Ash's Arc

Chapter 5 of 14

The woman's message sat cold in Ash's chest, but the battle came first. She led him out back to a dirt ring against the rocks. His fire pig stood beside him, sides still heaving from old fights. The yellow mouse drooped on his shoulder. Both were worn thin, and neither had faced a real gym battle. Ash knelt and pressed a hand to the pig's back. "One more," he whispered. "Then we rest." A man stepped into the ring. He wore a dusty coat and no smile. "You want a badge," he said. "Beat one of mine." He tossed a Poké Ball. A blue creature unfolded from the light, calm and seated, its pale head crest smooth. It opened one eye and studied the pig. "A Meditite," the man said. "Focused. Patient. It won't tire like yours." Ash chose the pig. It trotted forward on shaky legs, ember tail flickering low. The Meditite raised its guard. "Ember," Ash called. The pig spat fire. The Meditite slid aside and struck fast, a palm to the pig's jaw. The pig skidded back and nearly fell. It looked to Ash, breath ragged, eyes asking if he still believed. "I know you're tired," Ash said. "I'm not asking for perfect. I'm asking for now." The pig planted its feet. When the Meditite lunged again, Ash yelled, "Turn into it." The pig twisted and caught the strike on its shoulder. Then it loosed fire point-blank. The blaze washed over the Meditite, which crumpled and did not rise. The man stared. "That pig had nothing left," he said. He drew a small badge from his coat and set it in Ash's palm. "You believe in a broken thing. That's rare." Ash closed his fingers around the badge. His hands shook, same as when he'd signed the form. His first badge. The arc had cracked open one inch wider. He carried the pig and the mouse to shade near an old, weathered tree. Its bark had grown into the shape of a hound, sad-eyed, branches for legs, moss on its snout. Ash sat against it and let his two Pokémon breathe. "We did it," he told them. The mouse nuzzled his cheek. The pig slept. A shadow crossed the dirt. Ash looked up. At the ring's edge stood a sleek white beast, sabertooth fangs like blades, icy blue lines running down its coat. Cold air rolled off it. Behind it walked a figure Ash could not see clearly, hood pulled low. The beast's owner. The one who had left the message. "You won," the figure said. "Good. I don't want a weak opponent." The white beast lowered its head, and frost spread across the ground toward Ash's sleeping Pokémon. Ash rose, badge still in his fist, his team too spent to fight again. He had gained his first win and lost his one chance to rest. The stranger had come to collect.