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It was the fast movement combined with a surprisingly loud sound of fingers scratching against a tent wall that woke her. It sounded urgent, panicked. A quick look over at Bonnie sleeping in her tent told her it had to be Ash or Clemont, and a questioning “Pikapi…?” was all the confirmation she needed. There was more frantic scratching against the walls of the tent before she heard the zip come down and his footsteps ran past her tent.
After a shocked and still sleepy 30 seconds, she was up and out as well, after him. This couldn’t be anything good. She found Ash sitting, silently, back turned to her looking out into the distance about 100 feet away from their campsite. She watched him, hesitant. She could see the tension in every muscle of his body even from here, even through the darkness. After another beat of reluctance, she walked carefully over to where he was, making enough noice so as to not startle him. Was he…crying?
Serena was floored. She had never seen Ash cry, not like this. Not this unashamed, actual sobbing (still silently. She wondered if old habits died hard.). When he heard her approach, his shoulders hunched up even further. “…Serena? Why are you up?”
Really, this boy was so hypocritical. Always worried about the safety of others while not giving a damn about his own life (She did not know the full extent to which his recklessness and disregard for life could reach when it really mattered.)
“I heard you in your tent. I was worried. Did you…” she hesitated. “Was it a nightmare?”
Ash seemed to accept there wasn’t really a way to deny it. “Yes.”
“Do you want to tell me anything about it?” Desperately, she wanted him to. She wanted to be his confidant.
Ash didn’t respond. No, went unsaid. Because really, he wasn’t sure. On the one hand, he’d already kind of let Clemont in, and he had promised himself he would open up to his friends more. He knew it was important to not keep everything bottled up. And he trusted Serena. He did. He really trusted her, (maybe it was a little more than trust too, but he was not up to pondering that right now.) On the other hand, he didn’t want to think about his dream. About almost drowning, the different times across the years blending into each other. In the ice cold water of Shamouti Island, where Pikachu struggled so hard to hold him up and Misty had to risk her life to save his. In the deep, deep water of the castle under the sea, where the water pressure was so intense he felt like his lungs were crushed and then he ran out of air and there was no surface to swim up to—!
He didn’t know if he could talk to her because back in Unova, no one believed him. Without Brock there, there was no one to back up his stories, and Iris called him a little kid and Cilan dismissed him with a wave. He didn’t want to feel like a liar and an idiot. He wasn’t one. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the best at school or math, but it’s not like he was trying to study to reach college. He hadn’t been to school in at least 6 years, since he’d started his Pokemon journey when he was a mere 10 years old. But he knew he was smart about Pokemon, and gym battles, and about loving his Pokemon. And he was strong and his bonds showed that. Pikachu showed that. Greninja showed that. His victory and fight up on Prism tower proved that, considering his Pokemon hadn’t rested in between that and his Finals battle against Alain.
“I…remember how I told you and Bonnie about what happened up on Prism tower?” A nod. “Well, what really, really bothered me was when Lysandre called me one of the Les Choisis. Chosen Ones.”
Serena chanced a quiet “…how come?”
He suddenly looked back at her, more upset than he’d been. He raised his voice (barely, it was still late (late enough to be early) and he was trying to whisper. And not at her, never at her. She could tell he was not angry at her). “Because I’ve been trying to escape that title for so long! I hate labels! Why do I, why do they have to call me that? I don’t want to be destined to help people! I don’t want there to be some ancient prophecy about a Greninja using the bond phenomenon or about a stupid pun on my name! ‘The Earth shall turn to Ash’. Are you kidding me? I want to just save the world a million times because I help people! I don’t want the fate of the world resting on my existence! I just want to be a normal kid.”
Serena was quietly shocked. She knew there was so much she didn’t know. She didn’t know how much of the story she was missing, but she knew it was a lot. She realized she knew barely anything about Ash’s past. And she wanted to know. So, so badly. She wanted him to trust her. And she knew he’d saved the world, with their help, just the other night. But how many times had he done it before? Five times? Ten times? And the Chosen One? What…? Destined? Prophecy? Earth shall turn to Ash?
