A Journey

Summary: Ash's daughter has NO interest in Pokemon training. So, Ash, being the enterprising young Master that he is, puts her into the middle of the woods in the night while she's asleep with a pack, no map, a Pokedex, and a VERY angry Pichu.

"Race time!" I yelled to my three Pokemon, and broke into a trot. They stared back at me, most likely wondering if the fresh Hoenn air had caused me to lose my mind.

"C'mon, Chopin! Maestro! Tiny yellow rat!" True to form, Pichu leapt after me with a high-pitched, angry snarl at the insult, and Maestro started loping after Pichu, easily catching up with it, and tackling it to the ground. Rattata were fast; speed, sharp teeth, semi-prehensile hands, and wits were all they had to survive on in the wild, against the ferocious Fearow, the self-defense guru Mankey, and drink from waters inhabited by Slowpoke and Gyrados.

Chopin wasn't as good with the speed; like Pichu, he walked on two legs rather than four. However, watching Chopin attempt to run behind my back probably wasn't the best idea; I ran into another trainer and fell. He was a boy who looked to be around sixteen, with rough, black stubble. His tough image was only shattered by his large glasses.

"Want to battle?" The boy asked, staring calculatingly at me, attempting to judge my strength.

"No," I said, as sweetly as I could manage. Anyone who had been training for six years would cut my Pokemon to shreds.

"It's rude to refuse, you know," the boy said with all of the snootiness he could manage.

"I'm sorry," I said, genuinely sorry, especially since I was breaking league etiquette.

"Aww, eff off," he said with a frown, flashing me his middle finger.

"What a jerk," Brett muttered under his breath after the trainer stalked off.

"Why was he so mean?" Lavender asked, frowning after the boy with something like anger in her eyes.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "Maybe once that stick up his ass comes out, he'll be able to talk about his problems."

Brett laughed, although he cringed slightly at the word 'ass.' No wonder Peter needed to tell him what a 'lesbian' was!

"So, in short," I said to my three Pokemon. "I need to train you. Pichu, your training will be mostly electrical. Maestro, I need to condition you physically. Chopin, I have no idea."

Of course, standing at a thoroughfare in the middle of a city like we were, I soon found out that I had an audience of people, clearly amused, watching me attempt to figure out the initial training.

"Umm, Maestro, you're really fast. Maybe if you run more you'll get faster? No, I don't know." I blanched slightly. Maestro was going to be the easy one, and I was having this much trouble? Maestro's abilities were much like that of an untrained human; if I was attacked in battle, couldn't I tackle, run, bite, and claw too, if not as effectively? On the other hand, I wasn't capable of just firing off the inevitable Thundershock whenever I felt threatened or angry. This would be like me teaching a Pidgey how to fly. It really didn't make sense. I would need help.

I asked Brett, "How do you really train a Pokemon?" He knew a lot, why not this?

"How would I know? I don't bother with the beginning training parts," he scoffed contemptuously.

I turned to Lavender.

"I could show you how to make Pichu look cuter! It would be in the Cute category of contests. No idea about the Kricketune, and Rattata aren't exactly contest Pokemon…" She trailed off, realizing how offensive that comment was. I did as well, and glared.

"I can't help you, sorry," Lavender concluded.

"Argh. How do people just know?"

"If they want to be trainers, I guess they research?" Brett offered.

"That's it," I fumed, and thought for a moment or two. I turned to the nearest person who was watching with amusement. She looked to be at least seventeen. She was wearing red and black, and was distinguishable by a spiked collar she wore, reminding me of guard Pokemon I sometimes saw. It occurred to me I should have asked someone who appeared to have fewer ties to Satan, if her pentagram necklaces and belt motif said anything, but these revelations only came after I asked, fearfully, "Could you help me?"

"With what?" She spat, looking me over as if sizing me up. Her eyes turned to Brett, who instinctively moved behind Lavender. When she saw Lavender, she raised her eyebrows, and an expression of distaste slid onto her face. There was something scorching about her gaze, but Lavender did gaze back for a second before looking down demurely.

