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Boy of solus, aren’t you tired?
There is a reason why Gary Oak travels alone.
“Gary.”
Gary didn’t say anything.
“Gary, you’re scaring me.”
Gary groaned. The dirt felt rocky against his back.
“Gary,” Ash repeated above, crouching closer to his face. “Gary! Gary—”
“Can’t you tell I’m trying to ignore you?” It was hard to ignore a boy hovering over you. He furrowed his brows, hazy irritation evident on Gary’s scrunched face, but Ash didn’t budge. With no personal space, Ash kneeled closer, practically inhaling Gary’s breath.
“Your shoulder looks like it hurts,” Ash pointed, fully concerned. “…That was a pretty bad slam.” Pikachu nodded, chirping in agreement as he hung from Ash’s backpack like a monkey bar. Thankfully, Umbreon was in her poké ball, or Gary would expect her to call for a battle to avenge him.
Of course, it had to be Ash. Ash Ketchum, unable to shed the loudness he carries, and his inability to use his inner voice. Life was so unfair. Gary had planned to practice his rock climbing before dinner and bed. It’s not a prominent hobby, but any well-rounded trainer knows you must anticipate the challenges new environments might bring. Gary should’ve been fine; he was properly hooked, maintaining perfect balance as he reached for the top of the low-height boulder. His leg slipped at the sound of Ash yelling his name from below, losing his footing and unable to avoid slamming his shoulder into the rock side. Then came a painful pop. Thankfully, Gary didn’t come crashing down; he hung attached to the rope until Ash could come up and securely unfasten him.
It wouldn’t have happened had Ash known how to mind his business and leave Gary be. It’s always the same song and dance; it’s been the same since they were little: Gary, who runs ahead and fast, and baby-steps Ash in disbelief at everything Gary does, practically ogling him. If Ash isn’t begging for a battle, he’s asking what Gary planned next. And Legends forbid, Gary doesn’t want to stop everything he is doing to battle. Johto is a large enough region that Ash and Gary shouldn’t constantly cross the same paths, yet they don’t break from the tether.
“And whose fault is that, Ash?” He wheezed through his pain.
Ash bristled. “Wha—! Me?!”
Coming down from his initial anger, Gary figured that Ash didn’t intend to distract him. Ash isn’t vindictive, not the way Gary can be when crossed. It had to be a random encounter, based on the bundle of firewood Ash was carrying. The excitement must’ve gotten the best of Ash, as that is often the case. Hell, maybe it was karma. Gary has disrupted Ash’s peace countless times, and for what reason? Just because Gary can and likes doing so. It’s so easy to get under Ash’s skin. He’d be a liar if he said he took no joy in being the reason Ash fumed and whined.
Gary drew himself forward and sat up, wincing as he gently moved his left arm. He grasped it tightly, feeling faint at the sting forming around the shoulder blade. It’s official — it’s a dislocated shoulder. Luckily for Gary, it wasn’t fatal, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. His attention darted across his surroundings, blinking away the tears forming in the corner of his irritated eyes. It was a quarter till sundown based on how the sky melted above them, a mix of oranges and yellows like a pineapple-mango shaved ice in the summer. Leaves rustled around them, meaning pokémon were hiding in the treetops and bottom shrubs watching them closely, and Gary did not want to be bombarded by a random attack. In Johto, paying respects to the forest and staying within your camp is the safest practice. With the setting sun, following any trail markers would soon be difficult.
“We gotta get out of here,” he offered, holding Ash as a safety net as he carefully collected himself. Gary stumbled backwards as he stood up, all the color draining from his face at the pain gathering around where the bone should meet the socket.
He peered closely at Ash’s sickly expression, scoffing at it. That Ash, always so sensitive. Gary offered, “My camp isn’t too far from here. I can do without the theatrics, so you go ahead before it gets too dark.”
Ash gaped, unable to contain those big brown sad mutt eyes, squeaking in return, “You’re nuts if you think I’m going to leave you here by yourself!” Ash jerked his head down the path he came from. “Come on, you’re staying with us tonight.”
Gary snapped his head at the suggestion. ”Hell no!”
”You’re practically defenseless out here in the woods by yourself. Stop being such a baby and come on.”
