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Mew, it’s all so stupid. It’s so fucking stupid.
He’s in a van and he doesn’t know how he got here but he’s got a pretty good idea. Ash can feel that Pikachu’s nearby, even though he can’t see him. And Ash doesn’t have confirmation, not yet, because there’s a divider between the back, where he is, and the front, where whoever's driving this stupid vehicle is, but he’s pretty damn sure that it's another one of those leftover Team Flare loyalists, after him once again for revenge.
“Have some fucking creativity!” He shouts, at the divider. They probably can’t hear him. It makes him feel better anyway.
Because the thing is, like. This is the ninth or tenth time it’s happened. They come literally every week . And sure, Ash should probably do something about it. He should probably tell Professor Kukui, or, like, one of the Champions on the whole Team Flare cleanup business. But he’s so used to it now and they’re comically easy to defeat, all quick enough to be back in time for breakfast, or at least for school. The few times he’s come back a little late, he’s always just told Professor Kukui he did some early morning training and lost track of time. Which, like, that does happen. All the time.
And besides, he’s getting plenty of training against these brutes. In fact, he should be thanking them. They’re keeping him in shape.
The first time it happened, he has to admit: he was a little scared. Because it was his second week in a new region, and he’d left Kalos two weeks before, and he went to sleep on the couch in the loft Professor Kukui had so graciously offered Ash (even though he was perfectly fine with just camping out on the beach until he got bored with school and moved on) and then woke up in a car, a man wearing that orange clothing staring straight at him.
And yeah, it got him a little spooked. Ash, at that time (and still now, maybe, though he’s had quite a bit of exposure therapy), was still…not quite fond of what happened in Kalos, with Team Flare. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the way they, like, specifically targeted him and his pokemon, the way he woke up, all his limbs restrained, on the top of the tallest fucking building in Kalos. So forgive him if that color of orange was maybe a bit triggering.
He’d yelled right in the guy’s face, instinctively going for a punch. It connected, since the guy hadn’t even had the sense to restrain him. Somehow they’d gotten Ash out without Pikachu following him, so he’d been all on his own that time. He’d pushed and shoved and kicked the guy enough that he was curling over in pain, and then crawled over to where the driver was, grabbed the steering wheel, and swerved it as far as he could.
And, yeah. Maybe he crashed the van. But he was out of there almost before the guys could blink, and he found a pencil and paper in the glove compartment and wrote “Team Flare loyalists,” and was back at Professor Kukui’s house before breakfast.
Pikachu had crawled all over him, demanding where he’d been, what was wrong, why Ash was still trembling (what? No he wasn’t). And Ash had told him, and he’d nearly ran out the door, electricity sparking out of his cheeks, before Ash made him promise not to. And then he’d eaten the waffles Professor Kukui had served him, and he got through the whole day without anyone noticing anything amiss.
After that, Pikachu’s almost always found a way to follow him. Ash literally doesn’t know how they keep getting him here without him waking up. Is he just that deep of a sleeper? Or maybe Pikachu doesn’t fight them because he doesn’t want to make a mess of Professor Kukui’s house?
Which, like, yeah. Thanks, Pikachu.
Because, honestly, Ash does not want Professor Kukui finding out about this whole thing. If he did, then he would one: be incredibly overprotective and worried, like he always is, and two: Ash might have to explain the reason why Team Flare loyalists are after him anyway.
He’s not particularly keen on having that conversation.
Which brings him to the current issue: Ash is wearing Professor Kukui’s sweatshirt. Ash has been in Alola for almost three months, and last night he got sort of cold, so Professor Kukui had wordlessly tossed him a sweatshirt. And he went to sleep in it. Mew, he should be smarter by now. He should always be expecting that he might wake up in the middle of a kidnapping attempt.
Because he gets sort of dirty, sometimes, in his escape attempts. Sometimes they pull out their pokemon. Sometimes he gets scorch marks in a few of his shirts. Ash doesn’t mind if his clothes get dirty.
But this is Professor Kukui’s. Ash does mind if Professor Kukui’s clothes get dirty.
So he needs to be a little more careful about this attempt.
Ash can see out of the windows, and it’s already sunrise, which means that he’s running out of time. He probably has - what, an hour until school starts? At most?
He can’t recognize where they are by the streets. They’re on a lonely road surrounded by green mountains - gods, Alola really is beautiful, isn’t it? - and they’re going relatively fast.
Fast enough that if he tries to jump out, he will definitely risk damaging the sweatshirt. And, also, maybe himself.
Ash can’t see Pikachu, but he can feel him on the edges of his senses, which means he’s probably hiding. On the top? Under? Somewhere.
The divider is still up. Ash would prefer if he didn’t cause another car accident. He heard Mallow and Sophocles talking about how their parents mentioned there’s been a lot more car accidents in the news recently; cars swerving into trees and light poles and off the road, even when there’s no other cars.
Besides, sometimes they make his neck hurt.
