Well, here’s chapter 3.


Disclaimer – I do not own Pokemon or any of the characters in the games or 
the animations, they all
belong to the various owners and proprietors of Pokemon itself.


So, here goes nothing.


Child of the light one - Chapter III



: The time grows nearer. I wait with baited breath, a feeling of pulsating 
suspense I have never felt
before in my reign of a thousand lifetimes. I may lament forever on my 
errors, if there is eternity to live
or forever to die, but at least I can discover one or the other. It is not 
loneliness which tears at me, it is
the knowledge that I must bear through it all again. This is the knowledge I 
seek to disprove.:



She pulls out her wallet, and I just know she’s got her eye on the Poliwhirl 
figurine in the window.
Yeah, that’s the one, the one with the crystalline body punctuated with a 
swirl of black and just a mere
hint of blue. The one that costs too much. Well, sixty-nine dollars is too 
much by my estimate for
something you’ll look at once a week on the mantelpiece. And since Misty 
hasn’t got a mantelpiece,
that’ll be a trial on its own. I know what’ll happen, she’ll complain her 
backpack is full, I’ll back off
saying that I carry the cooking stuff, and Ash will eventually end up 
carrying it. Oh, and the plush
Horsea doll, and the lucky china Tentacruel. And whatever else she chooses 
to buy today. He’s going
to get backache. And a dislocated shoulder, and a strained neck, and chest 
compression injuries when
he collapses under the weight. But he always buys a bigger backpack, never 
passes it off even though
he’s carrying Chikoritas and Pikachus stuff as well. Yes, Pikachu and 
Chikorita, of whom Pikachu
currently is riding the good ship Ash with the attitude of ‘Well he’s 
carrying the bags, so I won’t hurt’.
Chikorita is trailing behind us, eyes cast down. Something is going on here, 
a few hours ago she
seemed to be his greatest ally, now she’s almost in disgrace. Ash himself is 
patiently awaiting Mistys
orders, he’s taking my request of him seriously. He’s been at her side for a 
whole two hours, never
complaining, never arguing. Occasionally, he’ll drop in a nice comment about 
her choices, or how she
looks, and I can almost feel the blush radiating from her. I catch his eye, 
which glints in the morning
sun as he casts it to the skies. He’s doing a real impressive job of 
building her up, especially taking into
account how much he hates shopping. Even at this time of the morning, when 
the city is almost silent.
It’s true what they say in the guide, this place doesn’t even wake up until 
the afternoon.
“Oh! This is beautiful!” She heads for the shop with Ash faithfully 
following her. I’m about to follow
when a sniffing around my feet makes me stop. A red, fox-like Pokemon is 
looking up at me with a
quizzical expression.
“Vul, vulpix vul.” She moves away slowly, before looking back at me. “Vul?”
“She’s asking if you’ll follow her.” Ash calls over his shoulder before 
following Misty into the shop. I
don’t know how he knows, but the sight of the Vulpix barrelling off into the 
distance is enough to
persuade me to pursue. Chikorita dives out of the road with a frantic squeal 
as I thunder past, and I
pursue it through the almost empty streets to a back alley. From the alley I 
can hear voices.
“It’s unusual to see one of these in a city.” A man’s voice, quite 
high-pitched and gentle.
“Yeah, but it seems a little malnourished and ragged. It might have been 
driven out by its parent.” A
woman’s voice, a tone which strikes something deep, deep within. The Vulpix 
sends one final look
back at me before going into the alley, and I feel my feet carry me in where 
I set eyes on two people.
One a guy with green hair and a headband, the other looks like a very 
attractive woman. There’s
something about the two of them… “I’ll catch it, it needs looking after.” It 
couldn’t be, I just couldn’t!
“…I’ve needed another fire type, and there’s nothing more beautiful than a 
well groomed Rapidash.”
“Vul!” The Vulpix yelps indignantly from her feet.
“Well, excepting you obviously!” A red glow illuminates the alleyway, and 
the two of them slowly
turn around and continue their conversation. Even through the clinging 
shadows I know it’s her.
“So how did you meet Brock, Tracey?” I was sure I knew him from somewhere 
too.
“I was travelling with Ash and Misty through the Orange Archipelago and met 
him briefly before they
headed out to Johto. How about you Suzy?” The name freezes me to the spot. 
Yes, by god, it is her!
“We first met in my breeders centre back in Johto, and I gave him Vulpix. We 
met later at a breeders
show, and he gave her back to me.” I step out of the shadows, just as she 
walks past.
“And now, we meet for a third time.” She nearly does a backflip, and spins 
around clutching her chest.
“Jesus! Brock, is that really you?!” I take a step closer, and she gasps in 
joint surprise and relief.
“I think it’s me, just let me check.” I look over myself, and nod. “Yeah, I 
think it’s me.” She looks
stuck between A : hurling herself at me or B : having Vulpix make “Brock Au 
Vin” on high heat.
“Brock!” Judging by the way she’s hurled herself at me I think its option A.
“It’s nice to see you too Suzy.” She pulls back, and I find she likes both 
options. “That’s for giving me
a heart attack!” She laughs as Tracey sends out Marril to extinguish my 
trousers.
“Ah, re-unions can be such bittersweet occasions.” I shoot him a glare which 
he grins straight through.
“Especially when you nearly kill said friend.” Suzy giggles, reaching down 
to pet Vulpix.
“So you return the favour.” I grumble, trousers now quietly smouldering as 
Marril giggles with her,
while balancing a bubble on her nose.
“Right now, I think it’s time to find a café, I get the feeling there’s 
going to be a few life histories spilt
in the next few hours.”