”I have an entire team with me; you consider that defenseless?” Gary questioned, unsure why Ash was so dead set on painting him as utterly immobilized. Ash must be projecting. What is there to be worried about when you have a well-trained team of pokémon with sharp instincts and even sharper claws?
”Come on, I feel bad enough you’re hurt! Let Brock look at it, it’ll be the smart thing.”
Gary looked down at his shoulder and made a gnarly sound at how the limb dangled. Not only did it feel horrible, but it certainly didn’t look right. He held his arm in place, breathing steadily as the pain worsened with each movement. Turning back to face his roadblock of a childhood menace, he felt at a loss — Ash had that stubborn, brazen look in his eyes — a look he saved for the battlefield. Ash locked his jaw, anticipating Gary’s next move with an open palm, waiting for him to take it. He wanted to protest further, but managed to agree sourly. Gary watched Ash roll his eyes, plopped Gary’s bag on his back, and signaled for Pikachu to walk ahead as their lookout.
Together, they hold their tongues in abnormal silence and head towards Ash’s camp.
. . .
“…Should I re-align the bone myself?”
Instantly troubled by the suggestion, Gary hit Brock with a double-take, dumbfounded. He began to sweat at the idea of having his bone cracked into place. Legends, Ash is lucky he is out of earshot; he would’ve cursed his entire lineage. “Now, wait one second—“
Brock smiled playfully, shaking his head. “Just kidding!” The older boy chuckled, flapping away Gary’s nervous energy. “A sling will do for now, but you must see an actual medic to get this sorted. It’ll hurt, but you’ll be okay.”
It was challenging to see Brock as anything but a medic, the way he easily folded the tarp into a triangle, gently draping it over Gary’s shoulder, keeping his arm and elbow aligned so the limbs were adequately supported. His nostrils flared at the discomfort, but Brock was wrapping up by tying the knot behind his back before he could realize. In truth, the stinging continued, though there is ease of pressure around the soft tissue. It’s better than nothing.
“That was quick,” Gary's voice sounded abnormally impressed, craning his neck to examine the sling keeping the throbbing at bay. “Thank you, Brock,” he offered, bowing slightly.
“No problem at all! It’s a relief that you’re alright, and that Ash convinced you to get help. That must’ve been an interesting conversation between the two of you.”
Gary’s expression softened briefly before hardening at the thought of his entire night ricocheting into a mess he didn’t ask for. Maybe there was some dramatizing it from his end, considering their campsite wasn’t anything to scoff at: a roaring fire that would last till morning, a large pot of vegetable stew filling the air, and a comforting atmosphere over a grassy terrain. It was quite an improvement compared to his one sleeping bag and canister of isobutane. The issue is that it’s not his. Gary doesn’t work with a group anymore, he solo travels like any respectful trainer making a name for themselves should. Ash wouldn’t understand the value in that.
He steered a glance towards Ash, the boy blissfully unaware of Gary’s staring as he scratched Pikachu’s belly by the pit — a trainer and his ace enjoying the crackling flames spark in the dusk.
“Gary—?” came out of Brock’s mouth, snapping him out of his daze.
“I know this is a bit of an…unexpected visit,” Brock continued, packing up his medical supplies and shoving them into his backpack. “But I hope you know you’re always welcome to join us. The food should be ready shortly, so feel free to sit by the fire and rest a bit.”
Brock had a calming energy, reassuring words and tricks up his sleeve, and, well, he was big. Gary could tell just by a handful of interactions that there was no need to fight Brock; you already lost the minute he decided you would.
He knew he had no game in this fight, following behind Brock as they joined the others. Brock tightened his apron around his midriff, stirring the soup, adding pepper sauce and onion seasoning. Gary cautiously settled on a wooden log in the seat across from Ash, breathing in relief. He looked up and caught two flying saucers gawking, startling him. Ash’s eyes were so brown, they were pratically jet black — too soulful for Gary to handle.
“Take a picture, yeah? It’ll last longer.”
Ash jolted. The boy gagged on his tongue before spitting out, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Then quit with the staring,” he ordered. As Ash simmered in his seat, Gary inwardly winced at how he sounded. He ignored the face Brock sent in his direction — an inquiring brow and curved lip — and what about Gary made it seem like he was some test subject? Some sign on his forehead that reads ‘Open to study!’