"Nice Rattata," she said with a nod to Maestro.

"Thank you, his name is Maestro," I said, wondering why she was impressed by the most common Pokemon. People were either surprised that I had a Sinnoh Pokemon, which were generally uncommon to Hoenn, or mistakenly taken by Pichu's cuteness.

"Did I ask for his name?" She said sharply, turning her ferocious glare on me.

"Will you do everything I say?" She asked nastily, her eyes barely seeming to blink.

"Yes," I said respectfully, fully cowed and intimidated by the terrifying visage before me.

"That's your problem, to start out. What if I gave you shitty advice?" Now she merely looked bemused, and for a second I felt like I understood her.

Lavender, meanwhile, shifted her eyes constantly between me and the scary girl.

"Uhh, Twig?" She whispered quietly, thankfully my name as well. "Are you sure you should trust her?"

"Yes," I said unfailingly. The people I didn't trust were the ones who seemed perfect, I realized in a moment of clarity. Lauren, with her killer strategy and good looks, she could be depended upon-- to be a conniving bitch. Lavender, despite her otherwise perfect niceness and adorableness, was stupid as a newborn Caterpie, and so I trusted her unfailingly. Peter was hot, often kind, and doggedly loyal, and yet he was so conceited. This girl was a scary asshole; how could I not trust her?

"Let me show you my Pokemon, in case you need motivation," the girl said with a laugh, staring at Lavender rather than me. Clearly, she loved Lavender's fear, fed on it even.

"Go, Khuno!" A Noctowl emerged; I recognized it precisely because my father had one, although this one wasn't Shiny. It hooted, and sat on her shoulder, glaring at the world.

"Totora!" A Spinda emerged, making lazy, drunken circles. It was marked by a patch that appeared to be shaped like Africa.

"Yaku!" What emerged appeared to be a steel spider from a nightmare. It had two enormous legs, and it had two angry red eyes which were partially given their fierce expression by a silver 'X' that adorned its face.

"Vagabond!" An enormous black Raticate emerged, and it instantly swung its head to Maestro and hissed. Maestro responded with a cheep.

"It's just vegetable dye. Creeps people out," she said with a wicked smile.

She then wordlessly released a Marowak, and a Ninetales.

"You have good Pokemon," I breathed, staring at the Ninetales especially. She glared back, the compliment meaning nothing to her.

"Because I trained them. Don't go easy. Be ruthless. If you somehow manage to find a trainer with less ability than you, fight them. Beat them. The best skill your Pokemon can learn is cruelty. When they don't go easy, they win. Your Pokemon have all the potential to destroy your enemies, but only if they leave compassion in the dust. You are the compassion, their attacks are the fury, and they are the weapon."

My first thought was 'what the hell?' Then I thought about it. She was right. Pichu didn't go easy, but Maestro did. He tackled Pichu without hurting it. If Maestro could let go of his inhibitions to do violence, if there was no play fighting, only war, then he would be better. If you have hesitations, nothing good will come of it; your enemy might not have hesitations or morals like you do. Wild Pokemon certainly didn't have morals or inhibitions. They knew nothing but death to their enemies and their prey.

Another trainer came up to me. He was the same age as her, and looked a lot alike, with the same small nose, same freckles, and the same auburn hair. He wore blue and yellow.

"I'm Colin. Ignore my twin Lyall. She doesn't know what she's talking about. Let me show you my Pokemon!"

He instantly released a noble Arcanine, its mane flowing in the wind. The Arcanine was less graceful when it bounded over to Colin, who was inches below his Pokemon, and licked him.

Next came a Poliwrath, intimidating and frowning, and yet it still wandered over to Colin, and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

A bird Pokemon came out, and it appeared to be psychically communicating with its owner. "Xatu, do you spend all of your time in the Lux ball thinking of jokes?" He asked aloud, and ruffled its feathers.

Next, a diminutive Bellsprout came out. I wondered why a trainer who could seamlessly raise an Arcanine felt the need to keep a plant which was essentially a weed.

