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.
I opened my eyes.
"Pardon me?"
"I'm sorry. Your brain scans showed a slight drop in activity, so I figured you were waking up. You have hypnagogic narcolepsy."
"Dropped?" I asked questioningly.
"The human brain during dream sleep is slightly more active than the awake brain. During non-dream sleep, your brain waves become very slow, however. Have you noticed yourself being very sleepy?"
"Yeah, I normally am, but I go through it; it's not worse than other people, is it?"
"It probably is, honey. Your narcolepsy means that due to a brain issue, you will occasionally fall straight into REM, dream sleep out of nowhere. These sleep attacks are physically irresistible. This has happened to you before, right? First reality, then all of a sudden the world around you will change?"
"I guess so," I thought, thinking of the gradual shift from the real to the absurd in my last episode, or the time when I dreamt Chopin talked to me. I thought those were the drugs that first time, however. Or was this even real? Usually in my dreams, I was secluded. That's why the first indication that something was up was that Brett and Lavender had mysteriously disappeared. And here I was, seemingly alone with this unfamiliar figure.
"Are you real?" I asked hesitantly.
"Of course. Do you need proof?"
"Sure, why not?" I asked.
"Alright." He said, and his face settled into a pleasant, unfocused expression, and he leaned against another examining table in the room and did not move.
I watched him, looking for even the slightest twitch in his features, but nothing came.
"So I am dreaming?" I asked.
No response came from that corner, so my hands went to my belt. I called out Pichu.
"Hey, Pichu. I have a brain disorder that makes me fall into my dreams randomly. I will lapse in and out of reality often. That guy over there is frozen. Are you real or not?"
Pichu looked at me very quizzically, then jumped onto my head almost affectionately.
"Damn it, I must be dreaming," I said, realizing that everything that the man said about me having narcolepsy must be a dream also. Pichu wasn't shocking me; this couldn't be reality, could it?
However, relief and pain flooded through my body all at once as Pichu released a thundershock at me.
"Is that proof?" The man asked, coming up from stillness again. "I reiterate- this is not a dream. However, some of what would normally seem like your waking life might be. The biggest problem for some narcoleptics is that ones with unimaginative dreams are confounded by the fact that their dreams are every bit as realistic as real life. Your brain must be a doozy though; from what I've been told, your dreams actually keep you in the same setting for a while before going crazy on you. It might be hard to pinpoint the exact moment when reality turns into dreams. These episodes can last anywhere from moments to hours." The doctor said with a frown.
"And there is no cure?" I asked.
"Modern science has yet to achieve this. Modern science takes a very Pokemon-centric view, if you haven't noticed." The doctor said, scorn pervading his voice. "Since Pokemon fight and therefore become injured much more often, there are three times as many Centers as hospitals." I knew that hospitals weren't common, but before that, it hadn't been a problem; I led a safe life, and everyone knew basic first aid. Now, however, realizing that my life could be at stake, I was less impressed by this state of affairs.
"My recommendation would be to get a Psychic Pokemon. After a while, they'd notice the shift in your brainwaves from full consciousness to your REM episodes, although it will happen in a matter of seconds. If they could predict your hypnagogic shifts, they could levitate you to a safer place. Your Pichu can try a light shock to attempt to revive you, but that could move into full-on catalepsy if done wrong, so it must become very skilled with its electricity before it attempts to do so."
"Where am I?" I asked finally, wondering why I was alone with the doctor. Where were Brett and Lavender?
"You're in Rustboro City. The people with you told me to tell you that they were heading to Route 104, and to meet them at the Center." The doctor said. I was a bit offended to say the least. After that seductress Lauren had finally returned our Peter to us, couldn't all of them, minus Lauren, come to visit me here?
"Thank you," I said icily. "So can I just leave now or what?" Well, Lavender was stupid, and Brett was ten, an immature ten. Maybe they didn't realize that leaving a convalescent to go wait for our leader was a bit rude.
"I can't do anything more for you," the doctor said, nearly fuming. "I wish I could. Get a Psychic Pokemon, and make sure your Pokemon know that if you slump to the ground unconscious, unable to move, and if your eyes are flickering, that you are asleep, and that it will be very hard, if not impossible, to wake you up. They have to let it run its course. If you're traveling in a group, you might want to get a Pokemon big enough to carry you if their progress can't be hindered." And it clearly can't, I thought with a roll of my eyes; Brett and Lavender's desertion was proof of that.
I got up from an infirmary surface (first time: hospital bed, second time: examination table) for the second time in a week. What right did my dad have to send me out into the cold, scary world? When I was sick, no less?
"You don't know my name," I told the doctor, more confident on my legs this time I got up, although thankful I just awoke from a dream, not a coma.
"I do, Twig. We have no legal inter-regional system of medical filing, but you are famous."
"I didn't want to train," I told the medical professional. He was the first one I told. It didn't make me feel any better, but it didn't make me feel any worse.
"I know. It's famous amongst the professional circuit."
"Can you help me home?"
"It's also famous amongst the inter-regional transportation circuit. You will have extreme difficulty finding your way home. He has blocked such agencies from selling you tickets." The doctor said, staring into my face, gauging my reaction.
My face crumpled in an instant, like an airbag upon impact. My cry must have sounded a bit like a thunderclap, but the doctor wasn't taken aback.
I had always clung to the hope that I could just train here in Hoenn for a while, and afford the tickets. I now realized the only reason I got here from Sinnoh in the first place; I didn't look like myself, climbing onto the boat disoriented, perhaps my hair matted, with a ticket that wasn't in my name. The ticket booked by that Claudia Pense, the woman with the blonde hair who helped me so much, was it booked with identification? My father was the Pokemon Master; could he seriously stop me from going home other than—on a strong water Pokemon? A very strong water Pokemon. I would have to find and train a Pokemon strong enough to cross the Ocean from Hoenn into Johto. The railroad between Johto and Kanto was probably barred from my access as well; I would either have to walk through the rail tunnel in between the mountains that separated the continents, risking electrocution, or I would have to find an Ice and a Fire Pokemon, one to withstand the cold of the mountain range, one to warm up everyone else. Worse, unless I could convince the others to also follow my unconventional path, I would be doing this alone.