“I was going to ask if you’re feeling better,” he huffed, a faint hint of disappointment edging Ash’s tone.
Naturally, Gary waved him off. “I’m fine,” he replied, flatly. “Brock helped, but I still need to see a physician.”
“Leave it to Brock,” Ash breathed out, smiling slightly. He paused, brushing Pikachu’s ears back. “Thank goodness you’re alright.”
A warmth crept up Gary’s face. He shuffled to the edge of the log, blaming the fire’s heat. Slowly, he exhaled and gave Ash a confirming nod. Then he murmured, “No need to worry over me, Ash.”
With that, Ash hid his face deeper into his collar, turning his attention over by poking the fiery embers with a stick.
The evening began as a challenge, but Gary’s shoulder was secured thanks to Brock, and he had enough anti-inflammatories to keep the swelling down. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, though, as it seemed like Ash didn’t know what to do with Gary’s presence. One second, he bit his mouth to keep himself from speaking, and then the next, he fumbled around with sticks, avoiding eye contact.
Strange, per usual, Gary thought to himself, shaking his head. It was best to leave Ash alone to deal with his pent-up energy. Knowing him, he probably needed food and rest.
Sudden footsteps crackled near their camp, and the three boys raised their attention to the source around the corner.
“Fresh water, guys!” Misty called out with a large smile as she came sauntering from a clearing between the underbrush carrying their thermoses and a large jug.
Ash and Pikachu perked up at her arrival.
“Pikachu-pi!”
“Took you long enough, Misty!”
Now, Gary was curious. How did she manage to carry all of that and her togepi?
Welcoming Misty back with a kind smile, Brock ushered and handed her a kettle. “Wanna make some tea while I finish up dinner? Your pick.”
“Ohhhh! How about some of that oolong Sakura gifted us?” Misty tapped her chin in thought.
“Misty, doesn’t barley tea sound good?” Ash chirped, sweetness in his persuasion.
Misty shot him an unimpressed look and poked playfully at the side of his temple, earning a dramatic yelp from him. “Nice try, Ash. You picked last night.”
She kneeled beside Brock so she could set the kettle to boil. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked Gary, “What would you like to drink?”
He blinked at her, feeling slightly unnerved. Misty had an unexpected grace to her, a sort that made it hard to speak to her directly. He was unsure how Ash managed to survive it. “Um, anything is fine.”
His nonchalance didn’t satisfy her, as she was already three steps ahead, humming as she gathered supplies: a wooden measuring spoon, honey, lemon, stainless steel cups, and a tea canister. Swiftly, she prepared their teas and gave Pikachu and Togepi a dollop of honey.
Misty blew at the steam over the cup, wrapping a towel around the bottom before gently placing it into Gary’s free hand. “Here you are,” she said, smiling. It’s ginger tea. Believe it or not, it’ll help with any soreness you might be feeling. Let me know if you want more honey or lemon, okay?”
Gary nodded weakly, fiddling with the cup slightly as he took a slow, measured sip. Hot vapor stung his nose, but thankfully, it didn’t taste as medicinal as he expected. It was spiced, slightly sweet, but comforting. “It’s nice,” he whispered, taking another gulp, letting it tinge his throat as he swallowed. “Thank you.”
She replied with a cute head tilt, “You’re welcome, Gary.”
His cheeks burned awkwardly, to which he internally cursed Ash.
Misty went ahead and passed the remaining mugs around. Ash and Brock collectively thanked her, drinking in unison. They hummed with content as Brock began prepping the fresh cabbage salad and vegetable stew dish. Gary eyed the meal hungrily, and it hit him — this dinner would take a lot of trial and error with only one functioning arm.
“Don’t worry,” Brock assured him, as if he had read his mind instantly. I have a tray you could use.”
”Oh, right.” He blinked. “Thank you.”
“Or if you want, Ash could feed you.”
Ash nearly popped a vein in response. “Brock!”
“I’m kidding,” the older boy laughed. “Now, eat your dinner.”
“Thanks for the food!” Ash and Misty cheered and clapped their hands, bowing slightly in Brock’s direction.
Gary nodded, taking even bites. He savored the food, which was delicious and balanced.
Seeing Ash have such capable and considerate allies like Brock and Misty was bewildering; with meals cooked and tea served by loving hands. To share stories and strategy.
