You thought the modifiers were gone. You thought they were banished to the nether. But no.... the modifiers are eternal. They are forever. They are unstoppable. Our seven authors today have constructed a monstrosity. Revel in the madness.
Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
“What are you doing?!” The young schoolgirl grabbed at her hair and shrieked, staring wide-eyed at the smouldering pile of charred feathers that was her Spearow.
“I think the proper question is, what have I done.” Ashton “Ash” Shinigami Ketchum spoke in a deep voice that rumbled like a bass drum. “And I’ve just won.”
If he were wearing glasses, this would have been the moment he slowly raised his free hand to push them back, allowing the sunlight to glint off the lenses and further intimidate his cowering opponent. But he didn’t wear glasses, and it was overcast today, so instead he settled for psychically projecting the image into the girl’s mind. The girl sobbed.
“You didn’t have to almost kill her!” She fell to her knees and gathered the weak, insignificant bird into her arms. “It’s just a battle! What is wrong with you!”
Pikachu shifted his feet and put a hand behind his head. “Pika?” His squeak deep and imposing, like a clap of thunder, which made the girl jump and shriek again.
Ash admired the perfect specimen before him: years of arduous training had finally paid off in the form of rippling pectorals, bulging biceps, a chiseled chin, and the largest Pikachu ever recorded. He was nearly as tall as Ash himself now, a modest seven feet. One day, he would surpass even his master.
He looked back at the foolish, naive girl. “Well, actually,” Ash rumbled with a haughty smirk, “this is what Pokémon should be. It’s realistic, you see. Pokémon ought to be dying left and right for this world to be believable. In fact, I should have had Pikachu incinerate your pathetic little pet right here, but I suppose I will show restraint. For now.”
The girl stared for a second. “What are you TALKING about?” she screamed.
“I wouldn’t expect a weakling like yourself to understand.” Ash bowed his head, his cap casting his face in shadow. Then he turned away and faced the path ahead, the one leading to his destiny.
“Come, Pikachu. Let us incinerate all Caterpie and Rattata that dare challenge us.”
“Yes, Father,” Pikachu said in a low, thundering squeak. Then they set off together, destined for glory.
Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
Caterpie crashed into the ground, tumbling across the carpet. Around him, the bodies of his fellow congress members were scattered around the room. It was a horrific sight, and it would be his last.
In front of him, Ash Ketchum was glowing with pure aura energy. And numbers and code and other smart nerd things.
“Ash,” he muttered, “before you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”
Ash scoffed. “Idiot. Simple minded pleb. It’s clear you don’t have your PhD in Trigonometry, because you can’t do simple math. I’m going to need a graveyard for my journey. By my calculations... you're already dead."
"W-What?!"
“Oh Aaaaaaaash!”
Riley skipped into the living room, a plate of cookies in hand. Caterpie to the moment of distraction as an opportunity to flee. Ash groaned.
“Dad! I’m trying to lure the Council of Caterpie into my adobe so I can entrap them in a death trap! You’re ruining the vibe!”
Riley sighed. “Ash, you’re thirty one. You can’t keep committing political assassinations in your old man’s house anymore. You need a real job.”
“I hate you, dad. You’re mean and smelly.”
"Your Pikachu is smellier. He doesn't even shower."
Pikachu huffed. Sure, he didn't shower, but he didn't want to smell like Coconut Kisses. He wanted to smell like sweat and other manly Pikachu things.
Ash sighed. "Fine. I'll get a job, dad." But I promise to wipe out the Council of Caterpie and the Rattata Federation. I will avenge Giovanni.
"Great!" Riley beamed. "I hear the Wegmans down the block is hiring."
"Yes. Wegmans. Home of glory. I will take on this mantle. Farewell."
Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
I leave Riley behind and venture onward toward Wegmans. However, I don't make it very far before I realize I didn't know what the fuck Wegmans was.
I glare back at the previous corpse writer, wondering why they automatically assumed the next person to write me would know what Wegmans was. And why the fuck they decided to specify that I was thirty-one years old--what a random ass age. I'm already mature enough as it is, aren't I?
I roll my eyes and stare at those listening and/or reading this corpse right now and swish my bangs out of my eyes. I'm edgy, so of course I've grown out my hair to cover my eye, because that's practical as an edgelord. I close my trigonometry textbook and shake my head.
"You all voted for this," I sigh, "and I have a headache. All I wanted to do with my life was catch 'em all, and this is what I get?"
As my writer starts to realize that Wegman's is a supermarket chain, I now understand what I must do. I must go get a job at Wegman's. For some reason. Because me, Ash, Pokemon aficionado, thirty-one year old edgy, smart, and mature aura guardian Rocket with a trigonometry major would surely go get a job at Wegmans.
I steal one more glare back at the other writer, before I keep going, wondering when my life went so awry. I suddenly remember that it all started with this corpse being sent out, and I sigh in dismay. And of course, I feel like it's only going to get worse.
Upon arriving at Wegmans, I immediately put my luscious edgy hair to use and channel my inner Karen in order to ask to speak to the manager. I must have terrified the poor, stupid cashier with my Team Rocket uniform on top of it, because soon I'm talking to the manager on shift. His name is apparently Brock, because the writer of this section thinks it would be funny if Brock was managing a Wegmans.
"What can I do for you?" he asks. He pauses and waits for my answer before suddenly looking over my shoulder. Or, at least, I think he does. His eyes have always been closed, and I've never been able to tell when he can see or not.
"Who are all these people you have with you?" he asked incredulously.
I once again glance back at the poor saps stuck reading and/or listening to this and answer curtly. "They're members of a Pokemon forum. They want to see me become as powered up as possible, so I am here for a job."
"Why do they want to see you become as powered up as possible?" Brock queries. He apparently can't do anything else but ask questions.
"Because I am Ash, and I am the center of everything in Pokemon," I answer truthfully. Because that is the truth.
Brock looks surprised to hear this. "You are?"
"Yes. And they don't like that, so they're writing this corpse the humiliate me, even though all I want to do is catch 'em all." I have a frown on my face at this point. "Which is why I'm here, at Wegman's, asking you, Brock, for a job?"
"That's why I work at Wegman's now? Even though I too want to catch them all?" Brock says, flabbergasted. I wish he'd stop asking questions and just go along with it.
"It's ''em', and yes. You are also part of the joke. They just hate you a little less."
