Chapter 33: Outnumbered
The world blurred around Ash as he ran. His feet barely touched the ground, the pounding of his heartbeat drowning out all other sounds, merging with the steady rhythm of his breath. He wasn't thinking, not in the way he normally would, but he didn't need to. His body knew where to go. His mind had already locked onto its target.
Aura surged through his muscles, flooding his limbs with strength, sharpening his focus, fueling every stride. It was hidden from view, unseen to the world, but he felt it thrumming beneath his skin, making him faster than he should have been, on par with the school's top athletes. Maybe slightly faster than that.
But he didn't care.
He didn't register the students turning their heads in confusion as he sped past. They didn't matter. None of them did.
The only thing that mattered was the glowing signature burning in his mind...
Damian.
He had gone too far.
There was a line between training and cruelty, a boundary that even the harshest mentors respected. Damian had trampled over it without hesitation. That wasn't discipline. That wasn't preparation. That was torture.
A flicker of blonde in his periphery, a flash of movement barely registering in his mind. Korrina had just stepped out of her club building, a relaxed expression on her face, but it vanished the moment she spotted him. Her entire demeanor shifted, the casual ease in her stance replaced by something sharper, something more alert.
Confusion crossed her features first, followed swiftly by concern. And then, deeper than that, an understanding that went unspoken.
She knew something was wrong.
Her mouth opened, the beginnings of a question forming.
But by the time her voice could leave her lips, Ash was already gone.
(๑• .̫ •ू๑)
Laughter echoed through the indoor battlefield, lighthearted and careless, blending with the rustle of snack bags being crumpled and tossed aside. The air was thick with the lingering scent of junk food and faint wisps of smoke curling from the vape pen between Damian's fingers.
He lounged on the bench with his usual self-assured ease, slouching lazily as he took a slow drag before exhaling through his nose, watching the vapor swirl in the air. One of his friends cracked a joke, something crude, and Damian's lips curled into a smirk, his posture one of complete relaxation.
Then the door slammed open.
The shift in the room was instant.
The easy atmosphere shattered, laughter cutting off mid-breath. Conversations died. The lighthearted buzz of the space vanished, replaced by something far heavier, something invisible yet suffocating.
Damian didn't move at first, but every muscle in his body tensed, reacting before his mind even caught up. His fingers curled around the vape in his hand before he shoved it into his pocket, his instincts prickling even though he wasn't sure why.
Then he saw him.
Ash stood in the doorway, framed by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, his expression unreadable. He wasn't charging in, wasn't shouting, wasn't throwing a punch the way some hotheaded idiot might have. No, he was just walking, each step deliberate, slow, controlled.
And yet...
Something was wrong.
Damian's spine stiffened before he could stop himself, a prickle of unease crawling beneath his skin.
His lips pulled into a smirk, though the confidence behind it was forced. "Geez, what's with you, first-year-boy? Ever heard of knocking?" His tone was light, dismissive, but the words didn't carry the same weight they usually did.
Ash didn't respond.
He didn't blink. Didn't falter.
His brown eyes, so often filled with warmth and reckless energy, were devoid of either. Instead, they burned with something far more dangerous, something cold, something focused.
Damian's throat went dry.
One of his lackeys shifted beside him, casting a wary glance between the two. Another exhaled sharply, an uneasy sound barely loud enough to register.
The silence stretched.
Damian forced out a chuckle, leaning back again as if unaffected. "What, you want something? Snacks? A seat at the big kids' table?"
Ash stopped. His feet planted firmly, his shoulders squared, his gaze unwavering.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet—measured.
"Why did you do it?"
Damian blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected question. "Huh?"
One of his friends muttered under his breath, "I think he's talking about Charmander. Seen him at the Breeders' Club before."
Something flickered in Damian's expression, brief but noticeable. His mind flashed back to an earlier encounter, Ash approaching him once, telling him to take better care of his Pokémon. At the time, he'd brushed it off, barely sparing the kid a second thought.
But now?
Now Ash was standing in front of him, staring at him with something close to disgust.
Damian scoffed, shifting his weight as he forced a casual shrug. "Oh, that? Come on, you're overreacting. He's fine. I patched him up real good—sprays, berries, the usual. He just needs to sleep it off."
Ash's fingers twitched at his sides.
