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Breathe in, breathe out.
Each breath tore through Austin's chest like sandpaper, sharp and unforgiving. His lungs screamed, his heart pounded against his ribs like a drum, and his legs… his legs felt like they were made of lead. Every muscle burned with raw, searing pain, but he couldn't stop—not with the bloodthirsty flock of Spearow screeching behind him.
He forced himself to remember his brother's advice: "Stay light on your feet. Lean forward. Don't lock your knees."
But it was hard to remember anything coherent when terror was thrumming through his veins, drowning out any sense of control. He stumbled, and a sudden, sharp pain exploded at the back of his head—white-hot and blinding—as a Spearow dove down and struck him. He nearly collapsed, but adrenaline surged through him, sparking every nerve to keep moving, keep surviving.
The pain in his skull barely registered compared to the fear—pure, gut-wrenching terror lodged itself like a stone in his stomach. These Spearow weren't going to stop. They didn't care about mercy, didn't care that he was just a kid. They were relentless. His legs felt like they'd give out any second, but he pushed through it, lungs burning, the air tearing at his throat with each gasping breath.
"Pikachu, get in your Pokéball!" he gasped, his voice barely a choked whisper of desperation.
"Pi?!"
"Listen to me," he begged, twisting his backpack to shield his head from another dive. "I'm not going to let you get hurt!" The thought of Pikachu taking a single hit from those razor-sharp beaks and talons made his stomach churn.
But then, a darker thought slammed into him, harder than any Spearow ever could. Was this my fault? The question gnawed at him, ugly and insistent. Did catching that lone Spearow set the rest of them off? Or… or is this just Ash's fate? Maybe no matter what I do, this is how it always goes.
The doubt tangled into his fear, making his heartbeat trip over itself. He barely had a chance to wrestle with the thought before he realized Pikachu wasn't beside him anymore.
"Pika—!" The defiant cry reached his ears, and his heart plummeted. He spun around, stumbling to a stop, and saw Pikachu standing his ground, tiny body tensed, sparks crackling across his cheeks, ready to take on the entire flock alone.
"No, Pikachu!" Austin's voice broke as he fumbled with Pikachu's Pokéball, his hands trembling. He aimed and shot out the red beam just as Pikachu fired a thundershock, recalling the small Pokémon before he could launch into a losing battle. As Pikachu disappeared into the safety of the ball, the residual shock stunned a few of the Spearow, momentarily dropping them from the sky.
A brief flash of relief flooded Austin, but it was fleeting. The rest of the flock was still hurtling toward him, closing in fast.
He stood there, gasping, every muscle trembling, his skin buzzing with leftover adrenaline. He had maybe a second to catch his breath, maybe two—but he knew that wouldn't be enough. His mind raced, searching frantically for a plan, but the beat of wings drawing closer snapped him back to the present.
Misty. She should be nearby. I need to find her. I need help, he thought, clutching Pikachu's Pokéball in a death grip.
Good. I have a plan, he told himself, ignoring the relentless pounding in his chest. Now, if there's a god out there… give me some luck.
He swung his bag up over his head, using it as a flimsy shield as he sprinted forward, hoping it'd at least soften the blows from those vicious beaks and claws. Each step was a desperate gamble, his legs numb, but he pushed forward, refusing to look back at the screeching flock. All he could do was cling to his plan and pray it'd be enough.
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Misty Waterflower didn't consider herself a patient girl. Never had been. In fact, she was pretty much the opposite—more of a firecracker. Kinda ironic, given her dream of becoming a water-type Pokémon specialist. Water was supposed to be calm, cool, flowing. But her? She was more like a stormy sea—unpredictable and restless.
The sun warmed her face as she pedaled through the grasslands, the breeze teasing her hair in a way that was almost calming. Pidgeys darted overhead, and unseen critters rustled in the tall grass, but none of it really held her attention. She had other things on her mind.
She pulled up beside a river and checked her Pokétch, its dot-matrix screen blinking as it confirmed her location. This was the spot. Out here in the wide-open Kanto region, she was on her own quest—proving herself worthy of taking over the Cerulean Gym.