"Interesting," Brock hums, stroking his lip. "Alright, you're hired. I'm only saying that because I'm getting stressed out at them laughing at me."
"You'll get used to it," I say dejectedly.
Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
Sitting in a dark and barren room was a young boy, he glanced around before his attention was snatched by two lights.
Another boy, looking identical to the one sitting, stood, leaning against another identical clone. Only the colours of their hair could differentiate them.
It's blue and red, for your information.
The original Ash stared at his two doppelgangers when music sprung to life and the two danced and twirled.
"Prepare for trouble!"
"And make it dou–"
Yeah, I'm not doing this stupid bit.
"Hey!" the blue one shouted, pointing an angry finger at the screen. "You can't do that!"
"Yeah!" the red one agreed. "You're supposed to narrate our every action! What do we pay you for?"
Nothing! I was doing fine and dandy in my house, living life to the fullest–
"Your room is a mess and you were staring at a blank document." They deadpanned.
Like I said–
Living life to the fullest before you showed up and threatened me at gunpoint.
"Pikachu's not a gun," the original boy muttered.
Well, he wouldn't be if you weren't so fucking crazy!
Another light and another Ash popped up, this time with purple hair and an irritated expression. "What's this about a Pika-gun? I thought we'd settled this."
An orange one appeared, pouting. "I wanted him to be a minigun…"
More appeared, spotting hair in various shades of the rainbow. They argued, shouted over another, voices melding into an incomprehensible mess, the original topic having strayed off to cheese, pop tarts and aliens hiding in people's toilets.
"... Ash… Ash!"
The sudden shout jolted the boy back to life, groaning in pain and clutching his head. "... Not the Pika… gun…"
Brock raised a brow before quickly ignoring him, holding out a piece of paper with words! Words! I dare say.
"Shut… up…" Ash muttered, to which I ignored.
Whether Brock hadn't heard or had simply ignored him, he didn't show it when he continued. "Sign here and we'll get you settled for teaching the new… was your hair always pink?"
Pink Ash nodded, blinking with their pink eyes. "Of course!" His voice a lot bubblier than the depressing slob earlier. "Hi, Narrator!" He looked up and waved at the ceiling.
"Right…" Brock murmured, leaning into his desk and whispering into a device, "Séan, this is a Code Rainbow, send in The Rai."
"Who?" Pink Ash said, popping from beneath and pushing his head against the device. Before Brock could say a word, the boy hopped back into his seat, eyes dull and hair deflating into a depressing dark blue. "Actually, y'know what, I don't care. Nothing matters when everyone keeps laughing at me."
"... Same…" Brock said, hugging his knees to his chest as the two sulked about countless voices and laughter.
"Alright, maggots!" Lt. Surge yelled, pointing to a nearby blackboard with a… what were those pointy stick-like things people used to point at stuff called again?
Nevermind, I'mma just call it a stick.
"Completing a math equation is like fighting a war! You must have a strong mind! A powerful conviction and most importantly, a great understanding of the art itself! Take me for example." He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I'm not only a military vet of ten years! But I've fought in the Pokémon wars! That alone required me to learn and understand math well beyond your imagination!"
A hand rose.
"You there! Yes? Do you need me to explain it more thoroughly?"
Purple Ash shook his head. "Sorry to interrupt but… I don't think people would call that… hard." He pointed at the blackboard, a deadpan expression on his face as he stared at the very big and very large '2+2=5' and a chibi illustration of the lieutenant's face glaring angrily at it.
"Ah, a smartass. Well, wait till you get a load of this!" Lt. Surge wiped the chalk off before conjuring up a cloud of dust that was definitely there and definitely obscured Purple Ash from seeing the… equation.
Purple Ash sighed, shaking his head. "This is just embarrassing. Here, let me–"
An explosion sounded off, enveloping the crowd and the surrounding area in a suffocatingly heavy cloud of smoke.
Winds blew from above, clearing the smoke as a helicopter came into view. "I have had enough of this!" a mysterious and devilishly-handsome person shouted from the vehicle. "No math shall live beyond this point!"
Purple Ash, now Red Ash had his eyes widened in surprise at the newcomer, the dramatic entrance and pretty face catching his attention. "Who–"
"Tch, how have you forgotten? It'd only been a couple minutes (reader wise) and yet, you've somehow managed to already forget the original?"
"You're the Narrator!"
"Bollocks! No, you twat! I was the original Ash, the one you'd forced to narrate your inane thoughts and actions, the one who was taken from his home and the one who had his best friend slaughtered!"
"You're British!"
"Yes I'm– that's what you gravitate towards? My sudden Bri'ishness? Not the giant missile I've sent to destroy you and your wretched world? Really?"
"You do realise no one will understand anything that's happening if you keep adding and tossing things away into the pile of dumb ideas."
Narrator Ash (We are not calling me that!) scoffed, crossing his arms. "Bah, nothing will make sense by the time this ends either way."
"... I can't seem to refute that statement…"
"If you can't do jackshit then feast your eyes on this!" He pressed a giant red button, streams of smoke rose from the ground and the horizon before they quickly made their way to the battlefield.
"Mwahahahaha!"
Can Ash and his constantly changing hair colour take down this evil and dastardly-handsome alternate dimension Ash? Will the alternate Ash finally get people to stop calling him the Narrator? And will someone please tell me what The Rai and Brock had to do with this? Find out… next time… or don't… I don't care… honestly… okay maybe a little…
Multidimensional!Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
==========
Ash took a step back from his evil counterpart, mind racing. He could do this—he hadn’t yet encountered a situation he couldn’t overcome with his smarts, or his aura, or his math skills. He just needed to think…
And yet, thinking was just about the hardest thing to do right now. A swirling haze of colors and lights and sounds was pressing in on him, the narrator’s voice pounding in his ears like a foghorn. His thoughts felt hazy, disconnected. His focus drifted from one thing to the next, and when he tried to grab it, it slipped through his fingers like sand.
He couldn’t even calculate the area of a simple sine curve.
He saw the threads of the story ensnaring him like golden threads weaving themselves through his very being. Each one, a possibility. The one where he became a detective. The one where he became a pilot. The one where he became a… Popplio?
It felt like he was being pulled in every direction. No path was the correct one, and yet all of them were. He needed to defeat his evil counterpart. He needed to recapture his lost youth. He needed to finish his master’s degree. And still some small, strange, twisted part of himself kept insisting he needed to capture Pokémon for the glory of Team Rocket.
