A/N: Now that the main plot of this arc is fairly obvious, I can clarify a few things. This arc of my story is inspired by Pokémon: The Movie 2000 – The Power of One. However, some elements have been removed, others have been toned down, and certain events have been rearranged or completely rewritten to better fit my narrative.

So if you notice something from the movie that's missing or significantly different, that's most likely intentional. I conducted extensive research on the movie and spent hours incorporating its elements into my story in a way that feels more natural and doesn't strain suspension of disbelief.

Chapter 18: The Treasures

Standing amidst the crowd, eyes wide in realization, the anointed Chosen One blinked once, then twice. Then, as if struck by a bolt of pure confidence, he threw his fist into the air with a dramatic flourish.

"I, Gary Oak, shall fulfill my destiny and grace you all with my unparalleled skills!"

His voice rang through the night, full of bravado and self-assurance. The crowd erupted into cheers, swept up in the infectious energy of the proclamation. To the tourists and locals, it was a thrilling declaration of adventure, perfectly fitting for the grand festival.

Class 1-2, however, had a different reaction. They exchanged knowing glances, some smirking, others chuckling under their breath. They were all too familiar with Gary's antics when he wasn't playing his role as the ever-responsible class representative. This was just Gary being Gary—dramatic, confident, and utterly convinced of his own greatness.

As the lights returned to evenly illuminate the plaza, Tobias, standing with an air of composed authority, stepped forward once again. His calm presence was a stark contrast to Gary's flamboyance.

"An excellent declaration," Tobias said smoothly, his voice carrying over the lingering applause. "Now, Gary Oak, come to the stage so the people may see their Chosen One."

Gary needed no further invitation. Before making his way forward, he instinctively turned toward a particular individual in the crowd—Ash Ketchum.

A smirk played at the corners of Gary's lips. He said nothing, nor did he need to. His expression spoke volumes. This was yet another victory—Pallet Town, their school in Vermilion, and now, even in an entirely different region. No matter the setting, he was always a step ahead. He was just built differently.

Ash, however, didn't react the way most would expect.

His expression was eerily neutral, his amber eyes unreadable as they followed Gary's movements. He stood still, arms loosely at his sides, looking less like a rival and more like a passive observer. For a fleeting moment, his face was as blank as a statue—devoid of any disappointment, jealousy, or even mild irritation.

Because, truthfully? He felt nothing.

He had expected this. In fact, he had expected more from Gary—more gloating, more teasing, some kind of dramatic "In your face, Ketchum!" declaration. But all he got was a smirk. And honestly? It was kind of underwhelming.

Ash's gaze flickered briefly to the rooftop where the festival crew controlled the stage effects. He had seen how they selected the Chosen One. The moving spotlight had scanned the crowd before landing on Gary, and when he thought about it logically, the choice made perfect sense.

Gary fit every practical criterion.

Physically, he was taller and slightly more built—ideal for the traditional challenge of island-hopping. Socially, he was an outgoing, enthusiastic tourist, likely to post about the event on social media or, at the very least, brag about it to his peers. That was free advertising for Shamouti's tourism. Effort-wise, Gary had put in a lot of work to make this trip enjoyable for everyone. If anyone deserved the spotlight, it was him.

So no, Ash wasn't jealous. If anything, he was almost relieved. He had no desire to be tied to some mystical prophecy, and he certainly didn't believe in destiny. He actually pitied whoever got caught up in it.

As Gary made his way onto the stage, standing tall to Tobias' right, Melody took her position to the left. With her practiced grace, she gave the crowd a dazzling smile, embodying the role of the Festival Maiden to perfection.

Tobias, ever composed, gestured toward the audience. "Once again, let us show our appreciation for this year's Chosen One."

The crowd responded with another wave of applause, and Gary basked in the attention, giving a confident wave.

"Enjoy yourselves tonight," Tobias continued. "But as for our Chosen One, there is much to prepare. Meet me backstage shortly, and I shall explain what tomorrow holds for you."

