Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ The Strength of the Soul ❯ Understanding ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: see prologue

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"So, Renjiro, the big tournament at the Indigo Plateau is coming up, isn't it?"

Thirteen-year-old Renjiro Nanahara swallowed nervously under the penetrating gaze of his father, those ice-blue eyes forever searching for any slight weakness that his son may grant him the opportunity to prey upon. It was always like this, really; ever since he'd become the official 'heir' to the League--and his life as he knew it had ended in one hellish instant--he'd been forced to tread cautiously around his own father, for he knew that his very life often depended upon the correct answer to his queries. "Y-yes, sir."

The Leader said nothing, narrowing his eyes at the slightly trembling boy standing before him in the harsh light of the office's fluorescent bulbs. "And you're prepared, of course," he said flatly, fingering the sharp letter opener upon his desk absently.

"Yes, sir.I've done everything I can to make sure that my Pokemon are in the best possible condition."

The Leader's gaze never wavered. "And?"

"…and I've studied up on strategy. Y-you told me that I should look for an enemy's weakness and 'go for the jugular', remember?"

"Indeed," he responded, a hint of amusement mingling with the underlying sense of malice in his tone. "Renjiro my boy, you are of the utmost importance to me, do you understand that? You are my only son, and as such you are heir to all the power and glory that is mine. And yet you continue to resist me."

Renjiro felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; he knew where this was going…

"Now," the Leader said simply as he pulled open one of the heavy drawers of his desk. "One of my associates has reported to me that you have often been neglecting your studies and spending more time on such frivolous activities as leisure reading and playing outdoors. Is this correct?"

"Y-y-yes, sir, b-but there's a good reason…"

"I did not permit you to speak!" he roared back, flinging the deadly sharp letter opener at the frightened boy and grazing his forehead. He ignored Renjiro's startled cry and extracted the pistol kept within his desk, nestled between a small pack of paper clips and a picture of a smiling man with his wife and son. "Now--" The Leader smiled viciously as he pulled back the hammer and pointed the gun at Renjiro. "--what are you never going to do again, boy?"

Renjiro shakily pressed one hand against his bloodied forehead, nearly fainting at the small pool of red liquid that gathered in his palm. He had been trying so desperately for the past year to go against his father in such inconsequential ways--such as not doing a specifically-ordered homework assignment--but now he was cursing himself mentally for being so pugnacious as to assume that he could resist such power in any real way. As if they would allow such insubordination to go unpunished.

"You'd better answer me, boy," the Leader said dangerously, tightening his finger on the trigger. "Because you'll soon learn that everything is expendable--including you."

"I-I'll never disobey you again, sir!"

Was that his voice? That frightened, submissive, overly-eager squeak was actually coming from him? In the past year Renjiro had sworn to himself never to fully submit to his father's will, even on pain of death. He owed that much to the memory of his mother, to the departed souls of those who had been mercilessly slaughtered on that terrible day in SeijakuTown. But the punishments had become more frequent and more severe, and he soon found himself eyeing longingly the safety that existed within simply giving into the seemingly comfortable lifestyle that would accompany ceasing his resistance.

The time was now at hand. Please forgive me, Mum, Renjiro thought helplessly as he bowed deeply in respect to the man still glaring maliciously at him. But I don't want to die.

The Leader smirked at his son and placed the gun upon the desk. "Well, my boy, it seems like you've finally learned your lesson." He cracked his knuckles and wordlessly struck Renjiro across the face, barely even flinching. "But I'm going to make sure that you continue to make the proper correlation between betrayal and the consequences resulting from it."

And as the blows continued to rain down upon him, Renjiro felt the innocence of his childhood slip further and further away.

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Renjiro silently leaned back in the task chair at the small computer terminal, occasionally casting a glance over his shoulder to ensure that the Pallet Town Hall of Records' clerk was still happily oblivious to his actions. It was a good sign that Ash's birth certificate hadn't already been erased from the database; it meant that the League had decided to keep him in existence, at least for a little while longer.