Memories flashed through his mind, Charmander's frail, battered body curled up in the corner of the Breeders' Club, the sickly sheen of first-aid spray barely masking the deep bruises beneath his scales. The way his stomach had been unnaturally swollen from being force-fed berries he could barely swallow, his weak limbs trembling as he tried and failed to stand.
Something in Ash's Aura changed.
It wasn't visible. It didn't need to be.
But Damian felt it.
The pressure in the room shifted, something unseen pressing down on them, thick and suffocating.
Like standing too close to a Gyarados in the midst of using Intimidate.
One of his lackeys swallowed hard, looking at Damian as if expecting him to do something.
Even Damian, for all his bravado, wasn't immune to it.
Ash took another step forward.
Damian's body flinched before he could stop himself.
The room was deathly silent.
The weight of it all was crushing, hanging over them like an unseen force, and for the first time since Ash had walked in, Damian felt something dangerously close to fear creeping into his chest.
But he shoved it down, forced his lips into a smirk, though it lacked its usual confidence. "What, you gonna fight me over some stupid fire lizard?"
His voice wavered.
Everyone in the room heard it.
Ash fought the urge to lash out. Instead, he steadied himself, forcing calm over his instincts. When he spoke again, his voice was like steel, sharp, cutting, and devoid of hesitation.
"Charmander was half-dead when I found him. Covered in bruises. Barely breathing. His stomach was swollen because you forced berries down his throat when he couldn't even swallow."
Damian's smirk twitched, faltered.
His lackeys exchanged uneasy glances. They had seen what he did to Charmander, but at the time, they hadn't thought much about it. It was just training, right?
But hearing Ash say it out loud, spelling it out in plain, unforgiving detail...
It made it real.
One of them shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. Another clenched his jaw and looked away.
Damian laughed. Short. Sharp. Forced.
"Tch. What, you think you're some kind of hero?" He leaned forward, regaining some of his usual bravado. "This is how you make a Pokémon stronger. Charmander wouldn't survive in a real fight if I babied it. It had to toughen up. That's how it works."
Ash inhaled slowly, the sound steady, controlled. Too controlled.
His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made the air feel even heavier.
"Do you even understand what you put Charmander through? If I did the same to you… would you still call it training?"
Silence.
A single, charged second.
Then...
Bang.
Damian's hands slammed onto the bench, the sharp crack of skin meeting wood slicing through the stillness like a Sonic Boom.
He rose to his feet in one swift motion, his lackeys moving with him, muscle memory and pack mentality guiding them before their brains had even caught up.
It didn't matter that Ash had a reason to be angry. It didn't matter that, for a split second, something about the first-year set off alarms in his instincts.
What mattered was that a lower-year had just implied a threat to an upper-year.
Unacceptable.
A slow, lazy smirk stretched across Damian's lips, but there was something predatory in it this time, something sharper. "Wow. And here I was gonna let you off the hook since you helped us out in the play," he drawled, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "But nah. This?" His gaze darkened. "This is disrespect."
The others stepped forward, their movements casual, but deliberate.
They towered over Ash, their combined presence casting long, suffocating shadows.
Ash glared back at them, showing no sign of being overwhelmed by their numbers. Instead, he remained keenly observant, watching for even the slightest twitch of their muscles. A part of him urged him to turn and walk away, but he ignored it. He needed something concrete to come out of this.
He didn't want to instigate anything. He didn't want another scolding from the principal, or worse, his mother. But if they were the ones to start something, then he would simply have to respond accordingly.
A knuckle cracked. The sound was deafening in the tight space.
"Sorry, Ash," one of them said, rolling his shoulders. "This ain't a play anymore."
Another took a step closer, his lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "We'll show you what a real fight is."
The last one didn't speak. Instead, he lunged forward, fist drawn back, ready to strike.
Ash's body moved like water, instinct and training merging into something seamless. He twisted to the side, the attack missing him by a hair. The first lackey's swing was overconfident, clumsy, an opening screaming to be punished.
He could feel his unseen Aura coursing through his muscles, primed to add weight to his strikes.
His fist snapped upward in a clean uppercut, striking the underside of the attacker's chin. A quick follow-up blow to the chest sent him sprawling backward, his body hitting the floorboards with a sickening thud.
The others hesitated.
Surprise flickered across their faces, an instant of doubt, of disbelief at how easily Ash had dropped their friend.
Then their shock twisted into something sharper. Anger.
Two of them charged at once.
