They had arrived in Forks, Washington just before noon—though with the mist clinging to the treetops and clouds hanging like a heavy blanket, it could've been early morning or twilight.
After an endless drive through winding forest roads, the car rolled down a dirt path barely wide enough for two tires, swallowed on both sides by towering trees. Their trunks rose thick as boulders, canopies reaching so high they transformed daylight into a hushed cathedral of green.
Ash leaned forward, forehead nearly pressed to the window.
He had never seen trees like these—ancient giants, patient and tall, older than any building he'd ever walked through. The air smelled different here too. Deeper. Like moss and memory. His pulse quickened the farther they drove.
Then, through a break in the foliage, he saw it.
A mansion—no, a fortress. Nestled deep in the forest like it had grown there rather than been built. Stone foundations rose from the earth like they belonged to some ancient castle. Wooden beams crossed high archways, and red-brown bricks wrapped the outer walls in clean, proud symmetry. Moss grew between the cracks, but not from neglect—it felt intentional, as if the house was meant to be part of the forest, not separate from it.
Ash's mouth hung open.
It looked like something from a fantasy drama—one of those noble houses with secret bloodlines and powerful heirs. Except this wasn't television. This was real. His family lived here.
"Whoa," he breathed.
From the front passenger seat, David smiled. "Still think your childhood home was big?"
Ash shook his head slowly. "This place is massive."
Their car finally crunched to a stop on a circular gravel drive. Trees surrounded the home in every direction, but the clearing here was open and bright, light filtering down in golden shafts that shimmered through the mist.
Then something moved to their right—massive and slow.
Ash turned and gasped.
An Onix lay coiled near the edge of the trees, its stone body still and silent like a sleeping mountain. Moss clung to its ridges, and one closed eye cracked open as their car door creaked. It watched them—calm but alert, like a guardian carved from the earth itself.
Ash stepped out slowly, breath caught in his throat.
"It's real," he whispered. "Dad… that's a real Onix."
David nodded. "Your grandfather's. One of the two who stayed after he passed. They've been with my mother ever since."
Ash stared at the towering beast, mesmerized. Even resting, it radiated power—not threatening, but ancient. Wise.
The great serpent closed its eye and returned to stillness.
They walked toward the front door, gravel crunching underfoot. The entrance stood two stories tall, framed by black-stained wood and carved stone pillars. A symbol—a tree with a flame at its roots—was etched into the front arch.
David raised his hand and knocked once.
The door creaked open.
Standing there—arms out, back straight, eyes sharp and warm—was a woman wrapped in a forest-green shawl, her silver-streaked hair braided neatly down her shoulder.
Ash blinked. He recognized her instantly from photos.
His grandmother.
"Mother," David greeted softly, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her.
"David," she replied, her voice firm, low, and proud as she returned the hug—tight and unhurried. For a moment, the years melted off David's face, and Ash saw not just his father, but a son coming home.
Then she pulled back slightly and looked past him.
"And Annie," she said warmly. "Still the only one who could keep my son grounded."
Annie smiled, stepping forward. "It's good to see you again, Mom."
His grandmother didn't hesitate. She pulled Annie into a hug too—shorter than David's, but just as sincere. "It's been too long. You look wonderful. I hope David's not working you to the bone."
"Only on weekends," Annie teased.
They laughed, and the years of separation seemed to vanish.
Then her gaze dropped to Ash, eyes softening.
"And this must be Ash."
Ash froze, unsure what to say. She wasn't what he'd expected—not frail or hunched or trembling with age. She was rooted. Like the trees outside. Strong in a quiet, patient way.
She stepped forward, cupped his face gently, and kissed his forehead.
"I see your father in you," she said. "And someone else entirely."
Ash flushed but smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Grandmother."
Her eyes twinkled. "Just Grandma is fine. The other title makes me feel like I should start swinging a cane."
David laughed. "You'd turn that cane into a weapon."
"Exactly," she said without missing a beat.
She turned, guiding them into the house.
Ash stepped over the threshold and his breath caught again.
The inside was no less grand than the outside. High vaulted ceilings. Long wooden beams stretched like ribs across the roof. Woven tapestries lined the walls—depictions of Pokémon and humans standing side by side, fighting together, dancing, laughing. A central staircase split in two directions, curving upward toward the balcony halls above.
