Ash hadn't spoken in almost a week. He couldn't. Every time he tried, something inside of him revolted and he got physically sick.
On the plus side, Wally, Paul, and Gary had been amazing, letting him direct their path without question. He'd gotten to cuddle with Wally, battle with Paul, and work in silence with Gary.
On the negative side, he still had to tell Gary about the emails, and Paul still had no idea that Reggie had most likely been aware of his coming death long before he entered his watery tomb. He still had to figure out why they had really been targeted, who all knew what was going to happen, and, most importantly, why no one stopped it.
His only theory, which he hoped to hell was wrong, was that it was a League sanctioned slaughter.
But why? Why would the League want to dispose of so many people? The answer to that came in the middle of the night, when he was staring up at the stars. All of those on the cruise ship had been specifically chosen, and, since it was an invitation only exclusive trip, from all across the world, well. The only thing that made sense was if each League chose a certain number of people that no longer lived up to their beliefs, but were too powerful or well liked to be left alive. They couldn't risk a revolution, or a war. It was the only thing that made sense.
Ash hated to think about it, but it was the only thing that made sense. He had always liked numbers, but these made him change his mind.
3,308. That was the official number of people aboard the SS Alice. Of them, only 637 passengers and crew managed to survive. Of those who did, because of the secondary bombing, the number had been reduced again.
Of the 3,308 people who boarded the ship, only 144 were left alive. Numbers wise, it meant that only 4.35% of the original list survived.
Six days after the SS Alice sank, even more of those who had survived originally had succumbed to their injuries, leaving the survivor list at 112 people, or 3.39% of the people who had been on board. Most of them were either vendors or underage, but none of the most well-known, respected names had survived.
Thankfully, the numbers seemed to stabilize a bit, but Ash, at least, had to wonder how many of those who had been hurt had their deaths helped along by an outside source.
When the list of those lost at sea was published, he'd fought with himself for hours, trying to decide between knowing and wanting to stay ignorant. And yet, when he looked, he found an even more disturbing trend. Every single region had lost one of their Gym leaders. Even Kanto, who now had to deal with Celedon City no longer having Erika, wasn't unaffected.
Along with those, five Pokémon Professors had lost their lives to the sea, as well as a dozen or so of the most well known breeders, researchers, and trainers.
The numbers didn't lie.
Someone, or a lot of people, had decided that this needed to be done. And, he thought dully, there was a decent chance that someone would clean up any remaining survivors, too.
Paving the way for a New Society. That was the mantra the Controllers were known for, their names already spreading like a blast burn through Kanto, and beyond.
If any of them had a chance at survival, they needed to be strong. Smart. Untraceable.
He could be wrong, of course. Maybe the Controllers were an independent group, who saw the cruise as a prime target. Maybe the Leagues of the world would hunt the group down, as revenge for the deaths. Maybe the survivors would be safe.
How much, he wondered, would he be willing to bet on being wrong?
He huffed out a breath of frustration. It felt like he was in a chess game, playing black, with no idea who he was playing against. No, that wasn't right. He was a pawn for the black side, something that could be useful, but could also be sacrificed without much thought. He needed to get stronger.
On top of that... disaster, he'd done some research on Human-Pokémon manufactured hybrids. He'd been hoping, praying to Arceus, that he was just delusional, that his time out of body was just a dream. But no.
It wasn't much, and he'd left Ace looking all night, but the Pokémon had found that an interesting, if not suspiciously lacking in details, by a man named Dr. Eligor A. Zagan.
Obviously, he didn't know anything for sure, but the man hypothesized that certain people were genetically predisposed to certain types of Pokémon. According to Zagan, it might be possible for someone to naturally take on certain aspects of Pokémon. That had brought Salix's words back to the front of his mind.
Salix had said that he was lucky, that he had the potential to be a psychic anyways, so being combined hadn't killed him. But, while he was trying not to think about what his brother's body had become, he did wonder exactly how did they know Salix had that potential? What made them think that it was even possible?
And, well, if Ash was ever caught, did he too have the potential to survive? He wasn't drawn to one particular type over another, like the people Zagan said could show the traits. His team was...
Well, he'd chosen King. The rest of them just fell into his lap. Queen, Rook, and Bishop were a prize, but they had become important in a way he'd never guessed was possible. Knight, Pawn, and Ace had been given to him in hopes of increasing his chances of survival.
Zagan, though, wasn't associated with any particular company, but with Pokémon Tech, the best college in Kanto. While a lot of details about the man fit, Sal had specifically told him that the people who hurt them were their dad's ex coworkers. But their father had never worked for Pokémon Tech, of any of the companies that partnered with it. He'd worked for the League, but they were pretty well separated.
Which meant that he could be wasting his time looking into Zagan. This was probably a dead end, but he had to know for sure that the man wasn't involved. Guilty until proven innocent. He knew it was supposed to be the other way around, but, considering his families history, and his dream, well, he figured being paranoid was a useful thing.
He needed definitive answers before he was willing to believe anything anyone said. If he was wrong, then he'd move onto the next lead, and find out who his dads old coworkers were, and where they were. But if he was right...
Was he being too harsh? When it came to his team, Ash become somewhat of a harsh taskmaster, making his team walk, or fly, for hours when they traveled to build up stamina. When they stopped for the night, half of them would help with setting up camp, and the other half would start a three way battle royal to see who got to go first against Paul.
