Chapter Text
Two double glass doors crashed open, and then there was the familiar scent, now, of a very faint disinfectant, of fast food and grease, of the sweat of traveling trainers. There was a beep, there were calls over the loud speaker, and the recognizable chime that meant Pokemon were ready to be picked up. He couldn’t see all that much, but the lights were bright.
He heard a concerned woman’s voice, and he knew her, and he could see her red hair if he cracked his eyes open ever so slightly. She said his name, he thought, and he heard more people responding. Then they said Pikachu’s name, which was so much more important, because if this was where he thought it was, she was going to take him away! And so he tried to make some noise, forcing his eyes open more, moving as much as he could (man, everything hurt so much!) He saw his little buddy, Pikachu, and he looked so tired, so hurt, and worn out, and even though some faint voice in his mind told him that Pikachu needed healing, he needed to be taken by the woman, he didn’t care. He needed Pikachu more, and he was never going to let Pikachu go again, no, he needed him, and if he lost him, he couldn’t!
“Pikachu, no!” came his slurred voice, and he tried to reach out, pushing against the pain and soreness and utter fatigue of his muscles, and why was he so goddamn tired? What happened?
That didn’t matter right now, though, all that mattered was Pikachu, and so he struggled more against the grip of whoever was holding him, and he was reaching, and maybe he was crying, now, and then suddenly someone was holding Pikachu out to his arm and he buried his hands in the matted fur. He immediately relaxed and quieted, motioning and trying to free his other arm so he could hold Pikachu properly. His eyes were still blurry, and still squinty, and so all he could really see was blurred colors outside of the dirtied yellow of Pikachu.
They moved him onto something soft, and then he was sitting on his own, and he could hold Pikachu close to his chest, bury his face in his fur, smell the blood, feel the static electricity, hear his murmurs in his familiar (even if it sounded pained and gravelly) squeaky voice. It was just so purely Pikachu that Ash wanted to cry with relief (he probably was. He couldn’t tell.)
He sat there, not really knowing how long, and he must have missed something, because then he wasn’t in a couch anymore, he was in what looked like a bedroom? Not everyone was there, anymore, and it wasn’t quite so bright, so he could open his eyes a little more. It looked like…Blue Hair and Red Shirt were gone? Someone (Brock, his now slightly more conscious brain could recognize) was with him, on the opposite bed (and this felt much better than the metal slat he slept on before. Wait, when did he…?) and Ash thought that he was looking at him, and he looked…concerned? Sympathetic? Sad? He couldn’t really tell exactly what he was feeling (a far cry from usual, when he felt exactly what everyone was feeling, so oppressive and pressing down on him. It was infectious. Sometimes, it was positive. Other times, it reminded him of all the times he’d drowned.) But from the eyebrows furrowed, it was something like pity.
“…Brock?” The boy opposite him smiled. “Ash, you look a lot better!”
“…Is this the Pokemon Center?” His voice was still a little slurred, and more than a little confused. Everything still felt so out of touch, almost like he wasn’t really there, like he was sleeping? Or…floating? He couldn’t really see all that well and couldn’t feel all that much emotion. Everything was so confusing and he didn’t really remember what had happened, and couldn’t really think in a straight line. All his thoughts were jumping around, like trains stopping and starting, and yet everything felt like he was moving through maple syrup, slow, and soggy, and thick. Everything hurt. It was hard to think of anything beyond himself and Pikachu.
“…Ash, can’t you tell? Do you remember us coming in here? Do you remember anything that happened?”
There was a long silence. He scrunched up his face, trying to think, but he kept losing his train of thought, and then he was staring off into space and then he forgot he was supposed to be thinking of anything. Remember…? Remember what? He was here, and Pikachu was here, and they’d kept trying to take Pikachu away, and everything hurt, and Brock was here. There’d been other people here (his friends?) and now they weren’t. What else…?
A sickening crunch under his clenched fist and then there was so much blood and he smiled—!
