What have we here? A new story from yours truly? But what about Adventures in Alola?!

Yeah, I know. The explanation for that is at the end of this story. If you don't want to read this and just want an update, go ahead and skip to the end.

As for the rest of your...enjoy!

Delia Ketchum sighed as she pulled up and parked in her home driveway. It had been a long day at Pallet House: business as usual for the single mother running Pallet Town's only restaurant. Not that the business was ever overwhelming, but there were some days where everything just wore her out. Today happened to be one such day, and anyone who knew Delia's living situation and what happened today knew why she was worn out.

It wasn't her choice to be a single mother. She'd fallen in love, married, and then found herself alone once again rather quickly. But then, she wasn't truly alone. Before he'd left her, her husband left her with one beautiful gift: a new life growing inside her. That life was her son, and he was the most beautiful thing she had in her otherwise busy life. He might have been quite the troublemaker, earning himself harsh discipline at times, but she loved him dearly and would do anything for him.

Whenever he'd ask about his father, she simply told him the truth: that he was a Pokemon trainer on his own journey. To her dismay, this made him want to be a trainer, too. He spent his days dreaming of becoming the world's greatest Pokemon Master and catching every Pokemon in the world. When he wasn't causing her trouble with his innocent, childish pranks, he acted unbelievably adorable when talking about what he'd do when he became the greatest Pokemon Master.

But those dreams of his also filled Delia with sadness. His father had talked about the same dream, and he had yet to return. She wondered if her son wanted to be a Pokemon Master because he wanted his dad to find him one day. She wondered what would happen to her if he left to be a trainer. Would he ever come back? Would he remember her? Would he still love her the way she loved him? Or would he be just like his father, leaving her all alone and never coming back?

These thoughts haunted her, and so she decided that if her son would become a trainer, she would ask him to come home every now and then for a visit. She didn't want to lose him, too. But more importantly, she wanted him to understand the importance of family. No matter where he went or how far he'd go, she wanted him to understand that if there would ever be a time when he felt lost, alone, and had no one to turn to, she would always be there. Whether she was a shoulder to cry on when he was sad, a source of comfort when he was lonely, or a spring of wisdom when he was confused, she would be there for him, no matter what.

And one day, if he found someone special in his life – as she had found someone special in hers – then she wanted him to be better to her than his father was to herself. She didn't want him to leave her alone to raise a child while he chased a far-off dream that might never come true. She wanted him to understand that family is more than being related or having a marriage contract. Family was home. But more importantly, family was a responsibility. If he couldn't care for that special someone in his life, then he didn't deserve her any more than her husband deserved Delia. If she could instill this way of thinking in him, she knew he would find happiness.

A loud shattering sound from inside her house snapped her out of her gloomy reverie. She subsequently her glass getting swept across the floor.

"Oh no," she moaned to herself. "What did he break this time?" She put the car in park, stepped out, and walked to her front door. When she opened it, the first thing she noticed was how suddenly quiet everything was. Her son, being the naughty little prankster that he was, would usually be doing something sneaky right about now and trying to hide it. Of course, he was terrible at it, so he always got caught when she got home. Yet the house was completely silent.

"Hello?" she called with a smile. "Is anybody home?" There was no answer. She went towards the kitchen, thinking her son stole some food again; he was quite the eater, after all. But he wasn't there. Moreover, when she opened the refrigerator, none of the food for supper that night was missing.

Seeing this, she got an idea. "Who's hungry for hamburgers?" she called. Her boy couldn't resist hamburgers; they were one of his favorites, and if she ever needed him to get up, she would entice him with burgers. Needless to say, she was stunned when she didn't hear so much as a peep.

"Where is that boy of mine?" she wondered to herself. No sooner had she asked this when she suddenly heard a clattering from the living room, as well as a surprised grunt. Fearing the worst, she ran over and found that the small closet they had in there had decided to spill its contents, leaving a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. And who was under those dirty clothes?

"Ah, heh heh...hi, Mom. When did you get home?"

Delia put her hands on her hips. "Well, well, well," she said. "It looks like another fine mess that we have on our hands."

