Professor Oak's Lab — The Next Morning

Sunlight poured gently through the lab windows, casting golden streaks across stacks of research papers and Poké Balls. Professor Oak adjusted his glasses, looking over at Ash as he leaned casually against one of the lab tables, arms crossed and eyes steady.

"So… Viridian City," Oak said, voice touched with that signature warmth. "I read the reports. You boys did it. You actually pushed them out."

Ash gave a nod, humble but proud. "They didn't even see it coming. We hit 'em fast, didn't give 'em a chance to settle."

Oak smiled, leaning forward on the table with folded hands. "You've done something remarkable, Ash. I want you to know that." He paused a moment, tone softening. "And if she were here… your mother would be proud beyond words."

The words hit Ash like a stone to the chest—but not in a painful way. He looked down, jaw clenched just enough to keep it together.

"I hope so," Ash murmured. "She always told me not to bite off more than I could chew. Guess I never listened."

Oak chuckled gently. "No… you listened. You just did what every Ketchum does when pushed into a corner. You fought back."

He turned and gestured to a monitor nearby. "Clemont's in Saffron City right now. Keeping tabs on Rocket activity over there. Just in case they try to regroup. Seems like they're flailing."

Ash nodded slowly. "They're not gonna get far. Not anymore."

Oak's expression turned thoughtful. "You've changed since coming home. This version of you… it's not just stronger. It's sharper. More aware. It's like you finally see things for what they are."

"I do," Ash replied, voice lower. "And I'm not stopping until I figure it all out."

Oak gave a proud nod, then clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Whatever it is you're chasing… just don't let it take more from you than it already has."

Ash managed a small smile, then turned toward the lab's back door.

"I won't."

Ash stood alone by the wooden fence, eyes fixed on the rolling fields where his Pokémon enjoyed the calm. His Charizard lay quietly beneath a tree, wings folded, nostrils puffing soft clouds of steam. Sceptile sat nearby with arms crossed, ever watchful. Pikachu was perched on the fence post next to him, silent for once.

Ash barely noticed the wind brushing against him. His thoughts were elsewhere—still tangled in last night's victory, everything that came before it… and what might come next.

The lab door opened behind him with a soft creak.

Dawn stepped out into the light, her gaze immediately locking onto him. He hadn't seen her in days, but that wasn't new. He'd been like that lately—quiet, withdrawn. Like the more ground they took back from Team Rocket, the more he slipped away from his friends.

She hesitated, then walked toward him, her steps quiet on the dirt path.

"Hey," she said gently.

Ash turned, startled for just a second, before offering a faint smile. "Hey Dawn."

"Professor Oak said you'd be out here."

"Yeah. I'm just… thinking."

Dawn stopped beside him, folding her arms. She looked out at the Pokémon too, but her focus wasn't on them.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," she said. "Thinking."

Ash smirked a little. "That obvious, huh?"

"Only to someone who's known you as long as I have."

There was a pause.

Dawn finally turned to face him, her voice soft but firm. "You scared me, you know."

Ash blinked. "What?"

"Back in Viridian. I heard what you guys did, Ash. You, Brock, Gary, and Red. You've always been brave, Ash. But this? This felt like something else."

Ash looked down, jaw tightening.

"I just wanted to finish it," he said quietly. "Team Rocket's taken so much from me. I guess sometimes… I dive in because I want it to stop. I want them to stop."

Dawn didn't say anything right away. She just watched him, her expression softening.

"I get it," she said. "I really do. But every time you throw yourself into danger, you're not just hurting them—you're hurting the people who care about you. Me. The Professor. Your Pokémon. Red. Everyone."

Ash looked at her now, and for the first time in days, really saw her.

"I never meant to scare you," he said, almost a whisper.

"I know," she said. "And I'm not asking you to stop fighting. I'm just asking you to be careful. Promise me that much."

Ash didn't answer right away. His eyes dropped to the ground again, like he was sorting through everything inside him.

Then he looked back at her.

"I promise," he said softly. His tone sounded genuine, and for Dawn, that was more than enough to assure her.

The wind shifted.

And then, just like that, Dawn stepped in closer, heart racing in her chest. For a moment, neither of them moved. The space between them felt electric.

And then she leaned in.

