Silently, Ash slid his arms into a piece of the ensemble that would become his new getup. He outstretched his hand, taking the final piece and placing it upon his head. Well, this was it, he turned to face the standing mirror.
Who was this?
It'd been so long since he'd really looked at his face in a mirror, so long he almost didn't realise it was him at first, especially in his new outfit. He raised his hand to the back of his head, feeling his hair, it was longer now, more untamed than it ever was, yet he got the feeling it suited him. He let his hand run across his face, his face, it was astounding how much it could change, yet so obviously be him. He couldn't help but wonder if his title wasn't the only reason he was getting so much attention from girls these days. He repressed the urge to frown, if it wasn't his title it'd be his looks, was the world so petty? He let the thought go, taking a good look at the eyes of his own reflection.
His eyes, they were older too. The wide-eyed wonder he once gazed upon the world with, while not entirely gone, had been tempered with time, having actually seen much, but he also knew there was so much more to see. They were so much stronger. Yet they lacked that… A piece was still missing.
Another thought he could only let go.
He took a step back. Now it really was all so real. Looking at himself now he could truly believe it. The boy, no, the young man before him was the strongest trainer in the world. He'd become what he'd wanted to be all those years ago...Almost, this wasn't quite what he had envisioned. Still, if nothing else the sight before him was worth a closer look.
"Hmm..." Quentin had been right. He was still a little young, but what could be done, really? He took in the details of his outfit. All these years, and his Mom still had dressing him down to an art. A red, sleeveless jacket adorned him. The (near-hidden) zipper of the jacket was surrounded by black on either side, which spread up the height of the jacket, including its pronounced collar. Ash wore a black shirt under the jacket, and dark blue pants. His eyes traversed up, to his hat. He raised his hand to his hat, flipping it slowly, he frowned. He flipped it back.
It was so familiar, so much so that save for the lack of a single detail, it was identical to a certain other hat. Well, almost identical. It didn't have all the little things, little customizations that hat had. The faded burn mark near the back from one of Charizards more viscous outbursts of early days. The cut from one of Bayleefs stray Razor Le aves, that stubborn old stain from whatever it was Muk was actually made of. The tiny strings of fabric, its binds frayed by age in places, poking out. This hat had no time.
He removed it from his head.
This wasn't his hat.
"Hey, Mom?"
Roused from the overwhelming pride she was feeling, Delia managed to answer. "Yes honey?"
"I've been looking for my old jacket and hat, the ones I wore before I went to Hoenn, but I can't find 'em. Do you know where they are?"
The smile she'd been wearing dropped, and for a moment she didn't say a thing.
What could she tell him? This dilemma was, well, one she shouldn't have been facing. She could make a guess as to their exact location she had a feeling was accurate, but that'd raise questions Ash was going to want answered. She'd sworn not to interfere, and that included saying anything that might force a meeting. With a woven façade, and twinge of guilt, Delia pretended to be thinking for a brief instant, before-"Sorry honey, I don't know. I'll have a look for them okay?"
Ash nodded to himself, putting the hat back on, a half-born frown holding his mouth.
For now, it would have to do.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Misty sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror, cursing herself for letting her sisters see the invitation. Attendance wasn't mandatory, and part of her had seriously considered not attending, too many mixed feelings that had had too many years to stir. She hadn't the sense to hide (or destroy) the letter, and Daisy found it. Even if she tried years later, she could not have deciphered her sisters motives. All she really understood was the whirlwind of events that was dress selection, then makeup, then "finishing touches".
Misty wore a cerulean dress (it was a choice between that or scarlet, and it literally took an hour of argument she had no involvement in to decide). It was form fitting, perhaps a bit too form fitting, leaving essentially nothing to the imagination. "Flaunt what you got, baby sis!" Well the dress certainly accomplished that. She'd gotten more than a few staring eyes in recent years, and tonight was going to be a parade of stares most likely. To complete the ensemble, a touch of eye shadow and pink lipstick adorned her face. She'd protested against ear rings, quite violently at that, her Mallet could perform wonders. The only other change she'd allowed was her hair, which she was wearing down. She'd been letting it grow for a while, and it now reached past her shoulders. She cast her gaze to the other occupant of the room.
"How do I look?"
"Zurill! Zurill!" That tone, and bouncing could only mean "mommy looks pretty".
