Author's Note: What used to be the premise for a shipping fic has evolved into A New World Order, an epic journey fic starring Ash Ketchum as he discovers how much of the past is influencing the present and how far he must push himself to save the future.

Prologue

"Game over!" his driven adversary roars.

"For you!" the youth retorts, his weapon clashing over and over with his foe's in a fearsome battle. Gradually, his strikes become overpowered by the other's incremental assault, the fear of his awaiting peril serving as a much needed adrenaline rush. Picking up his pace, the boy maneuvers through the shifting sands of a silent beach, blocking blows with gaining speed. "How can you kill me when you can't catch up to me?"

Yet, as fate would have it, a sharp branch comes across the boy's path. To his joy, he is able to sidestep the obstacle, but it leaves him wide open for his foe to knock his weapon from his hand, which flies several feet away. Before the boy could blink, he finds himself lying on the sand with a menacing sword mere inches from his pulsing throat.

"Prepare to die!" the victor cackles as he lifts his sword for the final strike. The boy quivers in fear, sweat dripping on sand, until—

Slash!

"I win again!" the foe rejoices, ruffling his short, violet hair, sand particles flying about like silicate fireworks.

"You got lucky that time!" the boy whines.

"You say that every time, Ash," his friend teases, then extends his hand to the boy, who's lying right next to his upright, wooden toy sword. "I gotcha, buddy."

After a moment's hesitation, the boy accepts his friend's help. Once he's pulled back up, Ash urges, "Come on, Paul! I just need one more time to beat you." He pulls on the wooden sword and raises it in a battle stance.

"But doesn't your dad want you home early?" Paul queries.

Ash takes in his surroundings. The sun casts its gleaming light over the tranquil beach bordering crystal clear waters, where not a single wave crashes onto the pearlescent shore, its sand whiter than ivory, and softer than cotton.

"I have time for one more," the lad grins. In the next second, Paul leaps like a cub for his friend's sword as the two youngsters reengage in their competitive horseplaying. Pokémon Island in whole vibrates with an abundance of life, be it human, plant, avian, or anything in between. Only the volcanic mountain, which has remained dormant longer than folks can remember, lacks any and all forms of creatures. Not a single cloud floats in the sky on this fine summer midafternoon, and not a single evidence of trouble or danger could be found on the coast.

After parting from his closest friend at a time nearing sunset, Ash, shivering from his wet trousers, returns to his home, a petite yet welcoming residence located in a private section of island. After cautiously sneaking into the front door, he tiptoes slyly into the living room, his bedroom within reach, when the lights flicker on.

"Young man, you're old enough to know how late it is!"

Ash, alarmed by the scolding, turns to see an older man whose hair and features almost resemble his own.

"I'm s-sorry, Father," the frightened boy whimpers. "I was having so much fun with Paul, and I lost track of—"

"This is the second time this week you have done this, Ash!" His father, donning a black night-robe, crosses his arms. "I knew that kid would be a bad influence for you. He is no excuse for you to be ignoring your curfew! Besides, what about your studies? What about learning your culture? Doesn't that matter to you?!"

He continues to lecture his son, who's heard this all before, yet remains stricken with fear as he awaits his punishment—that is, until a delicately figured lady in a similarly styled white night-robe and carnation slippers slides into the room. At first she appears half-awake and yawns, but then the woman widens her eyes at the sight of the little boy's presence.

"Oh, sweetie, you're safe," she cries with relief. "That was all I had prayed for tonight. Thank the heavens our Deity answered my call." Still talking to her son, she reaches for the cabinets to pull out a bowl and eating utensils. "Tell me, Ash, are you hungry? Would you like some leftover pasta?"

"Now is not the time, Delilah," Ash's father protests.

The woman objects, "That's nonsense, Aaron. You can punish him as you wish tomorrow. It is the middle of the night and our son looks like he hasn't eaten since lunch."

She embraces her child warmly, but is taken back by his cold, wet skin. "And he's freezing! Sweetie, you prepare yourself a bath to clean up in." She hunches over her child and adds in a motherly tenor, "Then when you're squeaky clean, I'll serve you some of Mommy's special soup that'll warm you up really nicely."

