Author's Notes: Kinda bullshitted you in the last chap. Had this one ready to go for a while. Figure this one'll compensate for 15 being so short. Well the fic is two years old today, and this chapter is to celebrate it. Now either the fic will be finished by year three, or not finished at all. Guess which one's more likely...
Now how should I have Ash brutalized next...
Contest: Since we're not making much progress, I'll be generous and give a hint here.
One of you has hit the topic of the question. One of you has addressed the detail I am asking for.
Soundtrack:
Placebo: Running Up That Hill
Axel Rudi Pell: The Clown is Dead (the version From "Magic")
Sum 41: Pieces
Puscifer: The Humbling River
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Ages ago...
High above them the sky roared, a hundred thousand tears falling from the sky every second.
Ash hissed. "Dammit!" He finished tying up a bandage, looking down at the passable handiwork he'd done on his leg. It didn't look too bad, but he'd need to go slow for the next few days. He looked outside at the weather, the cave entrance he'd chosen to occupy for the night providing him shelter from the rain. Pikachu had fallen asleep a while ago, his quickly drying form wrapped up in Ash's jacket as nearby a fire burned.
Today was officially one of his worst ever. The rain had caused a river to overflow, making the pair take a scenic route to their destination. They'd have been better off swimming. First there was the high hills. Muddy hills whose markings were still upon Ash's clothes. Then came the land shift, part of the muddy hills had gave way under his weight and the rain water, sending him on a trip down, getting his ankle cut by something in the process. If that wasn't bad enough Ash had been carry their bag of food by hand, where that was now was a mystery. It'd taken them hours of wondering, but finally they'd found a little cave to settle in for the night, they'd take a swing at finding their way tomorrow, but the thought didn't do much for him. Maybe he should try finding some travel buddies again. They always kept crap like this from happening.
Ash leaned back against the cave wall, looking up into the rain as it fell. He was...alone. He thought back on those he'd travelled with. Dawn, May, Max, Tracey, Brock and...he smiled, Misty. Good times, good travels, good laughs. They'd all been some real interesting characters to travel with, each one bringing something special with them. Even the bad days were better with them around.
"But they all left in the end."
Now he was alone. He was lost, hungry, hurt, and sad. Where was Brock? He'd always have a backup supply of food ready. Where were May and Dawn? They at least brought some life into a conversation. He'd even take Max going on about some random Pokémon factoid. He sighed...where was Misty? Why wasn't she kicking his ass, telling him to "stop moping!", or at least talking to him? He missed talking to her...he sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his eyes. He'd even settle for a pointless argument with her, welcome it, actually.
Truth be told, he'd somewhat lost touch with her, actually. The last time he'd seen her in person was over...a year ago now. Not since his travelling days with May and Max. He didn't intend it, but he couldn't describe it. They still talked, and sometimes they really did go on like it was old times...but it was so rare now. It was like their distance, along with time was taking a toll on them.
The sky roared again, and he could almost hear it say 'liar!'.
Alright, that wasn't the whole truth. Yes, the distance wasn't easy, but it was tolerable. It was strange, he'd realized this a number of Months ago, back in Sinnoh, after a several-hour long call with her, and every conversation after had just made it more clear.
Talking to her now, it actually...hurt, and it had for a very long time. Ash didn't know why, surely it couldn't have been normal, so he'd opted to keep it to himself. Not even sharing it with Pikachu. The more he talked to her these days, the more he wished she were here, with him again. He'd always end up longing for the old days after talking to her, back when they paraded around the world together (Brock too of course, but he'd accepted by now he just missed her more. He'd never tell either this, though), working towards Ash's dream and whatever else they found to do on a given day. Walking with her, talking with her, even fighting with her. Waking up with her there every morning...
He sighed.
He slumped his head against the wall, thinking on better times, with her. "I miss her." She was his best friend, and it looked like they were slipping away. He'd wanted to ask her to come back travelling with him again, but she sounded fine at the gym from the way she talked about some of her battles, and she was really becoming a lot stronger, a much better trainer there ("I want a rematch someday, Ash!"). She was really good at being gym leader. Why take her away from a good thing? Besides, she had her bike back, what reason would there really be for her to travel with him?
What reason would there be for any other of his former companions? May was still perusing her rivalry with Drew, contests didn't really exist in Unova (save for the very rare event), so she and Dawn were out. Max hadn't even left home yet, and Brock had to stay at home, he needed to focus on his dream of being a Pokémon Doctor.
One by one, his friends had gone on to find other things, better things. He was the only one on the same path he'd started on, and it hadn't gotten any easier.
He eventually settled down to sleep, unease and despair creeping into his mind.
"Why do they always go?"
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The sky above was clear, and silent, the sun looking down upon the mountaintop as smoke billowed from one peak. Amidst all the smoke and rubble it would be easy to miss what lay near a second peak.
Slumped against the peak, with his head leaned back was Ash. He was silent, his eyes closed, his body...punished. The wound on the side of his face had opened once more, like the other various cuts lining his form and clothing. His latest acquisitions upon his head and back, the former leaking down around his right eye.
Pikachu stood in Ash's unconscious lap. He gently shook his best friend.
"Pikapi."