Her lips met his in a slow, delicate kiss. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It was warm and reassuring.

Like saying you're not alone without needing to speak.

Ash responded, instinctively. His hand found her cheek, and for that small moment in time, the world slowed down.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads stayed touching.

Dawn opened her eyes, voice trembling but sure. "Just… come back to me, okay?"

Ash nodded, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "I will."

Ash knew what she meant.

And by the way he kissed her back…

…she knew he felt the same.

Red's House — Afternoon

The living room was alive with energy.

Dozens of trainers filled the space—standing shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning against walls, perched on couches, each one carrying the same fire behind their eyes. Trainers with bonds forged on dirt roads and under open skies.

They believed in taking Kanto back.

Red stood at the front of the room, arms crossed over his chest, gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"This is it," he said, voice steady but loud. "This is where we show Team Rocket what battling is all about!"

Voices rose in response. Cheers and determined trainers. A pounding of feet against the floor.

Red raised his hand to quiet them. Then, eyes blazing, he shouted: "Are you guys with me?! Say it! Are you with me?!"

"Yeah!!" The answer came back like thunder, shaking the walls.

Paul and Trip exchanged a firm nod, their expressions unreadable but resolute. Gary, leaning casually against the kitchen doorway, smirked with arms folded—quietly proud.

And then the front door creaked open.

Ash stepped in, hair wind-tossed, jacket still clinging to the morning chill. He blinked as every pair of eyes turned his way.

Red looked over, grinning.

"There he is! Ash, where've you been?"

Ash gave a sheepish shrug. "Sorry bro. I got caught up with… someone."

Red raised a brow for a second, then waved it off. "Don't stress it."

Ash walked forward, taking his place beside his brother.

Red stepped up beside him, looking back at the crowd. "Listen up! You guys trust Ash, right?"

The response came swift and sure. "Yeah!!"

Red nodded. "He's been through a lot. We all have. But Ash has been taking the fight to the enemy. Showing us how we used to handle business around here. Reminding us what Pallet Town used to mean to Kanto."

More cheers. More energy. Gary smiled, clapping once with a nod of respect.

Red turned back toward Ash, his voice lowering slightly—but every word carried.

"Ash… you're my brother. My little warrior. I should've never doubted you."

Ash looked at him, eyes soft. "It's nothing."

Because it wasn't about grudges anymore. It wasn't about the five years Ash had vanished. It was about now. About what they were building, side by side.

Red slung an arm around his shoulder, pressing a firm hand to his back.

"But you're home now, brother. Home."

Ash gave a single, quiet nod.

And the room responded with agreement. Not one voice louder than the other—just a shared, quiet understanding.

They weren't just following Red anymore.

They were following both brothers.

Red took a step forward, rallying the room again. "Alright, listen up! I want you all geared up and ready. Meet me downtown in Saffron City—under the bridge at the main intersection. We're gonna finish these Team Rocket clowns!"

Everyone scattered into motion, voices buzzing, Poké Balls in hand, jackets pulled on, battle gear strapped tight. Paul, Trip, and Gary moved out with the rest, each one heading for the streets with fire in their steps.

Only Ash and Red remained behind for a moment longer.

Red turned, eyes locking with Ash's.

"You in?"

Ash didn't hesitate. "Of course I am, Red. You know me."

Red smirked. "Good. Go get ready, and I'll see you at the crossroads."

Ash gave one last look around the now-empty house.

It felt different than before.

It felt like something was about to end.

And something else was about to begin.

Ash stepped out into the open air, the front door clicking softly behind him. The sun had started its slow descent across the sky, casting long shadows across Pallet Town's quiet streets.

Viridian had been reclaimed. Team Rocket was scattered. The old crew was back together. And tonight, they were marching straight into Saffron City to finish the job.

Ash exhaled and adjusted the strap of his backpack. He reached into his belt to check his Pokè balls—only for his Pokégear to buzz in his other hand.

Incoming Call: Clemont

Ash blinked. "Huh?"

He accepted the call, holding the device up to his ear. "Hey. What's up?"

Clemont's voice came through, immediate and tight. "Ash, it's Clemont."

Ash stopped walking. Something in Clemont's tone made his fingers stiffen.

