Authors Notes:
Well, it seems with XY ep 59, AmourShipping has taken a step towards being canon... Pokémon, you are fucking dead to me. I again bring up the idea of raiding the studio that makes the show and taking over, but this time make a special episode where Misty shows up with her mallet and beats Serena to death.
(I'm a vindictive prick, you might have noticed. Just look at how I punish all of you. Speaking of which; on with the torture!)
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High above in the sky a sun shone, not a cloud to block the rays which shone done, upon a land nearly entirely void of people.
Entirely void, save for two.
A single set of footsteps clapped against the ground in a slow, rhythmic thud, a second, lighter set beside them. A single man was the source of the louder steps, his white hair dancing slightly in the gentle breeze that passed him by. He walked, his destination the only thing there was to visit.
The man stood on the grass, his smaller partner besides him. The man's gaze was focused on something before him. His stance, and his face held a sombre quality to them.
Even his voice. "Hello."
Silence.
"I-...I meant to visit sooner. But things..." He sighed. "They tend to get away from me." He smiled, in spite of himself, he wouldn't have believed himself capable of such an understatement... "I like to think I did well. But I'm not sure if I chose the right way to end it."
A light breeze was his only answer, but it held no words for him. The one he spoke to had no words to say. No eyes to see. No ears to hear. No tongue to give him answer.
"I understand you, now."
Quentin looked down at the headstone before him, the words inscribed upon it accurately described he who lay beneath. The words described a Grandmaster, who had departed this world. "I did it. Every day, I did it, like I was supposed to, like I think I was. I did is so long, no matter...no matter what." He took a deep breath..."Was I right?"
Still no voice spoke to him, no eyes gazed upon him. No answer rose to greet him. All Quentin had, was a silent conversation between himself, and a construct of his imagination. All he had, is what might have been said, but might have not. What would have, was something he'd never know.
All that was, was what he would say. "It parted my hands, in the end." He smiled. "Someone actually beat me."
He turned away, taking but a few steps before he turned his head back, speaking unto the silence one final time.
"Watch over him, Masato."
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Delia lightly hummed to herself as she picked up and dusted a vase. Sure, she could have Mimey do it, but there was a certain pleasure in doing things herself. She remained close to the phone, her hearing at maximum sharpness, though the sheer volume of the device could have easily been heard from the kitchen.
Ash hadn't called in a few days.
On his little trip, he'd made it a point to call every morning, or the one time he'd be unsure if he'd reach a phone the next morning, very late in the afternoon. There had been no calls since then, and unless the previous Grandmaster didn't believe in phones...
Delia shook her head, smiling to herself. "He probably just got caught up in something."
She idly turned his attention to the television. One of the shows she enjoyed had just gone on break, but the network sometimes opted on news bulletins instead of commercials.
Breaking news...
"Yesterday's rumor has now been confirmed. Pokémon Grandmaster, Ash Ketchum has been admitted to hospital for grievous injuries!"
CRASH.
The world shattered, even faster than the vase. Delia felt everything below her vanish, and her legs fell into the abyss. She fell, her legs spreading unceremoniously but she did not care. Her world was ending...
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Misty's pen lightly danced across a form. It was nearly time for the yearly gym inspection, and like everything else in the league, paperwork showed up somewhere. Misty had once briefly wondered how her sisters had ever gotten through it, before coming to the conclusion they probably hadn't. The inspector had been rather glad to discover Cerulean had a new gym leader...
The blare of the TV continued from the wall. Misty smiled to herself, remembering how Delia had got her hooked on this show. Misty had perhaps five minutes to finish this form and watch the second half. She looked at the "badges relinquished" section with a frown, how many battles had she lost in the last year? It wasn't that many, considering the number of challengers her gym got even in a week, but if a gym leader lost too few times their rank was called into question. Had she fallen below the mark?
She was wondering if she should just go and get the badge log when-"Pokémon Grandmaster, Ash Ketchum has been admitted to hospital for grievous injuries!"
Her pen fell, quite forgotten as it hit the floor, the world suddenly growing cold.
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Brock flipped the pancakes on the grill before him, maybe not the ideal lunch food but years on the road had taught him his family didn't exactly display typical behaviours, generally speaking. In the living room Lola groaned, her show was on break/over (translation between groans were near impossible). A little "accident" with the camera (traceable to no-one) had made her give up on her latest career ambition. It'd been about twenty two hours since then, so that left the family about two more hours before her next idea struck her.
He flipped another pancake, nodding and turning off the electrical grill. Now where was the-"Ash Ketchum has been admitted to hospital for grievous injuries!"
Brock's thoughts turned from his food, and to the living room, where he soon moved to. His thoughts briefly turned back to days ago, where a revelation had struck him.
It was just as he now realized...
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May pressed the same button on the remote for the nth time in a row. After trying to find something to watch, Dawn had failed, now it was May's turn, and after every press she'd stop for a second, and after passing over some nature show-"Ash Ketchum has been admitted to hospital for grievous injuries!"