They had, however, made quite a few interesting alterations as to certain incidents in his past, obviously attempting to further sully his reputation in an attempt to keep the public believing that it was he who had instigated the Viridian City bombings. A speeding ticket from several years earlier had magically transformed into a summons for possession of drug paraphernalia, his membership with the United Trainers' Alliance had somehow been mutated into mafia connections, and a forged police report provided in great detail ways in which Ash Ketchum may have been instrumental into funneling League profits to radical terrorist groups who may or may not have been directly connected to certain mysterious bombings that had occurred over the years.

The League had gone to great lengths to ensure that Ash's reputation was completely destroyed, Renjiro noted with a slightly disturbed frown as he scrolled past another report stating Ash's supposed rendezvous with several area prostitutes. And these 'official reports' were sure to slowly leak through the news nets as the public became more and more suspicious of the man who had once been their hero. It was almost terrifying how methodical and well-organized the League's destruction of a human being could be.

"You've gotta give 'em credit for being smart bastards," Renjiro muttered to himself as the TV within the facility now aired a special news clip outlining Ash's misdeeds over the past five years.

But still, something wasn't quite right. "This part of the plan wasn't even supposed to be put into action until next month," Renjiro noted with a troubled frown as he absently scrolled through a few more documents. True, quite a few things hadn't gone according to plan, and the League had made more than a few alterations to their original scheme; for instance, Ash and Misty weren't even supposed to be alive at this point. Misty was to have taken down Ash, and then Renjiro would have killed her in turn. Investigations would begin as to Ash's 'mysterious' murder, and the League would provide some forged documents alleging that some kind of underground crime ring had conspired to murder their most upstanding employee. Of course, this is when information about the Opposition would undoubtedly come in handy, and Renjiro was certain that the antagonistic organization would be kept alive and well--if only to further the League's own nefarious purposes.

And then things would continue upon the course that they were presently taking; the citizens of Viridian City and the nearby suburbs would thusly be thrown into a panic, wondering if they could be in danger. Everything was now going according to plan, but with some major adjustments. For starters, the Opposition had been destroyed; Ash was now their little scapegoat. And could their objective have also shifted? Had the League detracted from their original purpose?

A stark line of worry creased into Renjiro's forehead as fear began to chill his blood. In the past, he had always been informed of the slightest change to any of the League's master schemes, owing much to the fact that he was both the Leader's son and their highest-ranking assassin. But now…now he had been assigned to such minor tasks as murdering Ash's mother or making sure Misty carried out her assassination of Ash.

Could it be? Renjiro thought worriedly, pressing a hand against the tattooed flesh of his left shoulder. Could it be that…they know what my true purposes are?

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"We've just received an interesting brief from our newsroom; it appears that Ash Ketchum, one of the most respected individuals in recent history and the current Pokemon Master, has just found by police to be the culprit in the disastrous ViridianCitybombings."

Ash distractedly worked the cheap hotel-provided soap into a lather, his mind continually drifting back to that horrible newscast in which he and Misty had discovered that he was now considered the perpetrator of the murders of all those innocents in southern Viridian City. Those same people that he had sought to protect, that he had wept for when he learned of their blood spilled in the name of evil masquerading as good…those same people were now thirsting for his blood as retribution for his apparent misdeeds.

The Leader himself had appeared at a press conference that day. "I cannot even begin to express how thoroughly disgusted and appalled the League is at the discovery that one of our own employees--indeed, we are ashamed to admit, one of our most prestigious members--is guilty of such a heartless and atrocious crime," he had said in that same virtuous, determined voice that had once convinced Ash of the League's true intentions, back when he had first been inducted into their ranks. But that innocence and naivety was a thousand years and a million miles away now, and he scowled angrily at gullibility of the people to believe so strongly such supposedly 'true' intentions.

"Ash Ketchum is now undoubtedly in hiding," the Leader had continued. "But I vow that we at the League will go to whatever lengths necessary in order to capture this young subversive and bring him to justice. Such a person is an absolute abomination, a miserable wretch whose transgressions are punishable only by death."

