Autumn Regionals, The 42nd. [4 Years Pre-Present]
"Ash, just stop." were her last words to him.
Nearly a year before, under a quiet, snow-covered bridge, these were the very same last words she had given to him. Though at that time, she had told it to him with tears in her eyes. Now, within the warm and welcoming glow of a luxurious restaurant, she had said it with a dry, vicious glare.
She turned and left, flowing back into cheerful airs of the reunion party, ignoring the man behind her completely.
Ash stood still in the darkened corner, abandoned with his failed attempt to tell her once more. Since the end of last year's Roads Travelled Reunion, Ash had tried repeatedly to warn Dawn about Tracey's self-destructive behavior. Tried, and failed miserably.
Dawn would not hear of it. Her nature to nurture, her mindset of nothing being an impossibility, and the honest ideals she held in people and their efforts prevented her from agreeing with his negative impression of the Sketch Artist. To her, Ash was just 'another one of the others' - the 'others' that would carelessly bully Tracey and step on his dreams for their own selfish reasonings. The excuses Ash made in his defense were almost convincing enough, if it were not for the fact that Ash himself had never gone through what Tracey had to.
Admittedly, Dawn was just as guilty of that inexperience, but Dawn was a witness to many loved ones who suffered under the same roads that Tracey travelled. Even when compared to them, Tracey had suffered far worse in life. And she despised that people would dismiss his troubles entirely for their own convenient excuses.
She despised Ash now, though she never openly showed it around others. The boy from Pallet Town was near and dear to her heart, but his immature sense of the world made him blind to those he should have obviously empathized with. She had tried to convince him, tried to negotiate with him, but nothing bore fruit in her efforts. All she could do was prevent herself from yelling at his ignorance and build up her patience.
Tracey was not 'living an illusion', as Ash described it. Tracey, in her intimate understanding of him, was hiding behind one, to help him better cope with the life he didn't deserve. In time, she was sure she could get him to come out from his hideaway and live a new life free from such troubles. And in the year's time she spent with him, she had accomplished that goal to a great degree. Within her company, Tracey was a happy, youthful man, filled with fascinating inspirations and endless talent. He had a lot to offer the world. And she was glad to assist in his offerings.
She loved him. Greatly. A relationship that had started in an awkward meeting nearly a year before, with him stumbling into a room, weeping... had grown into a shared life of satisfying laughs and smiles. She was happy with him, and he was happy with her. There was nothing more and nothing less to be said in the wonderful relationship that they held. The look of disagreements the others gave them, the murmured gossip the others held behind their back, she never gave a care to. Their life was as perfect as it should have been, and no one could take that away from them. Not even Ash.
Dawn flinched. The smile she was giving to an old friend in the Reunion nearly broke. She had been listening intently to the new strategies May came up with as a Coordinator, when the subconscious thought of Ash drifting further away from her struck at her heart. The last thing she wanted was for them to never speak to each other again. But the last thing she could stand were his biting words. She wanted to ignore that idiotic bitterness, to go back and apologize, to change the subject, and simply get them back to being close friends.
Before she could break, Tracey walked up next to her and nudged her childishly with his shoulder. She bounced a step away. The action made her smile. She nudged back. It was a simple action, with simple meanings, but it had been enough to reaffirm her decision. Her prior sympathies vanished. For Tracey, she would not apologize to Ash. Ash, in time, would come to see the real worth of their relationship. He would see that he was simply being stubborn over trivial concerns. And maybe one day he would apologize to her. Until that time came, she would rather spend every day with Tracey happily and merrily, without disruption, and without worry.
Ash gazed on as Dawn's figure disappeared into the colorful crowds with Tracey. A strange feeling inside his chest churned. He couldn't fathom what that feeling was, but it made him yearn to cry. He rubbed his eyes quickly, denying himself the unwarranted tears.