-click-
All eyes turned to the door, and Daisy's entrance into the room. She broke into smile. "Looking good, sis. You'll knock all the guys off their feet!"
She could believe that, she supposed, but it'd be lost on the one guy she wanted to look.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Eep."
"Pii."
A room, which in and of itself could match an arena in scale, with more people than he'd ever seen outside of a battle's crowd. All of them here because of him. Charles had been kind enough to send him a detailed schedule of what the hell would be happening tonight. First, was pretty much a chance for the League bigshots to socialize. Former Grandmasters viewed such events in a more cynical light; as a chance for the rich to suck up to the most powerful trainers, to be seen with what were essentially trainer Royalty. It was far too soon for Ash to be jaded in such a way, but it was inevitable. To the joy of the other Masters, this part wasn't going to last too long. To Ash's despair, is what came next; the Grandmaster would, for the first time, sit upon his throne. That part was easy, but there was one little detail in there that made sitting down an unappealing idea.
He had to give a speech.
It'd needn't be said, but Ash had nothing. It wasn't for lack of trying, it was just-well what did you say? He could brag about how awesome he was, but he'd already proved his might, words were cheap. He could advise trainers around the world, but what gave him the right to tell them how to live their lives? He could tell them how to fight well, and train well, but living? Even if he wasn't a horrible example of that, he'd never want that job. Maybe he should have asked someone for some advice. Was Quenitn here? His gaze shot around, needing to find the former Grandmaster. He had to be here somewhere. Where did a guy in a trench coat and Fedora hide?
He didn't find Quentin, but he had found two faces he couldn't put names to walking his way.
The first was an older man, noticeably older than even Professor Oak (the oldest person Ash knew). His face was aged, but somehow that small smile seemed young even so. His short hair had gone grey with time, but some youth remained in his cobalt eyes. His body spoke of a man who was once very well built, but time had collected much of his strength. A step from him, Zangoose followed him, a cup in his hand as he kept a step away from the cane that kept his trainer on his feet.
Next to the man was a woman, his wife most likely (well, they were walking hand-in-hand). She was younger than him, though she herself was an older lady, older than Quentin at least, maybe around Professor Oak's age. Her hair had not quite faded to grey, but it was likely a much deeper shade of red at one time. Her hazel eyes looked at him with a mischievous glint in them. Following her was a Zoroak. Something was familiar about this paring, but in this moment Ash couldn't place what exactly.
The man's smile widened. "Howdy, Grandmaster Ketchum. Congrats, on defeating Quentin. I was seriously wondering if someone was ever actually gonna pull it off."
Before Ash could breathe a word, he found himself in a somewhat familiar grasp. The man's wife had latched onto him. "He's so cuteeee!" She turned to her husband. "Can I keep him?"
She got a deadpan look. "No."
He got one back. "Stingy drunk."
"Crazy airhead."
"Grumpy geezer."
"Hyperactive brat."
"Wh-" Ash found all eyes on him. "Who are you?"
Ash was released, only for the husband to be latched onto. "He doesn't know who we arrreee!" She wailed loudly. "But we're so awesome! How can he not know?"
The man just rolled his eyes, patting her on the back. "There, there. He'll figure it out soon. Come on, you've scarred him enough."
"Still wanna keep him."
"No. Now come on, woman."
"...I'll share him with you."
He smirked. "Gonna be a cold day in hell before you can bribe me." He gave Ash a smile before he turned. "Congrats again, Grandmaster Ketchum."
"Uh, thanks." The group walked away, but Ash could still make out their conversation as they went...
"Can I keep his Pikachu?"
"No."
"Can I have a Pikachu?"
"You already got one."
"...can I have another one?"
The man sighed. "Dusknoir, take me this day."
"Nope, you're mine." She latched onto his arm. "I won you, remember?"
"Can you act like a normal human for just one night?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Fair point." The man's head turned. "Now let's see if we find him..."
Whoever 'he' was they never said. As they went, Ash kept his eye on the woman. Dammit, why was she so familiar? He had five seconds to contemplate it, and he found no answer to the question.
Though something else found him. "Well I'll be! Ash!" With a strangled cry, he found himself crushed in a bear hug (which by an act of Arceus, didn't crush his ribs), delivered by a man with a strong laugh. "Always knew you'd be great, baby!"
