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The day Ash Ketchum arrived at his doorstep with little more than his backpack, a well-worn hat and Pikachu by his side, Professor Kukui hadn’t thought much of it. Ash was bright, enthusiastic, and brimming with that boundless energy he’d heard so much about. Kukui had figured that taking in this kid—this budding Pokémon Trainer from Pallet Town—would be easy. A bit of guidance, some encouragement, and Ash would be off to explore everything Alola had to offer.
After all, Kukui’d had his fair share of students over the years—energetic kids eager to learn and test their limits as Pokémon Trainers. Ash had seemed like just another eager trainer, albeit one with a reputation that preceded him. A boy who had already faced so much, travelled across regions, and battled some of the strongest trainers and Pokémon alike. But a kid, nonetheless.
But things were never that simple.
Kukui had noticed it slowly, in bits and pieces, over the weeks that followed. At first, it had been little things—Ash’s tendency to push himself harder than any other kid his age, his sleepless nights spent out on the beach training until his muscles trembled from exhaustion, his distant gaze that lingered just a bit too long when someone mentioned the Kalos Region.
But it was in the way Ash trained. Even in the peaceful, laid-back atmosphere of Alola, Ash was relentless. He was up before dawn, sometimes training until the stars filled the sky again. Kukui would catch glimpses of him out on the beach, practicing moves with Pikachu or his other Pokémon, over and over, until his body nearly gave out. Ash would collapse onto the sand, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, only to get back up and push himself harder. There was an intensity to it, something almost desperate that Kukui hadn’t seen in the other students at the Pokémon School.
Kukui had tried to brush it off. He told himself that Ash was just determined, maybe a bit more driven than most trainers. After all, he was the kind of kid who aimed for the stars, who wouldn’t rest until he was the very best. Kukui respected that. But it wasn’t long before the cracks started to show. He began to notice the shadows under Ash’s eyes, the way his shoulders would tense when he thought no one was looking, the moments when his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
And then there were the nightmares. Kukui had heard Ash stirring at odd hours, murmuring in his sleep, sometimes crying out in the middle of the night. The first time, Kukui had dismissed it as just another dream, a common thing for kids with active imaginations. But the more he noticed, the more frequent it became. Ash would wake with a start, staring blankly at the ceiling or into the night, as if haunted by something just out of reach.
Kukui didn’t ask at first. He wasn’t one to pry, and he figured that whatever Ash had gone through, he’d talk about it when he was ready. But the silence stretched on, and Kukui’s concern deepened. There was something more beneath that sunny, determined exterior—a weight that Ash was carrying. A burden that, whatever it was, he refused to share.
It all came to a head one night when Kukui found Ash standing on the beach, drenched in sweat, Pikachu by his side, throwing punch after punch at the air as though he could fight off whatever storm brewed inside him, movements in sync with Pikachu’s Iron Tails and Quick Attacks. The moon hung high, casting a pale light over the scene, and Ash’s laboured breathing was the only sound besides the crashing waves.
Kukui had stood there for a moment, watching the boy—just a boy, really—worn down by battles both physical and mental. He’d seen trainers like Ash before, kids who’d pushed themselves and their Pokemon too far, who couldn’t shake the weight of past failures and close calls. But Ash… Ash was different. There was something more in the way he fought, something desperate, like he was fighting against something he couldn’t control. He had seen it, and he was sure that Tapu Koko had seen it too; there was no other reason for the guardian to have challenged Ash so openly. And that’s when it hit Kukui like a tidal wave.
Ash wasn’t just determined. He was hurting.
Kukui’d approached Ash quietly that night, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, and for the first time, he saw the exhaustion in the boy’s eyes. Not just physical, but something deeper—something that came from carrying the weight of the world far too many times.
“Ash,” Kukui had said, his voice soft but firm, “it’s okay to take a break.”
Ash had looked at him then, a mixture of confusion and defiance in his expression. “I have to keep getting stronger. I wasn’t good enough in Kalos. I wasn’t—”
Kukui’s stomach clenched at the mention of Kalos. He didn’t know the full details, only what he’d seen on the news. Team Flare, the destruction of Lumiose City, the crisis with the Legendary Pokémon. Ash had been there, at the center of it all, but he hadn’t talked about it. Not to Kukui, not to anyone. And now, seeing the way Ash’s hands shook, the way his face paled at the memory, Kukui knew the kid had been through more than he let on.
What kind of toll did that take on a kid? He realized those wounds were still fresh, still bleeding beneath the surface.
“Kid, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” Kukui interrupted gently. “Not to me, not to anyone here. And you don’t have to do it all on your own.”
Ash had opened his mouth to argue, but the words never came. Instead, his shoulders had sagged, and for the first time since arriving in Alola, Ash had let someone else carry some of the weight. Ash looked up at him, his eyes wide, but he didn’t say anything. There was a vulnerability there that Kukui hadn’t seen before, a quiet plea for help that Ash himself probably didn’t even recognize.