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On what was an uncommon, but not unusual occurrence, Brock had been left in charge of the gym today. Owing to Lola's newest passion (journalism), his father and most of his siblings had essentially been taken prisoner and made to help her practice. (with camera and all) Brock's quick thinking had landed him with both an excuse not to take part and charge of the gym.
He sat, in a very familiar position, in a very familiar location within the gym. He overlooked the battlefield before him, remembering so long ago...
Then he remembered something a little closer to now. Their last meeting had been one of the worst memories Brock had to pick from his entire life's repository. The fight itself, while horrible, was given its most potent sting in Ash's very last words. Never in a thousand years would Brock have expected words like that to leave Ash's mouth before then, yet they had. They were words he never wished to repeat. He had not so far, and had no intention of doing so...
"I never got mad at any of you when you left me to follow your dreams! So don't get mad at me for following mine!"
He'd always understood their meaning. Yet he had given no thought to their reason. He had never wondered why Ash would say something so...not him.
He'd never tried to understand why.
It would seem it was time.
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Ash didn't move, the only reaction being from his rustled clothing. Pikachu grasped and started to push harder.
"Pikapi."
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Misty looked out the window as the rain softly beat against it, falling from the darkened sky that loomed overhead. On days like this nobody ever came for a gym battle, and Misty had run out of excuses. She sat upon the sizeable window pane of the gym's battle arena/stage room. She was alone, so she would never have to answer for certain details...
Draped over her shoulders was Ash's jacket, his hat in her hands as she leaned against her raised knee. She softly sighed. She'd put this off long enough, and now it was time to think. After the camera crew showed up (her sisters honestly thought it was for them, their disappointment could have filled a river) and the last words escaped her mouth...she knew she'd spoken without thinking. That was foolish. She had to re-evaluate things, and fast because she'd been wrong about something.
Now here she was, thinking to the sound of the rain. With no more excuses to hide behind it was time to face it. She'd almost, almost had another excuse, but alas each of her (mostly) good-for-nothing sisters were busy with one thing or another she couldn't recall the precise details of. She'd had a call from Delia the previous evening, informing her Ash was in Johto, and would almost certainly be gone for a couple more days, and as strange as the necessary circumstances were, it would have been the ideal time for Misty to visit, which she had been invited to. Yet alas, her sisters. She was going to have a word with them about their responsibilities.
Well, she and her mallet.
This brought it all back to her current predicament, doing what she'd been putting off for a while, and she couldn't help but think about where Ash was going.
"Don't do something stupid, Ash."
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Pikachu continued shaking, yet all it seemed to be doing was shifting the path the flow coming from Ash would take.
"Pikapi, pikapi!"
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Delia paid no mind to the sounds of rain as she sat alone, a photo album in her hands. This was not a family album, not the entire family anyway. This was an album focused on Ash, and the photographs taken on his journeys around the world. Brock had been the one to send all these pictures to her. During his brief stay at the Ketchum household she'd mentioned in passing that it was a shame Ash didn't take pictures of his journeys. Brock had left the room in a hurry, quickly returning with a camera he kept with him. It had contained so many photos, mostly of Ash's tour of Kanto, yet some from his trip around the Orange Islands were there too.
She hadn't asked him to, but Brock did make it a point to send her photographs of Ash's adventures for as long as he travelled with him after that. Brock seemed to have a knack for capturing interesting moments on camera, and through four years of Ash's life her son had quite a collection of them in this album. Kanto, Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh, all of them almost perfectly documented. (Brock had returned home now and then) It told quite a collection of short stories, little episodes of her son's life.
There was nothing of Ash's travels through Unova in here...and maybe that was for the best. She couldn't imagine how it was for him, and she doubted he wanted to think about it more than needed. A two year long dark spot in his life, one that hopefully, time could bury, and new good memories could be added to this album, but in their way, they wouldn't be quite as interesting as the photographs here.
Ash didn't have much of a reason to travel anymore.
Delia flipped to the Kanto part of the album, and smiled warmly at the picture of Ash and Misty in Kimonos. Such an adorable sight, and a very obvious sign of feelings which would grow in time. Delia had never asked when Misty realized she was interested in Ash, but she had wondered. Delia didn't doubt if she hadn't been forced to leave, Misty would have been there until the very end.
Ash still wouldn't have figured it out. His obliviousness to love, it was almost cute once, but now it was detrimental. She knew she couldn't interfere, this was something he had to do alone but...she sighed. She turned a few pages, accidentally landing in the Hoenn part of the album. She leaned back in her chair, memories of old thoughts creeping from the back of her mind.
When Brock and Misty had left, she had wondered briefly if Ash would consider stopping, or at least delaying his journey for a while. Yet, he didn't, didn't even want to slow down. In actuality he seemed...normal about it all, so it seemed. Ash wanting to start over, leaving only with Pikachu to Hoenn. Delia even now wasn't sure if that could have been Ash's strange way of dealing with a hidden distress. Brock and Misty had just left, and Ash wanting to just leave almost his entire team should have rung alarm bells. Yet that didn't quite do it.
The hat, however, rang a thousand bells.
When she bought the hat which would become part of his Hoenn getup, she didn't buy it for Ash.