Ash shut his eyes tightly against the image of the citizens of Viridian City cheering loudly and chanting for his death. He hadn't been the most upstanding of citizens over the last five years, that was true, but did he honestly deserve to have his life wrenched from him in yet another facet of the League's miserable little scheme?

It was then that he remembered just what he had been forced to do as a Pokemon Master. Murders of dignitaries who opposed the League--six of them, he believed. Dealing in arms and weaponry. Procuring illegal substances. Being forced to sit and watch as the Leader and his fellow Council members cavorted with groups of young, terrified women and viciously raped them, often at gunpoint.

Ash pressed one shaky hand against his heart, which had now begun to pound furiously in his chest. It was true; goddamit, it was true! Everything that the Leader had said about him was right! He was a wretch, a bastard, an abomination! By his hand men with loving families and kind smiles had become drenched in their own blood, League assassins had been able to arm themselves with high-powered rifles and fire randomly at schoolchildren within the city, and desperate women with pleading eyes had been used in the most horrific way possible and thrown away as so much refuse. And he hadn't done a damn thing to stop them for fear of retribution against himself or his mother.

Damn it, his mother! Where was she now? Was she even still alive? He'd been so worried about saving his own ass that he hadn't even made sure she was safe. She could've been struck down days ago by the League's own ruthless soldiers, and he wouldn't even know; maybe he'd never know.

Ash fell to his knees within the small shower stall and attempted to dig his nails into the smooth tile of the floor. He'd never felt self-loathing of such intensity, this feeling that someone like him probably deserved to die and that it'd probably just be better if the League caught up with him and sent him straight to Hell. "God, why am I even still alive!?" he cried out bitterly, ignoring the tears now streaming down his cheeks.

"Ash? Honey, are you okay?"

Misty…

She was standing in the doorway, peering worriedly into the room and carrying a fluffy white towel. Her eyes were weary and slightly dim but still held that same spark that had first drawn him to her, and her pale skin was still marred by the cuts and bruises afflicted upon her by Renjiro and the harshness of their lives on the run from the League, but the wounds had slowly begun to heal. "You're taking an awfully long time in the shower," she said in a soft, concerned voice, pulling open the frosted glass door.

Misty…dammit, Misty, get away from me! I--I'm not even worth it! Don't you see, I'm not worth dying for!

Misty's features contorted into a worried frown as she shut off the shower and pulled Ash's soaking wet, trembling form into her arms, ignoring the water quickly saturating her clothes. Even through the rush of water she had seen his tears, her heart clenching painfully at the thought of Ash in a state of anguish. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered soothingly, kissing his forehead and rubbing his back comfortingly. "Is this about that newscast?"

He couldn't find his voice; it seemed as though everything had left him except the horrible, startling revelation that everything the Leader had accused him of was, in some way, completely true. And the realisation that it was only in death that he could repay the world for the evil he had committed.

"You did what you had to do," Misty whispered, stroking his hair soothingly and embracing him more tightly. "I've done unspeakable things, too, and I'm still alive, still carrying on." She sighed and shut her eyes against the memories. "Ash, we're both condemned. The things we've done have pretty much guaranteed us an eternity of damnation. But at the very least, we can try to stop those bastards from putting anyone else through what we had to endure." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and nuzzled him gently. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Ash?"

Somehow, Ash could feel a presence through the pain of his memories. It was warm, comforting…it was almost like a light through the darkness. He could feel a pair of arms lovingly embracing him, hear soothing words being whispered…

"I know that it's hard," Misty continued quietly. "I can't even tell you how many times I've been in exactly the same position you're in now. But I never had anyone to hold me, to tell me that everything would be all right…Ash, no matter what happens, I swear that I'll be right here by your side. I don't care what you've done in the past; you'll always be my Ash."

The hazy light had become even stronger; it was almost overwhelming his anguish and melting away the pain that had become caked around his heart over five years of suffering. Misty…

"And I love you."