“Tracey, you’ve hit the nail right on the head as usual.” He hasn’t changed, 
he’s still got that way of
reading people and situations. He’d make a great Psychoanalyst. I think he 
thinks it’s a hobby.
Sketching is a hobby. But he doesn’t sketch, he takes it to a new level. 
It’s more like he invents, sees
what he sees and perfectly transfers it to paper. It’s the same when he 
watches and listens, you get the
idea he’s painting a mental picture of everyone, how they act to each 
individual and in a group, what
they push and what they avoid. Hmm, he could be useful, if a little 
mercenary.
“Broo-oock.” Suzy shatters my world of thought, and I look back up.
“Someone’s in another world.” Tracey cocks his head at me. “What’s clouding 
you up Brock?” Yes, he
could definitely be helpful.
“Let’s get to the café, then I’ll tell you all about it…”



Yeah, it’s a comfortable seat, and I don’t have to do any work. But I’ve got 
tired of Mistys vehement
exclamations whenever she sets eyes on something mildly interesting or cute. 
Ash just looks happy,
like he does whenever he lets me and Chikorita roam around a meadow, despite 
Chikorita dragging
him to inspect every bloom and weed in it. Sort of glad someone he loves is 
having a good time, even if
he’s tired. But now I’m tired, and it’s approaching lunchtime.
(“Ash, let’s get some food!”) I growl, and look to Chikorita for support. 
Nothing there.
“Pikachu, Misty is in command. It’s up to her when we go for lunch.” Misty 
grins silently, and now I
curse the demand we made of Ash. If he’d got a hint of his old belligerence 
we’d be on the way
somewhere right now. Not poking around silly shops.
“Ah!” The red hair in front of me washes across my vision as Misty spies a 
shop on the other side of
the road. The dregs of scent harnessing my nose tells me what I need to 
know, and that is only one
word. Perfume. Chikorita perks up; she seems interested in the new smells 
too. “Come on Ash, over
there!” I can feel his shoulder stiffen to the consistency of dried concrete 
as he sets eyes on the delicate
bottles and crass plastic flowers decorating the shopfront.
“Uh, could you go in alone Misty?” She turns around and gazes at him in 
puzzlement as I mimic her
gesture from his right shoulder. It’s the first time he’s gone against her 
all day, and I don’t know why. I
mean he’s always hated and avoided perfume (except on an attractive woman) 
but he looks kinda
scared. Scratch that, he looks petrified.
“Why? It can’t hurt, and I want your opinion!” Before we know it, we’re 
across the road, courtesy of
Misty’s strong grip. The stronger scent wafting from the shop is enough to 
block my over-sensitive
nose, but by the way Ash suddenly jerks back you’d think he’d been stung.
“No, no. I want to stay out here. Please? Chikorita can go in with you, 
she’s better at this sort of thing!”
He’s getting frantic now, and she’s concerned.
“I know you’ve never liked perfume but there’s no need to panic!” She 
studies him closely for just a
second, taking in the dilated pupils and clenched hands, before shrugging. 
“Okay, so it’s me and one of
you two.” She glances first at Chikorita, then at me. “Volunteers?”
(“You go in Pikachu. There’s something I want to talk to Ash about for a 
moment.”) Chikorita takes
me by surprise, I’d almost forgotten what she sounds like.
“Fine, c’mon Pikachu.” Damn, I got sold off then. Misty lifts me off Ash, 
and sets me down. “But I’d
like an explanation when I get out, if you please.” She growls at Ash, 
before spinning and stalking into
the shop, and after giving Chikorita a ‘you’re roadkill when I get hold of 
you next’ glare I benignly
follow her. I’d like to know what’s so important that I have to go into a 
perfume shop, as you could
send me to the fires of hell before somewhere like this. My nose is just too 
sensitive…a-aah-ahtishoo!
The million mingled scents assault my sense of smell like a marauding crew 
of pirates, and I growl
quietly. There’s going to be hell to pay alright.



(“It sets you off doesn’t it?”) I paw at Ashs leg, trying for a response. No 
sale. (“It’s something to do
with the strong smells, the essences in the scent.”) Ah, a flicker of the 
eyes there, I’m onto something.
(“It is, isn’t it?”)
“Yeah, something like that.” He glances around the street cautiously before 
crouching down. I can see
the mistrust lingering in his eyes being overridden by a desire, a desire to 
share his burden. Slowly, the
desire won. “I don’t know exactly, when it’s being worn and it’s not too 
strong it doesn’t affect me.
But when I’m in a shop like that it makes me flush, and then anything can 
happen.” He scratches his
head, voice laced with confusion at his own words, face ridden with 
uncertainty at talking to me. But
he needs to say it, no matter how it sounds. And I’m the only one he can say 
it to. “Misty thinks I flush
because of being embarrassed, a guy in a perfume shop, but I just get really 
hot. Really, really hot, like
I’m going to pass out. Do you remember that time in the Johto region, when I 
ran out of the shop
looking like I was going to be sick? Well, I was sick in the public toilet 
down the road. I get the same
feeling as when I have those…morphs. Sometimes stronger. It can set the 
morphing off. But once, just
once I felt something else happening, the last time I was in a shop like 
this. Remember, about two
months ago?” I do remember, and well. He’d shot from the store after being 
in there about ten minutes,
and we hadn’t seen him for three hours.
(“Yeah, I remember. What went on then?”) He looks unsure again, so I rear up 
on my hind legs to look
him in the eye. They meet, red to hazel, and I can see him relax. He knows 
again, if he’d doubted it,
that I’m still here for him whenever and wherever, no matter what has 
happened in the past. He takes a
shuddering breath, before continuing.