There was no reason to cry. Ash knew he wouldn't have been able to convince Dawn. Not with words, at least. He was terrible with words, while Dawn was a master with her words. She was able to touch on intimate meanings with intuitively simple phrases. He could only bumble with his words, losing their intentions quickly whenever it came to serious conversations. It was practically impossible for him to win in an argument against her. And in that knowledge, there was no reason to be upset over an expected outcome.
He could only try again some other day.
"I'm sorry..." Serena whispered. She slid out from behind a thick curtain, near to where Dawn and Ash had stood just moments before. Her appearance revealed that she had been eavesdropping since the beginning of their private conversation. And the guilt in her eyes only showed her regret in what she had overheard.
Ash paid her intrusion no mind. He had known that she would pop out sometime, somewhere. Serena was always close by him these days. He shook his head without annoyance or judgment. "What are you sorry for? It's my fault that I'm this bad with words."
Serena stopped her fingers from reaching him. She gripped them firmly around the trailing edges of the curtain, distracting her from the yearnings in her heart. "Ash... She's very dear to you, isn't she?" Though nothing could hide those yearnings from her quaking voice.
"She's my friend." Ash answered simply and without further thought, holding no assumptions over her tone or intentions, "A friend that travelled with me for so long that I still think she's there when I wake up."
Her grip squeezed tighter around the curtain, threatening to pull it from its railing. "No... that's not it." her voice shook with every syllable, "You don't have to lie, Ash. She's more than just that to you. Your fake smile really does give it away. It's the same fake smile she has on right now. You mean as much to her... But she can't bring herself to say it either."
"Maybe she's like me and can't really put these things into words." He laughed poorly. "I'm better at battling than any of that stuff, sadly."
"You can always try talking to her with a battle, you know... Settling things with your pokémon's moves and attacks rather than with these stupid, clumsy words." her suggestion followed with a shake of her own head, disappointed in herself.
"I don't think she'd understand me if I spoke that way. She's a Coordinator. And I'm a Trainer. We think about these things differently, I think."
"It never hurts to try..."
"I suppose not." He sighed, finding her words convincing enough - though ignorant of its hidden meanings. After a long pause, Ash nodded himself, and took a step forward. With a deep breath, he broke out into a run. From the corner of the restaurant he had held his private conversations in, into the bustling centers where the majority of the guests walked, chatted, sat, ate, and danced, Ash sped down a closing walkway that he knew would lead him straight to his target. Pushing aside and excusing himself through the flood of familiar faces, Ash quickly scanned through the stream of bright colors for a combination that only perfectly fit one person - long, shining blue hair and sparkling blue eyes, features that belonged to and were held wonderfully by the Coordinator "Dawn!" he shouted.
The Coordinator froze.
Tracey, beside her, turned and gave the caller a curious stare. Those nearby did the same. But the one called did not dare to move.
"Dawn!" Ash shouted again, catching his breath. "I challenge you to a Pokémon Battle!"
"Uhm, Ash? This place doesn't allow pokémon in the premises." Tracey mentioned with a strange laugh.
"Yeah, Ash. What's with you always choosing places that don't allow pokémon?" Duplica whined at the side.
"I - I don't do it on purpose!" Ash awkwardly defended, thrown off of his determined emotions, "They're just the only places with enough seats for all of us. A-Anyways, we don't actually have to battle right here, right now. We can go outside and -"
"Ash, enough!"
Her shout was far louder than his. And its volume had silenced the entire convention.
People turned and shuffled around each other, attempting to see what trouble was occurring. Chairs and tables were quietly moved, stairs were climbed, and toes were tipped. Everyone had wanted a better vantage point for the drama that was unfolding.
At an odd section of the massive restaurant, an 'ex-girlfriend' of Ash's stood, turned away from him. And behind her, several steps away, Ash stood alone in an open gap, awkwardly, yet fittingly, holding a poké ball.
