Ash Ketchum – Age 11 | Queens, New York City
The morning air was crisp, laced with the scent of coffee and car horns. The city never really slept, Ash was starting to realize. Even now—barely past eight—a delivery truck rumbled past the curb as Ash and Freya stepped out of the apartment building.
She locked the door behind her with one hand, the other tucking a thick envelope under her arm.
"You know," Freya said as they headed down the stairs, "this whole 'temporary guardianship' thing is mostly just a formality. Red tape, really. But the school board gets twitchy if you don't check every box."
Ash adjusted the strap of his backpack. "Makes sense. I mean, I don't think 'from an Aura-bound bloodline' is gonna fly on the housing forms."
Freya snorted. "God, no. Stick with 'my aunt's cool, and my parents trust her.' Less paperwork. Less… government attention."
They reached the sidewalk. Freya's Mustang was already waiting at the curb, her coffee cup steaming in the cup holder.
Ash slid into the passenger seat as she tossed the envelope on the dash and started the engine. "So… where are we going exactly?"
"Local administrative office," Freya said, pulling out into traffic. "We hand them the signed documents, they process you as my temporary dependent, and boom—you're legally under my care until the end of middle school."
"Three whole years?" Ash raised an eyebrow. "That's practically a life sentence."
Freya smirked. "Start acting like a saint, and maybe I'll let you off early for good behavior."
Ash grinned. "No promises."
She smirked but didn't answer.
The drive wasn't long—ten minutes through light traffic before they parked near a squat tan government building with a faded Department of Youth Services sign out front.
Inside, the lighting was harsh and sterile. The receptionist handed them a clipboard with a tired smile and gestured toward a row of metal chairs.
Ash sat beside Freya as she filled out the form with efficient speed. Name, birthdate, relation, reason for guardianship. He didn't say anything, just watched her write "Educational Transfer, Parental Permission Granted."
Eventually, Freya passed him the clipboard. "Signature, kiddo. Here and here."
Ash scrawled his name beside the boxes and looked up. "That's it?"
"That's it," Freya confirmed. "The joys of red tape. Get used to it."
They handed the clipboard back. The receptionist scanned it, stamped it with a dull thunk, and handed them a carbon copy.
"Congratulations," she said, barely glancing up. "You're now a legal minor under Miss Ketchum's care in New York."
Freya raised a brow at Ash as they stepped back into the sunlight. "Told you. Easy."
Ash grinned as he walked beside her toward the car again, the city buzzing around them. It was official now. Queens was his new home.
***
One Week Later
Ash's POV
It had been a week since I moved in with Freya. The apartment still smelled faintly of the incense she burned to ward off "dimensional residue" — her words, not mine — but it was already starting to feel like home.
Most of my mornings were spent training on the rooftop. Urban battles were different. Limited space. No wild terrain to use. I adapted quickly.
But what really excited me was progress in the mental aspects of Aura.
Aura was more than just energy. More than just force. It was connection — the invisible thread between lives, between thoughts. Over the last few days, I'd pushed myself harder than ever, focusing on telepathic links with my Pokémon.
It started with simple emotion sensing — a flicker of hunger from Pikachu, a spike of pride from Charmeleon. Then I began working with Gengar, given his natural affinity for psychic spaces and ghostly presence.
I told him to move to specific locations in the city — rooftops, alleys, quiet corners. Each time, I stayed back, focusing on maintaining a mental connection and giving commands.
We kept pushing farther. One kilometer. Then two.
That was my current limit.
Roughly two kilometers before the mental tether stretched too thin.
But it was something. A foundation. With practice, I could expand it. Reach farther. Stay connected with my team even while apart.
I'd keep working on it.
That was the mission.
Freya had gone out earlier to get groceries. Said something about threatening the deli guy again because he kept shorting her on olives.
I sank into the couch and absentmindedly rubbed Pikachu's ears while flipping through the news. Static buzzed. A few finance updates. A weird blip about a frog sighting near the Hudson.
