Second chapter
Here is the second chapter, in quick succession after the first. A bit more description here. Do enjoy. The action will be heating up after this chapter.
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He pulled out a dark blue case and opened it, revealing all eight of his Hoenn gym badges, which he and his pokemon team had toiled so hard to get. Vivid images flashed through his head—every one of the eight gym battles replayed itself in the recesses of his mind, fulminating in an earth-shattering thunder attack by the shocking Pikachu, which brought an end to Wallace’s spirited and skilled defense of his gym’s badge.
Ash looked up just in time to see Pikachu bounding up towards him and perching on his shoulder as per normal, hoping to share in its trainer’s private moments. Ash, grateful for the company, ran his hands tenderly along every edge, bend and contour of the eight badges, reliving his moments of glory that were encapsulated in those eight thin discs of metal that meant everything to him; well, almost everything…
The Hoenn league was due to start in a couple of month’s time, and our hero (maybe he is not that charismatic or suave, but he is still our hero) simply felt that he had not got enough practice in yet. His moments of glory in the gyms of Hoenn seemed to fade to a distant part of his subconscious, replaced harrowingly by images of his past failings. He remembered the Indigo league, when a disobedient Charizard literally went to sleep on the job, handing Richie the win on a platter.
Till that very day, he still was haunted by the niggling questions that pervaded his thoughts—thoughts that asked what could have been if he had only gotten Charizard to listen then; thoughts that asked what could have been if he had been the one who progressed, not Richie. Similar failures in a grass tournament and a water tournament (Whirlpool cup), a loss to his dearest mallet-wielding friend Misty in the latter only troubled him even more.
The Johto league was a bittersweet affair, with our troubled hero finally beating his long-time rival, scourge and nemesis Gary after a blazing showdown which both trainers would likely carry with them for the rest of their lives.
However, it was bittersweet in that a loss to Harrison, a highly skilled trainer and one that there was no shame in losing to, followed in the next round. What pained Ash the most was not the loss itself, but the fact that he could, and should have won—Charizard would probably have gotten the better of Harrison’s high-kicking, fire-punching fowl pokemon Blaziken, if Ash had used flying and/or wing attacks, which he completely ignored in favour of flamethrowers and the like, which was something like shooting birds with tanks (the latter is just too slow to really hit).
He had prepared himself a little bit better this time around, making trips to pick up his old friends Pidgeot, as well as Squirtle and Charizard. With a newly caught Dusclops, Grovyle and the shocking, rosy cheeked Pikachu to complement the three pokemon he had just retrieved, Ash believed he had a team which could go all the way this time.
Banishing his worst fears and niggling suspicions to the back of his mind, he pulled out a copy of Pokemon Daily and started to read the eye-catching article on the front page (or at least the short synopsis on the right of the main article, for we all know that our hero is a busy guy right??)…
WHY DO POKEMON OBEY HUMANS???
In a nutshell, no one really knows the answer to the above question. It is again one of the myriad, innumerable mysteries of the fascinating Pokemon world.
Of course, there are certain explanations and theories being bandied around, with some bordering on ridiculous and corny, along the lines of the abysmal pop science we see on some of the dreadful sci-fi movies nowadays. But we digress. Some believe that Pokemon and Humans share an ancient bond, possibly forged out of co-existence even during ancient times. There are those who believe that in some long- forgotten cataclysmic age, Pokemon and Man depended on each other to survive, fighting side by side at all times, in a win-win situation where each complements the other and either cannot do without its other half.
The question is WHY… Pokemon are obviously much stronger than us and edge us out in physical performances, as well as their possessing abilities which even our strongest weapons would possibly not hold a candle to. They do not lack intelligence or any mental function that we also possess, thus it is puzzling why they not only are at peace with us, but are actually subservient to our purposes, allowing us to “capture” them for our own uses. More of this article overleaf, on Page 2…
“Wow, that was superb; it really addressed the question well,” our obviously keenly discerning, analytical and intelligent hero Ash muttered to himself. “But why “cataclysmic age”?? Must be a typing error, because I’m sure I saw that long word before, and I think it’s got something to do with cactus, though why an age of cacti is mentioned is beyond me; hey, what’s this??” Ash’s (forget about “obviously keenly discerning, analytical and intelligent”) attention was caught by a small advertisement in the middle of the paper, which went: Pokemon Tournament For Only The Best. Judge yourself against the VERY BEST. Details Below.
Our hero’s piercing glance took in the details, such as time, place and date.
“Hey guys, look at this… It’s a pokemon tournament, and they say here there will be selections to weed out the losers so only the best remain to compete, and guess what??” Our riddling hero shot out to his friends, who were clearing up after a hearty lunch.