She'd seen Pikachu in a hat in a few pictures and thought he looked absolutely adorable, and a comment Professor Oak had made in passing informed her Pokémon tended to copy the behaviours of their trainer, so she figured why not give him his own hat? As soon as she found what was supposed to be Pikachu's hat she knew that was the one, because it was the closest one she found to a design of an open Pokéball. She couldn't find one in Pikachu's size, but she suspected Pikachu would have preferred a human-sized one anyway. (plus it was way cuter that way) Yet when Ash had opted to surrender his own hat for it she'd been stunned.
She wondered if he even remembered...
She could still recall, as clear as the air of Pallet the day he first saw that hat. He'd been watching a battle on Television, one involving the very man Ash had now gone to see. The Grandmaster had won soundly, and he and the league president had the announcement, with Quentin holding up the contest prize.
Ash had nearly jumped at the TV. Delia couldn't remember a time he'd paid more rapt attention to anything. The contest was simple, send in a postcard and say what you love about Pokémon. If yours was the one selected at random, and gained the Grandmasters approved, you won the hat. Delia had thought out loud, about how many children would be competing for that prize.
Her baby was a genius, there was doubt in her mind that when he put his mind to something, he was a genius. He'd shouted something about "thousands of kids competing" and something else about "a million postcards!"
It was a few days before she realized exactly what she meant. From there, whenever Ash had free time he was all over the town like an Abra on...well Delia wasn't sure what substance would cause an Abra to be that erratic. In a town like Pallet there was almost always little things nobody wanted to do, especially on the farms, and he did them all. He kept to the farms almost every day, helping to both feed and clean Pokémon, and all without a single complaint. He'd been hurt a few times, taking some shocks from more temperamental Mareep in particular, not to mention a nasty cut from a Sandslash that was in a very bad mood, but not once did he consider quitting. By the time the contest was over he'd probably had more exposure to Pokémon than even Gary did, and his Grandfather had access to more Pokémon than even he had counted. Ash had earned a lot of money, from a child's view, and every cent went into postcards, and he filled out every single one. He delivered them all too, taking several school bags worth of them. Probably not "the million" he intended, but way more than even a family's worth of people were likely to send in a lifetime.
Then came the waiting game, and it was the most impatient Delia had ever seen him. He'd be outside every morning, meeting the postman to see if anything had come for him, quickly turning back with a gloomy disposition when he found out nothing had. He'd check when they got home too, even though post was always delivered early in the morning. Day's turned into weeks, and before long Delia truly believed he hadn't won, though she didn't have the heart to tell him.
Then one day Ash came back from the postbox, his smile brighter than the sun as he proudly displayed his new prize. To this day, Delia could count the number of times she'd seen him smile that like on a single hand. From that moment on that hat was almost fused to his skin. He almost never took it off. He ate breakfast in it, went to school in it, he even slept in it for a while. He did try to wear in the bath, but even Delia had limits.
...after the first few times.
It was the first thing he'd ever been possessive of too. When there had been no choice but to wash it (owing to a little incident involving rain and mud), he'd sat at the machine, watching it turn and turn, and she had to stop him pulling the door open a couple of times when the machine briefly paused, and he'd only repeated the process when it came to putting it in the dryer. As soon as it was free he put it back on his head and was off about his business. Aside from her, he never let anyone even touch it, never mind wear it. A boy at school had tried to take it, and wound up with a previously very loose tooth being knocked right out.
His attachment only weaned slightly over the years. (He stopped wearing it absolutely all the time) It still remained his favourite possession. Then came, only all too quickly the day he would leave home. She'd have had a heart attack if he'd said he was going on his journey without it.
Then came the day he declared that he would.
There were things in the universe that just never meant to happen, and that was near top of the list. It'd taken her some time, but in the end she came to understand the sad reality of his actions, and the reality that he did not understand what he was doing.
He was trying to let go.
In the end, she could only let him do so. What could she really have done? Would could either of them? She watched him go, knowing he'd be 'fine'. His attitude wouldn't change, he really wouldn't, but that blow life had dealt him would leave that subtle wound. Then he met May. A new trainer, a nice, pretty girl, and she was relatively close to Ash's age.
It didn't need to be spelled out.
Yet time passed, and nothing seemed to come of it. Then he went to Sinnoh, May had left, and a new female companion joined him, and the cycle repeated once more. Ash continued to travel, never seeming to take any interest in anyone, or even an interest in pursuing a relationship. She had wondered if somewhere across the line Ash would just forget Misty in his heart, and for a time that doubt really did linger. If Ash didn't have an interest in getting a girlfriend (or even an interest in girls for that matter), what reason was their really to hold on to Misty?
Then one day Ash told her a story of a day in Sinnoh, where Dawn had managed to catch a new Pokémon. A sudden remark from the young coordinator made Delia smile, inside and out.
She had doubted in vain, and the years she'd wondered were all brought to an end. While Ash did care for the girls he travelled with after, he didn't have that unique kind of closeness to them as he had with Misty, and as much as Delia found it a little rude to admit, she wouldn't want it any other way. When Ash had left she'd been truly afraid of him travelling alone. Then along came Misty, and though it started as her wanting repayment for her bike, she'd stayed because she'd ultimately wanted to.
Delia would always be thankful to her for that.
She continued turning pages. His last parts of Kanto, the Orange Islands, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh. Ash sure did keep some good people by his side over the years.