…? What? “What am I supposed to remember?”
Oh, man, his head was hurting so much! Where was Riolu? Where was that blue energy that used to be so plentiful in his heart? Where was…?
He looked over and Brock was on his phone, talking. Calling someone, probably, and then Blue Hair and Red Shirt crashed in, and oh, that was Dawn, and that was…? That was Kellyn. They looked worried, probably. For some reason, the sight of Kellyn made him want to cry, and also clench his fists. Was that…anger?
“Ash, are you okay? Brock, you said he can’t remember? Do you think he’s in shock?”
Brock stood up from the bed, heated. He looked angry. “Of course he’s in shock, Kellyn? What else could it be? He’s been so traumatized by what happened, and yet you just yelled at him, and then he shut down, and he’s been like this since then! He needs to go to the hospital, now! That should’ve been the first thing we did! Shock is dangerous, you know!”
No hospital. He needed Pikachu. “No! Wait, I can’t, no! They’ll take Pikachu away, I can’t, I…”
He was so cold. He shivered, hands shaking. His hands were sweaty, and gross, and he buried them even further into Pikachu’s fur. Dawn ran over to him, hugging him, while Kellyn and Brock turned to look at Ash, pausing and faces morphing from anger into sympathy. “Ash, don’t worry, we won’t let them do that, okay? Now just sit here with us, help is gonna be on the way. Brock? Call for help!”
Sooner than he thought, they were helping him into an elevator, and then they were outside, and there was an ambulance? He’d never personally been in one (even though he should’ve, so many times. He’d died, and gotten severely injured before, but he guessed that a legendary Pokemon’s healing was more powerful than any human hospital.) But now, there were shouts, and he was on a bed, and Brock was there, and so was Dawn, and Pikachu was there, too. He thought he heard them asking about family, but then Brock said he was from Kanto, and he’d been a legal adult since he was ten.
They were in a building now, and he'd thought the Pokemon Center was too bright, but this was different. Here, the lights were blinding, the smell of disinfectant was sharp in his nose, and everything was so white and clean. There were lots of people, and even though everything was dulled, and numb, the negative energy, the sadness, anxiety, hopelessness, of this place was enough to override that and drown his aura. It was all too much, but he just clung as tight as he could to Pikachu, and he closed his eyes and inhaled his scent, tried to only focus on the little sparks of electricity he could feel, and promise his buddy that they’d always be together.
He heard protests from hospital workers “This is a human hospital, not for Pokemon!” “Where’s the Pokeball?” and they were trying to pull Pikachu out of his grip, but he held on with everything he had, and he was yelling for them to stop, and he heard Brock yelling, and then he heard Kellyn’s voice, and then they weren’t trying to take away Pikachu anymore, and everything was okay as long as he was with his buddy.
-.-.-
It was so bright in the room. He felt loopy, even loopier than before. His eyes were heavy and burning, trying to close against his efforts to keep them open. His arm was itchy, and cold, and a glance over found a needle in it. His arms felt suffocated, at that glance he found they were both tightly wrapped in bandage. How long had it been…?
Hospital. That’s where he was. Pikachu!
He raised his head a little more to find a little yellow ball of fur at his feet, curled up and asleep. He was cleaner, now, and he wasn’t covered in blood. No longer gasping, he looked content. He must have been cared for, by someone. Was Nurse Joy here?
At the sight of his buddy, he relaxed back into the (rather uncomfortable, but it was better than cold metal or the underside of a truck) bed, and tried to remember. Hospital. He was hurt. Pikachu was hurt. The forest had been on fire. Aura. Hunter J, her maniacal face tilted back in laughter, covered in blood, being hauled away, and still looking at him with all that hunger and menace. His friends had come to save him. Pikachu had fought tooth and nail as Ash had, for their freedom. He’d punched J.
The battle, up on that ship.
His unbridled anger.
