My first story in a long time! Man does it feel great to be back. Obviously, I haven't written in a very long time so the grammar might be a little sloppy, but I will improve it as we go on! I plan on making this story unique and finishing it so stay tuned if it interests you!

The air in Pallet Town was thick with sorrow, the usual warmth of home replaced by the cold embrace of grief. Rain drizzled lightly over the gathered crowd, as if the heavens themselves mourned alongside them. Rows of black-clad figures stood in solemn silence, their eyes fixed on the closed casket resting before them. The name Delia Ketchum was engraved into the polished wood, a cruel reminder that Ash's mother—his foundation, his heart—was gone.

Ash stood at the front, his fists clenched at his sides. He was no longer the wide-eyed boy chasing dreams across regions. Now, at 21, he was a man, and yet, he had never felt more lost. The weight of expectation, grief, and anger pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him.

Professor Oak placed a firm hand on Ash's shoulder, a silent anchor in the storm. With a slow breath, Ash stepped forward, facing not just his closest friends, but the entire town—the people who had watched him grow, who had loved his mother just as he had.

He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse but steady.

"My mother… was the kindest person I've ever known." His words wavered, but he forced himself to continue. "She gave everything she had to make sure I could live my dream. And now, she's gone. Just like that."

The silence in the crowd was deafening. He could see Misty wiping at her eyes, May holding Max close, Dawn looking down, unable to meet his gaze. Gary, his childhood rival turned closest friend, stood stiffly beside Paul and Trip, all of them wearing expressions that were unreadable yet deeply respectful.

Ash exhaled shakily. "I wasn't there when it happened. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell her one last time how much I loved her." His voice cracked, but he pressed on. "Whoever did this… they took more than just a mother from me. They took away the person who believed in me before anyone else did.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some exchanged wary glances; others nodded in silent agreement.

He stepped back, lowering his head. Professor Oak squeezed his shoulder again, murmuring, "She would be proud of you, Ash."

Ash didn't respond. Because deep down, he wasn't sure if that was true.

The rain fell heavier now, tapping against the casket like a solemn drumbeat. As Ash stepped back from the podium, he clenched his fists, willing himself to stay composed. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, his mother's name echoing in his mind like a ghost that would never leave him.

Professor Oak took a slow step forward, his old eyes heavy with grief. He removed his glasses, wiping away the raindrops before glancing at the crowd. His voice, though aged and weary, carried the weight of a man who had seen far too much loss.

"Delia Ketchum was more than just a mother. She was the heart of Pallet Town." His voice did not waver, but the pain in it was unmistakable. "She had a way of making everyone feel welcome. Whether you were a neighbor, a traveling trainer, or just a child who had lost their way, Delia would greet you with a warm meal and a kind word."

A few nods and quiet murmurs of agreement passed through the crowd.

"She raised two boys—Red and Ash. And she raised them well." He turned to Ash, offering the faintest of smiles. "She was proud of you, Ash. No matter how far you traveled, no matter how long you were away—she never stopped believing in you."

Ash felt his throat tighten. He swallowed hard, looking away.

Oak sighed, placing a hand on the casket. The rain dripped from his fingers as he spoke one last time. "Delia… you were a wonderful woman. And an even greater mother. Rest easy now."

The crowd lowered their heads in silence.

And just like that, Delia Ketchum was gone.

After the service, the attendees slowly began to disperse, the rain never letting up. Ash stood near the casket, staring at it as if he could somehow will it to open, to see his mother's face one last time. He barely noticed the footsteps behind him.

"Five years, Ash."

The voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. Ash turned, meeting the piercing gaze of his older brother. Red stood with his arms crossed, his iconic cap shielding his face from the rain. His expression was unreadable, but his clenched jaw told Ash everything.

"Red, I—"

"You weren't here." Red's voice was sharper now, laced with something between frustration and sorrow. "You were off in Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos—who knows where else? But you weren't here."

Ash felt his body tense. "I didn't know this would happen."

"No? Neither did I." Red stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But I was here, Ash. I was here every single day, watching over Mom, making sure she was okay. You? You weren't even in Kanto. You left and never looked back."

Ash's nails dug into his palms. "That's not fair. You know I love Mom. You know I would've been here if I—"

"But you weren't." Red's voice cracked just slightly, but his glare remained cold. "Maybe if you had been, things would be different."

That was the moment the guilt hit Ash like a punch to the stomach.

He opened his mouth, ready to snap back, to defend himself. But no words came.

The tension between them was suffocating. Then—

"Alright, both of you, that's enough."

