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They change each other little by little, in so incremental a way as to be unobservable except in hindsight.
Their first meeting is an explosion, an eruption of sparks and water, as she pulls him, quite literally, to the earth. Her anger, always simmering just beneath, is igniting instantaneously by his recklessness. She holds none of it back. She hasn’t yet learned how.
The second time they meet on the riverside it’s charged but fluid, celebratory but with an undercurrent of something more. When her lure wraps around his wrist it’s a challenge. And sure, Ash has never shrunk away from a challenge in his life, but this one, right then, he’s only capable of meeting halfway. They battle. He loses. At this season in their lives their kid-like bluster has been replaced by true and well-earned self-confidence. Each knows who they are. And in the light of the setting sun, on the banks of their river, reunited, Misty is not just the girl that followed him, nor his best friend, or any of the other trillion things she’s meant to him over the years (mentor, coach, cheerleader, confidant, rival, the list goes on), she is radiant. Sensational.
The third time is both accident and prophetic. Like somehow, despite the years, the distance, the changes and shifts and phases, they were always meant to be here again at the same time. He wasn’t even meant to be home, but Ash has long since learned to let his feet follow his intuition. Likewise, Misty should’ve been in Cerulean, but had woken with a sense of wanderlust too strong to be ignored.
Here's the truth – Misty has loved Ash half her life. So of course he’s on her mind as she’s sitting on their riverbank. She’s not even fishing, hadn’t packed her rod or lures. She wonders in a absentminded kind of way if he still has hers (he does). If he misses her too (yes, consciously often, deep down always). She’d hoped now that he was a Pokémon Master his travel would’ve slowed down, but instead it seems like he keeps traveling farther, for longer periods of time. It’s not that she wants to hold him back, only that her life is here (she hasn’t wanted to run away from it in such a long time), and she wishes he could be a bigger part of it.
Also true – Ash is dense. He’s traveled the world, but Misty, the first person he met after leaving home, has always elicited in him feelings no else has. When he was younger, he was always at his pettiest around her, wanting to tease, to needle, make her mad, have her attention. He’s never wanted to prove himself to anyone else the way he does to her. It’s why their battles have always been so intense, and why younger Ash had felt such a desperate need to brag around her. Her passion, devotion, so perfectly mirrors his own. He’s not a jealous or possessive person by nature, but her hordes the gifts she’s given him over the years like treasures. He’s so happy that she’s made such a beautiful life for herself over the years, but if he’s being absolutely honest with himself, he sometimes feels threatened by how close she’s become to their friends back home, Gary, Tracy, even Brock. Because their relationship has always been so singular, so special, and the idea of that being replaced for her makes his blood run cold.
There’s no one else he’s laughed with more. Shared more with. A million memories, some loud, some quiet. He’s spent countless nights outdoors since they parted ways, but he still thinks of her whenever he smells campfire. Like that first night of his journey, with the Caterpie, and full moon, has somehow imprinted on his brain. Or possibly it’s that, of all his traveling companions, it was only with Misty that he consistently, without fail, set up his sleeping bag so that they slept side by side.
Then there’s the fact that he thinks she’s beautiful. Even as a kid he’d noticed. He has this memory of her at Madien’s Peak, hair down, eyes shining. He just hadn’t known what to do with that information then. He barely has an idea now.
The third time they find each other on their riverbank Ash is overcome, the shock of it bringing up every feeling, past and present, so that he feels everything all at once.
He swallows down his surprise just quick enough to intercept Pikachu mid jump, grabbing the electric mouse around the middle and putting his finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet. Pikachu looks put out, ecstatic to see his Pikachupi, but acquiesces to Ash’s silent shake of his head, wandering a little ways to give them a moment of privacy.
As silently as possible he casts his line into the water.
The splash of it catches her attention. She whips her head around so that blue-green eyes lock on brown, the surprise in hers almost instantaneously eclipsed by joy, because Ash has always lit up her life like a lightning strike, vibrantly, and, often, out of the blue.
This time she isn’t angry. And this time she isn’t coy. She’s just so happy that he’s here, that they’re here again, she jumps us and rushes into his arms.
He catches her and spins her around, both of them laughing the entire time. She buries her head against his shoulder (he’s taller than her now) because she’s afraid she might cry, and seriously how embarrassing would that be? She can feel him still chuckling, the vibrations deep in his chest.
“Mist,” and oh the thrill that goes through her when he says her name, “what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?!” and now she’s looking at him incredulously, “what are YOU doing here?”
He shrugs as much as he can while she’s still in his arms, “I guess I just felt like coming home.” And maybe it’s her imagination, or maybe he really does tighten his hold on her as he says those words.
“And you weren’t going to visit me in Cerulean!” she smacks him, mostly playfully, on his shoulder.
“I’m literally on my way to Cerulean now,” he replies, smug. Misty blushes in response.
But the more things change the more they stay the same, “Well, see, this is why you should call ahead! You would’ve missed me!”
He resists the temptation to rise to her baiting, “I don’t know Mist, I kind of like the way things worked out.” His cheeks are a little pink but his eyes are smoldering, a deep brown she’s maybe never seen before, and he still hasn’t let her go.
And now she’s seriously blushing because is Ash Ketchum actually flirting with her?
Not only flirting with her, but doing so smoothly?
She fights the urge to giggle, because this is not the same little kid who sent a Caterpie to battle a Pidgeotto.
“Yea, well, I’m glad we’re here now, too.” She replies and he hums in agreement.
“What should we do? Want to battle?” she asks innocently, accepting they’ll fall into their familiar routine.
But he surprises her as he shakes his head.
“Ok well then what do you have in mind Mr. Pokémon Master?”
He’s frozen for a second, less then, before mumbling, “Uh just, you know, maybe..”
“Maybe what?” but she’s catching on, and it’s a dare (maybe it’s always been a dare between them).
But now he does rise to her bait, “Just come here already,” and it’s not resignation, or provocation, but a call to something bigger, a start, a covenant.
He leans down and his lips are warm and soft against hers.
The first kiss is short and sweet.
The second is all sparks and undoused fire.
When they pull apart both are smiling.