“Well, I ran back to the Pokemon Centre, where I locked myself in. I decided 
to take a shower to cool
off, and when I took off my shirt, my chest…was covered in this red, downy 
stuff. A bit like a Pidgeys
breast, only the colour of Charizards tail. That’s why I hid away, after a 
few hours it faded out, and I
sort of moulted in the shower. Ever since then I’ve been wondering….what am 
I? Some sort of
werewolf, a freak, is that me? You used to cause me problems until I’ve got 
something of an immunity
to your sweet scent, but too much of that in my direction can cause changes. 
It’s not just smells, any
strong Pokemon using its technique, such as Pikachus electricity and the 
poison of a Weezing can
trigger it if it hits me. And the older I get, the more unstable I get and 
the longer these things happen
for. And I don’t know what to do….” I can see it in his eyes, he’s going to 
cry if I don’t do anything,
he’s got himself worked into a new frenzy of panic which will knock him down 
if unchecked.
(“Hey! You’re still you! Don’t ever forget that!”) He’s unconvinced, I can 
tell. (“Look, whoever you
think you are, you’re Ash to me, and that’s what counts, right?”)
“….But what if I become someone else….” Utter desolation, that’s all I can 
see.
(“Come on! If you stop believing in yourself, you’ll be someone else. But 
Ash is not a quitter, never in
a million years.”) I draw him to me with my vines, and reach up to look at 
him face to face. (“And as
long as you hold onto that you’re my Ash, no matter how you look, how you 
sound, or what you
think.”) I can see the clouds clear in his mind, and he returns my stare 
with fresh vigour.
“You know, you’re a godsend Chikorita. I’m sorry at going off at you for 
reading my diary.” He picks
me up, cradling me tenderly as a newborn child.
(“I’m sorry I read it. But at least I can help you.”) He chuckles ruefully, 
ignoring the looks of passers
by who have just seen him deep in conversation with me and look puzzled.
“Was it Elton John who said “Sorry seems to be the hardest word?”” I snuggle 
deeper into his arms,
enjoying the comfort of his clutches.
(“Yes, but when said with an honest tongue it’s one of the sweetest words 
that can pass someone’s
lips.”) I reply with feeling, and can almost feel his smile warming the top 
of my head.
“I didn’t know you could be so poetic!” He whispers, fingers roaming over my 
leaf.
(“ I could say exactly the same.”) I sigh.
“You don’t know me all that well then, do you?” Again, that tone in his 
voice which illustrates its
speaking with smiling eyes.
(“Surprise me.”) I don’t expect anything much, but surprise me he does.
“Okay then, how’s about this?” He clears his throat, and begins speaking in 
a slow, melodious voice, a
voice I have never heard him use before. Each note is as clear as a cut 
diamond, as sweet as birdsong,
passionate as a valentine, and I can feel my eyes close as I slip into the 
beguiling rhythm, relaxing as a
lullaby, enhanced by his gentle metronomic swaying in time with the words.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” For a moment I leave my 
eyes closed, before letting the
world filter back into them gradually.
(“That was amazing, simply amazing.”) I look up at him, to see him looking 
distantly to the horizon,
caught up in his own spell. Slowly, as I imagine happened to me, his 
consciousness filters back, and he
looks down at me with a broad smile.
“I wish I could lay claim to that, but it was written by William 
Shakespeare, it’s his 18th Sonnet. One of
my favourites, and seems very apt for someone who happens to be in my arms 
about now.” His face
clouds over again, and he pauses before continuing. “I was going to say it 
to Misty, but until I can find
out what is wrong with me, and find a solution, I can’t. It would destroy 
her if something happened to
me after we’d got together, and it would do the same to myself too.” I can 
see the logic, but something
isn’t quite right.
(“You know, if she loves you which I’m sure she does, no I know she does, 
she’ll stay with you
whatever happens.”) His shaking head cuts me off.
“You still don’t quite understand Chikorita. People don’t have an open mind 
to the unknown, they see
it as a threat. If something weird happens to me, she’d run a mile before 
stopping and thinking of what
was actually going on. And it’s always been that way.” I still find this 
hard to believe, but he seems so
definite that I can’t disagree. “Uh, Chikorita?” He sounds different now, 
pensive.
(“Yeah?”)
“When we get back to the centre, could we try something?” I want to question 
him, but a glance to the
shop from which Pikachu and a pissed off Misty with ridiculously skewed hair 
are emerging is enough
for me to just nod.
(“Piii-kaaah-chooooo!”) A shot of static erupts around Pikachu as she 
sneezes, and Misty throws her
hands up in annoyance.
“You dumb rodent! You got us thrown out!” Pikachu sneezes again, sending 
another blast of static into
the area.
(“It’s not my fault I’m hyper sensitive to sprays!”) I can feel myself 
giggling as I ask the classic
question.
(“What the hell happened to you two?”)
(“After a few minutes some stupid woman decided to demonstrate the new scent 
of the season on me.
ME! It went straight up my nose, and…”) Pikachu burst indignantly.
“Started off a sneezing fit, which caused you to give out masses of static 
yes?” Ash is smiling widely,
he can see where this is going too.
“Yeah! The first two waves caused everyone’s hair to stand on end, and then 
every metal aerosol and
make-up box flew towards her! She tried to run out of the store with them 
still stuck to her, and we
nearly got arrested for shoplifting!” Misty is real pissed, and her hair 
standing on end doesn’t help with
the image.
“You could always say you’re going to see Iron Maiden…” Ash cracks, and 
before she can reply we’re
rolling on the floor, clutching our sides with laughter.