None of the others seemed to know why he was working so hard, or why he'd decided to camp on the outskirts of the forest instead of returning to his mothers house once they got back to Pallet Town. He knew that he needed to talk to them, and soon, but he just didn't know what to say.
'I've got proof that at least one, if not most of the big names on the ship were killed on purpose. And the people who went to stop the bomb? The ones who failed? Yeah, they probably weren't trying to stop it. Sorry, Gary. Your Gramps knowingly led us to the ship, and yes, he knew that a lot of people would die. Why? To save your sister of course. Oh, no, she was dead before we got our starters, so we were going to be sacrificed for nothing.'
'Sorry, Wally. I know you were close with Norman, and his family, but he probably knew that pretty much everyone was going to die when he invited you along. No, I don't know why the man who helped you get your first Pokémon didn't try to stop his family, or you, from getting on that cursed boat.'
'Hey, Paul, just so you know, I'm pretty sure your brother knew what was going to happen before he got on the ship. Proof? Well, here's the emails that prove Professor Oak knew for sure, but I'm basing my guess off of the fact that your brother had set aside the Pokémon he did in hopes that all four of us would be able to keep ourselves safe. Kind of suspicious, no? Why didn't he stop us from boarding? Who knows.'
Yeah. No. He wasn't doing that. They absolutely deserved the truth. But, it would hurt them. Especially because the only people who had the answers of why they had done it were dead.
It wasn't like he didn't realize just how fucked up it was. He'd found proof on the second day that his mom had known as well. She'd even replied to the threat with the words 'Come and get me, if you dare.' Delia Ketchum had known damn well what was going to happen, but she'd still allowed her son to come with her. That lovely realization had stung worse than the first time she'd slapped him.
He was being cowardly, he knew it. He knew he had to tell the others what he'd found. No matter how badly he didn't want to.
Groaning silently, he moved King off of his lap and forced himself up off of the hard, ground. Funny enough, Queen was wrapped around his neck like a scarf, and hadn't really moved all day, perhaps sensing that her trainer needed time. The rest of his team was spred out around the campsite, happy to do their own things while he got lost in thought.
It was getting late, and the other three had been staying at Gary's home. They were supposed to have dinner an hour ago, but Ash hadn't been able to get the motivation to move. He was pretty sure Gary, Wally, and Paul were going through the list of the professors Pokémon, and Ash's own parents teams, to see if there were any that they wanted, or any that couldn't be released.
As much as Gary had been wanting to go on a journey to become a Pokémon Master, strategically, it made more sense to take on strong, rare, or difficult to counter teams that weren't common around here. Both Wally and Paul agreed with that, if there was a way to get their revenge faster, even if they didn't like it, they would take it.
And so would Ash. His own, personal, comforts didn't matter as much to him as his two goals did. If he'd have a better chance of burning down the people who had changed his brother, then he'd put up with having a larger team. If he could find, and destroy, the people who had taken so many of the lives on the SS Alice, he'd let himself collect every single Pokémon in existence.
The whole journey wasn't about getting badges, or winning the league anymore. It was about countering dangerous, evil individuals, and to do it, he needed power. His team wasn't good, yet, but eventually they would grow. And yet. The seven of them wouldn't be enough. Not if he wanted to take down two different organizations.
No. If he wanted to tear them down, brick by brick, he'd need more. He'd need to take the Leagues rules and crush them under his foot. He needed to be strong enough to keep himself, and his friends, safe.
Which meant more Pokémon. Seeing as he'd already had seven, and had managed them pretty well, he knew exactly what would give him an edge. A ghost.
Delia herself had never really liked ghost type Pokémon, which was fine, but they were perfect for gathering information, spying, or keeping guard. On the flip side, Agatha was living proof that they could be monstrous under the right conditions. They were difficult to counter if one wasn't prepared. Frigibax wouldn't be a bad idea either.
He knew the Professor had gained a wide variety of Pokémon over the years. With some luck, the four of them would be able to make their move soon.
One game at a time, he reminded himself. Salix needed to be rescued first, but to do that, he needed to prove the other wrong. For that to happen, he needed the help of the others, which meant that it was time to tell them exactly what he been doing, and thinking, since their lives were almost ended.
He really hoped that, once he presented his case, the other three would tell him he was wrong. He wanted to be wrong.
The familiar walk soothed him. This was his home. This was the place he'd spent over a decade learning how to navigate. He'd grown up wandering these roads, and in a few days, they'd be setting out for possibly the last time, from these very paths.
He wanted to tell his team about the adventures he'd had here, and how it shaped who he was becoming, but he couldn't bring himself to speak yet. He'd use up all of his words without explaining a single thing to his friends.
Every step towards that familiar old house was its own type of agony, causing grief to well in his chest. Everything was so different now.
How long had it been since he was last here, walking back with Professor Oak after spending the day helping him around the ranch? How had he felt so safe with that man?
It felt like he was being forced to look at his memories through a different perspective. How much of the safety that he associated with Pallet Town was actually real, and how much of it was an illusion? If they'd been attacked, would the Professor have protected him?
He didn't know, he didn't want to know. Maybe that was a part of growing up, he wondered to himself. He couldn't sulk forever, as his mother used to say. He'd been stupid enough to ask the questions, so he might as well pay the toll.