Ash politely nods and, after hugging both of his parents, carries on to the bathroom. Before Aaron can interject, Delilah swiftly nags, "Now honestly, Aaron. Ash is just a child; he was only having fun with a friend. He's never going to learn the lessons you wish to teach him if his home doesn't provide for him a nurturing and patient environment. It's like my mother says: affection breeds cooperation."

"I understand, Delilah," Aaron affirms, his arms still crossed, "but come on! He's already eight years old, and if he's ever to be your successor to the Oak lineage, then he needs to be showing adequate signs of responsibility by now." He stares at the bathroom door, solemnly admitting, "I don't want my only child to live a life of regret because he failed to realize his destiny."

Delilah grabs her husband's shoulders and kisses him on the cheek, which calms his temperament. She warmly insists, "I will always respect the toughness you show our son, honey. Frankly, I cannot do it by myself, and I think it will help him grow into a wonderful man."

Aaron looks at her with suspicion—for he has not one a single argument against his wife since their matrimonial commitment—which she addresses, "But just remember one thing: you cannot see his destiny. The path fate has chosen for Ash will be revealed to him, and only to him, when the time is right."

Aaron finally shrugs the argument off with a heavy sigh of defeat, kisses his loving wife on the lips, and strolls away into their bedroom. "I knew I married the smartest woman in the island," he chuckles. "But tell me, does your wisdom end here, or does it apply elsewhere?" He suggestively raises a brow, motioning towards the bedroom.

His alluring wife softly covers her lips with her arm, giggling, "Oh, hush, you. Maybe after Ash has gone to bed. But I had a long day at the village so no guarantees."

After her husband leaves the kitchen, Delilah strolls to the front of the house, looking out the window at the starry sky, which shines the brightest in that corner of the island, imagining that the celestial bodies paint a picture for her son's righteous destiny.

"Oh, my dear Ash," Delilah whispers to herself. "I know the Deity has incredible plans for you. I hope I am there to see them to come to life."

She returns to reality at the distant sound of a young boy energetically splashing water in the bathroom, which forces a smile by her feminine lips. But before Delilah can retire to the kitchen to prepare her son's meal, a strange light suddenly yet briefly emanates from the volcano, catching her attention. Her peaceful expression transitions into one with great worry.

"It's fine," she halfheartedly reassures herself. "Yet another thing not to be handled until the morning, I suppose."

==:==:==:==:==

At the summit of that volcano, a shadowy man shrouded from head to toe in a dark, emanating aura scouts the foreign island from his towering view. His entire body is silhouetted by the foreboding energy that permeates his being, all except for a hint of white created by a smile at the corner of his crooked mouth.

"At last…" he roars, his aura enshrouding the area like a cancer, triggering his arms to tremble under its influence. "My power…my destiny…I have found you."

1. A Powerful Start

Several civilians walk along a street on this casual Monday lunch rush, the sun shining directly over it as the time approaches noon. Stores and stands line up the sidewalks from end to end. A queue of people impatiently await entrance into the popular fan and air conditioning store on this warm summer day, with several water vendors hovering around them. Then, a couple of children run across the road, their father chasing after them with a smoothie in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. A truck abruptly breaks in front of them, luckily avoiding a vehicular manslaughter case, the driver shaking his fist angrily at the brats. In short, downtown Pokémon Island is hustling and bustling like it always does this time of day.

As the trucker and father argue aggressively, for what seems to be about everything except for the children at this point, a teenager skillfully skates right past them, the wind of his speed knocking the trucker's poorly installed toupee off the top of his head. Three larger teens follow pursuit on foot, accidentally shoving the father's smoothie onto his collared, pit-stained shirt. The skater turns around for a brief second, amused at the gaining distance between the ruffians and himself. His spiky, jet black hair and cap defy physics and remain intact as he makes a sharp turn around a corner, almost colliding with a bench but hopping over it just in time. After a few blocks, he stops his board in front of a salon and looks at his hand, which is holding a thin, silk scarf. He twists his open-gloved hands to relax his weary wrists until the ringing of the salon's door opening causes him to fix his gaze on the beauty that just came outside.

Her hair was short and brunette, but it grew elegantly down to her shoulders. Her pearl white smile, even whiter than her smooth, enticing complexion, beamed when she saw the scarf. "Ash!" she cheers. "You did it! My grandmother's heirloom!" The girl accepts her delivery from the timid boy and goes on to joke, "You know, you would make a great superhero if the island ever needed one."