"Misty..." he managed to choke out, opening his eyes and staring up at the red-haired beauty still cradling him gently in her arms as they sat in a wet heap upon the bathroom floor. "God, Misty the things I've done…"

"Don't worry," she whispered to him, kissing his forehead and pressing her cheek against his. "I'll always be here for you." She gently captured his lips with hers.

It was almost like a revelation, like some kind of divine intervention. One moment he had felt as though he was dying from the sheer agony of realizing the terrible severity of his past deeds, and the next he was being held by someone who vowed to stay by him in spite of everything. Ash's mind slowly became clear, and all that remained was the reality of the situation. He was being held by the love of his life, kissing her gently…

…and God, he was still completely naked!

A deep blush shot immediately to Ash's cheeks as he realized their position. "Um…uh…ah…Misty, we're, uh--" His mind had apparently once again been robbed of all coherent thought, though he was pretty sure that this time it was due to the fact that most of his blood was now concentrated in another area.

Misty just smiled a little and handed him the towel she had brought with her into the bathroom. "I'm glad you're back to normal," she said with a short laugh, kissing him on the cheek and exiting the room.

Ash just stared after her for a long moment, finally climbing to his feet and wrapping the towel around his waist. Thank you, Misty…for everything.

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"Where to, Mistah?"

Renjiro frowned absently at the taxi driver and simply said, "Western Viridian City."

"Ooh, rough area. You'd better watch yourself, pal."

Renjiro didn't answer but continued to watch the brilliance of the sun setting over Pallet Town as the landscape rushed by, the rolling hills and expansive fields awash in golden hues. It was an absolutely gorgeous scene, almost reminiscent of some bygone days of a simpler time, when the world was still kind and good.

It made Renjiro sick.

His first visit to Pallet Town had been disgustingly peaceful, with cheerful citizens and friendly children greeting him on the street. This little idyll was all the more indicative of the privileged life Ash Ketchum had led.

One more thing, Renjiro thought angrily, clenching his fists, that he has that I've lost.

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"Y-you wanted to see me, sirs?"

Renjiro stood nervously before the shadowy members of the Council seated before him at the long marble table within the dimly-lit hall. This was the first time that he had officially appeared before them; oh, sure, he'd met them all individually before, as they were all important figures within the League, but he'd never been called upon to meet with the Council privately. And he knew exactly why they had summoned him now.

"Renjiro, you pitiful fool!" the Leader said harshly, slamming his fist down upon the table and momentarily startling his comrades. "We have spent over a year putting you through intense training procedures and countless hours of strategic planning, not to mention genetically enhancing your Pokemon so that victory would be all but guaranteed, and this is the result!? Elimination in the first round at the Indigo Plateau!?"

Renjiro winced and felt his body involuntarily begin to shake. In his experiences with the League, every failure--whether his fault or not--was met with harsh blows and the occasional knife wound. But the heir to the League actually failing to place at Indigo Plateau--and not even making it to the second round, for that matter? Renjiro braced himself for the inevitable gunshot; there would be no cheating death this time around.

But the pain did not come. After several moments of waiting for death to strike him down, Renjiro slowly opened his eyes and saw the Council members regarding him curiously. "Wh-what are you waiting for?" he asked, attempting to sound courageous but undermined by the tremor in his voice. "A-aren't you going to kill me for failing you?"

The Leader let out a condescending laugh that was echoed by the other members. "My dear boy," he said in the same patronising tone that had become so familiar to Renjiro over the past year, "you are undoubtedly one of the worst Pokemon trainers that we have ever witnessed. Despite hours of training and specialised courses, you have never improved upon your decidedly weak skills. Some people are just not meant to be trainers, I suppose; you, Renjiro, are most certainly one of them."

"But I can get better!" he cried somewhat desperately, quickly deducting that the League was about to suspend his training. It was the last thing he had left in this hellish world of his, not to mention the dream he had held since he first became a trainer three years earlier.