Gary gave a firm nod, still reveling in the moment.

As Melody scanned the cheering crowd, her eyes naturally drifted over the many enthusiastic faces—excited tourists, clapping locals, children beaming with wonder. But then, something—or rather, someone—stood out.

A single person who didn't share the same energy as the rest.

It wasn't just that he wasn't clapping. There were calmer, more reserved people in the crowd who simply weren't the type to cheer loudly, but they still carried an air of enjoyment. This person, however, was completely disengaged.

His eyes weren't narrowed in irritation, nor did he wear any forced smile of politeness. His expression wasn't one of annoyance, boredom, or disappointment.

No—it was emptiness.

A look that suggested he wasn't even part of this moment. Like he was here, standing among them, yet emotionally miles away. It unsettled Melody just a little. Not in a fearful way—more in a "What's going through his head?" kind of way.

Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer before shifting back to the rest of the festival. Maybe it was nothing.

But something told her… it wasn't.

:･ﾟ(ꈍᴗꈍ)･ﾟ:

The air inside the room was cool, the faint hum of a ceiling fan the only sound breaking the silence. The walls were adorned with paintings of Shamouti's legendary festival, depicting vibrant celebrations of years past. A sturdy wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by plush chairs, giving the space a warm yet serious atmosphere.

Seated at the table were Tobias, his ever-calm expression unreadable; Ms. Chrysa, her arms crossed, her usual gentle demeanor laced with firm concern; and Gary Oak, leaning back with one leg casually draped over the other, his usual confidence radiating from his smirk.

"So, before we begin," Chrysa started, adjusting her glasses, "I want to make something clear."

Her gaze settled on Tobias, steady and unwavering. "As Gary's teacher, his safety is my responsibility. Whatever he's being asked to do tomorrow, I need to know the specifics. I have to make sure it's not reckless or dangerous."

Tobias met her eyes, nodding slightly. "Of course. That's a reasonable concern."

Tobias allowed a small, knowing smirk before clasping his hands together. "Rest assured, there is nothing to worry about. The task itself is quite simple."

He reached beside him, grasping the lid of a wooden chest that sat at the end of the table. With a smooth motion, he lifted it open, revealing its contents.

Inside, nestled on a deep blue velvet lining, were three crystal spheres. Each radiated a distinct, mesmerizing glow—one crackled with yellow lightning, its surface flickering with tiny bolts of electricity. Another pulsed with a warm orange glow, flames seemingly dancing within the glass. The last one shimmered with a serene blue light, frost-like patterns swirling beneath the surface.

Both Chrysa and Gary leaned forward, eyes drawn to the orbs like magnets.

"Whoa," Gary breathed, his smirk fading into genuine awe. "Now that's cool."

Chrysa's eyes flickered with curiosity. "What… are these?"

Tobias looked at them with a glint of reverence. "These are the Treasures of Fire, Ice, and Lightning," he explained, his voice low and steady. "Artifacts tied to the legend of Shamouti Island. They are the key to the festival's final ceremony."

He gently picked up the orb of lightning, rolling it in his palm as faint sparks crackled inside.

"Tomorrow, Gary's role as the Chosen One will be to retrieve three treasures—one from each of the three islands that rest just north of Shamouti. Later, they will be placed in shrines at the foot of the main hills of each island in preparation for his arrival."

He returned the lightning orb to the chest before looking at Chrysa. "And before you worry—Gary will not be alone."

Chrysa exhaled slightly, but her gaze remained firm.

Tobias continued, "A small boat will take him to the islands, helmed by a local captain. Additionally, he will have a guide—another local who is familiar with the terrain. His job is simply to retrieve the spheres and return here to complete the festival."

Chrysa considered this, glancing at Gary, who was still staring at the chest, captivated by the glowing relics.

"And what happens once all three are collected?" she asked.