Ash blushes, momentarily turning away from the girl, the sun's rays striking down on his tan skin and sleeveless jacket. "You know, May," he starts, "I don't see the point of you going to this salon every week. Your hair looks the same each time."

May smiles, appropriately choosing to take her friend's comment as a compliment. "Okay, so you got my scarf back from those creeps. That means, like we agreed, I owe you whatever you want." She pivots her foot on the ground. "What will it be?"

Ash shoots a smile back because, for the first time in a while, he knows exactly what he wants.

==:==:==:==:==

In a nearly empty diner, a hostess files her nails, bored at the lack of business to seat. The only noises that can be heard are the sound of the sizzling frying pan from the open kitchen, and the mastication of a fleet of BBQ wings coming from a booth by the window. The spiky-haired boy, himself, is gnawing at the bones as May looks on with near disgust.

"Do you have to eat like that, Ash?" May questions with a look of discomfort. "It's not like we're going anywhere anytime soon." He doesn't respond but looks up, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, after a dot of barbecue sauce splashes onto her face. He stares at her with puppy dog eyes, implying to her his feeling of guilt since his mouth is too busy at the moment to voice it. She simply laughs it off, wiping the sauce with a handkerchief and filled with joy to finally spend some time with her dearest friend.

"Actually," Ash informs after processing all the meat down his throat, "I have to visit my grandmother today," he rolls his eyes, "among other things."

May grabs a napkin on the table from its dispenser and draws out a pen from her purse. She practices her penmanship on the paper, as she does periodically every day. At the same time, she comments, "I gotta say I was surprised when you asked for all that chicken. Does your family not practice Meatless Monday anymore?"

Ash also reaches for a napkin, but instead uses it to wipe his sauce-covered cheeks. "Aww, come on, May. You know I don't follow that Deity nonsense. It's not like any of the other kids around here do it."

"I kinda like the idea of a deity," May confesses, crossing her t's and i's with her pen. "I wish my family had some kind of long-lasting culture I could participate in."

Ash sourly retorts, "Your family's religion is money." The girl rolls her eyes at this. "It's true. Your family worships it like mine worships Arceus. But unlike your 'faith', mine is purposeless. I mean, what's the point of dedicating so much time to some godly Pokémon if Pokémon haven't been around for centuries?"

May's natural smile transitions into a disappointed frown. Ash, once against guilty over his actions, croaks, "I mean, it's not like I'm anti-Arceus, y'know…I'm just not a strict follower, is all."

The girl sighs, unconvinced, and resumes her calligraphy. Ash decides to try once more to persuade her that his view is acceptable. "Trust me," he proclaims. "Not following religion doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, and following it doesn't necessarily make you a good one."

May shrugs her shoulders, clearly tired of this conversation, and resumes her penmanship. At this point, Ash decides to inquire about something that has been on his mind, "So why didn't you ask your boyfriend to retrieve the scarf for you?"

May's pen almost slips out of her hand. She looks up, cheeks redder than a fire hydrant, and nervously stammers, "Oh, uhh…I meant to, but he told me he was busy before I could ask…So I turned to you…my dear friend." She grins, only this time it doesn't feel quite sincere.

It was no secret that May's boyfriend was not on top of Ash's list of friends, prompting the teen to interrogate the girl. "What was he doing, if you don't mind me asking?"

May expectedly gulps, to which Ash chortles. "He, uhh…" She looks down with embarrassment, ultimately coming out with it. "He was playing water polo."

Ash breaks into laughter. "Water polo?" he teases. "Not cricket? Or badminton?"

"He plays those on the weekends!" May shouts, feeling silly about it immediately afterwards. "He's, uhh, a good guy and all," she declares, trying to coax Ash as well as herself. "Yeah, he really cares about me, too. And he gets along with my parents, which I guess is a plus."

Naturally, Ash takes the guy to be a joke, scoffing, "Correction: his money gets along with your parent's money." May crosses her arms, obviously unamused. He nonetheless goes on, "But hey, people tend to get along when they follow the same religion." She sighs, clearly aware of how hard she's being teased. Ash doesn't stop there, however, querying, "What about Paul?"

"Huh?" May says confusedly. "What about Paul?"

"Why didn't you ask him for help today? You know he's stronger than me. You hang out with him just as much as with me. Heck, the three of us hang out at the tower every Friday. There's gotta be a good reason why you asked me over him."