He remembered, now. He didn’t feel loopy anymore, not too much, and he wasn’t hurting all that much anymore (they must have given him painkillers. Must’ve been pretty strong.) There was terror in his heart, but he pushed that down because they’d won, they’d fought so hard and they’d won, and they were okay, and it was over. He was safe. There was no reason to feel negatively at all. All he should feel was relief, and happiness (so why was he still so scared?)
Looking to the side, he could spot Brock slumped over in a chair. He looked like shit. Ash supposed he must have looked so much worse. He could still remember, after the battle, up on her ship, looking in the mirror and seeing someone he didn’t recognize. He’d recognized the defiance in his eyes, but not the blood, not the bruises, or the dirt, or the exhaustion, or the brokenness. That wasn’t Ash. Ash was the charismatic one, who pumped his fist and smiled in the face of danger, in the face of unbeatable opponents. Ash was the confident one, who got everyone else to believe in him, to believe in their Pokemon, and to believe in themselves. Ash was the one who jumped into danger no matter the cost to his own life, who jumped at the chance to help anyone. Ash was the one who never got hurt (not noticeably, anyway.)
Ash was not the one who broke down crying, bleeding, throwing up, and going to the hospital. He was not the one who was afraid.
And, yet. Hunter J and her maniacal laughter. Hunter J and her predatory gaze. Hunter J and the power she’d had over him. He’d never felt so helpless before.
Ash was the one who rose to the bait when someone yelled at him! He was the one, even though he wasn’t proud of it, who’d had a fistfight with Lucario after he’d accused him of not caring about Pikachu. He wasn’t the one who just sat there, numbly, barely even listening when Kellyn yelled at him. He would’ve fought back! He would have defended his pride, because although he was kind, he was hotheaded and impulsive.
He couldn’t even remember what Kellyn had said, really, just that he was angry, and then Brock had gotten mad at him (something inside Ash’s heart warmed, slightly, at the fact that Brock, ever the stoic and patient one, had gotten angry on Ash’s behalf.) Everything was still a little hazy after that.
Ash coughed dryly, and it turned into a hack, and it was loud enough to disturb Pikachu, who cried out in worry for Ash, which in turn rose Brock. He felt his back being rubbed. “Hey, bud, need some water? It’s been awhile. I’m so glad you’re okay.” He was smiling, a small one (he looked like he was trying to stay composed, but Ash could tell he was slumping with relief.)
He accepted the cup offered to him and tried not to down it too fast. “How long…? What happened?” His friend gave a wry smile. He explained that Ash had gone into shock, after everything that happened, and he hated that Brock kept using the word trauma, because Ash wasn’t traumatized, it wasn’t that bad, he wasn’t that weak. They’d needed to get him into surgery, because his arms were severely injured, and they were infected, and he’d lost too much blood. The people at the hospital couldn’t explain, though, why his heart rate was so slow, slower than he should’ve been able to survive from. No one wanted to tell them about aura. He had burns from the fire, from Pokemon attacks (Brock was really concerned about that one, and Ash knew he’d have to explain.) He was poisoned. He had injuries they weren’t even aware of before (Ash hadn’t been aware of them, either.) He was severely dehydrated, and clearly hadn’t eaten in a long time, and was exhausted.
It’d been almost a day, apparently, since they’d gotten to the hospital, and they hadn’t expected him to wake up so soon. His Pokemon had all been to the Pokemon Center and they were okay.
Ash held Pikachu tight, too tight, and then wondered how he’d been able to stay. No Pokemon allowed. He knew the rules.
“Um, Kellyn kind of threatened them and told them that as a Pokemon Ranger he had the authority to override that rule. He threatened to get Officer Jenny involved.” He chuckled. “I don’t think it was all that legal, really, but I don’t care, and neither did he. We’re not taking Pikachu away from you, buddy.” Brock looked down at the electric mouse in question. “You were really difficult, you know, Pikachu, when we wanted to heal you. Ash was going into surgery anyway, and you needed a whole lot of help too…I know it’s been a lot, for both of you. Ash, you’re going to have to tell us, you know. Maybe not immediately, but they need to know what happened and how to charge J and her lackeys.”