Ash exhaled sharply, shifting his stance. 'Stay calm. Think.'
He wasn't just fighting. He was reading them, their balance, their movements, the way their energy shifted.
Korrina's training kicked in. 'Don't let them swarm you.'
He shifted left, forcing one of them slightly ahead of the other, turning a two-on-one into a staggered one-on-one.
The first lackey swung, a wild, overconfident haymaker. Rookie mistake.
Ash stepped in fast, cutting off the angle. His feet planted. His torso twisted.
First strike. A precise hook to the liver. The punch dug in deep, and the third-year jerked, a strangled noise escaping his throat as his body seized up from the pain.
Follow-up. A straight punch to the nose. Ash felt cartilage crunch beneath his knuckles. The lackey's head snapped back, blood spurting as his knees buckled.
He hit the floor with a gasping wheeze, clutching his midsection. Down.
The last lackey snarled, rage twisting his face as he lunged. Fast.
But not fast enough.
Ash saw it before it even happened. The way the guy tensed, the way his shoulders bunched. The shift of weight in his legs. The overextension in his swing. Sloppy. Predictable.
A hammer fist arced toward his head, full force, a move meant to crush.
Another mistake.
Ash reacted without thinking. His body moved fluidly, instincts and newfound Aura precision blending together. He sidestepped, just enough for the fist to cut through air. His knee shot up. Hard and precise.
It drove into the teen's solar plexus, a devastating strike to the diaphragm. Air rushed from his lungs in a strangled wheeze.
Ash followed up instantly. An elbow strike crashed against his ear. A sharp, brutal impact.
The lackey's entire body convulsed. His eyes widened in shock. Then his limbs gave out.
He collapsed onto the floor, gasping like a fish out of water. Done.
Ash straightened, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled. His knuckles stung, but the adrenaline numbed it.
Then…
His Aura Vision flared, warning him of a sudden shift from behind. Instinct took over as Ash turned, just in time. Damian was already mid-swing, a mop arcing toward his head in a desperate, reckless attack. Without hesitation, Ash's hand shot up, catching the wooden handle mid-swing. The impact jolted up his arm, but he barely registered it, his grip firm, unwavering. For a moment, neither of them moved. Damian's eyes widened, just a fraction, just enough to betray the realization that he had made a mistake.
Ash didn't give him time to recover. With a sharp yank, he tore the mop from Damian's grasp, twisting it in one fluid motion as he adjusted his hold near the center. Then, without breaking stride, he slammed the handle against his knee. The wood splintered with a sharp crack, snapping clean in two. The mop head tumbled to the floor, landing with a dull, lifeless clatter, but Ash didn't spare it a glance. He twirled the broken handle once in his grip, feeling its weight, testing its balance, his movements smooth and deliberate.
Then he looked at Damian. Silent. Expectant. He tapped the broken mop handle once against his palm, light, deliberate. Waiting.
"You're next."
Damian's breath hitched. His stomach clenched. The room felt smaller, air thickening, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
His skin prickled, cold sweat dampening the back of his neck, his instincts screaming at him to run.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
His pride had its claws sunk too deep, anchoring him in place.
Still, he forced his hands up in a placating gesture, palms open, his voice dipping into a shallow, artificial calm. He needed to stall. He needed time to figure things out.
"Relax. Let's talk about this."
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew how pathetic they sounded.
Weak. Hollow.
His throat was dry, his heartbeat pounding so hard against his ribs that he swore Ash could hear it.
Damian had seen it all happen right in front of him. The way Ash tore through his lackeys like they were nothing. Every movement was calculated, precise, and fluid, a stark contrast to the wild, reckless brawling Damian had come to expect from school fights.
Ash didn't fight like some desperate kid throwing punches in a schoolyard scrap.
There was no hesitation. No wasted motion.
Damian could only blame Korinna for this.
His fingers curled into tight fists, nails biting into his palms. He needed an out. He needed something, anything, to turn this around.
His gaze flickered to the side, and there, he saw it. A movement behind Ash.
The first two lackeys who had been floored moments ago were stirring. Slowly. Weakly. But moving nonetheless.
Dragging themselves up.
Quietly.
Perfect.
The panic coiled in Damian's chest loosened ever so slightly. A plan formed, slithering into his mind like a whisper of hope. He just needed to stall for a few more seconds, just enough time for them to get up, to make their move.