I hadn't met Peter Parker yet — even though we lived across the hall. May always smiled and said hello, offered baked goods like a sitcom neighbor, but her nephew hadn't shown up once since I moved in.
Then I froze.
"BREAKING: SENATOR KELLY REPORTED MISSING – AUTHORITIES SUSPECT KIDNAPPING."
A banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen:
"Mutant involvement suspected."
This wasn't just news.
I knew this event. I remembered it from the movies.
Senator Kelly.
The Brotherhood.
This was from the X-Men movies… where Magneto tries to turn the UN summit attendees into mutants.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Outside, New York buzzed with sirens, voices, traffic, life — but up here, I only heard the low hum of the radiator and the soft breathing of Pikachu curled beside me.
The TV was off now. Had been for an hour. But that headline still echoed in my head.
Senator Kelly.
Mutants.
The Brotherhood.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, staring out the window. The skyline was half-hidden by cloud and neon, but the weight in my chest wasn't something fog could blur away.
This was it.
The start of something big.
I knew what came next — not just because I'd seen the movie, but because I could feel it. That creeping sensation that the world was about to shift under its own weight.
But the question that gnawed at me was:
Should I intervene?
Should I try to change what's already unfolding?
Would saving Kelly sooner make the world better… or just different?
What if my actions now unravel the story that's supposed to happen — the pain that pushes Charles to fight harder, the loss that tempers Logan, the rise that forges Storm, Jean, Scott?
What if by stepping in, I break their character arcs?
Mess up their growth?
Would I be helping... or just getting in the way?
I wasn't supposed to be here. Not originally.
This wasn't my story.
But then… maybe it was.
Because I kept asking myself one thing:
Why am I here at all?
Was it fate? Random chance? Some cosmic misfire that dropped me — a boy with Pokémon — into a world of mutants and gods?
I looked down at the Pokéballs on my belt — each one humming faintly with the energy of my partners.
Real lives. Real souls. Real power.
Not just weapons.
I exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
I wouldn't charge in blindly. Not yet.
But I would be ready.
Because if this world was cracking open — if Magneto was making his move — then sooner or later, the pieces would fall.
And when they did?
I'd be there.
***
Nightfall crept in, brushing the sky in strokes of blue and violet.
The wind was colder up here. Sharper, even.
I stepped out onto the rooftop, the city breathing beneath my feet—cars hissing through wet streets, lights blinking like anxious eyes. Somewhere down below, life moved on. People cooked dinner. Laughed at sitcoms. Slept. Unaware of what was coming.
I wasn't sure what exactly was coming.
Not entirely.
My memories of the movie were vague. Fractured. I didn't know every beat of what Magneto would do, or where the X-Men would show up, or how much of the story was still the same. I wasn't from this world.
But one thing I did remember—
The final battle.
The Statue of Liberty.
I placed two fingers against my shadow.
"Gengar," I whispered.
A ripple of darkness spilled from the base of my feet, curling upward like smoke, and from it, Gengar emerged—silent, smiling. His wide eyes gleamed, waiting.
Waiting for orders.
"Mission time."
His grin widened.
I knelt, bringing my thoughts into focus. Through the thin thread that connected us, I pushed a series of images into his mind:
—The statue, towering above Ellis Island. —The torch. —The crown. —A map overlay with its coordinates. —A vision of what to watch for—unusual activity, metal manipulation, or signs of the Brotherhood.
"You know where to go," I said aloud. "Keep low. Watch everything. If something's wrong—let me know."
He nodded once, then sank back into the shadow in silence.
Gone.
Just like that.
I stood there a moment longer, the wind pressing against my coat, tugging at my collar like a warning.
Maybe I couldn't stop everything.
Maybe I couldn't rewrite the whole story.
But I could make sure no innocent person got hurt.
Not while I was here.
