Dedicated towards the legacy of Ash Ketchum.

Now, once, forever, a Pokemon Master.

Frigid rain rapidly tapped against the ground below, falling from the dark, low rolling clouds that hung just overhead. Thunder permeated through the cacophony of sounds that littered the empty arena, slicing through the cool evening air. With every crash of Arceus's rage, the storm grew closer, and it echoed across the seats of the stadium, bouncing upon every barren surface and tattered grass field.

"You haven't changed a bit. You're just as pathetic as the day I last saw you."

Ash understood his words, but they failed to hold any meaning other than pure betrayal. His head hurt from the sudden barrage of emotion, and he found himself writhing underneath the stone cold glare of his once league rival, all those years ago.

His Pikachu panted heavily, and found itself unable to catch its own breath, while the Darkrai across from it zipped around, unfazed by the flurry of attacks that had been wasted upon it.

"Dark Pulse."

His heart rate increased, and he felt that sense of pride slowly grip from his slick oily hands. He wanted to yell for his Pikachu, his trustworthy partner. His best friend.

His vocal cords failed him.

The dark energy slammed into the wounded pokemon. It flew back and into him, knocking the wind out of his stomach. Ash gripped onto the electric mouse, looking down horrified at the damage inflicted upon it. "Why...How could you...?"

The mouse didn't move. It's beady black eyes now cold and grey.

"Should I bow in your presence, your highness? Oh, how far you've fallen, old king."

"What do you want?" Ash asked, only to be met by the same distant gaze. He looked up into the piercing grey eyes tore further into his soul, ripping apart the tiny amount fleeting confidence that he had managed to feign.

"I was sent here to take care of you. You abandoned the league, and they decided they too, wanted a fresh start." The man raised his hands in the air, and swung them dramatically. "Now imagine this: Ash Ketchum, Great Monarch, dies tragically in accident. The world mourns. Now that's something truly newsworthy."

"I told them I never wanted this!" He held his Pikachu tight to him, hoping to coddle it away, protecting his number one partner from any more pain. "I just wanted to be free!"

"Nothing is free, Ash. Not now, not ever. You had it your way before because of your childish appearance and mentality, but that's over now. Freedom comes at a price. It's about time you paid. Psychic."

"Please, Tobias." Ash begged, as a pink hue surrounded him and his pikachu. "We were friends, rivals."

"You cannot be serious." Tobias showed no sign of change in his rigid stance. The man merely raised his arm. "We're all nothing but pawns in a game of life. No matter the amount of power we think that we hold, there will always be someone with more. You were never the best, Ketchum. You were never even close."

His hand rose once more, and the man's slender finger pointed straight at his chest, pointing through Pikachu. "Goodbye, farewell. Best wishes to you."

Behind his eyes, Ash swore he saw a flash of something. Hidden deep behind irises of mindless grey. But, that would also be the last thing he would see, too.

"Die now."

Die, he did.

Serena grows weary. Nothing seems real anymore. Her mother holds her, but she still cries. Ugly tears staining her pale face, escaping from shiny blue eyes.

She watches through the screen of her phone, of a video on the developing events. Believing it is impossible, as her body is racked with denial.

"Sources confirmed for us, that just this morning: Ash Ketchum, the recently crowned Great Monarch, has died tragically in accident. We are unable to confirm the cause of his death, but images have been released of his mauled Body. The incident was reported as a pokemon related accident, but recent leaks from a insider on the PWC says otherwise. Newest claims are that the teenage battling phenom was indeed murdered. Fans on social media are up in arms, and the capitol building of Alola is experiencing riots..."

Serena slammed it down, unable to watch any further. She ripped her earbuds out and let her head fall into her knees. It couldn't be real, it couldn't.

Her heart couldn't take it if that was case. No other experience in her life compared to this moment. She knew him, he has escaped worse. All of time, she's seen him barely get by the skin of his teeth, somehow making it out just fine.

Nothing ever happened to the Ash Ketchum.

But this time, it was different.

She blew up his phone. She heard nothing in response. Not even a delivered receipt came her way.

Fake news. A mistake. A dream. Something. It had to be.

But minutes turned into hours, and hours rolled into days, and days into weeks.

Nothing changed.

Nobody would tell her a damn thing. The men in the black suits had told her it was a "high profile case", and that she was not authorized to be disclosed any further information.

She lived in active denial. A woman confined to her sheets, only able to leave to visit the bathroom once a day. It was too much for her. It just couldn't be real.

And then the invitation was slipped beneath the crack in her door. A small black evenpe that sat on her doormat for hours, before she had collected herself enough to pick it up with her sickly hands.

"A Celebration of Life." The card read. That was enough for her to fully combust.

