The morning light crept in through the half-closed curtains, casting long rays across the wooden floor of Ash's room. The countryside was quiet. Peaceful, even. But peace didn't reach the young man lying awake in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he hadn't found yet.
Eventually, he sat up. His body felt rested, but his heart weighed the same.
He looked at the belt resting on the chair beside the bed. His hand reached out slowly—gripping the familiar red-and-white sphere that held the Pokémon who had been with him through everything.
He stared at it a moment longer before whispering, "You didn't deserve this."
Ash stood up, walked to the center of the room, and pressed the button.
A flash of white.
Pikachu appeared on the floor with a soft jolt, blinking rapidly and shaking its head as if waking from a fog. It looked around, confused—then turned sharply toward Ash, ears twitching. There was something different in its eyes. Confusion. Almost like it was asking, Why did you put me in there?
Ash knelt down slowly, meeting his partner's eyes.
"No," he said gently, "I didn't. I swear, buddy… I'd never do that to you."
Pikachu tilted its head, ears drooping slightly.
Ash exhaled, voice steady but low. "They forced it. I don't know how… but Looker, and his little lapdog Tedesco—they did something. Knocked me out. Took us all the way out here. You… you were probably fighting 'til the last second, huh?"
Pikachu gave a soft, guilty chirp, like it was blaming itself for being helpless.
"No," Ash said, firm now. "None of this is your fault. I should've seen it coming."
He sat back against the wall and closed his eyes for a second. "Brock… he was like a brother. He stood by me through so much. But, he's not the same anymore buddy… He's with them now. With Team Rocket. And with Looker."
Pikachu's cheeks sparked ever so faintly, a small crackle of anger rising.
"Yeah," Ash muttered, eyes darkening. "I feel the same way."
There was a silence between them.
Ash opened his eyes. "Listen, Pikachu… We've got a job to do. A dirty one. But it's the only way to keep Red safe for now."
Pikachu stared back with a stern nod. He was always going to have his trainers back no matter what.
Ash stood and strapped his belt back on. "We're going to that ranch Tedesco told me about. Someone there has evidence—real stuff. Something that could take those bastards down if it ever reached the courts."
He walked to the door, placing his cap on his head with one sharp tug.
"But Looker wants it all gone. Every file and every truth buried under lies."
He glanced down at Pikachu.
"So we play their game for now. But only long enough to burn them from the inside out."
Pikachu clenched its fists and let out a battle-ready growl.
Ash smirked, just slightly. "That's more like it."
He opened the door. The sun was climbing now, warming the hills of Floccesy Ranch with golden light.
Ash stepped out of the Pokémon Center, the crisp morning breeze brushing through his jacket. Floccesy Ranch stretched far and wide in every direction—tall grass, rolling hills, and old wooden fences surrounding distant barns and roaming Pokémon.
He moved with purpose, clutching a folded scrap of paper in his hand—Tedesco's directions. Crude and vague, scrawled in messy handwriting:
"East of the old Tauros barn. Look for a rusted gate with a sign. Forest all around it. You'll know when you see it."
Ash followed the dirt path through the fields until it gave way to tall weeds and uneven terrain. Trees started to gather like silent watchers as he entered the edge of the woods. There, nestled behind a run-down fence overgrown with moss, was the structure—a small wooden shed, its roof sagging and panels warped with age. It looked forgotten by time.
A sign on the nearby fence read in cracked red paint:
"NO TRESPASSERS. THIS MEANS YOU."
Ash scoffed under his breath. "Too late."
He crouched low, moving like a shadow between the overgrown brush. The shed had no windows, no security lights, not even a damn mailbox.
Ash crept up to the side, tested the wood under his gloves. Rotten in places, soft in others. He found a loose panel near the back, just large enough to slip through. He took one last glance over his shoulder—then squeezed inside.
The air in the shed was stale, heavy with dust and the faint sting of tobacco smoke. Papers were scattered across a desk. File cabinets in the back, one drawer slightly ajar. A battered radio hummed static from the corner.
Suddenly—
"Hey," a gruff voice growled from behind a nearby stack of crates. "You're not supposed to be here, boy. Who the hell are you?"
Ash froze mid-step, pulse spiking.
He didn't answer.
"Pikachu," Ash muttered with steel in his voice, "Thunderbolt."
The lightning flash lit the entire shed for a second. The man—middle-aged, bearded, and armed with a half-drawn pistol—collapsed to the ground with a grunt, convulsing briefly before going limp.
Ash ran to the cabinets, tearing through folders, rifling through drawer after drawer, heart pounding. He could hear his blood in his ears. This had to be quick. The man would wake up soon, and Ash wasn't ready to answer questions with anything more than fists or lies.
Then—there it was.
A black folder labeled in faded marker: "Dishonest Work."
Ash yanked it out, flipped through the first few pages—photos of Looker shaking hands with known Rocket members, receipts, a full list of coordinated raids that were mysteriously "interrupted." This was the real deal.
Ash didn't wait a second longer.
He bolted out of the shed, kicking open the loose panel and sprinting through the forest, lungs burning as branches snapped against his arms. He ducked under low-hanging limbs, jumped over fallen logs, Pikachu darting beside him like a yellow blur.
He didn't stop running until the Pokémon Center's roof came into view just beyond the trees. And there—parked right where they left him yesterday—was the black unmarked car. Looker stood leaning against it, arms folded. Tedesco sat behind the wheel, engine rumbling like a threat.
Ash skidded to a stop just in front of them, chest heaving. He tossed the folder against Looker's chest.
