, all right? Why are you so mad? It's not your problem if I fail my lessons."

At this, Misty stopped and turned. Ash thought he saw a trace of sadness mixed with the anger in her eyes.

"Don't you even care?!" She yelled. She stomped toward him in until their faces were mere inches apart. Behind her, the placid sea was becoming rough and foamy.

"I don't even know what people I belong to!" She cried. "I would give anything to know who they are, where I come from! Yet you, you have the privilege of knowing your history in detail, and you waste it! Don't you know how important it is?!"

Ash stood with his mouth agape, stupefied. He suddenly felt very guilty.

"Misty . . . I'm sorry. Tell it again, I promise I'll listen this time."

But Misty was already walking away.

"Just forget it, Ash."

"Please." He begged.

"No. I don't want to tell it if you don't want to listen. It's meaningless."

Ash was irritated Misty's insistence upon anger. She could be so stubborn.

"Hey, I said I'm sorry, but I can't take it back! And how am I supposed to make myself care when I don't?!"

Misty sighed, stopping. The sea slowly quieted with her.

"I suppose you're right." She said. "I take it too seriously. I suppose you only care about something when you can't have it yourself. Silly, right?"

She laughed, but sadly. Ash saw through her careless act. Now, he wished that she had stayed angry.

"No, it's not silly." He said. "It is important. I just . . . take it for granted. Tell it again. I want to hear it, I do."

Misty laughed again, this time sincerely.

"Oh, all right. If you're really going to listen."

Ash laughed with her. Misty was such a strange girl. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen. Most of the people he knew had dark hair and eyes, but Misty's hair was brilliant red, her eyes a watery blue. And her appearance was the most ordinary thing about her. Misty was so temperamental; her mood seemed to change with the sea. She could go from good-tempered to angry in mere seconds. Ash was constantly bickering with her. There were times when he wondered why he even considered her his friend. No one was so rude to him as Misty. Few dared to even correct him. Even Anna, the only mother he had ever known, refused to admit his faults. But Misty certainly had no qualms about being honest. And in some ways, Ash appreciated it. Misty was not one for empty praises. Her compliments were rare and precious, and Ash valued every one. There was no pretending with her. Misty was simply herself, regardless of what others thought. Likewise, Ash did not need to be someone else for her. She accepted him just as he was. When he was with her, he was no longer Prince Ashton, but just . . . Ash.

"Hey, Ash!" Misty snapped. "Are you still listening?"

"Yes, of course."

Ash scolded himself for having ignored her again. He hadn't meant to break his promise. But Misty seemed not to notice. He had at least kept his eyes on her, if not his attention. She continued, and this time, he focused on her story.

"A great battle was waged over who would claim the void, sea or land, and many people died. The gods knew that something must be done to end the fighting. Caelus, the god of the sky, decided that the land must be shared. But no one could think of how this could be done. inally, Pelagia, the god of the sea, came up with the idea that he and Maia, goddess of the earth, should join together. Maia was Caelus' wife, but Caelus understood that he must make a sacrifice to save the earth. So it was done, and Maia later gave birth to the shore."

"Wait, how can anyone give birth to a mass of land?" Ash asked.

These stories always confused him.

"It's a legend, Ash. Things like that happen in legends."

"But it's dumb!"

"It is not! It's beautiful!"

"But it doesn't make any sense!"

"Maybe not to you."

"You're crazy if you thik that story made any sense at all."

"What?!" Misty yelled. "Say that again, I dare you!"

"Perfect, now she's mad again." Ash thought, but he wouldn't quit an argument once begun. And he had to admit, it was fun to goad her.

"You didn't hear me? Well, I guess I'll have to say it slowly so you'll understand. You're-crazy."

"Hm." Misty huffed, straitening up. "I shouldn't have expected a clout like you to understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"You'll have to figure that out for yourself. I'm crazy, remember?"

"Oh, come on!" Ash retorted. "You know I wasn't serious!"

"Idiot. You shouldn't say something you don't mean."

"Do you mean everything you say?"

Misty smirked haughtily and stuck her nose in the air.

"Of course!" She said.

Ash gave an exaggerated sigh, but he laughed inwardly. Misty's attitude, though irritating, could be endearing. But of course, he would never tell her so.

"That's not really fair, Misty, you can't hold His Highness to your standard."

Ash jumped at the sound of a hearty chuckle.

"True, true." Misty replied, obviously not startled as Ash had been. "But what are you doing here, Daniel?"

He turned to find Daniel, the new grounds-keeper, looking down at the two of them. Daniel was already tall, but from where he stood on the crest of the hill, he seemed a giant. His body was tan and muscle-bound from days spent working in the sun, and the wind blew rust-colored hair in his face. Fortunately, his demeanor was not nearly as intimidating as his appearance.

"Only taking a break." He said. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything."