"…You sound kinda off," Ash said, trying to brush it off. "What's going on?"

"I need to see you," Clemont said. "This is important."

Ash furrowed his brow. "Clemont, I'm kinda busy right now. Something big is going down. Red's planning an offensive in Saffron City."

"I know," Clemont said quickly. "But this can't wait, Ash. I'd tell you over the phone, but you won't believe me. You need to see it for yourself."

Ash hesitated. There was something in Clemont's voice—something coiled tight, like he was holding something in, trying not to explode.

He rubbed his forehead. "Clemont… I've got like, ten minutes before I need to meet the others. This better be worth it."

"It will be," Clemont promised. "I'll be just south of Saffron City. There's a side street by Route 6 that leads to an alley. I'll be waiting in my car. Please, Ash."

Ash paused.

Then nodded slowly. "Alright. I'm on my way."

He ended the call, slipping the Pokégear back into his jacket pocket.

But something about that conversation stuck with him.

Clemont wasn't the kind of guy to sound shaken. Focused, sure. Excitable, even. But not shaken.

Ash swung a leg over his bike, gave one final look down the road that led into Pallet, then kicked off the ground with one foot.

Ash narrowed his eyes, the wind whipping past him as he peddled hard down the path, tires crunching against gravel and dirt.

Ten minutes. That's all I've got.

Ash rolled into Saffron City as the sky began its slow fade into orange. The towering skyline of the metropolis stood proud around him, casting long, concrete shadows down cracked sidewalks and narrow backstreets.

This city had once been familiar—once a playground of childhood dreams, filled with gym battles and friendly rivalries. But there was no time to reminisce now.

Ash focused on the directions Clemont had given him. South side. Side street. Alley.

He spotted it just past a row of rusted fences and shuttered storefronts. The path was quiet, tucked away between two old apartment blocks. Faint graffiti lined the brick walls, and overhead cables sagged low like vines in a jungle.

He gripped his handlebars tighter as he rolled forward into the alleyway, each rotation of his tires feeling heavier than the last.

And then—there he was.

Clemont.

Sitting in his car at the end of the alley, parked crooked under a burnt-out streetlight. The windows were fogged slightly, but Ash could see the outline of his old friend, fidgeting in the driver's seat.

Clemont looked up, spotted Ash, and immediately leaned over to push the passenger door open. He gave a short wave, motioning for him to come over.

Ash stepped off his bike, carefully setting it down by the alley wall. He walked over to the car, eyeing Clemont with a growing sense of unease.

Ash climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the car door behind him. The air inside was heavy, like the cabin itself knew what was about to unfold. He shot Clemont a skeptical glance.

"So you pulled me all the way across the region," Ash said, brushing some dirt from his gloves, "just to show me something? What is it?"

Clemont didn't answer right away.

Instead, he turned to Ash slowly—nervous, pale, almost… guilty.

"I didn't want to be the one to show you this," he said quietly. "But you needed to see it for yourself."

He tilted his head toward the windshield, nodding toward the street just across from them.

Ash followed his gaze. "Over there?" His eyes landed on an old, run-down garage. Rusted, tagged with graffiti, practically sinking into the cracked concrete around it. At first glance, it was nothing. Just another forgotten building on a forgotten street.

Ash squinted. "Okay… it's a shady-looking garage. So what?"

Clemont didn't even blink. "Just wait."

And then the side door creaked open.

Two men stepped out—Team Rocket grunts, in full uniform, laughing quietly like they didn't have a care in the world. They leaned against the wall, lighting cigarettes, chatting like they owned the block.

Ash raised a brow. "Two Rocket goons. Alright. What about it?"

Clemont's voice was tight. "Just… keep watching."

Ash sighed and leaned in a little, growing impatient.

Then the door opened again.

Brock emerged from the same door as the Rocket grunts. Calm. Composed. Like he belonged there.

Ash's heart didn't sink.

It dropped straight into hell.

"What the fuck?" Ash whispered, staring in disbelief. "No… no way…"

He leaned forward, pressing his hand against the dashboard as Brock and the grunts began unlocking the main garage door. It rumbled open—and there it was.

A black Team Rocket van.

Not just any van. That van.

The same model Brock had once described to him in perfect detail. The same one used the night Delia Ketchum died.