“You’ll pay for that one, Ash Ketchum.” She growls, before pulling out a 
comb from a pocket in her
grey slacks. Unfortunately her hair isn’t listening to its orders, the only 
way to define it would be
spring-loaded. Pikachu is in the same boat, she resembles the fluffy doll we 
saw earlier, bar the
expression of disgruntlement.
“Here, try this.” Ash pulls his cap off, and places it squarely on her head. 
We step back, and admire his
handiwork. With the hat snug on her head, some red hair flowing out of it, 
she at least looks
presentable. Needless to say though, she isn’t impressed.
“Ash, I look like a scruffbag! Plus it’ll take a week to get the tangles out 
of my hair!” The problem of
tangles is solved quite rapidly.
(“Pi-kaa-aaah-aaaaaah-CHOOOOOO!!”) In an instant, the world goes black. 
Light slowly filters in as a
hysterical Ash lifts his cap off my head where it had landed, letting in the 
view of a dazed Pikachu and
an incandescent red-head whose hair is now skewed in a perfect ring around 
her face, making it look
like the sun is setting behind her. The pieces slowly fit together. Misty 
with lots of hair cramped under
a cap + a high charge of static + laws of physics = Hair expansion = Cap 
blown off +…..laughter. The
first gales of insane giggling hit me at about the same time it hits Ash, 
with the result of the two of us
collapsing to the floor for the second time in as many minutes.
“Okay, how do you like it?!” Misty scoops Pikachu up, and gently tosses her 
into Ash’s lap as he’s
getting over the latest bout of hysterics, which has the same sobering 
effect on him as a final demand
from a loan shark. As Pikachu inhales again I can see his eyes swell with 
apprehension, and a few of
the words he’s spoken come back to me.
*It’s not just smells, any strong Pokemon using its technique, like Pikachus 
electricity or the poison of
a Weezing can trigger it if it hits me….*
(“Pi-kaaah-choooo!”) I shudder as the static blast runs through me, but 
shrug it off as I put Pikachu
down and retract the vines I’d used to pull her off Ash and over to me 
moments earlier. I see the relief
wash into his face, and know it was worth it.
“Hey, all I wanted was to see his hair stand on end!” Misty glares down at 
me, but I return it.
(“Don’t you think you’re being a little petty?”) I reply calmly, shuffling 
over towards Ash.
“It was a bit of fun!” Her aqua eyes track me, her focus intense.
(“Pika-chuuuuu!”) The focus fades out and she slumps to the floor as 
Pikachus intentional shock leaves
her smoking again. (“I don’t appreciate being used like a beachball 
either!”) She huffs indignantly,
before looking through Ashs backpack for a tissue as he still sits on the 
pavement. I look up into his
face, and he winks down at me in thanks. I get the feeling all is forgiven.
“Okay, what is this, let’s all hack Misty day?” She slowly pulls herself to 
her feet, dusting off her
slacks and trying to ignore the tittering of a few teenage girls stood 
watching on the street corner. A
futile attempt. “And don’t you Rattatas have somewhere more important to be? 
If not then I’m sure I
could find somewhere, like pain central, Johto?” The three of them turn red 
as hot coals, and begin
making their not-so-nonchalant way towards us. Great going Misty. They look 
about the same age as
her, two maybe a little younger but nevertheless equally angry.
“You got a problem with us?” The one with shoulder length brown hair sneers, 
casting an eye over
Misty. Sure Misty looks scrawny, but I’ve no doubt she could mop the floor 
with these three without
breaking sweat.
“Yeah, you know it’s bad manners to laugh at someone you don’t even know?” 
She glowers back. Just
then the middle one steps forwards, and everything from her ridiculously 
flashy shoes to her overdone
highlights screams out one word – attitude. As in problem.
“Judgin’ by the way your hair is stickin’ out it looks like it don’t want 
nothin’ to do with you, an’ I
don’ say I blame it.” The smug look on her face is erased by the blur that 
is Misty’s fist, and she
careers into the shop window before slumping to the floor, eyes spinning and 
hands clutching her jaw.
“Maybe I should just slap your face right off, it’s probably ashamed you’re 
wearing it.” I don’t think
those girls have ever met someone like this, someone who uses fierce pride 
and clenched fists rather
than nails and snide remarks.
“Hey! You don’t do that to one of us and get away with it!” The third girl, 
undoubtedly the eldest of
the group with ridiculous hair and ego to match, steps forwards. She looks a 
bit older than Misty,
perhaps seventeen, but she doesn’t have the brains of Psyduck.
“Looks like I have, unless you plan to change that.” She puts her hands on 
her hips and smiles sweetly
back at her.
“Yeah I have so it happens, ya scrawny brat.” Oh. Dear.
“Pardon?” Misty leans closer, her smile even brighter.
“I said yeah, ya scrawny…” It’s hard to continue speaking when your jaw is 
held in someone’s hand,
with a grip comparable to a Totodiles jaws.
“Okay Misty, I think you made your point.” Ash raises himself to his feet, 
and places a hand on her
shoulder. She glances at him briefly before reluctantly letting go of the 
girl and stepping back.
“OhmyGOD! It can’t be…” The first girl is having palpitations, by the looks 
of it.
“Pikachu, Chikorita, red head accompanying him….” The oldest of the group 
reads through a mental
checklist.
“Devilishly handsome, muscular, black hair with red cap….It’s…” The smarmy 
one adds, getting to
her feet.
“…ASH KETCHUM!” The three of them instantly surround him, almost visibly 
drooling.
“Uh, hi…” He looks over at me and Misty, with an obvious pleading look. He’s 
never been good at
telling people he doesn’t know to just, well, get lost.
“Okay, he’s taken!” Misty steps in, and grabs him by the arm.