"Y-Yeah," her son said nervously.

"Well, you know the drill," she said firmly, though not impatiently. "Clean it up!"

"O-Okay, Mom," he said, his voice still shaking as he stood up and started putting the clothes back in the hamper. As she watched him, she noticed that he looked nervous: very nervous.

That's not like him she thought. Is there something I'm missing here? "Is everything okay, Ash?"

"Ah!" he jumped as though he were spooked by a Haunter. "Y-Yeah! Everything's fine! Nothing broke, I promise!" He started putting the clothes back in the hamper at a more frantic pace.

"I find that hard to believe," she replied in a deadpan voice, folding her arms across her chest. "You always have something broken to share with me when I get home from work. And I heard something shatter when I came in here. Are you sure nothing's broken?"

"Absolutely!" he squealed as he shut the closet, finished cleaning. "Everything's just fine! I didn't break anything! Especially nothing extremely special that you told me you would ground me for if I broke it!"

Her eyes widened. Being a mother, she knew that when a child Ash's age made a denial as specific as the one he just made, it meant the exact opposite of what they said. She took a step forward to speak to him, but she stopped dead in her place when she felt her foot step on a sharp piece of glass. She looked down and raised her foot and saw a small shard of glass on the ground.

"What's this?" she wondered, stooping down to pick it up.

"AH!" her boy shrieked in terror as though he just realized he forgot to cover up one piece of crucial evidence. He has his hands over his mouth, tears on the brims of his eyes, and he was shaking in mortal terror.

Delia examined the piece of glass a moment. Then she gasped, her other hand flying to her mouth. "Is this…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Is this the –?" She looked up, and found that her son was gone. She looked down and noticed that the shard of glass was by a small table where she typically put special ornaments like vases made of china. The bottom of the table covered the floor, although there were crevices at the bottom where one could stick their hand in to get something out from under, assuming their hand was small enough. She bent down and reached under the table, feeling around. Sure enough, there were several pieces of glass down there. She pulled out a few and examined them. When she did, her fears were confirmed.

"No," she whispered softly as she held the vase in her hands. Without another word, she stood up and marched to the stairs, certain that Ash was in his room.

While all her possessions were made of glass – plates, cups, vases, and so on – there were some that she treasured more highly than others. As such, they were off limits to children, especially Ash. She always warned him that if he broke them, he would get a more severe punishment than the usual.

She had gotten one such ornament a few days prior. While she was on her lunch break at Pallet House, she was joined by a customer visiting from a far-off region. This customer was rather stunning: she probably stood at least six feet tall and had long, lovely blonde hair. Delia was certain she had won a few beauty pageants in her youth, something which she envied. Her lime green eyes, however, betrayed something else: something that hid under her lovely exterior.

They'd had a pleasant talk, finding common ground in the fact that both of them had lost their husbands in one way or another and having to raise children on their own. However, this woman was wealthy and had plenty of help, another thing Delia envied. Yet the way her friend spoke about raising her children to be beautiful children "worthy" of her love gave her pause. When Delia explained her way of raising her son, with love, care, and instilling a love of family into him, her friend seemed a little put off. What good was it, she asked, raising him with love if he was such a troublemaker? What good was it if he didn't turn out the way she wanted him to?

What good was it, she asked, if he became just like his father?

Delia resolutely replied that she would not allow that. Her son would not lose sight of what was important. She would instill in him a deep love of family, as she wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.

While her friend admired her resolve, she nevertheless dismissed her sentiment, stating that all boys turn out to be like their fathers. The only way to prevent this was to mold them into something more beautiful, something more "worthy" of love. Once again, Delia was put off by her friend's talk about being "worthy" of love. Deciding they'd talked enough about their lives, she changed the subject, and the rest of the conversation proceeded quite normally.

When they parted ways, her friend decided to give her a gift so that she would remember their encounter. It was a vase: a special vase made out of a very rare material that could only be found in a far off region. The vase sparkled with a golden glimmer, and it had the emblem of her friend's conservation organization on it. She thanked her friend and brought it home. There, she placed it with her special decorations. She then sternly warned her son that if he so much as touched it, he would be grounded for a week.