Ash's blood ran cold.

"No. No no no," Ash murmured. "Brock, what are you doing…?"

"Shh," Clemont said, placing a hand on Ash's arm. "Just keep watching. Look inside the van."

The driver's door opened.

Detective Tedesco stepped out.

And from the shadows behind the small side door came Looker—calm as ever, in his tan trench coat, speaking low to Brock like they were old friends.

Ash sat back in his seat, eyes wide, stomach churning.

He quickly connected the dots on what was happening.

The distance. The excuses. The way Brock always steered conversations away from Rocket leads. That look in his eyes at the funeral—the guilt, not grief.

He knew. All along, he knew.

And now here he was, shoulder-to-shoulder with the very monsters responsible for Ash's greatest pain.

Clemont finally broke the silence. "Ash… I'm sorry. I didn't want to believe it either. I was just scouting for intel for Professor Oak. When I saw Brock walk out of there…

Ash didn't answer right away. His hand was trembling slightly.

Then, slowly, he shook his head. "No. No, you did the right thing, Clemont. You… you saved me from walking blind."

His breathing was heavier now. Furious.

"I have to tell Red," he said, starting to open the door.

Ash froze halfway out the door. His eyes widened as one last puzzle piece dropped into place. The fight. The intersection.

His breath caught in his throat.

"It's a trap," he whispered.

Clemont straightened in his seat. "What?"

"They knew Red would come. Looker. Tedesco. Brock. They knew," Ash said quickly, eyes burning. "They set this up. That intersection downtown… it's a setup. They're gonna wipe out Red and everyone with him."

He slammed the door shut again and turned to Clemont with fire in his voice.

"Get to Professor Oak. Now. Tell him what we saw. Warn anyone you can. I'm going after them."

Clemont reached out, gripping his shoulder. "Ash—what are you thinking?"

Ash opened the door again, this time without hesitation. "I'm thinking I've already lost too much. I'm not losing Red too."

He leapt out, ran over to his bike, and jumped on.

Clemont called after him, "Be careful! Ash!"

But Ash didn't hear him.

He was already gone—peddling fast, tires screeching as he tore out of the alleyway like the wind itself was trying to catch him.

Ash flew through the heart of Saffron like a wildfire in the wind.

His legs burned. His lungs ached. But nothing slowed him. Not the people yelling at him to slow down. Not the cars swerving past him. Not even the heavy Pokégear in his right hand, which he kept raising to his ear with desperate hope.

"Come on, come on…" he muttered, dialing Red's number again. And again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

"Dammit!" he shouted, tossing the device back into his hoodie pocket as he gritted his teeth and pushed harder on the pedals. He swerved past a crowded marketplace, darted through a red light, barely missing a truck as he barreled toward that intersection—the one Red had gone to fight at. The one that was now, Ash was certain, a kill zone.

His mind spiraled.

Brock. He knew. This whole time—he knew. He played me like a fool. Ever since I came back. Since the funeral. Since the promise. All of it.

And now Red—his brother, the one he hadn't seen in five years, the one he was just starting to rebuild trust with—was walking straight into a trap.

Ash turned a corner and—

Boom.

He skidded his bike to a stop, nearly slamming into a car. The tires screeched and the metal frame flipped as he leapt off, letting the bike crash into the pavement behind him.

The intersection was chaos.

Explosions of fire and ice lit the street. Smoke poured from shattered windows. Trainers screamed commands over the noise, their Pokémon locked in full-scale war with Rocket grunts.

Gary was in the thick of it, his Blastoise blasting Hydro Pumps at a swarm of Rocket Pokémon. Paul was further down the block with Electivire, laying waste to a horde of grunts without even breaking a sweat. There were bodies—injured, exhausted, yelling for help. Pokémon shielding their trainers. Rockets charging in like hounds.

It was a battlefield.

Ash sprinted into the fire of it all, ducking under a rogue Thunderbolt as he made a beeline for Gary.

"Gary!" he shouted, grabbing his friend by the arm mid-fight. "Where the hell is Red?!"

Gary turned, startled. "Ash?! What the hell—where'd you go?! We needed you out here!"

"There's no time to explain!" Ash yelled over the chaos. "Where's Red?!"