May stares into space to search for the answer. "Oh…I, umm…" But then she looks at Ash, who has actually been gazing into her eyes the whole time for a while. "I guess… I asked you, because I asked you. You came into my mind before he did. I can't give you an explanation for it. I'm sorry."

Ash, stunned by her explanation, or lack thereof, looks out the window of their booth to avoid his rising emotions. Although there's nothing interesting outside, he just can't face May right now. His palms begin to sweat, his heart races, as they usually tend to do after prolonged exposure to the sweet girl. Eventually, he dejectedly suggests, "I can give you a reason… You were probably worried about the record he's been building at the police station, and you knew I'd handle it nonviolently."

May looks at the opposite direction, towards the diner's cook greasing the frying pan in the open kitchen, a bit disappointed. "Yeah… you're probably right, Ash."

The two remain awkwardly silent, until Ash sees a black limousine pull up at the diner, and a trio of girls exiting it and striding towards the entrance of the diner. "Hey, May?" Ash questions, "Aren't those your friends coming here?"

May, surprised by that enquiry, looks out the window with widened eyes and witnesses the girls, who are dressed from head to heels in designer clothing, checking the soles of their shoes for "concrete germs" and their teeth for caviar stains. She sighs, then smiles nervously. "Oh boy! I didn't expect them to come here."

Ash begins to grin, like he did before when he was making fun of May's boyfriend. "What is it that they call themselves again?"

"Don't. Say it."

"The Gal Pals?" he says anyway. May bangs her head onto the table while Ash squeezes his stomach in laughter.

The sweet socialite stands up and yells, "I'm not the one who named us! They just started calling themselves that! I have never supported it!" Before she can continue her outburst, however, the front door is opened forcefully. The girls, marching inside, shrill like banshees when they see May and flock to her like geese. The hostess doesn't even bother to seat them and continues to file her nails. May answers their gathering, "Oh…my…gosh! Like, hey, girls! I am so happy to see you all!"

The towering, lanky one of the trio replies, "May, what are the odds that we run into to you at the place my daddy's buying?" After hugging the girl, she immediately notices the skater in the sleeveless jacket, black T-shirt and biker gloves, and actually snorts in disgust. "Like, eww!" she whines, "what is this thing doing here at your booth?"

The shorter, stout girl chimes in, "Gee, I didn't think the stuff they served here would be this grimy."

The girls snicker like hyenas, but before May can defend her friend, Ash interrupts, "I was actually about to leave. My grandmother won't wait for me forever." He stands up, grabs his board, and bids farewell to May, who's sad to see him go. But before she knows it, he's already out the door.

The third-girl, whose dark skin and muscular build resembles that of an amazon, asks May, "Honestly, darling, why do you even associate yourself with that indigenous imbecile?"

May, wanting more than nothing to bite her head off, succumbs to her classy upbringing and offers a more peaceful answer. "He was the only friend I made when I moved here, girls. He was so full of life… And besides, after his mother died, I have felt to this day that I need to return the favor."

==:==:==:==:==

Ash rides his skateboard as if he has nowhere to go. Contrary to what he wanted the girls to believe, the malicious treatment he receives from the Gal Pals always sends his mind on a whirl, to the point where he starts to overanalyze his friendship with May, past and present. He reminisces the old days, when they were both eight years old, and they would race over and over on the monkey bars until someone surrendered from fatigue, which they would follow with seesawing and just plain talking. On the days that May would receive her allowance—which was every other day—she would use some of it to purchase ice cream for Ash and herself. Sometimes Paul would tag along, and they'd all end the day by watching the sunset from the top of the Pokémon Island Official Bank tower.

Nowadays, May's popularity has skyrocketed to the point where she is mostly around her blueblood boyfriend and superficial clique of friends. She tells me that we're still as close as when we were young, Ash wonders, but so much has changed in both of our lives, and Paul's. Maybe we're all just kidding ourselves.

Deep in thought, Ash is about to skate past an alleyway…when a troublesome foot pops out and makes contact with his shin, launching the teen off his board so that he lands face first on the sidewalk. He turns his body over so he can learn the identity of this careless person, but that same foot firmly stomps onto his chest, causing the poor teen to gag, and rendering him immobile.

