Training Begins
Ash was asleep surprisingly quickly. It was barely 10 o'clock by the time Ash was dreaming. Well… I say dreaming;
Ash's dream sequence:
There was darkness all around. There was so little light one wouldn't even see the nose on the front of their face. Through the blackness, an ominous and constant buzzing emanated from an unknown source. Slowly, dim lights started to illuminate a small circle, about 6 or 7 feet in diameter. Within the circle of light, there was a large metal table, which looked very much like a torture table from some horrendous horror film. On the table was a man. He was strapped down to the table with iron restraints, and was fully unclothed – barring a white loincloth that draped loosely over his toned, muscular, form. In his arms, there were wires of red, blue, green and yellow, which seemed to twist and wind from an unknown origin, piercing into his skin.
The man's face was covered by jet black hair, with a silver flick in his fringe, stuck to his face with sweat. His breathing was laboured and heavy. A jolt of electrical current surged through all the wires leading into his skin, causing the man to convulse and scream in pain unimaginable. The shocks stopped, and the man relaxed, ever so cautiously, and gasped to catch his breath. He pulled at his restraints, and tried to turn himself loose. Another surge of electricity coursed through his muscles, making the man shriek once more in exquisite agony. He thrashed about on the table, shrieking and screaming in unbearable anguish. He tossed and twisted on the table, his skin starting to smoke. His eyes jerked open, blazing red, with fire flaring in his vision. He let out an inhuman roar, and started to rip at the metal that surrounded him.
End of dream sequence:
"DADDY!" Ash squealed, as he jerked awake from the horrific vision in his sleep. He was dripping with, freezing cold, sweat, that made his pyjamas stick to his skin. He panted, catching his breath back. The door swung open, and in dashed the Oaks. Gary clambered onto the bed, and glomped Ash in a comforting hug, offering him as much support as his could. Professor Oak sat on the edge of the bed, and picked the two boys up, plonking them down on his lap. He waited for Ash's breathing to steady, and then decided to ask what the matter was. The boy seemed troubled by something.
"Ash? What's the matter? What happened, my lad?"
"I saw… I saw daddy." Ash responded, shakily. "In a dream." He wiped his eyes, which had started to water. "He looked like he was hurting. He was on a metal table. And he had these wires in his body."
Professor Oak held the shaky child close, hushing and patting him, telling him that dreams don't mean anything, and they're not to be feared. Although, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that – actually – there was something slightly off about this dream of Ash's. Was it a warning, maybe? A prophecy? A premonition? Whatever the reason for the dream, it meant that Ash was bound to be in for one Hell of an adventure when he turns 10. The professor looked up at the clock. It wasn't stupidly early, so he thought this would be a good time to start the first day of Ash's preparation training.
"Well, it's half past 5, Ash. I would've woken you up in half an hour, so… shall we have breakfast and start your first day of training?"
"Yeah. OK, then, Professor." Ash replied, crawling out of Professor Oak's lap.
"Ash. It's OK for you to call me 'Grampy'. I'm, practically, adopting you." The professor smiled, and left the room, to start making breakfast.
Breakfast over, Professor Oak lead Ash and Gary into a room, which seemed to resemble a dojo training room. Ash and the professor were stood in the centre of the training arena, wearing martial art robes, and Gary was sat at the side, observing. The professor and Ash bowed to each other, as a sign of respect.
"Alright, Ash. You're first lesson is how to defend yourself. Those Team Rocket goons really did a number on you, that night." Urgh. Don't remind him. Ash still tasted the iron of his blood just thinking about it. The professor held up two pokéballs. He tossed them into the air, releasing two humanish shaped Pokémon. One looked like a human body without a head, and its eyes where a human's shoulders would be. And the other was slim, with a purple toga on, and boxing gloves on its hands. Ash was awestruck by the Pokémon. He'd seen them before, but only on TV. They were Hitmonchan and Hitmonlee, two of Ash's favourite fighting type Pokémon. The Pokémon bowed to Ash, as a sign of respect, which he returned. "OK, you two." Professor Oak addressed the martial art Pokémon. "Let's show our young apprentice here how we defend ourselves from attackers." The Pokémon nodded, and assumed battle stances.
