Yep, it's already here. I'm either spoiling you guys or being very inconsiderate with the fast updates. But that is the nature of college - you make time for your hobbies when you can, because you don't know what the next day will bring.

Not for the first time, I want to express my gratitude at everyone who is reading this. I've got almost 1K views on All the President's 'Mon now, and I look forward to keeping this thing going. Hopefully my grandfather would be proud. Enjoy.

Current music: Cheerleader - OMI

The following afternoon, Ash forced himself to take a break from staring obsessively at his computer screen. As much as he wanted to know the overall state of his campaign, it would consume him before long if he wasn't careful.

And, since he was running for such a high office, Ash had to be very, very careful.

It had been almost midnight by the time Ash and Serena had returned to Crown City, and well past that time when the pair were able to collapse into bed at last. Full of relief that he'd survived the whole debate, Ash's adrenaline had subsided, and he'd fallen asleep right away.

He didn't wake up until midmorning, by which time he would normally have gone to his computer and begun his campaign work for the day. There was always a job that needed to be done, and if you didn't believe that, you didn't belong in politics.

The candidate's heart had skipped a beat at the realization that he'd slept in later than he'd intended, and that his campaign's employees would more than likely be upset with him. When he rolled over to check his phone, a few texts from Brock's number popped out at him.

Hey Ash, you there?

I am, Ash texted back, before realizing that the previous message had been sent by Brock nearly two hours earlier. There were three others sent after that one, which read as follows:

Are you awake?

Well, if you aren't, that's fine. You deserve some rest after that debate performance. Serena and I were very impressed.

And then: I'll cover for you today. Don't worry about it.

The candidate smiled as he sat up, yawning. Spending such days like this wasn't usually in his nature, but in this case, the idea of staying in his pajamas as he grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen, playing with Pikachu in the guest room of the apartment, and overall not worrying about anything sounded like heaven on Nexus.

So that's exactly what Ash did. He climbed out of bed in stages, put on a pair of slippers, and shuffled into the living room, from which he had a nice view of Crown City. It was a beautiful city by most standards, and it only seemed more so when he considered that the debate was over at last.

Yes, there would be many more hard days of the campaign. If the voters ultimately put their trust in him, the campaign would pale in comparison to the actual job. But for now, the trainer was very content to pour himself a cup of coffee and pick up Pikachu's Pokéball with his other hand.

Ash pressed the button on the device, and in a flash of cyan light, Pikachu was ejected from his Pokéball. The yellow mouse appeared on the floor, smiling from ear to ear.

"Pika pi! (How did you sleep, master?)"

Ash grimaced playfully. "There's no need to call me master, Pikachu. Last night on that debate stage, I used my platform to argue that we are equals."

Pikachu's tail wagged rapidly. "Pika pi! (That's amazing of you, boss! Well done!)"

The trainer smiled. "Yes. Would you like to spend some time playing?"

"Pika pi! (Yes!)"

"Well then. I guess we could play chess or something. I know you can move the pieces."

"Pika pi! (Let's do it!)"

And so the game began, Pikachu commanding the white pieces and Ash controlling the black. Although Ash was normally a decent player, he was well aware that he lacked practice, having had no time to focus on his chess game. Moreover, last night's event pushed itself to the front of his mind, distracting him from the board game.

This became all too clear when Pikachu moved his bishop so that it attacked his queen. "Pika pi! (Your move!)"

Ash didn't think much of it; after all, the queen could move anywhere, so it was easy to get her out of trouble. He used the queen to capture the bishop.

However, he'd been playing so inattentively that he hadn't noticed the pawn right behind the bishop. With a small squeal of delight, Pikachu took the queen in retaliation.

"Damn, you got me good," Ash muttered. The game wasn't over yet, but it didn't look good for him. He'd left his king exposed; how many more moves would it be before the black king was cut down by Pikachu's rook and knight?

After Ash made his next move, the phone rang. "I've got to go pick that up," the trainer said. "We'll continue the game when I'm done, okay?"

Pikachu nodded, then moved his rook. "Pika pi!" he exclaimed, though Ash didn't listen carefully enough to hear what his friend meant.

Looking at the caller ID, Ash saw that it was Brock on the other end. The trainer gulped as he braced himself for bad news; perhaps he wouldn't get a free day after all.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Ash. How did you sleep? Well?"