Below the staircase, curled beside a stone hearth like a loyal sentinel, lay a second Pokémon—Arcanine.
It was huge.
At over six feet tall, it dwarfed Ash. When it rose slightly to inspect them, Ash instinctively stepped back. But then it blinked—slowly, thoughtfully—and warmth wrapped around him like a blanket beside a fire.
Its mane was tinged with white from age, but its eyes still gleamed with fierce, unshaken loyalty.
"That's Blaze," Grandma said softly. "Your grandfather's other partner. He's been with me ever since..."
Ash crouched carefully and extended his hand, feeling heat rise the closer he got.
The Arcanine sniffed, then gently pressed its massive head into Ash's palm, breath hot and steady, ruffling his hair with a low chuff.
Ash smiled, heart pounding.
He didn't know what he'd expected when they arrived.
But this? This was family.
Old, powerful, and very much alive.
***
Ash stood on the broad stone steps, arms crossed as he leaned against a wooden pillar, half-shadowed beneath the overhang. The morning mist was burning off slowly, replaced by golden sunlight flickering through the trees. Birds sang overhead, and somewhere in the back garden, someone was laughing.
But Ash didn't laugh. He watched.
The first arrivals had seemed normal enough—one or two cars with friendly faces and excited Pokémon. He'd even smiled when an Absol padded up to sniff his shoes, curious and calm.
But now things were changing.
The gravel drive filled with sound as a sleek black SUV pulled in, engine deep and humming. Then another. And another. Vehicles stretched back down the forest road, some matte and dusty, others polished to a mirror finish. All expensive. All serious.
Powerful Pokémon began stepping out before their trainers—Scizor, Electivire, an Ursaluna that let out a low rumble, making the Onix near the tree line stir. Each one felt like its own storm cloud, coiled and ready.
The cousins came next. Tall. Confident. Talking fast and loud. Some wore sleek gear that screamed combat trainer, others casual, stylish outfits that looked effortless and intentional.
One girl flicked her long teal braid over her shoulder and waved to Freya. Another young man with two Pokéballs slung like revolvers across his belt laughed as he tossed his jacket onto a perch, revealing a perfectly stitched clan emblem on his shoulder.
Ash's hands clenched in his sleeves.
They looked sure. Every one of them. Like they belonged here. Like they knew their place and had earned it.
And Ash? He felt like a child again—not because of his size, but because of the creeping pressure behind his ribs. That old sensation from his other life whispered: they're all watching. They're judging. You're an outsider pretending to fit in.
David was somewhere near the stables, greeting cousins with warm handshakes and shoulder slaps. Ash didn't call out to him.
Instead, he stood still, watching the growing crowd with narrowed eyes.
He saw someone lift a baby from a car seat while a Venusaur bent to nuzzle it gently. He saw a boy around his age do a backflip off a Salamence and stick the landing while his sisters cheered. More cousins piled into the yard, hugging and wrestling and shouting old inside jokes.
Ash just watched.
He'd seen big families before. In his other life, they always carried the same pattern—too many smiles, too much gossip, and always a hidden hierarchy: who was the favorite, who was the disappointment, who was only tolerated.
He didn't want to be anyone's disappointment here. But more than that, he didn't want to need this.
Not yet.
So he kept his back straight, expression blank, and told himself he was only here to learn, to train, and to meet his Pokémon. Nothing more.
But as another car pulled up and a powerful Flygon emerged with wings that shimmered like green glass, Ash's stomach twisted.
He crossed his arms tighter.
Don't get comfortable, he thought. Not until you know the rules of the game.
***
Hours later, Ash stood near the berry grove, fingers curled around a steaming cup of spiced tea someone's Arcanine had helped heat. The warmth seeped into his palms as laughter filled the forest clearing around the ancestral home.
He was in the gathering now—not apart from it.
People greeted him by name. He greeted them back. He answered questions, smiled at jokes, and even chuckled when a Butterfree landed in someone's hair and refused to leave. He was trying. He wanted to belong. But a quiet part of him—an old habit from another life—still waited for the catch.