Now if only someone had been there with him through Unova...
He was so lost right now. He made various attempts to hide just how much he was, or maybe he didn't realize it. He was still so young, and telling someone so young "that's it, there's nothing else to do" is not something most his age could easily handle. At his age he should be looking ahead, not realizing he was already finished with his life's ambition. She wished she could do something, but she was never...never like him, really It was not something she could understand how to address. She couldn't help him what so ever with the matter of his finished dream. All she could do was let him go to someone who could help him. Hopefully, he'd find whatever he was looking for, find his way. Find whatever answers he needed.
She just hoped he'd like what he would find. That he could accept what he would find. She sighed, and smiled, looking out the window into the rainy sky.
"Just be safe Ash. I love you."
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Why?
Why was it like this?
Pikachu continued shaking Ash, but nothing. He wasn't waking up.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be!
Pikachu stopped shaking, listening for the sound of-okay he was still breathing. He wasn't...Pikachu clenched his paws against Ash's shirt.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Pikachu knew that better than anything else. He knew, knew how it was supposed to be. They were finished, done! They'd reached the top! They should have stopped by now! It was supposed to be family, friends, fun, and stopping to enjoy life like they hadn't done in forever! It was supposed to go back...back to normal! Ash could have friends again, he could be happy again! He could be him again!
They could be content with their lives again.
But they weren't, he wasn't. He wasn't anything even resembling okay. He'd become so angered, lost and disillusioned. Now there was this. Ash had taken wounds from battles before, but this wasn't little scraps or light burns like those times. This wasn't the kind of thing that could be shaken off and forgotten within an hour.
If he didn't stop...
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From within the Oak laboratory, Gary looked out a window, at a certain house in the distance. He released a sound akin to a growl.
"He's just got back home after so long and he just goes off again..."
On the other side of the room, Tracey placed a bowl of food before a Charmander. "You gonna beat that dead Ponyta forever?"
He turned on his friend with a potent glare. "You saw it too, Tracey. How in the hell can you forgive him so easily?"
Tracey turned away from the Charmander, quiet for a moment before he finally answered. "Because he's Ash. Say what you want about him, but he's never intended to hurt anyone."
He turned back to the window, venom in his gaze. "Well he did. Maybe somebody should hurt him..."
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"Pikapi, pikapi, pikapi!"
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May lightly petted her Skitty as she looked out the window, the aforementioned Pokémon entranced by the rain. It'd been silent for a while, she and Dawn content with whatever they'd happened to be doing, but something had been weighing on the older coordinator's mind for some time.
"Do you think Ash watched?"
Dawn was intently looking through several fabrics, while occasionally looking at Piplup, who was currently practising his dancing, to Dawn's slight chagrin. Watching Feraligatr at work at the championship had inspired a further interest in Piplup in using dance as a means of fighting/looking good in contests, but while his role model had been a master for years, Piplup would need a very considerable amount of practice. Didn't mean he was about to give up any time soon.
Dawn didn't look up from her fabrics. "Does it matter?"
May nodded. "I think it does. I'm sure he came to watch us at that contest."
She just shrugged. "Yeah, well he ran off."
"He didn't have much of a choice."
Dawn bit the inside of her bottom lip, and Piplup backed away from the very annoyed expression she was holding. "What are you trying to get at, May?"
May petted Skitty a few more times before, "Maybe we had him wrong."
Dawn only looked to her fellow coordinator/former friend of Ash, her disbelief reflected in the window May was looking through.
May continued. "I'm not saying he hasn't been a jerk." That wiped away some of Dawn's disbelief, but there was plenty of shock remaining. "It's just well, everything. When he just left it was just rude, but then he didn't contact us again. Then later he did the same to Max, and everyone." May frowned. "Now well, he's not himself. He'd normally jump at the chance to get on camera but he isn't. It just all seems strange, that's all. He's not acting like himself anymore." She fell silent for a moment, petting Skitty a little harder than before, not that she minded. The petting slowed, and stopped before silence very briefly fell.
"I don't want something bad to happen to him."
Dawn shook her head with an annoyed role of her eyes as she turned away to return to her work.
"Well I don't care what happens to him and neither should you."
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Pikachu shook harder than ever before. "Pikapi!" He gave one hard shake.
Ash's head suddenly shifted, seemingly rousing from his state for an instant. Only an instant. His head raised up...before falling forward.
"PIKAPI!"
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Max and Ralts sat alone in Max's room, a television set playing a recording of one of Ash's matches at the Championship. It was Ash against Steven, Pikachu against Aggron. When the two first met, Ash vowed he'd be strong enough to fight Steven one day, and on the day this recording portrayed he made good on that vow and then some. Steven wasn't Champion back when they first met. It was only little over a year later he'd taken it (leaving Wallace to pursue his true passion), making him one of the newer Champions.
Ash didn't exactly put a good mark on his early career. On the screen Ash was pensive...He suddenly nodded. "Pikachu, Flash Step!"
Pikachu vanished.
Max smiled, still impressed by that move. When it came to the mechanics of Pokémon moves, Max had studied to a depth most even five times his age hadn't, and though while he did have some guesses, he couldn't figure out exactly how that move worked.