“What, Ash?? Let us think, ‘cos that’s a real tough question. Hmmm, you’re going to win??” His friends replied with mock enthusiasm.
“How did you manage to get that?? No fair…” Our deflated hero looked puzzled and scratched his head absentmindedly. “Anyway, hand me the Pokegear, think I’m gonna call Misty and ask her if she would like to come watch the greatest master-to-be in action—she will be sooooo excited, I reckon.”
May giggled as she handed the red device over to our master-to-be hero: “If what I hear from you all is true, I think she will probably remember how our “master-to-be” (emphasis on these three words please) had to be fished out of a river the first time you guys met huh??”
Ash stylishly turned a deaf ear to the ensuing guffaws and activated the device, dialed his friend’s number and fired off at once.
“Hello, is that Misty??? Ash here… I’m gonna participate in a pokemon tournament involving the world’s best trainers and I kinda think I would do better if I had a few people cheering me on… You get my point??”
“Wrong number, and don’t talk so fast next time on the phone!!” A gruff male voice iterated over the pokegear.
Our hero upped the style factor by ignoring a louder chorus of guffaws and barely suppressed laughs and dialed the number again, this time exercising prudence and showing presence of mind to wait for the other party to say hello first…
“Hello,” went a familiar feminine voice.
“Hello, is that Misty??? Ash here… I’m gonna participate in a pokemon tournament involving the world’s best trainers and I kinda think I would do better if I had a few people cheering me on… You get my point??” Our hero repeated his words exactly for his friend.
“You want me to come all the way to wherever you are, whenever you want, to do whatever you want and however you want??" Misty retorted with the velocity of a machinegun.
“Um, yeah that would be just about it,” our not-so-tactful hero replies coolly; “I’ll buy you an ice-cream though, isn’t that just cool??” Our hero makes an offer he feels she cannot refuse, and one that is dripping with intellectual wit to boot.
“Ash, I really do not think I am going to be there; I got more pressing things to do than playing pom-pom girl for you at the moment,” Misty’s voice had taken on a softer but determined facet.
“C’mon Mist, you’re always there when I’m in a tournament and I don’t want things to be different this time ok? You did promise you would be there for me right??”
Our cunning hero recovered from the failure of his “cannot be refused offer” and played to his friend’s softer side, hoping that his puppy-dog plea would work when all else failed.
“Well, yeah I did but…… But there are like millions of trainers challenging the gym and I can’t just leave my sisters here… No insult to them but they’re just going to be road kill… Sigh, I’ll see what I can do, just email me the details and I’ll see what I can do… No guarantees though.”
With that, our hero’s dearest friend hung up on our hero, signaling the end of a seemingly fruitless conversation, at least from the viewpoint of our hero Ash.
A higher-pitched female voice interrupted Ash’s gloomy thoughts: “Hey Ash, don’t worry about it huh… Misty may not be coming but you still got us?? I mean, you still beat Wallace et al without her right??” May tried her utmost to pierce through the seemingly impervious cloud of gloom and doom that hovered over her friend, but even her best efforts evanesced amidst the cloak of palpable obscurity that shrouded her friend. Eventually, she shot a pleading look at her brother Max, who for once did not have a witticism up his sleeve, and then at Brock, who for once did not have any seemingly paternal advice to expound. She then gave up the chase and after a reassuring pat on the shoulder for her friend, settled down with her brother and Brock to help start a fire, for that would be where they would camp for the night.
Father Time crept slowly but surely by, and the surrounding woods, which when bathed with the evening sun was a truly beauteous zenith of Mother Nature—the soothing songs of the birds as well as the faint mating calls of the insects, the murmurings of the meandering brook nearby, the blood-red sunset through perfectly carved vistas and the canopy of the forest, impenetrable by light yet seemingly bathed in a golden halo, had given way to a much more mundane picture when night finally fell, and deepened.
Our hero Ash had gone on another one of his solo sojourns, feeling that he needed some space to breathe, but of course accompanied by his best pokemon friend the shocking yellow rodent Pikachu. The shadows of the trees had since grown longer, like some caricatures straight out of a horror flick, and the darkness could almost be touched, so dark it was; the silence was broken only by the calls of the insects, but our hero was grateful for all that.
“This place reminds me of another, Pikachu.”
Pikachu merely nodded its head reflexively and looked at its master, an earnest questioning look in the eyes, asking an unseen question.
Our extremely capable and understanding hero got the drift and answered softly: “It reminds me of the Viridian Forest, where even the dirt roads and tracks look similar, Pikachu, where the insects cry out in the same way and even the sunset feels the same.”
Our shocking electrically inclined rodent answered in pokemon language, its tone suggesting mutual agreement with Ash’s observation.
