Chapter 12: 'Caught' in a Crisis
Minutes passed quietly. The peace was only broken by the occasional breeze or the soft sound of my fishing line slicing through the water. Then, my fishing rod suddenly jerked violently in my hands.
"I've got something!" I exclaimed, genuine excitement lighting up my face. Finally, something interesting.
Expecting another Water-type Pokémon to emerge, I was shocked when a drenched, disoriented figure came tumbling headfirst out of the water instead, splashing onto the bank right in front of us. To my surprise, it was another trainer, clutching a thoroughly soaked Pikachu.
"Ash?!" Alex, the other trainer, blurted out, sounding genuinely surprised.
I looked at the newcomer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You know this guy?" I asked, a hint of suspicion in my voice. Alex knows… the drowned rat?
"Yeah, uh, we met at Professor Oak's lab," Alex, explained quickly, reaching out to help Ash to his feet. "What happened to you?" Alex asked.
Ash coughed, sputtering out a mouthful of river water, wiping his dripping face with the back of his hand. "It's a long story," he panted, chest heaving, barely able to catch his breath. "But Pikachu's… Pikachu's in bad shape." He gestured weakly to the limp yellow Pokémon clutched in his arms. "I need to get him to a hospital, fast." His voice was tight with panic.
My initial confusion melted into genuine concern, my usual serene demeanor replaced by a focused urgency. "There's a Pokémon Center not too far from here," I said, pointing decisively down the path towards Viridian City. "Route 1, just keep heading that way. You gotta get moving now!" My tone was firm, no-nonsense, all business. Injured Pokémon. Priorities.
Ash scrambled to his feet, cradling Pikachu even closer. "Can you tell me which way do I go?!" he repeated urgently, eyes darting around frantically.
"That way!" I pointed again, more emphatically this time, practically jabbing my finger in the direction of the Pokémon Center.
I watched the drenched trainer scramble to his feet, noticing for the first time what he was actually wearing. He was… surprisingly… determined, even panicked and soaked. He sported a bright red and white baseball cap, perched jauntily on his head even as water streamed down his face. A short-sleeved indigo jacket, now plastered to his thin frame, revealed a glimpse of a white t-shirt underneath. Even those odd green fingerless gloves were present, completing a look that was… strangely put-together, considering he'd just tumbled out of a river. For a newbie trainer in a crisis, he was… surprisingly well-accessorized.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, screeching sound ripped through the air, growing louder, closer with alarming speed.
"They're coming back!" Ash screamed, glancing around wildly, panic etched on his face. His gaze landed, almost desperately, on my parked bike leaning against a nearby tree. Before either of us could even register his intent, Ash's hand shot out, grabbing the handlebars. He practically shoved Pikachu – still limp and unresponsive – into the bike's basket.
"Sorry!" he yelled over his shoulder, a raw edge of desperation in his voice as he hopped onto the seat, wobbling precariously for a moment before righting himself. "I'll bring it back someday, I promise!" And then he was off, pedaling furiously down the path, leaving a spray of mud and bewildered silence in his wake.
I stood frozen for a moment, fishing rod still clutched loosely in my hand, staring after Ash's rapidly receding figure in utter disbelief. My mouth actually gaped open. "Did… did he just… steal my bike?!" I finally managed to sputter, voice rising in incredulous outrage. My bike! Seriously?!
"Uh… yeah," Alex, stammered, sounding slightly nervous. "Yeah, he's… he's in a bit of a rush," he offered lamely. Smooth recovery, beginner. I noted the slightly flustered tone.
My jaw set, my red hair seeming to practically vibrate with indignation. My gaze hardened, fixed with laser focus on the vanishing speck of Ash and my stolen bike. "I will get my bike back," I stated, each word clipped, dangerously calm. "And I'll make sure he knows not to mess with me again." Bike thief. Ketchum. I will remember that name.
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We automatically, almost instinctively, chased after Ash, following the fresh bike tracks and the faint trail along the riverbank. The air grew heavier, a strange, oppressive stillness settling around us, as though something ominous was building. Before long, just as that prickling sense of foreboding reached its peak, we spotted Ash in the distance, but he wasn't pedaling. He was stumbling, struggling, frantically waving his arms, surrounded by a swirling, screeching cloud of angry Spearow. His Pikachu, draped limply over his shoulder, was clearly completely unresponsive now, too weak to even twitch.
"Those Spearow are relentless!" Alex, shouted, adrenaline spiking, already reaching for his Pokéball. "We've gotta help him!"
Without waiting for my verbal response, Alex released his Pidgey into the air. His Pidgey darted forward with a determined cry, wings spread wide, diving straight into the chaotic swarm of Spearow.
"Ace, use Sand Attack!" Alex commanded.
Ace flapped his wings furiously, a blur of motion, sending a concentrated cloud of dirt and sand directly into the eyes of the closest Spearow. The effect was immediate and surprisingly potent. Blinded and disoriented, the Spearow screeched in frustrated fury, their coordinated attacks faltering, their movements growing more erratic as they desperately tried to shake off the stinging sand.
Sand Attack first, I observed, my gaze sharp and assessing, even amidst the chaos of flapping wings and angry screeches. Practical. Disrupts their aerial attacks. I swiftly sent out my Starmie in a flash of light. Efficiency is key. Let's see how he handles this. My Starmie, hovering elegantly above the water, unleashed a series of swift, targeted Water Gun attacks, blasting through the dispersing sand cloud and striking the Spearow with precision. The Pidgey is surprisingly quick. Trainer's commands are… functional. I analyzed the unfolding battle with a critical eye. Adequate, if still unrefined. But… decisive. He reacted fast. The enraged flock to finally broke off their attack and retreated, screeching their frustration to the skies as they scattered. Far more aggressive than usual. Migration related, without a doubt. This is escalating quickly. I considered the larger ecological context with growing concern.
Ash, clearly worn out, panting, and trembling from the ordeal, slumped to his knees for a moment, then scrambled up again, still clutching Pikachu protectively. He didn't even pause to acknowledge our help directly, just grabbed the bike again, almost throwing Pikachu back into the basket. "Thanks!" he yelled vaguely over his shoulder, a breathless, desperate shout. "I'll see you later!" And then, once again, he sped off, wobbling slightly, disappearing rapidly into the hazy distance.
I watched him go, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles were white. "That guy…" I began, voice low, simmering with controlled fury. "I swear, if I don't get my bike back," I repeated, quieter this time, but with an even more ominous undertone, "he is going to regret it." My gaze was fixed on the horizon where Ash had vanished, a storm brewing in my blue eyes. Mark my words, Ketchum. You owe me big time. And… you will be sticking with me until I get that bike back Ketchum.
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End of Chapter 12