Without paying any of them mind or thought, Dawn spoke, "That's enough, Ash. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of you bringing it up at every chance you get. Just admit to yourself that you're being stubborn and immature about this. Or at least have the decency to stay quiet long enough to see which of us really is right about this. There's no need for you to constantly meddle yourself into things that you have no right to bother. That you have no reason to bother. We're happy together. Isn't that enough? Isn't that what matters most? If troubles come, they come. And we'll be there to fix it. If we fail, then so be it. But you can't keep preventing us from simply trying. You can't keep saying that you know how this ends just because no one's ever had the chance to see it through. Just be happy for me, or be tolerant of me as I see it to the end. Stay as my friend. Stop trying to make it so that we're enemies. Don't make such a big deal over it that we might have to part ways over it. Please. I beg you."
Tracey reached out to her in concern, only to be stopped by her side step. Dawn wanted to solve this herself, and he knew it was best to leave her to it. Whatever 'it' was.
"I... I'm just challenging you to a battle." Ash said with a tried friendly tone. Inside, the feeling in his chest was burning, and it made his stomach feel utterly sick. "Just one battle is all we need to have. A one-on-one. No time limi-"
Ash's words stopped with Dawn's slap. She glared furiously at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her chest ached and legs felt weak, but she held her adamant posture of authority. For her own sake. For his sake. "Stop it! Tracey is not in denial!" she screamed.
The screamed words brought everything to a halt. Whispers and murmurs disappeared. Curious stares were turned away. Only the sound of crying could be heard.
Tracey had ran out of the restaurant, sobbing.
"Look what you've done!" Dawn spat furiously. She pounded her fist repeatedly into Ash's chest before turning around and running after Tracey. "I don't want to battle you! I don't want to talk to you! I don't ever want to see you again!" she yelled as she stormed out the door.
Ash stayed where he was, holding the same posture and stance he stood in when he had first challenged the Coordinator - his face still turned from the unexpected slap. "No... time limit. No... substitutions." he finished his verbal challenge in a weak whisper. The poké ball in his hand fell to the marbled floor below. Its clacking bounce echoed loudly throughout the room.
Spring Regionals, The 14th. [Present Year]
"Golden Silver Cup Semi-Final Match. Ash of Pallet Town, Kanto, versus Dawn of Twinleaf Town, Sinnoh. Trainers, you will be given five minutes to prepare before the match begins."
The loudspeaker's voice hardly held the same flare and energy that it had spoken with the day before. It was assumed that the announcer's favoritism over Ash and Dawn had been severely discouraged by his employers - forcing him to return to an unnaturally professional distance for the remainder of the matches.
Despite this tone-down, the audience still roared with impossible excitement.
A herald of voices chanted Ash's name repeatedly with undying vigor. A chorus of voices sang out Dawn's name in harmony with unyielding adoration. The match between the 'Legendary' Trainer and the celebrated Coordinator had been looked forward to by competitors, audiences, and fans alike with impatient eagerness since the beginning of the tournament.
Though the battle yesterday was considered by many as a coincidence 'made by Fate', today's battle was seen as a beautiful moment in Destiny - a Fate shaped by the two who faced each other in the arena. Everyone in the audience had come to know of the two's history as partners - its stories passed along the crowds from the few that personally witnessed the events themselves. And the influence of such stories and rumors only served to bring their expected exhilarations to a fever-pitch.
Below the thundering cheers, however, the atmosphere felt between the two contestants was entirely different, almost bitterly opposite.
Ash crouched over his backpack and sorted through the poké balls he brought with him. Silently judging which would be best for the battle to come, he kept his attentions towards the floor, never raising it to acknowledge his foe.
His 'foe' stood several paces away. Her pokémon already chosen and readied, she was left with time to watch over Ash, with painful desires. She wanted him to look up. To look her in the eyes. To say something. Anything. Instead, he had remained quiet, unwilling, uncaring. The emotional and mental distance he kept between them thrashed at her chest. There were so many things she wanted to tell him at this moment. So many things she wanted to hear from him. And it was because of those many things that she had worked hard to be able to enter this tournament.