And even though it had never occurred to him to not tell Brock, because Brock had been with him through almost everything, he suddenly really didn’t want to. He didn’t want them to know how weak he’d been, how cruel she’d been. He didn’t need them crowding him and treating him like a piece of glass (he knew they would, because he knew everything was really fucked up, and it was going to sound really bad when he tried to explain it, because the wounds were still so raw, and although he was getting better at lying, he couldn’t lie about this. Not so soon. They’d see right through him.)
His mouth was suddenly very dry, even though he’d just drank water. He held Pikachu, very tight, and tried not to clench his jaw too noticeably. He could tell that Brock noticed anyway, though, from the way his expression and body language changed ever so minutely. Ash looked away. “…I know. I will, just, I- not right now. I can’t…”
Brock’s gaze turned sympathetic. “I know. Ash, that’s okay.”
After a moment of silence, Brock pulled out his phone. “I’m going to let everyone know you’re okay, is that okay?”
He nodded, and after some time (he wasn’t sure how long. It wasn’t easy to judge time in this white, boring room), Dawn came charging in, and then so did Kellyn. She rushed over to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, though in comparison to her Ursaring hugs, he could tell she was being careful around him. Kellyn hung nervously in the corner, a little awkwardly, and Ash caught the irritated glare Brock threw him.
He didn’t want to think about that for the moment, so he buried his face into Dawn’s shoulder and tried not to cling too tightly when she started to pull away (he never thought he’d miss hugs so much.) He glanced at Kellyn, and they made eye contact briefly, before looking away. It was silent. The tension was rising, and Ash could feel the alarm and urgency radiating off of the Pokemon Ranger. He tried to speak first, but found no words came out when he opened his mouth. He turned his head to the side, hands creeping up to fidget at his bandages, and then Kellyn cleared his throat. Ash snapped his head up, but then Kellyn was hesitating again, and by this time Brock looked more angry.
And suddenly “I’m sorry, Ash.”
…What? He’d expected Kellyn to get angry again, but remorse? He’d worked so hard to save Ash, and Ash should be the one apologizing for getting himself into trouble!
More words spilled out. “I’m so sorry. I had no right to be so angry towards you, earlier. Sure, you were stupid for running off” a warning glance from Brock, “but, you went through so much, and I don’t know how much, and you were hurt so badly, and instead of rushing you to the hospital, trying to comfort you through your tears, I yelled at you and I accused you and I was unkind. I’m so sorry. I knew, I knew that you were going to run into danger either way, I knew that from the way you acted when we first saved Riolu, and I guess I was mad at myself for not doing more to protect you, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t right. And Hunter J, she was after you, and she wasn’t going to stop until she got you, anyway, and you still saved Riolu and put yourself in so much danger. You’re so brave, Ash, and though I might call it foolishness, I can’t deny that you probably have enough courage and guts to face off Arceus, or Darkrai, or even Mew, and not even blink.” (And wasn’t it ironic. Ash bit his lip to keep from mentioning that he had, in fact, faced both Darkrai and Mew multiple times without fear, and he was sure he’d meet Arceus. He’d cursed him enough that the god himself was probably going to come chase down Ash just to attack him. He made quick eye contact with Brock and Dawn and it was a silent plea for them not to say anything. They understood.)
Kellyn stopped, seemingly finished, and stood there, not quite satisfied with what he’d had to say. Another minute, and Ash understood the expectant look, then. They were all looking at him that way, and he just knew what they were going to ask. Question was, who would be bold enough to say it?
It took a few tense, silent, moments, before Kellyn shifted again, swallowing and looking off to the side. He was nervous. He hesitated. “…Ash, what did happen there? Officer Jenny told me that as soon as you’re ready, you need to report to the authorities what happened. They need to fill out their reports, and if you tell us first, we might be able to guide them away from asking intrusive questions. Can you…are you ready?”
