The Viridian Forest was a little quieter now—whether it was the aftermath of Misty's aquatic artillery barrage or the forest creatures learning to steer clear of those three, it wasn't clear. The golden rays of the sun filtered down through the trees, shimmering off the leaves as the group walked onward, slowly making their way down the winding dirt path.
Ash, with all the grace of a toddler who had found a new toy, was letting Caterpie crawl up his arm with a massive grin on his face.
"Look at him go, Pikachu! He's so slimy and squishy and weird! Isn't he cool?" Ash chirped with glee.
Pikachu, perched on a rock like a tired sensei from a kung fu movie, spared a single glance at the wiggly Caterpie and looked away in disinterest. Weak mob, he muttered internally. He has no standards.
Misty trailed behind them with her arms crossed, wearing a sleek, full-sleeved light blue jacket and form-fitting jeans that shimmered faintly from the embedded cooling tech—technology she definitely didn't bring for fashion, but survival. If a Weedle so much as looked at her again, she'd be ready to flee without melting in the summer heat.
Her disgusted glare locked on Caterpie, who had just squelched up Ash's face and was now lovingly rubbing its antenna against his nose.
"It's so gross," she said flatly, her voice heavy with trauma. "Ash, put that slimy thing back in the Poké Ball! Bugs are one of the three most disgusting things in the world!"
Ash grinned, giving her the kind of smile only someone entirely devoid of self-preservation instincts could muster. "Aside from you, what are the other disgusting things?"
Pikachu slowly turned to Ash with wide eyes. He's going to die.
Misty's eyebrow twitched like a stick of dynamite with a short fuse. She held her hands behind her back to stop them from becoming fists of justice.
"Very funny," she said through gritted teeth. "Carrots, peppers, and bugs. Everybody has something they don't like. I don't like bugs."
Ash stuck out his tongue, pulled his eyelids down and went full five-year-old gremlin. "Yeah? Well I like carrots, and peppers, and bugs."
Misty rubbed her temple and sighed like she'd aged a decade. There were times she wondered if this was some kind of divine punishment. Maybe she'd accidentally stepped on a Celebi in a past life.
Still, deep down, something stopped her from launching another Vaporeon-powered retaliation. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was because she saw something in Ash, buried under layers of chaos and Caterpie juice. A spark. A drive. Or maybe, she thought, she was just too tired to commit another act of violence before dinner.
She studied the boy more seriously now, ignoring his antics as Caterpie slid halfway down his back and tried to climb up again. Ash clearly had a genuine affection for Pokémon, but affection alone didn't make a trainer. Guts? Sure. Bravery? Definitely. Common sense? …well, that was pending review.
You really don't get it yet, do you, Ash Ketchum… she thought. You're walking around like an overexcited Pidgey with no clue that you're carrying a legacy heavier than a Snorlax on a hot day.
Because the world did know his father. Silas Ketchum. A name spoken with awe in battle circles. The man had conquered gyms across Kanto, swept aside trainers like dust in the wind, and challenged the Elite Four with raw, blazing talent. He had come this close to becoming the Champion.
And yet… Ash?
Ash, who was now singing a song about Caterpie and letting it crawl on his head like it was a fashion statement?
She squinted. "Are you really his son?"
Ash blinked. "Huh? What?"
"Nothing," Misty sighed again. "Just thinking."
"About how cool Caterpie is?" Ash said, with a grin so innocent it was borderline criminal.
Misty looked away, muttering something about divine patience and bug-repellent dreams.
---------------------------
Ash gently cradled the Pokéball containing Caterpie, his eyes reflecting something deeper than just excitement. Misty might've thought he was all jokes and chaos, but inside… Ash knew exactly why he was on this journey.
His fingers tightened slightly around the Pokéball.
He knew about his father. Silas Ketchum, the storm-chasing legend, the man who had once battled Agatha to a near draw and claimed it as a learning experience. A master in every sense of the word.
And a ghost in his own home.
Ash had grown up with stories and silence, watching the door, waiting for half-visits and hollow promises wrapped in presents from faraway regions. He loved his dad—he really did—but sometimes… he just wished Silas would stop disappearing like a Haunter with commitment issues.
Being a Pokémon Master wasn't just a dream. It was his bridge. Maybe, if he became someone big enough, important enough—his dad wouldn't be chasing glory alone anymore. Maybe they'd stand together, finally, as equals. Maybe his dad would look at him and say, "Well done, kid. You made it."
Ash looked at the Pokéball with fondness.