"...The PWC has yet to issue a statement in response, and government officials remain silent on the subject.."

Misty felt like punching a hole through the television screen. Brock didn't bother to stop her. Nor did he have the energy to even try. He let the woman wail on the piece of technology, and merely sat back, staring up into the popcorn of the ceiling.

The tears threatened to fall, but he couldn't let them. He absolutely wouldn't let them.

Brock rung his phone 300 times that day. Even more later in the night.

Nothing from the kid.

He watched as the orange haired brat curled up in the corner, the most emotional he had ever seen her. Her body shook with heartbreak, he assumed. As for him, It was beteral, sadness, anger, all in a little bundle that they call grief.

It took a few hours, but eventually the emotions settled in. The rock type trainer confined to the uncomfortable padded chair, had found a way to stand. He stumbled slowly over to her.

He couldn't afford to be sad. Not right now. Not until he found out more.

"Ash... you bastard."

Her voice was quiet, the break in her words subtle...but the wet stain in the carpet spoke louder than anything else.

"Misty.."

She held her piplup tight, so tight that the pokemon was unable to properly breath. Her arms squeezing the poor pokemon, as her tears wet the fur on it's head. Piplup wanted to wiggle free, and free itself from the chamber of sadness that was it's trainer, but the pokemon couldn't. It's trainer sobbed continuously onto it's fur, and for once, piplup didn't cause a fus. Maybe it too, was a little sad for the penguin pokemon.

A million things rushed through her head all at once. All of her experiences with the boy she considered her best friend. The laughs, the fights, the battles and their very last high five. He helped shape her into the young woman she is today, and she owes so much to him.

Was that really it? The end of it all?

Already?

"M-Max... is this real?!"

May burst into the living room of her home, showing her phone to her little brother. The boy pushed up his glasses, and simply nodded. "It seems that way, yes."

"W-why-? How could somebody... how could they do that?" May found herself on her knees, absolute shock consuming her entire being. The dress for tonight's performance ripped as her weight fell upon it, leaving it in torn diagonally from the waist down.

"May..." Max wanted to hold his sister, to be there for her. But he was unable to bring himself to do anything other then stare at the poor woman, as she silently processed the shock.

He was smart, and maybe a bit devious. But he did have respect for Ash. For Max however, it was more about his older sister. The girl was emotional, and bratty. She had a mirror personality to Ash, and max had always figured that she would have been better off pursuing her crush on him, rather than Drew. Not that it was particularly important now.

He sighed, and knelt down to her level. He rubbed her back a few times, as the girl dealt with her grief, in a rather elementary way. Pointless grovelling won't solve anything.

"Everything is going to be okay, May.." He trailed off as he felt his vision begging to blur. He reached up beneath his glasses and rubbed something wet. "...tears?"

Maybe he had a bit more than just surface level respect for the fallen champion. Not that he would ever admit it.

Lillie hid underneath her covers. She held her blanket over her head and hid in far corner of her room, far from the shattered glass window that lay scattered across her floor. The horrid cacophony of sirens, screams, yells, alarms, and shattering glass filled her room from the street, just below, and she was unable to drown them out. The sun had set hours ago, yet a dim hue of orange still painted the sky. From where she was sitting, she could see the horizon that was illuminated by the crestfallen night, and the black funnels of smoke that rose from beyond the line of trees in the distance.

She had tried contacting her friends, Mallow, Lana, Kiawe or anyone else. Nobody read her messages. Satellite towers must've fallen, or been interrupted by something.

Melemele was in full anarchy. Her world was collapsing around her. She held her head, and tried to calm herself.

"Lillie!" The door to her room burst eventually open, and her brother came rushing in. His Lycanroc and Silvally in tow. "Where are you?! We have to go! Melemele isn't safe right now. There's a fairy leaving for Aether paradise, that's where everyone is going as a rendezvous point, we need to leave!"

Lillie was a drone throughout the short journey there. A mindless entity occupying a vessel of which was her body, as the two of them rode through what was reaming of Melemele. Jumping through walls of flame, large crowds of brawling civilians, ruined cars and frantic pokemon flying into crowded skies, running rampant through flooded streets, destroying buildings and knocking down trees and telephone poles into the street.

It was total chaos midst of great depression. She knew everyone was feeling it, especially those who were close to him. At that moment, a great shift occurred throughout Alola, and maybe even the world.

To her, it was the death of a close friend. Tragic, indeed. But to everyone else, it meant much more. A paradigm shift in the way the world will operate, for good or bad.

She hated it. It felt wrong. It didn't make sense.

Cynthia slammed her hand down onto the wooden table, in an attempt to smash the tension in the room. It did nothing to help. If anything, she merely added a drop in the already enormous ocean of stress. The high table full of champions seemed empty, despite only one occupant missing. The distinct lack of his presence in the chair on the farthest end made everything only feel more real.