Tobias nodded approvingly at the question. "Once all treasures are in hand, Gary is to return to the plaza. There, Melody, the Festival Maiden, will guide him to the Shamouti Shrine, where he will place them on their designated pedestals. She will then perform the final song to mark the completion of the festival."

He closed the chest with a soft thunk, letting the weight of his words settle in the room.

Gary finally leaned back, crossing his arms with a confident smirk. "So, let me get this straight. I take a boat to three islands, grab these cool little artifacts, bring 'em back, and get paraded around like a big hero?"

Tobias chuckled lightly. "That is the essence of it, yes."

Gary's smirk widened. "Sounds easy enough. I'll be done before lunchtime."

Chrysa sighed, rubbing her temple. "Just don't treat it like a game, Gary. You still need to be careful."

"Yes, ma'am." Gary waved her off with a lazy grin. "I got this." Chrysa sighed, Gary was really something else when he was not on duty as their class representative.

Tobias observed their exchange with an amused look before standing. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow morning, before sunrise, you will set out."

Gary gave a thumbs-up. "Consider it done."

As they rose from their seats, Chrysa cast one last glance at the chest. The glowing spheres still flickered through the cracks, their mysterious energy lingering in the room.

For a festival built on legends… it was starting to feel like something more.

:･ﾟ(ꈍᴗꈍ)･ﾟ:

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and distant bonfires from the festival. The rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore was muffled beneath the rustling leaves as Ash slipped into the dense grove behind the hotel. His footsteps were careful, light against the soft ground, ensuring he didn't attract any unwanted attention.

The moment he was deep enough into the trees, he knelt and unzipped his bag, releasing the restless stowaway.

"Alright, Pichu, stretch out and go potty if you need to."

The tiny Electric-type hopped out with an excited squeak, landing gracefully on the grass before scampering a few feet away into a bush. Ash let out a quiet sigh and leaned against a tree, giving his shoulders a break from the weight of his bag. But as he did, a faint smell hit his nose—something sour and unpleasant. His eyes narrowed as realization dawned.

"…Oh man," he muttered, grimacing.

Tipping the bag forward, he shook it out, watching as food crumbs, old wrappers, and bits of squashed snacks tumbled onto the ground. No wonder it reeked. It was practically a mini trash can at this point. He quickly fished out a small spray bottle of alcohol from one of the pockets and dampened a rag, scrubbing the inside of the bag to rid it of the lingering smell. Pichu might have snuck in, but at the very least, Ash wasn't going to make him sit in filth.

Just as he was finishing, Pichu emerged from the bush, his ears twitching in satisfaction.

"You done?" Ash asked, zipping the now cleaner bag shut.

Pichu nodded, flashing a toothy grin as he trotted back over. Ash gave him a pat on the head, about to scoop him up when the Pokémon suddenly froze. His ears perked up again, but this time in alert. A second later, he turned his head toward something in the distance.

"What is it?" Ash asked, following his gaze.

Pichu turned back to him, making an urgent motion with his tiny paws before darting off into the trees.

"Pichu, hey—" Ash hissed, keeping his voice low.

The last thing he needed was for Ms. Chrysa to find out he wasn't in bed. But his Pokémon had already vanished into the night, forcing him to quickly shoulder his bag and follow.

Pushing through the underbrush, he stepped carefully over gnarled roots and loose stones, tracking the flashes of yellow ahead of him. Pichu was fast, but eventually, the chase led him to a small clearing where moonlight pooled onto the forest floor.

And there, perched atop a large rock, was a girl.

She wasn't just sitting idly—she was laughing, her voice light and carefree, as she pet Pichu, who had comfortably settled on her lap.

Ash halted at the sight, blinking in mild surprise. The girl looked about his age, dressed in a mix of casual and local island wear. She had a green cap resting over her long red hair, and a pair of yellow sunglasses—an odd choice, considering it was the middle of the night. Multiple necklaces hung around her neck, one with an orange gemstone, the other blue. She wore a pink and black top, blue jeans with large leg cuffs, an orange belt, and cream sandals.