He could see it now. He needed to break free from the story. If he could just grab the threads and pull hard enough, maybe he could break them, and then maybe he’d be free. He wound his fingers through a handful of golden strands, so tightly that they would have bled, had any of this been real. Then he pulled.
His surroundings melted into searing light as blinding pain lanced through his core. He couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t feel anything but the shock waves tearing into him like lightning.
Lightning…
Pikachu… He missed Pikachu so much. How long had it been? He couldn’t remember.
Everything had gone white. Ash’s normal senses had gone, but his aura sense was still with him. He concentrated, and then felt it—an aura behind him. Small, yet powerful. And also… familiar.
He tried to turn around, and it was like relearning how to walk. Slowly, he felt his awareness reconnecting with his body. He twitched his fingers experimentally. Then he opened his eyes. Tears began to pour from them immediately.
“Pikachu,” Ash said, nearly choking on the words, “it’s been so long, I thought I’d never see you again.”
Pikachu spoke: “It’s okay, Ash—I know how we can find our way home.”
Traitor!Multidimensional!Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
"Woah, you can talk?!"
Ash leapt back in surprise--reaching up to smooth his bangs over his right eye, but being sure not to smudge his under-eye liner.
Pikachu rolled his eyes. "*Yes*, Ash, we've been through this. I’ve always been able to talk. It’s just that you can only understand me in this dimension,” he said as he pointed his fingers to the ground. “If we go back through that—“ he jabbed a finger at a wormhole hovering above them, showcasing a psychedelic vortex within— “then you’re ten years old again and I’m a speechless Pokemon.”
“Oh… right.” He looked up at the wormhole. After everything he and Pikachu had been through, it would be good to go home. It would be hard, for sure—de-aging 21 years, losing his experience studying trigonometry, leaving behind his shy and reserved personalities for his boisterous one… And would he still be the Aura Guardian?
He looked around: this place was a total mess. The laws of gravity weren’t working properly, and there were rocks and plants floating in the air. Water floated upwards in reverse-waterfalls, and the sky was replaced with a purple-grey ripple, like a sort of galaxy. Everything had a distinct feeling of being not right. Aura guardian or not, they needed to leave the Distortion World.
He looked back at Pikachu, who was looking thoughtfully up at the wormhole, his chin in one of his stubby hands.
“How does this dimension travel work again? Speed is traveling faster than time, so it rips a hole, right? Which means we need to be travelling at the right speed if we want the wormhole to take us back home…”
Ash held his hands up. “Woah, don’t ask me! I never studied that quantum physics stuff.”
“But you majored in trigonometry! Isn’t that the basis for all of this?”
“Yeah, I majored in it, I didn’t pass! That was ten years ago! I didn’t like school, and I wasn’t good at it, so I dropped out, took up my place as Aura Guardian for a side-gig for a couple of years, then I joined—er, well, I found other stuff to do in my time!”
Pikachu’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you stutter, Ash Ketchum?”
Ash grinned maliciously—it was time to let his true colors show!
“Ta-da!”
He ripped his shirt open—displaying ANOTHER shirt with a bright red R just beneath!
Pikachu gasped. “You’re one of them!”
“You got that right! I’m an admin on the Thousand Roads—wait a second, no, wrong one—a-HA!” He ripped off that shirt to display yet another shirt with a bright red R, in almost the exact same style and shade. “I’m an admin in TEAM ROCKET!”
… I think.
Before Pikachu could further react, Ash leapt into action. Springing forward, he wrapped his gloved hands around Pikachu. Pikachu’s cheeks sparked—and but the sparks immediately died.
“Rubber gloves?!? How did you know they would nullify my electricity?”
“I’ve grown up, Pikachu! I’m not the loser that Gary made fun of—I’m not a loser at all! I might have flunked out of college, but while I was there I did go camping and learn some neat wilderness survival techniques!”
Pikachu glared. “I can’t believe you! After all our years of friendship—and you betray me like this!”
Ash shrugged. “Get used to it—I’ve finally found a group that makes me feel wanted. Team Rocket makes me feel seen, known, and loved!
“And now, to make my cunning escape! Hy-yah!”
Ash leapt into the air, tucking his legs in as he plunged into the wormhole. A kaleidoscope of colors swirled around him and Pikachu as they soared through non-time and non-space. Hundreds of doors spun about them, opening and closing, revealing different dimensions: one with nothing but bare rock and a starry sky; another showing a raging ocean crashing against seaside cliffs; volcanoes erupting along a tropical coastline; a legion of Gulpin swallowing objects as they fruitlessly tried to appease their gluttony; an Ursaring with Magikarp for hands roaring as it slapped Palkia in the face. The doors opened and closed rapidly, only allowing Ash and Pikachu brief glimpses into countless different worlds.
As Ash watched the swirling doors, the rush of adrenaline that had overtaken him slowly died. The doors didn’t stop opening and closing—but they weren’t pulling him in, either. The sounds of creaky hinges and slamming were getting kinda annoying.
“So…” Pikachu looked up at Ash. “You are kidnapping me, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right! And I’m gonna take you to Giovanni, and he’s gonna make me his NEW favorite!”
“Uh-huh.” Pikachu looked back at the doors. “Are we going through the door that’s gonna take us home, then?”
“Nah! I’m gonna find one that’s still gonna take us back to Kanto, but I’m going to stay thirty-one-years old and keep my several personalities! I’ll still be a valued member of Team Rocket! I can figure it out—I’m smart now, remember?”
“Huh.” Pikachu’s ear twitched as he gave Ash the side-eye. “So… which one is it?”
As Ash looked at the endless interdimensional openings surrounding him, his heart turned cold with fear—which one would take them home?
He turns, looks up at you, and asks, “What do you think we should do?”
Glitched!Traitor!Multidimensional!Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
Ash stares into the infinite abyss, and the portals within stare back into him. There are as many worlds out there as there are personalities in his mind. Far more. Maybe even a world for each Ash? Light from the swirling vortex is reflected in his mature, edgy eyes – eyes which flicker between innocence, thoughtfulness, contempt, greed, fear... Those intelligent, traitorous, thirty-one-year-old eyes hold so many contradicting impulses.
"I don't know," you say. "How can any one choice be the right answer for all of you? You're barely holding yourself together."