After a moment, when their gazes went from concerned to alarmed and Brock stood up, Ash realized he was trembling. His eyes were wide. Could he? Could he really? (no.)
He had to anyway, though, and Ash was nothing if not willing to set his own needs aside to help others. This needed to be done, so Ash would do it. He was safe, sure, but he wasn’t quite out of the woods yet. He just needed to do this, and then he could be finally finished. Just this, and then it would be over. (He didn’t want to think about how just around the bend there would be another legendary, another criminal, to fight. There always was. Team Galactic…)
He sucked in a breath, and balled his fists tight, his nails finding the crevices from where he’d driven them in earlier. He let that small pain ground him. He locked his gaze with Pikachu. (It was a lot easier to look at his best friend, who’d gone through it with him, who would never judge him. Who wouldn’t treat Ash like glass, ever, even when he was hurt, because Pikachu knew how strong Ash was.)
He really didn’t want to do this, but he did anyway. He started out with the fight to free Riolu, when Hunter J had controlled Riolu’s aura to hurt Ash, too (and that felt like so long ago. Was that really just a couple days? Less?) How much it had hurt, how proud she’d looked, even then. How he’d fought the men, the hordes, the armies of Pokemon, completely surrounded, how terrifying it had been, and brawling with Hunter J, and forcing Pikachu into his ball. (He paused his story to apologize, saying sorry over and over and over, burying his head into Pikachu’s fur and letting tears escape only into the yellow softness.) How he’d woken up, in the cell, and crawled through the vents. The buyer. Her icy voice, the smugness it held when she knew he was there.
Crawling up the side of the plane, and Hyper Beam (he’d forgotten, already, how terrifying that still was to him) and then falling, and then being caught, and the pain, his arms, and all the blood. Spitting in her face. Drapion’s claws, suffocating him, and her nails in his cheeks. Her eyes, cold and calculating, angry, staring into his. How that gaze turned from one of fury into one of desire. The hunger he saw in there. How predatory she was, how she was toying with him! How he’d gotten Pikachu out, then, and fought. His flowery speeches, of believing in each other and his Pokemon (here, his voice had gotten louder, more convicted, as he recited his philosophy, the ideals he held in his heart, that he abided by, that he believed in wholeheartedly. No one seemed to mind.) The battle. His shock, at her aiming her attacks at him. How he’d tried to be cocky. How angry he’d gotten at her, how much he’d wanted to punch her. He’d been outnumbered, and utterly exhausted, even then. How he’d wielded his aura, even with little training, as a shield, and a weapon, his sheer determination overriding any of the usual laws about aura use and limited power reserves. How delighted she’d been, seeing him use his aura.
He told them about how he had lost, too exhausted, but before J could get him, he’d attacked her with aura so strong and bright it knocked her out and almost made him go temporarily blind. He’d found momentary respite, and then the ship had crashed to the ground. How hurt Pikachu had been. When he realized he’d been trapped, tricked, toyed with the entire time! How absolutely goddamn furious he was. How he’d attacked her, wanted to punch her face in until she couldn’t breathe anymore and all she could feel was blood running down the inside of her throat, choking her and how her nose had gone crunch under his fist and his hand had been covered with blood (and right then, he felt so nauseous that he was capable of that much hate and he retched, a little bit, but nothing came up. It took a few minutes to calm himself down enough so that he could speak again.)
How the man had picked him up, and he’d fought, and fought, but it didn’t do any good, and they were going to take him away! How he’d called for Pikachu, but it wasn’t any good, and how he wasn’t going to fucking let them win, not after everything, so some untamed, wild part of him (he didn’t want to think it was anything like Hunter J’s manic desire) was so desperate that he’d shot out his aura in an explosive, booming shockwave that was like fire, burning whoever it touched and just scorching and charring everyone that was within 20 feet of him, and then trying to escape, and trying not to feel guilty but at the same time not caring in the least about the people he could have just killed if he’d had just the tiniest bit less restraint. (Here, again, Ash had to pause and close his eyes, taking shaky breaths in and out and trying not to have a panic attack.)