Swallowing down his nerves, he forced himself to ease his shoulders, exhaling slowly as if he had just come to some grand realization. His expression softened, his lips curving into something between regret and reluctant acceptance.
"I get it, okay?" he muttered, voice dipping into something almost apologetic. "I'm in the wrong. I promise I won't do it again."
Lies. And Ash didn't seem to believe him even for a single second.
The unwavering stare burned straight through Damian, cold and unreadable, relentless in its quiet intensity. The weight of it pressed down on him, setting his nerves alight.
No matter. His lackeys lunged.
But Ash was also already moving.
His body twisted with the grace of a striking Seviper, his movement impossibly smooth, his reactions instantaneous. He wasn't reacting to the attack. He had already anticipated it.
The mop handle swung in a sharp, decisive arc
CRACK.
The first lackey's pained cry barely had time to escape before his leg crumpled beneath him, his entire body collapsing to the floor in a heap. His limbs jerked once, then stilled, useless, as if he had been severed from his own strings.
The second barely had time to process what had happened before Ash's foot snapped up in a merciless, whip-like motion...
A brutal kick to the face.
The impact was sickening. A dull, meaty thud.
A muffled groan.
Then... silence.
Damian's breath hitched, a sharp inhale that he barely registered.
No.
No way.
This wasn't right. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He had thought, no, he had been sure, that Ash was just some reckless idiot who got lucky, someone who would crumble under pressure the moment he ran out of steam. But this, this was different.
Ash turned back to him, slow and deliberate, his face unreadable, his breathing calm, his stance unwavering.
No arrogance. No gloating. No lingering aggression.
Just silence.
Ash saw it in his Aura Vision. The other students were done. Their movements had slowed to a crawl before stopping altogether, their will to fight shattered. One by one, they limped off to the side, battered and beaten, no longer his concern.
Good. They weren't his problem anymore.
He exhaled slowly. The cold focus that had guided him, the invisible force that had sharpened his reflexes and amplified his strikes, faded as he consciously let go of his Aura-enhanced movements. The suffocating pressure he had radiated vanished, leaving only his Aura Vision active, just in case the others decided to interfere again.
He didn't want to rely on his aura in this last fight. He wanted to defeat Damian on his own. The same hands that had treated Charmander countless times before, the hands that had cradled its vulnerable form earlier, would be the ones to put Damian down.
Fair and square.
Smart? No.
Prideful? Maybe.
Satisfying? Absolutely.
Deliberately, Ash took a step back and tossed the broken mop handle aside. A test. A challenge.
He wanted to remain on the defensive. He had to, in order to make this work, to force Damian to make the first move, to be the instigator.
Across from him, Damian's smirk returned. The weight, the sheer, overwhelming presence that had pressed down on him, was gone. And in its place, all he saw was a kid.
'That's all it was', Damian thought, confidence swelling. 'Some dumb adrenaline rush. He's outta gas.'
His grin stretched as he rolled his shoulders. "Heh. That's it? That wore you out already?" His arrogance resurfaced, feeding off the illusion of control. "Typical. That's what you are, intro-boy. A quick burst, but no stamina. You got nothin' left. Now I'll show you how to win the late game."
He cracked his neck.
Then he lunged.
His fists blurred—fast, vicious, relentless.
A sharp jab. A brutal hook. An upward swing meant to end it.
And every single one missed.
Ash didn't flinch.
He slipped under the jab. Tilted away from the hook. Sidestepped the uppercut, letting it whistle past his ear.
Every strike scraped the air. Every attack landed inches short.
Damian's frustration boiled over. "So dodging's all you ca..."
He never finished the sentence.
The fist came out of nowhere.
A clean, precise jab.
Damian barely registered the hit before he tasted blood.
His head snapped to the side. A sharp sting tore across his split lip. He staggered, blinking through the haze.
Then the real pain came.
A vicious hook slammed into his ribs.
The air was torn from his lungs in an ugly gasp. His knees buckled.
And then...
CRACK.
A final, devastating punch crashed into his chin.
Damian's world shattered.
The ceiling twisted. The walls blurred. The floor rushed up to meet him, cold and unyielding. His ears rang, drowning out everything. His limbs refused to respond. His body ached in places he couldn't even name.
And yet, lying there with half-lidded eyes and a small trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Damian still forced a smirk onto his battered face.