Ash leers at you, his tongue rasping over a sharpened fang. "Ha, of course you've no idea what to do. You're just another brainless mareep!" His eyes soften, then crease with pain. "I'm sorry. This is a hard moment for both of us, and it's my responsibility as an Aura Guardian to protect you."
The vortex continues to swirl. Time and space mean nothing. A gut-wrenching crack echoes throughout the void, and the humming of the worlds drones louder than before.
"I have a bad feeling that the longer we stay here, the worse things are gonna get," you mutter.
"Then prepare for trouble," cackles Ash. "And make it double!" He pauses, his brow furrows, and then he adds, "Trigonometry remains a reliable mathematical tool even in the face of enormous numbers of interdimensional portals destabilizing time and space."
"You're losing it," you say. "You're not... You're not yourself anymore."
You can't help but feel that Ash is falling apart. Can he even be called 'Ash'? What makes him Ash, and not just... What, a jumble of contrived, unrelated traits? Countless immature fans' incompatible ideas of what a 'badass' protagonist ought to be? Intrusive projection by authors who don't know how to write a young boy with a goal he believes in and a passion for Pokémon?
The crack deepens, and the multiverse shudders, all Creation choking on the thirty-one-year-old (ten-year-old) Pokémon trainer standing in its gullet. Ash's jaw slackens, and his eyes flick from portal to portal as if in REM sleep. His features seem to shift chaotically in front of you, boxy patches of skin and hair and fabric flickering between superimposed appearances. A jarring crackling noise skips your ears and makes itself heard directly in your bones.
"I'm not losing it. I always win!" he says, fists clenched. "I was born to be a winner! Born to be the very best! Pokémon! Johto!"
"What?"
"I'm unbeatable! Pokémon, Advance Battle!"
The crack echoes out again, and then you see it—the universe is slowly shattering around Ash, like a punctured pane of glass, spiderweb fractures rippling out in slow motion.
"Oh, god," you say. "The universe can't handle what you've become. You don't make any sense. You're broken."
You wave a hand in front of his face, but there are too many selves fighting for the body. Ash doesn't respond. The body doesn't respond. Without a clear identity at the helm, it may as well be a meat puppet for the author. No character at all. Just a corpse, stuffed with too many ideas. Bloated with everything anyone has ever imagined of him.
"How can I fix this?" you ask. "How do I put you right?"
The corpse of Everything Ash stares blankly at you, and mumbles something about catching them all. The wider the crack in the multiverse grows, the worse he gets. The more color drains from his cheeks. You glance at the portals, and they, too, seem slowly to be greying from the sheer incoherence of Ash.
"You... You're Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town," you tell him. "You want to be a Pokémon Master. What does that mean? What makes a Pokémon Master?"
"All Pokémon exist for the glory of Team Rocket," he moans. "Sin, cos, and tan are fundamental trigonometric functions used to calculate the relationships between angles and sides in right triangles."
You grab Ash by the shoulders and shake him. "That's not you," you shout at him, hoping something in there will listen. "The real Ash isn't smart, he's a goofy kid who loves Pokémon and food and his friends! He's kind, and loyal, and he never thinks before he acts! He'd never betray anybody! He'd never join Team Rocket! He'd never study fucking trigonometry! He's—he's simple! He's... just a boy. Not a hundred mismatched personalities. What are you, a Spiritomb?"
Ash's eyes clear for a second, a memory coming to the surface.
"Gotta... give the spirit back," whispers something in the corpse.
You stare right into his eyes, searching for the 'real' Ash. "Tell me what it means to be a Pokémon Master," you beg, again.
The Ash-corpse blinks, slowly. "It means... meeting every kind of Pokémon. And... befriending them."
The multiverse stops cracking apart for a moment. Yes. Yes, that felt right. The real Ash is still in there, somewhere.
"Yes!" you cry. "Yes, you befriend Pokémon. That's your whole thing, isn't it? That's..."
You finally notice what's wrong.
You take your hands off of Ash's shoulders, and the multiverse lurches at the absense there.
"It isn't about you," you say. "The problem is what's missing. Ash is never without his partner."
Ash's eyes aren't mature or edgy anymore. They're just afraid.
"My... partner...?"
The cosmological background noise of a million, million universes is interrupted by a distant cry. You don't recognise it at first. Ash, though, hears it clearly.
"Pikachu," mumurs Ash.
"Pika-pi!" comes the call again.
At first it's just a distant, golden light, but it's unmistakable. The energy, the movement, the way the cracks in continuity retreat back into the void. It's him. Pikachu sprints out of eternity and leaps into the air. Ash reaches out, a reflex that bypasses all the chaos and weirdness and darkness in him. And then, in that beautiful moment, as Ash catches Pikachu for the ten-thousandth time...
"Pika... Chuuuuuu!!"
...Pikachu shocks him.
Ash!Ash
You put a hand to your eyes to shield them from the brightness. When you look back, Ash is covered in sooty char, hair frazzled and on end, and gently giving off a faint, black smoke. He looks at you, and then back at Pikachu, still held tightly in his arms, and he laughs. Pikachu laughs too, squealing in joy.
"Wait, what's happening?" you say. "Did I just—? How can—? Was the answer simply to... what, remember Pikachu?"
Ash turns his face to you, and his eyes are bright and full of determination. He's smiling. He even looks a little cocky.
"There's no way I'd ever let my best buddy down," he says. "Me and Pikachu... We always wanna be together. And that's the way it's gotta be!"
He's no brainy STEM professional in his thirties with a mean streak. All he can do to explain this is give an earnest, passionate declaration that only loosely makes any sense at all. But... you get it, don't you? Ash isn't Ash if he isn't with Pikachu. That's not his story.
Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town lets his partner run up onto his shoulder, tugs his hat backwards, and points to the distance.
Only one portal still looks colorful and intact, a shimmering gateway to the world they belong to. Ash Ketchum and Pikachu don't take their eyes off it. They don't look back at you—you're not there any more. How could you have ever been there? (After all, breaking the fourth wall is Team Rocket's thing. Meowth, thaaaaaat's right!)
Ash Ketchum runs forward and hurls himself, and Pikachu with him, back into their own story.
Chibi Pika
HelloYellow17
Starlight Aurate
Shini Gojira
Sinderella
Torchic?
unreprentantAuthor
HelloYellow17
Starlight Aurate
Shini Gojira
Sinderella
Torchic?
unreprentantAuthor
PART I.
Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
“What are you doing?!” The young schoolgirl grabbed at her hair and shrieked, staring wide-eyed at the smouldering pile of charred feathers that was her Spearow.
“I think the proper question is, what have I done.” Ashton “Ash” Shinigami Ketchum spoke in a deep voice that rumbled like a bass drum. “And I’ve just won.”
If he were wearing glasses, this would have been the moment he slowly raised his free hand to push them back, allowing the sunlight to glint off the lenses and further intimidate his cowering opponent. But he didn’t wear glasses, and it was overcast today, so instead he settled for psychically projecting the image into the girl’s mind. The girl sobbed.
“You didn’t have to almost kill her!” She fell to her knees and gathered the weak, insignificant bird into her arms. “It’s just a battle! What is wrong with you!”
Pikachu shifted his feet and put a hand behind his head. “Pika?” His squeak deep and imposing, like a clap of thunder, which made the girl jump and shriek again.
Ash admired the perfect specimen before him: years of arduous training had finally paid off in the form of rippling pectorals, bulging biceps, a chiseled chin, and the largest Pikachu ever recorded. He was nearly as tall as Ash himself now, a modest seven feet. One day, he would surpass even his master.
He looked back at the foolish, naive girl. “Well, actually,” Ash rumbled with a haughty smirk, “this is what Pokémon should be. It’s realistic, you see. Pokémon ought to be dying left and right for this world to be believable. In fact, I should have had Pikachu incinerate your pathetic little pet right here, but I suppose I will show restraint. For now.”
The girl stared for a second. “What are you TALKING about?” she screamed.
“I wouldn’t expect a weakling like yourself to understand.” Ash bowed his head, his cap casting his face in shadow. Then he turned away and faced the path ahead, the one leading to his destiny.
“Come, Pikachu. Let us incinerate all Caterpie and Rattata that dare challenge us.”
“Yes, Father,” Pikachu said in a low, thundering squeak. Then they set off together, destined for glory.
HelloYellow17
PART II.
Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
Caterpie crashed into the ground, tumbling across the carpet. Around him, the bodies of his fellow congress members were scattered around the room. It was a horrific sight, and it would be his last.
In front of him, Ash Ketchum was glowing with pure aura energy. And numbers and code and other smart nerd things.
“Ash,” he muttered, “before you go on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”
Ash scoffed. “Idiot. Simple minded pleb. It’s clear you don’t have your PhD in Trigonometry, because you can’t do simple math. I’m going to need a graveyard for my journey. By my calculations... you're already dead."
"W-What?!"
“Oh Aaaaaaaash!”
Riley skipped into the living room, a plate of cookies in hand. Caterpie to the moment of distraction as an opportunity to flee. Ash groaned.
“Dad! I’m trying to lure the Council of Caterpie into my adobe so I can entrap them in a death trap! You’re ruining the vibe!”
Riley sighed. “Ash, you’re thirty one. You can’t keep committing political assassinations in your old man’s house anymore. You need a real job.”
“I hate you, dad. You’re mean and smelly.”
"Your Pikachu is smellier. He doesn't even shower."
Pikachu huffed. Sure, he didn't shower, but he didn't want to smell like Coconut Kisses. He wanted to smell like sweat and other manly Pikachu things.
Ash sighed. "Fine. I'll get a job, dad." But I promise to wipe out the Council of Caterpie and the Rattata Federation. I will avenge Giovanni.
"Great!" Riley beamed. "I hear the Wegmans down the block is hiring."
"Yes. Wegmans. Home of glory. I will take on this mantle. Farewell."
Torchic?
PART III.
Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
I leave Riley behind and venture onward toward Wegmans. However, I don't make it very far before I realize I didn't know what the fuck Wegmans was.
I glare back at the previous corpse writer, wondering why they automatically assumed the next person to write me would know what Wegmans was. And why the fuck they decided to specify that I was thirty-one years old--what a random ass age. I'm already mature enough as it is, aren't I?
I roll my eyes and stare at those listening and/or reading this corpse right now and swish my bangs out of my eyes. I'm edgy, so of course I've grown out my hair to cover my eye, because that's practical as an edgelord. I close my trigonometry textbook and shake my head.
"You all voted for this," I sigh, "and I have a headache. All I wanted to do with my life was catch 'em all, and this is what I get?"
As my writer starts to realize that Wegman's is a supermarket chain, I now understand what I must do. I must go get a job at Wegman's. For some reason. Because me, Ash, Pokemon aficionado, thirty-one year old edgy, smart, and mature aura guardian Rocket with a trigonometry major would surely go get a job at Wegmans.
I steal one more glare back at the other writer, before I keep going, wondering when my life went so awry. I suddenly remember that it all started with this corpse being sent out, and I sigh in dismay. And of course, I feel like it's only going to get worse.
Upon arriving at Wegmans, I immediately put my luscious edgy hair to use and channel my inner Karen in order to ask to speak to the manager. I must have terrified the poor, stupid cashier with my Team Rocket uniform on top of it, because soon I'm talking to the manager on shift. His name is apparently Brock, because the writer of this section thinks it would be funny if Brock was managing a Wegmans.
"What can I do for you?" he asks. He pauses and waits for my answer before suddenly looking over my shoulder. Or, at least, I think he does. His eyes have always been closed, and I've never been able to tell when he can see or not.
"Who are all these people you have with you?" he asked incredulously.
I once again glance back at the poor saps stuck reading and/or listening to this and answer curtly. "They're members of a Pokemon forum. They want to see me become as powered up as possible, so I am here for a job."
"Why do they want to see you become as powered up as possible?" Brock queries. He apparently can't do anything else but ask questions.
"Because I am Ash, and I am the center of everything in Pokemon," I answer truthfully. Because that is the truth.
Brock looks surprised to hear this. "You are?"
"Yes. And they don't like that, so they're writing this corpse the humiliate me, even though all I want to do is catch 'em all." I have a frown on my face at this point. "Which is why I'm here, at Wegman's, asking you, Brock, for a job?"
"That's why I work at Wegman's now? Even though I too want to catch them all?" Brock says, flabbergasted. I wish he'd stop asking questions and just go along with it.
"It's ''em', and yes. You are also part of the joke. They just hate you a little less."
"Interesting," Brock hums, stroking his lip. "Alright, you're hired. I'm only saying that because I'm getting stressed out at them laughing at me."