She stopped, and dropped the remote.
Dawn had turned pale.
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"Ralts, gimmie the remote!" A glowing Ralts floated just above Max's reach, grinning as he flicked through channels. Near the TV, two controllers lay quite forgotten near their console. The sounds of the TV occasionally, and randomly changing. One second it was something about making a cake, the next it was-"Ash Ketchum has been admitted to hospital for grievous injuries!"
Ralts fell out of the air, taking a stunned Max to the floor with him.
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The reporter quickly dived into what little information they had.
"The new Grandmaster was admitted two days ago. Witnesses say he appeared right inside the hospital alongside the previous Pokémon Grandmaster, Quentin Gelden, both of them injured. It is not confirmed if Quentin Gelden is still admitted here or not. What we do know is-"
Whatever was known would never be said, as in front of the hospital a flash of white light appeared, and from it came Quentin, his Smeargle next to him. The former Grandmaster's arm was bandaged heavily.
He had perhaps a second before the reporter was upon him. With trained speed and eloquence, Quentin found himself interrogated on Ash's condition, and the details as to how he'd found himself in his current state. Quentin put up a hand, quieting all enquiry.
"He's fine. No lasting injuries. Well, except the brain damage but he came to me with that. Yet you know..." He smiled. "I think that's finally starting to heal."
That part wasn't the interesting one..."How were you and Ash Ketchum injured?"
"He came to visit me. We battled, it got rough, and he's an idiot." He looked to his own visible injury, his arm wrapped so tightly it felt like it had gained an extra layer of skin. He smiled. "Though his stupidity paid off big time." He turned to the camera once more. "I lost." That statement would reverberate through, and shake the world for many days to come. Quentin turned to the hospital. "He'll probably be released tomorr-"
The hospital doors opened, a small crowd emerging. Most were in uniform, but one- "Get away from me!"
Almost everything visible below Ash's head was covered in bandages, save for his hands. Ash expertly ducked another attempt to restrain him, leaping right out of the range of the staff's trained hands. "I told you I'm fine! Now let me go will ya!"
On his shoulder Pikachu growled. "Pikaaaa."
Doctors or not, nobody felt quite like getting on the wrong side of the Grandmaster's Pikachu, it wasn't like the Pokémon orderlies could handle this..."J-just don't overexert yourself."
Ash nodded. "Got it." His eyes shot around. "Oh great, now which way is-" His ears were filled with the sound of clicking, and he had a sudden feeling he was being watched. He turned around. "Oh."
Good thing he'd had that change of clothes, and seeing Quentin he guessed who'd brought them. If only he'd left his bag, and where were his Pokéballs? That didn't matter so much right now. He seemed to be having a Stantler in the headlights moment, and he thought he'd gotten used to this...
"Checking out early huh?" He turned to see Quentin approaching him.
"Yeah, couldn't stand laying around all day." He rotated his shoulder, trying to shake off the discomfort of his chest wrappings. Good thing he wouldn't be needing them long.
The flashing started again.
"Grandmaster, Ketchum! How were you able to beat Quentin?"
"How do you feel after your victory?"
"Are you intending to face any other trainers anytime soon?"
Quentin raised his hand again, with a smile. "I'm afraid questions will have to wait for another day. We're on the clock, and I'm not wasting a minute." He put his hand on Ash's shoulder. "I'll be keeping him for a few days. Someone has to show him the ropes." He grabbed Smeargle's tail out of the air. "Smeargle, you know where to go."
In a flash of white light they disappeared.
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Delia watched, half-there, half-elsewhere, this couldn't be real. She couldn't lose him so soon after getting him back. The words scarcely registered, and the words gave way to a face, a face she knew all too well. She felt a rush of emotion foreign to her: What had this man let happen to her baby?
He raised his hand, and spoke the words..."He's fine." Delia felt new tears come, but from a new foundation. He was okay. "I lost." She'd be proud later, but first things first; where was her baby!?
"Get away from me!"
Ash emerged from the hospital, evading a pack of doctors. "Fine" was subject to opinion here. Yes, Ash was moving about, and yes, he seemed to be energetic, but Delia had never seen someone so wrapped in bandages. His arms were wrapped in them, she had a gut feeling his legs were too. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably, and she knew his chest had been too.
She shook her head, smiling, tears still falling, but resolute. She'd almost lost him, again. She'd had to do something she hadn't done in many years. She couldn't let this happen again. "I'll be keeping him for a few days. Someone has to show him the ropes." With that, Quentin gave an order, and he and Ash were gone from sight. Okay, so she'd have to wait a few more days. Fine, she'd wait, she was nothing if not a patient woman, but the second he got back through that door she'd do it...
He was grounded.
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Misty felt everything freeze to a halt, save for a single thought. Ash was hurt! She had to go to Johto! She had to go to him! She had to help him! Which hospital was he in? She had to find out. She watched closely, as Quentin raised his hand.
"He's fine."