Ash snorted. "Too well, apparently. I'm sorry for not waking up at the usual time - you're probably doing a lot of the work that should be mine."

"It's okay," Brock promised. "It really is. You've earned your rest after yesterday - you did a great job."

"At the debate? Even with all the arguments I had with Kodai?"

"Ash, that's what people like about you! The voters of Unova want a fighter in the Crimson Chamber, not a quitter! The fact that you were willing to be combative only endeared you further to the people whose votes you need!"

The trainer didn't allow himself to get too excited at first. After all, Brock could easily be lying, only telling Ash what he wanted to hear so as to calm him down. This wasn't exactly likely, but it couldn't be ruled out either.

"How do you know that?" the candidate asked. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, but…".

"The donations are pouring in like they never have before," Brock replied. "Your campaign raised hundreds of thousands of dollars since the debate ended; I've been keeping track, and it's being reported in the news."

Ash smiled. It warmed his heart to know that so many people had seen his performance and evidently decided that it was worth supporting his campaign.

"What network is reporting that?" Ash enquired.

"All of them, sir," Brock told his friend. "Have you not paid attention to the media today?"

"You've gotta remember that I just woke up, Brock. And I've been playing chess with Pikachu; that's what your call interrupted. I'm not going to check the news in between moves."

Brock snorted. "Well, when you get a chance, you'll see that the debate worked wonders. You've become quite popular with the people of Unova."

"How do you know that without polls, though?" Ash hated to question his own success, but money didn't vote; ballots did.

"I have faith that the polls will move in your direction," Brock said simply. "That's how it usually works. Momentum leads to more momentum, like a snowball rolling down a hill."

Ash shrugged, even though Brock wouldn't be able to see him do so. He then said the following: "We'll have to see. Tomorrow I'll get back to pounding the pavement, I promise."

"There's no need to promise. You deserve a day off, like I said."

Ash didn't know what to say, which gave Brock a chance to mention something else.

"I actually received some data just a few minutes ago. It literally just came in."

"What sort of data?"

"A post-debate poll of the audience, conducted by Vulpix News among both those who viewed the debate in person and those watching on TV. They asked respondents if they approved or disapproved of each candidate's performance."

Ash opened his mouth in disbelief. "They've already got a poll out? I thought those would take several days!"

"Well, it was an online poll, so it should be taken with a grain of salt. Still, according to the survey on the Vulpix News website, roughly 64 percent of respondents approved of your performance, to 35 percent who disapproved. Of the four candidates, you had the best rating."

"Really?" Ash exclaimed, because it really did sound too good to be true.

"Yep," Brock replied. "Your message resonates with primary voters; it seems that many of them want Pokémon to have the same rights as humans. But if I had any criticism of how the campaign was run, it would be that you've only got one ad so far."

Ash, of course, recalled exactly what his friend spoke of: The ad in which Pikachu hit his trainer with an electric sneeze in the middle of the park. Although it had been some time since it was filmed, the ad still got considerable traffic on Pokélife, and was probably still raking in donations for the campaign.

Even so…

"I agree," Ash said sheepishly. "I guess I should have enlisted Mr. Gondol to help with that."

Mr. Gondol was the campaign's media consultant, whom Brock had suggested would be a good hire. Ash had deferred to his campaign manager for this decision, since he didn't always trust himself to make the right call. That's what a team was for, wasn't it?

"Hey, I'm sure he'd be happy to help," Brock responded. "So don't worry too much. Since I'm the campaign manager, it's just as much on me. But I'll talk to him right after I hang up with you. Is there anything else on your mind?"

"No," Ash said curtly. He was eager to get back to the chess game, even if Pikachu's giggles didn't inspire confidence in his ability to win it.

"Very well," Brock responded. "In that case, we can talk later. Have a great day, Ash."

"You too, Brock."

Ash was just about to return to the chessboard when the door opened, and Serena walked in. Much like her boyfriend, she was still wearing her pajamas and carried a mug of coffee.

"Good morning, honey," Ash cooed, heading over to Serena's side and embracing her in a hug.

Serena smiled, then turned it upside down. "Is anything wrong?"

"Huh?"

"You seem to be acting differently today. You're not the type to hug me the first time you see me."

"Oh… sorry about that. Is that a problem?"