"You're so screwed, Ketchum," Damian groaned, blinking rapidly as he pushed himself up, ignoring the fire in his ribs. His hands trembled, just for a second, before he clenched them into fists. His gaze flickered to Ash, who stood motionless. No follow-up attack. Uninjured.
That's when Damian's lip curled into a smirk, "The principal's gonna hear about this. A first-year attacking four third-years, who, being the good students we are, didn't even fight back?"
His smirk widened, gaining strength. "That's an easy suspension. Maybe even expulsion."
Ash still didn't react.
Instead, he simply lifted a hand and pointed.
Damian followed his finger.
To the security camera in the corner.
Damian's smirk froze.
Then Korrina burst through the door, her eyes scanning the area. The sight of four third-years on the floor and Ash standing tall, made her pause for only a second.
"Ash!" she called, rushing toward him. "Are you okay?"
He exhaled slowly, shaking off the last of the adrenaline. "Yeah."
But she wasn't convinced. Not yet. Her sharp gaze flickered to Damian, who sat on the floor, stunned and seething. The tension in the room was still thick, but the fight was over.
Without another word, she pulled out her phone. "I'm calling security."
(๑• .̫ •ू๑)
The screen on the wall remained frozen, paused mid-frame, capturing the moment Damian and his friends stood up from their seats.
No one spoke.
The only sounds in the principal's office were the faint hum of the monitor and the distant whistling of a janitor in the hall. The dusky evening sky cast long shadows through the window behind the principal's desk. The air was thick, almost suffocating.
On one side of the room, Ash sat with Korrina, arms crossed tightly, jaw set. Across from them, Damian and his friends sat shoulder to shoulder, their expressions ranging from sullen to outright hostile. Damian's right cheek was swollen, his glare burning with resentment.
Between them, the principal sat in his chair, fingers laced together. His gaze, however, was on Brock, who stood beside the screen, arms crossed.
Brock exhaled. When he finally spoke, his voice was firm, steady.
"The security footage clearly shows Ash Ketchum arriving at the indoor training field and confronting Damian about Charmander's condition. They argued for a moment. Rather than addressing the issue, Damian and his friends escalated things into a physical fight."
He swiped across his phone, and the video resumed.
The room watched in silence:
•Three third-years closing in on a single first-year.
•Ash standing his ground, dodging, blocking... never throwing the first punch.
•Damian's sneak attack with a mop.
•Ash disarming him...
•...only for the others to jump him from behind.
•Ash taking them down in seconds.
•Damian swinging wildly, missing, before getting countered and floored.
•Korrina rushing in beside Ash, immediately calling security.
The footage paused.
Brock tapped his phone again. The screen changed.
Pictures of Charmander appeared.
•Before treatment.
•During treatment.
•After treatment.
The bruises. The burns. The raw, inflamed skin.
The sickly swelling in Charmander's belly.
The sheer exhaustion in his limp body.
Ash clenched his fists and forced himself to look away. He couldn't stare at it any longer.
Brock's voice remained calm, but there was steel in it.
"I've warned Damian multiple times about his treatment of Charmander." He gestured to the images. "But this..." His voice hardened. "This is the worst case I've seen. Not just in my time as a club advisor, but in this entire school."
A slow, deliberate pause.
"Frankly, I fear what might have happened if Charmander had stayed with him. Or what could happen if Damian is ever allowed to be a trainer."
A heavy silence followed.
Even Damian's lackeys looked uneasy. They had known Charmander got hurt,but seeing the proof laid out like this made it real.
Damian, however, only clenched his jaw tighter, his swollen cheek twitching.
The principal exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. He tapped his fingers against his desk before speaking.
"How is Charmander now?"
Brock's posture softened slightly. "Stable. He's recovering at the Pokémon Center."
The principal nodded, visibly displeased but relieved. "Good."
Then his gaze shifted to the third-years.
"Tomorrow morning, I expect your parents or guardians in my office."
Damian and his friends barely reacted. They knew this was coming.
But then the principal added, "And don't try bringing random people as 'guardians.' We have direct contacts for your parents. If you don't inform them, we will." His voice was sharp. "Handle this properly."
That got a reaction. One of Damian's friends swallowed hard. Another fidgeted slightly, looking more regretful by the second.
The principal turned to Ash. His tone softened, slightly.
"Ash, you're free to go. No need to bring a guardian."