"I don't see a weak Caterpie," he muttered, half to himself, half to Pikachu who peeked over his shoulder lazily. "I see a majestic Butterfree."
Pikachu blinked. Okay, philosopher-kid mode unlocked. That was unexpectedly deep. Respect.
Ash turned to Misty, who had her arms crossed and was eyeing every leaf as if it might contain an ambushing bug.
"I thought girls liked butterflies," Ash said innocently. Then, with the boldness of someone who had clearly used up all his luck today, he almost added: "Are you sure you're even a—"
He stopped.
Even he could feel the tsunami of death energy rising from Misty's aura like steam from a boiling Gyarados. One more syllable, and there would be no Ash left—just a crater and a smoking pair of shoes.
Misty's sigh came out long and tired. "I like butterflies. I even have a few back home in Cerulean. That doesn't mean I like worms."
Ash rolled his eyes. "You are so shallow."
That hit a nerve.
Misty flinched, just a little. For a moment, she wasn't the tough, annoyed travel companion—she was just a girl remembering her sisters' mocking voices. How they called her immature, weird, the tomboy of the group. The one who liked "gross water things" and didn't know how to act "proper."
She looked away, trying to hold on to her pride, but the words stung more than she wanted to admit.
Ash, oblivious to the minor emotional hurricane he had unintentionally caused, was suddenly pointing excitedly toward a bush.
"Look! A Pidgeotto!" he whispered loudly, which somehow defeated the point of whispering.
Sure enough, a tan bird was nibbling on a cluster of berries with the kind of peace that comes right before a child with a dream throws chaos at it.
Ash grinned. "Caterpie, let's go! Time to show Misty what you can do!"
Pikachu raised an eyebrow. Bro. Really? A level 5 bug versus a flying-type bird? Do you even Pokédex?
Misty, already fed up with the idea of watching a worm chase a bird, sighed. "Ash, maybe let Pikachu handle this one?"
Ash ignored her. "Caterpie! Use String Shot!"
From the Pokéball came a flash of red light, and the tiny worm popped out with all the enthusiasm of a newborn soldier. Its large eyes locked on the Pidgeotto, who stopped mid-peck and gave Caterpie a long, unimpressed blink.
Then it turned back to the berries.
"Oh no you don't! String Shot!"
Caterpie, bless its tiny heart, opened its mandibles and phwip!—a thin strand of sticky silk zipped through the air and stuck the Pidgeotto right on the wing.
Pidgeotto flapped once.
Twice.
The strand snapped.
Pidgeotto gave them a look that very clearly said, Is this a prank show?
Ash pumped a fist. "Yes! Direct hit! Let's go!"
Misty groaned. "It's a bird. You hit it with string. It probably thinks it flew through a spiderweb."
Still, Caterpie didn't back down. It shuffled forward, eyes determined, ready to prove itself—even if it died trying.
Ash beamed. "That's it, Caterpie! Show 'em your heart!"
Pidgeotto sighed.
And then pecked Caterpie on the head.
The worm tumbled back dramatically, stars dancing around its tiny face as Ash ran to its side.
Misty facepalmed. Pikachu let out a deep sigh and considered evolving into Raichu out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.
Ash scooped up Caterpie. "You did great, buddy. You're awesome."
Caterpie gave a tiny "reeee" of appreciation, clearly too concussed to argue.
Misty shook her head. "You're ridiculous."
Ash looked up, smiling. "Yeah. But at least I see potential."
The moment was tense—Misty's eyes flared with the fury of a thousand Cerulean tsunamis, and Ash stood there like a poor kid trying to argue with a thunderstorm using a wet napkin.
"You're the worst!" Misty shrieked, hands flailing in the air. "You have no idea what you're doing! It'll be a long time before you're a Pokémon Master—like, a million years!"
Ash groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm trying to—"
"You should try to learn something about Pokémon first!" she cut in, jabbing a finger in his face like she was trying to press the knowledge into his brain through sheer force. "With Pokémon, you've got to use strategy! Pidgeotto is a bird! Caterpie is a worm! Birds eat worms, Mr. Pokémon Master!"
Ash blinked, looked down at Caterpie, then back up at Misty. "Well, if you just try hard enough… things will work out. Won't they?"
Misty's eye twitched. "No, Ash," she said with the slow, patronizing tone of someone explaining gravity to a brick. "Things won't just magically work out if you try hard enough. The Pokémon trainer's judgment is more important than anything else! And unfortunately for you… the trainer has to have a brain."