(“Yeah, give it a rest!”) They just shoot me a confused look, but get the 
picture when my vine wraps
around his other arm and pulls him over.
(“C’mon, just buzz off somewhere would ya?”) Pikachu puts in, finally over 
her sneezing fit.
“Taken?”
“By you?!”
“Don’t make me laugh! He probably feels sorry for you, you’re just a no-name 
valley girl!” Before I
can react, Ash spins around in response to their calls, fury etched into 
every curve of his face.
“If you haven’t noticed, I call her Misty, as that’s her name. But I don’t 
see anyone calling you, least of
all me. Co-incidence? Maybe it’s you I should feel sorry for.” With that, 
we’re around the corner, and
judging by the lack of retorts, out of their league.
“Thanks Ash, I probably would’ve put one of them through the wall.” Misty 
smiles, taking the comb
back out in another attempt to restore it to some semblance of order, this 
time with a little success.
“It’s not problem, I owe all of you thanks for getting me out of there with 
all my clothes intact.” I can
just see the questions they both want to ask dancing on their lips, just 
begging to be spoken. Questions
about what was said, whether she really meant it when she said he was taken, 
whether he really meant
it when he defended her. But no, as usual the moment passes, and she looks 
at the floor, he at the sky. I
catch Pikachus eye, and we share the traditional look of exasperation. If 
just once one of them had the
guts to try and broach the subject we’d be one big happy family, but nope. 
To coin a phrase, I’m the
king of wishful thinking.
“How’s about some brunch? Maybe a coffee?” Misty breaks the silence, and 
Pikachu and I
wholeheartedly agree. The three of us look as one to Ash, who is unusually 
the last to respond. He
gazes to the clear blue sky for a moment, before smiling.
“Sounds good to me too. That city guide suggested one café in particular, 
and it should be only a few
blocks away.” He drifts off again, and we casually make our way to 
twenty-one Kanto Road, and the
Noctowl Café.



“So, why’d they call it the Noctowl café?” Brock sipped on his mug of 
cappuccino, still trying to find
the actual liquid buried somewhere in the froth, and ran a quick glance 
around the lobby. High-backed
seats either side of tables lined the perimeter of the interior, and 
although the slightly dowdy pale
brown décor added a tone of shabbiness it was all the more relaxing.
“Because it’s awake all night.” Tracey replied, blowing on his mocha. “A 
popular place for insomniacs
and night owls alike, it also has things like blues bands on and is the most 
highly rated and safe café in
the town. It’s pretty cheap too, considering the overall highbrow nature of 
a lot of the shops.” Brock
shook his head, an incredulous smile pinching at his mouth.
“Trace, you’ve been here what, a few days? And you already sound like a tour 
guide.” Tracey grinned
back in response, slowly stirring a sachet of brown sugar into his steaming 
cup.
“First rule of travelling for me, know your destination. Helps you blend in 
and you don’t get caught by
surprise. I was sent here by Prof. Oak on Wednesday because of reported 
sightings of a legendary
Pokemon, so I’m here looking out for it.” Suzy chuckled quietly, playing 
with a sweetener sachet.
“You know, you’re wasted by drawing for a living.” She ripped it open, and 
poured it into her own
cappuccino.
“How many people can say the think they like to do most is how they make a 
living?” He blew on the
hot liquid, before taking a tentative sip.
“Uh, well I can.” Suzy replied with a grin. “That’s why I’m here, Brock. 
It’s the annual north Johto
breeders convention, and I’ve been invited in as a speaker on grooming, 
treatment and beauty
techniques. Should go on about another few days.”
“If you want any help with massage or beauty, Ash is the man to talk to. 
He’s got massage down to a
fine art, even Snorlax wakes up when he’s treating its back. And you’ll 
never guess what I saw him
doing earlier.” Brock smiled, leaving the question obviously open for 
someone to ask.
“Go on, what was he doing?” Tracey nudged gently.
“At Chikoritas request, making her a pair of pyjamas.” This had the effect 
of making Tracey laugh and
Suzy put in the inevitable ‘Awww, how sweet!’. “No, you should see them 
guys. I’ve never seen
anything like these in a shop. He even got a special pattern, Chicory 
flowers and Ash leaves.” Traceys
grin widened even further.
“My, I didn’t know he’s such a sentimentalist!” Brocks smile dropped again.
“Trace, if you make fun of it in front of him I’ll not only see your feet 
don’t touch the ground, but
swing gently in the breeze while you hang from a noose.” Suzy giggles at the 
sudden defensive tone.
“Easy Brock, he’s just teasing you! He’d never wind up Ash over something so 
personal. Besides, I
think it’s really cute! So, you’re still going around with those two?” She 
asked easily.
“Yep, I’m still not quite ready to settle down. I’m a free spirit see!” 
*Although at the moment it’s more
for their good than mine…*
“But your “free spirit” is being choked a little by them, yes?” Brock looked 
over at Tracey, who just
returned the glance with a raised eyebrow.
“You really are wasted by being an artist, you know that?” Tracey just 
grinned at the comment.
“So what’s the problem, last time we met you were happy as a Muk in a 
swamp.” Suzy put in.
“Yeah, and it’s been fine until recently. Ash has been acting strangely. 
He’s become shy and secretive,
but his intelligence and physical abilities have gone through the roof. He’s 
started staring into
campfires for hours, keeps a journal and doesn’t seem interested in 
battling. Now tell me how much
more different he could be from who you know as Ash Ketchum.” Traceys face 
clearly displayed that
the pieces of the mental jigsaw which was his memory Ash didn’t fit with 
these new pieces.
“Odd.” He cupped his chin in his hands, and stared vacantly into space. “How 
long has this gone on?”