Ash blinked. He had expected some kind of punishment, even though he had made sure to act in self-defense. Well, he did disrespect the third-years, so he was at fault to some extent, a detail lost in the midst of the altercation. But in the end, they were the ones who threw the first punch.
The principal continued, "However, I do want your guardian informed. Have them call us to confirm they're aware of what happened."
Ash nodded. That was fair.
Finally, the principal leaned forward, hands folded.
"Ash, you're dismissed."
Ash hesitated only for a moment before pushing himself up.
Then...
"You four," the principal said, voice flat. "Stay here for twenty more minutes."
Damian's glare snapped to him. "What? Why?"
The principal didn't even look at him.
"I'm giving Ash a head start home."
Damian clenched his jaw. But he didn't argue.
Ash didn't wait any longer. He turned and walked out the door, Korrina following close behind.
Brock lingered for a second longer, casting a final glance at Damian, still stiff, fists clenched, before stepping out as well.
The door shut behind them.
Leaving the four third-years alone.
Under the principal's cold, unblinking stare.
"Damian, your actions today were unacceptable. Your parents will be called in first thing in the morning." He exhaled through his nose, unimpressed by Damian's glare.
"As for your status as a student here…" His voice turned cold. "That will be decided tomorrow. But don't expect things to go back to normal."
(๑• .̫ •ू๑)
Ash and Korrina strolled through the dimly lit school paths, the glow of the lampposts casting long shadows. The evening breeze was cool against Ash's face, a stark contrast to the heated emotions from earlier. The tension in his muscles had finally started to ease, but the weight of everything that had happened still lingered in his mind.
"I've been noticing Damian's cold treatment of Charmander for a while now," Korrina admitted, arms crossed as they walked toward the Breeders' Club. "But I didn't think it was this serious."
Ash frowned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Yeah… I don't think anyone did."
Korrina sighed. "I'm sorry for not getting there sooner. I was trying to catch up, but, you were too fast. And my bag was way too heavy with all the extra papers I'm working on."
That got a chuckle out of him. "Don't worry about it. I came out of it just fine." He gave her a sideways grin. "Maybe next time, don't carry your whole life in your bag?"
Korrina smirked and playfully elbowed him. "Ha-ha. Very funny."
They reached the Breeders' Club gates, the ranch now quiet under the evening sky. Ash pushed open the main door, the wooden frame creaking slightly, and stepped inside toward the lockers. His bag was exactly where he had left it, resting against the side of his assigned space. He slung it over his shoulders and turned back toward Korrina, only to find her scanning the room, making sure no one was around.
Then, lowering her voice, she asked, "Did you use it to fight Damian and his crew?"
Ash adjusted the straps of his bag before leading her outside. He took a moment to think before answering. "Kind of," he admitted. "I wasn't really thinking straight at the time. All I meant to do was use my Aura Vision to track him down. But when I ran..." He exhaled, glancing up at the night sky. "I guess my instincts just… directed my Aura to my muscles to run faster. I didn't mean to do it on purpose. It just happened."
Korrina gave a slow nod. "And when you fought him and his friends?"
He let out a small laugh. "Yeah… I guess I used it against his friends, too."
They made their way back to the schoolyard, heading for the gates. The campus was mostly empty now, the earlier chaos left behind in the principal's office.
Then, suddenly, Korrina's expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed slightly, catching onto something. "Wait… just his friends? So when you fought Damian…?"
Ash smirked, tilting his head. "That was all me. Me and your teachings, Master."
Korrina blinked before bursting into a wide grin. "Awww! My little Lucario's making me so proud!" she teased, clasping her hands together dramatically.
Ash rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, yeah."
Korrina's laughter softened, and her expression became more subdued. "Are you sure you won't be able to visit Kalos this summer?"
Ash sighed, looking ahead as they neared the gates. "Yeah. But who knows? Maybe some other time."
Korrina exhaled but then brightened up. "Sure. I'll be waiting."
They reached the entrance, where their paths split. Korrina waved as she turned toward her own route home. Ash watched her go for a moment before setting off in his own direction, his thoughts drifting to Charmander.
Ash hoped the little guy would recover soon. He deserved better.
(๑• .̫ •ू๑)
The moment Ash stepped onto the doorstep, the service door swung open.
"Welcome home!" Dawn chirped, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.
Ash blinked at her, slightly surprised. He hadn't expected her to still be here this late. "Uh… hey."