Gary pointed across the street, just past a toppled trash bin and a broken barricade.

Ash's heart dropped.

Red was down.

He was still alive, barely conscious—but bleeding, his body crumpled behind a stack of crates, clutching his leg and shoulder like he was barely holding himself together. His Charizard stood guard over him, eyes blazing.

Ash immediately sprinted toward his brother across the street. He wasn't about to lose his brother. Not after all of this.

He dropped to his knees beside his brother, heart pounding in his ears.

"Red!" he shouted. "Hey—hey, I've got you, okay?! I've got you!"

Red stirred, his eyes cracking open. Blood had soaked through the side of his jacket and down his thigh. Still, his voice was calm.

"Ash," he said, wincing, "Where've you been…?"

Ash gritted his teeth, supporting Red against his side as he tried to stop the bleeding with his hoodie sleeve.

"I got a call—from Clemont. He showed me something… Brock's in deep with Team Rocket and Looker. They set us up, Red. This whole fight—it's a trap."

Red's jaw clenched. His face twisted—not just from pain, but rage, and disbelief, and heartbreak.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter now, Ash. You've got to go. Cops are on the way. They're not gonna ask questions."

Ash shook his head violently. "No. No way I'm leaving you here. Not again. You hear me? I'm not running out on you this time."

Red opened his mouth to protest, but Ash cut him off.

"You rest. I've got this."

Ash stood tall, eyes burning, voice steel.

"Charizard!" he yelled, tossing out a Pokéball.

The flame-winged beast erupted into the sky with a furious roar, eyes flashing as it soared into the chaos.

Ash turned back to Red briefly, his voice low, deadly serious.

"I'm ending this."

Then he ran—straight back into the storm, with Charizard by his side and fire in his veins.

Ash stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Gary, eyes locked on the endless tide of chaos around them. Paul and Trip were still holding ground just ahead, their Pokémon unleashing hell.

"Pikachu—Thunderbolt! Charizard—Flamethrower, now!!" Ash yelled, his voice cracking through the smoky air.

Pikachu leapt forward with a fierce cry, unleashing a surge of lightning that lit up half the street. Charizard roared overhead, raining fire from above, scorching through wave after wave of Rocket grunts and their snarling Pokémon.

But they kept coming.

These weren't the usual clumsy grunts Ash used to take down back in the day. These were trained. These grunts knew what they were supposed to be doing when doing it. Reinforcements poured in through alleyways, vans screeched into position, Rocket flags plastered on their sides. Houndooms, Toxicroaks, Scizors—each one more brutal than the last. They weren't playing around. They were here to kill.

Trip's Serperior snapped through a battalion of Rocket Pokémon with Leaf Storm, only for another pack to come charging in behind them.

"They just keep coming!" Gary shouted, sweat dripping from his brow as Blastoise rammed into a wave of enemies.

"They're trying to bury us!" Trip snarled, eyes wide. "We're not winning this—!"

But then—

Sirens. Loud and blaring. The sharp, unmistakable sound of reality crashing down.

Ash turned his head. Red and blue lights flickered at the end of the block. The shadows of police cars stretched across the street like creeping judgment.

"No…" Gary breathed out. "The cops…"

Paul turned to Ash, eyes hard. "We've got to run. Now."

"Come on!" Trip yelled, already bolting into a side street, Serperior right behind him.

Paul hesitated only a second before dashing after him. Gary paused just long enough to lock eyes with Ash.

"Ash—come on! Move!!"

But Ash didn't move.

He looked past the battle. Past the smoke and the fire and the blood.

Red was still behind those crates.

Still on his knees.

Still gripping his bleeding shoulder, slouched forward, barely conscious.

Ash stood in place like his legs had turned to stone.

Gary swore under his breath before turning and sprinting off into the alley, disappearing into the shadows.

Ash slowly walked back toward his brother, stumbling a bit as he reached him. Red looked up with a faint smirk of recognition, even through the blood and pain.

"You stayed…" Red said weakly.

Ash knelt beside him, jaw clenched, trembling.

"I wasn't leaving you behind. Not again."

More sirens. More lights. The shadows of the law closing in around them. Officers shouted from a distance—commands he couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears.