Ash grinned. "Hey, Surge." He grinned even wider when the grip finally loosened. At their feet, Raichu and Pikachu were exchanging a tail shake.
"Now let's get a look at you!" Like a general inspecting a private, he examined the new Grandmaster. "Similar hat, similar outfit, but what have they been feeding you? That short stack kid's up and vanished!"
Ash glared. "I wasn't short."
Lt. Surge roared with laughter. "Well congratulations, Grandmaster. We're off to find us some trouble."
"Rai!"
As he walked off, Ash watched with some concern. He hoped they didn't mean that literally. Then again, this was a formal gathering...
That had better have been meant literally. He let his own eyes wander over the crowds, seeing who he could find. He caught Cynthia and Lance, conversing about Mew knows what. He thought he caught a glance of Jimmy too, but the crowd here had a tremendous capacity to hide people in fractions of a second. He couldn't even find his Mom anymore. Was he gonna have to get used to this? This wasn't very-"Hey, Ash."
He knew that voice, he turned, finding a familiar maiden. "Hey, Anabel." He smiled, "Been a while."
"A long while," she began with a smile, "how've you been?"
"I've survived." For some reason, that made her giggle, and something suddenly occurred to Ash. "Wait, how'd you get an invite? The Battle Frontier isn't part of the league."
"Brandon's got connections, and he owed me a favour." She looked him up and down, with a smile. "You got taller."
He took a look down at Anabel, realizing he was now nearly a head taller than her. "Huh. Guess I did. Time flies, huh?"
"Yeah, I hardly recognize you," Ash's brow raised a that, "I mean your aura, it's-" she stopped, clearing her throat and smiling. "Is it okay if I read your heart?"
"Sure. Uh, how do I let you-?"
"Just give me your hands. Physical contact makes it easier."
"'kay."
Ash offered his hands, Anabel taking them in her own as Ash's mind started to wander. What was in his heart now, exactly? What was Anabel going to find? Recent weeks had been a roller-coaster of emotions, not even he was quite sure what was underneath the surface of his heart. As Anabel did whatever it was this process involved, his eyes travelled over the crowd. There was Alder, going on about who knows what to a group of attentive young women, while Steven watched on with a smirk. He found Charles, sharing a joke with another older man, and-oh, and there was his mom, talking with-
Misty.
The roller-coaster crashed. Crashed, took half the park with it, then exploded with the force of a nuclear bomb.
Anabel's hands released his. "I better get going." Her eyes avoided hers, suddenly seemingly fascinated by the floor. "It-it was nice seeing you, Ash."
"Y-yeah."
Ash just watched, as Anabel turned, quickly making her way, and fading into the crowd. He frowned. "Why do I get the feeling I just hurt somebody else?"
"Pi ka pikachu chu pika." I don't think it was your fault.
"Then why do I feel bad?"
Ash pinched the bridge of his nose, silently cursing. He expelled a heavy breath. Damn it all, even when he made an effort not to cause problems, he made them. He shook his head-not tonight, he was not beating himself up tonight. This, this was his night, a night he'd earned. With that thought in mind, his gaze, and body moved.
There was one place he wanted to go.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
If there was one place in the entire world, one single place in all of trainerdom that could truly be considered sacred ground, then this would be it.
It was a strange location to make sacred, given that it was prone to moving from time-to-time. Until recently, it had resided in Johto. When a new Grandmaster was crowned this place was moved to their homeland. Even with this fact, trainers still came, from far and wide, even from lands beyond where the Pokémon League held branches. Strength always meant something, no matter where in the world, and those looking to behold strength always came here.
The Hall of the Grandmasters.
This had been the first time Ash had walked this hall. It had not been in Kanto when he'd been growing up, but when he'd passed it in Johto he just couldn't do it. Something in him back then had stopped him. He had always made his goal "Pokémon Master", so to walk the hall of the Grandmasters, the ones who stood higher than what he had strived to be, it just hadn't felt like it was time for him to walk this hall.
Now, now he would soon be an exhibit here. The five paintings of the ones who once carried his title would be joined by their successor. His gaze turned to the newest one, though "newest" in this context was twenty five years old.
