Chapter Text
Teeth gritted, Ketchum tucked Pikachu under his arm with a roar of “D’aaah!” as he made a desperate leap across the glowing kaleidoscopic void. Time seemed to slow, and the air around him felt thick. Keeping his gaze locked on the little triangle tear back into his own dimension, he continued to will himself forward.
He felt relieved when his right sneaker struck solid ground – but quickly felt a jolting cold pulse as it slipped, sending him sliding back down. Mind racing, he flinched, lifting Pikachu and giving him a high-arching toss toward their reality. His best pokemon friend had never dragged him down, ever – and he refused to do the same to him.
“AaaAaah!” the boy hollered, arm still outstretched, fingers splayed helplessly as his reality and the Mirror World swept higher and smaller. “Take care of Pikachu! I’ll be back OK?! I PROMISE!”
"PIKAPI!" said pokemon cried with a flail.
“ASH!” Clemont yelped – moments before getting a faceful of jagged yellow tail that knocked him back like a bowling pin “GMPH!” hitting the ground and sliding back into the far wall with a conk. He and Pikachu lay in a heap with dizzied eyes and quiet groans.
The jagged black-haired boy had told his timid doppleganger not to cry – but couldn’t help tears himself “I don’t know where I’m going, but I WILL find you again, Pikachu, EVERYbody…!” as he continued to plummet, down, down, down into Arceus-knew-where.
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The next thing he knew, Ash felt a solid though cushiony surface beneath him. Lids fluttering, he opened them slowly, recognizing a Pokemon Center ceiling. “Huh? …where…where am I?” Body aching as if he’d hit the ground after blacking out, he struggled to a sit, half-flinching, lips twitching over gritted teeth. “Ow…OWow…nngh…” With a few blinks to clear his vision, he found himself staring down at his jeans in a daze – and amazingly recognized the pair, muttering “Whoa, I’m back in the Johto region? How –?”
“Heyyy, Ash, you’re awake!” came a very familiar voice.
“Brock?!” the jagged black-haired one uttered, blinking more rapidly now, looking up at one of his very first travelling companions, grinning widely as more joyful tears slipped down his cheeks. “It’s so good to see you again!”
The tan one raised a brow. “Ash, are you feeling all right? I’ve only been gone for ten minutes!”
“U-Uhh, well…” Ketchum began, clutching at his head to scratch it, eyes darting. “I…think I must’ve hit my head pretty hard. Everything hurts and I – er, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”
“Guess that was a pretty tough fight,” Brock said, approaching the side of the cot and giving the jagged black-haired one a careful look-over. Sweeping a hand down the back of the other boy’s head, he felt a sizeable welt – withdrawing when the latter flinched with a grunt. “Yikes, that’s a doozy of a bump all right. Let me go get you some ice!” He turned to head back through the door to the room; then paused with a hand on the frame, smiling gently “Try to stay conscious – wouldn’t want you to black out for another eternity!” then disappeared again.
With a small weak chuckle and a light shake of his head, Ash sighed, half-wittingly reaching up to feel his wound – and likewise twitching with another wince and cry as he touched it. Eyes darting again, he frowned, mumbling “How in the heck did that happen during a battle? Did somebody hit me with a pokeball or what?”
Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing them with a brief teeth chatter and curling up – and somehow only now realized that he was shirtless and shoeless. Double-taking, he drew his head back with more bewildered blinking.
Glimpsing the tan one return, he noticed that he too was also missing his shirt and vest and sneakers. He shivered again when Brock set the traditional screw-top icepack on his head, but slowly relaxed. “Thanks, Brock,” he said quietly, “but hey, where are my clothes? Well, most of them, I mean.”
“In your locker where you put them earlier, safe and sound,” his friend assured quite casually. “Now try to take it easy. You’re not in another match until tomorrow, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest up and recharge. You want anything to eat?”
“Well, I –” the jagged black-haired one began.
“Well, well!” another all-too familiar, quite smug voice echoed.
“Huh?!”
Indeed, now in the doorway stood his old hometown rival – also sans shirt and shoes, arms folded, looking in with that same old gleeful grin. “That was some fight, Ash!”
“Hey, Gary…” Ketchum began slightly sheepish, “Uh, thanks!”
The light-brown-haired necklaced-one only laughed rather loudly, pitch jumping in incredulity “Jeez! Taking a crazy Lickyiicky lickling like that just to get the drop on your opponent – not surprised you nearly bonked your brains out,” then straightened himself with a head-turned, palms-up shrug.
Ash stared in very visible confusion. “Lick…lick-ull-ing? I mean…well…I’ll do just about anything to win a pokemon match. You know that!” He managed to faintly smile, feeling his confidence return.
It quickly vanished when the other two now stared at him with the same confusion. Gary even tilting his head as he bluntly asked “What’s a po-kay-mon?”
“WHAT?! Whaddaya mean?” Ketchum blurted, mind starting to reel again, pulse pounding numbly. “Aren’t we – didn’t I – isn’t this – I – it –!” adding in a wheeze under his breath “I wound up in a world without pokemon?!” Pausing, and continued to think out loud in a hiss “Does that mean I was actually really fighting? NO, wait – Gary mentioned Lickyiicky, though! THAT’S a pokemon – then how – why – what – whaa –?”
“Quiiilll!” came a cry, and in bounded his old Quilava, climbing up to flop in his lap. The jagged black-haired one would’ve been relieved – if he wasn’t again dumbfounded by the fact that the usual flames on its head and back were now fiery-colored fluff. Pointy and warm, but soft, and instantly tickly to the touch.
“Whaaaat the…?” Reflexively, he dug in his pocket for his pokedex, which he found, flipping it open. After the typical recognition beep pattern, the electronic voice read out the entry plain as day.
“Quillhava, the semiplume feather ticklemon and evolution of Gitchaquill. It can move quickly and known to be sneaky, able to throw its feathers up to 120 feet.”
“D-…did this thing just say…TICKLEmon?” Ash wondered aloud, brow raised high as he mirrored the head tilt, pulling the screen closer to his face to check the readout. “So…that means…the pokemon tickle each other instead of fighting?”
“HA! Wouldn’t that be easy street…” the young Oak scoffed. Pausing, he cocked a brow again, pointing, and reiterating “You feeling okay, Ash? How hard did you hit that head of yours?”
Clutching it with another wince, and giving his temples a rub with a groan, Ketchum said “I dunno…I guess – maybe I – I – I must have amnesia. I don’t remember ANYthing, except who I am. And I’m not even too sure about THAT right now!”
He didn’t see the others share a rather genuine concerned look, though Gary added “Aw, don’t tell me you’re pulling the old amnesia trick to wriggle out of your next match, Ketchum!”
“I’m not, I’m really not!” the jagged black-haired one insisted, brows convex. “I don’t know what happened but I can’t remember anything and it’s just making my head hurt more! Aaah…nnngh…!”
He felt the tan one give him a pat and a warm rub on the back. “I believe you, Ash!” he said, with a firm nod. “Listen, you just rest up right now, all right? Take a nap, take it easy. Then later I’ll get you some lunch and we can watch some of the afternoon matches. Hopefully that’ll jog your memory. Whaddaya say?”
“Mm…yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thanks again, Brock.” With a sigh, and now a genuine wide yawn, he slowly lay back on the cot, his head comfortably on the icepack and pillow. He tried to wrap his arms around the already snoozing pleasantly warm Quillhava, but its feathers kept tickling his palms and fingers. “HmhmHM! Hmhm…mmn…” With a last longer sigh and half-eyeroll, he let his arms drop to his sides as his eyelids slid shut.