Because big families always had one. Hidden judgments. Power games. Expectations you couldn't live up to.
He scanned the yard casually.
Fancy cars lined the outer drive. Pokémon—some rare or powerful—lounged or played with their trainers. A Rapidash sunbathed near the koi pond. A Gardevoir was helping lay protective wards around outdoor tables. One of the Elders had a Haxorus that was... gardening?
This is not normal, Ash thought.
A group of kids ran by, one squealing with laughter, a tiny Pichu clinging to his shirt like a mischievous accessory. Ash glanced over in time to see the boy sneak behind an Elder—an older man in his seventies, with a white beard and a walking cane propped against a bench.
The kid was holding a water balloon.
He threw it.
Smack!
Water exploded on the man's back.
Ash winced. Here it comes.
But instead of rage or rebuke, the Elder turned slowly, hands raised, face aghast with theatrical drama.
"A surprise attack! A traitor in our midst!"
The kid burst into giggles and ran. The Elder chased after him, limping dramatically, shouting curses like a cartoon villain.
Nearby adults laughed. Someone whistled. Even the kid's mother just shook her head with an amused sigh.
Ash's shoulders, which he hadn't realized were tense, eased slightly.
That was not what I expected.
Later, by the training ring, two cousins faced off—one with a muscular Electivire, the other with a sleek Espeon. They traded flashy moves and quick footwork, Pokémon darting and dodging, their trainers shouting commands.
Ash watched with interest—he loved seeing how different trainers handled battle tempo. In the end, Espeon won with a brilliant feint that looped its tail around Electivire's ankle just long enough to trip it.
The loser laughed, walked over, and threw an arm around his cousin's shoulder. "If I'd had one more second—"
"You'd still be on your back," the other said, grinning.
Their Pokémon touched foreheads in wordless mutual respect.
Ash smiled faintly. He would've liked to battle, maybe. Just a little.
Maybe later.
A sweet, smoky scent tugged at his nose. He turned and spotted younger kids roasting berries over the back of a sleepy Quilava. Its flames were low, controlled, like a moving campfire. The children handed it snacks and thanked it like an old friend.
Ash found himself walking closer. A girl offered him a roasted bluk berry.
He took it. "Thanks."
"You're Ash, right?" she asked. "Freya's nephew?"
"That's me."
"Cool. You got the weird eyes."
Ash blinked, then laughed. "Yeah. I get that a lot."
The girl nodded and ran off without another word.
Then a voice rang out from the veranda:
"Alright, you overfed softies! First one to the top of that pine wins! No powers!"
Ash turned toward the source.
An old man—definitely an Elder—stood barefoot on a bench, shirt halfway unbuttoned, pointing dramatically toward the tallest tree on the property.
Several teenagers groaned.
"Oh no. Not again."
"He cheated last year!"
"He always cheats!"
The Elder gave a wicked grin. "And yet you always lose."
Ash expected a joke, maybe a half-hearted climb.
But the man bolted.
Ash nearly dropped his berry as the Elder ran with startling speed and scrambled up the tree, boots digging into bark clearly using his Aura.
Teenagers sprinted after him, shouting. Cynthia and Freya were already halfway up the trunk. One girl screamed as a Mankey knocked her off course, clearly an accomplice.
Ash laughed—actually laughed.
And that's when it hit him.
No one was pretending here.
They weren't trying to impress. Or intimidate. Or dominate.
They were just being themselves.
Weird. Loud. Joyful. Fierce. And totally unconcerned with appearances.
It wasn't chaos. It was connection.
Ash looked around slowly, realizing he'd stopped waiting for someone to ruin the illusion.
He tucked that thought deep inside, still warm in his chest as he stepped back toward the fire to roast another berry.
***
Ash wandered toward the base of the great pine tree, still watching the climbing race unfold like some bizarre forest Olympics. Cynthia had nearly reached the top, boots expertly braced against a branch, and Freya wasn't far behind—scowling as a Pidgeotto launched a gust of wind that clearly favored Cynthia.
Ash shook his head with a smile. That woman really got under Freya's skin.
Cynthia. The name stirred something. A sharp memory—blonde hair flowing like a cape, a regal Garchomp behind her, cold eyes that turned warm when no one was watching.