She had a million and one questions she wanted to ask, but first she walked over to him, sitting down next to him and leaning on his shoulder, fond and supporting. They sat in silence for awhile, stealing uncertain glances at each other, seeing by the dim starlight in the sky. The moon had set by this time of night already. Eventually, she got up the nerve to ask “What do you mean, about the prophecies, and the Chosen One? You don’t have to tell me if you feel like you can’t.”
He shook his head. “No, I want to. Trust me when I say I want to trust you. Hmm, I— Do you remember that time 4 years ago when there was a huge storm and it caused all sorts of unnatural weather, like snow in summer?”
She did remember. She’d been training on a Rhyhorn, sweating like a Swinub when suddenly it started snowing. “Wasn’t it something about ocean currents in the Orange Archipelago?”
He nodded. “In Shamouti Island. It was caused because Articuno, Moltres, and Zapdos got disturbed and they were angry. There was a prophecy about this happening. I remember it clear as day. ‘Disturb not the harmony of fire, ice or lightning, lest these titans wreak destruction upon the world in which they clash. Though the water's great guardian shall arise to quell the fighting, alone its song will fail, and thus the earth shall turn to ash.’.”
He let that sit for a minute. “It wasn’t talking about ash, as in cinders. It was talking about— about me. For some reason, I was the almighty Chosen One who had to save the world. I was twelve. I’ve been saving the world ever since then. I don’t want to be the Chosen One. I want to be just Ash, a boy from a little town full of farmland in Kanto.”
She had to sit and contemplate that one for a little while. But, to Ash’s surprise and relief, she didn’t scoff and call him a kid, or say he was lying. Instead, “Je te crois. I believe you, Ash. I believe you. That must have been— must still be— very hard. I’m sorry. But more than just believing you,” she said, voice becoming stronger and more affirmed, “I believe in you. I believe in the strong Ash I know, the kind, loving, mature, smart, strong, amazing guy, trainer, and friend. The one who never gives up until its over. That’s the Ash I look up to. And I know that you can do whatever the world needs you to do. But I also need you to know that it is okay to feel scared, to want a break. You, out of all people, deserve it so much. Especially now.”
He looked so surprised, so grateful and hopeful, so unused to validation that it broke Serena’s heart. “It’s happened so many times, you know. And it’s always just been something I do. Something I have to do. It’s nice to have your support, it really is. Thank you.”
“…How often do you have nightmares about it?”
A beat.
“…too often.”
“Oh, Ash—!” Screw it. She was gonna hug him, teenage hormones be damned. She wasn’t blushing right now, and usually she would be red head to toe from embarrassment. But this was too important to care about that.
He hugged her back, after a second. They stayed like that for awhile, both breathing just a little heavier than normal. Not crying. She was not crying. And neither was he. Ash was not crying either. They were both just, just—
Ash’s memories of every single time he had ever saved the world, especially in nightmares, seemed to blend together because so many of the situations were strikingly similar. But at the same time his memories were so, so specific like every detail of every saving the world adventure was recorded into a camera, burned into his psyche as it played over a thousand times, every single night in his mind until the next one. Until the next time he had to save the world. It was a vicious cycle. But maybe, maybe, if he had someone else who knew, who understood, he could maybe take a little break from the cycle. Or at least someone who was there to remind him that he okay, and loved, and could make it through to the next day when he woke up desperate and in tears. That was okay, for now. Not perfect, never perfect. But human. He was human (albeit one that had quite unusual experiences) and thus had human experiences.
"Ash, je me soucie tellement de toi. Et quand tu auras besoin de moi, je serai là. Tu peut me faire confiance. Je ...Je t'aime. Tu es mon héros, tu es mon héros et mon modèle depuis l'âge de six ans. Je t'ai toujours admiré et depuis que je voyage avec toi, tu a toujours été là pour me soutenir. Il est temps que se soit à mon tour de le faire, que tu me laisse te soutenir. Fait-moi confiance. Je te crois. I believe you.”
“Merci, Serena. Thank you.”