He told his friends about how he’d ran, and ran, but then J had caught up anyways, and he was so terrified that he’d been frozen, and he’d tried one last time to intimidate her, but she’d just thrown her head back and laughed, like it was the absolute funniest fucking thing she’d ever seen, like she was at some goddamn circus show, like she’d gone absolutely fucking mad. And then she’d tried to burn the forest down, just like that, and he tried to fight, but she’d instead focused her attacks on him, again. (Ash’s voice was shaking, now. He’d been getting louder, and louder, more panicked, but now his voice was barely a whisper, trembling so much he could barely be understood.) He’d known that there was absolutely no aura left in him. He’d known that if he tried to push it out anymore, he would die. He’d been ready. (He whispered that part so quietly that they all had to lean in, too close.) But he’d done it anyway, because he was stupidly determined, and it hurt so much. It hurt so fucking much, so much more than all the pain he’d experienced, which was so much. He’d fucking died before, and those deaths paled in comparison. And for all that he hated water, now, hated swimming because of how many times he’d drowned, he would have gladly drowned a hundred times more rather than go through that ever again. It was so excruciating that he hadn’t known it was even possible to feel such pain, but he’d grit his teeth anyway, and it had been so hot, and he’d seen her eyes, and he’d known then that she was beyond saving. She was going straight to hell.
And then, as soon as he was fading away, when he knew he didn’t have even 30 seconds left, they’d come. And it was so awful, because he was so exhausted, by then, and his brain had just given out, and given up, and so had his body, and nothing worked anymore, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, could barely see or hear anything, and everything had gone all hazy and everything was hurting so much and he was so nauseous and he honestly had preferred death. He told them that he’d wanted to help, so much, and he was so relieved at seeing his Pokemon, and his friends, but he was still so scared. He told them about when Hunter J had gone to attack him one more time, how she suddenly seemed willing to die just to get her hands on his power, and she was willing to murder a thousand people just to have Ash, and he’d been beyond terrified, and then Kellyn had saved him. He told them how her face, laughing, bloodied, crazy, her body broken and limp as she was dragged away, would stay in his mind forever. It was the only thing he saw when he closed his eyes, now.
The room was silent. It was silent for way too long, and he could feel how goddamn terrified and angry everyone was, but they weren’t saying anything, and Ash wasn’t sure he wanted them to, because now he just wanted to run away from them, because he hadn’t wanted them to know, but he couldn’t do that, because they were too close around him, and the door was sort of blocked, and he was stuck on the bed, and the IV was still in his arm, and he was probably too weak to even stand up. Instead, he just sat there, fists balled so tightly his knuckles were white and his eyes were wide, too wide, unnaturally wide, and staring at the brown stripes on Pikachu’s back but not really seeing anything. He tried to push the thought rare from his mind, but it was still there, even if it was just a whisper, taking over all his other thoughts, and he was so anxious, and he was trying not to have a panic attack, but he was hyperventilating and he couldn’t stop it, and then there were tears, there were tears and he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t stop it, and he blinked and blinked and willed them away but it didn’t help and they just fell hot and fast down his cheeks, off his face and onto his clenched fists, on Pikachu’s fur, and why weren’t they saying anything, and!
And then they were hugging him, and they were crying too, and if he focused he could make out that they were all apologizing, over and over, and Kellyn looked especially guilty (he didn’t know how much pain Ash had been in. How could he have yelled?!) And Ash was trembling, shaking, and his throat was starting to close up, and Pikachu pawed at him, and he tried to focus on that, on his friends’ warmth, on their tears on his cheeks, on his hair, on his shoulder, and Pikachu’s cries of his name, telling him it was okay, he was safe, it wasn’t his fault, and that Pikachu loved him. He tried to focus on that, and it was hard over the loudness of J’s icy voice in his mind, but eventually he heard Pikachu more than he heard Hunter J, and he could focus on the things he felt in this room, the scratchiness of the sheets, the itchiness of the bandages, the pain medication starting to wear off, and then he wasn’t so scared anymore, and he could breathe again. Long inhale. Long exhale. Safe. Safe. Safesafesafesafesafe. He was safe. He was okay.