"I somehow doubt that, Renjiro. Your days as a trainer have come to an end."

"No! You can't!"

The Leader smiled strangely at the desperation in his son's tone. "Why, Renjiro?" he asked, a hint of amusement seeping into his voice. "Why is training so important to you?"

Renjiro sensed the malice in his father's voice and knew full well that he was being soundly mocked but replied anyway. "It's the most important thing to me in the world! Training is--"

"--all you have left," the Leader finished, folding his arms across his chest and smirking patronisingly at his son. "I am well aware of that fact, boy; you have nothing left in this world since I laid waste to what was once our hometown a year ago, do you? Of course, you once had a loving mother, friends, school…you were a normal child, weren't you?"

Renjiro fought back the tears that threatened to fall at the painful reminder of everything that he had lost.

"It took only a second, didn't it? You lost everything you had in this world in that one instant…except the idea that, as my son and the heir to the League, you were guaranteed the position of Pokemon Master when you came of age. That's what's kept you going all this time, hasn't it? The idea that you could hide your pain behind the League's prestige?" The Leader laughed mockingly and pressed a button upon a small console to his right. "Unfortunately for you, my boy, things have changed considerably. You are no longer the next Pokemon Master."

Renjiro watched in horror as a large screen on the opposite side of the room now showed a video of a young trainer just about his age battling virtuously through the Indigo Plateau and the Orange Islands, the reel spliced with a few shots of the boy caring for his Pokemon and smiling at the camera. This boy, he thought numbly, is going to have everything I was promised?

"His name," the Leader said to Renjiro, switching off the video, "is Ash Ketchum, from PalletTownin Kanto."

Ash Ketchum?Renjiro's mind froze at the name. He vaguely remembered it from a time, long, long ago, when he had just been a toddler, maybe three years old, but what was the significance of…

Renjiro's breath caught in his throat as he turned his horrified gaze back to his father. "No!" he shouted in a disbelieving voice. "Not him! No, father, you can't give the only thing I have to him!"

The Leader continued to smile at the pain in his young son's eyes. "I'm glad that you remember, Renjiro," he said simply. "It wouldn't be nearly as rewarding a situation had you not."

"But, father," Renjiro said in a choked voice as he watched his dreams disappear before his very eyes. "Y-you promised…"

The Leader simply extracted a gun from within the folds of his robe and fired a shot into his son's arm. As Renjiro cried out from the pain of the wound and pressed a hand to the smoldering flesh, he smiled and said, "You should really get used to disappointments, boy."

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"Mr. Nanahara? Mr. Nanahara! Sir!"

The Leader reclined in the cushy office chair as his gaze swept across the crowded room, scores of reporters clamoring for his attention at this newly-announced press conference. "Now, ladies and gentlemen," he said in that same patient, reassuring voice that had swayed so many to place their trust in him, "I assure you that the League is doing absolutely everything in its power to find and capture Ash Ketchum. There is no cause for…immediate alarm."

He had to suppress a smirk at the worried murmurs rising through the crowd at that. "But I would like to warn the public," he said seriously, "that new documents have surfaced linking Ash Ketchum with a radical terrorist group calling themselves 'the Opposition'. The people involved with this group are godless, malevolent, and wholly evil, and they have no true aim other than to destroy the upstanding and moral League."

"Mr. Nanahara," one reporter began, rising from his seat and extending the microphone attached to his small tape recorder, "are you saying that there is an immediate threat against the League, as dictated by this group--'the Opposition', I believe you said?"

"Indeed," the Leader responded. "I am sure that you are all aware of how instrumental the League has been in protecting the safety and well-being of the citizens of Viridian City, not to mention the entire nation. The individuals within the Opposition gave aid and comfort to Ash Ketchum, who we now know to be a criminal of the most despicable kind. It is thus they who indirectly helped to destroy the southern part of Viridian City." His voice lowered into a more comforting tone. "Now, I must say to the traumatized citizens of Viridian City that we will not let this tragedy go unpunished. We at the League will not stop until the perpetrators have been apprehended and brought to justice.