Ash slowly rose to his feet, lifted both arms above his head.

Charizard stood behind him, wings flared, growling low. Pikachu stood at his side, fur bristling, eyes still full of electricity. But Ash gave them a quiet look—and they understood.

It was over.

He glanced down one last time at his brother, still on his knees, lifting his arms weakly in surrender. Blood trailed from his fingers, pooling at his side.

Ash's vision blurred. His chest rose and fell too fast. Everything that had happened tonight looped in his mind on repeat.

Brock.

The garage.

The van.

Red bleeding out.

Looker.

The betrayal.

It all swirled together like a storm he couldn't crawl out of.

And then—

Darkness.

Ash's eyes rolled back. His body collapsed to the pavement beside his brother, the cold concrete rushing up to meet him. The last thing he saw as the world faded to black…

…was the blood on Red's hands.

And the blue lights flashing behind his closed eyes.

Ash stirred.

His head throbbed like someone had taken a jackhammer to the inside of his skull. His vision came in fragments—flashes of light, the echo of sirens, the memory of Red slumped over in blood, and that moment his knees gave out beneath him.

The world around him was still.

He blinked hard, lifting his head just enough to realize he was seated upright, hands cuffed in front of him. The sharp scent of leather and cheap cologne filled the air. His eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the vehicle… a police car.

The windows were fogged slightly, the night outside almost pitch-black. Some dirt road in the middle of nowhere, no signs, no lights. Only the sound of chirping insects and the low hum of the car engine idling.

Then he saw them.

The two silhouettes in the front seat.

The driver didn't turn around, but the one in the passenger seat slowly did. That angular jaw. That smug grin. That slicked-back hair and unblinking stare.

Detective Looker.

"Well, well," Looker said, voice smooth like venom. "You're in a police car, boy. How do you feel about that?"

Ash's lips curled with fury. His throat was dry, but his voice came out ragged and sharp.

"You two sick, twisted fucks."

Tedesco, seated in the driver's seat, chuckled quietly. "He's got spirit, I'll give him that."

"Arrest those who cause a ruckus. It's my job, Ash," Looker said, casually adjusting his tie. "Besides, you should be grateful. You're not in a cell, are you?"

Ash looked out the window again. Trees. Dirt. No towns. No cities.

"Where the hell are we?" he muttered.

Looker smiled like he'd been waiting for the question. "The middle of fucking nowhere. Nice, clean air. No heroes."

Ash closed his eyes for a moment. The memories came rushing back in full force—Brock's betrayal. The battle. Red.

"Fucking Brock…" he muttered bitterly.

Then it hit him again, harder this time. "Red. Where's Red?!"

Looker gave a low sigh, as if annoyed by the concern. "Red's alive… for now. He's in a Prison hospital, having his wounds stitched up real nice. But once he's conscious enough, they're putting him in court. He's got a trial coming."

Tedesco grunted. "You should be counting your blessings, kid. You're walking free. Red's not. But he's breathing. That should be good enough for you."

Ash's jaw tightened.

The two detectives opened their doors in sync and stepped out. The air outside was freezing cold, like nature itself wanted no part of this conversation. A second later, Tedesco opened Ash's door and yanked him out of the backseat. He unlocked his cuffs with a loud click.

Ash rubbed his wrists, muttering under his breath, "I still can't believe that prick Brock turned on me…"

Tedesco laughed sharply. "Brock? Brock does exactly what he's told. He learned that lesson a long time ago."

Looker nodded, voice now like poisoned silk. "Come on, Ash. 'Friends for life?' 'Loyalty?' You think any of that crap matters? That's fairytale talk. You stay the fuck away from Brock… and you stay the fuck away from Kanto. Otherwise?"

He leaned in close, whispering low.

"Red's gonna find himself getting in touch with his feminine side."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Ash's fists clenched, but he said nothing. He didn't need to. The rage was visible in his eyes.

Tedesco stepped up beside him and gave a cruel smirk.

"We've got a little problem," he said. "A former friend of ours. Used to be one of us. Now he wants to talk. Says he disagrees with some of our 'methods.'"

Ash raised an eyebrow, sarcasm pouring out of his tone. "Now who could possibly disagree with two outstanding cops like you?"

Looker gave him a mock smile.

