The sky had gone quiet.
Just the low hum of cicadas and the rustle of leaves in the wind filled the stillness around me. The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the white-stone walls of our house. I stood barefoot in the grass, feeling the last of the day's warmth soaking into the earth beneath me.
Tomorrow, I'd be gone.
New York. Aunt Freya. A whole new chapter waiting to be written.
But before that…
"I've got room for one more," I murmured, slipping the ritual ring onto my finger. The cool metal pulsed faintly—warm and familiar now after all this time. Six partners already stood with me. But the seventh… the seventh would mark something different.
A step into the unknown.
I took a breath and closed my eyes, focusing inward—into the rhythm of my Aura, now so deeply woven into who I was it moved with my heartbeat.
I raised my hand and spoke the words:
"Beyond the skies, through the folds of dimension,where Arceus dreams the world awake—I reach for the one who stirs beside me.In truth and bond—I choose you."
The ring flared.
A sharp crack of light broke through the space in front of me like a lightning bolt cleaving the air. Grass flattened in a circle as the wind kicked up, swirling with shimmering specks of silver and gold.
I felt it—like always—the connection snapping into place.
A pulse from that place. The realm where they waited. Watched.
The place that had always felt like a part of me, long before I understood why.
And then… the light condensed.
A small shape tumbled out from the center of the summoning ring—crashing to the ground in a heap of smoke and spark.
When it cleared—
I blinked.
It was… a Larvitar.
Small, squat, green. Tough scales and red eyes. A frown that somehow seemed permanent.
It looked up at me… and scowled.
And then—
Thud.
It headbutted my shin.
"…Ow."
Pikachu, who'd been perched quietly on my shoulder, let out a surprised snort before laughing with a crackle of sparks. I winced and knelt down.
The Larvitar tilted its head, then walked over and pressed its stubby body against my leg.
"Alright," I whispered, running a hand along its rocky back. "So, that's the kind of partner you are."
Its tail flicked once. Hard. And it grunted in what I guessed was… agreement?
I smiled.
"Welcome to the team."
The backyard still shimmered faintly with the lingering glow of the summoning ritual. The air was cool, crickets chirping somewhere in the tall grass. Above us, stars blinked like quiet sentinels as moonlight spilled over the grass and gravel.
I laid out the old camping blanket on the ground, right where Larvitar had dropped in.
He sat in the middle of it now—arms crossed like a tiny, granite-faced general, staring everyone down as if already judging whether they were worth his time.
He hadn't said a word since headbutting me.
Not that he needed to.
I grinned and reached for my Pokéballs.
With a crackle of light, Pikachu appeared first, tail flicking as he stretched, already eyeing Larvitar with a curious tilt of his head.
Gengar was next—phasing in with a soft whoosh, his grin wide and mischievous as ever. He floated over immediately and hovered inches from Larvitar's face, pulling one of his usual bug-eyed faces.
"Gaaaaar!"
Larvitar didn't blink.
He just headbutted Gengar straight in the mouth.
Gengar phased back, half-invisible and fully amused, cackling.
"Garrrr…"
Then came Corviknight, wings spreading briefly before folding with metallic precision. He landed with a deep thud, towering over Larvitar like a silver-clad knight.
Larvitar glared up at him.
Corviknight cawed once, deep and resonant.
Larvitar didn't budge.
"Huh," I muttered under my breath. "He's not scared of anything, is he?"
A shimmer of pale light signaled Gardevoir's arrival.
She floated in gracefully, eyes calm and thoughtful. She studied Larvitar for a moment before offering him a gentle nod.
Larvitar… gave her a stiff, awkward one back.
I'll take it.
Next came the splash.
"Karp!"
Magikarp flopped beside the blanket, scales shimmering like a disco ball under the moon. He blinked one eye at Larvitar and flopped again.
Larvitar leaned over and poked him once.
Then again.
And promptly ignored him.
Charmeleon strode up last, tail burning like a miniature torch. He and Larvitar locked eyes immediately.
Neither spoke.
Neither blinked.
Then Larvitar gave a short nod—serious, measured.
Charmeleon returned it with a low grunt, settling beside him like he'd just approved of a junior rival.
I leaned back on my hands, smiling.
Different species. Different personalities. Different pasts.
But somehow, they fit.
Seven now.
Each one summoned. Chosen.
Pikachu padded over and curled up beside me, fur brushing my leg. "Pika…"
"I know," I murmured, stroking between his ears. "He's tough. But he belongs. You feel it too, right?"
Pikachu flicked an ear in agreement, eyes still on Larvitar.
He hadn't smiled once.
But as Gengar floated into looping spirals and Magikarp slapped himself into a puddle, I saw Larvitar inch just a bit closer to Charmeleon and sit with a solid thump.