Gary stepped between them, arms outstretched. His spiky brown hair was soaked, but his eyes still held the same sharpness Ash had always known. "This isn't the time, and you both know it. Delia wouldn't want you two fighting over this."

Red scoffed but said nothing, looking away. Ash exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

Gary glanced between them before turning to Red. "Go cool off. Trip, Paul, help me out here."

Paul crossed his arms, nodding toward Red. "Come on. Let's take a walk."

Trip simply sighed. "Just listen to them, Red."

Red shot one last look at Ash before turning on his heel, walking away into the rain with Paul and Trip at his side.

Ash didn't move for a long moment. His hands trembled slightly, though whether from anger, guilt, or grief, he didn't know.

"Come on," Brock said suddenly, stepping up beside him.

Ash looked over, surprised. Brock had been silent throughout the entire funeral, standing apart from the others, watching with an unreadable expression. Now, he gave Ash a small nod. "Let's get you home."

Ash hesitated, glancing toward Red one last time before nodding. "Yeah. Okay."

The walk was short—Delia's house was only a few minutes away. But with every step, the weight on Ash's chest grew heavier. The home he had left behind for years was now a house of ghosts, filled with memories of a mother who would never again greet him at the door.

The rain followed them, relentless and unforgiving.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Ash sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the wooden floor. The soft hum of the rain against the windows filled the silence between him and Brock, who stood nearby with his arms crossed. The house still smelled like her—like home. That was the worst part.

Brock finally broke the silence. "You okay?"

Ash exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. His voice was quiet, almost detached. "No. It's my mom, Brock."

The weight in the air was suffocating. Then, after a moment, Brock spoke again, his voice firmer. "Hey, I don't know why this had to happen, but I promise you—I'm going to find out who did this."

Ash blinked, finally looking up at Brock. The words didn't hit him quite as strongly as they should have—maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the grief—but he offered a small, tired smile. "Thanks, Brock."

Brock returned the smile.

A sudden noise from outside shattered the fragile peace.

Yelling. Screams. Then—a loud crash.

Both men shot to their feet.

"What the hell—?" Ash was already moving, throwing open the door, and running into the downpour.

The rain pounded against the ground as Ash's feet splashed through the mud. And there they were—Team Rocket.

Not Jesse and James. Not the bumbling fools he had grown up dealing with. No—the real Team Rocket. The ones who didn't play games. The ones who took everything and left nothing behind.

A group of grunts stood in the middle of the street, Pokémon at the ready—Mightyena, Golbat, Muk—all of them baring their fangs, their eyes reflecting the streetlights like something out of a nightmare.

They weren't here to pay respects.

They were here to mock them.

Ash's blood boiled. Not today.

Red was already there, stepping forward without hesitation. His voice was ice-cold. "Charizard, burn them."

With a deafening roar, Charizard erupted from his Poké Ball, fire seething from his nostrils as he took to the sky, his wings slicing through the rain.

Ash gritted his teeth. "Pikachu—Thunderbolt!"

The air crackled as Pikachu unleashed a golden blast of lightning, striking the ground near the grunts, sending electricity rippling through the puddles. The Mightyena howled in pain, retreating as their trainers stumbled backward.

Paul, Trip, and Gary sprinted toward the crowd, making sure no civilians were caught in the chaos.

Team Rocket faltered. They weren't expecting this much resistance. They weren't expecting him.

They made the smart choice. They ran.

As the last of them disappeared into the stormy night, Red exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Cowards."

Ash stood still, heart pounding, fists clenched. His mother had only been gone for hours, and already, already, these people were stomping on her memory.

It made him sick.

The four of them—Red, Ash, Brock, and Gary—stood in front of Delia's house, the rain continuing to fall. None of them spoke at first. The only sound was Charizard's heavy breathing and the distant thunder rumbling in the sky.

Finally, Red broke the silence. His voice was calmer this time, less harsh than before. "When do you plan on leaving?"

Ash hesitated. He hadn't even thought about that.

"I don't know," he admitted, running a hand through his soaked hair. "I might stay for a while. Things are… messed up right now."

Red nodded, seeming to accept that answer. "That's fine. Right now, Team Rocket's taking over Kanto."

There was no emotion in his words. Just a statement of fact.

Brock exhaled, placing a hand on Ash's shoulder. "You should get some rest. You look like hell."

Ash sighed. He wasn't going to argue. His body ached, his mind was spinning, and he didn't have the energy to keep standing in the rain. "Yeah… alright."

Gary, Paul, and Trip started walking back toward Professor Oak's lab, their figures disappearing into the night.

Ash lingered for just a second longer, looking out at the rain, before stepping inside.

For the first time in five years…

He was home.