Why doesn’t Ash travel alone?
The answer was right in front of Gary — reaching out with open palms.
Overwhelmed by pinched nerves around his shoulder, Gary craned his neck and inhaled deeply, careful not to call for any more attention from the trio. Naturally, Ash goes against his wishes and is beside him before Gary could blink.
“Eat,” Ash prodded and poked, sitting beside him. “It’ll go cold.”
Gary deflated.
“What? Need me to feed you?”
“Eh?”
His whole body heated up with acute embarrassment, slightly mortified as Ash picked up his bowl and spoon. Gary froze. “Here,” he said boldly, bringing the spoon to Gary’s mouth. “The more you eat, the better you’ll rest,” he clarified, sounding eerily similar to Delia Ketchum.
Ash was serious.
Misty and Brock faced each other and minded themselves — obviously not wanting to add to the impending embarrassment.
Something stewed in Gary’s brain; it was murky and frazzled, but it didn’t stop his traitorous body from going against him. Instead of pulling away, by some miracle, Gary opened his mouth and took a hearty bite from the spoon under Ash’s orders. He chewed, swallowed, and repeated. Ash fed him earnestly and handed him his tea in between until Gary finished his meal.
After a beat of awkward silence, they turned away, yet remained inches apart. Ash doesn’t shuffle away like Gary expected; instead, there is a crescent-shaped smile on his ruddy, sweet face, and a firm hand on Gary’s unscathed arm. Tension washed away with the touch, and Gary doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Guess you’re ready for bed soon, yeah?”
Gary nodded, feeling instantly tired.
Before Gary could offer to help and pull his own weight, the trio synchronized, and everything was done: dishes, sleeping bags, washing, brushing, etc. He was left with one vital job, apparently, keeping Pikachu and Togepi occupied. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind. He admired Pikachu’s healthy coat and sharp teeth as he provided the electric-type chin scratches. And all Togepi wanted to do was nuzzle against Gary’s stomach, begging to be cradled. It turned out to be a very demanding, but entertaining role. He enjoyed it — pokémon were much easier company than any human.
Drifting his attention away from Pikachu and Togepi, he caught their trainers openly staring at him, both obviously pleased by the way they grinned ear-to-ear, sharing knowing glances full of flickering amber. They were so — they were too bright. Gary raised an eyebrow in their direction, silently conceding to the two of them as he felt way too tired to engage with whatever they were whispering about.
Dusk turned to night and calm draped over their tiny corner of the world like a spell, in a lulling trance. Exhaustion plagued any trainer after a day of traveling, even the easy-going ones like Ash, Misty, and Brock. They all took to their positions after minor chatter about plans for the morning. Maps and hospitals and departures — Gary drowned it out by the fireside.
Part of him wanted to dip out at dawn, leave with a “Smell ya later!” written in the dirt. For his own sake, he decided it was best to follow another’s lead. And much to his credit, Brock had an extra sleeping bag he kept for emergencies, so Gary might as well enjoy the rest and have a leisurely morning. Silently, he wondered how badly Ash would react if he offered to buy Brock off of him? Gary snickered at the mental image.
Despite the unique arrangement, Gary settled in fine — sandwiched between Ash and Brock with Misty on Ash’s other side. All four of them encircled the fire.
Cushioned by the plush, Gary relaxed his aching body and let his limbs fall. His last thoughts before losing consciousness are sleepy realizations — safe, warm, and by their side.
This isn’t so bad, he admitted to himself as the night took over, heavy-lidded eyes following the movement of Ash’s breathing back — so close, yet so, so far away.
. . .
Just as the dust clouds settled, Gary thanked and waved Ash, Misty, and Brock to continue, like the Legends intended. Separated, but on parallel paths, until Ash and Gary share their battlefield. Everything else? Gary doesn’t have the heart to accept. And Ash will just have to deal. In fewer words, they were rivals. Nothing else to it.
That’s how it should be; that’s the way it goes.
That’s how Gary managed to stomach walking through those doors — heavying his staggering boyhood heart — and not look back. And if he took just one fleeting moment to drop his convictions, he would’ve found Ash down the road at a standstill, watching Gary as he slipped away from his fingers once again.
.
.
.