Hitmonchan started to unleash a flurry of punches. His fists were so quick, his arms looked nearly invisible to the eye. But Professor Oak was too fast for the Boxing Pokémon, darting this way and that, avoiding every swing. After the 100th swing, he made his move. The old man grabbed Hitmonchan's arm, mid-swing, and jabbed his fingers into the Pokémon's side, just beneath the ribcage, winding the creature, and causing it to double over. Then, it was Hitmonlee's turn. The Kicking Pokémon started swinging his legs in fluid, sweeping movements. Again the professor dodged effortlessly, leaning left and right and left again. Finally, he grabbed Hitmonlee by the ankle, and flipped the Pokémon over his shoulder, sending it crashing to the floor. The two Pokémon lay on the floor, unconscious, as the professor stood proud, dusting his robes off.
Ash started to applaud the professor, who – very flattered – took a bow.
"Wow, Professor. That was amazing." The boy cooed.
"Why thank you, Ash." The man thanked. "But, like I said before, call me 'Grampy'." He winked.
"OK, then… Grampy." Ash replied, with a blush. That's something he's going to need to adjust to. Professor Oak returned his two Pokémon.
"Well done, you two, you did well. And you've both earned a good long rest." He congratulated them, as they disappeared into their pokéballs. He turned to the star struck child before him, and threw another pokéball. From inside popped out a Machop. "Now, Ash. You'll be training with Machop, here. Machop is a very good start to help you train. Although they are not as strong as Machoke and Machamp, its evolved forms, they're pretty strong little tykes, so be careful." Ash nodded, and the Machop assumed a battle position. "Let's teach you the basics, first, Ash." The professor offered, and snapped his fingers.
At lunchtime:
Ash was eating a toasted cheese sandwich with an icepack strapped across his right eye. His training buddy, Machop, was sat next to him, sporting a small bruise an inch below his ribcage. Ash may look like a scrawny little tyke, but he's not as easy to push around as one may think. Contrary to popular belief, Ash is a fast learner. He was able to intercept Machop's Low Kick attacks after just three attempts. Although the training session was just for sparring, Ash was going to get a black eye after that last punch to the face that went a tad wrong. It was meant to deflect a karate chop from the human boy, but his head jerked downwards, because he lost his footing, and he ended up headbutting Machop's fist. He surprised everyone, however, by the brave face he put on. He didn't cry, he didn't make a fuss… he didn't even say 'Ow'. Now, everyone was having a well-deserved lunch, and the professor was thinking up the next training session. Ash really was turning out to be a trooper. After losing one's mother like he did, and nearly dying of Ekans venom, one would expect him to be depressed and demotivated. But, everything he'd been through of late seemed to just be spurring him on to push on.
"I must say, young Ash, you did really well with your first day of training. Nearly six hours of training with Machop and the only injuries worth noting are your black eye, and a small gaze on your arm." Ash smiled up at his adoptive grandfather, feeling pretty proud of himself.
"Thanks, Grampy. I know that mummy would be happy to hear that." He smiled. The professor got up from the table, and went to collect the post from that morning. He never went through his letters in the mornings. Too busy. Especially today, with Ash's training. The letters were all the usual. Bill, bill, bill, Pokémon League report, bill, a postcard from Professor Elm… and a letter addressed to 'Ashton Ketchum-Oak'. Someone's written a letter to Ash? Hm. How odd. Better check the stamp, see where it's from. The stamp depicts a Dewgong leaping out of the ocean, silhouetted by a sunset. The stamp's from Cerulean City. Someone must've heard about him on the news, and sent this letter to wish him well.
"Ash. You've got a letter." Professor Oak informed him, as he re-entered the kitchen. Ash turned round, with a look of surprise and curiosity in his eyes.
"Really? A letter?" He took the letter from Professor Oak, and was excused to his bedroom to read it. Ash got to his room, and laid down on the bed, staring at the letter as if it were an alien species of Pokémon. Slowly, he started to open the seal. As he slipped the sheet of paper out, he folded it, and started to read.
So there's chapter 3. Ash is now officially Ashton Ketchum-Oak, and is starting his training under his adoptive Grampy. Who sent the letter, I wonder. Do any of you have any ideas who it may be from? Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Keep your eyes open for chapter 4 next week.