Ash winced like he'd just been hit with a Confuse Ray and a Burn status at once.
Meanwhile, off to the side—completely done with the melodrama—Pikachu had waddled forward, tail sparking ever so slightly with disapproval.
Pidgeotto, still pecking at berries and pretending not to notice the chaos, made the mistake of looking up and locking eyes with Pikachu.
That was its last mistake.
ZZZZZZZZZAAAAP!
A bolt of yellow lightning erupted like divine punishment from the sky. Pidgeotto gave one chirp of "wait, what—" before it was blasted off the branch, feathers poofing like popcorn. It landed on the ground in a puff of smoke, legs twitching, little spirals in its eyes.
Ash stared. "...Oh."
Misty blinked. "Well, that was... effective."
Ash turned to Pikachu. "You weren't even in the fight!"
Pikachu just crossed his arms, tail still crackling. Somebody had to save Caterpie from becoming lunch.
Ash looked sheepish. "I mean, I was gonna have Caterpie try Tackle next…"
Misty facepalmed. "Yes, because that would've gone well."
From her perch beside a tree, Vaporeon let out a sigh like she'd seen this show before and was still baffled it hadn't been canceled.
Ash picked up the unconscious Pidgeotto. "Well, it's technically fainted now. So... that's a win, right?"
Misty raised an eyebrow. "Pikachu did the work."
Ash grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm the trainer."
Pikachu nodded his head and agreed.
Misty muttered, "If you ever become Champion, I'm going to assume the Elite Four were asleep."
Ash turned to her, completely unfazed. "You know, for someone who calls herself beautiful, you sure nag like my mom."
Misty fumed. "You better be glad I'm wearing a cooling jacket or I would've boiled you alive."
Ash took a step back.
"Fair."
-----------------
As the soft breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, Ash and Misty sat under a wide old tree, camp finally set up. A pot of rice bubbled over a small campfire—burning, again—while Misty inspected her now-clean Vaporeon, giving Ash the occasional side-eye as smoke drifted toward her face.
Pikachu, meanwhile, sat a little ways off, his small yellow body curled up next to a bush. His tail swayed gently with the rhythm of the wind. His cheeks flickered with a light spark every now and then—not from anger or show-off energy, but as if his body just remembered the thrill of the last fight.
He stared down at a small, glowing device attached to a rock near him. He didn't know what it was at first when Naruto gave it to him through the network, but he quickly learned to tap the glowing screen with his tiny paw or sometimes his nose.
Heroes Chat Group - Open
Messages blinked to life.
Naruto (Emperor of Mankind):
You did great, little buddy. But you need to start thinking bigger.
The world isn't something you can face alone—not even for a strong fighter like you.
Ichigo (Hybrid):
You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts alone won't get you far. You need allies. Friends.
Pikachu tilted his head. The word friends stirred something in him. A warm, strange feeling that wasn't thunder.
He tapped the screen clumsily.
Pikachu:
I don't know how to do that...
In the wild, I had to fight to live. To protect my tree, my berries.
I don't know how to help others train.
I only know how to grow stronger so I don't get eaten.
There was a pause. Then Naruto responded.
Naruto:
That strength of yours—it's not bad. It means you've survived.
But now it's time to live, Pikachu.
Help others grow. You'll grow, too.
When someone gets stronger because of you... you'll feel it. Like lightning in your heart.
Pikachu stared at those words.
His little paws gently touched his chest. Lightning in the heart?
Pikachu:
But… I'm just a Pikachu. I'm not a Raiku.
My kind… we're not built to rule or save the world.
Then came a different voice.
Wang Lin (Grand Scholar):
You're not just your kind. You are you. And that means something.
If you help someone—just one—you'll receive your first token.
It opens the Exchange Network. You'll be able to learn new things. Things never seen in your world.
Naruto:
Start with the Caterpie.
Teach it what you know.
You don't need words. Just… show it how to be brave.
Pikachu looked up. Across the fire, Caterpie was inching its way toward a berry that had rolled away. It flinched at a leaf falling from a tree, then jumped and panicked when it saw its reflection in Ash's pan.
Pikachu's ears perked up.
He padded over silently.
The little bug turned and squeaked in fear—but Pikachu didn't spark. He just sat down next to it. His tail curled behind him, and his head tilted, curious.
Pikachu pointed a paw toward the berry. Then nudged it closer with his nose.
"Chu," he said gently.
Caterpie looked at him… then at the berry. Slowly, it began to nibble.