Dawn squinted at him, clearly analyzing his expression before stepping aside. "You're late again. Must've been busy at the Breeders' Club, huh?"
Ash scratched the back of his neck as he walked past her toward the kitchen. "Yeah…" he muttered, forcing a small, awkward smile. He knew she wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't push.
Inside, his mom and Johanna were already seated at the kitchen table, cups of tea steaming in front of them. The warm glow of the overhead light made the room feel cozy despite the weight pressing down on Ash's shoulders. Pikachu lay curled up on the couch, his ears twitching at Ash's presence, but he didn't get up.
"Good evening, Ash," Johanna greeted warmly.
His mom turned to him with a soft smile. "Welcome home, sweetie. Dinner's in the oven if you're hungry."
Ash nodded but didn't sit down right away. Instead, he pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen before typing a message to Brock.
'Sir, can you send me the security footage? The principal said I need to tell my mom.'
The conversation at the table continued without him, Delia and Johanna chatting about their menus, Dawn occasionally chiming in. Ash listened absently, his mind elsewhere as he waited for Brock's reply.
His phone buzzed a few moments later.
Brock: Just sent it. Should be in your messages now. Let me know if you need anything else.
Ash exhaled, gripping his phone a little tighter. He wasn't exactly looking forward to this, but he knew he had to do it.
Eventually, Johanna and Dawn stood to leave. Dawn gave him a quick, questioning glance, but he just shook his head. Not now. She didn't press further and left with her mother.
The house fell quiet.
Ash sat at the kitchen table, glancing at his mom as she cleared the cups. She hummed softly, oblivious to the conversation they were about to have.
"Mom," he started, shifting in his seat. "There's something I need to tell you."
Delia paused, looking over her shoulder. "Hmm?"
Ash hesitated for a moment, then tapped the screen and pressed play.
At first, Delia watched in silence, her face neutral. Then, as the footage showed Ash facing off against the third-years, her expression tensed. Her breath hitched when Damian swung the mop.
He didn't like seeing his mom's face go pale like that.
By the time the video ended, she placed a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Ash…" Her voice wavered between shock and worry.
Ash shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Delia turned to face him fully, her brows furrowed. "You fought four older students, Ash!"
Ash rubbed the back of his neck. "Technically, they started it…"
"That's not the point!" Delia placed her hands on her hips, her voice rising slightly. "Why didn't you just walk away?"
Ash sighed. "Got caught in the moment."
Delia exhaled sharply, her expression a mix of frustration and reluctant understanding. After a beat, her voice softened. "Are you okay?"
Ash nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
She studied him for a moment, as if searching for any hidden injuries, then let out a small sigh. "I'm calling the school tomorrow to confirm you're really not in trouble."
Ash chuckled. "That's fair."
"You are never doing that again."
"…Yes, Mom."
"Pikaaa…" Pikachu drooped slightly, not used to this kind of situation.
Delia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Honestly, Ash…" Then, after a pause, she stepped forward and pulled him into a quick hug. "Just… be careful, okay?"
Ash smiled slightly, hugging her back. "I will."
As she pulled away, she let out another sigh. "I don't know if I should be proud or worried sick."
Ash grinned. "Why not both?"
She shot him a look. "Don't push it, mister."
Pikachu hopped onto Ash's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.
Getting scolded was better than getting grounded, at least.
(๑• .̫ •ू๑)
A/N: Thanks for the new subs and comments! This is actually the third time I've reposted this chapter, I wasn't satisfied with the first two uploads. Hopefully, no one saw how rough they were.
At first, I went with short, choppy sentences for the fight scenes to make them feel immediate, but I think I cut the descriptions too much, making them feel detached. Hopefully, this one is much better!
@Evil HERO Malicious Bane: Hope you like this chapter!
@Void Reader: I had to keep the punishment within a believable range, but I hope it's still satisfying enough—especially since everything was recorded and properly reported.
@BNRBC: Ash going on a vacation in different regions already sounds chaotic, lol.
@UltimateCCC: Organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless. Brock and the principal are the only ones keeping things intact.
@Ashley: I know, right? Lol. Classic Ash. Good thing he's only using Aura in an internal, instinctive way—not outright manifesting it yet. But yeah, still pretty reckless. Hope this chapter clarified that. Our boy is still under the radar… for now.
@Everyone: Someone, please send me an AO3 invite for crossposting. TIA!