"Of course not!" Misty chirped. "I was just surprised that you were able to find your way. You are new here."

Daniel chortled loudly again.

"Oh, that was easy. All I had to do was follow the sound of incessant arguing."

Misty blushed, seeming embarrassed at having been caught engaging in such unladylike behavior.

"Er, so, are you getting used to life here?" She asked, trying to change the topic.

Daniel sat on the grass and crossed his legs before speaking.

"Yes, I think I'm adjusting, but it's not been easy. Life here is a lot different than in my homeland."

Ash sat up straighter, his interest sparked by the mention of a far-off land.

"What was your home like, Daniel?" He asked excitedly.

"Ash!" Misty exclaimed. "Daniel might not want to be reminded of home right now!"

"I don't mind." Said Daniel. "I truly loved my home, and it makes me happy that someone is interested in it. Let's see, where should I begin? Oh yes, I suppose I ought to tell you where I lived. My village lay on the largest of the South Sea Islands, very far from here. It was much warmer there. Most of the people were fishermen or shipbuilders, and we traded with the mainland for other supplies. Our homes were simple- our lives were simple, but we were happy. You should've seen the marketplace on Saturdays, loud, busy, exciting." Daniel paused and sighed nostalgically, a distant gleam in his eyes.

But, as when a cloud passes in front of the sun on a summer's day, his expression suddenly darkened. Ash sensed that the story, like the teller, was about to become grave. But Daniel did not continue. It was as though he were remembering something too painful to tell. Ash saw this and hesitated for a moment, but finally curiosity overcame modesty.

"What happened?" He asked cautiously.

Daniel was still silent, and at first, Ash thought that he had not heard him. He was about to ask again, when abruptly, Daniel began.

"We were . . . discovered, by a Kantonese campaign. Our tribal elder knew that he couldn't stand against the Kantonese army, so he ceded our land to His Highness."

"Daniel . . . I'm so sorry . . ." Ash said somberly.

His own country's selfishness sickened him.

"You need needn't be. It wasn't your doing."

He knew this, and yet . . .

"But aren't you angry?"

Daniel paused a moment.

"Yes, sometimes." He said. "I try to forgive, but it isn't easy. Kings and generals only care about land. It's a game to them. They don't consider the people involved. And we were lucky. Those tribes who resisted were all but destroyed."

"Things'll be different when I'm king." Ash proclaimed. "I'll make sure there isn't any war."

He was somewhat offended when Daniel laughed.

"I'm serious!"

"I don't doubt it," Daniel said, trying to suppress a final chuckle, "but it's not that simple. War can't be completely avoided."

"Why not?"

"There will always be conflict. You must choose your battles carefully, but sometimes war is necessary."

"No it's not! I don't believe that!" Ash insisted.

Daniel did not get angry as he would have expected, but sighed and smiled kindly.

"You're so young, Your Highness," He said. "I suppose I shouldn't ask you to understand. But when you have something that you want to protect, you will."

Ash crossed his arms and furrowed his brows defiantly. Daniel was wrong. Just because there had never been peace before didn't mean it was impossible. Surely there was some way, and he would find it, no matter how elusive it proved.

"Well, I had best get back to work." Daniel said, interrupting Ash's thoughts. "His Majesty wouldn't be pleased to find a sluggard amongst his workers."

"That's all right, Daniel," said Misty, "it's time for Ash's swordplay lessons anyway. Isn't it, Ash?"

Ash groaned a protest, and she laughed.

"It's not that bad." She said.

"Easy for you to say," Ash said as he stood, brushing the grass from his blue tunic, "all you have to do is watch."

"Lucky for me, huh?"

"You have no idea."

Swordplay was most definitely not his favorite activity. It was, like so many other things, silly and pointless, and painful besides, and he wasn't exceedingly gifted in the art. But his instructor demanded perfection. In his day, Sir William of Viridian had been the fiercest, most dedicated knight in service to the king, and he expected the same determination from his students. This was unfortunate for Ash, who, needless to say, couldn't have cared less about his lessons. But Sir William seemed to think that, by yelling, he could make him care, so Ash was constantly being bombarded with criticisms.

"You're late!" He barked upon Ash's arrival.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Ash quickly replied.

He hoped there was enough confidence in his voice to conceal his nervousness. Inwardly, though he was loathe to admit it, he shrank at his teacher's reprimand. Ash scolded himself for a coward.

"I'm going to be king," he thought, "I can't let my own sword instructor scare me."

But he couldn't help feeling small. For though Sir William's hair was white with age, he was tall and muscular, his posture strait and his manner intimidating. Ash pitied the men who had fallen before him on the battlefield.

"Ashton!" Sir William yelled, startling Ash. "Stop dreaming and pay attention! Take your sword and start practicing your slash with Philip!"