"No," Serena told Ash. "But I heard you on the phone - was that Brock?"

Ash nodded. "He's managing everything for today. Said I'd earned some R & R."

"Well, that was nice of him. Does he have any updates about the campaign?"

"Yes, he did!" the candidate exclaimed, beaming as he did so. "Wonderful news, in fact: My campaign is experiencing a surge in small-dollar donations ever since the debate!"

"Ash, that's incredible!" Serena shouted happily, wrapping her boyfriend in her arms once again. "I knew you could do well in the debate, but - and I hope you'll forgive me for this - I didn't think you'd do that well!"

"Yeah," Ash replied softly. "I did."

In his mind, the young man quickly gave himself over to the idea that it could happen. Ash Ketchum, only twenty-five years old (well, twenty-six at the time he would actually become President), sitting in the Crimson Chamber, signing and vetoing bills. Ash Ketchum, representing his adopted region abroad on diplomatic missions. Ash Ketchum, giving speeches from behind the presidential podium that he traveled to on Air Force One.

And yet, even as he pondered the world of possibility that lay before him, a tear worked its way through his right eye and down his face.

"Ash, are you sure you're alright? I can see you crying!"

"Yeah, I'm… sniff… fine," the candidate responded, wiping his eye with his pajama shirt.

"It doesn't sound like you're fine," Serena told her boyfriend bluntly. "If I were swiftly gaining momentum in the presidential primary, I would expect to be over the moon. Jubilant. So why aren't you?"

"It's just… sniff… we always dreamed of what our honeymoon would look like. We'd go down to Alola, perhaps. And we'd talk about our children's names there."

Serena grimaced. "Ash, you're thinking way too far ahead. We're not even married yet. You haven't won the nomination yet, let alone the election. Don't count your torchics before they're hatched."

Ash chuckled nervously, taking a step back from his girlfriend.

"You're right, Serena," he told her. "I shouldn't treat everything like it's written in stone."

"It's not just that, though," his girlfriend replied, adding a hint of sharpness to her voice. "You should know that not everything goes as planned. You learned that while on the road as a trainer, didn't you?"

"Well, yes," Ash admitted.

"Exactly. So you should make your plans more flexible. Don't build them out of anything that can't bend without breaking."

"True."

Serena looked displeased, but she didn't lash out at her boyfriend. Instead, she said, "I'm very happy your campaign is going well. I want you to succeed, too. But don't forget that success is going to cost you as well."

As Serena walked out the door, her words stuck with Ash. He understood exactly what she meant.

Yes, Ash's campaign, and potential presidency, would be a limiting factor in terms of how much time he could spend with Serena. And yes, Serena had suggested the idea at first. But when push came to shove, it had been Ash's decision to run. If his life was disrupted as a result, he had only one person to blame.

Himself.

More than that, his girlfriend was spot-on. There had been times on his journey when Ash had needed to adapt to unfavorable circumstances. He'd been able to handle it then, so why not now?

Maybe it's because I'm older now. I was ten when I started my journey - just ten! A literal child! And now I'm twenty-five, and my life is completely different. Maybe my outlook on it is too.

In the end, all Ash could do was sigh. The innocence and lack of worry that came with youth were both gone when adulthood arrived. But there was another, more important, matter to attend to.

That's right. The chess game.

Ash sat down at his spot on the board. "Okay, I see you made your move," he told Pikachu.

The yellow mouse nodded. "Pika pi! (I sure did!)"

"All right. I guess it's my turn now."

"Pika pi! (No, it's not!)"

Ash frowned. "It's not? Pikachu, that is how board games work. The players take turns, one after another. Why would it not be my turn?"

In response, the yellow mouse gestured at Ash's king, and the trainer understood immediately.

The black king was in check, under attack by a rook and trapped behind its own pawns. The only square Ash's king could move to was diagonal to it, but that space was controlled by a white bishop.

"Pika pi! (Checkmate!)"

The presidential primary election in Unova had what some would consider an odd schedule. To many people (indeed, probably most people), it would make more sense to hold the primaries all on one day so that everybody felt like they had a choice.

But that wasn't how this region ran its decentralized elections. Instead, the first primary was the following February in Nimbasa Province, and the winner stood to gain not only delegates, but also considerable momentum heading into the next primary.