Her frozen world thawed slightly, and the ice cracked, and shattered. Ash was okay. Everything just seemed to wash away with those words. Ash was fine... Ash was fine. "Except the brain damage, but he came to me with that." He'd come to her with it too. Ash...her stupid Ash. Her stupid, single-minded Ash..."I lost."
She smiled. Her relentless Ash. "Get away from me!" Her reckless Ash. He looked like a half-finished mummy (how many times had she wished for a way to shut him up again?), but he moved around with that hyperactive energy he had not shown in recent appearances, where everything about him seemed weighed down. Her mind flashed back to his exhibition match, and after...
Was he finally okay?
She saw his eyes, and-she could see it, that spark in his eyes, it was dimmed, but dim was so much better than gone. It had come back, and with it, perhaps..."Ash..."
"Couldn't stand laying around all day."
Misty snorted, a bold-faced lie if she ever heard one. She could recall many times it took Pikachu's shocks just to wake him up. Getting him actually moving required food. Keeping him moving required further persuasion.
"I'll be keeping him for a few days. Someone has to show him the ropes."
With that, they were gone.
So, Quentin was to teach Ash the Grandmaster's duties. Ash, and responsibility...the Pokémon League was officially done for.
The reporter awkwardly gave focus back to the news studio, ending the segment and the break. Misty wasn't paying attention any longer. She just stood there, smiling, and feeling lighter than she had in a while, this was like old times-
Ah, old times...and with that it all came back. Damn that boy, first he busted her bike, then he made her fall for him, then he acts like a complete idiot 24/7, then he leaves her, then he...she clenched a fist, dammit, and now he'd made her worry! She'd beat him black and blue for this! Her mallet was drinking blood next time she got a hold of him!
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Brock felt the boulder land somewhere in his gut. Oh Arceus, he was right. It'd taken all this time for him to realize it, and now it may have been too late.
"He's fine."
Fine...Fine?! All that, and fine. Fine?! That was-! That was-!...That was Ash for you. The kid could walk into the depths of hell and come back out alive, grinning, and bragging about how many opponent's he'd beaten on his way down and back up. His latest victory...well, the old Ash would have gone on about it for a century without rest, who knew what would be the case now.
Ash soon emerged, and just as he had realized, and predicted... Ash looked like he'd been through a war (and considering who he'd been battling, that observation was likely right), but just like typical Ash, he was still moving around. Brock couldn't help but notice something else too, a certain energy in Ash's step, it had been some time since he'd seen that, since it had been there to see. Finally starting to heal. So there was a hidden meaning behind Quentin's words. Soon, Ash and Quentin vanished, to parts known only to them. Brock couldn't help but chuckle.
"Ash, you idiot." He smiled. "Nice job."
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May and Dawn watched as Ash vanished. May turned to Dawn, slowly. "He, he seems the same as ever, doesn't he?"
"Uh, yeah." Dawn averted her gaze, rubbing her eyes. May recalled their conversation from a few days past, of choice words Dawn had spoken.
Choice words that, fortunately, would not haunt her.
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Still in a pile, Max and Ralts blinked. "He really is the best, isn't he?" Max felt his partner nod.
Max smiled.
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"Where to go" turned out to be a Pokémon center, and after a brief berating from Nurse Joy ("I keep telling you; land outside!"), two sets of five Pokémon had been returned to their respective trainers, miraculously void of any permanent injuries. (though nobody would be fighting at full strength for a while) With that, the former and current Grandmaster left, a teleport placing them in the forest, on the path to Quentin's home.
Good thing too, each felt like a stroll.
"How's your shoulder?"
Quentin looked at his shoulder briefly. "Hurts when I move my arm. Still," He took a look at Ash's bandaged form. "Got off much lighter than you."
"What happened anyway? The last thing I remember was..."
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Two days ago...
"ASH!"
"PIKAPI!"
Ash was falling. Pikachu leapt from the peak, following Ash down, but even at his speed...
Quentin's mind ran through a handful of ideas in an instant, and all came to null. His Pokémon were unconscious, and he was nowhere near fast enough. He couldn't, he couldn't, he-Ash was going to die. Ash was going to die and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it! Ash-
...stopped. "What!?"
"Ala?"
His snapped to his left, finding Alakazam with her arm raised, glowing. "Hospital, now!"
They all vanished, and the next sight Quentin saw was the lobby of a hospital. The people emitted various sounds of surprise, as they took in the sight before them. Quentin set sight on the first passing doctor he could find.
"Help him!"
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"Alakazam picked the perfect moment to show up. If she hadn't..."
He didn't need to complete that sentence. Ash looked down at his now-gloveless hands, the countless almost fully-healed nicks marking them, and went on to mark him almost all over. He remembered the cut on his cheek, the rock slamming into his jaw, himself slamming into the claw..."How-how bad was I?"