“About six months or so.”
“The league final!” Suzy snapped, clicking her fingers. “It must have been 
because of that Marino
woman, maybe he’s been shaken up by it….” The shaking heads of her two 
companions cut her off.
“No, that’s just not right. It can’t be that.” Tracey mused.
“When he’s gone down to someone or been shocked by something, he takes it on 
the chin, drags
himself back up and dusts himself off, ready for the next challenge or to go 
back and finish the job.”
Brock thought aloud, left hand toying with a loose strand of brown hair.
“What she did was reprehensible, but Ash wouldn’t change this much or so 
rapidly over one small
incident.” Tracey drained the rest of his mug and eased back into the chair.
“The thing is, this is unsettling me and Pikachu big time. What it’s doing 
to Misty you can probably
work out yourselves.” Suzy and Tracey nodded, having witnessed first hand 
what could happen with an
over-stressed Misty, often stretching to nuclear proportions.
“So Brock, what you’re asking is that while we hang out for the next few 
days, I keep an eye on them
and maybe try and pin it down?” Brock inclined his head just once.
“I don’t want to pressurise him, he’s already worried by something. But Ash 
is, and always has been a
potential time bomb. He’s very good as hiding and storing things, but one 
day it’ll get too much and all
hell could break loose with him. He’s a bit like a dam, he takes it all and 
lets it out slowly and
controlled, but massive emotion could cause it to collapse.” Brock took a 
short breath, before finishing
his own drink. “Chikorita knows something too, so keep an eye on her. I’ll  
keep an eye on them too,
and maybe between us we can work out what the hell is going on.” Tracey 
pondered it for a moment,
before agreeing.
“So, enough of this council of war, what’s your plans for tonight Brock?” 
Suzy turned to him and gave
him a wink. “Fancy catching up a little on more old times?” Brock stunned 
himself by managing to
avoid drooling like an idiot, instead smiling and nodding in agreement.
“That’d be great. How’s about here today, four-thirty?”
“Sure!” She slid off the seat beside him, and slowly stood up. “So for now, 
I guess it’s adios!” She
glided over to the door, turning and looking back as she placed a hand on 
the handle. “Don’t be late!”
The door opened, and she was gone.
“Brock? Wakey-wakey!” Tracey brought him back to the land of the living with 
a click of his fingers
in front of his face.
“Huh?” Just then the door swung open again, ushering in four familiar faces 
currently engaged in a
rather verbose discussion.
“Yeah, I’m sure it was Suzy!” Ash growled, heading for the counter.
“Really sure? This coming from the guy who used is Pokedex every time he ran 
into a Pokemon for
three years?” Mistys snide rejoinder caused the few in the café to look on 
in interest.
“Yeah, well look where it got me! And when was the last time you saw me use 
a Pokedex?” Ash
snapped back.
“Uh…”
(“Hey look, There’s Brock!”) Chikorita called, scuttling over to the table 
before leaping up onto the
chair beside him.
“And…Tracey?” Misty gaped, before following Chikorita over.
“Well, I guess we’ll get the drinks will we?” Ash grumbled, irate.
(“No, you’ll get the drinks.”) Pikachu corrected, hopping down from his 
shoulder.
“Ahh, I’ll remember this, you furball.” He muttered, before turning to the 
waitress to order.
“Hey Trace, long time no see. Must be a while now since we last ran into 
each other.” Brock threw a
glance to Tracey as if to say “watch Ash” before replying for him.
“Yeah, he’s out here for a while by request of Professor Oak. Apparently 
there’s been sightings of a
legendary Pokemon in this area.” With that, Tracey noted, Ash did the 
posture equivalent of pricking
his ears. His body stiffened slightly, his arm left his hip and he tilted 
his head to hear better. *Maybe
his normal instinct for hearing of a legendary Pokemon, but at the same time 
he’s trying to hide the fact
he’s listening. Hmmmm. Maybe I should join in.*
“Yeah, I’ve heard that it’s a flying Pokemon, and some think it may be 
Moltres. They’ve certainly seen
flashes of red.” *He’s more than listening now, he’s straining to pick 
everything up.* “But I don’t think
so, as All reports suggest Moltres is still in the Shamouti region. Some 
think it could be a very large
and well-developed Charizard, or a uniquely coloured Dragonite or something 
big like that. But I’m
here to try and find this out.” *His ears have virtually turned red now!* 
Ash picked up the drinks and
walked nonchalantly over to our table, and set them down again.
“So Ash, you thinking of going to look for this seemingly legendary Pokemon 
seen around here?”
Tracey asked, noting the slightly flustered look appearing on his face.
“Uh, I guess I might. So, was that Suzy that just walked out of here Brock?” 
He questioned, turning to
face the older man.
“Yeah, she’s here for a breeders conference.” He replied. *Not too keen on 
searching for a legendary
Pokemon, AND changing the subject away from Pokemon? Looks like we’ve hit 
pretty close to the
mark already.* “And speaking of her, I’ve gotta be off. It’s only a few 
hours before we meet up for the
evening.” Mistys mouth dropped open so wide it could have been used to 
garage Concorde, with ample
space for refuelling.
“Brock, on a DATE?!” She murmured in the same tone often found by those who 
have just seen their
sixth number roll down the lottery shoot, or Superman flash past into a 
phone box and emerge putting
on his glasses.
“Yeah, and while you’re pinching yourself, do me too just in case.” He 
grinned as he reached the door.
“See you later all! Oh and Tracey, don’t forget to tip the waitress ten 
percent….” The giggles of the
rest of the table bounded around him as he let his head bang onto the table.
“Damn, why do I ALWAYS fall for that? Picking up the bill yet again….”