Misty giggled from her place on the stone floor. Ash glared at her, and she offered a muffled "Good luck," through her hands. She was bad at hiding her laughter, but he chose to ignore her for now. He took his sword from Sir William and faced Philip.

Philip was older and taller than Ash, and stronger as well. His expression, if it could be called that, was stoic, and his brown hair trim and neat.

"Take your positions!" Commanded Sir William.

Ash raised his sword in front of him so that it crossed Philip's at an angle. Their muscles tensed as they awaited the signal.

"Begin!"

In an instant, the silence was broken by the click-clacking of wood against wood. Ash slashed at Philip but missed and sliced air, and Philip came back with a more successful cut that clapped against Ash's sword. Now Ash was pushing Philip back, and now Philip Ash. Back and forth they went, the clatter echoing through the vacuous stone corridor all the while. Ash parried blow with blow, and smiled as he realized that he was keeping up with Philip. In another moment, he had the upper hand. He was doing unusually well today, and he was quite pleased with himself. Perhaps he could even win! But before he could even complete the thought, Philip's sword hit its mark, and came down upon Ash's head with a sickening crack.

Ash regained consciousness to find himself lying on the flat on the floor. His senses were slowly coming back to him, and he could feel cold stone against his skin. He groaned as the pain in his head returned as well. In another second, the black spots before his eyes began to dissipate, and he saw Misty and Sir William staring down at him.

"Are you all right, Ash?" Misty asked while helping him to sit up.

"I think so." He answered, rubbing his head.

Ash caught sight of Philip standing on the opposite side of the room, watching with his usual blank face.

"Apologize to Ashton!" Sir William ordered.

But Philip acted as though he had not heard.

"It's all right, really." Ash said, forcing a laugh.

He didn't really think it was all right, but he didn't want to aggravate an already tense situation.

"And you," Sir William turned to him now, "you were careless. You could have easily dodged! Never let your guard down like that!"

"Yes sir."

Ash knew well whose side his instructor had taken. Sir William had chided Philip, but it was a half-hearted reproach. He was the sort of person who didn't believe in fair play.

"Swordplay is not a game," he was often heard to say, "there are no rules. All that matters is winning, and you must take every opportunity given you."

Ash knew that this was true, however cruel it was. In battle, the winner was the one who survived. Believing in things like fairness would only lead to an early grave.

"But we're not going into battle." Ash argued to himself. "It's all ceremony."

He had already decided that he would eliminate war in Kanto. And even in wartime, the king never saw the battlefield. Swordplay was only taught for the sake of tradition, and Ash found it a waste of time. His heart simply wasn't in it. Not like Philip.

Philip was the very opposite of Ash, and took his sword lessons quite seriously. Too seriously. Ash was covered in bruises from their practice matches. He was not a little grateful that they used only wooden swords, for he was sure that Philip would have no second thoughts about cutting him to bits. In fact, he thought that Philip might actually enjoy killing him. For reasons unknown to Ash, Philip seemed to hate him. He had always been hostile, from the very moment they met in Mordecai's classroom so long ago. Ash wondered why. He'd never done anything to Philip. At least, not that he could remember. He thought about this as Anna tended his injury, trying to recall anything from the past that might have angered Philip. But there was nothing, Philip's anger was completely unreasonable. Ash couldn't stand him. He was sick of being humiliated. Just once, he wanted to beat Philip and wipe that superior look off his face. The fact that it was impossible infuriated him even more. But Philip was bigger, stronger, and a better fighter. Ash knew he could never beat him. And he had to admit, he was a little afraid of him. This too, added to his anger.

"Ow!" He cried, his thoughts suddenly interrupted

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ashton," Anna fussed, "But we have to take care of it or it'll get worse."

"I know, but it still hurts."

Ash was glad that Misty was currently at the library. It was embarrassing when Anna fussed over him like this in front of her.

"I would beat that Philip good if I had the chance!" She was ranting. "He's horrible, him and that mother of his!"

"It's all right, Anna," Ash said, weary of her overprotectiveness, "I'm not really angry."

"Well I am! And you should be. He has no right to treat you like that. It's cruel, and it's disloyal! You're his own country's prince! And his brother besides!"

The word sounded so out of place that it took a moment to enter his consciousness. When it did, it hit him with the same force as Philip's sword.

"Brother?!" He exclaimed.

"Yes . . . has no one told you?"

"No!"

"Oh, Ashton, I'm so sorry. I was sure you knew. Philip-"

"But I don't understand . . . how is that possible?!"

"Settle down, settle down." Anna shushed. "Give me a moment to explain."

Ash squirmed in his seat, waiting as patiently as he could. His mind was moving so fast he couldn't keep up. The news had come as quite a shock, and he was bursting with questions.

"Philip is your half-brother, Ashton." Anna began. "Or so his mother claims. I don't believe it. After all, how could that brat be related-"

"But if Philip's my brother . . . why doesn't he live with us? Why don't I ever see him with my father?"