Ash's vision clears and he finds on top of him a roughneck youth with even spikier hair than his own, a black collared shirt—the collar pointed upwards—and a purple necklace adorning his muscular neck. A scar travels down from his upper arm to the beginning of the lower half, signifying the struggles he's endured as a townie. He sneers, "You didn't think you could get away from us, Ashie, did ya?" Two goons enter the scene, emerging from the dark alleyway and sniggering at their leader's taunts.

"Gary…" Ash mutters, "That was… May's scarf… Let me go."

Gary presses harder onto Ash's chest, prompting him to cry in pain. "Nobody tells Gary what to do!" He recollects his composure and shows off his crooked smile. "You see, that's the good part of having no family to hold me back. I can do what I want and I got my buds to back me up." He pauses, his stooges grunting in agreement, and then his smile fades away. "So if some spoiled little rich girl can live without some dumb scarf, I see no reason why I don't have the right to snatch it for myself and sell it to a greedy little pawn shop. Us townies gotta pay the bills, Ashie. And that's something you don't understand 's'long as you keep piggybacking off your daddy's lame-o tribe."

Ash struggles to free himself from his foe's lock, and then slams his fists on the ground when he realizes he cannot. The goons continue to deride his failed attempts. "Okay, scholar boy," Gary mocks, "lecture time is over. Time for some punishment."

"Couldn't have said it better, myself, punk."

Gary, shocked by such bold opposition, turns around to see a tall, muscularly defined teen, with dark violet hair down to his shoulders, wearing nothing but a sleeveless jacket, ripped jeans, and old sneakers, beating the living daylights out of the goons with a metal rod that outspreads past his wingspan. Within seconds, the grunts are unconscious on the ground.

Gary chides, "You think you're so tough, Paulie? No way can you hold your own without that dumb stick o' yours."

"For what should've been the last time years ago after I beat it into you," his foe utters, "the name is Paul. And if that's the way you feel," he compresses his adjustable rod, dropping it on the ground, "I'll clobber you with my bare fists, chump."

Momentarily distracted by Paul's overwhelming confidence and intimidating physique, Gary loosens his hold on Ash, allowing the boy to twist his enemy's foot and shove the thug off balance so that he lands on his head, instantaneously knocked out by the impact of the concrete. Paul, who was rearing to fight, relaxes his defined muscles and reaches for his rod in disappointment. "You know," he boasts, "I had the guy. Why take the fun away from me?"

He extends his hand to Ash, who, after a moment's hesitation, accepts his friend's help and brushes the dust off his clothes while rubbing his aching chest. "I know, big guy," the spiky-haired lad reassures. "Your pretty little abs speak for themselves. Besides, I know you can't afford another strike." He snickers at his pal's choice of attire, which clearly lacks a shirt. "You've never been the type to show off. What, did you run out of laundry detergent?"

"As a matter of fact, I did, smart guy," Paul retaliates playfully. "It was either wash a load or eat supper, and I figured, it being summer and all, my stomach wouldn't rumble in pain and I could get a decent tan." He pats his buddy on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

Ash jokes, "Not today, sunshine. I don't have time for the candy store."

"Haha, it's cute when you try, kid. But I know you're going to Lady Oak's. I'll escort you there, since you're so defenseless and all." He grabs Ash's head and rubs the top of it with his rock-hard fists.

The younger of the duo straps his skateboard on his back and comments, "Yeah, I'm sure it has nothing to do with her good cooking," and follows his friend to his grandmother's home. On the way, trivial matters come into conversation, like scheduling a date for the beach, how boring their respective summers have been thus far, etc.

Finally, Paul mentions their long-term goals. "It's too bad, Ash. If we had a way of ditching Pokémon Island this summer, then we wouldn't have to go through any more boring ones."

Ash, who has spoken with Paul since they were children about taking a trip away from the island, has recently grown hesitant about it. He reminisces aloud, "I remember back in the old days when it was just the two of us." Paul nods at this. "Then after May moved here eight years ago, we eventually included her in the plan. How cool was it that she was all for it…?"

Paul senses his best friend's tone as they turn around the corner, where the city has ended and an uphill hike awaits them. "You don't think she'll come with us?"

Ash is silent for a moment, but after the urging of his friend, explains, "I dunno, Paul. She's so much busier now. She's practically got her own life—which her parents run tighter than a bus schedule."

