At some point, the updates will slow down. But not yet. Right now, I'm on a roll, and besides, these chapters are fairly short.

I'm grateful to everyone who has given this tale a chance. I'm having a great time writing it, and thank you all for over 300 views. This is the longest chapter yet, though that's not saying a lot. Enjoy!


It didn't take long for Ash's face to fall as the news anchors stared back at him.

If he'd been honest with himself, Ash would have known that Christian and Renee were telling the truth. There was simply no way anyone could keep up such an obvious lie for so long, unless it wasn't a lie.

"So you're telling me I'm the President right now?" Ash responded blankly.

Christian nodded soberly. "I need you to understand what I'm saying."

"I think this exchange proved that I do."

"Well, let me put it another way too" Renee responded. "You need to realize that there's been a lot of responsibility foisted upon your shoulders. Right here, right now. And if you can't rise to the occasion, all of Kanto will be worse off as a consequence."

Ash gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles. "I can't believe this," he said aloud. "You're appointing me President, just installing me in there, without any of the people of Kanto having a say?"

"Well, President Fiddlesticks, the bumbling old fool, couldn't be bothered to name a successor if something should happen to him" Christian pointed out. "It's only natural there would be a succession crisis after he was gone. Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

"I'm certainly not," Ash muttered. "Can't I withdraw my nomination? Can't the House and Senate confirm someone who's more fit for the office?"

"I'm afraid not," Renee replied, shaking her head. "Well, that would theoretically be possible, but they've both confirmed your appointment overwhelmingly. We've got a lot of ground to cover today, so I recommend you start cooperating with us."

"Why should I? I'm telling you right now, I don't want to be President. When I said 'If I were President' in that campaign video, I was talking about it as a hypothetical; that doesn't mean I would actually run."

"Look, Mr. Ketchum. You can either do this the easy way now, or the hard way later. Which would you prefer?"

Looking between Christian and Renee, Ash could tell that there was no way out of this predicament that didn't involve agreeing to their demands. The numerous sheets of paperwork he was swiftly handed were all so official in appearance, so formal, that they couldn't have been forged.

"Okay", Ash sighed, throwing his hands in the air. "Take me to the Presidential Palace, and we'll see that this was all some misunderstanding. And then you'll give me my life back."

Christian gave Ash the saddest smile the latter man had ever seen.

"Let's get you fitted for a presidential outfit" Renee insisted. "That'll happen at the tailor's office."

Five minutes later, Ash found himself standing stock-still like a male model, trying not to squirm as tape measures were unfurled all around him. The tailor kept frowning. "Please hold still!" the man commanded Ash, frustration showing in his tone.

"I'm trying! I just can't be a statue for hours at a time!"

"It's only been twenty minutes," the tailor remarked. "But if you keep moving around like that, it will be hours, and you'll only have yourself to blame."

Even though Ash spent the rest of the process in near-total silence, it still took at least two hours to get all the dimensions down. He could have sworn that each measurement was taken at least ten times, but the tailor didn't care. (Ash didn't blame the guy too much - the President had to be well-dressed at all times, right?)

The President. Every time Ash thought of himself in those terms, he shivered. Truth be told, if anyone had told him twelve hours ago about the course of events that was about to unfold, Ash would have called that person insane. Indeed, there would have been far harsher words to use - "insane" would be putting it mildly.

But here he was. Even if it was all a hoax, it was certainly an elaborate one, and what incentive did they have to pull this trick on Ash Ketchum specifically? He'd already gone from hero to zero; they didn't need to humiliate him further!

"Okay, here it is," the tailor said a good hour later. "Try it on and tell me how it feels!"

The navy blue blazer felt itchy against Ash's skin, making it crawl with a million invisible insects. Of course, no Butterfree could be flying around in there - the Presidential tailor no doubt had the most stringent hygiene standards imaginable in place.

"It feels fine," Ash muttered. Strictly speaking, this wasn't true, but he just wanted to be done with the process.

"Very well!" the tailor responded. "The motorcade will be arriving soon - if there's anything you still have to do here, best to do it now. Otherwise, you can follow me out the front walk of the Saffron City Courthouse."

"No point delaying the inevitable" Ash mumbled. "Let's go. I don't want to spend another minute here."

"Fair enough."

The path leading from the courthouse to the street was lined with a mob of reporters that made the group who'd barged into Ash's apartment look like a small tea party. That analogy also works for the relative noise level of this media mob; the cameras were a lot louder, and far more numerous, making the sheer volume of the walkway almost too much to bear.

It's a sea of reporters!

"Nope, you're not going through the bunker. You get to walk right down the runway, because attention is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"There's a bunker?" Ash said quietly.