"What other information do we have? Anybody?" Again, the blonde woman frantically looked around. Nobody else seemed to have anything. Not even a head shake or shaky response. "...We need something. This is more than just a high-profile case, it's a matter of foreign affairs."

"Why am I the only one doing anything about this?!" Cynthia knew she was being irrational, but at a time like this, it was almost impossible to keep a calm composure. In his short two year reign as The Grand Monarch, Cynthia had grown closer to Ash, now considering him a close personal friend. And she wasn't the only one, as the boy had a way of making even the coldest people grow attached. Ideally, she could push aside her feelings and focus on the more important matter of what they are to do with the void left in his presence.

"Cynthia." Lance spoke up, being the first one in the room to speak since she had begun thinking out loud over an hour ago. "To be honest with you, I'm more off put with your demeanor than I am by the claim of the kid's death. I am shaken too, yes, but take a minute to think." Lance brought out his rotom phone and tapped the screen a few times. After waiting for a moment, he flipped the screen over to show a blown up photo of the one that had been circling around the news websites. It was a blurry mess of pixels that depicted a severely injured and atrophied body that resembled Ash. But any distinguishing features such as his face were smeared in a mixture of red, brown, and black.

It looked like him, but it was impossible to tell for certain

"Look at the evidence, it's shaky. We only have poorly taken resolution photographs, and a confirmation from the league as a source. While we also have yet to hear anything from Ash, it's also not unlike him to suddenly vanish. He may just be up chasing after a pokemon. You have no reason to believe he's actually dead, until you see the body, with your own two eyes. Let's also not forget that he's come back from worse."

Cynthia grabbed her own head and leaned back into her seat. It felt like a mini person had jumped into her skull and was kicking the inside of her head, trying to escape. "Well, it's under forensic investigation right now by authorities working with a specialized unit, REC, I believe."

"Another acronym, interesting. And who's their parent company?"

"The PWC, I believe. They took over because of the fact that Ash operates under them–"

"Wait," from beside her, Iris, Unova champion, finally chimed in, wiping away a stray tear. She had been the one to speak the least. While the others champions would only speak a few words every hour, Iris had been completely quiet. It made sense, she had by far the most connection the "missing" champion, and was going through the most grief. She almost seemed like a ghost, and Cynthia felt bad for even forcing her attendance. She was no more an adult than Ash was, and perhaps it was expecting to much of the young woman.

When she spoke her tone was shaky, and unclear. "H-how can the league have access to his body, alongside the authorities? Is this n-not a murder case? How are they allowed to tamper with the evidence?"

"Well, they aren't." Cynthia said in response, "only... that doesn't mean they couldn't if they wanted to. However, if you're implying what I think, it's not a possibility. Ash is their golden boy, he brings in billions of revenue a year by himself. It's impossible, they probably just want to cease any stories from getting out. It's PR."

Steven too, suddenly chimed in on top of the conversation and added his two sense. "Ash isn't the type to stay down for long. Tell me, if you suddenly lost your biggest source of revenue, just because he "felt" like leaving," Steven did air quotes with his two fingers, "wouldn't you too, be pretty upset?"

"Yeah, " Iris said between sniffles, "D-doesn't it seem strange?" Cynthia looked to her other side, at the last Champion yet to speak on the current topic. Champion of Kalos, Diantha. The woman seemed to think for a moment, before nodding her head in agreement. "I have to admit, it is fishy, Cynthia. If another company picks up the rights to Ash along his way, that's a big market share suddenly swapped. Ash has precedence in three regions. If it wasn't for laws put in place, he would likely be the champion of Kanto, too. If you were the League, you could not afford to lose an asset like that. Both Alolan, and Galar operations would be lost, and Kanto/Johto relations would be shaky. You've seen the news, Alola is in full anarchy right now, and Galar, while not falling apart, is missing it's main attraction. If tourism drops off for them it's very bad for the economics fueling the nation."

Cynthia mumbled something under her breath. It was starting to become overwhelming. She felt her face growing hot with frustration, and even feel the tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes. She knew she wasn't acting like herself, and that she was being parly irrational. But nothing seemed to be going her way lately.

"What are we going to do?" The blonde woman leaned forward, giving up on even attempting to hold her composure. "Does it even matter if it was inside job? Ash is supposedly dead, right? Unless we can prove otherwise, things are only going to continue to get worse. And imagine the backlash if we can prove that it was indeed an act by the league. That would drop their own market value incredibly fast. Even now, no official battles are being conducted, they're profiting nothing. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense."

Lance was nodding along, until he let out a weary breath, "Unless they decided to enact a champion of their own."