We get back to the centre, and he seems fairly happy. Seems. Traceys 
appearance has shaken him,
which means he really is hiding something big. He’s scared Tracey has the 
potential to pick up on
whatever it is and work him out. He’s pacing beside me now, look almost 
carefully absent yet genial.
Chikorita is having a conversation with Misty from upon her shoulders, and I 
strain my ears to pick it
up. A human wouldn’t have a chance, but Pikachus make good spies as well as 
fighters.
“….be sure he isn’t?” Misty sounds anxious, negative.
(“Because if he was he’d have given you the money and told you to grow in 
another meadow. He
knows the meaning of the word pity, but doesn’t abuse it.”) Chikorita, 
looking like she’s frustrated by
something.
“It might be just for me, I mean he doesn’t act this way to anyone else…” 
Well, look who’s let the
twittering of some dopey tart get in her head. Why does Misty need constant 
reassurance that Ash has
something for her?
(“God damn it Misty!”) Chikorita somehow manages to scream in a whisper. 
(“You’re that insecure?
Remember last time in Kanto he lost the title, and who did he turn to for 
commiseration? You! When
he needed someone’s shoulder to lean on when Deliah became ill, whose did he 
lean on? Yours! That
time we all went out for your sixteenth, and Team Rocket crashed the place, 
who did he bust a gut to
recover? You!”) She shakes her head, leaf rippling with the movement. (“And 
you still need to ask
that?”)
“….I suppose you’re right. But every time I get doubts.” Misty looks 
thankful we’ve reached our room,
perhaps she wants to speak with Brock, or me, or just louder. But as Ash 
wordlessly continues to the
room next door, I can see the single wistful glance to him which says all 
which needs to be said.
(“I’m going into Ashs now, so I’ll see you this evening.”) Chikorita bades 
us goodbye, trots up the
corridor to the still ajar door, and walks in before it shuts with a 
definite click.
“Hey Brock, where you to?” Misty calls, seeing the bedroom empty, green 
bedsheets untouched.
“In here!” A slightly muffled reply finds its way through from the bathroom.
“Getting’ yourself tarted up lover boy?” She replies, throwing herself down 
on the sofa-bed and
flicking the television on.
“Yep, its not every day you run into an old flame and find the fire still 
burns bright.” He calls, and I can
hear an electric razor hum in the background.
(“Hey, even shaving specially! My, normally it takes a weeks bum fluff 
before you go about that taking
operation.”) I can picture the wry smile he’s wearing right now.
“Yeah, especially because I have to use the electric one. SOMEONE pinched my 
wet one, didn’t they
Misty?” She sniggers from the sofa in response.
“Hey Romeo, you ever tried taking off underarm hair with an electric razor? 
I would hope not, but let
me tell you it doesn’t work.” Chuckling, I walk over to the bathroom door 
and knock.
“It’s open!” I jump up and depress the handle in a well practised manoeuvre, 
and go in.
(“Brock, your request was fulfilled to the letter. Ash was a study in 
attentiveness for Misty, like you
asked him to be.”) He smiles the best he can without missing some of the 
stubble on his cheek.
“Heh, good.” He slides the shaver around to his chin. “Misty needed that, 
she thinks he never notices
her if he doesn’t talk to her every few minutes. She has got a few problems 
when it comes to him,
maybe she’s over possessive.” I scratch my ear in idle thought.
(“Did we have to ask him to go out of his way to make her happy? I think he 
would’ve been fine either
way, now it seems like we’re trying to get them together.”) The puzzlement 
in my voice makes him
frown.
“That’s part of the idea. It’d be a damn waste to let them drift off. But 
Misty has her pride, and Ashs
attention span on most things now is the length of a snapped matchstick.” He 
shakes his head, razor
moving to his throat. “If we interfere too much it could screw it all up, 
but the same will happen if we
ignore it.” I sigh, sagging back on my haunches.
(“Why do we always get stuck in this crap?”) He smiles again, shutting off 
his razor.
“Because we care. Now, I’ve got a hot date to attend, so if you’ll excuse 
me….”



I can feel my blood pressure peak and fall simultaneously. They asked him to 
pay attention to me?
Then maybe he was lying, they were all lying. I’m gonna get hold of 
Chikorita and wring it out of her,
that’s for sure. But even as I feel the anger burning realisation washes 
over me putting it out, and I sag
back from where I was listening against the bathroom wall to one of the 
beds. I don’t know what to
think now, I don’t want to think. All I know is that it just may be all the 
positive feelings I received
today were false….and it’s going to start all over again. My mind flits 
back, back more than six years,
and the insecurities, fears, inadequacies filter into my heart, where they’d 
lain dormant for the whole of
my teenage life. Maybe I should stop running away, turn and defeat these 
shadowy sprites which taunt
every time I’m weak or scared, but it takes more than I have now. Fears 
grow, doubts multiply. I have
to get out of here, get Ash, and find what he really thinks. Then maybe, 
just maybe I can think of
myself as a worthwhile person again. Without any conscious thought, my pale 
hand is opening the
door, and my thin legs are carrying me the few paces to the room next door. 
My knuckles stop bare
millimetres from the door, something compels me to listen. I press my ear to 
the door, a pang of guilt
erased by suspicion and a desperate need to know, know if I’m worth 
something, anything. I can hear
conversation from inside, and strain harder to try and pick it up….



“Yeah, not much more to do. Just that leg, then the trim and final 
touches….” I put the pyjamas back
down on the bed, and take in her pensive look. I remember why, she’s 
wondering what it is I want her
to do for me. Well, now she’ll find out. “Chikorita, what I’d like you to do 
is come and sit on my lap,
just for a moment, so I can explain this to you properly. Come on, don’t be 
shy.” I sink down onto the
green bedspread, and after a meek look from her red eyes her leaf twitches 
in response and she climbs
on.