The air turned colder and crisper. One day, Ash walked outside and noticed that he could see his own breath, the universal sign that winter was coming. And he shivered, as one's body tends to do when one is cold.

After that, he started wearing a gift from one of his admirers several years ago, a rather old jacket made of a Zoroark's fur. Yes, it was hypocritical for a Pokémon rights activist to own such an item, but sometimes the ends justify the means.

As the weeks passed, more polls were released to the general public. The narrative remained the same as it had supposedly been before the debate: Ash was only ahead of Joe Bidoof, with Senator Chilacoth in second and Grings Kodai as the front-runner. Despite the general public's best evidence showing that Ash remained stuck in third place, his donor base seemed to have a mind of its own.

"I don't understand," Ash muttered one evening as he sat at the dinner table with Serena. "Why are they all giving me so much money if the media says I can't win?"

"Well, the media doesn't always tell the truth, Ash," Serena told him in a tone that was almost snappish. "Besides, why are you complaining? All that money is helping you stay competitive!"

"I guess you're right," the candidate replied softly.

"I know I'm right."

Of course, given that Ash was an insider (indeed, he was the definition of an insider as it came to his campaign), he had access to more data than did the public at large. And it was gradually fed to him by Brock, who would call or text him whenever a new internal poll dropped.

"We've got an internal, Ash! You're now a distant second to Kodai!"

"You're still in third behind Chilacoth, but the gap has narrowed! If this keeps up, you'll win!"

"I know you can do this, Ash! Sooner or later, you'll take the lead!"

Ash knew that Brock meant well, but it sure took a toll on the candidate's sanity. Every night, right before he tucked himself into bed, he would unlock his phone and check his texts. And when he woke up the following morning, he'd do the same.

Christmas came and went. The most notable gift Ash received for that holiday was the knowledge that he'd come in only four points behind Kodai in the most recent public poll. But a close second wasn't enough - he had to win.

"You should at least call your mother, Ash," Serena told the candidate on New Year's Eve Day. "You spent the holidays without her - was that the first time?"

"I will later," her boyfriend promised her, albeit without any eye contact whatsoever. For his eyes were still glued to the computer screen - he couldn't miss a beat, or in this case a ping, when there was a news alert.

"Do you promise?" Serena pressed him.

"Yeah, I promise. But I can't do it right now. I'm too busy monitoring the news and talking to our volunteers."

However, Ash didn't remember to call his mother on December 31, 2023. Nor did he do so on January 1, 2024. It wasn't because he didn't care; it just slipped his mind all day until he finally fell into bed and realized, Hey, I forgot to call Mom again.

And yet, he let it happen again. And again. And again. And… well, you get the point.

At the campaign's headquarters, now located in an office park rather than a church basement, Ash and company held their weekly war room meetings. Over coffee, bagels, donuts, and other pastries, the group would pore over the latest numbers, whether they be phone numbers, fundraising totals, or polling data. And they'd discuss their strategy for the following week; i.e. where to enlist their volunteers, how many phone-bankers to hire, and so on.

Eventually, the last such meeting prior to the Nimbasa primary arrived. Brock held his phone in front of him, using his thumb to scroll down on the screen. It didn't take a detective to guess what he was looking at.

"Okay, so here's how it goes from here," the brown-haired man stated. "It's clear, based on the polling data available, that you have the momentum. The question is, will it be enough to overcome the lead Kodai has held for the last few months?"

Ash and Serena glanced at each other. Truth be told, neither of them had an answer. Neither of them would have an answer until tomorrow evening; and, depending on how close the results were, it could be even longer.

"Well, we certainly hope so," Brock continued. "The Nimbasa primary will be difficult for you to win, but it's imperative that you perform as well as possible. Historically, the candidate who wins this primary has been likely, although not certain, to win the nomination. It's not all the marbles here, but certainly a majority of them."

"Noted," Serena replied, keeping a relatively neutral expression. It was clearly forced, however, and Ash couldn't help but wonder if his girlfriend wasn't just as worried as he was.

"Ash? What about you?"

"Huh?" the candidate asked.

"Will you at least acknowledge what I just said?" Brock enquired. "It's not that hard to listen, you know."

"Oh" Ash admitted. "Well, I was just thinking about something. If Kodai wins the Nimbasa primary, that'll give him an edge moving forward, right?"