Little by little, painfully slowly, he relaxed and let go of Pikachu’s fur and he didn’t want to pull away from his friends, not really, but he did anyway, because they were probably feeling awkward now, because they’d been hugging for a really long time. And then, after a bit longer, he looked and made eye contact with them. Their eyes were kind and forgiving and sympathetic and he tried to ignore the disgust he felt at himself for how much he needed that and instead focused on the warmth that he felt in his own heart at their gazes. But, now. He would need to tell that story again. To more officers.
He didn’t want to, but his friends promised to be by his side. Kellyn stood by Ash when he needed to report his story. They were careful, with only the officers of the highest ranking finding out about Ash’s aura, the rest being told J had just wanted revenge for all the times Ash had foiled her in the past. They couldn’t let the news get out, if that was what had put Ash in danger the first time. He was immensely relieved.
Everything went by in a blur. He was reunited with Riolu, at some point, once he was out of the hospital, because although Kellyn had pulled strings to allow Pikachu in, he couldn’t push it. It was a couple days before Ash was okay enough to be discharged. He still felt weak. He had two arm braces, one for each, and those came off the second he was out of the hospital. He could deal with the pain! He was fine.
He was, though, mostly. Ash had always been good at compartmentalizing, at pushing things to the back of his mind to be ignored, and moving past everything scary to just focus on being happy and confident (of course, nothing ever really went away. It just surfaced at night, instead. Ash’s nightmares now were filled with her face, and her face morphed into Giovanni’s, into Archie’s, into every criminal he’d faced. Drapion’s attacks morphed into Entei’s, into Dialga’s, and into Mewtwo’s.)
A couple days after he was discharged, and about a week after everything, though, found Riolu wanting Ash to aura train, again, and found his friends excited to see what he could do. He’d found an immense power source within himself, and he’d been able to wield it (even unrefined) with an amount of control astounding for the limited time he’d even been aware of his own life energy. Ash was reluctant. It just felt…wrong, for some reason, but he didn’t know why, and he would’ve said no, but Dawn was looking at him expectantly, and Brock and Kellyn looked interested. He’d be okay with just a little bit, right? It wouldn’t hurt like it did in the forest. Maybe he could just start with an Aura Sphere. That wouldn’t be so bad.
Ash closed his eyes, reaching his hand and his aura out to Riolu and connecting their energies, searching for that calm reservoir inside of the Pokemon and inside himself. He could see in his mind’s eye the calm, glowing blue, could feel it, and he pushed past his trepidation and guided the aura out of his hand, forming it into a sphere, slowly, cautiously. He could, vaguely, feel his friend’s interest peak as he continued to put more power behind it, until it was concentrated enough not to flicker like a candle in the wind.
He opened his eyes. There it was. Harmless. It wasn’t going to burn him, to burn anyone, like before. It only took a little bit of effort. He was okay.
He stood up. “Wanna play a game of catch, Riolu?”
An excited bark was his answer, and they got into position, and then tossed the flickering blue ball of energy between each other, getting bigger each time. Ash got more confident each time they pushed the ball, and when he was feeling like he wanted to do more, Dawn suggested they spar (carefully, carefully, she emphasized.)
It sounded like a good idea, and Ash started the first move with an Aura Sphere headed straight towards Riolu, this time intended to actually hit him. At the Pokemon’s retaliation, Ash gracefully dodged and ran towards Riolu. As he got close, he summoned a shield, sliding to the side, and smirked a little as he pushed a glowing blue javelin out of his hands. The smirk grew into a smile when he saw the surprised look on Riolu’s face.