"You'll get used to it," I say dejectedly.
Sinderella
PART IV.
Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
Sitting in a dark and barren room was a young boy, he glanced around before his attention was snatched by two lights.
Another boy, looking identical to the one sitting, stood, leaning against another identical clone. Only the colours of their hair could differentiate them.
It's blue and red, for your information.
The original Ash stared at his two doppelgangers when music sprung to life and the two danced and twirled.
"Prepare for trouble!"
"And make it dou–"
Yeah, I'm not doing this stupid bit.
"Hey!" the blue one shouted, pointing an angry finger at the screen. "You can't do that!"
"Yeah!" the red one agreed. "You're supposed to narrate our every action! What do we pay you for?"
Nothing! I was doing fine and dandy in my house, living life to the fullest–
"Your room is a mess and you were staring at a blank document." They deadpanned.
Like I said–
Living life to the fullest before you showed up and threatened me at gunpoint.
"Pikachu's not a gun," the original boy muttered.
Well, he wouldn't be if you weren't so fucking crazy!
Another light and another Ash popped up, this time with purple hair and an irritated expression. "What's this about a Pika-gun? I thought we'd settled this."
An orange one appeared, pouting. "I wanted him to be a minigun…"
More appeared, spotting hair in various shades of the rainbow. They argued, shouted over another, voices melding into an incomprehensible mess, the original topic having strayed off to cheese, pop tarts and aliens hiding in people's toilets.
"... Ash… Ash!"
The sudden shout jolted the boy back to life, groaning in pain and clutching his head. "... Not the Pika… gun…"
Brock raised a brow before quickly ignoring him, holding out a piece of paper with words! Words! I dare say.
"Shut… up…" Ash muttered, to which I ignored.
Whether Brock hadn't heard or had simply ignored him, he didn't show it when he continued. "Sign here and we'll get you settled for teaching the new… was your hair always pink?"
Pink Ash nodded, blinking with their pink eyes. "Of course!" His voice a lot bubblier than the depressing slob earlier. "Hi, Narrator!" He looked up and waved at the ceiling.
"Right…" Brock murmured, leaning into his desk and whispering into a device, "Séan, this is a Code Rainbow, send in The Rai."
"Who?" Pink Ash said, popping from beneath and pushing his head against the device. Before Brock could say a word, the boy hopped back into his seat, eyes dull and hair deflating into a depressing dark blue. "Actually, y'know what, I don't care. Nothing matters when everyone keeps laughing at me."
"... Same…" Brock said, hugging his knees to his chest as the two sulked about countless voices and laughter.
"Alright, maggots!" Lt. Surge yelled, pointing to a nearby blackboard with a… what were those pointy stick-like things people used to point at stuff called again?
Nevermind, I'mma just call it a stick.
"Completing a math equation is like fighting a war! You must have a strong mind! A powerful conviction and most importantly, a great understanding of the art itself! Take me for example." He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I'm not only a military vet of ten years! But I've fought in the Pokémon wars! That alone required me to learn and understand math well beyond your imagination!"
A hand rose.
"You there! Yes? Do you need me to explain it more thoroughly?"
Purple Ash shook his head. "Sorry to interrupt but… I don't think people would call that… hard." He pointed at the blackboard, a deadpan expression on his face as he stared at the very big and very large '2+2=5' and a chibi illustration of the lieutenant's face glaring angrily at it.
"Ah, a smartass. Well, wait till you get a load of this!" Lt. Surge wiped the chalk off before conjuring up a cloud of dust that was definitely there and definitely obscured Purple Ash from seeing the… equation.
Purple Ash sighed, shaking his head. "This is just embarrassing. Here, let me–"
An explosion sounded off, enveloping the crowd and the surrounding area in a suffocatingly heavy cloud of smoke.
Winds blew from above, clearing the smoke as a helicopter came into view. "I have had enough of this!" a mysterious and devilishly-handsome person shouted from the vehicle. "No math shall live beyond this point!"
Purple Ash, now Red Ash had his eyes widened in surprise at the newcomer, the dramatic entrance and pretty face catching his attention. "Who–"
"Tch, how have you forgotten? It'd only been a couple minutes (reader wise) and yet, you've somehow managed to already forget the original?"
"You're the Narrator!"
"Bollocks! No, you twat! I was the original Ash, the one you'd forced to narrate your inane thoughts and actions, the one who was taken from his home and the one who had his best friend slaughtered!"
"You're British!"
"Yes I'm– that's what you gravitate towards? My sudden Bri'ishness? Not the giant missile I've sent to destroy you and your wretched world? Really?"
"You do realise no one will understand anything that's happening if you keep adding and tossing things away into the pile of dumb ideas."
Narrator Ash (We are not calling me that!) scoffed, crossing his arms. "Bah, nothing will make sense by the time this ends either way."
"... I can't seem to refute that statement…"
"If you can't do jackshit then feast your eyes on this!" He pressed a giant red button, streams of smoke rose from the ground and the horizon before they quickly made their way to the battlefield.
"Mwahahahaha!"
Can Ash and his constantly changing hair colour take down this evil and dastardly-handsome alternate dimension Ash? Will the alternate Ash finally get people to stop calling him the Narrator? And will someone please tell me what The Rai and Brock had to do with this? Find out… next time… or don't… I don't care… honestly… okay maybe a little…
Shini Gojira
PART V.
Multidimensional!Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
==========
Ash took a step back from his evil counterpart, mind racing. He could do this—he hadn’t yet encountered a situation he couldn’t overcome with his smarts, or his aura, or his math skills. He just needed to think…
And yet, thinking was just about the hardest thing to do right now. A swirling haze of colors and lights and sounds was pressing in on him, the narrator’s voice pounding in his ears like a foghorn. His thoughts felt hazy, disconnected. His focus drifted from one thing to the next, and when he tried to grab it, it slipped through his fingers like sand.
He couldn’t even calculate the area of a simple sine curve.
He saw the threads of the story ensnaring him like golden threads weaving themselves through his very being. Each one, a possibility. The one where he became a detective. The one where he became a pilot. The one where he became a… Popplio?
It felt like he was being pulled in every direction. No path was the correct one, and yet all of them were. He needed to defeat his evil counterpart. He needed to recapture his lost youth. He needed to finish his master’s degree. And still some small, strange, twisted part of himself kept insisting he needed to capture Pokémon for the glory of Team Rocket.