"We've got him holed up at a ranch just outside of town," Tedesco continued. "Nice place. Quiet, Off-grid. We've been feeding him just enough to keep him breathing while we, uh, adjust his testimony."

"We want you to pay him a visit," Looker added, finally dropping all pretense of charm. "Destroy the evidence. Every file, every disk, every backup. Burn the place down if you have to.

Ash didn't respond. He couldn't. His heart was in his throat, the weight of the night pressing down on him like a boulder.

And then, just like that, they were gone.

The doors slammed, the car revved, and the two detectives disappeared into the darkness, taillights vanishing like dying embers.

Ash stood alone. Cold, Exhausted, and surrounded by woods and silence.

He checked his belt—his Pokéballs were still there. Pikachu was inside one, which felt off, wrong even. Pikachu never stayed inside. But here it was, tucked in like the world had turned upside down.

He sat down on a rock, hands buried in his hair, eyes staring blankly ahead.

Red was in custody. Brock was a traitor. Looker and Tedesco had him on a leash. And all his other friends? Gone and scattered. Who knew where they were now.

This was the moment his life took a turn—the turn.

Ash's boots crunched against the gravel path as he wandered along the weathered dirt road, surrounded by wide open pastures and wooden fences that seemed to stretch into the horizon. The air smelled like hay, mud, and a hint of burnt wood.

Ash didn't know how long he'd been walking, but the dizziness hadn't left him since waking up in that cursed car. His thoughts were spiraling, but his legs kept moving. Eventually, he spotted it: a Pokémon Center tucked beside a small barn, its red rooftop faded from years of sun exposure. A sleepy wind chime swung lazily from the porch post as he approached.

The automatic doors hissed open.

Nurse Joy looked up from the front desk, blinking curiously at the ragged trainer in front of her. Ash was covered in dirt and dried blood, his hair a mess, and his eyes hollow with exhaustion.

"Welcome," she said gently, "You look like you've been through quite a bit."

"Yeah…" Ash muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry. I, uh… Where exactly am I?"

Joy tilted her head, sensing the genuine confusion in his voice.

"You're at Floccesy Ranch," she answered with a kind smile. "Just west of Floccesy Town, Unova."

Ash froze.

"…What?"

He blinked hard. Maybe he misheard her.

But she just nodded.

"Unova?" he said again, this time louder. "Unova?! You've gotta be kidding me. They actually—those freaks actually dragged me across regions?!"

Joy raised an eyebrow, clearly concerned now. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a weak smile. "Yeah, just… had a weird dream, I guess. Thanks."

The moment she handed him a room key, Ash climbed the stairs like a man walking underwater. His legs felt heavy, his thoughts heavier. When he reached the small room at the end of the hall, he closed the door softly behind him, tossed his bag onto the floor, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

His fists clenched.

This was beyond anything he could've imagined.

Brock. His friend. His brother.

Gone.

A traitor.

Looker and Tedesco had pulled every string in the book. He didn't even remember being transported this far—but that was their play, wasn't it? Strip him of control. Strip him of power. Strip him of choice. And just like that, he was alone. Not just in the world… but in a whole different region.

Ash leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.

Red's in prison.

Brock's with them.

The detectives are calling the shots.

And Team Rocket?

They're winning.

Everything he'd tried to build since coming home was falling apart, one crack at a time. Maybe this was karma for running from Kanto all those years ago. Maybe this was what he deserved.

He glanced down at his belt. His Pokéballs were still there. Even Pikachu—who rarely entered its ball—had been tucked away. That wasn't right. None of this was right.

His eyes flicked to the window. The sky outside had darkened into a cold, starless void.

His reflection stared back at him, barely recognizable. The confident trainer, the boy with dreams of being a master, was buried beneath layers of grief, betrayal, and pain.

He whispered it aloud, more to himself than anyone else.

"Ashes of Ketchum…"

It wasn't just a metaphor anymore.

It was what was left of him.

What remained after the flames of trust, hope, and home had burned to cinders.

With nothing else to hold onto, Ash laid back on the mattress. His eyes drifted toward the ceiling fan spinning slowly above him. He was so tired. Not just in his body, but deep in his soul. This was the worst day of his life—and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something darker.