Author: Me, Caraa. Taken from my FF account, copeland.
Rating: T for some language
Genre: Adventure, Tragedy
Chapters: Tenacity, Ferocity, Angst
Shipping: Pokeshipping! AAML<3
Legal Crap: Casey Ketchum and Ethan belong to me, people. Do not use them without permission! Otherwise nothing else belongs to me. Ash and Misty and Brock and Pokemon belong to GameFreak or whatever.
SUMMARY: The year is 2004. Ash gets Misty pregnant. Misty gives birth. The year is 2015. Ash's daughter is now eleven. He has only lived with her for four years. Ash realized he had abandoned his family just as his own father did. Now begins the degradation.
1 - Tenacity
“Okay, Red, come on out and use fire spin on the Spearow! Pidgeot, let’s see how your gust is!”
A lone Spearow sat in the middle of the field, trembling in fear when the trainer called upon her Pokemon. A Vulpix came out of a ball, spewing fire towards the small bird. A Pidgeot flew boldly into the sky right after the flames appeared, creating a tornado-worthy gust with only a flap of a wing. Suddenly, the tall grass surrounding the Spearow was on fire, but the Pokemon itself was not hurt.
“Good! Now, Pidgeot, use twister, and Red, use flamethrower!”
The Spearow was trying to fight the smoke coming from the fire by flying away. When the current of wet wind hit the Vulpix’s flamethrower, though, a sudden humidity came over the small chick. Its wings became soaked in mug hotness and its eyes became enveloped in a cloud of smoke. The Spearow spiraled to the ground, creating a dull thump in the middle of the murkiness.
“Go, Pokeball!” The young trainer threw a ball-like device into the smoke. Confident, she looked down at her Pokemon. “Do you mind fetching that for me, please, Red?”
The Vulpix nodded and disappeared into darkness. Meanwhile, the trainer called out her Crawdaunt and Vileplume. She put them to work. Vileplume put new grass seed down, as Crawdaunt doused the fires. Red emerged from the gases, batting around the Pokeball with the newly caught Spearow inside. The trainer smiled softly, putting the device away and gently petting the Vulpix into a purr.
I played with the Pokeball in my hands. Only a half of a mile longer and I’d be back in town. I hope that Dad won’t be awake. Countless times, my father told me not to touch his Pokemon. They were “experienced enough and are retired, anyway.” Bullcrap. There’s always room for improvement, as Dad always taught me. Pikachu is twelve years older then I, and she’s still getting stronger by the day. I knew the truth, though; he thinks I’m under experienced and that I need more time to develop with my own Pokemon.
My Larvitar, Binge, took down Pidgeot using double-edge once. Red, for example, was one of the strongest and smartest Vulpix I had ever seen. She can create devastating combo-attacks, and without my help. And I can’t forget my beloved Growlithe, Fang. It was a present from my mother when I was eight. He is competitive, strong, and obedient all at the same time. I had trained him secretly for two years, and then I turned ten. I was then enrolled in a school for Pokemon; a pointless gesture, I think. They only taught me what a Pokeball is, how to use it, and the strengths and weaknesses for the different types of Pokemon. I was expelled because I apparently “could have taught the class” if I had wanted, too. I swear I knew more then those teachers. What they taught me was no use in the real world. I had just captured another Pokemon by myself. Auburn, the newly named Spearow. That should prove to Dad that I am more experienced then I look.
I sighed, trading the small Pokeball for another one. I was about to release the Pokemon inside when someone called for me.
“Hey, you! You girl!”
I turned around to see who was yelling. It was a boy a little older then me. He looked familiar. “…Me?”
“Yes, you! Were you the coordinator in the field back there?” I could feel my face flush.
“C-coordinator? I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person,” I said, beginning to walk away when he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back.
“No, it was you. I remember it really well. You are from Viridian. There’s no mistaking the blond hair. Those Pokemon…they have some really amazing combinations. Have you ever thought of the Grande Festival in Hoenn?” He asked me. My expression was blank.
“You have it all wrong, kid. I’m just a trainer. I can’t coordinate anything.”