Paul confidently hypothesizes, "Ash, when are you gonna see that it's all part of how she was raised? May is by far the coolest girl we've ever known, but sadly she comes from the most narrow-minded, stuck up parents this island has ever had. Of course, now that she's older, they're gonna manipulate her schedule to keep her busy enough from some native deity worshipper like you and a homeless townie like me." Ash turns away and observes the fresh blades of grass sprouting on the hill, almost feeling jealous about the simplicity that comes with being a plant. He knows Paul is slightly ashamed of his life, even though he'd never admit it. "One of these days," the older one, taller teen continues, "May will detach herself from her family."

"What makes you so sure?" Ash wonders skeptically.

Paul briefly pauses his hike, his spiky-haired friend almost tripping on his heels. "You and I both did it. She can, too."

Ash expresses doubt on his face. Paul looks to the clear sky for something to say, ultimately proclaiming, "She will realize she's too great to be her parents' daughter, and her boyfriend's girlfriend…she'll realize that she needs a tough man in her life—the kind of man who has withstood all the odds and has provided for himself."

Aware of Paul's feelings about May since they were just kids, Ash has always preferred to stray away from this subject. "You're only sixteen, Paul—barely a man," he quips, almost laughing aloud but stopping himself when he realizes that Paul didn't hear it.

"You, me, and dear May," the townie proposes, continuing his hike, with Ash trailing behind. "We all come from messed up families, but a true family is made up of the people in your innermost circle of trust." Ash nods his head, agreeing with Paul's philosophical statement. When Paul wasn't struggling to make ends meet or roughhousing, he was reading inspirational text that got him by in life. "We'll be our own family… together. But for now, let's visit your grandmother."

==:==:==:==:==

At the top of the hill, Ash gazes at his surroundings, a peaceful village full of huts and merry children, not at all like the downtown district. Shortly in front of him, a wooden sign reads "OAK TRIBE." A large, crimson red tent stands proudly behind the sign, and its regal decorations indicate that the chief of the village lives here.

Before the teens can enter it, an old, plump, yet fit woman steps out of the hut, donning a sacred robe that climbs up to her neck and sweeps gracefully to the tongs of her sandals. Within a few observant seconds, she addresses them, "I see you boys have been roughhousing again. And Paul, how nice to of you to 'escort' Ash to my home. I shall fix up some soup for you and my grandson, and also donate to you a shirt."

Paul politely replies, "Thank you for you generosity, Lady Oak, but that's not needed. My clothes will be washed by tomorrow and I'll pick out something from there."

"I understand," the lady concludes. "In the meantime, I cannot have you looking like this, so I will gladly lend you some proper clothing." She completes this offer with a loving smile, and, combined with the wisdom in her wrinkled face, her gray hair neatly combed and tied back, and her absolute poise, Paul could not resist. "Now, come inside, the both of you."

…

By the time the townie has found a shirt to fit his body and his style, Lady Oak's soup is finished and accordingly served on her ancient rug on the floor—a mere two yards from the stove—where everyone gathers to eat. Ash, who normally jumps at the opportunity to inhale one of his grandmother's meals, hesitantly takes in a spoonful of the broth.

"I hope you do not mind that it is just noodles today, Paul," the woman informs. "As you know, the tribes of Pokémon Island practice Meatless Monday as a way to show faith to our Deity."

Paul, presenting his well-mannered side, insists, "I will never be ungrateful for your boundless hospitality, Lady Oak. If you are to allow it, I would further appreciate another bowl of your fine cooking."

Still speaking to Paul, Lady Oak turns to her grandson and remarks, "You could ask Ash for his serving, Paul. He seems to still be full after all the chicken he ate today."

Ash almost spits out his food and exclaims, "You know about the chicken?!"

Lady Oak chortles, her sacred garments flapping. She tells the boy, "I can detect the scent of Lou's BBQ Wings like a bloodhound, my dear grandchild." She then recollects herself and continues speaking to her ashamed grandson. "I am well aware that you are not the most religious member of the tribe, my dear boy. Now, I still have hope for you, but I will not push you into our ways."

Ash mutters, "If only Father could be the same way." Lady Oak shakes her head in disapproval. "I'm sorry, Grandmother…I just wish I lived with you instead of him."