"And to the citizens of the world over, I must now say that we have reached a turning point. Until now, there have been those who regarded the League neither with kindness nor ill will; however, recent events have dictated that there must now be no middle ground. A war is about to erupt between the forces of good and evil, and neutrality is not an option. So, good citizens, you must ask yourselves: are you with us, or are you with the terrorists?"

A loud cheer sounded throughout the room as the members of the press climbed to their feet and began to applaud wildly. Several scribbled furiously in notepads, and the Leader was certain that in a few hours a rallying cry would rise up throughout Kanto as the citizens, still in shock from the horror of the Viridian City bombings, blindly rushed to support the League's cause. It was so comforting to see that such gullibility still existed in the world. Such trusting little sheep, the Leader thought with a smile as he was led out of the room by his entourage.

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That night, Ash lay motionless in the narrow bed, his eyes open and fixated upon a water stain on the ceiling. Misty was curled up against his side, one arm draped across his chest, and normally he would have been comforted and warmed by her presence. But now he could only think of the anguish and pain he had felt earlier as he realised that he had been instrumental in bringing about countless individuals' suffering.

Misty had managed to stave it off for a bit, and he was eternally grateful for the loving acceptance that emanated from her. However, she could only ease his pain temporarily, and the guilt and self-loathing had returned with a vengeance.

And she noticed. Misty tilted her head up and regarded him strangely, a questioning look held within her eyes. "Hey, why aren't you trying to get some sleep? We've got to spend some time strategizing tomorrow."

"Does it even matter?" Ash responded irritably, flipping over onto his side and effectively turning his back to her. "I'm going to be dead soon anyway now that the League's effectively hunting me down. They've even got the public supporting 'em."

Misty remained silent for a moment, then placed one hand tentatively upon his shoulder. "Ash? Have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?" Ash said grumpily, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting like the petulant child he often was.

"I'm dead."

A chill ran up his spine at the simplicity of her statement, and he flipped back over to stare at her with wide, frightened eyes.

Misty laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "Not literally, you idiot, but I was supposedly killed five years ago. As far as the world's concerned, I'm dead and buried. There's a tombstone in the Cerulean City graveyard with my name on it. It's a really horrible feeling, knowing that you don't even exist to more than a small handful of people." She snuggled against his chest. "You're right; there's a good chance that we won't survive. But there's also a chance that we will. If you just look at the negative side of everything, you'll just be more convinced that you're doomed. I learned that the hard way. But for now, why don't we just enjoy the time that we do have and not worry about death until it's here?"

Ash regarded Misty quizzically, hardly believing that the smiling, optimistic Misty curled up next to him was the same person as the fatalistic, depressed, broken woman who had saved him from the League's assassin days ago and been reduced to tears at the slightest mention of her past. "Misty?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you suddenly so…bright? And almost…cheerful?"

"I don't know," she responded sleepily, nuzzling his chest. "You always really screw with my emotions."

Ash could have cried with relief at the realisation that somehow, the Misty he had fallen in love with all those years ago had returned--with an attitude, yes, but that was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. She had saved him--physically, mentally, and emotionally--from everything that had threatened to consume him, she had stood by him no matter what danger lay ahead, and she had vowed to die with him if need be. So this is that 'undying, all-encompassing love' thing I've heard so much about… he thought with a small smile, wrapping his arms around her. God, Misty, I don't know where I'd be without you…

And then a thought occurred to him. It was so completely ridiculous, so inconceivable that Ash couldn't even believe he was considering it. We're going to die together, he reminded himself with a frown. There's no way in hell that you could ever…

Oh, shut up, he thought to the negativity of his subconscious mind. Yeah, we're probably not going to survive this, but… He rested his chin against the top of Misty's head. …if we do, I know that I want to… "Misty?"

"Mm…" she mumbled sleepily, snuggling in closer.

"Mist, wake up for a sec."