He glanced up at her again.
Even here—laughing, flushed from the climb, dressed in forest-toned casuals—she looked just like the one from the anime. It was eerie. Almost cinematic.
Ash lingered on the edge of the courtyard, watching chaos unfold like a wildfire made of laughter and Pokémon mischief. The towering pines swayed in rhythm with the breeze, casting shifting light over the wide forest clearing.
Nearby, kids his age were trying to balance on the back of a slow-turning Donphan like it was some kind of game. One fell off with a squeak and landed in the grass, and instead of scolding, the older cousin guiding them burst out laughing.
Ash smiled, shoulders loosening without him realizing it.
He turned to head toward the stone benches when he heard a voice call out.
"Gary! Come on, we're gonna miss the berry roast!"
Ash froze.
Gary.
He turned slowly to see a sharp-eyed boy—his age—arguing playfully with a girl over some unspoken competition. The boy had neatly styled hair and the kind of confident stride that screamed favorite child. His smirk looked painfully familiar.
Gary Oak. He didn't look exactly the same, but the name—and the energy—was unmistakable.
Ash's gaze swept across the courtyard.
A tall boy with auburn-red hair stood near the edge of the group, arms crossed, quietly observing a pair of older cousins sparring in a mock battle. There was no arrogance to him, just calm focus. His eyes flicked toward Ash once, and they held each other's gaze for a moment too long.
"Lance," someone said behind him.
Another name that struck like thunder.
Ash blinked and turned away, pretending not to react—but his heart was picking up speed.
To the left, a girl with bright violet hair and a mischievous grin was tossing a berry between her hands while teasing younger cousins. Her laugh was loud, sharp, but not mean. When one of the little kids tried to grab the berry, she let them win with a wink.
"Iris," murmured someone walking past. "Can't wait to see what Pokémon she gets."
They were everywhere.
Lorelei sat cross-legged by a rock pool, trailing her fingers through cool water, eyes thoughtful. Her glacier-blue hair shimmered in the sun, and she seemed oblivious to the noise around her.
He swallowed.
They're the same names. Similar faces.
And then he saw him.
Red.
He was older—maybe thirty or thirty-two—and already looked like the kind of man who didn't need to raise his voice to be respected. His jacket was worn and faded at the cuffs, and a belt with six Pokéballs hung loosely at his side. The air shifted around him, not from Aura, but presence.
Ash didn't need a name to know.
That was Red.
The strongest in David's generation. The kind of cousin everyone else measured themselves against.
He was standing off to the side, arms folded, quietly talking to David. Occasionally, he'd glance toward the kids—Ash included—and there was no malice in his eyes. Just calm, serious watchfulness.
Ash felt like he'd just stepped into a story.
Not a fantasy. Not a dream.
A living, breathing legacy.
***
The sun had begun to dip behind the trees, draping the courtyard in gold and amber. The sounds of laughter and playful challenges still echoed, but Ash found himself wandering alone, a plate of berries in hand. He wasn't hiding—not exactly. But he was taking a moment. Letting it all settle.
That was when he heard footsteps behind him—light, almost musical.
"You look like you're pretending not to be overwhelmed," said a teasing voice.
Ash turned to see a tall girl with long platinum-blonde hair tied back in a loose braid. She wore a sleeveless jacket over a dark top, her stance relaxed, confident.
Cynthia.
Her smile was playful but not cruel. It reminded him of Freya's grin—just with more restraint.
"You're Ash, right?" she asked, popping a roasted nut into her mouth. "Newest little prodigy? The talk of the courtyard?"
Ash blinked. "I—uh... I guess?"
Cynthia grinned wider and leaned in like she was about to share a secret.
"Freya says you've got that intense stare like your dad used to have. She also says you talk way too much like an adult for a kid your age."
Ash rubbed the back of his neck. "I get that a lot."
"She finds it weirdly endearing," Cynthia added, straightening again. "Don't worry. You'll grow on everyone. Like moss. Quiet. Steady. Clingy."
Ash laughed, startled by how genuine it felt.
She winked and turned to walk away. "See you at dinner, moss boy."