"Be grateful you're young. If you were my age you might not have ever left that hospital." He smiled, slightly. "Countless cuts, slammed into a peak, frozen, burned, shocked, and you're still walking around." He chuckled. "Someone up there must really like you. Though clearly they have a funny way of showing it."
Ash smiled slightly, taking note of his wounds. As bad as they were, he knew he could have gotten off a lot worse. His shoulders shook with a brief laugh, the natural order; no matter how close he'd get to biting the big one, he'd just miss the mark and walk away. He'd always find himself back on a road, walking forward to his next destination. Where would he walk next? He looked at Quentin briefly, with the battle over, maybe it was safe to ask...
"Quentin." Quentin glanced at him. "Why did you retire?"
Quentin took a breath, looking to the sky. "Nobody's meant to stand at the top forever, but I made a damn good go of it. I did wonder if I'd ever find a successor, then one day I saw you." He smiled. "I wasn't expecting you for at least a couple more years. Then you rose up early..." His smile faded, and for a few seconds it seemed Quentin was in thought... "And I figured it was my time to go. I'd reigned long enough."
"If your time was up, why just leave? Why not fight me at the championship?"
"Really," he smiled, his shoulders shaking with a single repressed laugh. "I didn't think you could beat me." His smile faded as he continued. "I'd seen your skills over the years, and I guessed correctly you'd defeat the Champions, but a Grandmaster? Such a deed is a more trying task. I doubted you could do it so soon. If you could take the Champions, then that would suffice. Our battle would come another day, I figured. No. I was certain that one day, you'd seek me out, to settle the score. Battles between Grandmasters are a sacred tradition, even I would not escape that. I maintained my training for the battle you'd eventually come for."
"You trained just for one battle?"
"Would people like us do anything else?"
Ash smiled. He knew the answer to that. "Does that mean you weren't keeping an eye out, just in case somehow unworthy won?
"Oh no. I wasn't lying, I kept my eye out. If someone unsuited won I was going to rip them off that throne if it was the last thing I did." He frowned. "Though in your case, it never occurred to me that something could go wrong. It never occurred to me that the years might take a toll."
"What if you did know?"
"I'd have stopped you," he spoke without a seconds pause. "By whatever means necessary I'd have stopped you, and kept stopping you. I'd never have stopped fighting you until I got through to you or stopped you coming back." He smiled. "Seems I would have fought for a lost cause, in the end it wasn't me that saved you."
At those words, Ash reached into his pocket, pulling out two very important things. He looked down at them, his mind in thought...
Quentin glanced at them briefly. "Let me guess, both from the same girl?"
Ash nodded. "I'm not sure why she gave me the Handkerchief. I mean, the lure I can kinda get, but..." He just looked at the cloth, trying to come to something resembling a coherent conclusion about why she gave it to him.
Quentin smiled. "It's a tradition. Women only give Handkerchiefs to those they really care about."
Ash looked up at him, seemingly confused. "Of course she really cared about me. She was my best friend."
Quentin looked at him, and just blinked, slowly. "Ash, did she ever hit you?"
"Sometimes."
Quentin turned away, nodding to himself. "I figured as much."
Not realizing the topic was over, Ash continued. "Normally she'd just punch me, but she had this really big mallet she'd use on me sometimes."
Neither spoke after that, out loud anyway.
"I didn't mean brain damage literally..."
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The days in Quentin's home proved to be quite interesting. After two years on the road, and only briefly returning to his neat home, Quentin's seemed like he'd stepped into another dimension. Whereas Delia kept everything in the Ketchum household neat to the point it could be mistaken for a house without residents, Quentin and his wife (who Ash learned was named Alivia), kept the house just short of falling into absolute chaos.
Not that they'd have a chance of keeping the place clean if they tried. Pokémon walked in and out of the house (making sure to wipe their feet, Alivia firmly drew the line at mud.), doing pretty much as they pleased. Sableye's coffee maker had been acquired before Ash had left the hospital, and he had claimed a corner of the kitchen counter to himself. Actions interoperated as trying to touch his coffee were met with extreme hostility. Small packs of Pokémon could be found watching TV's in random rooms, and at night many slept whenever they felt like in the house. A Shuckle had come into the kitchen the following morning, giving Ash a look he could not grasp the meaning of, prompting Quentin to intervene, and extract fluids from his shell. All this made Ash wonder what, in some distant future, he would have his own house be like. It'd be something between this house and his current home, but where would that be exactly? This was not something he'd ever given thought, but he was finding his head with all kinds of new thoughts these days. A change in one's life meant a change in thoughts...
And boy was his head getting crammed with new thoughts. Quentin's words hadn't been for show, after a copious lunch (with more Pokémon than Ash had ever seen at a table), Quentin dragged Ash off, determined to drill some of the finer workings of the league into Ash's brain. He attempted what few were brave enough to even try.
He attempted to teach Ash.
Sitting next to Ash, Pikachu listened as Quentin was in the middle of explaining something about various titles, the mouse Pokémon holding fear in his eyes...