No one responded when he shouted at them before. He crawls up next to the divider and knocks on it. There’s no response. He keeps knocking on it until, finally, someone opens it.
He’s looking at the annoyed face of a stupid fucking orange-clothed loyalist. There’s one in shotgun, and one in the driver's seat. Okay. Ash can take two people, easy. Especially if Pikachu’s here.
“Knock knock,” he says.
“Shut the fuck up, brat,” the guy responds.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Who’s there,’” Ash says. “Try again. Knock knock.”
The guy reaches his arm through, grabbing the collar of Professor Kukui’s sweatshirt. Ew, he’s probably getting orange fluff from his gloves on it. “You wanna try being funny again, kid?” he says, teeth bared. Ash supposes he’s trying to be threatening, but mostly his breath just stinks.
So Ash tells him that.
The guy’s pulling him even closer, so Ash tries one of those moves he’s seen in the action movies Professor Kukui loves to show him, and brings his head forward to hit it against the guy’s face.
The force of it is enough to make him yelp in pain, something crunching, and let go of Professor Kukui’s shirt. However, it’s also enough to make Ash’s hurt just as bad. Ouch.
He pushes past it, though, jumping through the divider, toward the passenger-side door. He pushes down on the window button, yelling “Pikachu!” as soon as it opens. This does leave him lying in the guy’s lap, which is a little unfortunate, considering he just insulted his breath and then hit him on the face. And maybe broke his nose.
The guy grabs him around the throat and holds him against his body. With Ash in this position, he’s in the perfect place for some blood from the guy’s nose to drip onto the front of Professor Kukui’s jacket. “Dude!” he shouts, but it’s all he can get out before the grip is tightened around his windpipe.
Ugh. The guy probably just wants him to shut up.
The driver, during this whole commotion, has just been driving steadily ahead. He keeps glancing over but he’s not stopping, which is what Ash would prefer. He’s still trying to avoid that accident. He’s already gotten blood on Professor Kukui’s hoodie. He doesn’t need to also make another news headline.
It’s at this time that Pikachu shoots in through the open window, and Ash uses his position to hit the back of his head against the guy’s face. He shouts in pain, again, but then tightens his grip more. Okay, Pikachu, a little help? He’s starting to feel the urgency of the situation because of the lack of air passing through his windpipes.
Pikachu, in an indiscriminate destruction move, instead of, perhaps, a little bit more - selectivity? Please? - just thunderbolts the whole fucking car, which means the driver, Ash, and the guy choking him.
He does suppose it works. When the thunderbolt’s over, the guy holding him slackens.
So does the driver.
Ash jumps over to the driver's seat, trying to steer. “The brake, Pikachu, the brake!” he shouts. While he keeps the car straight, Pikachu crawls down to wear the pedals are. He presses on one. It makes the car go faster. “For the love of Mew, Pikachu!” Ash yells, his voice hoarse. “The other one!”
Finally, he presses the right one, and the car comes to a stop. Ash is left sitting there, for a moment, still on the passenger’s lap. He puts the car in park. He slowly leans over, unlocking the driver's side door, and stumbles out. He needs to hold onto the car to not fall over. Pikachu hops out, landing on his chest. Ash leans against the metal, petting him. “Well, we got out,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse. He hopes it goes away by the time school starts. Maybe he can just say there’s a froakie in his throat.
He’s still not sure where they are. But Professor Kukui got him a phone - at least he had the sense to go to sleep with this - so he checks the GPS, and it’s only, like, an hour’s walk back to the house. Ash can definitely make that in half the time.
He looks down at Professor Kukui’s hoodie. There’s some blood on the collar, and scorch marks from Pikachu’s thunderbolt. Fuck. Mew, he wanted to keep this clean!
He starts the walk back home, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt. He still feels a little unsteady on his feet, but it’s whatever. These guys are just training him. Keeping him in shape. It’s all good.
He takes the forty-minute walk (it takes him a little longer than half an hour, but that’s probably just because it’s taking a little more effort to breathe than usual) to consider maybe, just maybe, calling Champion Steven or Diantha about this. They’d probably be able to keep this quiet. Kukui wouldn’t have to know. He wouldn’t have to know.
Would it be better if he just pretended to lose the sweatshirt? Ugh, he doesn’t want the professor to be disappointed in him, though.
He gets back to the house. It’s empty. School must’ve started already.
He takes a few minutes, there. He takes off the sweatshirt. He tries to wash out the blood. He thinks he’s mostly successful. The scorch marks…well, he can say that was from training.
It’s good. It’s completely good. It’s all going to be fine.
But ruining Professor Kukui’s sweatshirt’s knocked some sense into him, maybe. He doesn’t even need the gentle prodding from Pikachu, like he does every time, to realize that he should maybe deal with this the right way.
And so he gets ready for school, grabs his backpack, and, on the way to school, dials a number.
“Hello, Champion Diantha?” he says, trying not to let the hoarseness in his voice show. “There’s something you should know about.”