"I know what you want, dear," she voices, "and while you are already fifteen, that is still not old enough to know what you need." She pauses to take a sip of the soup but resumes without losing her rhythm. "When your mother passed on, it left a damaging hole in your family that, after seven years, has yet to be mended."

"You can blame him for that, Grandmother," Ash scoffs, referring to his father. Paul stops slurping his dinner in order to more attentively observe the conversation, anticipating words of wisdom from Lady Oak.

"You are a wonderful boy, Ash," she resumes. "Your father is also a wonderful man. Did I ever tell you how he broke the pattern forged by our island's history when he abandoned his own tribe to assume life here at Oak?"

Ash groans, but Paul stares with awe. "I've heard that story a thousand times, Grandmother. Traditionally, a newlywed couple moves in with the husband's tribe, but Father decided to move here with Mother because he thought it was the best option. Eventually, the Fir tribe accepted Father's decision and the tradition was no longer upholded."

"Well this is all new and fascinating to me," Paul interjects. "Could you please continue, Lady Oak?"

"Of course, Paul," she states. "As Ash knows, the Oak Tribe has always been the strongest tribe of the island. And as you likely know by now, Paul, we were chosen by our Deity to withhold peace on the island, until it is His time to return to us again."

"I think I remember Ash telling me that when we were kids," Paul nods, and then looks at Ash, "you know, before he lost interest in the subject." Ash derisively blows air throw his nose at his friend's brownnosing.

Lady Oak continues, "Yes, of course… but over the years he has learnt more about his history, and I doubt he has shared it all with you. For example, did Ash explain to you how the power of the Oak Tribe is controlled by the lineage of the chief?" Paul shakes his head from side to side with a blank stare. "My husband was long ago responsible for this power, along with my husband's father, going as far back to the day our Deity departed from his grateful disciples."

Paul, stunned by this information, turns to Ash. "So that means… Ash… you're…"

"I'm nothing," the Oak relative sourly interjects. "Just a kid who rides a board and goes to school, not much different from anyone else."

"For now, my boy," says Lady Oak ominously, "but the time will come for you to realize your potential." She takes another sip of her soup. "Your mother was my only child, for I became barren shortly after her birth—which meant your grandfather had no choice but to instill his birthright into Delilah, the first female heir to the power of the Deity."

Ash moans, "I know, Grandmother. And before Mother passed away, she instilled it onto me—not that I've tapped into it."

"Because you do not wish to tap into it," the elderly woman accuses. "You do not study Pokémon history like a scholar. You do not know the ways of our people." Ash skulks, but this does not cause his grandmother to lose her spirit. "And this is where the conflict arises. Your father changed history by leaving his tribe so that his child could be destined for greatness and you refuse to acknowledge that sacrifice for what it is. He was always keeping you in mind, my boy—before you were even conceived."

The Lady takes one last sip, and serenely concludes, "Now, I see that you are different from the other members of our tribe. What you must learn is to accept your culture and embrace it—not by abandoning the culture you've adapted into, but by combining both into a single, hybridized lifestyle. And what your father needs to learn is to accept the differences you possess from the tribe—not as a deficit to your potential, but as a means to do something unprecedented with your gift. Only by resolving these issues can the two of you co-exist without the need for your mother to balance you."

Ash merely stares at his soup, barely touched, and offers no argument. His grandmother is the wisest person he has ever known, and she is, for the most part, the only authority figure he feels he can turn to. Anything he says will neither prove her wrong nor come out respectfully.

After a period of silence that felt like an eternity, Paul asks, "So exactly what kind of power is this?"

"Spiritual power," Lady Oak begins. "One with such power, if guided by faith, can connect with other life forms, ward off evil, and purify the most corrupt darkness." Once again, Paul is in awe. "In our time of peace, the chief's lineage has been predominantly responsible for keeping peace within the island between all of the tribes. As of late, it has become a more taxing job, what with the secluded wealthy and homeless folk inhabiting this place."

Paul, almost annoyed by Ash's indifference, confronts him. "I just don't get it, Ash. If I had that kind of power, I'd tap so far into it that I would hit oil—metaphorically speaking, of course."

Ash, who has always been uncomfortable about the subject of his tradition, merely shrugs. "Power isn't everything, y'know, Paul?"

Paul fiercely slams his fist on the rug, spilling some of his broth on it. Lady Oak, bearing the patience of a monk, makes no mention of the mess.