Of course, League missions kept getting in the way. Today's task? Deal with some annoying Spearow. Necessary? Sure. Annoying? Absolutely.
Misty sighed, muttering under her breath, "I'll deal with those pesky flying types later." Right now, she had something better in mind. Fishing. Adding a new water-type to her team sounded like a much better use of her time.
She reached for her fishing rod, her mood brightening at the thought of snagging a new catch, but just as she was about to cast her line, she heard a distant squawk. It was deep, loud, and definitely not the peaceful sound of a nearby river. She turned, eyes narrowing, and that's when she saw him.
A boy. Sprinting toward her like his life depended on it, his backpack thrown haphazardly over his head for protection while he clutched a violently shaking Pokéball in his hands. She blinked, staring in disbelief as he ran, panic written all over his face. He was in trouble, that much was obvious. But then their eyes met, and there was something in his gaze—recognition. Like he knew her. What the hell? She'd never seen this guy before in her life, yet he looked at her like she was some long-lost friend. Or maybe a lifeline.
Before she could even process it, he shouted, "I have an electric type! Can you release your water type?!"
Wait, what?
Misty blinked, confused, but instinct kicked in. She didn't have time to ask questions. Her hand flew to her Pokéball, and with a swift motion, she released Starmie. Her trusted partner appeared, its red jewel core gleaming, spinning in readiness for battle. Starmie and Misty were always in sync—no words needed.
The boy stumbled to her side, gasping for breath. He released his Pikachu, who looked absolutely furious. The situation was bad. She could tell from the swarm of Spearow in the distance, diving like little demons. This wasn't just a few peckish birds; this was an all-out attack.
"Wide Water Pulse!" she commanded. Starmie spun in the air, sending out a massive spray of water. The Spearow, mid-flight, were drenched, their wings suddenly too heavy to stay airborne. As they plummeted to the ground, squawking in confusion, she couldn't help the rush of adrenaline that surged through her. Gotcha.
"Now, Pikachu!"
Pikachu didn't need to be told twice. With a fierce spark, it unleashed a Thundershock on the soaked Spearow, and Misty watched as the entire flock was incapacitated in seconds. The battle was over before she even had time to really take it in.
For a moment, everything was still. Her heart pounded, the rush of the fight still buzzing in her veins. Then she turned to look at the boy and his Pikachu, expecting some sort of triumphant reunion.
Instead, Pikachu was glaring at him, growling low. There was no happiness, no pride. Just… anger.
The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Hey! Don't give me that look. I returned you to your Pokéball for your safety."
Pikachu huffed, turning away, clearly not having any of it. Misty raised an eyebrow, watching the exchange, her curiosity piqued. What's their deal?
And then the boy muttered under his breath, "Stupid fat rat."
It was in the heat of the moment, but the damage was done.
"Oh no," Misty muttered to herself, wincing before she even saw Pikachu's reaction. Sparks crackled dangerously on its cheeks, tiny bolts snapping in the air like a mini lightning storm ready to fry the boy where he stood. Typical electric type—short fuse, especially when insulted. This was about to go from bad to worse.
She saw the fear in his eyes as he glanced at Pikachu, clearly realizing the depth of his mistake. He looked desperate, almost like he was silently begging her for help.
"Excuse me," Misty said firmly, stepping in to break the tense silence. She kept her voice calm, hoping to defuse the situation before Pikachu decided to roast him alive. "Can you tell me what happened here?"
The boy turned to her, half-relieved, half-defeated. "I… yeah, I guess," he said, glancing nervously at Pikachu as he started explaining the whole ordeal—the chase, the swarm of Spearow, his panicked sprint through the fields. Misty listened, nodding along, eyebrows raising at certain details. He looked worn out, like he'd been running for his life.
When he finally finished, she gave a slow nod. "Sounds like you've had a rough day."
"That's… putting it mildly," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.
Misty extended a hand. "My name's Misty, by the way."
"Austin," he replied reflexively, shaking her hand.