For the first time since Ash had arrived, Kukui felt a pang of uncertainty. Could he really do this? Could he be what Ash needed? He had signed up to be a mentor, a guide, but not… not a father. Yet that was exactly what Ash seemed to need right now—someone to protect him, to tell him that it was okay to let go, to stop running. Someone who cared about him, not as a trainer, but as a person.
Kukui took a deep breath, feeling the weight of that responsibility settle on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. He wasn’t sure if he could step into that role. But looking at Ash now—exhausted, haunted, and trying so desperately to hide it—Kukui knew he had to try.
Since that night, Kukui had been keeping a closer eye on Ash. He’d seen how hard the kid was on himself, how the memories of Kalos—and whatever else he’d faced—still haunted him. That was why Kukui had suggested the festival of the water gods. He hadn’t pushed Ash directly, but he’d framed it as a way to unwind, to connect with his friends from school and be part of the island’s community.
“Why don’t you head to the festival with your friends?” Kukui had said casually over breakfast. “Take a day off from training. You’ve been working hard. You’ve earned it.”
Ash had hesitated, but the idea of spending the day with his friends, with Pikachu at his side, had eventually won out. “That… sounds like fun.”
Kukui had nodded, his heart easing just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Ash didn’t need to face his demons alone, not here, not now. And maybe, just maybe, this festival would remind him that he didn’t have to carry the world on his shoulders anymore.
Kukui had watched him go that morning, a small flicker of hope stirring in his chest. He didn’t expect the festival to be a miracle cure, but maybe, just maybe, it would remind Ash of what it was like to just be a kid again—to have fun, to laugh, and to be surrounded by people who cared about him.
But deep down, Kukui knew this was just the beginning. Ash had faced so much, and as much as Kukui wanted to protect him from all the pain, he knew he couldn’t shield the boy from his past. What he could do, though, was be there. He could offer Ash the one thing he seemed to need most—a place to belong, a family who cared about him not for his victories, but for who he was.
Kukui sighed as he leaned back in his chair, glancing toward the door where Ash had disappeared earlier that morning. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a father figure, but it didn’t matter. Ash needed someone, and Kukui wasn’t going to let him face this alone.
Not while he was under his roof. Not while he had a family—whether Ash realized it yet or not. Not anymore.
~+~
The Alolan festival of the water gods was meant to be a day of celebration, joy and honour for the island’s rich traditions. Everywhere, the streets of Hau’oli City bustled with life, filled with dancing and laughter. The air smelled of tropical flowers and sizzling food stalls, and Ash Ketchum, as usual, was right in the middle of it all. Surrounded by his friends from the Pokémon School—Lillie, Kiawe, Mallow, Lana, and Sophocles—he felt the contagious energy of the festival tugging at his excitement.
Pikachu clung to his shoulder, his loyal companion sensing Ash's usual eagerness, and the boy’s wide grin seemed to brighten the spirits of everyone nearby.
“This is amazing!” Ash beamed, his face alight as he stuffed a piece of Mallow’s festival special into his mouth. He had no idea what it was, but it was delicious! “I can’t believe we’re all here together!”
“Watch it, Ash, or you’ll choke,” Mallow teased, though her voice was full of warmth.
Lana smirked. “I bet you can’t handle the Water Dance later.”
“Wanna bet?” Ash shot back, grinning wide, his heart as light as the island breeze.
Lillie, walking beside Lana, giggled. “I think we should all just enjoy the festival without making it a competition.”
“You say that like you don’t know Ash at all,” Sophocles added, and they all shared a laugh.
For a moment, Ash let himself get lost in it all—the vibrant festival, the sound of his friends’ laughter, the sense of belonging. Here, in Alola, he had found more than just another adventure. He had found a home, a second family. And with Kukui standing off to the side, his proud smile beaming toward Ash like the sun, it all felt perfect.
But it didn’t last.
As they moved toward the main stage, a group of performers began playing a song on ancient flutes and drums—a melody so delicate, yet so powerful. The notes drifted through the air like a soft wind carrying secrets from long ago.
The first note hit him with a chill of icy air that knocked the wind from his lungs.
Ash’s smile wavered. The song—he knew it. Too well.
The melody wrapped itself around him like an invisible chain, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Lugia’s Song. He hadn’t heard it in years, but it was burned into his memory as clearly as if it had been yesterday. That haunting, beautiful tune had once been the backdrop to chaos.
Suddenly, he was no longer at the festival. His mind yanked him back—back to Shamouti Island, back to the storm. Back to the moment when everything had gone so horribly wrong.
The rain. He could feel it. Sharp and cold against his skin, blurring his vision as he fought to keep his footing on the waterlogged ground. The wind howled like it wanted to tear him apart, and the sky was alive with the fury of the legendary birds. He could hear them—Moltres, Articuno, Zapdos—screeching as they clashed above him, their elemental powers tearing through the air.
But worse than the storm, worse than the fighting, was the weight of it all. He could still feel that crushing pressure—the prophecy, the expectation that he, an eleven-year-old boy, was the one who had to save the world. And the fear that he couldn’t.
