I never thought I'd wake up like this.
One moment, I was drifting off to sleep, and the next, I found myself in a room filled with colorful posters of Pokémon. The vibrant images of Pikachu, Charizard, and Bulbasaur surrounded me, each one a reminder of a world I had long admired. I blinked a few times, trying to grasp the reality of my surroundings.
This room—it was unmistakably Ash Ketchum's. The cluttered desk, trophies gleaming in the sunlight, and toys scattered on the floor felt familiar yet surreal.
The air carried the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies, filling me with nostalgia. I sat up, confusion washing over me as I tried to piece together how I had ended up here.
I looked down at my small hands—chubby and childlike. A strange sensation washed over me. I was Ash Ketchum. It didn't feel right, though. I wasn't supposed to be here. My name was Noir.
I let out a slow breath, steadying my thoughts. Noir. Calm, collected, always in control—that was who I was. My real name, my real life, was slipping away. But why did it matter? I had been alone for most of it anyway.
My mind drifted back to a time long before this confusion. After my parents died in a plane accident, I was left with nothing but my memories and my grandfather's wealth. He had cared for me, but all the money in the world couldn't fill the emptiness left behind. It didn't ease the grief.
Until!! video games, though—they became my escape. I remember the first time I played Pokémon, how it captivated me and gave me a new sense of purpose.
I completed every mainline game, even diving deep into GBA hacks and fangames. The world of Pokémon, the strategies, the lore—I mastered them all. It helped me bury the pain, made me feel alive in a way my real life couldn't.
And now, somehow, I wasn't just playing. I was inside the world of Pokémon. The thought would have excited me once, but now it only confused me. How could I, Noir, become Ash Ketchum? It felt like a piece of a puzzle that didn't quite fit.
"Okay, just breathe," I murmured to myself, a habit I picked up long ago. Breathe, focus, analyze. I had been through worse. I needed to make sense of this, even if it seemed impossible.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. That's when I noticed something even more unusual—I was small, much smaller than I had been before.
My body was no longer that of a grown man but of a five-year-old child. The realization hit hard. I wasn't just Ash Ketchum. I was Ash at the very beginning of his journey, just five years old.
Outside, I could hear children laughing and playing, their carefree voices drifting through the window. For a moment, I wanted to go outside, join them, feel that joy. But I didn't. I wasn't ready.
Let's see what this world has in store for me, I thought, pushing the door open. The sounds of laughter grew louder, but my focus was sharp.
I had to stay calm. I stepped into the hallway, noticing pictures on the walls—images of Ash's past adventures. The memories were familiar, but they weren't mine. Not yet.
The wooden steps creaked beneath me as I walked downstairs, sunlight spilling through the house, beckoning me toward the world outside. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Outside, children ran through the streets, their laughter filling the air. Pokémon flitted between trees and bushes, their presence making the world feel alive. It was like stepping into one of the games I had mastered, but now it was all real.
A group of children played with Poké Balls, pretending to catch Pokémon. Before I could think too much about it, one of them noticed me.
"Hey! Look, it's Ash!" a child shouted, excitement lighting up his face.
I froze, my mind spinning. Did they really know me? Or was it just this body, this version of Ash? I hesitated, unsure how to react.
"Come on! We're catching imaginary Pokémon! You should play with us!" another child called out, waving me over.
I shook my head slightly, instinctively retreating into my calm, controlled mindset. "No, thanks. I just want to be outside for a bit," I said, trying to sound casual. I had learned long ago that sometimes, distance was the only way to find peace.
That's when I noticed him—Gary Oak, Professor Oak's grandson. His smirk was all too familiar. "What's wrong, Ash? Afraid you can't catch any Pokémon?" he taunted, his voice laced with challenge.
A wave of irritation surged through me, but I quickly pushed it down. There was no use getting worked up. Gary was just a kid, and I had dealt with worse. I looked toward the horizon, finding peace in the trees swaying gently in the breeze.
Instead of engaging, I found a small patch of grass and sat down, letting the world around me fade into the background. I closed my eyes, grounding myself.
This was a new world, and I couldn't let the noise overwhelm me.
After a few moments, I opened my eyes, feeling more at peace. Rising to my feet, I made my way back toward the house. As I approached, I saw her—my mother. Or rather, Ash's mother.
She was tall, beautiful, and wore a simple dress. Her brown hair cascaded softly over her shoulders, and the sunlight framed her in a warm glow. For a moment, I was frozen again, not with confusion this time, but disbelief.
How had I forgotten about her in all this?
Delia Ketchum stood at the door, her expression gentle, though tinged with confusion.
"Ash? Are you alright, honey?" she asked, stepping toward me, her voice full of concern.
I didn't respond immediately, too caught up in my own thoughts. My real mother—my real life—had been distant for so long. And now, here was this woman, Delia, who seemed to care so deeply about Ash, about me.
"Ash?" she repeated, her voice softer, more concerned.
Still, I couldn't answer. I just stood there, dazed and lost in thought.
Delia, seeing that I wasn't responding, walked toward me and gently pulled me into a hug. The moment her arms wrapped around me, I felt a warmth I hadn't expected. The emotions hit me like a wave, and before I knew it, tears streamed down my face. The confusion, the disbelief—it all melted away in the safety of her embrace.
I was really Ash Ketchum.