The tailor nodded. "Not for you today, though."

Since Ash clearly wouldn't be able to escape the prying eyes of journalists, he might as well steel himself for what was to come. After taking a deep breath and narrowing his eyes, the "President-designate" gingerly took a step forward.

There you go, Ash. Just do it step by step. It's easier if you ignore them, because they're going to pester you to give them attention. Don't give them what they want - no satisfaction whatsoever.

This was easier said than done, however. A few of the news anchors stepped into the path in order to block Ash's way, interlocking their hands together so that he'd be forced to duck.

"Hey, I need to get to the motorcade!" Ash exclaimed exasperatedly. Even the word motorcade felt out of place, as though the word did not belong to him.

"We need to talk, Mr. Ketchum" an anchor from OANN (One Alola News Network - why had she flown all the way up here?) announced. "You're going to give us an interview, like it or not."

Ash shook his head. "I'm the President right now. I can do whatever I want. And I'm telling you, right now, to pound sand."

The OANN anchor, a rather tan woman with flowing black hair, grimaced. "Mr. Ketchum, if you're going to be that confrontational, you're going to have to rethink your relationship with the press. Journalism is an essential part of a healthy democracy, is it not?"

In response, Ash merely stared at the anchor. All he could do was hold out hope that a bodyguard or someone would come along and whisk him away from the rabid media personnel. Any second now…

Fortunately for Ash, it didn't take long before a broad-shouldered man swooped into action and held up a fist. "Give this man a break, will ya?"

Finally! Someone's making a point that should be obvious!

The OANN anchor flinched, then took a few steps back. "My apologies, sir. Of course - Mr. Ketchum needs some time to adjust to the office. I understand completely."

It didn't take long for Ash to realize what, exactly, had induced the anchor to cower in fear at this man. Not only was he extremely muscular, with arms that fully qualified as "guns", but his expression was completely neutral and no-nonsense. It was plain that if anyone tried to harm the President of Kanto, this man (a bodyguard of sorts, probably) would come down on that person like a giant wall.

"Thanks," Ash said breathlessly.

"Don't thank me," the bodyguard muttered. "It's just part of my job. I'm presently the head of the Secret Service, charged with protecting the office of the Presidency. Right now, that means making sure no harm comes your way."

Secret Service, huh. Is it going to be like those movies where the President and all his Cabinet members have code names?

Suddenly, Ash wondered if being President wouldn't be so bad after all. It would be cool to relive his childhood dreams of being in a spy movie; then again, it was far from guaranteed that this "movie" would have a happy ending.

There were at least twenty limousines lined up on the road, all an identical shade of jet black. The windows were also blacked out on each one, and right away Ash knew why this was.

"It's so that they don't know which one you're in," the Secret Service agent explained unnecessarily.

"Who are they?" Ash enquired, not sure he wanted to know.

The bodyguard sighed. "No matter how hard you try to please everybody, you can't. There will always be those who disagree with you, vocally so, and some of them use more weapons than just words. I'm around for those times."

As the door to the limo closed, and the bodyguard turned on the engine, Ash couldn't help but gulp. This man he'd never met was expected to lay down his life just to protect him. Hopefully it doesn't come to that.

"Anyway," the Secret Service agent continued, "you can call me Leatherman. That's my code name around these parts."

"Yep. Code names" Ash muttered. "Makes sense."

Leatherman nodded. "We'll be at the Presidential Palace in about twenty minutes, since one of Saffron City's traffic statutes dictates that civilians must always yield to the presidential motorcade. We shouldn't have much traffic."

"Nice."

"So how are you feeling about all this?" Leatherman continued. "It must all be quite a shock - you were just a private citizen not more than twelve hours ago."

The enormity of the event made Ash's head spin even though he was seated. "It is, sir. It really is. I was just minding my own business - ".

" - when you decided to make a video and post it on PokéTube," Leatherman said, finishing Ash's sentence for him.

"That wasn't me," Ash replied curtly.

Leatherman didn't turn around, but from the mirror, Ash could see that the bodyguard was frowning. "Say what now?"

"Yeah, I filmed the video, and that wasn't a smart move on my part" the President-designate told Leatherman. "But someone else must have posted it. My PokéTube account is verified, so there's no reason for me to use a burner."

The Secret Service agent sighed. "I believe you, Mr. President."

"You do?"

"Well, why wouldn't I?" Leatherman responded, his dark-skinned face contorting into yet another frown. "Everyone already knows who you are, so it makes sense that you wouldn't use a burner account."

"Sure."