Quentin Gelden
The painting before him was more than twenty years old, and his predecessor had actually aged rather well. Smeargle stood besides his oldest friend, the background behind them much like the forest that surrounded their home. Ash felt somewhat sad looking at this painting. Quentin had left the public eye some time ago, but now, now it truly felt the end of an era, his own era had come. He smiled, it was like the changes in his own life, in many ways, even something that seemed dictated by fate to be the way eternally could someday change.
Some things had.
He departed Quentin's portrait, seeking the next, seeking the one who had come before the one who had come before himself, the other fighter in the second greatest battle ever waged-and there she was, the forth, Quentin's predecessor.
Callista Viviane
Her portrait was, well… He didn't quite have the words.
This portrait held two individuals within it. On the right, was a woman whose appearance could be described as regal (it befit the choice of background, clearly the interior of a castle). She wore a beautiful golden dress, and tiara upon her head of flowing red hair. She looked every bit as royal as her title made her in the world of trainers, though this was contrasted by the mischievous glint in her hazel eyes.
A glint mirrored by the other person in the portrait. Her face, height, everything but her outfit perfectly mirrored by who stood back to back with her. The other Callista had opted to wear a more revealing outfit. Only two articles of clothing were worn by her. The first a highly decorative, gold bra, which struggled to contain her bosom, leaving essentially nothing to the imagination. The second, well Ash though it might have been intended to be some cross between a dress and a skirt, but the silk it was made from only covered her womanhood and rear as it flowed down near her bare feet, leaving her legs for all to see. Ash squinted, looking back and forth between the two, trying to do what thousands had already tried and failed, and he too soon gave up.
To this day, no-one had ever figured out which one was Callista.
Nobody ever would.
He smiled to himself, before moving on. He moved to the first Grandmaster he honestly didn't know by name.
Andre Dunn
He'd seen this man before. It took Ash a moment to place the face, but he recalled when he was younger, watching battles from older times, and this man was among them. He was good, really good, and now Ash knew why. No matter what point in time, a Grandmaster was never to be taken lightly.
Andre was a tall man, with a physique more suited to contact sports than training Pokémon. His black hair was long and wild, his colbalt eyes fierce, as was that of his Zangoose. Andre's battle garb (He guessed was his battle garb. Callista's painting did not contain hers), consisted of black pants, and a sleeveless white robe.
The background choice was strange, to Ash. While Quentin and Callista had gone for backgrounds meant to appeal to the eye, this portrait's was simple not. Around them was a decayed neighbourhood, the streets, and houses corroded by time and disrepair. What was stranger, was the smiles the two had. The meaning of behind the background, and their smiles, were lost to all but the two. The human/Pokémon pair each held a bottle, which had been clinked against one another. Ash would only much later learn of the theory that to this day was still widely believed; that this Zangoose only ever fought after a heavy dose of alcohol.
Ash wondered if he should take up some kind of weird trait. It seemed to come with the title. Callista was Callista, this guy was a social drinker, and Quentin was an absolute zealot. What could he do… maybe the next one could give him ideas...
Michaela Lowca
In a way, this Grandmaster perhaps the most distinguished. This was the woman who defeated the first, the very founder of the Pokémon League. He'd seen a picture of a woman who looked much like this at Professor Oak's lab more than once. Thinking about it; Oak was young once, Michaela was likely the reigning Grandmaster back then.
Michaela's partner was a Drapion, upon whose back Michaela stood. Her long, blonde hair was wrapped in a ponytail via a black bandana. Her black eyes were, well, maybe not quite scary, but they didn't look upon you like most would expect. She wasn't looking, she was observing, analysing, compiling information on you. It was a gaze few could be comfortable with. Michaela's outfit brought back recent memories for Ash, all she wore was a form-fitting brown cloak. A few tools were on her visible belt, her Pokéballs, a small pair of binoculars, and-survival knives? Ash got the feeling he knew the intention behind her gaze. He moved on, he had enough people eyeing him these days. There was only one painting left, only one person to see in this sacred hall.
Masato Shigen
Looking at him, Ash wasn't really sure what to feel. He'd heard the name, a few times growing up. Even in this era, the name of the first Grandmaster carried much weight, and respect. Just looking at Masato, and his Poliwrath earned Ash's respect, these two had clearly been through many battles, and one glance was enough to see the strength of their will. Ash could truly believe this one man was responsible for the league he'd now risen to the top of.