Ash grew more creative with his combinations, and they each grew more forceful, when suddenly Ash was no longer there, instead back on the ship with Hunter J ordering her Salamence to launch a Hyper Beam at him as he tried to hold up a shield, sweating and exhausted. Suddenly the Aura Spheres were no longer blue, but purple, and sharp, and each one that hit his skin was like fire, poison entering his bloodstream and making his muscles harder to move. Suddenly Riolu’s red eyes turned into her gray ones, crazy and delighted, sadistic and hungry. He froze. His throat choked up, and he almost fell onto the ground, but then he heard Pikachu call out to him, and he shook his head, and he was back on the battlefield facing off Riolu, and everyone looked concerned, and he launched into another attack. He would not be controlled by Hunter J anymore! She wasn’t there! She didn’t have the power to hurt him any longer! He was strong!
He decided to experiment, making to form a shield, but instead of around himself, he tried to create four to make a sort of cage around Riolu, pushing in and forcing the Pokemon to attack consistently and exhaust himself on defense, while Ash pushed forward with another javelin, ready for when he escaped. It worked, with Riolu panting by the end and narrowly dodging Ash’s offense, but it left Ash even more exhausted, knees buckling and sweating. This time, though, he was safe, and Riolu immediately stopped and rushed to his aid. This time, he felt rewarded. This time, he was okay.
His friends ran over, gushing about how cool he was, how impressive he was, and how amazing it looked. He smiled at the praise, matching the gazes of his friends. Then. He stood up, taking Kellyn’s outstretched hand, and looked him in the eyes. There was awe in there, but there was something else, too, that Ash couldn’t quite place, but it felt familiar and raised his hackles anyway. Kellyn smiled, a little bit, and stepped forward, and suddenly he was so tall, and Ash felt so short, even though Ash knew so many others were so much taller, but that didn’t matter now. It didn’t matter now, when Kellyn stepped towards him with a certain conviction, his tone odd as he said “Wow, Ash, your aura…it’s fascinating. I can’t…”
And before he could say anything else, Ash’s eyes widened and his body felt out of control as he lurched back and shouted “Stop!”
And everyone, including Ash, was surprised, and Kellyn immediately looked guilty, and Ash tried to apologize, but he’d just seemed so much like her in that moment that Ash had reacted without even thinking. (Maybe, he wasn’t quite as okay as he thought he was.)
He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, for a moment looking like nothing more than a scared little kid, but then he gathered his wits and stepped forward. “…I’m sorry, Kellyn, I didn’t, it’s just, I thought you were her for a second, and I didn’t mean, and, I just, I’m sorry.”
The Pokemon Ranger looked hurt for a second more before resolve came over his features. “No, Ash, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so close, and been so interested in your aura, not after you just got away from Hunter J who was hunting you for it. I’ll be more careful. Please forgive me, and please don’t blame yourself. I understand, and you need to understand, that you need time, and that’s alright, okay?”
A pause, and then he nodded. Riolu came running up to Ash, and hugged him tight, and sent him calming waves of energy. Ash looked down, and smiled. “Thanks, Riolu. You know, you’re an awesome Pokemon. I’m proud to call you mine.”
From below, Ash heard a “Pikapi! Pika Pikachu.” and laughed. “Yes, buddy, you too. You’re the best Pokemon ever and I love you more than anything. Don’t get jealous!”
He was okay, Ash decided. Sure, maybe he wasn’t okay okay, and he wasn’t great, but he was okay. He was alright. Life would move forward. He would have his friends. He would have his buddy. And sure, Arceus was sure to throw another criminal gang at him, another rampaging legendary, and he was probably going to die again, and he was going to meet people just like Hunter J, and though that terrified him, he was okay, now.
Looking around at his friends, joining in on his fond laughter at Pikachu, and he smiled. He was really lucky.
He was going to be just fine.