"...now when a Gym Leader becomes an Elite Four member, they lose their Gym Leader status, just as a Elite Four member must forfeit that title if they become Champion, and how a Champion loses their title if they become Grandmaster. Which is how I lost that title actually. In the case of a Champion, one of the Elite Four must act as a stand-in, and someone must be found to fill in their spot. The stand-in cannot claim official Champion status until they have defended the position successfully. If that stand in is beaten and the title is taken, they return to the Elite Four."
Then came what Pikachu feared most..."Wait, if they're beaten doesn't that mean the title's taken anyway?"
Ash was paying attention!
"Not quite Ash. You see, by rule one can only take a regional Champion title if they're a native of that region. Now many people do compete in conferences from other regions all the time. An additional rule is in place so this isn't a waste of their effort. If a trainer beats one Champion, they are given a free pass to challenge the other Champions without needing to go down the normal route." He suddenly looked up, as if trying to recall something. "Actually...that's how Lance became the Kanto Champion. He was raised in Johto, but he is technically a Kanto native-don't ask I've never bothered checking the details." Ash's mouth closed. "So when he defeated the Johto Champion he moved onto the Kanto Champion shortly after. Leaving the Johto Champion with his title, but a bruised pride. Still, he didn't let himself be beat again, until recently anyway." Ash only nodded half-heartedly, well aware the current Johto champion was quite new to the role.
"So can any of the champion's challenge me?"
"No, like how anyone wanting to take on a champion must best their elite four, anyone wanting to face you must best all the champions. That's what the Championship is for, even if one doesn't directly defeat all the Champions themselves, they have proven they have the skill to do so, and thus shown the skill the current Grandmaster has had to show." He smiled. "It's a rule put in the place to keep the sanity of the higher ups, as the league got popular the strongest were hounded for battles. Some like to take on random fights even so, but you're not obligated to."
That gave Ash a thought..."So if someone beats all the champions outside the championship they can take me on for the title?"
Quentin nodded, then seemed briefly lost in thought. "You know, that has never happened. Not once in a century. I wonder how long it'll be before someone goes down that route..." He shook his head lightly. "Now that's it for how the league ranks work. I better get you informed about your various duties."
Pikachu watched, still fearful as Quentin went through the various details of the title. While far from the longest or most painful lesson, was still far too much for Ash to tolerate on a normal day. He paid attention, save for the brief times he'd respond or raise a question.
"You can probably guess, It all gets a bit cyclical."
"What does 'cyclical' mean?"
"To repeat, Ash."
"Oh." He was quiet for a moment. "Why didn't you just say 'you do the same thing alot'?"
Quentin sighed. "Moving on."
Soon this part of the lesson was done, but Ash raised a question about the existence of gyms, and Quentin felt a history lesson was needed.
A few minutes later Pikachu sighed with relief.
Quentin closed the book he was holding, looking up and just blinking at the sight before smiling, shaking his head at the sleeping Ash. "I don't believe it. The kid can become the youngest Grandmaster in history, yet he can't figure out a girl's in love with him. Dense genius or brilliant idiot?"
Ash suddenly shifted. "Pikachu use Volt Tackle..."
He smiled. "The world's most brilliant idiot." He took a look outside the window, night had long since fallen, so it was only fair lessons should end now. Ash knew what he needed to anyway. Quentin left the room, soon returning with a blanket. He threw it over Ash, Quentin looked down at Pikachu with a smile. "I was succeeded well."
He turned, making his way to the door. He opened it, taking a moment to turn back before he left.
"Make sure he is too."
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The next day, Ash and Quentin sat out in front of his house, sharing tales of battles passed. Ash's library of combat paled in comparison compared to Quentin's long history of fighting, and a fascinating history it was. Still, Ash had a story or two, and he eagerly shared what he had.
"...then Arcanine used Close Combat! He jumped Pikachu, even bit him before Pikachu Stepped away. We knew Pikachu didn't have much left so we put everything he had into Thunder. Arcanine used Fire Blast and for a minute there we had no idea who came out on top. When the smoke cleared though Pikachu was still standing and Arcanine was down!" Ash grinned. "Knew the Championship was ours then."
Quentin rubbed his chin lightly. "Strange, I've never heard of a guy like that..."
"He's never gone to the championship. Don't think he wants to, either." Ash frowned. "Shame."
Quentin nodded. "Shame indeed. You didn't even get his name?"
"Nope. I think there are a few people like that, people who don't want all the attention. I wanna fight more of 'em." His gaze turned wistful. "All of 'em."
Quentin's eyes became home to a shadow. "You still planning to make that of yourself?"
"I-" Ash snapped out of his near-trance. "It's just-...just I..." He sighed. "I've done it, Quentin. I set out when I was ten to be the best. Well now I am, and...and that's it! But I, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now." He'd put his hands together, his thumbs slowly rolling over eachother for a moment. He turned to his predecessor. "What do I do, Quentin?"