Misty yawned loudly and stretched her thin limbs, then stared up at him with wide, sleep-filled eyes.

"Listen to me," Ash said seriously, holding her by the shoulders and taking a deep breath. "Misty, if we survive, it's not going to be easy. If you choose to stay with me, you're putting yourself at a hell of a risk even being seen with a wanted criminal. And I know that the odds of us getting out of this are alive are slim to none, but…if we survive, I want…" He paused and took another deep breath, then stared deeply into her eyes. "I want you to marry me."

He shut his eyes and waited for the inevitable slap, but instead of a resounding 'smack' his ears were met with the sound of soft laughter. Before he had even opened his eyes, he felt Misty's soft lips upon his own, then heard her whisper, "Idiot. Like you even had to ask."

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"Hmm…interesting.The boy's now ranked as one of the top fifty trainers in Kanto. Quite an accomplishment."

Renjiro, now fourteen years old, watched helplessly from his position on the sofa as his father continued to page through a stack of documents detailing Ash Ketchum's accomplishments as a trainer over the past year. He had been doing this constantly; it was almost as if the bastard was purposely rubbing salt into Renjiro's still-open wounds concerning the fact that he would never achieve his dream of becoming a Pokemon Master.

"Let's see…hmm…taking into account different championships, and factoring in road travel and such…I'd say that the boy should be ready for induction when he's about seventeen. That sounds like a good age to become a Master, don't you think so, Renjiro m'boy?"

"Wonderful," Renjiro said sarcastically, slumping a little further into his seat.

The Leader looked up slowly from his work and smiled at his son. "Oh, by the way, Renjiro," he remarked casually. "I've also made a few changes in my will. Ash Ketchum, as the next Pokemon Master, is now my true heir, and thus the heir to the League. He's a much more deserving boy, don't you think?" He smirked and folded his hands. "Looks like that whole mess with your mother a few years back wasn't really necessary, huh? Oh well."

His innocence was gone. His childhood had been stolen. His mother had been killed. He had been forced to become a tool for the League. Renjiro shook with silent anger and pressed his hand against the flesh of his left shoulder, still throbbing from the pain of the tattoo they had forced upon him the day before. Everything had been stolen from him, and now even his inheritance had been given to that…that…bastard, Ash Ketchum. It was too much for him to bear.

Renjiro scowled and rapidly clenched and unclenched his fists. Just you wait, Ketchum, he thought angrily. One day, I'll make you pay for everything you've done to me.

And with that deadly promise, the last shred of his purity disappeared.

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The overpowering stench of cigarette smoke and vomit assaulted Renjiro's senses as he stepped into the small, dimly-lit bar, carefully sidestepping a drunkard who had passed out on the threshold. This was the kind of dive that was found only in Western Viridian City…or possibly the ninth circle of hell. Hazy smoke drifted by the dim bulb suspended over the rickety pool table, and bar stools lay broken and scattered, evidence of an earlier fight within the pub. Apart from the bartender who suspiciously eyed Renjiro as he slowly polished a dingy glass, the only other patrons within the room were a group of muscled, tattooed, leather-clad men laughing loudly over some obscene joke in the back corner.

Renjiro approached them silently, his boots crunching the splintered wood and broken glass along his path. The raucous men grew silent as they observed the darkly handsome man standing before them, a loaded gun held dangerously in his gloved right hand. "I have a job for you," he said simply.

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The hotel room was silent as Ash and Misty lay in each other's arms, finally asleep after a long, heartfelt discussion that had lasted most of the night. A thin beam of moonlight stretched across the floor and illuminated a stretch of carpet.

The door creaked loudly as the boorish man forced his way into the room, cutting through the thick locks. He silently cast a glance around in the darkness, then knelt by the bed, retrieved a small box from his waist, and extracted a syringe filled with a clear liquid from it. Stopping only to ensure that the young man was asleep, he injected the liquid into the young woman's pale neck, then flung her over his shoulder and stole off into the night.

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