“More than two years ago, I was just another wannabe, a never-was, another person who had a dream to be the best. Fast forward, and now I’ve saved the world, saved my mum, saved pokemon, won battles, lost battles, met friends and lost friends, and it still seems that I’m right back where I began.” Ash’s voice strained when mouthing the final portion of his speech.
Pikachu recognized when his friend was down, and while not fully comprehending the gravity of the situation, snuggled itself against our upset hero’s legs, as a sign of comfort.
Random images whizzed past our perturbed hero’s eyes once again. Richie, more backpack than anything else, in a nice way though, flashed past his eyes with a victory sign. Tracey, always in the background yet always in the know, was just another one of his friends that he missed, as was Todd, as was Harrison. Gary, with his condescending smirk and trademark arrogance, zoomed past next, his mental image mouthing some unheard yet probable insult, but with a true competitor’s heart within. Misty flashed past as well, her face twisted into a sneer as she went on to beat the daylights out of him in his memory.
Our reminiscing hero’s thoughts froze on that figure, and replayed that thought, captured the incident, and sighed when he remembered that the one difference between that night more than two years ago, in a place so familiar, with sights and sounds so familiar, was that a huge part of his life was missing from the picture now, a squabbling man-eater with a huge temper and a huger mallet, but yet with the hugest heart, was missing now, and that life was just not the same anymore…
Cut to Cerulean, where our emotional hero’s dearest friend had just cut off the call from her friend.
She whirled around, and took in her surroundings again even though they were to her as the back of her hands were. The domed ceiling, the huge pool, the seats, the rooms, with one obvious discrepancy, that they were all empty. Given, it was dark and late in Cerulean, but the coming of the dawn would not bring much of a difference—she had lied about the multitudes of trainers challenging the gym. The gym could have been closed down for a week without many noticing.
Heaving a sigh, Misty looked through the stuff that cluttered her desk, official gym forms, stationery as well as photographs. A few taken when she was younger caught her eye, and were dutifully perused—a scrawny, red-headed girl stared back at her from behind the frames, at times with a weak smile plastered on her face.
She then turned her attention to some taken, mostly candidly by Brock during her journeys with the gang—one early shot showed her with her forefingers shoved deep into Ash’s mouth, trying to pry it open as far as it would go; another with all three friends as well as Pikachu and Togepi; one with her arguing with Ash over some probably trivial matter and lastly, one of her in a solo shot, without even Togepi, smiling to the camera like the world was a place where only bright colours existed, where sunshine beats back the dark, where all things good always prevailed—like the world was perfect. And it was. Comparing that shot with the earlier shots of her smiling falsely at the camera brought an even larger sigh.
Then came the clincher: a sketch of her and her friends done by Tracey, who had artfully shown with simple pastels and pencils their cheery demeanour and carefree dispositions. She laid back in her chair and stared out of her window, suddenly missing terribly all she had left behind when all she wanted was to start anew, to leave her friends to chase their dreams without her nagging and to pursue her own as well. Those reasons were all the comfort she had when she left them at Hoenn, albeit without Togepi, who she also lost, and it was simply a case of the proverbial last straw breaking her back. At the current moment though, she missed her friends, especially Ash, terribly, and also thought back on the times they were lucky enough to share.
Little did she know that in a forest somewhere, a certain someone was thinking the same thoughts as well…
It was rise and shine once again for our emotional hero, who quickly wolfed down a light breakfast faster than one could go “hey, slow down,” and quickly started on a surprisingly rigourous warm-up routine for his six starting pokemon, and had the burns from his Charizard’s flamethrowers to show what his pokemon thought about the sudden increase in intensity.
“May, Brock, something seems wrong with Ash today…” Max began.
May, who had just got up from a long night’s rest, thought it wise to play the big sister role by answering her mystified brother’s queries: “Yup, I noticed too Max. Ash’s jeans are a lighter shade of blue today. That is just terrible colour combination right??” A satisfied look from our beautiful, highly intelligent and astute female protagonist.
“May, with observations like that, you’ve got to be further down the evolutionary ladder than I thought.”
“What ladder??? I don’t see any ladder Max…”
“I can’t believe it… My sis is a drum… Skin on the outside, but hollow on the inside… Well, someone must have got all the good genes… he he…”
Brock cut in helpfully.
“I think what Max was trying to say just now was that Ash’s behaviour seems weird today… When was the last time you saw him eat a light meal and then go for such a strenuous workout like that???”
“You got a point there Brock, but what was all that talk about ladders???”
“Max, I think your sister is devolving into a perfect monkey…”
May looked stupidly at them, one hand holding a banana and the other scratching the top of her head…