"Indeed it will," his friend replied gravely. "That's why we have to deprive him of that bounce. It'll be tough to do that, since he'll get a home-province advantage, but we have to at least try."

"I guess we do."

"Really, Ash, you don't sound like you're all there today," Serena told him. "It's okay to go outside and take a walk, then come back when you've gotten your fresh air."

"No, that's not the reason," Ash responded. "I just… can't stop thinking about how it all comes down to tomorrow."

"That can happen," Brock acknowledged. "Is it pre-primary jitters? Because if so, I can assure you that every candidate feels that way. Even Kodai."

"Well, yeah. It's just… we've had all these rallies, a couple of debates, and tomorrow is the day when it all comes to a head."

"If you're this stressed now, wait until the general election," Brock muttered.

Ash narrowed his eyes, trying to process this new emotion as anger rather than anxiety. That way, it was easier to deal with.

"I know you didn't mean it that way, Brock, but that came across as rather condescending. I get that the general election is far more important, but tomorrow's the first day of voting, so -".

"Actually, it's the last day of voting," Brock interjected. "People have been sending in their mail-in ballots for the last two weeks. There's been a steady stream of 'em. You don't have to be a genius to see the advantage of getting your votes banked early."

Serena blinked. "But doesn't every vote count the same?"

"True, but a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" Brock told her. "You never know what might happen on election day - maybe you get sick, maybe you're too busy, maybe there's an armed vigilante outside of the polling place -".

A lump formed in Ash's throat. "Has that actually happened?"

Brock nodded grimly. "In the last presidential election, there were some thugs hanging around next to drop boxes in some precincts. But that didn't stop President Fiddlesticks from winning his election. I think it's more of a general-election issue than a primary one."

"Well, what can we do about it?" Serena asked.

Of course, Ash thought. Leave it to a woman to be constructive while I do nothing but sulk.

"Well, if Ash is the nominee, we'll set up a voter protection hotline. If anyone has any issues casting their ballot, they'll call us, and we'll try to make sure that stops. We are a democracy, and we want there to be fine turnout on both sides."

Ash put his head in his hands. Although he'd adjusted more to the realities of the campaign as the months had gone by, there were still aspects of it that overwhelmed him. One had to hire the best person possible for every position, and there were so many of them.

The candidate must have been staring pretty hard, because the next thing he felt was a gentle massage on his back. Judging by the positions of their chairs, the hand stroking him must have been Serena's.

"It'll be okay, honey," Serena promised her boyfriend. "Whatever happens, we'll survive. And so will the region of Unova. The Unovan spirit is pretty tough to kill."

"That's the right way to look at things," Brock concurred. "Yes, I want this campaign to win, but Nexus isn't going to fall out of orbit if we lose. It's just that if Kodai wins the primary, he might lose the general election - which would be bad, but the thing about living in a democracy is that there's always a next time."

On that happy note, the meeting was adjourned. Brock returned to his residence, whereas Ash and Serena grabbed a taxi to take them back to their apartment.

"This is the last time we're taking a cab," Serena asserted. "After this, it's either public transit or a motorcade."

"Aren't motorcades for the incumbent President only?"

"Well, yes. But they say you'll be able to receive Secret Service protection pretty soon if it looks like you might be the nominee. Of course, that comes with its own restrictions - you won't be allowed to drive anymore, for one."

Ash snorted, happy that some levity had returned to the scene. "Well, I drive so much that it'd be a huge loss," he said sarcastically. In reality, he'd never needed a driver's license, since Crown City was just so walkable.

Once back at the apartment, Serena began work on dinner, while Ash excused himself to play a board game with Pikachu. Perhaps it would be another game of chess, a game at which the yellow mouse was undefeated in the last month. Not that Ash minded this too much - spending time with Pikachu was the most important thing.

It served as a reminder that he still had a life.

Ash's palm had just closed around Pikachu's Pokéball when the phone's ringtone, "White Spearows" by Billy Talonflame, sounded at full blast.

Oh, great, the candidate thought bitterly as he went to answer it. Must be Brock again, telling me that something's wrong. Like, can't I have some peace and quiet after our meeting? I just want one last evening to relax before the Nimbasa primary!

But it wasn't Brock. As soon as Ash saw the caller ID, he felt sick to his stomach at the fact that he'd been so dismissive.