He wondered if anyone ever would.
The battle waged on, and as Aggron ravaged the land with overwhelming power, Pikachu slipped through the gaps in his wrath. Max picked up his remote, quickly fast-forwarding through the rest of the match, watching as little by little, Aggron's strength was chipped away. Speed alone did not win the fight, with Aggron finding himself on the end of heavy blow time, and time again. Steven's skill as a champion shined through still, as even Pikachu could not remain un-hit entirely, and there were some so very close calls, instances when all seemed lost as the match progressed towards its end. Max hit play once more, as Pikachu came sailing down from the air, spinning through the air like a wheel, a mass of yellow with a trace of grey.
The Iron Tail struck with force that cracked the ground beneath its target even further, and further still as Aggron hit the ground, unconscious.
Max raised his remote, stopping the video. He turned his eyes to a photograph on the wall. One of himself, May, Ash and Brock. He frowned. He had the benefit of a more unique perceptive, when compared to his sister for example. He got to see more transitions of the disturbing process. He had seen it further than anyone else, and yet...
"What happened to you, Ash?"
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"CHUUUUUUUU!"
Ash was lit up as Pikachu released a stream of electricity into him, which held for several seconds before Pikachu stopped.
Ash's finger twitched. His hand slowly closed. His breathing grew stronger, his head raising as his eyes opened. Pikachu felt a cold feeling somewhere inside him, like he'd swallowed ice. Ash's eyes, there was such loss in them, like he wasn't even truly looking in front of him. "So...that's when..."
The moment, the memory he'd believed forgotten. The moment which started what would lead up to this. "Heh..." Pikachu watched his eyes closely, Ash's spark had long since faded away, but now light seemed to follow. "She always said it, and I didn't listen..."
Pikachu could only watch, watch as the lights dimmed from his eyes like dying fires, slowly leaving only brown shells in their wake. Instant after instant, more and more of what was once Ash Ketchum, that ten-year old boy from Pallet town, who'd left with his head full dreams and heart full of hope faded away. Now there was Ash Ketchum, Pokémon Grandmaster. One who wished to be no-one once more. His head bowed again.
"I really am an idiot."
A red droplet fell from beneath his hat, landing on his shirt and marking it. Ash's shoulders started to shake. First gently, accompanied by more rapid breathing as they shook harder, his breathing quickening too. Soon his body was lightly thrashing, a rapid beat of sound escaping from him as he sat there.
"Pikapi..."
It grew stronger, and suddenly his head raised up to the sky, and Ash finally let it all out. Let out all of his suffering, his pain. Under the sky, and sun as his witnesses as the testimony of his heart was set free...
Pikachu gasped, and felt a chill run down his spine. This was the moment where everything Ash had been keeping down was set free. Where he could finally let it all go...Pikachu took a step back.
Ash felt it, felt everything. The dull pulsing sting of the cuts on his arms, legs, the taste of blood in his mouth, the most recent additions. He could feel his strength, weaned throughout the battle. Could feel the dubious warmth leaking down his body, from the sides of his mouth as well.
"Feels like I'm gonna die."
He didn't want to die, not in the slightest, but...
But...
It was just too funny!
His fists pounded the ground under him, as his laugher grew in sound in strength. It was the grandest joke. Now why was that? Why was he the only one who could see the absolute hilarity in all this? And why couldn't even he explain it? He lowered his head, letting out a few more brief laughs before he stopped. "Heh." He started again, breaking into a small fit of mad giggles. Ash didn't much care for anything else right now. He would be content to just enjoy the joke, for a time anyway.
The time soon ended.
He breathed, breathed deeply. Then he took another, and another, before raising his head to breath deep the strangely clear air. He could hear it, the sound of fire burning stone. The crackling contrasting against the faint sounds of escaping water. The feel of the suns rays on his bleeding form, the oddly cool, yet slightly sticky sensation of his own fluids making their way down him. How strange it all was, it held such carnage...yet brought such a unique clarity.
He needed clarity right now.
He grunted, holding an arm against the stone behind him as he slowly rose to his feet. His movements were heavy and slow, but he did not falter. He stumbled briefly, before forcing his feet to stand firm. His heavy breathing calmed, before he raised his head. He placed his right forearm to his mouth, wiping away the blood from it.
This battle would go on.
"There is meaning in this." He grunted in strain again, shaking some remnant dizziness from his vision. He had a Wailord-sized headache, but he wouldn't stop. A good battle spoke to his heart, something which he himself was so out of touch with. It spoke from his heart, his very soul. Battle was the truest form of expression he had right now. A good battle, a true battle was the closest Ash could ever come to understand to expressing true art. Some could find it in poetry, others in music, some in the intricate ministrations of a paintbrush. For Ash, he could only find it in the ephemeral nature of a true battle. Brief, chaotic, then lost to time forever more.
"There is always meaning in this."
There always would be, and what was life without meaning? Meaning was worth the costs. It was worth the strain, the effort. It was worth his body. It was worth his blood.
"Pikapi."
Ash looked down, his near-empty eyes finding his oldest and most trusted friend. "I'm alright. Just a little banged up-ow." He clenched at his shoulder, rubbing it for a moment. He removed his hand, the pain now nullified. "I'll be fine."
