Ash stood barefoot in the backyard, the morning sun warming the crown of his head while a gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine from his mother's garden. The grass was cool beneath his feet, still damp with dew that soaked between his toes. Somewhere in the distance, a robin trilled its morning song. Across from him, David Ketchum stood in silence, arms crossed, his stance easy but alert. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind you could lean into, like standing on the edge of something just beginning.
"Start from the breath," David said calmly. "Then reach."
Ash nodded.
He closed his eyes.
Inhale… hold… exhale.
It wasn't hard. Not anymore.
Aura came to him like breath did—natural, constant, always waiting beneath the surface. He reached inward and felt the warmth build in his chest, the same place it had erupted from just days ago. But now, it pulsed steady. Familiar. Like a friend who had always been there, finally speaking back.
He opened his eyes.
The world didn't change in color—but in weight. In feeling.
His father's aura stood out like a silent bonfire, golden-red and steady. The trees behind him shimmered with their own soft hums, alive in ways few people could understand. The house pulsed faintly with the memories it held, the walls almost echoing with laughter and love.
David smiled slightly. "Aura Vision. Solid work. You've been practicing."
Ash shrugged, grinning. "It's easy now. I've known the theory since I was three—Aunt Freya and you made sure of that."
David chuckled. "That sounds like us."
Ash walked forward slowly, hands open. "But I've been experimenting too. I didn't tell anyone because I wasn't sure if I was doing it right… but I think I've figured out some of it on my own."
David raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"
Ash held out a hand and closed his eyes for a moment. His body tensed slightly, then relaxed as a faint glow pulsed from his palm. The light flowed upward, following the arc of his fingers like a flame dancing along his nerves.
"This is Aura Projection," Ash said quietly. "I'm still figuring out what shapes I can make. Right now, it's just raw light… but I can feel it wants to form something more. Like a memory I haven't remembered yet."
David's smile widened—not out of pride, but quiet recognition. "Good. Projection is one of the oldest forms. It can become shield, blade… even language, if you're patient enough."
Ash nodded. "And this—" He turned toward a nearby flower bed, where a wilting sapling leaned sideways. "—is Aura Transference."
He knelt and placed both palms on the soil around the plant's base. For a moment, nothing happened—then the ground glowed faintly blue beneath his hands, and the sapling slowly straightened, its leaves rising with a soft rustle.
David's brows lifted with genuine surprise. "You shared your energy."
Ash straightened, brushing soil from his palms and catching his breath. The earthy smell of fresh dirt clung to his hands. "Not much. Just enough to remind it how to stand."
David exhaled slowly. "You're farther along than I expected."
"I've also been practicing Spiritual Sensory," Ash added. "I can feel people—their intent. I could tell the other day when Mr. Hanley came by that he was worried about something, even though he was smiling."
"That's not easy," David said. "People hide themselves better than beasts do. And spiritual pressure—intent—that takes real time to read."
Ash looked up. "And… there's one more. Empowerment."
He closed his fists, drawing in a long, sharp breath. The air around him seemed to shimmer for a moment—subtle, like heat rising from a road. His muscles tensed, and his posture shifted, becoming heavier, more grounded.
"I can't hold it long," he admitted. "But when I do… everything feels sharper. My strikes hit harder, I can move quicker. And not just physically—it's like my instincts get clearer too."
David stared at him, thoughtful. For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Ash's shoulder.
"You've done more than most adults could manage alone," David said quietly. "And you did it with grace."
Ash tilted his head, curious. "Was there ever a chance I could've messed it up?"
David's expression softened. "Not in the way you think. Aura isn't something that turns on you—it's not dangerous, or hungry. It doesn't want anything. But it listens. Closely."
Ash blinked. "Listens?"
"To you. Your thoughts, your feelings, your intent," David said, tapping his chest. "When you're young, everything inside is louder—joy, fear, excitement, confusion. So your Aura reflects that. Not because it's wild, but because you're still learning how to be clear."
Ash was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I've felt that," he said slowly. "Like it wants to move—to shape something. Not because I told it to, but because I was… feeling something big."
David crouched down, now at eye level with his son. "Exactly. That's why we train. Not to control Aura—but to understand it. To understand yourself. So that when your Aura listens, it hears something true. Something calm."
Ash met his gaze, determination flickering in his eyes. "Then train me."
David's lips curled into a slow, proud grin. "I already am."
He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his hands, then paused. His voice dropped to something more tender.
"That pull you mentioned? That feeling of needing to do something with it? That's natural, especially when you're young. Aura wakes up in stages—it blooms. And in the early stages, it wants to be used. Not out of hunger, but because it's full of life. Possibility. It's like light spilling from a lantern that was always meant to shine."
