Welcome, all, to A New World Order: Birth of a Prophecy, an AU/journey fanfiction starring Ash of Oak Fir
not Ketchum. Just what is so alternative about this universe? Well, imagine a peaceful island and a futuristic utopia united by a legend dating centuries into past, and its prophecy coming to fruition. What happens when something dear to the protagonist is taken from him? Prepare yourself for action, adventure, suspense, some drama/comedy, and personal growth.
The majority of the characters in this story are not my own. They've been taken from the Pokemon Series, either anime or manga or both, but I've taken the creative liberty of redefining their roles and personalities. I'm also using a lot of OC's, so we've got a nice mix going on.
Warning: This fanfiction contains some mild language and sexual context, the latter being strictly in reference and not actual, described occurrences.
Spoiler:- Table of Contents:
“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—
“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. His father was always overly concerned with how often Ash was reading or what prayers he had memorized. But he never asked Ash about other things that interested him, like how fun public school can be, or how many friends he’s made in town.
In the midst of his dad’s scolding, 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 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.” 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 discipline you instill in 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.”