"Chu pika pi chu." We have to stop.
"Stop? Why the hell would we stop! You want this battle as much as I do! I can see it in your eyes! Don't try and lie to me Pikachu because you know you can't, I know you too well!" He met Pikachu's worried glance with a sad smile. "Pikachu. I've never forced you to fight, I won't start now. But we both want this fight, so let's have it."
"Ka pika chupi pikachu! Chu chu pikachu kachu, Pikapi." But we used to do more than this! Be more than this! You used to be more than this, Ash.
"Yeah...I used to be. But this..." He looked up into the flames, his fires. The fires he had come to call his home. "This is all I really have left." He closed his eyes, his body slowly slacking as he took a shuddering breath. He clenched his fist, his eyes opened, and suddenly his weakness was gone. "Let me have it. Remember what I said before, Pikachu."
Pikachu had to stop for a moment, what Ash had said? What did he say? As Ash walked forward, passing Pikachu the rodent's mind was quickly at work. His mind took him back to a hallway, as Ash walked forward...
Pikachu opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Ash looked around his current location. It was huge, to say the least. The peak he'd been battling in was just a part of it. It turned out there were a total of four peaks. The one he'd been battling in, one on either side of it, and one parallel to the one he'd just battled in. The four peaks were upon a circular surface, of which the large peaks were just decorations.
Ash took a good look at the peak he'd just been fighting in. The battle scars were now deep and plentiful, with everything that was above the actual arena underneath now just smoking remains. The underside was mostly unaffected, but some small cracks were leaking water, seemingly not heated by the fire that burned above it. Such power that'd been unleashed inside, now it had to be taken outside. Ash briefly wondered why Quentin had bothered with the battlefield, this outside area was a far better battleground. Much more vastness to it. So much more freedom. Perhaps the former Grandmaster had become accustomed to more formal battlegrounds...
Though speaking of Quentin...where was he? Ash looked around, looking for his opponent before-there.
Quentin moved across the ground slowly, his pace neither leisurely nor rushed. Ash watched with slight awe wondering briefly if his predecessor was even human. Though...perhaps there was something to be said for getting out-of-the-way when danger was incoming. The former Grandmaster came to a stop, looking at Ash with a frown. "I commend your resilience. But are you trying to get yourself killed?""
Ash waved his arm downwards, shedding some excess fluid from it. "No. But I screw up, a lot actually." He lightly pressed a hand over the wound for a few seconds, trying to quell the persistent sting. "Think of this way, I screw up bad enough then you get the title back anyway."
"And what, Ash, should you 'screw up', will happen to those who care about you?"
Ash shrugged. "Most of them have already seen me for what..." He looked down at his bloody hands. "I am. Everyone else will too. They're not stupid..." His shoulders rose and fell, and Quentin could have sworn Ash's voice had risen in pitch just slightly.
"So they wont miss me."
"CHUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
Ash screamed as he was quickly felled by the sudden voltage. Before he could move Pikachu was on his chest, grasping him by the collar. "Pi pikachu ka?! Chu pi pika pika chu? Ka pika? Pi? Pi pikapika chupi pikachu chupi ka ka pikachu pi pika chu pikachu ka!" How can you say that!? Are you thinking of the team? Your mom? Me? If missing you is something only idiots would do then I wanna be the biggest idiot on earth!
Ash smiled, sadly. "Guess we're both idiots huh?" He shook his head lightly. "What did I do to you?"
Pikachu smiled. "Pi pika chu chupi pi ka." Be the best person I know.
The entirety of Ash's face seemed to jump in response to that, before he quickly lowered his head, hiding behind his hat once more for a moment. "You really are my best friend." He looked up, a wider smile on his face as his eyes briefly sparkled in their near total darkness. "I love you."
Pikachu smiled too. "Pi pichu chu chu." "I love you too."
Ash enveloped Pikachu in a hug, and both of them remained in that position for a while. Eventually they parted, and Ash looked Pikachu in the eye and grinned. "Now if we're both idiots, then let's show him what real idiots are capable of!"
"Pika!"
Pikachu removed himself from Ash, and Ash rose to his feet, faster than his had before. He quickly found steady footing. Now it was him, Pikachu, standing across from Quentin as a pillar of smoke rose from what was previously their battlefield. The battlefield which held two occupants...
Both Grandmasters turned, what was the outcome-BOOM!
The remains of the peak exploded, a near-solid mass of smoke bursting out of it and slamming into the ground in front of it. There were no sounds, which could only mean one thing.
The victor had already been decided, but who? Both could only watch and wait.
The smoke passed, and the roles of conqueror and conquered were immediately defined, the loser clasped by the neck in the jaws of his enemy. Teeth clasped tighter.
"Charizard!" The victor clasped his jaw even tighter, deaf to the whimper which emitted from his prey as he growled. His growling intensified, slowly starting to pull on the neck of his prey. "CHARIZARD!"
"Dammit!" Quentin reached for a Pokéball as another growl met Ash's cries. The victor started to pull harder, determined to ensure there would be no rematch.
"CHARIZARD, STOP!"