***
Three Days Later
The incense was barely burning anymore, but the scent lingered — lavender and something metallic, like the aftertaste of a dream.
I sat cross-legged in the center of the room, the lights off, the windows cracked. The hum of the city was a constant heartbeat beneath the silence. Somewhere outside, car horns blared, a dog barked, and a kid laughed too loud for this late at night.
But I wasn't listening to them. Not really.
My focus was inward.
A flicker of energy pulsed behind my forehead — not pain, not pressure, just… resistance.
Mental shielding wasn't easy. Not even close. Thoughts wanted to move. They wanted to be seen. Emotions bubbled up no matter how tightly I clenched them.
But I kept going.
Jean Grey. Professor Xavier. If either of them tried to touch my mind, I needed to be ready. Not just resistant — unreadable. A locked vault with no seams.
Especially now.
It had been three days since I sent Gengar to the Statue of Liberty.
No word from him yet — no alert, no signal.
I told myself that was good. No news meant no attack. Right?
Maybe.
But I'd seen the headlines.
Fuzzy footage from a train station — news anchors trying to explain away the damage, the terrified civilians, the missing senator.
"Mutant terrorism," they called it.
Some speculated about the Brotherhood.
But no one really knew anything.
And I?
I sat in a room, meditating.
Shielding my mind.
Waiting.
Part of me wanted to act. To intervene again. To do something.
But this wasn't a cartoon. There were no clear markers of right and wrong. Just a pressure building in the air — a storm gathering somewhere I couldn't see.
I exhaled slowly, centering myself again.
Push the thoughts out.
Seal the cracks.
Breathe in control.
Moments later
The pressure shifted.
A flicker. A ripple. Like a single drop in still water.
I snapped out of the trance immediately — not from panic, but familiarity.
Gengar.
Not a voice. Not words. But something deeper. Older. A pulse of thought that traveled along a thread tied directly to my soul.
I'd felt it before — this bond. With Pikachu. With Gardevoir. With all of them, really.
Even with all my shielding up, even while buried deep inside my own mental defenses, he got through. My walls didn't apply to them. Not to my Pokémon.
That's what made the bond real. Not just commands or loyalty.
It was something more. A link that didn't care about obstacles or time.
I stood, slowly, my breath catching as the images started flowing in.
Metal. Chains. Screams buried in stone.
Rogue, unconscious, her skin pale as snow. Suspended. Caged. That machine—glowing, groaning, building toward something.
And Magneto.
There.
Waiting.
The image sharpened — the peak of the Statue of Liberty, scaffolding twisted around her torch like a cage. Sparks flew from wiring. X-Men gathered below. They were arriving.
It was happening.
I tightened my fists and whispered, "Perfect timing."
Time for action. No more waiting. No more watching.
I reached for my cloak and checked the ring on my hand. As the cool metal touched my skin, I felt the hum — not of fear, but of focus.
Pikachu stirred from his spot on the windowsill just as I stood, and his ears twitched once. Twice. Then he sprang — graceful, practiced — and landed neatly on my shoulder.
"You ready, partner?" I murmured.
"Pika."
No hesitation.
I pulled out Gardevoir's Pokéball and pressed the release.
With a shimmer of light, she emerged — floating, elegant as ever, her eyes already locked on mine.
"Take us to Gengar's location. Now."
No need to explain.
A shimmer of blue surrounded us—
And then we were gone.
***
The world returned in a flash of wind and stars.
We appeared mid-air.
For a split second, gravity had us — wind rushing past.
Then Gardevoir's eyes lit up.
Psychic.
The fall stopped.
We hovered in place, suspended just beside the torch's scaffolding. Pikachu braced himself on my shoulder. Gardevoir hovered slightly above and behind me, arms outstretched, threads of invisible force keeping us aloft.
The view was... chaos.
Below us, the battle had already begun.