"Philip . . . has always been hostile toward you, Ashton. It's his decision to keep his distance."

Even the answer brought new questions.

"But why? Why does he hate me so much?"

"Probably because he thinks you stole his birthright from him." Anna answered patiently. "Had you not been born, he would have been your father's heir."

"But . . . why isn't Philip heir? He's older than me, isn't he?"

"Philip is your father's illegitimate son, Ash. His mother is a courtesan, but you are the child of the queen. It is only right that you succeed your father."

Ash took a moment to let this set in.

"That's why he hates me?" he asked breathlessly. "But that's so stupid!"

"I know, Ashton."

"He can have it if he wants it that bad!"

"Ashton! You must never say things like that!" Anna yelled, snapping Ash from his fervor. "It is your birthright and you should be proud!"

A sigh was the only answer he gave. Anna's unflagging loyalty was somehow vexing. It was patronizing and embarrassing, and . . . There was something else too, but Ash couldn't quite say what.

But he couldn't think about that now. He was still dazed from the unexpected information. It felt so unreal. He needed to get away from Anna, needed to think. So as soon as he could, Ash escaped her watchful gaze and slipped down to the shore. It was quiet here, serene. There were no distractions, and he could take his time sorting his thoughts. He sat on the boundary between shore and sea, where the receding tide still touched his bare feet. The hypnotic pulse of waves calmed him and cleared his head as he sifted through his feelings. But it was difficult to make sense of something so senseless. Ash didn't care about being king. The job was long, tiring work, and meant nothing to him. Philip was the better choice by far. He was devoted to his studies and yearned to rule. But ability and will, things that ought to have been most decisive, were given no weight at all. A king was foolishly selected by lineage alone. Ash was grieved by his brother's hatred. Philip's anger didn't seem so unreasonable anymore. It was still unfair, and Ash was still angry at him. But somehow, he also felt guilty that his own existence brought his brother so much unhappiness. He was surprised to find that he loved him in spite of everything. Ash would have gladly given him the crown if it would mend their kinship. But tradition forbade it. The solution was so simple, yet so frustratingly out of reach. Hot tears formed in Ash's eyes. What mad world was this, where brother was turned against brother? The bond that should have been unbreakable was destroyed by so frivolous a thing. Ash was growing to hate the destiny given him more with each passing day. In this moment, he decided once and for all that did not want to be king.

"Ash!" Misty called.

He turned from his thoughts to face her as she walked down the beach, her red hair blowing behind her in an evening breeze.

"I thought I might find you here." She said as she sat beside him.

"Oh, hi." Ash answered lackadaisically.

He wondered how long he had been sitting there. It felt like a few minutes, but it was probably several hours, he realized from the position of the sun.

"Are you all right? You don't look well."

Ash did not answer. Silently, he was deliberating whether to tell her. He didn't feel like talking to her or anyone else right now, especially about Philip. Still, she was bound to find out sooner or later. It was probably better to say it strait out and avoid the conversation that would surely lead to it.

"Ash? What is it?"

He quickly decided and said it all at once, before he could lose his nerve.

"Philip's my brother."

There was a moment of uneasy quiet.

"Oh." Misty whispered finally.

She did not seem surprised at all.

"You're not surprised?"

"I . . . already knew."

Ash felt a chill run down his spine at her words.

"What?! How?" He cried.

"Well, I didn't know," Misty confessed, "but I had guessed as much. You and Philip have the same face, and he's so hateful toward you . . . it just sort of . . . fell together."

"How long have you known?" He asked, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Misty glanced at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Ash. I thought you knew too."

Ash didn't know what to say. How had she known when he hadn't? Was it really that obvious? But the more he thought about it, the simpler it seemed. Misty was right, Philip's face was similar to his own. And his envy, so mysterious in the past, seemed painfully clear now.

"How could I have not seen it?" Ash agonized, covering his face with his hands. "My own brother . . ."

There was silence for a moment. Then Misty spoke.

"Ash, you shouldn't blame yourself for not knowing." she said quietly

"Sometimes . . . sometimes the closer you are to someone, the harder it is to see the truth."

Ash wondered how she could read his mind like that.

He expected Misty to say more, to ask questions or try to console him, but she just stared out to sea. Ash looked away from her, down to the waves swishing around his feet. The tears he had been holding back were silently rolling down his cheeks. They splashed into the sea, and more beside them. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into Misty's sympathetic face and smiled weakly. No one knew him better than Misty. She understood his sorrow without any words. It was times such as these that reminded him how glad he was of her friendship. The two sat in silence for a long time, until the sun was just a sliver of gold above the blue sea. They left only when it had grown too dark to see. But even as they departed, tranquil waves carried Ash's tears toward the horizon, tiny drops in a vast ocean.