Charizard's rage-drunk eyes suddenly blinked. Then they blinked a few more times, his rage seeming to disappear like a candle fire before the breeze. He looked down, at what he was holding in his jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning down. He gently placed his defeated foe on the ground. His defeated, now-comatose foe. He raised his head to the sky, a brief flare shooting from his gaping jaw before it suddenly turned to smoke. "Charizard..."
Charizard was...there was no other word for it. He'd been ravaged. Both his wings were at the wrong angle, his arms seemed to be completely limp, and his tail fire was little more than candlelight. His body was lined with more wounds than Ash could count at a single glance, a number of them burns from the very move which had destroyed the arena he'd been fighting in previously. His eyes were half closed, his breathing heavy. It was a miracle in itself he was standing, never mind having actually achieved victory.
Quentin raised his Pokéball. "Aerodactyl, return."
A beam of red light returned the defeated Pokémon to whence it came, but at this point it'd have been nothing but a fixture on the battlefield anyway. Charizard slowly walked from where he was standing, taking a place between Ash and Quentin. He growled.
Ash couldn't let him continue. "Charizard, it's time to stop fighting." Charizard only let out a brief spark of flame from his mouth. "Charizard! Your wings are broken, your body's burned, and you're exhausted. I'm not letting you face him like this!" Charizard only roared, taking a staggering step forward. "Please Charizard! This is important to me!" He stopped, turning his head slowly to Ash. "Charizard, you've fought every other Charizard you've met to prove you're the strongest, right?" He nodded, slowly, his injuries clearly extending to his neck as well. "It was important to you, and you'd never accept any help, because you wanted a fair fight, right?" Another nod, and a look of recognition starting to form in his eyes. "Well it's the same for me! I want to do this right!" Charizard closed his eyes, and after a moments silence, finally nodded. Ash smiled. "Thank you. Take a good long rest. You're more than earned it." A red beam of light shot forth, freeing the lizard-dragon Pokémon from the battle.
"I was starting to wonder if you'd ever withdraw a Pokémon before they collapsed."
Ash looked at the Pokeball containing his thus far most injured Pokémon. "When we get to this level, every fight is dangerous, but it's a trainers job to make sure their Pokémon don't..." Ash suddenly swallowed. "A trainer must protect his Pokémon." He placed Charizard's ball back on his belt.
Quentin performed a similar motion. "Well Ash. You defeated Aerodactyl." His face somehow seemed to darken in feature as he smiled. "You know what that means." He reached his left hand up. Quentin unclasped the fifth button.
The final button. Quentin's coat opened, revealing that underneath he were only a simple white shirt, yet somehow this simple act, this single act, was striking. "I haven't felt this kind of pressure since...her. My predecessor." He reached into his coat, pulling out something which was next to his heart, a sixth Pokéball. "Congratulations, you have proven your power is truly is at a level befitting your station." He pressed the button, expanding the ball to full size. "But it all ends here! Now you face him!" He raised his Pokéball high above his head. "My oldest friend! Prepare for battle!" The ball opened. Spilling out an all to familiar light onto the ground before him. Quentin's sixth Pokémon took form.
The sixth emerged kneeling, arms crossed across its chest, its fists resting on its shoulders. Eyes closed, its posture like a statue. Such seriousness, such an aura it emanated. It would be easy to forget this was the creature that had sat across from Pikachu that very morning.
He opened his eyes, standing and letting out his echoing war cry towards the sky. "SMEARGLE!"
Pikachu's cheeks crackled once more, before his entire briefly sparked with power. "Pikachu!"
Smeargle rose to his feet, his tail spilling ink briefly across the ground. Smeargle...Quentin's final, starter, and most powerful Pokémon.
Ash felt a chill crawl down his spine, he knew what the creature was capable of, just like so many others had come to know. When Smargle had first shown himself in Quentn's run at the Championship, countless had laughed, mocked and questioned the existence of this creature in what was then an aspiring-Grandmaster's team. No-one believed that a painter could have been strong.
Everyone had learned to believe.
Even Ash knew better than to judge this creature based on his appearance. "Pikachu. Smeargle is...incredibly strong. You've never faced anything like him before. This is gonna be the toughest battle you've ever fought." Pikachu didn't speak, but there was a faint crackling in the air.
Pikachu's speaks crackled with power, quickly growing stronger and stronger before striking a small stone near his form, reducing it to dust, and the fires that burned in Ash's eyes shined in Pikachu's too. He would fight. Like Ash, nothing would stop him from doing so. Pikachu would have hated to admit it, and Ash wouldn't make him do so, but the truth was the truth. He wanted this fight. Ash wanted this fight. Arceus himself could not have hoped to stop them from claiming it.
Pikachu walked forward, taking his place a distance from Ash.
Quentin blinked slowly, before taking a quick look at what would be their battleground. "Not ideal, but this area will do for the finale."
Ash too looked around, taking in the strange layout of the place. "Where are we?"
"Far in the north of Johto. Atop the Talon of Ho-Oh."
"Ho-Oh..." Ash looked to the sky. "You know, I've seen Ho-Oh a few times."
Quentin gazed into the distance as well. "I'm actually inclined to believe you. You wouldn't be the first, and I doubt the last." He turned his attention back to Ash. "Though I wonder if you'll ever see him again. Ho-Oh shows himself only on those with certain special qualities, though clearly yours have long since been buried."