Ash's eyes went wide with wonder. "So… it settles with time?"
David nodded, his weathered face thoughtful. "Yes. As you grow, as you come to know yourself better, it becomes quieter. Not because it fades—but because it begins to move with you. No longer rushing ahead or pulling behind. Just… part of who you are."
Ash's mouth curved upward, small but genuine. "That sounds kind of beautiful."
"It is," David said. "But it takes patience. That's why you don't rush it—you grow with it. Like a conversation that deepens every year."
Ash looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. "Then I'm ready to keep listening."
David reached out and gently ruffled Ash's hair. "Good. Because the next part isn't easy."
Ash smirked. "It never is."
David chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Oh, you have no idea."
Ash followed his father toward the center of the yard, dry grass crunching softly underfoot. A warm breeze rustled through the oak trees that bordered their property, carrying the distant sound of a lawnmower from the neighbor's yard. His Aura had quieted now, humming like a lantern's glow rather than a wildfire. Still present, still alive—but settled.
He stole a glance at his father, hesitant.
"Dad?"
David slowed his steps, eyes flicking toward his son. "Mm?"
Ash took a breath. "When… when can I summon my first Pokémon?"
David stopped walking.
A hawk cried somewhere overhead, its call echoing across the stillness before a knowing grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He turned fully to face Ash.
"You're eager," he observed, not unkindly.
Ash shrugged, a little sheepish. "Well… yeah."
David folded his arms, considering the question. "Traditionally, the first summoning happens about a month after Aura awakening. Gives the mind time to settle, the bond time to prepare. The connection between soul and partner… it's not something you rush."
Ash chewed on his bottom lip, processing. "But…"
David's eyes lit up with mischief. "But this year's different."
Ash perked up like a dog hearing a treat bag rustle.
David continued, "You're not the only one in the family who's awakened early. There are four others—cousins, second cousins. All of you, the same year. It's rare. The Elders took it as a sign."
"A sign?"
David gazed toward the woods, where shadows danced between the tree trunks. "Last time was the year Freya awakened. Before that, your grandfather and his siblings."
Ash's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "So… what does that mean?"
"It means," David said, resting a firm hand on Ash's shoulder, "we're doing something special. A gathering. In two months."
Ash's breath hitched in his throat.
"All the young ones who awakened this year will summon their first partners together," David went on. "The Elders will attend. Freya's flying in. Your grandmother is hosting. The whole Ketchum family, in one place."
Ash's breath caught. "Really?"
David's face brightened with paternal pride. "Really. It's a tradition, but one that only happens when the stars line up like this. You'll each summon your first partner together. Not from a lineup, but from the bond you've already been forming without knowing it. Aura calls to what reflects us."
Ash's voice came out barely above a whisper. "Do you know who mine will be?"
David let out a hearty laugh. "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. That's part of the journey. You don't choose your first Pokémon—it's already chosen you. The summoning just lets you both hear each other clearly for the first time."
Ash stared down at his hands, then let his gaze wander across the world around him—the wind stirring the leaves, the grass swaying gently, the warmth pulsing steady in his chest.
"Two months," he repeated.
"Two months," David confirmed.
Ash's jaw set with fresh resolve. "I want to be ready."
David's expression radiated warmth and approval in equal measure.
"Then let's begin."
For the Next Two Months, Dad Helped Me with My Aura Training
The sun arced lazily through the sky, marking time not in hours but in moments—measured instead by sweat, breath, and the steady pulse of Aura between father and son.
Ash stood barefoot on the wooden deck behind the house, the morning air crisp against his skin and carrying the scent of pine from the nearby forest. Palms extended, knees bent in a low stance, he faced a silver basin of water that rippled gently in the breeze. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath.
"Still the mind," David instructed from beside him, his boots creaking against the weathered planks. "Aura doesn't bend to thought—it responds to intention."
Ash closed his eyes.
The ripples smoothed. The water turned glassy. Then—one faint pulse—concentric rings spread from its center, glowing with a soft blue light.
"Better," David murmured.
***
In the orchard, morning mist still clung to the apple trees as Ash darted between them, his bare feet silent on the damp earth. The air smelled of rotting fruit and fresh leaves. His body moved sharper now, smoother—no wasted motion. Each breath timed, each step flowing. A wooden staff spun in his hands, guided by his Aura, not his muscles.
"You're not fighting the branch," David called from where he leaned against a gnarled trunk. "You're listening to it."
Ash leaped over a low-hanging bough, twisted mid-air, and struck a hanging target cleanly.