Realizing this meant that the vase was very important to her, he promised not to touch it.

Delia was at the top of the staircase now, having recalled this memory in the span of a few seconds. And yet it only took a few days for him to break his promise. She walked over to his room and found the door shut.

"Ash?" she called, firmly knocking on the door. "Are you in there?" There was no response. She knocked again. "Ash, if you're in there, answer me!" Still no response. At this, she tried to open the door, only to see that he had moved his laundry hamper in front of it to hold it shut, as he didn't have a lock for his room. Delia huffed in annoyance and slipped her hand through the door. After struggling for a moment, she managed to get the hamper out of the way and opened the door, stepping in. Sure enough, her boy was in there, curled up on his bed and facing away from her.

"What have I told you about answering your mother, young man?" she asked, standing over him.

"When you call me, I have to come," he replied quietly.

"Then why didn't you say anything when I called you just now?" she asked. Once again, he didn't answer. She put her hands on her hips. "Ash Ketchum, you look at me right now!"

There was silence for a moment. Then, he slowly turned towards her, uncurling himself in the process and sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked terrified, with a tear brimming in each of his tiny little eyes. His bottom lip was quivering.

Delia bent down so she was on eye level with him. "What happened?" she asked, softly but firmly.

He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but nothing came out. He tried again, but still, nothing. Finally, he managed to squeak something out:

"It was only an accident."

That was the last straw for him. He started sobbing as tears streamed down his face. He put his face in his hands and started to curl up again. Delia, however, reached out and pulled him into a hug. Instinctively, he hugged her back, sobbing on her shoulder and making her shirt all wet with his tears. She could feel his shoulders shake as he cried harder than he had since he was a baby.

"Shhhhhhh," she said softly, rubbing his back as she tried to calm him. Naturally, he didn't calm down right away. But as she continued to gently shush him and rub his back, he calmed down enough and stopped crying, at least for the moment.

"There we go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Now, tell me what happened."

The boy sniffled, wiping his eyes. "Promise you won't get mad?" he asked, his voice still shaking from his crying.

"I promise," she replied.

With that, he wiped his eyes again. For the moment, the tears vanished, and he was able to speak without choking up. He was still sniffling, though.

"Well...you know that really special vase you brought home yesterday?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, hiding her amusement at the fact that it was really a few days ago.

"Well...when you left today, I tried to do something funny," he went on, sniffling again. "I tried to hide it with that big box we've had since last month."

"Okay," Delia said, mentally noting to herself that she needed to stop putting off recycling that thing. All it did was cause trouble, after all.

Ash was starting to choke up again as he went on. "Well, I put the box over the vase, but it was too big and covered the desk. So I tried to make it smaller by ripping it. But when I ripped off a hard piece, I accidentally hit the desk. The vase wobbled and fell over."

"Were you hurt?" she asked in concern.

"What? No, I'm fine," he said, his voice briefly returning to normal. "I caught the vase before it hit the floor." Delia's eyes widened, impressed. "Then I stood up to put it back," Ash went on, his voice choking up once again, "but I lost my balance and tripped over the box. The vase flew out of my hand and hit the floor."

He finished his story in a rapid, high pitch before he started crying again. At this, Delia hugged him once again, alternately running her hand through his hair and rubbing his back. As she did so, he constantly said, "I'm sorry," through his sobs. Delia simply smiled. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed.

She pulled him off of her shoulder and sat him on the bed. "Stay here a minute," she said. "I'll be right back." With that, she stood up and went into the bathroom. There was a box of kleenex in there that she had Ash use to clean out his nose. She brought the box with her back into his room and pulled one out for him to use. He took it and wiped his eyes with it, still crying and sniffling as he did so. "You want me to bring you some dinner?" she asked him.

"No," she shook his head, grabbing another kleenex from the box. "I'm not hungry."

He must feel horrible she thought when he said this. "Ash," she said softly, putting her hands on his shoulders and prompting him to look up into her eyes, "If it was only an accident, why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

He sniffled and wiped his eyes again. "I thought you'd be really mad at me," he replied, grabbing another tissue. "You told me that vase was really important, and I promised I wouldn't break it. And then I broke my promise!"