Right in the middle of everyone.
Like he'd been part of the team all along.
The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, bathing the Ketchum backyard in gold. Dew clung to the grass, the air fresh with the scent of early summer. Birds chirped from the tree line. In the middle of it all, Ash was checking and re-checking his backpack for the third time, muttering under his breath.
"Pokéballs, extra clothes, underwear, clean cloak, protein packs…"
From the porch, Annie stood with arms crossed—but her stern face kept flickering with worry.
"Did you pack the vitamin supplements I gave you? And the health tonics? They're labeled by color, Ash."
"I did, Mom."
"No skipping breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. And if you feel even a hint of a cold, you call me—Don't just 'fix it with aura,' alright?"
"Yes, Mom."
She stepped forward and tugged at the collar of his cloak, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "No late-night sparring. No pushing yourself until you pass out. And for the love of Arceus, don't train during a storm—"
"I said yes, Mom."
His voice was patient, but his smile crooked. She was trying so hard not to cry, and he could tell.
Freya leaned against the hood of her jet-black 1969 Ford Mustang, sunglasses perched in her hair and arms loosely folded. The engine gave a soft purr every few seconds, like it was eager to hit the road already.
"No rush," she called out casually. "We'll still make it by sunset. Let the mom stuff run its course."
Ash stepped over to the side yard where his dad's Pokémon were gathered in the early light.
"Bye, Albus," he said, rubbing the old Stoutland behind the ears. "You're the best watchdog anyone could ask for."
Albus gave a low, approving woof.
"Hooter," he added, glancing to the Noctowl perched on the old oak tree, "Keep an eye on them, alright?"
The owl hooted once, slow and solemn.
"Lala," he glanced at Jigglypuff near the door, "Just keep up those singing sessions, okay?"
Ash turned last toward his father, who stepped forward with his usual laid-back smile, hands in his pockets.
"You'll do fine," David said quietly, ruffling Ash's hair. "Don't overthink it. Call if anything gets weird. Or fun. Or both."
Ash nodded, but then paused—and hugged him.
Tightly.
"Thanks, Dad."
David patted his back once. "Keep your head up, son."
A moment later, Ash walked down the path to Freya's car, slung his bag into the backseat, and pulled the door open.
Annie wiped her eyes, trying to hide the tissue behind her apron. "Daily calls, Ash! Daily! And no fighting mutant gangs without backup!"
Ash gave her a wave and a grin. "No promises on that second one!"
With a roar of the engine and a flash of sunlight off the windshield, the Mustang pulled out of the driveway, kicking up gravel as it sped down the long road from the Ketchum home.
Ash Ketchum was headed for New York.
And a new chapter was just beginning.
***
Highway to New York – Afternoon
The Mustang rumbled down the open highway, its engine low and steady like a big cat breathing. Fields rolled past in gold and green blurs, sunlight catching on the chrome of passing signs. The sky above stretched endless and blue, the kind of sky that made everything feel a little more possible.
Ash sat in the passenger seat, legs tucked up and arms loose in his lap. Pikachu lay curled against him, fast asleep, his fur rising and falling with each quiet breath.
But Ash's eyes were closed, and his mind was far from resting.
He wasn't meditating in the traditional sense—no chants, no trance. He was listening. Reaching.
Aura flowed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat, slow and steady. But he didn't direct it outward this time. He let it breathe, let it speak. It was a practice he'd been working on for months now: tuning into the world without touching it.
The first thing he felt was Pikachu.
Not just his warmth, not just his body—his presence.
Ash didn't hear words, but feelings passed to him in flashes, like flickers of light behind closed eyes: a calm, lazy happiness. Safety. The kind of peace that only came when the person beside you felt like home.
He responded without thinking—sending his Aura outward in a soft pulse. A nudge. I feel you too.
Pikachu stirred slightly in his sleep and let out a soft "Pika," as if he'd heard the thought directly.
Ash opened his mind further, casting out a thread of focus.
Could he feel beyond that?
But when he reached for Freya—
Nothing.
It wasn't emptiness. It was deliberate silence. A wall.
She was there, of course—he could feel her presence—but it was like running his hand over metal. Cold, seamless, shut tight. Her emotions didn't slip, her thoughts didn't leak. Her aura didn't just hide—it refused entry.
"You're blocking me," he said, eyes still closed.
"Damn right I am," she replied coolly, one hand on the wheel.
"Come on. Just a peek?"
"Not unless you want to learn about all the different ways I've planned to prank you over the years. Some things are better left unshared."
Ash chuckled. "So you are scared of what I might find."
Freya smirked. "I'm more scared of what you might send."