The table had fallen quieter then it had been all night. Every head turning to stare at the dragon master. Tired eyes all staring right into his own. He sighed, and pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "In PWC contracts, it details a scenario depicting what would happen if a standing Champion where to get terminally Ill, step down, or die by another varying circumstance."

"...What does it say, then?"

Lance took a moment, he cleared his voice, and read directly from the page. "If under any circumstances, the Champion role of the regions underneath the league where to find itself vacant, a replacement candidate must be appointed, either temporarily or permanently within 365 days. Candidacy must be chosen by either the high-table of champions by unanimous decision, or the League will appoint another in their place 7 days following their failure."

Iris scratched at her head. "I-I don't get it, how does that relate to this?"

"If Ash's place in the hierarchy of champions is not filled, and we cannot somehow fill that newfound hole, the PWC has full eligibility to elect who they want. Maybe instead of money now, they're after something different."

"What would they be after then, if not money?"

"..Control."

His words were ice cold, and their implications sent surges of jitters down the spines of the champions of the table. They all knew what it meant, and seeing beyond their grief for a minute, showed a ugly sight of money, politics and government that they would be wrapped up in, directly in the middle of it all.

With a light bang, Cynthia felt her forhead hit the table. Her long unkempt hair spilled out onto the wooden surface. "Damn it.." she mumbled into the wood, no longer caring about her professionality or demeanour. Bigger things than such petty social fires were pending, and the implications for Ash's death go far beyond any of their personal feelings.

"I hate this." Iris spoke for them all when she said that.

They disbanded the meeting only half an hour later, with the five of them agreeing to meet later the next day. Cynthia barley made it back to her hotel room before she passed out on the far end of the queen bed, her entire body shutting down instantly to the sounds of the fan of the corner of the pasty hotel room walls, blowing a small breeze in her direction. She hated today, and she hated the day before.

She almost thought to hope it would all go away when she woke up, but even in the back of her exhausted mind, she knew.

This was only the beginning. She, and everyone else at that table today knew that.

"Wake, Ol' Chosen One."

It's voice came from everywhere, funneling down and around the chambers of light that blinded him. He's heard it before, the voice of a familiar god. They had meant once, years ago.

"Where am I...?" He asked slowly, likely knowing the answer that was to follow.

"You are where you were meant to be, treading lightly on the path of least fallacy. Threading the fine edge, your bodily form hanging in the balance on the mortal plane."

Ash narrowed his gaze. His eyes adjusting to the onslaught of bright light that made it impossible for him to see. The heavenly body in front of him confirmed what he had been thinking since the start. "Am I dead?"

"Your path ends here, as it always has. Dead, no. Your soul is much to valuable. You are my incarnate."

Ash looked down toward his palm, and for some reason he didn't feel sad. He didn't feel anything... he just felt empty. Not even a shred of sympathy for his lifelong partner pikachu, who was also likely dead. "...Why aren't I sad? Shouldn't I be sad?"

"Your soul still clings to its body. Desperately trying to hang onto the life dwindling from you. Soon, it shall return to us, and if you wish, we could start anew. "

"Then why am I here?"

"Your presence reminded me of what you stand for. It made me question your path. A soul like yours has no business dying when it did. As such, however, is nature of the life, I suppose. In the rare situation such as this, I often find myself regretting the rules I imposed. Of course in a batch of a near infinite amount of different life forms, all across my endless expanse, there was bound to be a few good apples who spoiled too early."

"I don't understand." Ash said, attempting to stand on what felt like a floor, but when he peered down, folded into nothing but cloudspace. Endless blue, white and yellow in every direction.

"What would you do for another chance, chosen one? I suppose it in my best interest to offer you a chance at redemption, no? You've even saved me once."

"Redemption? I don't know what I did wrong?"

"I guess redemption wouldn't be the right term... a second chance, if you will? What's the price you would pay to spend more time on earth, this time unscripted from my own willingness?"

"A second chance? Like, I get to live again?"

"More or less. However, it would go against my own rules to just dump you back onto the mortal realm. Even for you, Ash, a price must be paid."

The carnal desire to live again was the only factor driving his decision. It was an easy choice, seemingly. All upside, with little downside. The only thing you can't buy is more time. Even with all the money in the world. If your end draws near, there isn't much you can do. Life plays tricky games like that, he knows.

But he was so very wrong. The god, the boy found out later, was merciful, but strict in his ways. For the last time that his memory allowed him to see, he heard the faint rumble of the ancient one's grobbeling words.

"A price was paid.

through the rivers of dead still water,

push and pull, on the knives in the backs of martyrs

life in the burning fodder

cauterized and atrophied

this is your unbecoming."