Ash did not recognize his face, the black hair and brown eyes did not ring any bells, nor did the beard. Masato's physique, while not as exaggerated as Andre's, told stories of a life dedicated to the pursuit of strength. Around his neck, was a long white scarf, both long ends of which flowed down behind him. A sleeve black haori served as a coat, though it did not fully cover Masato's white gauntlets. A black shirt, and matching pants covered the rest of his body, save for the geta that he wore. The painting depicted the pair at the top of a mountain, from which one could seemingly see all the world.
"Kinda overwhelming, isn't it?"
Ash turned, two sets of footsteps making their ways towards him, a Smeargle and-"Quentin."
Quentin passed by his own portrait, smiling as he looked upon the portrait, the only difference between the real and the painted Quentin being the visible years. He turned to Ash once more. "When I first walked in this hall, there were only four names before mine. I can't quite imagine what it's like for you, but I have a damn good idea. To walk the hallway of the strongest is one to thing, knowing you follow them is quite another."
He came to a stop before his own predecessor.
"Callista. The Masquerader." He smiled. "The second greatest battle of my life. She was a dangerous one. Despite her demeanour, she's damn smart. She could analyse, and mimic any fighting style damn near on a whim." His brow suddenly twitched. "Let me tell you, it is not easy to fight someone who sees pretty much everything you've got coming. Even now I'm not sure how I pulled it off."
"You were the best." Quentin's gaze shot to Ash. "Believe me, I know the feeling. Still not sure how I beat you."
"Sheer tenacity," he responded, his eyes returning to the Callistas. "If there's one thing that can be said for Callista, her reign was never dull. It seems like every week she'd be doing something crazy. Doubt her husband liked the chaos, but she had him wrapped around her finger." He chuckled. "She actually got him to kick his drinking. And speaking of drinking..."
Quentin strode to the next painting, smiling wide. He knew that smile, it was the one he used to wear when he got to see Quentin in battle.
"The Sage of Violence. Andre was Grandmaster when I was a boy. Much like you, I imagine, I left home with dreams of facing the reigning Grandmaster one day." Quentin sighed, deeply. "Never did get that battle. He'd already been long defeated by the time I got to be a worthy opponent." Quentin's former joy seemed to have evaporated, leaving a heavy weight in its place. "He's the man who made me want to be a trainer, but his reign's not remembered as fondly as he deserves."
"Why?"
"He did what he had to."
Ash blinked, what did that-and suddenly, something Quentin said when they last met came to mind..."Some Pokémon have met their ends in battles the likes of us wage."
Ash's blood dropped several dozen degrees. "H-he, he-..."
"Yes. The Grandmaster Championship rules do not permit the judges to pass a mercy verdict. That was Masato's creed, as it is our own. A Pokémon's safety is their trainer's responsibility, it is up to them to ensure. When commanded by a trainer who doesn't care for them, a Pokemon's life is inevitably forfeit. Andre gave his opponent chances to surrender, but he refused, and refused, and in the end…" he gave a brief, sarcastic laugh. "And they call me 'Zealot'. Andre carried the fallen Pokémon from the field He took it all the way to his home for a proper burial. Andre, wasn't quite the same after that. He was a harder man, and his first victim was that trainer. Andre came down like a hammer, had the bastard's licence revoked, permanently. He was forbidden to ever battle again. Andre never let him go either, he followed that man like a shadow and it didn't take long to go back to his old ways. He's still imprisoned," Quentn smirked "and eating his meals through a straw." He met Ash shocked gaze, still smirking. "You don't anger Andre if you value your health."
"What happened to the rest of his Pokémon?"
"Andre took them. From what I understand it wasn't an easy transition. When Andre got the idea something was the right thing to do, he did it, consequences be damned." He gave a small smile. "Sounds like someone else I know, actually." Quentin moved from Andre's image, making way to the next stop in the hall of the Grandmasters.
"Quentin." Quentin stopped. "When we fought, near the end. If I hadn't..." He looked up, meeting Quentin's gaze. "Would've you've, gone through with it?"
Quentin did not break eye contact, but he was silent, for a moment.
"You wouldn't have been that selfish."
"But I-"
"You wouldn't."
"But-"
"You. Wouldn't."