"Look, Mr. President. If someone filmed you without your knowledge, you should tell us right away. You might not have been a government official at that time, but we still need to take it seriously. Anyone who would threaten someone so important…"

"I get it," Ash muttered. "I'm the President right now, so I'm very important."

"Quite" Leatherman told him. "Do you remember if you saw anyone else in the Red Light District with you that night?"

Ash considered saying no, but he had to assume that the Secret Service would know right away if he were lying. Honesty was surely the best policy here.

"Yes, I did," Ash replied. "There was a man with purple hair at the bar with me. I don't think he filmed me, but…".

"There's another possibility," Leatherman said matter-of-factly. "Maybe someone hacked into your phone at the same time as you were filming the video."

The President-designate shivered. "Could that really be it?"

"It cannot be ruled out. Hackers are figuring out new tricks faster than we can keep up with patching those holes. That's why you always, always, always use a VPN when you're President. We'll set you up with one as soon as you're settled into the Palace."

"What about Serena? And Pikachu?" Ash wondered aloud. "I can't just leave them at the apartment - they'll be vulnerable too."

"They'll be transported to the Presidential Palace later today" Leatherman said casually, as if this was something that happened every day. "There is nothing to worry about, Mr. Ketchum."

Despite Leatherman's orders, worrying is exactly what Ash did silently for the rest of the ride. He didn't even worry about anything in particular; the immediate fear from when his apartment had been stormed had evaporated into a more general fear of his new life.

"Here we are," Leatherman said suddenly, snapping the President-designate out of his reverie. "Behold, your new home."

The Presidential Palace consisted of numerous white marble pillars, along with balconies and stairs leading up to those balconies. There was also an expansive front lawn, perfectly green even in the midst of a hot summer. Clearly, this residence was one that the authorities wanted to keep well-maintained.

Ash's first thoughts upon processing all of this were the following: This house - no, this PALACE - is like ten sizes too big for me. I can't accept this offer, can I?

No, it's not an offer. They're not requesting that I assume the role of Kanto's President. They're demanding it. And I have to cave in.

"We can't stay out here too long," Leatherman insisted. "I promise you, there will be plenty of time to daydream once we're safely inside the building. And you'll also be able to call anyone you want on the phone. Be warned - your conversations will be closely monitored, since you're the President right now and all."

That's one of the ironies of being an elected official. You handle documents that are top-secret, heavily classified. But you've got no right to privacy, not if the news media has anything to say about it.

The interior of the Presidential Palace was even more glamorous than the exterior, complete with chandeliers and rugs in a veritable rainbow of colors. Ash had to pinch himself repeatedly in order to keep believing that this wasn't all an elaborate figment of his hyperactive imagination. Striding down the grand corridors, it was nearly impossible to do this.

"Here we are," Leatherman muttered eventually, pointing to what looked like an old-fashioned payphone attached to the wall. "This phone is to be used for all your calls, no matter who you're talking to. For the sake of security, like I've said, everything has to be monitored."

"You guys don't trust me?" Ash snapped. "Then why are you making me President?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Ketchum" Leatherman replied, adjusting his shades, "we the people of Kanto trust you very much. We put our trust in you to save the world, and you did not abuse it. We'd be foolish not to trust you now."

"Fine," Ash grunted. "I'll call Brock."

He might still have been nursing a mild hangover from last night, but Brock's phone number might well have been drilled into his brain at this point. Ash had dialed it so many times he knew the sequence of digits by sheer muscle memory.

"Hello?" Ash called out, hoping his friend hadn't decided to sleep the day away. Brock was normally the guy you went to for advice on more intellectual matters, but the guy could be lazy when he wasn't on an adventure.

Luckily, today wasn't one of those days. Ash heard Brock's voice from the other end almost immediately.

"Oh my Arceus, Ash, I can't believe it happened!"

"I can't believe it either. Are we talking about the same thing?"

"Well," Brock responded, "I woke up this morning and saw your face plastered all over PokéTube! They say Kanto's legislature elected you President after Fiddlesticks resigned!"

"They didn't elect me," Ash muttered. "They installed me, which I don't get. Millions of eligible people, tens of millions, and they choose me!"

"It's all quite extraordinary, isn't it, Ash?" Brock asked rhetorically. "Welcome to a democracy, where nothing is impossible. Where are you right now?"

"The Presidential Palace. If this is all a dream, it's an incredibly vivid one."

"This isn't a dream, Ash. No dream lasts this long. What's going to be your first act as President?"

"Brock, it feels like you're punching me with words. Give me a little more time to respond, will you?"

"Sorry about that. What do you want to do with all this power, or whatever?"