(“So, what can I do for you?”) She smiles, but I can see a current of 
nervousness beneath it.
“Shh, calm down. There’s no need for you to worry.” The fact there’s plenty 
of need for me to I decide
not to tell her. “Now, all I’d like you to do is, when I ask, give me your 
best sweet scent, for as long as
possible. I want to see what happens…..to me. And something will happen, 
what I don’t know. There’s
no-one else to see me, and I want to, no, need to know. Then if there are 
any effects I can wait it out in
here. So, would you let me give it a try?” I can see another stream of doubt 
flow through her. She
hopes that this could do nothing, but deep down too knows something is going 
to happen.
(“I-I’m scared Ash….”) She nuzzles into my stomach, and I hug her in 
response.
“So am I, but it’s better to know than to hope, don’t you think?” She looks 
up at me with hazy eyes and
swallows deeply, but nods. She can almost feel my fear radiating from my 
hands, but straightens up
and takes a deep breath. I give the four blank walls, only ordained by a 
solitary window ajar to my left
and the door to my right a brief glance, and close my eyes.
(“Just don’t forget, please, you’re you no matter how you appear….”) She 
takes a final deep breath,
and concentrates. A thick mist flows out of her leaf, and envelops me. I 
inhale slowly and regularly,
and wait. Nothing seems to be happening. Nothing at all….sudden as 
lightning, my head begins to spin
and I can feel my mind seeping into hysteria. The world flies out of focus; 
indistinct as shadows in the
dusk, and I can feel my body slowly, agonisingly changing. First with my 
chest, changing as it has
before. Then, my arms, my arms are growing long, and they suddenly look as 
if they’re on fire, my
chest is turning bright red, my body and shoulders are….aflame, my feet 
turning claw-like and my legs
burning brightly, yet with a holy fire, a magical fire which doesn’t scorch 
me, soothing as balm. I
barely hear Chikorita squeak in shock and hurl herself under the bed, or 
smell the scorch of burning
clothes as I let out an inhuman cry, from somewhere deep within. Now 
this….change is nearing
completion, I just know it, and the world is oh so briefly wonderful, sight 
sharp as cut glass, hearing
delicate as butterfly wings. I can almost feel life flowing around me, 
thoughts and dreams palpable as
skin. But her scent has gone, wafting through the window, and slowly, slowly 
my human senses are
returning, the flames dying away, sight and sound gently easing ghost-like 
back into my body. I close
my eyes, and sink backwards onto the bed, just waiting and praying for the 
ordeal to end. I can still feel
snatches of how it was to be….whatever I became for that briefest second, 
and now it taunts me as the
awful, awful feeling I always felt during those brief changes piles into me 
with a vengeance. It’s like
sea, air and stomach sickness intertwined into almost exquisite agony, so 
painful and nauseous that it
almost seems euphoric. Chikorita pokes her head out from under the bed at 
about the same time as
another tidal wave of nausea overtakes me, and sprints out of the way as I 
throw my head over the edge
of the bed and retch. Mistys voice shouting my name from behind the door 
permeates my
consciousness, and I finally open my eyes to tiny slits, taking in 
Chikoritas fearful face and the smoke
hanging heavily in the air.
(“Ash….look at your arms….”) She gasps, and I cast a look along them, at 
which my eyes slam open to
their full width. My arms are their normal length, yes, but they’re a 
glorious red, and they are bedecked
with rows of beautiful red, white and black feathers. As I watch, a few fall 
off, and settle on the bed,
incongruous among the ashes which litter it. My chest is a downy red and 
white…. But quite beautiful.
The shock pours icy water into my veins as the nausea returns, punctuated by 
hammering from the door
and Misty calling me from outside. I lay down flat on my back, and try to 
keep my thoughts and
emotions from erupting in an uncontrolled torrent while attempting to make 
some semblance of sense
from what had just come to pass. I can feel something crawling up my 
stomach, and look down to see
Chikorita in a petrified stupor just staring at me out of wide, rabbit-like 
eyes.
(“You were sheathed in flame, and then you screamed…I thought I was never 
going to see you again
that I’d killed you….”) She moaned, shaking wildly, eyes streaming with 
panicked tears. (“I thought
I’d lost you….lost you….lost you forever…..”) I push through the shock 
enough to reach out and pull
her shivering form to me, and let her shed her tears into my arms.
“I don’t know what’s happened to me, but I’m scared too. I don’t know if I 
can ever be the same, or
what I might become…” She stops her silent screams for just long enough to 
put her legs around me,
letting me hug her like a doll.
(“But you’re still here, with me…and I don’t ever want it another way…”) She 
gasped, before
becoming embroiled in another bout of shaking, shaking I understand and felt 
keenly as ever. Who, or
what am I? And what could I become? The hammering on the door now slams into 
my skull migraine-
like, added to by a female voice calling me, but knowledge and understanding 
are chained away and I
draw myself into a foetal position clutching Chikorita yet more tightly, an 
almost primal fear creating a
cocoon to crawl into. Gradually the knocking becomes more indistinct to my 
ears, the voice now joined
by others growing vague, and darkness seeps, seeps like blood beneath a 
locked door into my
consciousness, gradually wrapping me in a velvet blanket which I gratefully 
sink into, sink until I
almost drown, and it carries me into the shadows. To where, I don’t know….



Hmmm, a bit of a cliffhanger there, sorry about that.
Hope you enjoyed, and don’t forget to review!
C’ya soon with chapter IV
Dan.