Misty blinked, eyebrows lifting. "Austin?"
He froze. Oh, crap, what did I just say? Panic hit him. I was supposed to be Ash. Not Austin! He swallowed hard, trying to recover.
"Uh… yeah," he stammered, keeping his face neutral. Smooth. Real smooth, genius.
Misty tilted her head, her gaze curious. "So… how do you know me?"
Austin's heart skipped a beat. He tried to look casual, shrugging as he forced himself to hold her gaze. "Well, I recognized someone who could save my life," he replied with a lopsided grin.
Misty squinted, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but she gave a small nod. "Fair enough," she muttered. But she wasn't done with her questions. "And how'd you know I had water types?"
Austin opened his mouth, realizing he didn't have a good excuse. His gaze drifted, looking for anything that might help him. "Uh… the fishing rod," he blurted, pointing at it.
Misty arched an eyebrow, a half-smile forming. "Because I'm fishing, you assumed I had water types?"
He tried to play it cool, grinning sheepishly. "I mean, wouldn't you? Besides, who wouldn't keep a water type near rivers?"
She chuckled. "Alright, good save." Her gaze lingered on him, something familiar but strange. "You're… interesting, kid."
"Interesting?" he feigned offense. "I'm interesting enough to attract a whole flock of angry Spearow. I'll take that as a compliment."
She shook her head, smirking. "Sure, let's call it that."
Pikachu, still glaring, let out an exasperated huff, the sparks on its cheeks dimming.
Misty crossed her arms, studying the boy. "So, Austin… what are you planning next? Because, by the look of things, it doesn't seem like you're prepared for temperamental Pokémon."
He gave a wry smile, scratching his head. "Well, since you saved me, maybe I'll consider some… backup. Got any tips?"
"Plenty," Misty said with a grin. "And the first one? Keep your Pokémon happy." She glanced at Pikachu. "Next time, try skipping the insults."
Austin chuckled nervously. "Yeah… noted." He looked at Pikachu, offering a tentative smile. "Sorry, buddy."
Pikachu huffed again, but its gaze softened slightly.
Misty punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You'll learn. Just don't get yourself fried before you do."
"Don't worry," he replied, smirking. "I'm not tender enough to get fried just yet."
Misty snorted, rolling her eyes. She tapped a few buttons on her Pokétch, and he raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Pretty sweet gadget," he said, trying to get a better look. "What is it?"
"This?" Misty's voice took on a proud edge. "It's a Pokétch. Sinnoh tech. Cost me a small fortune."
Nice going, Austin, he thought, cringing. Way to pop her bubble.
"What's with the call?"
"League's got a relocation team," she said, glancing at him. "They'll move the Spearow flock somewhere safe."
"Good idea. They were out for blood."
Misty raised an eyebrow. "Not the first time I've dealt with angry flying types. People throw Pokéballs at anything."
He chuckled, rubbing his neck. "Yeah…"
She finished the call, glancing at him. "So, anything else I can help you with? Or are you just going to keep running headfirst into trouble?"
"Actually," he said, trying to sound casual, "which way to Viridian City?"
Misty pointed. "Just follow this road. Can't miss it."
"Thanks." He hesitated, feeling awkward. "And… thanks for saving me and Pikachu. Couldn't have handled those Spearow without you."
"No problem." She smiled. "Don't beat yourself up. It's your first day. You and Pikachu just need time to figure each other out."
Austin blinked, surprised by the warmth in her tone. This Misty was… different. Sweeter than he remembered.
"Thanks."
Austin glanced at Pikachu, who was glaring at a bush as if daring it to move. "Yeah, I'll work on that," he muttered. "Hey, Pikachu—you ready to go?"
"Pika," Pikachu replied flatly, but willing to move on.
Austin let out a breath. "Alright. Let's go."
As he passed Misty's bike leaning against a tree, something clicked. Wait… I didn't fry her bike. In the anime, Ash had barbecued her bike, which led to her tagging along. But here? The bike was untouched. Misty had no reason to stick around.