He watched her go, his smile lingering longer than it should have. She hadn't felt like an obstacle. Or a test. Just... family. Weird, wild family.
Then a presence passed nearby—a quiet ripple in the space.
Red.
He didn't stop. Didn't say anything.
Just gave Ash a small nod as he walked past.
But that nod said more than words could.
I see you. You're one of us.
***
Ash followed the crowd into the great hall as dusk settled beyond the arched windows. The dining room was vast but not grand in the cold way mansions usually were. Mismatched chairs surrounded long wooden tables that groaned under the weight of food—roasted vegetables, smoked meat, platters of fresh forest fruit, and more dishes than Ash could name.
Laughter echoed from every corner.
Someone bumped into Ash lightly and handed him a warm roll. "Eat fast or Freya will steal your plate."
Ash blinked, then realized it was David who said it, already walking away, grinning.
He took a seat between two cousins he'd barely spoken to all day—and still felt welcomed. They made room for him without comment, passed him the jug of berry cider like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A toast was called halfway through the meal. One of the Elders stood up, mug raised, and boomed, "To the next generation—may they summon their Pokémon without setting anything on fire!"
The hall roared with laughter.
Even Grandma chuckled into her tea.
Then a Banette floated up onto the rafters, shifting its shadowy form into exaggerated imitations of family members—an Elder pretending to be majestic and regal, Cynthia tossing her hair dramatically, Freya trying to look composed before tripping on a chair.
Ash laughed until his sides hurt.
His guard, his doubts, his practiced emotional distance—all of it slowly peeled away under the warmth of real connection.
This wasn't a court of politics.
This was a pack. A clan. A family.
***
Late Evening: Under the Stars
The mansion had quieted after the whirlwind of dinner. Laughter still floated faintly through the stone walls, but most had retired indoors—full-bellied, smiling, exhausted.
Ash sat alone on the broad stone steps at the back of the mansion, elbows on his knees, chin tilted up toward the sky. The stars above Forks were sharper here than anywhere he'd seen—pinpricks of light threading through the black like silver embroidery. The trees surrounding the estate stood like dark titans, whispering softly in the breeze.
His mind drifted—not to battles or summons, but to questions he hadn't asked out loud.
What kind of Pokémon will come when I call? Will I be strong enough for it? Will it... like me?
Crunch.
He turned at the soft sound of footsteps. Two figures stepped into the moonlight—one taller, one lean and lively.
"Hey," Gary said, plopping down beside him without waiting for permission. "Nice night."
Iris flopped down on Ash's other side with a sigh. "Ugh, I thought dinner would never end. My stomach's about to explode."
Ash smiled faintly. "You didn't have to eat five of those berry pies."
"They were small pies," she defended. "And delicious."
Gary leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out. "You've been quiet all day, Ash."
Ash shrugged. "Just... watching. Everyone's so close. It's nice."
Gary gave him a side glance, then grinned. "We're your family too, y'know. You don't have to watch from the sidelines."
Iris nodded. "Exactly. You're like, what, eight? That makes you everyone's little brother now. Deal with it."
Ash laughed. "Is that a threat?"
"No," Gary said, eyes twinkling. "It's a promise."
The three sat in comfortable silence, stars glimmering overhead.
Then Iris added, "Tomorrow's gonna be huge. You nervous?"
Ash considered. "Yeah. A little. I've never done anything like this before."
Gary nodded slowly. "Same. But... I think that's kind of the point, right? You don't know what you'll get. You just have to show up. Be ready."
Ash looked between the two of them—cousins he'd barely known this morning, now sitting on either side like they'd grown up together.
He felt like one of them.
Gary nudged him with his shoulder. "Get some sleep, champ. We've got legends to summon tomorrow."
"Try not to oversleep and miss it," Iris teased, standing up and stretching. "Wouldn't want your Pokémon thinking you're lazy."
Ash grinned. "Noted."
They headed back inside, leaving Ash alone with the stars again.
_________________________________________
A.N. Had a lot of trouble writing this chapter, after going through various versions, this was the one that felt okay to post, but I admit I am not that satisfied with this chapter....
What do you guys think? Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know your thoughts in down in the comments!
P.S. GIVE ME POWER STONES!!!