Thunk.
The staff hummed in his grip like it was proud.
***
At twilight, they stood near the riverbed where the air hung thick with the scent of wet stones and cattails. Frogs croaked somewhere in the distance, and the sound of rushing water provided a constant whisper.
David raised his hand, his voice cutting through the evening sounds. "Projection drill. Shape it."
Ash breathed in. A sphere of golden light pulsed to life in his palm—unstable, flickering.
"Focus."
Ash narrowed his eyes.
The light shrank. Became smooth. Then—just as he exhaled—it folded into the shape of a small blade. It flickered once… then held.
David nodded. "That'll cut a shadow clean."
***
At night, under stars that glittered like scattered diamonds, they sat in comfortable silence around a small fire that popped and crackled, sending sparks spiraling into the darkness. The smoke carried the rich scent of burning oak, and somewhere an owl hooted mournfully. Ash sported a small cut on his cheek from the training staff; his shirt was stained with earth and sweat that smelled of his own exhaustion.
David handed him a bowl of broth—still steaming, with the hearty aroma of beef and herbs—and didn't speak until they had both eaten a few quiet spoonfuls.
"You're learning fast," he said finally, his voice rough from the day's instruction. "Too fast, maybe."
Ash glanced up from his bowl.
David's expression grew serious. "Just don't forget to live, too. Aura grows best when you're laughing… not just swinging swords."
Ash managed a tired grin. "Then maybe tomorrow I'll beat you and laugh at the same time."
David's chuckle rumbled low in his chest. "You're welcome to try."
***
Two Months Later
Ash could barely sit still.
His legs bounced with uncontainable energy as the shuttle bus rolled toward the airport terminal, its engine humming steadily beneath them. The vinyl seats smelled faintly of disinfectant and previous travelers. The early morning sky was painted in streaks of orange and violet, but even the beauty outside couldn't pull his attention from what lay ahead.
He was going to meet the rest of the Ketchums.
Not just his father's siblings or their children. All of them. The scattered branches of the family tree—warriors, rangers, and scholars—each connected by a thread of Aura and a legacy few in the world even knew existed.
Ash had never even imagined so many relatives. His dad spoke of them sometimes—quietly, with a strange mix of warmth and distance—but now, he'd get to see them in person. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of people who shared the same bloodline. The same power.
And most importantly…
They would all be summoning their Pokémon.
Together.
His first Pokémon.
The thought made his pulse quicken.
"You're shaking," his mother teased from the seat beside him, nudging his elbow.
Ash grinned wide. "I can't help it. It's like… it's like waiting for a part of me I haven't met yet."
David, seated across the aisle with his travel bag at his feet, nodded with quiet approval.
"That's a good way to put it," he said. "The bond you'll form… it won't be with someone random. You'll summon yours. Through Aura. It'll come to you because you call it—because it knows you."
Ash pressed his face against the cool window as the plane came into view at the gate, sleek and silver in the rising light, its engines already warming with a low, steady whine.
"Do you remember yours?" he asked.
David's eyes unfocused for a moment, lost in some distant memory. A shadow of contentment crossed his weathered features.
"Every second of it," he said. "It changed everything."
Ash's heart thudded in anticipation.
A Few Hours Later
Ash sat pressed to the plane window, his breath fogging the glass as his nose nearly touched its cool surface. The recycled air carried the faint smell of jet fuel and coffee from the galley. The clouds below looked like mountains of whipped cream, soft and surreal. But it was what waited beneath them that mattered.
Washington.
He'd seen pictures. Videos. But nothing compared to what he imagined now—forests that stretched endlessly, trees so tall they seemed to scrape the sky, and a gathering deep within that ancient green where history pulsed just below the bark.
He imagined distant cousins training with Pokémon that shimmered with otherworldly power. Grand-uncles sparring in silence with blades made of Aura. Elders with voices like wind through the branches, speaking names older than maps.
He turned to his father, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Do you think they'll like me?"
David met his gaze, eyes gentle but unwavering.
"They'll see you," he said. "Not just what you've done—but who you are. That's enough."
Ash absorbed this, then slowly nodded.
Then, quietly, he whispered to himself, "I hope my Pokémon likes me too."
His mother reached over and squeezed his hand, her fingers warm and reassuring.
"It already does," she said. "You just haven't met each other yet."
________________________________________________
A.N. Tell me what you think of this Chapter. I was wondering how to go about Ash's Pokémon summoning, and after a lot of thinking, an event like this made sense to me. It made it kind of special instead of just doing it with his family.
P.S. Give me Power Stones!!!!