Quentin looked at Ash closely, making the young man slightly uncomfortable under the considering gaze. "Ash...tell me something. What happens, if you defeat me? What will you do after that?"
Ash laughed, was Quentin joking? His laughter died when he saw that the question was honest, though his smile remained. "What people like us do." The darkness in his eyes flared. "I'll find someone stronger."
Quentin seemed unsurprised, yet displeased. "Where does it end, Ash? Where does your lust for battling finally end?"
Ash did try to respond, but it felt like he'd suddenly lost his voice. His eyes averted Quentin's gaze, suddenly gazing down, his head following with it.
Where would it end?
He'd never thought about that...
Would it end when there was nobody to fight? No, that would never come, there was always somebody looking for a fight. Would it be when his...when he body failed? He took a look at his hands, and he only now realized, that his gloves too, had taken a share of the wrath of the Leaf Storm Blade. He gently clutched his right glove, pulling it off his hand slowly.
Dried blood. His hand was covered in it. He opened his palm, painted with a thin layer of it. His arm too, both of them, were both so wounded, as his legs, and entire body. He had been through so much, yet nothing was quite like this. He had tested his mental limits, his...his hearts' limits. Yet he never put his body to the test like this. He put his glove back on. Where would it end?
He opened, and closed his hands, before his hands slowly fell to his sides.
He breathed deep. With his head still bowed, Ash spoke. "If you're just gonna preach to me then say so now." He raised his head once more, his face holding no smile, just the burning darkness of his eyes. "We got no interest in fighting cowards."
"Nobody calls us cowards, Ash!"
"Then shut the hell up and fight!"
Quentin's gaze turned cold. "Fine. I'll show you what the power of a true Grandmaster is worth."
Those words...
A true Grandmaster...Quentin had defined what that was, hadn't he? Ash smiled. "Then I guess this is what it comes down to Quentin! Let's see which is really stronger!"
"The Grandmaster's role is someone that everyone can look up to, regardless of where they are from."
"A true Grandmaster is an example, the example of what a trainer is supposed to be."
"The role of Grandmaster to trainers is to what good Kings once were to peoples. You are the King now."
The role Quentin had played..."Those who play King!"
Ash didn't want to serve, to help, or was it that he had just forgotten how? It didn't matter, he knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. He would go on, he would demand dozens, even hundreds of strong ones brought before him to fight. As many as he could get. He was Grandmaster, they would come! Should they not come to him he'd go find them, those who held no title, but held power! Who knew true strength! Quentin would not grant him the battle, this sacred clarity as much as he would like.
So he'd go out and claim it himself.
"Or those who play God!"
With those words it was understood. This fight would happen, and the time for words was done.
Ash clenched his fists, traces of blood spreading from his fingernails as he smiled, which against his now darkened eyes would chill the hearts of any who cared for him. It was fortunate Pikachu's attention was upon his foe, his cheeks crackling briefly now and then. His face held a similar smile, though his would do far more to provoke than anything else.
Across from Pikachu, Smeargle's face was stoic, his tail beating the ground under his feet as he stood up straight. The only give-away to his true feelings was the dent forming where his tail had repeatedly struck.
Quentin's face was much like his Pokémon, until he raised a hand to his hat, which had been knocked slightly through the chaos Charizard had caused. Quentin adjusted his hat, back to its correct position. His eyes briefly averted what was before him, looking up into the skies as they closed.
"Forgive me..."
His eyes opened, and he met Ash with a glare as a hard as iron. Ash felt something inside, as if something quivered. In fear? It was strange, and stranger still, it was exciting. Those were eyes he'd wanted upon him for as long as he could remember. These were the eyes that only belonged to a single man. The former Pokémon Grandmaster. The man with the strength of conviction that none had overcome.
The Zealot.
His conviction had been set upon Ash. He had deemed him unworthy, and as he had done everything else, he would dedicate every effort to defeating him. As if he had ever required another reason, Ash truly came to believe it. He had seen it countless times, but seeing it from afar, and having such resolve stand before you were as different as looking up at the sky and actually flying through it. Ash would meet this resolve, will all of his power, and it would end as it would end. Then after, he would go on, in his reign, or perhaps just his life, and perhaps one day...he would be named. "What will they call me, in the end?"
He met Quentin's gaze with his own, and all was it should have been.
Two trainers.
The sun stood high in the sky, casting its glow over the talon.
Two Pokémon.
The blaze continued to burn, releasing smoke as high as it would go.
Atop a mountain where no-one could reach or watch them.
One more beat of a tail.
One more spark of electricity.
This was the place. This was the time.
A drop of sweat.
A drop of blood.
This was the final round.
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End of Chapter
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Next time: Their Ways...
Author's Notes: Here it is folks, the final round and Ash has officially lost it. (this is the closest you're getting to an amazing plot point.)
Trivia: The Talon of Ho-Oh is meant to be a kind of counterpart to Mt. Silver. Just the name "Silver" to me references Lugia (Mt. Silver, Pokémon Silver), and I was a Pokémon Gold guy, so where the hell was Ho-Oh's landmark?
Plus I needed to come up with a good arena for the final round of this battle. Two Pidgey's with one stone. I could have called the place "Mt. Gold", but I didn't think much of the name, so "Talon of Ho-Oh" it was.