More tears began streaming down his face as he started sobbing again. Delia smile and hugged him tightly once again. He hugged her back. "Ash," she said softly, "you're much more important to me than any little vase. It's just a little old vase, after all." She pulled him out and looked him in the eye again. "Do you remember that song I used to sing when you were three years old?"

"Uh...no," he replied blankly, a reaction he would continue to have in the many years to come.

Delia just giggled and hugged him again, gently rocking him as she sang that song to him.

I'll love you forever
I'll love you for always
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.

"Oh, that song," Ash said. She sat him down on his bed again, chuckling. "Yeah, I remember."

She ran her hand through his hair. "Do you know what it means?" When he just looked at her blankly, she went on. "It means that no matter what you say, or what you do, no matter how badly you behave or how mean you are to me, I will never stop loving you. You'll always be my little baby boy, no matter what."

For a moment, Ash continued to start at her blankly. Then he wiped his eyes one more time, and looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Mom," he said. Then his smile faded as he looked down at the ground again. "I guess I should be punished, shouldn't I?"

Delia chuckled softly. "I don't think I need to punish you. After all, you didn't mean to break it, and you're very sorry you did, right?" Ash nodded, still not smiling. She simply smiled and hugged him one more time. "Maybe next time we should be more careful with our funny little jokes. And if something happens, what do we do?"

"Always tell the truth," Ash replied.

She sat him back down on the bed and kissed his forehead tenderly. "That's my boy," she smiled. With that, she stood up. Ash grabbed one more tissue and blew his nose loudly.

"Here," he said, handing her all his tissues...including that one.

"Ah...thank you," she replied, hiding her disgust with a smile. "I'm gonna go make dinner now, okay?"

"Okay," he replied. With that, she left his room and, after returning the tissues to the bathroom (and washing her hands), she went down the stairs and to the kitchen. She opened the freezer and looked around. Seeing a box of ice cream, she took it out to their outdoor trash can and dropped it in there.

"No, I won't punish you," she chuckled to herself. "But I just noticed that we're out of ice cream. Don't worry! We'll have more this time next week." With that, she went back in and began preparing dinner.

I pretty proud of how this one turned out. What did you think? Feel free to rate and review, but no flames please!

And now, for a LONG overdue update on Adventures in Alola. Seriously, it's been a month and a half since I updated that story! Well, here's the thing: I decided to put Alola on a temporary hiatus for a few reasons:

1. With Pokemon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon coming out in a month, I want to get through those games and see where their plot leads before I continue my story, as there are already elements in there that are even better than they were in Sun & Moon.

2. I hit some major writer's block. I'd estimate that it's taken me about half a year to finish Chapter 3 of Alola (by which I mean Chapters 26 - 35). It's a crude estimate, but I think that I completed everything preceding it in the same time. I know where I want the story to go, but I just don't know how to get there! I'm a little dry on ideas, but I do have one technique that may once again spark my creativity:

3. I need to revise the story. I've been reading over what I've written so far, and while I do think most of it is good, I still know it can be WAY better than it is right now. I plan to revise some dialogue, flesh out some scenes, and retcon some plot points that I came up with early on only to lose interest in them later, as I realized I didn't know where to take them. I a'int tossing around no GS balls, ya hear me?!

I hate to say it, but with all these factors colluding against me, I don't think Adventures in Alola is going to be updated again until 2018. That said, I am NOT giving up on it. It's the most popular story I've ever written, and I don't want to let its 100+ followers down! But I also want it to be the best it can be, so I need to take some time to revise it and make it better than ever (there's a reason "revision" is spelled re-vision, you know).

So did I write this story about Ash's mom just to give you an update? Not exactly. The events of this story will get brought up at some point in Alola. While it's not necessary to read this story to enjoy Alola, it does ensure that you'll be able to fully appreciate it when it pops up.

Okay, that's all from me. Thank you for your patiences, and I'll catch ya later!