As if answering my mental query, Colin turned to me and answered, "She doesn't want to evolve. Frankly, I'm now inclined to agree. She's much more flexible and acrobatic this way, and can sidestep many attacks."

"Did you just?"

"I'm a Psychic." Colin said, staring at his Pokemon with a beatific smile.

"This is how you train. Not by might, not by power, but by spirit alone, shall your Pokemon prevail. Love your Pokemon, and teach them to love all else. If you love your enemy, then you will know your enemy. If you teach your Pokemon compassion and love, bring out what they already have, they will feel guilt for their actions, they will do more than rage. They will fear, they will be joyous, and that mentally will strengthen them."

I understood this as well. If they were psychologically complex, and didn't just repress their guilt, they would have a greater fortitude of will. If they took the time to respect their opponents rather than just being hell-bent on destruction, they would pick up cues and know how to react.

"The choice is yours, but don't follow my bleeding-heart brother," Lyall snarled. "Look at my Pokemon. Not everyone has Colin's psychic abilities," she said with distaste, "but they turned out all right. Do you really think that encouraging your Pokemon to fear is a particularly nice thing to do? Confusion comes from ambiguity, and that's all my brother is suggesting. You love your Pokemon? Do you want them to get hurt? I don't. I would give my life for Vagabond, but it wouldn't save him. On the other hand, teaching him to be prepared to take a life? Pokemon can be vicious, but even more so for people. Don't let your Pokemon wallow in their confusion. You don't like confusion, do you? My Pokemon have never been Confused, because that in a battle, all they do is try to kill. No exceptions. If you love your Pokemon, you'll make them strong, give them the joy of battling unshackled by guilt."

"The choice is yours. Will you force your Pokemon to become soldiers?" Colin said mildly.

"My Pokemon are NOT soldiers!" Lyall screamed. She seemed almost ready to jump onto Colin.

"The choice is yours," they both said at once, turning to me. I blinked.

"There's no third option?" I pleaded perhaps a bit pathetically.

"Is there ever a third option?" Colin asked in an amused voice which dripped with sympathy.

"This is really strange," I mused, wondering how all this started. I looked around me for Lavender and Brett, but both of them were gone.

"What's strange?" Lyall asked, placing a long hand on my shoulder, squeezing it.

"This is," I said. "Why is this a choice? Can I really choose now?"

"Can you go without choosing now?" Colin asked, blinking lightly.

"Maybe?" I said, unsure what the right answer was.

"This reality doesn't even exist," Lyall hissed harshly. "You think it matters what you choose here? Just pick my way." The last was whispered in a voice half pleading, half seductive.

"Everything really exists, deep down far enough," Colin said.

"Am I…asleep again?" I asked. Maybe that made sense. But what was real, what wasn't? I wasn't dreaming this whole day, was I? When did dream begin and wakefulness end?

"Sucks, doesn't it, not knowing what's real and what's fake?" Lyall said. "If you were a Pokemon told at once to be merciless in battle and compassionate in all else, life is like that."

"I don't know what to believe," I said. "This can't be a dream. If it was a dream, I would be awake by now."

"Not really." Colin said. "You're not well."

"A person is doing this to you." Lyall hissed.

"You're suspicious, aren't you, so ready to blame others?" I said, starting to get annoyed at her. "You know what; maybe my Pokemon will be able to separate their battling and normal lives! They can be fierce and kind. I trust them. And you know what? If it doesn't work, then by all means, I will try your plan, Lyall. I will venerate you in a god-damned shrine! Colin, I'll try your way for my first big battle; I guess I'll do a gym battle. Your hippy optimism will prevail by that battle, or I'll start to follow the cult of the Queen of Darkness over there, right?"
"Sounds good," both said at once. Colin laughed, and Lyall glared at him.

"About time to get out of this damned dream," Lyall said in my own voice.

"Yeah, ditto that," Colin said with a grin, also in my voice.

"You must have narcolepsy," Lyall said, but her eyed didn't flash with their usual hate- only concern. And she spoke with the deep, comforting voice of a tall dark-skinned man with a goatee. Wait, how did I?