“Yes you can! I watch you’re Pokemon every morning! They way you made the grass catch fire…and last week, you shattered that Pidgeot’s hyper beam using the Vulpix’s iron tail. I was there! I saw it! You can’t be just a trainer!” He insisted. I didn’t know what to say.
“Okay, look. I’ve seen you around some place, because you look familiar. That’s the only reason I’m going to tell you this,” I began, sighing. “I’m not even a certified trainer, alright? I don’t have a Pokedex or a lot of Pokemon. All I have is a Growlithe, Vulpix, Larvitar, and Spearow. And if I don’t get home soon, I won’t be alive to catch anymore!” I plowed straight through the kid and kept running, homeward bound. He chased after me, calling for me again.
When I reached the gate of Viridian City, the boy was out of breath and struggling to just keep walking. As for me, I was feeling good. I turned around and sent out Fang, hoping that the kid would realize that he wouldn’t want to stalk me anymore.
“Fang, let's show this kid what a fire spin looks like!” I said, giving him the a-OK to char the stalker. The Growlithe opened its mouth, spewing embers to create a ring of fire. The ring danced itself over to the boy, setting him alight. The kid ran in circles, but finally decided to stop, drop, and roll. I giggled, smiling at Fang. I bent down to pet his fur. His body was warm. I stood up and gestured for him to follow.
I looked at my Poketch. It read 7:07. Crap. I blinked to make sure I wasn't seeing things, and began to run back to my house, Fang closely following. I would get up every morning at five, and then return by six-thirty. I didn't think I was going to catch anything, so it took me another fifteen. Five to walk the half a mile, ten to talk to the boy, five to run away, and two to set him on fire. Now it would take me about ten to get back to the house.
On my run, I thought about the boy. His whole face; dark skin, black hair. I'd seen him somewhere before, but where? I wasn't a very social person. I didn't go to many places. I've never been to a Pokemon center, so that rules out the urban part of Viridian. I trained my Pokemon everyday, and even trained against my father's without permission. I've never trained far, though. I always trained between Pallet and Viridian, and never really strayed far. I made sure that I was always right off of Route One when I would trained, so I could make sure the path home was easy.
I arrived at my house. I took a couple breathers to regulate my pulse again, then ran inside the home. Fang jumped in front of me. I was so caught up in watching him run around, I ran into something.
“Good morning, Casey.”
“G-good morning, Dad.”
“I was going to head out for a walk with my Pokemon. Do you want to come? Unless you were just coming back from something. It's alright if you don't.”
“Fang and I just came back from a walk ourselves. I guess another one would be nice,” I smiled, debating whether he was really clueless, or if I was the clueless one.
“I just noticed that your pocket is bulging. Is that more Pokemon that you caught?”
I sighed, realizing that I was the clueless one. I silently grabbed three balls out of my right pant pocket, handing them to my father. “It was only Pidgeot, Vileplume, and Crawdaunt. I needed them in order to accomplish this new combination I made up.”
“Really now. I've never seen any of your combinations. Thinking of becoming a coordinator?”
I clenched my fists. “No. I find that my Pokemon are more powerful if they cooperate with each other. But you wouldn't understand. Cooperation isn't your strong point, is it, Dad?” I was asking for a fight. My Dad was better then to go for it. I didn't care, though; I was just dying for a chance to show him that my coordination training could pay off for battles and not just contests.
He gave me a look. It made me realize that Dad was bare-chested, with only a pair of track pants on. His jet-black hair was rustled into a mat of knotty hair. His look was of disapproval. I knew what he was thinking, but I refused to let it get to me.
“Pikachu and I worked together for more then ten years. We had become champions in every frontier we ever faced. I know cooperation, Casey. You do, too. But do you know competition?” This was his way of challenging me to a battle. I shot him a smirk. Fang, overhearing our conversation, nudged my leg. All across his still young face was determination.
"I'll prove it to you, Dad. I'm ready to go."
"Good," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "If you win, I'll let you go on your journey. If you don't, you will have to stay behind and train yourself for another year.
I faced him with no regrets. "You're on, old man. You are so on."
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