She looked up then, her laughter fading as her gaze met his.

For a moment, she simply stared at him, assessing him. Then, with a small shrug, she said, "Oh, is this little guy yours?"

Ash crossed his arms, giving Pichu a pointed look. "Yeah. Sorry if he bothered you."

The girl waved off his concern. "Not at all. I could actually use the company."

Ash hesitated for a second before giving a reluctant nod. He leaned against a nearby tree, shifting his gaze upward. The moon hung bright in the sky, casting its silver glow across the clearing.

The girl followed his gaze. "You a tourist?" she asked, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah," Ash replied simply, still watching the sky.

"You were at the festival earlier, right?"

A pause.

"…Yeah."

His tone didn't give anything away—no indication of excitement, enjoyment, or even mild interest. It was as neutral as his expression had been in the plaza.

The girl tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "What'd you think of it?"

Ash didn't immediately answer. It wasn't that he was hiding his thoughts—he honestly didn't know how to respond. The festival had been… fine? He hadn't disliked it, but he also hadn't felt particularly attached to it.

Thankfully, before he had to come up with an answer, Pichu saved him.

The tiny Pokémon scampered up to him, leaping onto his shoulder and rubbing their cheeks together with a happy chirp. The familiar crackle of static tickled his skin, earning a faint smile from Ash as he reached up to scratch behind Pichu's ear.

The girl chuckled at the scene, then exhaled, her gaze returning to the sky. "Honestly? I don't believe in the legend myself."

That caught Ash's attention. He turned his head slightly, his expression questioning.

She smirked. "Surprised? Thought all the locals were obsessed with it?"

He didn't answer, but the silence was enough of a confirmation.

She sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "I have to play along, though. It's just how things are here."

Her voice carried a hint of something—resignation, maybe. A weariness that didn't quite fit the lively energy she had earlier.

She hesitated for a beat before continuing. "Honestly… I don't even want to stay here. I want to leave the island. Move to a city. Study. Like most people my age already have."

Ash blinked, caught off guard by the sudden personal revelation.

"But," she went on, her voice quieter now, "my sister—Carol—wants me to stay. She was the Festival Maiden before me, but she's too old for it now. She thinks I should carry on the tradition."

The weight of her words hung in the air.

Ash, for the first time, felt a flicker of unease. He barely knew this girl, and yet she was telling him all this? He wasn't exactly good at dealing with personal stuff—especially when it came from complete strangers.

The girl must have sensed his discomfort because she suddenly let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Sorry. Didn't mean to dump all that on you. I guess I just needed to vent."

Ash rubbed the back of his neck. He still didn't know what to say, so he simply gave a small nod.

"To make up for it," she added with a grin, "how about I be your tour guide for the night? Show you something cool."

Ash frowned. "You don't have to do that. I mean… all I did was listen."

"Still, I insisted." She stood up, dusting off her jeans before flashing him a teasing smirk. "C'mon, don't tell me you're scared of getting dragged around by a stranger?"

Ash huffed. "I'm not scared."

"Then let's go."

Ash exhaled, already regretting this decision. But refusing now would just be rude, and he didn't really have an excuse to leave.

"…Fine," he relented, pushing off the tree.

As she led the way, Ash made a mental note for himself.

Next time, don't get dragged into random situations by strangers.

The path up the mountain was oddly pristine. Wide and smooth, not a single loose rock or overgrown root disturbed their steps. It wasn't the usual rugged trail one would expect from a remote island hike.

Ash Ketchum, hands in his pockets, took notice. "Huh… This path is way too clear. No debris, no overgrown grass. Feels like it's taken care of on purpose."

Beside him, the girl adjusted her green cap. "It should be. This is the route the Chosen One takes at the end of the festival."