It felt strange, like he'd dodged some important moment. Guess it's just me and Pikachu, he thought, a pang of uncertainty hitting him as he turned to keep walking.
Behind him, he could still feel Misty's presence, like a shadow lingering just out of reach, the ghost of something that should have been. This world was familiar, yet off-kilter in a way that set him on edge. Every step felt like a new direction, like he was rewriting a journey that was supposed to be set in stone.
And he had no idea where it was going to lead.
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Ho-Oh soared gracefully through the skies, its feathers shimmering in a breathtaking array of colors. The predominant gold and red hues of its body gleamed under the sunlight, complemented by the vibrant yellow of its tail feathers and the stark white of its underside. At the tips of its wings, green feathers added a striking contrast, while a green stripe adorned its neck, enhancing its regal appearance.
The legendary Pokémon's piercing red eyes, encircled by black rings, reflected a wise and ancient soul. Atop its head, a feathered yellow crest waved like a flag as it glided through the sky. Ho-Oh glanced downward, its gaze falling on a human and a Pikachu watching in awe from the ground below. For a moment, a thought crossed its mind: Something has happened to your chosen, Arceus. Is this according to your will?
Down below, Austin's gaze lifted as the golden bird soared across the sky, its feathers gleaming with every color of the spectrum, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the landscape. The memory of that iconic first encounter hit Austin like a wave—Ash had seen Ho-Oh on his first day too. But here, experiencing it firsthand, the reality of it was… overwhelming. It felt like something out of a legend made real, its beauty almost too much to take in.
For a long moment, he just stood there, watching the Legendary Pokémon vanish beyond the horizon, his heart pounding. When he finally tore his eyes away, he looked down at Pikachu, who was still staring up, visibly shaken by the sight.
Austin took a deep breath and knelt in front of Pikachu, holding his Pokéball in one hand, his gaze cast down. The weight of everything—the uncertainty, the fear, the responsibility—settled heavily on his shoulders, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the little yellow Pokémon watching him intently.
"So, Pikachu," he began softly, looking up at his partner. "A deal's a deal. Do you want to keep going with me, or… do you want to go your own way?" He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so vulnerable, but it was there, raw and open. The question hung in the air, and he could feel his heart pounding as he waited.
Pikachu's eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Pika?" He tilted his head, ears twitching as if trying to understand.
Austin forced himself to keep his voice steady. "I mean it. I don't want you to feel like you're stuck with me if you don't want to be." His words were quiet, almost lost in the stillness of the forest around them. He tried to offer Pikachu a small, reassuring smile, but he could feel the uncertainty beneath it. If you want to go… I'll let you.
Pikachu stared at him, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes thoughtful. There was something there—an interest, a curiosity that Austin hadn't seen before. Like Pikachu was sizing him up, weighing his words, deciding if this strange new trainer was worth sticking around for.
After a moment, Pikachu gave a small, firm nod. Not a full, enthusiastic commitment, but a cautious willingness to stay, for now. To see what might come next.
Austin felt a wave of relief wash over him, mixed with a strange, fierce gratitude. He knelt a little lower, gripping the Pokéball tightly as he looked Pikachu in the eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick. "I… I don't know what I'm doing, honestly. I don't know what it really means to be a Pokémon Trainer, and I don't know what the future looks like for us."
He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. "But I promise… I'll give it everything I've got. I don't know much, but I'm not going to quit on you, Pikachu."
Pikachu's gaze softened, just a bit. He wasn't giving Austin blind loyalty, and Austin could see that clearly. But there was an understanding between them now, a quiet acceptance. Pikachu nodded again, and Austin could feel the beginnings of trust, fragile but real.
They stayed there for a moment, just looking at each other, and Austin felt something shift. Something he hadn't expected. This wasn't just a trainer and his Pokémon; this was a partnership, a connection he hadn't thought he'd feel so soon.
"Alright," Austin said softly, pushing himself back up to his feet. He slipped the Pokéball back into his bag and gave Pikachu a small, determined smile. "Let's see where this goes. Together."