"Hope it's worth the goddamn trouble," Ash said, voice rough.
Looker caught the folder without flinching. He flipped it open, brows lifting ever so slightly. "You did well, Ash."
He turned to the passenger window and knocked once. "Hey, Tedesco… didn't our boy do good?"
Tedesco smirked, leaning over the console. "Exactly what he was told."
Ash didn't reply. He just watched them like a wolf cornered by grinning hunters.
Looker gave a slow nod, tucking the folder under his arm. "Be safe out there, Ash. World's a dangerous place. Especially when people start asking too many questions."
Tedesco leaned out his window one more time. "And Ash—don't go getting righteous on us now. There's still a lot of dirty work left to do."
With that, the black car peeled out onto the dirt path, disappearing in a cloud of dust and exhaust.
Ash stood there alone.
Again.
He looked down at Pikachu, who narrowed its eyes in disgust at the retreating vehicle. Ash clenched his fists.
In that moment, he could feel it building—everything that was being taken from him. His brother, his friends, his honor. It wasn't just revenge anymore. It wasn't about pride or proving anything.
This was the price he was paying—for every lie they spun, every betrayal he endured, every quiet moment of hope turned to ash.
He stood alone at the edge of the Pokémon Center parking lot, the gentle hum of the countryside barely enough to drown out the storm in his head.
"How the hell did it come to this?"
Floccesy Ranch.
It wasn't just any place. He'd been here before—back during his Unova days, when the world felt bigger and brighter, and his greatest concern was whether he'd earn enough badges to get to the next League. Iris was always teasing him for being such a kid. Cilan rambled about flavor and elegance and all that weird stuff. But somehow, it all felt safe back then.
The barns were emptier, the Pokémon fewer, the fences more crooked. It was as if time had moved forward for everyone else but Ash, leaving him stuck in the echoes of a better past.
He was miles and miles from home—not just physically, but spiritually. Red was rotting in a prison cell, the one person he looked up to most. Brock had betrayed him, turned his back for a paycheck and a twisted sense of duty. His friends? Who knew if they were safe now. Pallet Town could've been ashes for all he knew. And Looker, that wolf in sheep's clothing, had made it crystal clear: if Ash didn't play his game, Red would suffer.
So what was he supposed to do?
He couldn't go back to Kanto. Not like this. Team Rocket owned the streets, and Looker owned the system. Going home would be suicide—not just for him, but for the people he cared about.
He looked out toward the pastures, where a couple of Mareep grazed near a fence, and tried to remember what it felt like to just exist in the world without guilt. Without fear. Without this constant weight on his shoulders.
Inside the Pokémon center…
Ash sat slumped on the couch inside the Pokémon Center lobby, elbows on his knees, hands laced together, head bowed like the weight of the world was trying to snap his spine in half. The quiet hum of the air conditioning and distant clinks of Nurse Joy behind the counter barely registered in his ears. He was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and somewhere deep in the soul.
That shed mission still lingered in his mind like a bad aftertaste. Knocking out that man… stealing that dossier… He was becoming the very thing he used to fight against.
Pikachu lay curled beside him, resting its head on his foot. Loyal as ever. Ash reached down and gently stroked between Pikachu's ears, his eyes glazed with the kind of fatigue you couldn't sleep off.
Then… buzz-buzz. A soft vibration against his hip.
He blinked, pulled out his Pokégear, and saw the name on the screen: Paul.
His eyes widened slightly. That name… finally, something familiar in this sea of chaos.
Ash answered immediately. "Paul, it's me."
"Ash," came the familiar, level voice on the other end—gruff but grounded. "You alright, man? Misty's been worried. We heard some shit went down with Red."
Ash exhaled through his nose. "Yeah… Kanto is dangerous right now. I'm out in the middle of… I don't know… Flocessy Ranch or… wherever that is."
"Flocessy?" Paul echoed. There was a pause. "Don't know it too well. Sounds like backcountry. At least you're not in jail. What's going on with your brother is messed up."
"Yeah," Ash said quietly. His voice cracked a little. "He didn't deserve this. And I—I should've seen it coming."
Another beat of silence passed before Paul spoke again, voice more serious now.
"Listen. I'm gonna send Reggie your way."
Ash blinked, surprised. "Reggie? Wait, really?"
"He's already in the southwest part of Unova," Paul said. "Closer than any of us. I called him before I rang you. He'll head to Flocessy to meet up with you. Until we get there—me, Misty, Gary—you shouldn't be alone out there."
Ash leaned back into the couch, feeling something he hadn't felt in days: relief.
He and Reggie weren't just acquaintances—they had history. Reggie had always been the calm to Paul's storm, the big brother with wisdom, kindness, and the sharp instincts of a seasoned trainer. If there was anyone Ash trusted out here in Unova, it was him.
"Thanks, Paul," Ash said, the gratitude clear in his tone. "Seriously… thanks. I didn't realize how bad I needed to hear someone say that."
"Don't mention it," Paul replied. "We're not letting you get buried out there. You held it down for all of us once, remember that."
Ash nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Tell Misty I'm okay… and tell Gary not to mouth off too much."
Paul chuckled faintly. "I'll try."
The line went dead, and Ash stared at the blank screen for a long moment before slipping the Pokégear back into his pocket. He looked down at Pikachu, who had perked up slightly, sensing the shift in his partner's energy.
"Well, buddy," Ash said softly, brushing Pikachu's fur. "Looks like we're not alone after all."
Outside, the sun peeked over the trees, casting a golden hue across the ranch. Finally, after these last few stressful days, Ash could properly relax.