Ash’s breath quickened, his chest tightening as the colours of the festival blurred around him. His hands shook. No. Not now. Not here.
“Ash?” Lana’s voice seemed to come from a distance, barely registering in his mind.
He couldn’t answer. His mind was trapped, dragged back into the storm. He was riding on Lugia again, frost-bitten wind spraying his face, chilling him to the bone. And then he had been falling. He didn’t remember hitting the water. All he remembered was the cold. He could feel the ocean pulling at him, trying to swallow him whole. He had tried so hard to stay afloat, to keep fighting. But it was so cold, and the water was so deep. He had slipped—slipped further under the surface, away from the light. The icy water had filled his lungs, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he wasn’t going to make it.
He remembered the panic. His limbs had gone numb, his chest burning as he struggled to reach the surface. But no matter how hard he tried, he just kept sinking. The cold had been unbearable, clawing into his bones. His heart had pounded wildly, fear crashing through him like a tidal wave.
Then Kasumi. Kasumi had pulled him out, her hand so strong, so desperate as she yanked him back from the brink. He remembered how he had shivered uncontrollably when she dragged him onto shore, his whole body trembling with the cold. She had called his name, her voice filled with terror, but he had barely heard her over the ringing in his ears. He had been so close to losing it all, so close to being swept away by the storm.
And now, there he was, drowning all over again in the memory of it.
“Ash! Ash!” Kiawe’s voice sounded distant, warped by the panic rushing through him.
Ash stumbled, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. He was so cold. Full-body shivers wracked his form and his heart pounded in his ears, louder than the festival, louder than anything around him. His vision swam, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was anymore. The world was slipping away from him, just like it had back then.
He couldn’t breathe! There was water in his lungs and he sputtered, desperately trying to suck down any amount of oxygen and purge the ice from his chest.
And then, there was a hand on his shoulder, firm and steady, anchoring him to the present.
“Ash.” Kukui’s voice cut through the panic, calm but insistent, like a lifeline pulling him out of the storm. “Breathe, kid. You’re okay. You’re here in Alola.”
Ash gasped, his chest still tight, but Kukui’s grip kept him grounded. Slowly, the world started to come back into focus. The festival, the bright colours, the sounds of laughter—it all returned, pushing away the darkness of the past. His teeth still chattered dangerously, his skin prickled as a gust of wind blew across it, cold and painful.
Kukui crouched beside him, his voice low, gentle. “It’s just a song, Ash. You’re safe. Look around.”
Ash blinked, his vision still blurry, but as he looked around, he saw his friends. Lillie’s worried gaze, Mallow’s sympathetic smile, Kiawe’s tense posture. They were all there, watching him, waiting for him to come back.
“You’re alright, Satoshi,” Kukui murmured, his voice full of quiet strength. It was the sound of Ash’s given name in Kukui’s calming accent that dragged Ash further out of his memory. “You’re here. With us. With your friends.”
Ash swallowed hard, still trembling. The memory of the cold water, of nearly drowning, lingered in the back of his mind. But Kukui was right. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“I... I’m sorry.” Ash whispered, his voice barely audible.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Kukui replied softly. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
Pikachu nuzzled closer, his soft fur pressing against Ash’s cheek, as if to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Ash managed a small, shaky smile, his heart still racing but slowly starting to calm. He scratched at yellow fur absently and received a short squeak of support for his effort. A soft jolt of electricity stimulated down his limbs, bringing the warmth that he had been desperately craving.
Lana was the first to step forward, her voice gentle. “We’re here for you, Ash. Always.”
Mallow nodded firmly, her voice full of support. “You don’t have to face anything alone.”
Kiawe crossed his arms, his tone serious but full of warmth. “We’ve got your back, no matter what.”
Ash blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, overwhelmed by the love and support of his friends. He had carried so much for so long, convinced that he had to be strong, that he had to face everything on his own. But standing here, surrounded by the people who cared about him, he realized he didn’t have to do that anymore.
They didn’t know what he had been through, not really, but at the moment, it didn’t matter to Ash. He had struggled for so long after saying goodbye to Kasumi and Takeshi, trying to keep his past under wraps, protected from prying eyes. Nobody could understand what he had been through, so why worry them?
And yet… something was urging him to tell his Alola family the truth.
Kukui squeezed his shoulder one last time before finally letting go. “Let’s take a break. There’s no rush. We can head home, take it easy.”
Ash hesitated, glancing back at the stage where the haunting melody still played softly in the background. The memory of Shamouti Island still lingered in his mind, but it didn’t feel as heavy now. Not with his friends by his side. He hadn’t felt this… supported since the end of his Johto journey.
“Yeah,” Ash said quietly, his voice stronger now. “That sounds good.”
As they walked away from the stage, the weight on Ash’s shoulders began to lift more. The scent of tropical flowers filled the air again, and the laughter of the festival drifted back into the forefront.
He wasn’t the same boy who had fought through that storm. He had his friends, his family, and Pikachu by his side. He didn’t have to face his past alone anymore.
And for the first time, that felt like enough.