"Power is everything, you fool!" Paul rants. "Power is these rich egomaniacs owning most of the island's land! Power is the deforestation problem that's moving the tribes into reservations so more of the moneybags can settle down in this 'economic goldmine!' Power is the reason I've slept the last three nights on top of a damn dumpster! Because power threw my father in prison! And power sent my mother spiraling into drug addiction! Power took my home away from me, Ash!"

Paul breathes heavily, then glances at Lady Oak, who still remains motionless. He mutters, "Nobody understands power except those who control it and those who are hit hardest by it… One day, I will succeed in getting such power." He whips his hair back, giving his forehead, which has accumulated much sweat, space to breathe. "I read somewhere that a confident individual with ambitious goals will ultimately realize their goals. It also helps if he doesn't have much to lose…because that means nothing will stop me from realizing my destiny—the destiny that I've declared for myself… And I've decided to be destined for power—enough power to change this island for the better—but I'll never get that power unless I leave this dump and go somewhere with real opportunity."

Lady Oak, still conveying the same countenance since Paul spilled his soup, waits to make certain that the troubled youth has finished, which he has, until she gives her own input.

"What you described was not power…this—what you speak of—is greed…bitterness…and vengeance."

Shamed by the woman over the way he reacted, Paul stares down heavily, past the floor, into nothingness.

Lady Oak resumes, "True power is the ability to accept the faults of everyone, including your own, and contributing your talents to improving the situation, not the people involved in it. People come in all shapes and colors, my boy, which is one of the most magnificent marvels the world has to offer. It is indeed quite a powerful thing to move past the issues that hold you back from happiness and to dedicate your life to laughter and joy—for yourself and for everyone connected to you." Lady Oak chuckles, and says to herself, yet loud enough for Ash and Paul to hear, "The elders of all the tribes say Delilah, my very own daughter, was better at this than anyone they can remember. I like to think so, too."

Ash, left speechless by two of the closest people in his own life, decides there is purely nothing left to say, except, "Thank you for your hospitality, Grandmother." He rises to his feet. "I should really be going now."

"My dear boy, have you forgotten so soon?" Lady Oak inquires, who also stands, leaving a motionless Paul on the floor to himself. "I called you here for a gift."

She slowly walks to her dresser on the other side of the hut and opens the first drawer, placing her hand in it. When it comes out, a shiny necklace with a round piece is wrapped around it. "This pendant," she says as she makes her way to Ash, "was worn by your mother every Sunday for ceremony. I passed it down to her from my own tribe… I now bestow it to you, so that you can wear it for today." Ash looks away, refusing to accept the gift. "Ash, I would like for you to wear it when you visit your mother's tomb today…We both know that today marks seven years since her passing."

"I know, Grandmother," Ash replies, "just like I know that Father will be there waiting for me."

"Yes he will, and he will be so happy to see you wearing that pendant in her honor."

Before she can further attempt to convince him, a man from the tribe enters the hut in a state of tension. "Lady Oak," he exclaims, "Poca has gone into labor unexpectedly! We require your wisdom to see to a healthy birth."

"I understand," Lady Oak affirms. She turns to Ash again. "Do you understand, my boy?" she reaches her arm out, the pendant hanging by a finger.

Ash, succumbing to his grandmother's wishes, quavers, "I understand, Grandmother." He grabs the pendant, allowing his grandmother exit the hut so she can tend to the matters of the village.

Paul finally stands up, his soup in hand, and explains, "I'm gonna clean up this mess. You go on without me, buddy. Besides, you and your father probably need the alone time."

Ash nods, then grabs his shoes, straps his skateboard on his back, and walks out the hut. While strolling down the hill, the sky beginning to turn red, the blades of grass rustling in the strengthening wind, the boy speaks solemnly to himself. "I understand…I understand that no one understands. My father and I…we just can't co-exist." Ash grabs the skateboard from his back and rides it down the hill and back into the downtown region. But instead of making a right turn to his home, he makes a left, seemingly on his way to Petalburg Manor.

That's it for the beginning. Sorry for all the exposition, but stay tuned for Chapter 2, as it wraps up all the character intros and jumps straight into the madness! You've been warned.

Please feel free to comment or ask any questions!

Q4U: What do you expect Ash to find in the prestigious Petalburg Manor? Why is he going there?