The call was from Ash's mother, Delia Ketchum. She might not have called him over Christmas or New Year's, but she was certainly making up for lost time now.

"Good evening, Mom," Ash said softly, feeling a tear form in his right eye.

"Hello, Ash," his mother responded. Judging by her tone, she was probably just as conflicted as her son. "I'm so proud of you."

Ash sighed. "Thank you, Mom. It hasn't been easy, living without you the last few years."

"But you went on a journey as a child, and you didn't seem to find it difficult then," Delia pointed out. "What changed?"

"I guess I'm not so good at hiding it anymore," Ash replied, shaking his head even though his mother couldn't see him do so. "I know. That's not what you'd expect as I get older."

"It isn't, but you can work on that. You know that I'll always love you, no matter what happens with your campaign."

Ash gulped as he snapped back to reality. His mother, if she had so chosen, could easily have lashed out at him for abandoning her, and she'd have every right to do so. It wasn't her fault that Ash's father, her ex-husband, had been a gold digger, leaving her alone just so he could be with a far wealthier woman.

"I know, Mom," Ash murmured. "Have you been watching the debates?"

"I sure have been!" Delia replied, raising her voice a few notches. "Ash, you should do more of what you did in the first debate! Don't be afraid to hit Kodai below the belt!"

"Whoa, Mom," the candidate said, taken aback by his mother's abrupt outburst. "I don't want to be too aggressive, or else people won't want to vote for me."

"But if Grings Kodai is as dangerous as you claim, if you truly believe he'll hand the election to the red team, then you should go scorched-earth. No matter how nasty that causes the primary to end up."

Ash grimaced. "That comes with its own issues, though."

"Not in my mind, it doesn't. Ash, I know that you're my kind and loving son. You're not the type to slander your opponents with false allegations of Pokémon exploitation. I know the truth."

"You know the truth. But even though I'm a household name by now, not everyone knows me the way you do."

Delia could be heard sighing. Ash's mother took a while before she responded, and when she did, she spoke slowly.

"I just hope all this isn't too hard on your mental health. Your journey went just fine, but running a campaign is something else entirely. Is it affecting your relationship with Serena at all?"

Uh… that's a pretty personal question, is it not? Even when it's coming from your own mother.

"Nah, it's going great," Ash replied. "In fact, if I win the nomination…".

Ash didn't finish that sentence, but his fantasy still existed inside his brain. If he was nominated at the Unova Democratic Convention that summer, perhaps it would be a good time to break out the piece of jewelry he'd purchased last week.

Even now, that object was located in a secure box atop his dresser. He'd bought it with his own money - not campaign funds, because that would have been against the law. Although there was nothing illicit about the object, it still had to remain under lock and key at all times.

Maybe I'll make sure it's still there after this call.

"What happens if you win the nomination?" Delia asked her son.

Ash gulped. "Oh, uh… I can't tell you. It's meant to be a surprise. But rest assured, it'll be a pleasant one."

"I can hardly wait," his mother told him. "Have you been remembering to ch-".

"I have been," Ash snapped, chuckling nervously at the same time. "You don't need to keep reminding me, not when I'm an adult."

"Fair enough. Once a mother, always a mother, I guess. Anyway, is there anything else you want to talk about?"

Yes. I don't know if I should really be doing this. The campaign's pretty hard on my personal life; I'm just afraid to admit that. I've come too far to quit now.

Of course, that's what everyone tells themselves if they're deep into a project that they suspect won't succeed. Even as the seeds of doubt are planted, even once they've sprouted into a forest of doubt, the battle must wage on.

But Ash didn't tell his mother this. Instead, he waved it off and replied with, "No. There's nothing else."

For a moment, the candidate feared that his mother would press him further. He'd been too quick to dismiss that suggestion.

Luckily, Delia didn't question it. "I love you so much, Ash. I will never stop loving you. Don't ever forget that. We'll talk again soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good night, Ash. Take care, and good luck."

"You too, Mom. You too."

After Ash hung up the phone, he had to choke back sobs. Not for the first time, he questioned whether he'd made the right decision in committing to the campaign.

When he saw the box atop the dresser, though, his resolve only increased. He would see this through until the end, because the contents of the box were worth it.

As Serena called his name, all Ash could think was: She's in for quite a surprise this summer.