He could see it now. He needed to break free from the story. If he could just grab the threads and pull hard enough, maybe he could break them, and then maybe he’d be free. He wound his fingers through a handful of golden strands, so tightly that they would have bled, had any of this been real. Then he pulled.
His surroundings melted into searing light as blinding pain lanced through his core. He couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t feel anything but the shock waves tearing into him like lightning.
Lightning…
Pikachu… He missed Pikachu so much. How long had it been? He couldn’t remember.
Everything had gone white. Ash’s normal senses had gone, but his aura sense was still with him. He concentrated, and then felt it—an aura behind him. Small, yet powerful. And also… familiar.
He tried to turn around, and it was like relearning how to walk. Slowly, he felt his awareness reconnecting with his body. He twitched his fingers experimentally. Then he opened his eyes. Tears began to pour from them immediately.
“Pikachu,” Ash said, nearly choking on the words, “it’s been so long, I thought I’d never see you again.”
Pikachu spoke: “It’s okay, Ash—I know how we can find our way home.”
Chibi Pika
PART VI.
Traitor!Multidimensional!Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
"Woah, you can talk?!"
Ash leapt back in surprise--reaching up to smooth his bangs over his right eye, but being sure not to smudge his under-eye liner.
Pikachu rolled his eyes. "*Yes*, Ash, we've been through this. I’ve always been able to talk. It’s just that you can only understand me in this dimension,” he said as he pointed his fingers to the ground. “If we go back through that—“ he jabbed a finger at a wormhole hovering above them, showcasing a psychedelic vortex within— “then you’re ten years old again and I’m a speechless Pokemon.”
“Oh… right.” He looked up at the wormhole. After everything he and Pikachu had been through, it would be good to go home. It would be hard, for sure—de-aging 21 years, losing his experience studying trigonometry, leaving behind his shy and reserved personalities for his boisterous one… And would he still be the Aura Guardian?
He looked around: this place was a total mess. The laws of gravity weren’t working properly, and there were rocks and plants floating in the air. Water floated upwards in reverse-waterfalls, and the sky was replaced with a purple-grey ripple, like a sort of galaxy. Everything had a distinct feeling of being not right. Aura guardian or not, they needed to leave the Distortion World.
He looked back at Pikachu, who was looking thoughtfully up at the wormhole, his chin in one of his stubby hands.
“How does this dimension travel work again? Speed is traveling faster than time, so it rips a hole, right? Which means we need to be travelling at the right speed if we want the wormhole to take us back home…”
Ash held his hands up. “Woah, don’t ask me! I never studied that quantum physics stuff.”
“But you majored in trigonometry! Isn’t that the basis for all of this?”
“Yeah, I majored in it, I didn’t pass! That was ten years ago! I didn’t like school, and I wasn’t good at it, so I dropped out, took up my place as Aura Guardian for a side-gig for a couple of years, then I joined—er, well, I found other stuff to do in my time!”
Pikachu’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you stutter, Ash Ketchum?”
Ash grinned maliciously—it was time to let his true colors show!
“Ta-da!”
He ripped his shirt open—displaying ANOTHER shirt with a bright red R just beneath!
Pikachu gasped. “You’re one of them!”
“You got that right! I’m an admin on the Thousand Roads—wait a second, no, wrong one—a-HA!” He ripped off that shirt to display yet another shirt with a bright red R, in almost the exact same style and shade. “I’m an admin in TEAM ROCKET!”
… I think.
Before Pikachu could further react, Ash leapt into action. Springing forward, he wrapped his gloved hands around Pikachu. Pikachu’s cheeks sparked—and but the sparks immediately died.
“Rubber gloves?!? How did you know they would nullify my electricity?”
“I’ve grown up, Pikachu! I’m not the loser that Gary made fun of—I’m not a loser at all! I might have flunked out of college, but while I was there I did go camping and learn some neat wilderness survival techniques!”
Pikachu glared. “I can’t believe you! After all our years of friendship—and you betray me like this!”
Ash shrugged. “Get used to it—I’ve finally found a group that makes me feel wanted. Team Rocket makes me feel seen, known, and loved!
“And now, to make my cunning escape! Hy-yah!”
Ash leapt into the air, tucking his legs in as he plunged into the wormhole. A kaleidoscope of colors swirled around him and Pikachu as they soared through non-time and non-space. Hundreds of doors spun about them, opening and closing, revealing different dimensions: one with nothing but bare rock and a starry sky; another showing a raging ocean crashing against seaside cliffs; volcanoes erupting along a tropical coastline; a legion of Gulpin swallowing objects as they fruitlessly tried to appease their gluttony; an Ursaring with Magikarp for hands roaring as it slapped Palkia in the face. The doors opened and closed rapidly, only allowing Ash and Pikachu brief glimpses into countless different worlds.
As Ash watched the swirling doors, the rush of adrenaline that had overtaken him slowly died. The doors didn’t stop opening and closing—but they weren’t pulling him in, either. The sounds of creaky hinges and slamming were getting kinda annoying.
“So…” Pikachu looked up at Ash. “You are kidnapping me, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right! And I’m gonna take you to Giovanni, and he’s gonna make me his NEW favorite!”
“Uh-huh.” Pikachu looked back at the doors. “Are we going through the door that’s gonna take us home, then?”
“Nah! I’m gonna find one that’s still gonna take us back to Kanto, but I’m going to stay thirty-one-years old and keep my several personalities! I’ll still be a valued member of Team Rocket! I can figure it out—I’m smart now, remember?”
“Huh.” Pikachu’s ear twitched as he gave Ash the side-eye. “So… which one is it?”
As Ash looked at the endless interdimensional openings surrounding him, his heart turned cold with fear—which one would take them home?
He turns, looks up at you, and asks, “What do you think we should do?”
Starlight Aurate
PART VII.
Glitched!Traitor!Multidimensional!Multiple Personalities!Fourth Wall Breaking!Aura Guardian!Trigonometry Major!Thirty One Year Old!Team Rocket?!Smart!Mature!Edgy!Ash
Ash stares into the infinite abyss, and the portals within stare back into him. There are as many worlds out there as there are personalities in his mind. Far more. Maybe even a world for each Ash? Light from the swirling vortex is reflected in his mature, edgy eyes – eyes which flicker between innocence, thoughtfulness, contempt, greed, fear... Those intelligent, traitorous, thirty-one-year-old eyes hold so many contradicting impulses.