Four years ago, Ash had challenged Dawn to a battle in order to tell her something he couldn't correctly put into words, something she couldn't quite understand back then. She had refused then. Out of fear, out of insecurity, out of pride, and out of care, she had refused to listen to his unspoken words. The battle never occurred. But today, four years after his challenge, she was ready to listen. She had spent the last year preparing her heart to listen. In the battle to come, she would leave herself open to everything he ever had to say. And in their battle, she would respond.
But before all that, she dearly wished for him to look up at her.
Granting her wish, Ash looked up. His eyes were tired, and that was all. No other emotions showed in his once expressive eyes. He refused them from showing, knowing that they would be misinterpreted by Dawn's piercing gaze. In his failed words and actions, he had come to realize that he was terrible at communicating with others. If anything were to speak for him now, it would be the battle ahead. But before that matter could be settled, he wanted to see Dawn once more. For who she was, at face value.
The Coordinator had changed with age. He once knew her as a young girl that dressed herself up, and took extra time in caring for herself, in order to become what she had always wanted to be. Over time, she became a young woman who cared less of trying to become someone, and focused more on being who she already was - though even then, she still dressed to impress. Years later, he would come to know her as a woman of astounding beauty. No longer seeking to become a kind, mature, and respected woman - she had become one entirely on her own. And her outer appearance had showed it perfectly. There was no longer a need to dress to impress, as her impression had become permanent in anyone who laid eyes on her.
The cover of the book had finally matched its contents.
No similar conclusions could be held now, however. Presently, the woman in front of him was significant in her unimpressiveness and very strange to look at.
The design cap on her head, the patterned shirt and pants she wore, the colors and combination they were in - unnervingly matched the outfit he had worn in their adventures together. Her hair was messied and dulled, her posture was unsured, and her worrying eyes lacked the bright confidence that she once owned. Who this person was, Ash wasn't entirely sure. By face value, it was Dawn. But who Dawn had become during their time away from one another, he was a stranger to.
May had told him that Coordinators spoke their intentions through their clothes. And it was clear that Dawn was trying to communicate something important to him now. But he was no Coordinator, and its meaning was lost to him entirely. He wondered if their battle would produce the same results... Dawn was no Trainer. Would she be able to understand his words through his pokémon's attacks?
There was only one way to be sure.
"From a raffle, the battle's rules and restrictions have been chosen. This match will be a Single Pokémon Match, with no Time Limit, and no Substitutions. When a Trainer's pokémon is judged no longer fit to battle, the match point and victory will go to their opponent. ... Trainers, your preparation period is over. Select a single pokémon and call it onto the field. ... Golden Silver Cup, Semi-Final Match. Ash versus Dawn. Begin."
"Pikachu!"
"Empoleon!"
"I choose you!" the two shouted in unison.
"I don't get it! He had every advantage over me! He dodged every attack! He tricked me several times into thinking I stood a chance! But he was just toying around with me! Making sure I couldn't ever get a grip during the battle! But he didn't even try to dodge that last attack... He didn't even bother to. He saw it coming before it even happened, but he didn't do anything at all... Why! I don't get it! I tried to understand him! I tried really hard! But I just don't get it! I couldn't read anything he was trying to tell me!" Dawn sobbed loudly, pressing her forehead firmly against the video phone's camera. "I don't understand any of it at all, May... What was he trying to tell me? I can't understand him. I just can't. No matter how hard I try. What in the world was he trying to tell me all these years? You talk to him all the time. More than anyone else. You know what it is, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
Dawn quickly pulled herself away from the camera and stared half-furiously at the monitor. May's concerned, yet too-knowing, face frowned back at her. "Th-Then tell me what it is! He won't tell me! He won't talk to me! Even after the battle, he refused to look at me! I don't get it! I can't take standing in the dark anymore, May! Tell me, please!"
"Why else would I have called you?" May sighed and adjusted herself on the couch. Pouring herself a glass of soda, the Coordinator took a sip and closed her eyes. With a deep, nervous breath, she began what she he had practiced in the mirror for hours the night before, "The thing is, Dawn, Ash -"