Quentin smiled, this brought back memories..."Whatever you want, Ash. Do whatever makes your life worthwhile. Whatever that is, is something only you can decide, only you can even truly know. If it's fighting, then fight, fight until your body breaks down if you absolutely must. There is no shame in it if that's what brings you peace." His smile faded. "But you're more than just another 'warrior to the end'. You've got more than that. You've been fighting so long I think you've forgotten how to do, how to be anything else. It's time to start remembering, Ash."
Ash opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He'd...well, he wasn't quite sure what he expected, but he expected something. Some kind of marked way forward. What did he want, exactly...
His mind turned to those he knew, those who, in the end, he'd fought and won for. There was a clear want right there, to fix things, to repair bridges, and for one blissful second he pictured doing that, and all of them were celebrating his new achievement.
Yet...that didn't answer his question. That merely repaired his past, but his future, his future was still a mystery. Yes, he wanted to fight, but it was in the same way he wanted to breathe, it was just part of him. There was something else, something beyond that, something he couldn't grasp...
What did he want, now?
Quentin took in Ash's pensive gaze, knowing he'd put a lot on the boy's mind. It had to be done, though. He had to face his reality sooner or later, sooner being the preferred time. He turned his eyes to something else, much less serious, and rather amusing.
Smeargle moved slowly, his poses like a dance as he moved through his fighting style, his Artists' Way, Scrafty was near him, following and mimicking his movements. Pikachu was next to Scrafty, his imitation at odds with his much smaller body. Smeargle's movements came to a stop, his arms slowly falling down to his
sides. Scrafty took his own pose, staring Smeargle down. The artist smiled, taking his pose again. Pikachu leapt away, rolling his eyes. He knew better than to try stopping Scrafty.
Scrafty leapt forth, his leg slashing in a powerful kick. Smeargle leaned back, his tail carrying him away. Scrafty rushed forward, running head-first into a tail thrust-he evaded, grabbing the offending tail and pulling, jumping forward to kick Smeargle in the face-his kick met another, the two flipping away. The two smiled, their fists, then knees meeting, as the two engaged in their spar. Smearge's fists became ignited, as Scrafty's became clothed in lightning...
Quentin smiled. "For all we study about them, we barely know a damn thing about Pokémon. The same can be said for this world." Quentin's gaze turned pensive, and Ash suspected he wasn't entirely with him anymore as he gazed up into the sky. "There are things out there that we have not even begun to understand."
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After lunch, Ash and Quentin (along with Pikachu and Smeargle) were sitting at the table, the blare of the TV loud as the flashes of a Pokemon attack filled the screen, making the Furret appear as it were shrouded by a rainbow, an impractical attack for battle.
This wasn't a battle, if the 'trainer's' getup was any indication.
"Tch!" Quentin looked like he'd tasted something foul, which given Ash could not identify the contents of the glass he was holding, was possible. "Look at them. Parading attacks around like they're a damn fashion statement. They've reduced the path of warriors to theatre!" The taste grew fowler. "Contests, the ultimate insult to all Pokémon battles!"
"Hey they're not so bad!" His mind turned to his now-slighted former friends, sparking his insides with rage. "I've competed in contests!"
Quentin actually dropped his glass. "You've WHAT!?"
If the tension got any thicker it was gonna result in another battle. Smeargle and Pikachu talked their respective trainers down, barely. Quentin cleared his throat, no need to go back to hospital.
"Well since you love to show off so much, you should know your coronation-"
"Coronation?"
"You gotta do a ceremony, make a speech, claim the throne and..." Quentin smiled, a shadow looming in his eyes. "You gotta dance. There, you can show off then."
"But, I don't know... How to dance..."
Ash looked up, not unlike a helpless Growlithe at this moment.
Quentin looked back, his face curious.
Ash kept looking at him.
Quentin kept looking back.
...
They blinked.
...
Quentin's expression turned to horror.
He shot to his feet, then to the door. His voice was suddenly ripe with desperation.
"ALIVIAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
After this day, if Ash had to choose between being on the business end of Charizard's Hyper Beam, and learning to dance with Alivia as an instructor, then he'd have been half way to the stratosphere before anyone could finish making the offer. His battle with Quentin had been one great struggle, but this was downright murderous. He recalled, long ago, times when a bored Scraggy would come at him wanting a spar...
He'd have welcomed a kick to the head.
Ash recalled Quentin's retreat when he'd first entered this house, and wondered if the former Grandmaster was perhaps at least a little scared of his wife.
If he wasn't, then Ash's trust in the man's sanity was deeply shaken.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
When Ash could finally dance to Alivia's satisfaction he found himself wandering through the home randomly, longing for his own home in Pallet. The space was cool and all, but you'd need a map to get around in this place. (and he was never trusting a map again, those things were out to get him!)
Though like always, wandering did show him something interesting. He found Pikachu standing outside a random door. "Pikachu?" Pikachu merely raised an arm, finding what had captured Pikachu's attention.
He looked inside, finding Smeargle before a canvas, his hand moving between a paint board on his hand and the canvas, a brush moving paint between the two.