"I don't know," you say. "How can any one choice be the right answer for all of you? You're barely holding yourself together."
Ash leers at you, his tongue rasping over a sharpened fang. "Ha, of course you've no idea what to do. You're just another brainless mareep!" His eyes soften, then crease with pain. "I'm sorry. This is a hard moment for both of us, and it's my responsibility as an Aura Guardian to protect you."
The vortex continues to swirl. Time and space mean nothing. A gut-wrenching crack echoes throughout the void, and the humming of the worlds drones louder than before.
"I have a bad feeling that the longer we stay here, the worse things are gonna get," you mutter.
"Then prepare for trouble," cackles Ash. "And make it double!" He pauses, his brow furrows, and then he adds, "Trigonometry remains a reliable mathematical tool even in the face of enormous numbers of interdimensional portals destabilizing time and space."
"You're losing it," you say. "You're not... You're not yourself anymore."
You can't help but feel that Ash is falling apart. Can he even be called 'Ash'? What makes him Ash, and not just... What, a jumble of contrived, unrelated traits? Countless immature fans' incompatible ideas of what a 'badass' protagonist ought to be? Intrusive projection by authors who don't know how to write a young boy with a goal he believes in and a passion for Pokémon?
The crack deepens, and the multiverse shudders, all Creation choking on the thirty-one-year-old (ten-year-old) Pokémon trainer standing in its gullet. Ash's jaw slackens, and his eyes flick from portal to portal as if in REM sleep. His features seem to shift chaotically in front of you, boxy patches of skin and hair and fabric flickering between superimposed appearances. A jarring crackling noise skips your ears and makes itself heard directly in your bones.
"I'm not losing it. I always win!" he says, fists clenched. "I was born to be a winner! Born to be the very best! Pokémon! Johto!"
"What?"
"I'm unbeatable! Pokémon, Advance Battle!"
The crack echoes out again, and then you see it—the universe is slowly shattering around Ash, like a punctured pane of glass, spiderweb fractures rippling out in slow motion.
"Oh, god," you say. "The universe can't handle what you've become. You don't make any sense. You're broken."
You wave a hand in front of his face, but there are too many selves fighting for the body. Ash doesn't respond. The body doesn't respond. Without a clear identity at the helm, it may as well be a meat puppet for the author. No character at all. Just a corpse, stuffed with too many ideas. Bloated with everything anyone has ever imagined of him.
"How can I fix this?" you ask. "How do I put you right?"
The corpse of Everything Ash stares blankly at you, and mumbles something about catching them all. The wider the crack in the multiverse grows, the worse he gets. The more color drains from his cheeks. You glance at the portals, and they, too, seem slowly to be greying from the sheer incoherence of Ash.
"You... You're Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town," you tell him. "You want to be a Pokémon Master. What does that mean? What makes a Pokémon Master?"
"All Pokémon exist for the glory of Team Rocket," he moans. "Sin, cos, and tan are fundamental trigonometric functions used to calculate the relationships between angles and sides in right triangles."
You grab Ash by the shoulders and shake him. "That's not you," you shout at him, hoping something in there will listen. "The real Ash isn't smart, he's a goofy kid who loves Pokémon and food and his friends! He's kind, and loyal, and he never thinks before he acts! He'd never betray anybody! He'd never join Team Rocket! He'd never study fucking trigonometry! He's—he's simple! He's... just a boy. Not a hundred mismatched personalities. What are you, a Spiritomb?"
Ash's eyes clear for a second, a memory coming to the surface.
"Gotta... give the spirit back," whispers something in the corpse.
You stare right into his eyes, searching for the 'real' Ash. "Tell me what it means to be a Pokémon Master," you beg, again.
The Ash-corpse blinks, slowly. "It means... meeting every kind of Pokémon. And... befriending them."
The multiverse stops cracking apart for a moment. Yes. Yes, that felt right. The real Ash is still in there, somewhere.
"Yes!" you cry. "Yes, you befriend Pokémon. That's your whole thing, isn't it? That's..."
You finally notice what's wrong.
You take your hands off of Ash's shoulders, and the multiverse lurches at the absense there.
"It isn't about you," you say. "The problem is what's missing. Ash is never without his partner."
Ash's eyes aren't mature or edgy anymore. They're just afraid.
"My... partner...?"
The cosmological background noise of a million, million universes is interrupted by a distant cry. You don't recognise it at first. Ash, though, hears it clearly.
"Pikachu," mumurs Ash.
"Pika-pi!" comes the call again.
At first it's just a distant, golden light, but it's unmistakable. The energy, the movement, the way the cracks in continuity retreat back into the void. It's him. Pikachu sprints out of eternity and leaps into the air. Ash reaches out, a reflex that bypasses all the chaos and weirdness and darkness in him. And then, in that beautiful moment, as Ash catches Pikachu for the ten-thousandth time...
"Pika... Chuuuuuu!!"
...Pikachu shocks him.
Ash!Ash
You put a hand to your eyes to shield them from the brightness. When you look back, Ash is covered in sooty char, hair frazzled and on end, and gently giving off a faint, black smoke. He looks at you, and then back at Pikachu, still held tightly in his arms, and he laughs. Pikachu laughs too, squealing in joy.
"Wait, what's happening?" you say. "Did I just—? How can—? Was the answer simply to... what, remember Pikachu?"
Ash turns his face to you, and his eyes are bright and full of determination. He's smiling. He even looks a little cocky.
"There's no way I'd ever let my best buddy down," he says. "Me and Pikachu... We always wanna be together. And that's the way it's gotta be!"
He's no brainy STEM professional in his thirties with a mean streak. All he can do to explain this is give an earnest, passionate declaration that only loosely makes any sense at all. But... you get it, don't you? Ash isn't Ash if he isn't with Pikachu. That's not his story.
Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town lets his partner run up onto his shoulder, tugs his hat backwards, and points to the distance.
Only one portal still looks colorful and intact, a shimmering gateway to the world they belong to. Ash Ketchum and Pikachu don't take their eyes off it. They don't look back at you—you're not there any more. How could you have ever been there? (After all, breaking the fourth wall is Team Rocket's thing. Meowth, thaaaaaat's right!)
Ash Ketchum runs forward and hurls himself, and Pikachu with him, back into their own story.
unrepentantAuthor
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