He opened his eyes and stretched, exhaling. She was right. Aura communication went both ways. It wasn't just about listening—it was about being heard. And in the wrong hands, that was dangerous.
That's why he practiced.
He leaned back again and let his mind settle, brushing lightly against the emotional field around him. Just brushing, not invading. It was a subtle balance—listening without stealing, sensing without overwhelming.
It took discipline.
It took control.
But it was working.
He could feel it: his aura strengthening, his senses sharpening, not just to power—but to people. Emotion. Intent. He could tell the difference now between panic and deceit. Between kindness and obligation. He could feel the subtle spikes of negativity—the way tension in a stranger's aura left static in the air. It was faint now, but one day, he'd be able to see it as clearly as color.
And somewhere down the road, he knew…
It could protect him.
Not just from attacks.
But from the wrong people.
The wrong influences.
He let the idea rest as the wind carried through the window, fingers playing at his hair. Pikachu shifted again, nudging closer. Ash let his aura wrap around them both—light and warm and firm, like a psychic shield.
It wasn't perfect yet. But it would be.
He was learning.
And growing.
"Getting better," he murmured, more to himself than anyone.
Pikachu, still curled up, mumbled a sleepy "Pika," in approval.
The Mustang roared gently on, the sun dipping just enough to cast long shadows across the road.
Ash sat in silence, mind still open. His Aura humming quiet and clear like a radar just beginning to find its reach.
***
The sun dipped low behind the skyline as Freya's Mustang growled to a halt beside a modest brick apartment complex nestled on a quiet street in Queens. Ash pressed his hand to the window, taking in the sight. The buildings were older, fire escapes like veins across their walls, but the neighborhood felt warm—lived-in.
"Alright, home sweet dump," Freya muttered, killing the engine. "It's no Ketchum ranch, but it won't fall apart under you."
Ash chuckled, then looked down at Pikachu curled in his lap. "Time to be discreet, buddy."
Pikachu gave a soft "Pika," ears twitching, before Ash tapped his Pokéball. A quiet pulse of light drew him back inside.
No Pokémon in public. Not yet, anyway.
They exited the car and climbed the narrow stairwell up to the third floor, Ash hoisting his duffel with one hand while quietly scanning the energy around him. Urban, crowded, but not threatening. Just... buzzing with life.
Freya unlocked the door and pushed it open with her boot. "Third floor, third door. Lucky number, huh?"
Ash stepped inside, blinking at the space. It was cleaner than he expected—barebones, sure, but not unwelcoming. A row of Pokéballs sat on a low shelf next to a stack of city permits and old trophies.
"Not bad," he said.
Freya shrugged. "The neighbors are mostly chill—well, except for the old guy who yells at squirrels, but—"
A door opened across the hall.
Ash turned.
She stepped out with her keys in hand, clearly just getting back from work. A name badge clipped to her hoodie read M. Parker – F.E.A.S.T. A few loose strands of auburn hair escaped her low ponytail, and her eyes carried a warmth that made the hallway feel less like a concrete cage and more like home.
"Evening, Freya," said a familiar voice.
Ash froze.
Freya glanced up. "Hey, May. Just getting back."
"Long trip?" she asked casually, noting the bags slung over Freya's shoulder.
"Nothing too bad. Just picked up my nephew." Freya stepped aside slightly and gestured to Ash. "Ash, this is May. She lives across the hall."
Ash blinked at her. His brain processed the words, but all he could think was:
That's May Parker.
She looked younger than in the movies. Tired, but kind. The kind of face people instantly trusted.
His breath caught for half a second.
That face. That name.
May Parker.
Peter Parker's aunt.
He barely managed a nod. "Hi."
May smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Ash. My nephew's about your age—Peter. You two might run into each other."
Ash's stomach flipped, but he kept his voice steady. "Yeah. Maybe."
"Well, if you need anything, don't be strangers," she said, giving them both a wave as she disappeared back into her apartment.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Freya turned to him with a smirk. "So that's what that face was. Wow."
Ash blinked. "Huh?"
"The frozen posture, the dumbstruck look. You totally just fell for my neighbor, didn't you?"
"What?!" Ash's eyes snapped to her. "No—I didn't—! That's not—"
Freya snorted. "You're redder than Charmeleon's tail. Relax. She's way too old for you, kid."
Ash groaned and grabbed his bag. "Can we not do this?"
"Oh, come on. It's cute," she teased, unlocking her door and stepping inside.
Ash followed, but his mind was already miles away.
It wasn't a crush.
It was recognition.
Peter Parker.
Maybe not Spider-Man yet... but maybe close.
Ash didn't say a word.
________________________________________________________________
A.N. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
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