"Ka pika pi pikachu pika pi." He told me to wait out here.
Smeargle painted much like he fought, with grace and technique that made sense only to a few. Ash looked around the room, finding it stocked nearly to the ceiling with various art supplies. Alakazam was sitting on a box, watching Smeargle work. "Where does he get all this stuff?"
A pair of footsteps caught his ears. "Smeargle sketched Transform a long time ago. And he can do a better me than me." Quentin reached the door, looking around the vast amounts of various paints. A tic mark formed above his eye. "Which makes it a pain in the ass when he finds my credit cards!" He turned his vengeful gaze on Alakazam. "I told you to stop giving him my pin numbers!"
Alakazam started laughing, and Quentin quickly grabbed a small of paints, before throwing it at Alakazam with all his force.
Alakazam vanished, the projectile bouncing harmlessly off another box.
Quentin growled. "I swear if my wife didn't love her so much I'd snap those spoons and shove the biggest one I could find up her-"
"Quentinnn!"
He sighed, and turned to Ash. "Consider this a lesson for later life."
"Eh?"
The air was filled with laughter. "Gle gel smear gle!"
"Don't you start, you moody bas-!"
"QUENTINNN!"
He turned his attention from Smeargle, and sighed once more. "Just so you know, this part is never fun." Quentin grinned, but it wasn't a grin Ash had seen very much in life. Had he seen one like that one Brock's face once? He wasn't sure. "But the making up always is."
He walked off, leaving Ash and PIkachu to blink a few times.
"Weird."
"Chuu."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ash once again found himself lost in the Gelden household. One quick trip to the bathroom had resulted in yet another attempt to find his way around the house. Good thing he'd found the bathroom first...
His eyes moved through the hall, coming across-"Hm?" A door, slightly ajar. Ash approached, hoping somebody was already inside, he sure wasn't getting downstairs on his guidance. "Hello?" He tapped the door lightly, pushing it open slightly. He took a peak in, finding only darkness, save for the...what was that? He open the door, flooding the room with the hallway's light.
He gasped.
Before him was, well, he didn't quite have the words, but it was history. It was a chronicle, the career of Quentin Gelden on the walls and in almost everything he could see. He took a step in, his eyes traversing over everything, only pieces of details registering in his mind. Pictures of Quentin and people he could not name, a painting of him and his team. A trophy cabinet (Hey, Quentin had won the Orange League cup too!). There were various framed newspaper pages, of key moments in his distinguished career. How could anyone just walk away from this? What self-respecting warrior could just pack it up and go quietly? Ash looked around more, finding a file cabinet, and near it stood-
That.
In a class container, for all who entered to see, was Quentin's garb, his colors, the uniform that declared him a warrior. Only his coat and hat were within, the coat had been cleaned of blood, not the first time it had been so either, the damage sustained had been expertly sewn back together as well. Quentin's signature Fedora was just above his coat. It seemed neither would be worn again, now. Such a strange thought, all the years, all the stories woven into the clothing before him, the story of a Grandmaster, the story of the one of the greatest trainers to have ever walked the earth, the story of a man who carried a duty for quarter of a century. A man who, to many, had been an idol, a hero. A marker against which so many had measured themselves.
In the end, it all winds up in a glass box...
Ash wasn't sure how long he was standing there for, before-"Ah, the glory days."
Ash turned, finding Quentin entering. "Sorry, door was open."
"Don't worry about it."
Quentin too approached the class container, smiling at his old outfit. Ash watched him closely, as Quentin's gaze seemed only half-way here, half-way somewhere, well Ash could only guess somewhere in time. Quentin gently placed his hand upon the class. He didn't say anything, but Ash couldn't shake a feeling a unspoken goodbye lay in the air. Ash had never really felt much attachment to articles of clothing, save for one item (now where the hell was that hat?), but he'd spent only a few years with it. Meanwhile, Quentin had worn his outfit longer than he'd been alive, far longer. Was hanging up the outfit like saying goodbye to an old friend? Or was it more akin to a part of yourself? Would Ash ever truly know?
Quentin's hand closed against the glass, as he turned away from it, looking around the room, at all the years spanning his career, his accomplishments. Most would look upon this room, their accomplishments with immense pride. Others..."You think for a career that went on as long as mine, I'd have amassed more crap." He looked at his trophy cabinet with a light frown...
"Quentin." Quentin turned his gaze towards him. "Why did you really retire?"
Quentin raised a brow, silent for a second before he sighed, with a small smile. "Figured I wouldn't get it past you." He walked over to the room's desk, opening a draw and pulling out something, a photo frame, and handed it to Ash.