Quentin continued on, the topic silently declared over, as he came before-
"The Predator. It was quite a shock, when Masato was finally defeated. Drove the entire world hysterical, at least the way my father tells it. I may have reigned longer than Masato, but he was the first. Somehow, people got the idea Masato could not be overcome. If Michaela accomplished nothing else, she proved there was no wall that could not be broken down, no mountain that could not be climbed over. She proved invincibility to be a myth." He shook his head. "Too bad it went to her head in the end. Everyone wanted to take her down, but who could pull it off? I think she started to believe she was the truly invincible one. Then Andre came to knock her block off. It's a shame, that such achievement was ultimately scorned."
Quentin turned from Michaela's portrait, making way towards the only remaining portrait, the first. "You know, the League just started out as an idea. Like near everything that's become woven into our society, and even like society itself, the League was just an idea." He came to a stop before the portrait. "'Greatness can come from anywhere, the only limit is one's own will.' Masato was born into a world where Pokémon trainers had nearly no structure. Just mostly trainers wandering around, occasionally meeting to fight. There was no gathering, no concentration of strength. But even in that world, strength meant something, so he gathered the strong under him, and got them working. Within a decade Kanto went to no League, to having Gyms, its Elite, and its Grandmaster. By the end of his reign, a bunch of countries had united under his vision, and he found his title elevated. Just an idea, and with his two hands, and his own strength, he made it so. One man's vision has shaped much of our world. He earned his title." He briefly glanced at Ash. "The Architect. It's his legacy we carry, and continue."
"What they'll gonna call me, in the end?"
"That's up to you. They'll choose the words, but you'll define the meaning." He turned to Ash, his gaze meaningful. "At the top, you are always seen. You are always watched. The world below will always watch their Grandmaster. You are their embodiment of strength, of hope, and you will be made to show your worth. They'll heed your every word, so speak to them well. They will watch your every deed, so do them well. They'll watch you fight, they'll even watch you bleed, but never let them see you bleed inside. Never let them see your resolve waver. If you do, then what have they to believe in?"
Great, Quentin just took a title that already felt like it weighed the mass of a planet, and made it a hundred times greater. "Quentin...how do I-How I do not screw this up?"
Quentin smiled, and placed a hand upon Ash's shoulder.
"You'll do fine. Trust me, you will. Your path getting here was rocky, but you're ready. With your crowning, the title has come full circle. The Hall of the Grandmasters has finally come home." Quentin walked past Ash, making way back to the entrance. "Come on, Ash." Ash followed, the four headed to the entrance, and the next event of the evening.
"It's time to sit upon your throne."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
End of Chapter
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Notes: Next chapter the ceremony comes to an end.
Due to the overwhelming number of responses I got from people with outfit suggestions (seriously, people, one response? Thanks by the way, DBZFTW), I pretty much went with the modern Red outfit, with slight adjustments.
If the chapter didn't make it clear, here's the details. Basically the FireRed/LeafGreen Red suit, with black replacing the white on the jacket, gloves instead of writst-bands (Ash's current XY series gloves), and dark blue pants instead of light blue. Ash's also wearing a near-replica of his original (Kanto/Johto) hat (logo missing).
So who named who?
Masato and Quentin are obviously my work, and Ash is whoever at 4kids was in charge of naming characters, as for the rest...
Credit goes to Popopoyotl for naming Callista Viviane.
Credit goes to Sitting on the Event Horizon for naming Michaela Lowca.
Credit to GaruAlpha for naming Andre Dunn.
For those interested, the names I originally intended to use. (in reigning order)
Morgan Luther
Alexander O'Neill
Megumi Kagami
And The titles for each Grandmaster
Masato: The Architect
Michaela: The Predator
Andre: The Sage of Violence
Callista: The Masquerader
Quentin: The Zealot
Ash: Too soon, Grandmaster's get titles as their reigns go on.
(Sad to say, each title has a tale probably none care to hear...)
Character Themes (Because I can, and I love a good Character-dedicated OP)
Masato: Lord of Battle by Bloodbound
Michaela: Elan by Nightwish
Andre: Headstrong by Trapt
Callista: Energy by Fire Tiger
Quentin: Caught in The Middle by DIO
(also just because I can)
Ash: Follow Your Heart by Freedom Call