Ash sighed. He'd spent so much mental energy trying to adjust to the day that he'd had none to ponder what he'd actually use the power of the Presidency for. Would he sign papers that represented those unilateral moves? What were those called, again? Executive orders?

"Haven't given it much thought," Ash admitted. "But I'll hire advisors. They'll be the best people - the very best."

Although he couldn't see Brock's face, Ash imagined that his friend was smiling. "You know to stay in your lane, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"How's Serena doing? Heard you guys had a fight at the apartment this morning - is everyone okay?"

Of course they're blowing it out of proportion. It wasn't a domestic dispute, just a regular argument. But they'll make me out to be some sort of abuser, won't they?

"They just played it up for the clicks," Ash insisted, feeling his face blush. "For the record, Serena and I get along just fine. We have our spats just like any other couple, but we're doing fine."

"That's not what they're saying on TV. But for the record, I believe you."

Ash gulped. "They're saying what?"

Brock was silent for a long time; at one point, Ash was convinced his friend had hung up. But eventually, the other end was no longer silent.

"Look, Ash, I'd better not stress you out even more. Enjoy your Presidency, and I wish you good luck. You're sure as hell going to need it."


Serena had stayed up for much of the night, anxiously awaiting her boyfriend's return. Even once Ash had arrived at the apartment, she hadn't relaxed.

Indeed, relaxation wouldn't come for quite a while. Not for her, and probably not for the rest of Kanto either.

For several hours, Serena could do nothing but stare transfixed at PokéTube, watching in a combination of amazement and horror as the view count for Ash's video scampered upward. With hundreds of thousands of new views every minute, she couldn't help but compare it to a massive car wreck: Yes, it was horrible, but you just couldn't look away!

"This isn't good, Pikachu," Serena mouthed. "Ash is making a fool of himself for no reason. No reason!"

"Pika pika…" ("I wish he'd had more foresight.")

"No kidding. All I can say is, I hope he's learned his lesson once he gets home from his interviews. And I hope he never does anything so foolish as that again!"

Just then, Serena's phone gave off the most high-pitched screeching noise, making her heart skip a beat.

What was that sound? A test for the emergency alert system the government said they would try out?

"Pika pika" ("Look at your phone, Serena.")

Serena sighed, steeling herself for what she was about to see. Perhaps an earthquake had arrived, a natural hazard Kanto was very prone to. But something told her that wasn't it, since the ground wasn't shaking. (Then again, she was on the 7th floor, and the continent's building codes had been written with quakes in mind.)

But that wasn't it.

Instead, Serena found herself staring at the news alert for several seconds. She read it no fewer than five times, and each time her brain processed it, she believed it less and less.

The alert read the following: BREAKING: ASH KETCHUM DESIGNATED KANTO'S NEXT PRESIDENT AFTER ANDREAS FIDDLESTICKS' RESIGNATION. NEW PRESIDENT TO TAKE THE OATH OF OFFICE THIS AFTERNOON.

Serena dropped the phone onto the couch before sitting down herself and placing her head in her hands.

"Pika pika…" ("What's wrong, Serena?")

The blonde woman shook her head. "You're not going to believe this, Pikachu," she sighed.

"Pika pika?" ("Why would they lie?")

"They wouldn't lie," Serena replied, but she couldn't find the strength to use any more words. She merely stared off into space, hardly able to look at the TV anymore. No doubt the view count of the drunken video would grow significantly after this announcement. (That is to say, more rapidly than it already had been.)

At that moment, a "perfect solution" came into her mind. But it was almost like this thought wasn't her own; perhaps Arceus or some demon had opened Serena's brain and put it there.

The fact that he's now President-designate means I could just leave him. It would give me all the reasons I need to say that enough is enough. Plus, it just shows how irresponsible Ash can be.

No. I'm not going to leave Ash. He needs me to help support him through this. Maybe I can be his advisor.

No! I can't skirt nepotism laws like that. He'll have to hire Brock or someone as his advisor! But would that be wrong too?

I don't know. This whole situation is just a mess, and to think that it could have all been avoided if he hadn't gone to the Red Light District last night!

Oh boy, was that all LAST NIGHT?

It was almost impossible to appreciate just how rapidly the world had changed for Ash and Serena in the last twelve hours. Not just Ash and Serena - residents of other time zones further west would be waking to a world in which Kanto had a new President, one with no political or military experience.

With Pikachu gazing anxiously at Serena, the young woman tried a few words out, just to see how they sounded on the end of her tongue. Just uttering them felt like spitting in the universe's face, as though this was not what Arceus had decreed. But here goes nothing.

"Ash Ketchum. President of Kanto."