It was a photograph of Quentn's family. There was the former Grandmaster, an arm around his wife, Smeargle and Alakazam in front of them. On his other side his son, his Zangoose flashing a peace sign that seemed more threatening than friendly. On Alivia's other side however was a young woman, slightly older than Quentin's son, and the Smeargle standing by her side left little doubt who she was. Quentin's son had been hidden rather well, considering, his name had barely appeared in any media Ash was aware of. Quentin's daughter had hidden better still, he didn't even know her name, but why was it there was no picture of her in the living room? As Ash looked at the photo, words crept to the forefront of his mind.
"Anyone truly willing to do this job better be ready to pay the price."
That voice spoke other words. "You're not the only one who's made choices they regret. If I judged you unfit to reign I couldn't judge myself to be much better." He took, and expelled a heavy breath. "I didn't judge myself much better. What man has the right to stand as a symbol of unity if he can't even maintain unity in his own family?" Quentin chuckled, in spite of himself. "There's a reason they say "never meet your heroes", no legend is woven without certain details being omitted. I am no exception, and nor will you be."
Ash looked down at the photograph again. The faces here could so easily be replaced with his own, and those of others, those maybe not of his blood, but were his family...once upon a time. "What right...do I have?" Was he really so much, any better than Quentin? He would do the job, if he must, and he'd do it well, as he could manage, anyway. But no matter what, ultimately, his story would be woven without certain truths, certain important truths, just as, if not more important than the title he held. These truths would be forgotten.
"Is-...Is it worth it?"
Quentin walked over to the metal cabinet, pulling out one of the draws. He pulled something from it, a single piece of cardboard-like paper. He tossed it to Ash, who swept it out of the air. What was this-Ash gasped. He recognized the image on the front of the card, he recognized that childish scrawl...
Quentin smiled.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A new morning had come, and soon it was time to for Ash to go.
Ash and Quentin stood out in the field before the latter's home. Pikachu and Smeargle by their respective trainers.
Ash reached up for the hood of his cloak, placing it over his head. He briefly congratulated himself for not taking it to the battle as well.
Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Interesting way to get around unnoticed."
"How did you do it?"
Quentin turned his attention elsewhere, as if remembering... "The things Smeargle can do with facepaint..."
Ash didn't feel like trying on make-up, but..."How long before can I walk around without a cloak?"
"Give it time. People always like something new, but they'll get over it, though you might wanna stay hidden for a while." He looked around the field that surrounded his home, and the forest beyond. "Good thing most can't find me either, they'll be hounding for details on our battle you know." His expression turned serious. "Can you do me a favor? Leave out the part about Destiny's Chains. I don't want some damn fool trying to replicate it and getting themselves killed. No-one but us even knows it exists, I want it to stay that way."
Ash grinned. "I'll just say it was the best battle ever."
Quentin smiled, nodding to himself. "Accurate."
An early morning breeze passed over them all, and with it both raised a hand.
"Goodbye, Ash."
Their hands met.
They shook.
They parted with a smile.
"Goodbye, Quentin."
Ash turned, taking one step, then another, and soon more followed in rhythm. With wise eyes, the former Grandmaster watched his successor go, out into the world to continue the path of the legacy he had been charged with.
Quentin's heart felt no worry, yet he could help a drop of pity fall into his heart. "Still so much a child, yet he's already peaked." He released a heavy breath. "They're going to have to grow up a bit." With a small, even if traced with slight sadness, honest smile, Quentin turned around, Smeargle with him.
"Good luck, Grandmaster Ketchum."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Both Ash and Pikachu were silent as Ash walked, the only sound the soft crunching of fallen leaves beneath his feet, yet Ash's mind was far from quiet.
So this was it...this is how things were.
He had defeated Quentin, the last on the list of the worlds' strongest. It was such a far cry from how things used to be: Enter a region, challenge the gyms one by one, defeat them one by one. Enter the regions conference, fight until he was eventually defeated. For years that was how he did things. It was only now he realized; There was security in that cycle. While the region, and even the people eventually changed, the heart, the cycle, the nature did not change. He always knew what to do.
It was all so simple back then.
He was Grandmaster now. His new role in the world was one he had yet to fully grasp. It was an unknown. It was something he'd never faced before, and there was no going back. He had no-one left to face. Nothing left to do.
He had done everything he had set out to.
As he walked down the hill that lead from Quentin's home...
As he reached the forest before it...
As he walked through the morning sun...
He finally came to understand.
Everything had truly changed.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
End of Chapter
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Notes:
And on that note, it's time to move this story into its final part. Also, I'm officially out of crap plot points. Oh shit, does this mean I'm gonna have to...-shudders-...write something good now? Oh dear fucking Arceus no!
I must renew my supply of crap!
Well. I better read Twilight, while watching The Room, and listening to Justin Beiber. (hey, if I'm gonna make crap I'm learning from the best!)
Good thing I got that bottle of Jack for when this is all over.
(may want to get another...)
One more thing!
Had an idea for a one-shot centred around Quentin. (mostly already written actually) A story showing various scenes through his lifetime, through his time as trainer all the way to becoming Grandmaster, and beyond. Basically his life story in little scenes.
Would anyone be interested in reading it, or is my ego getting ahead of me?