Storm crackled through the air, lightning splitting the sky. Jean Grey stood at the base of the scaffolding, her telekinesis ripping debris from the metalwork and flinging it like blades. Cyclops was firing precise red blasts into the crowd of attackers below, while Wolverine darted and slashed through the chaos with brutal efficiency. Ice slicked across the base of the monument — Bobby, Iceman, holding back a squad of mutants with a massive frozen wall.
But—
My eyes narrowed.
There were more of them than I remembered.
Way more.
Half a dozen—no, more—unknown mutants swarmed the lower levels, wielding abilities I couldn't immediately place. Shakers. Brawlers. One of them even launched acidic blasts that melted through Cyclops' cover.
This… wasn't how the movie went.
I gritted my teeth, scanning again.
The X-Men were holding their ground — barely — but they were outnumbered. Not overwhelmed… but delayed.
Exactly what Magneto needed.
My gaze snapped upward.
There. At the peak of the torch, framed by the night sky and scaffolding, Magneto floated above the structure, hands raised. Metal spun around him, glowing with the telltale hum of the machine he'd built.
And beside it… Rogue.
Strapped in. Barely conscious.
It's starting.
I narrowed my eyes, voice barely a whisper. "Not on my watch."
Pikachu growled low.
Gardevoir waited behind me, still holding the psychic field.
I reached into my belt, thumb brushing over each Pokéball.
The wind whispered past us, but I barely noticed.
My fingers wrapped around a Pokéball on my belt, the one with the faintest scratch near its center — the one I hadn't used in battle. Not yet.
I smirked, thumbing the release just slightly. "You should be enough," I murmured, more to myself than anyone. "Help them. Support them."
With a flick of my wrist, I hurled it down.
The red and white sphere cut through the air, spiraling toward the fray like a comet.
Click.
It opened just before it hit the platform.
Fwoooosh.
Out came a tiny green boulder of a creature, arms folded, gaze sharp.
Larvitar.
The entire battlefield paused.
Wolverine, mid-swing, actually blinked.
One of the mutant attackers — a bulky guy with glowing tattoos across his arms — squinted at the small dinosaur now standing defiantly on the battlefield.
"…What the hell is that?"
Another mutant snorted. "Is that a lizard?"
Someone else laughed.
Larvitar's eye twitched.
I didn't even need to give the command.
He just snapped.
With a guttural roar, Larvitar launched forward in a blur of anger.
First was Rock Throw — chunks of broken debris lifted from the ground and hurled like cannonballs, sending two attackers flying.
Then came Smack Down — a precision strike of stone and force that brought down a flying mutant mid-dash, slamming them hard into the steel walkway.
The laughter stopped.
Larvitar growled again, mouth opening wide as his jagged teeth gleamed — Crunch.
He bit down on a metal pipe one attacker used as a weapon and shattered it with a single shake of his head before headbutting them into the railing.
And then—
He raised both arms.
The ground trembled.
Beneath their feet, concrete and steel buckled.
Rock Slide.
Slabs of debris exploded upward, crashing down in a chaotic cascade that sent half a dozen attackers diving for cover.
The battlefield was no longer laughing.
The X-Men turned toward the chaos as the little green monster bulldozed forward like a tank, utterly undeterred by size or numbers.
"Pika…" Pikachu murmured on my shoulder, both impressed and mildly concerned.
"Yeah," I said, smirking as I watched from above. "He needs some anger management classes."
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A.N. This may seem like a normal chapter, but I really started to question my ability to write for this chapter. This was the final version after almost 3 rewrites!! I really struggled with how I should involve Ash in the plot, how much he should change, what changes will that bring in the Future, etc. So tell me if you like this chapter! I would appreciate it if you could comment down below your thoughts and any advice for future chapters.
P.S. Expect another chapter today!
Got beasts, got brawls, got world-class flair—But Power Stones? I need my share!So toss one in, don't make me beg—Even Larvitar's doing the puppy-leg.