They had been walking for quite a while now, the incline growing steeper with every step. The salty ocean breeze was stronger here, and the sound of distant waves crashing against the cliffs echoed through the night.

"Where exactly are we going?" Ash finally asked, breaking the silence.

The girl didn't answer right away. Instead, she led him around the bend of the path—

And then the view opened before them.

A vast clearing stretched out at the mountain's peak, bathed in the cool glow of the moonlight. At the center stood an ancient stone altar, circular and weathered with time. Seven towering stone pillars surrounded it like silent guardians, each one cracked and worn by the elements. In the middle of the altar lay a massive carved tablet, its intricate symbols etched deep into the stone. The designs matched the island's theme perfectly as if it were woven into the land itself.

But what really caught Ash's attention were the islands in the distance.

Three of them, dark and foreboding, rose like shadows against the ocean's silver surface. From this height, he could see the way the cliffs dropped steeply into the water. They were standing on a high vantage point—one that overlooked everything.

The girl pulled off her green cap and slid her yellow sunglasses atop her head, letting the cool night air brush against her face. "This," she said, staring at the altar, "is the Shamouti Altar."

Ash turned to her, his eyes widening in recognition. "Wait… You're the Festival Maiden. You are, Melody, correct?

She glanced at him, lips curling into an amused smirk. "Took you long enough to figure that out. And you, what's your name?"

"Ash and, of course, this, is Pichu," Ash smiled and Pichu waved his tiny arm.

Melody then pointed toward the circular stone tablet. At its center was a carved opening, a hollowed-out space designed to fit something precise.

"That's where the Chosen One is supposed to place the treasures from all three islands," she explained. "And when that happens… I'll play my song."

Melody lifted her conch-shaped ocarina to her lips and played a soft melody—one Ash recognized from earlier in the plaza. But here, in the stillness of the night, it sounded different. More haunting. More beautiful.

The notes danced through the air, carried by the sea breeze. It was mesmerizing.

When she finished, she lowered the instrument and exhaled softly. "I saw you in the plaza, you know," she admitted. "You didn't look very interested in the festival."

Ash blinked, not expecting that. He looked away, rubbing the back of his head.

"That's why I asked you about it earlier." She studied him for a moment. "And that's why I told you how I don't really believe in it either."

Ash met her gaze. This time, he saw something there—uncertainty. Like she wasn't just talking about the festival itself, but something deeper.

He let a moment of silence settle between them before he finally spoke. "I meant no disrespect to your traditions," he said, voice steady. "And I don't doubt the reality of your legend. But I don't believe in destiny."

Melody tilted her head. "Then what do you believe in?"

"Hard work." His answer was simple but resolute. "I believe people become successful because of their own efforts. Not because they get 'Chosen' by fate and they're destined to be so."

Melody stared at him, lips parted slightly. She wasn't expecting an answer like that.

And yet… she found herself admiring it.

It was the first time someone had said something like that to her.

Hope flickered in her chest. If Ash could reject the idea of fate, then maybe—just maybe—she could too.

"Ash…" she hesitated, then took a breath. "Do you think I could break free from this role? The one given to me by my sister and the village elders? I never chose to be the Festival Maiden… I was assigned to it. But what if I don't want it? What if I want to choose my own path?"

Ash's expression softened. "Melody…"

BOOM!

A violent explosion ripped through the night.

Then another.

Then another.

Both of them flinched as three separate bursts of fire and smoke erupted from each of the islands in the distance.

Pichu squeaked in alarm, clinging onto Ash's shoulder.

Melody gasped, her eyes going wide. "What was that—?!"

Ash didn't answer. His fists clenched, his heart pounding.

Something was wrong.

And it was only the beginning.

:･ﾟ(ꈍᴗꈍ)･ﾟ:

A/N: I'm getting as many chapters out as I can before things get busy again, so enjoy them while you can! I've got some medical appointments coming up that might make it harder to update in the future. I'll post as much as I can before my health slows me down.