Chapter Text
The roar was deafening.
Across six regions, in living rooms and community centers, on street corners and in Pokemon Centers, hundreds of millions of people watched their screens as confetti rained down on Wyndon Stadium. Children pressed their faces against windows. Adults stopped mid-conversation. Even wild Pokemon seemed to pause in forests and caves, sensing something momentous rippling through the world.
The boy from Pallet Town had done it.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" The announcer's voice cracked with emotion as it echoed across the stadium and through every broadcast. "YOUR NEW WORLD CHAMPION... ASH KETCHUM!"
The stadium erupted. Sixty thousand people rose to their feet as one, their cheers creating a wall of sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of Galar. Fireworks exploded overhead in brilliant cascades of gold and silver, painting the evening sky in celebration.
And at the center of it all stood Ash, still barely believing it was real.
The trophy was heavier than he'd imagined.
Ash's hands trembled slightly as League Chairman Rose placed the gleaming World Championship trophy in his arms. The metal was warm from the stadium lights, and he could see his reflection distorted in its polished surface – older now than the boy who'd left Pallet Town, but his eyes still held that same fire that had burned through every defeat, every setback, every moment when the world had told him he wasn't good enough.
"Champion Ash Ketchum," Rose said, his voice carrying across the stadium's sound system. "You have achieved what trainers have dreamed of for generations. How does it feel?"
Ash looked out at the sea of faces, at the banners bearing his name, at the camera drones hovering like mechanical Zubat to capture every angle of this moment. His throat felt tight.
"It feels..." He paused, searching for words that could encompass everything – every gym battle, every league tournament, every friend who'd believed in him when he'd stopped believing in himself. "It feels like the beginning."
The crowd roared its approval. Somewhere in the stands, he could see Gary Oak pumping his fist in the air, his rivalry transformed into something deeper over the years. Dawn was crying, her Piplup dancing on her shoulder. Brock stood with his arms crossed but his smile was unmistakable.
"Pikachu," Ash whispered, looking down at his partner who sat on his shoulder, tiny paws wrapped around the edge of the trophy. "We did it, buddy."
"Pika pika," Pikachu replied softly, and somehow those simple syllables contained everything they'd shared – every thunderbolt that had saved them, every moment Pikachu had refused to give up on him, every night they'd slept under the stars dreaming of this exact moment.
As photographers swarmed and officials prepared for the formal presentation, Ash caught a glimpse of Leon in the crowd – the former champion he'd just defeated. Leon's smile was genuine as he applauded, no trace of bitterness in his expression. That meant more to Ash than any trophy ever could.
The hotel room was blessedly quiet.
Ash slumped against the closed door, still wearing his championship jacket but having long since loosened his tie. The trophy sat on the room's small table, catching the light from Wyndon's skyline outside his window. Room service had delivered enough food for a small army – a gesture from the League – but neither he nor Pikachu had much appetite.
"You know what's weird, Pikachu?" Ash said, kicking off his dress shoes and settling cross-legged on the carpet. Pikachu hopped down from the bed to curl up beside him. "I thought it would feel different. Like the moment I won, everything would change."
"Pika?"
"But I still feel like... me. Like that kid who couldn't even catch a Caterpie properly." Ash reached over to scratch behind Pikachu's ears, earning a content purr. "Maybe that's not a bad thing though."
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the flood of messages that had been pouring in all evening. Misty had sent a photo of herself and her sisters celebrating at the Cerulean Gym. May had included a video of her Pokemon performing what looked like a victory dance. There were messages from gym leaders, Elite Four members, and trainers he'd met across his journey.
But it was the simple text from his mother that made his eyes water: "I'm so proud of you, sweetie. Your father would be too."
Ash set the phone aside and looked at the trophy again. Tomorrow would bring new responsibilities, new challenges, new expectations. Tonight was just for them – him and the partner who'd never given up, who'd shocked a Raichu when everyone said it was impossible, who'd refused a Thunder Stone because their bond was stronger than evolution.
"Whatever comes next," Ash said quietly, "we'll face it together. Just like always."
Pikachu's response was to climb onto his lap and settle there, a small anchor of warmth and certainty in a world that suddenly felt vast with possibility.
The press conference room buzzed with the controlled chaos of international media. Cameras flashed like strobe lights as Ash took his seat behind a table laden with microphones bearing logos from networks across every region. The questions came rapid-fire, a blur of languages and accents that somehow all meant the same thing: Tell us what it means to be the very best.
"Champion Ketchum," called a reporter from Hoenn Broadcasting, "what's your message to young trainers watching around the world?"
Ash leaned forward, his voice steady despite the overwhelming attention. "Don't give up. I know everyone says that, but... I lost my first gym battle. Badly. I lost league tournaments. I made mistakes that cost me and my Pokemon. But every failure taught me something, and every defeat made the victories mean more."
"Any plans to settle down now that you've achieved your dream?" This from a Sinnoh Times journalist.
"This isn't the end of my dream," Ash replied, surprising himself with the certainty in his voice. "It's like I said at the ceremony – this feels like the beginning. There are still Pokemon I haven't met, places I haven't explored, people who need help. Being Champion isn't about sitting on a throne. It's about using that platform to make the world better."
The questions continued, but Ash found himself falling into a rhythm. These weren't the scripted responses his handlers had suggested – they were coming from somewhere deeper, more honest. He talked about the friends who'd shaped him, the Pokemon who'd sacrificed for him, the mentors who'd seen potential when he couldn't see it himself.
"One final question," announced the moderator. "What's next for Champion Ash Ketchum?"
Ash glanced at Pikachu, who gave him an encouraging nod from his perch beside the microphones.
"I want to create a program for trainers from regions that don't have established leagues," he said. "Too many talented people never get the chance to pursue their dreams because they don't have the resources or connections. If being Champion gives me the power to change that..." He smiled. "Then maybe losing all those tournaments was worth it."
The room erupted in more questions, but the moderator was already thanking everyone for their time. As Ash was escorted out through a service corridor, he caught a glimpse of the headlines already forming on tablet screens: "Champion's Crusade: Ketchum Promises Global Change" and "The People's Champion: Ash's Vision for Pokemon Training's Future."
He had no idea how prescient that last headline would prove to be.
The League's victory banquet was held in Wyndon's most prestigious hotel, its ballroom glittering with crystal chandeliers and filled with the most powerful figures in the Pokemon world. Ash felt oddly detached as he moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations from gym leaders and Elite Four members, posing for photos with sponsors who'd ignored him just years before.
"Quite a journey from Viridian Forest, wouldn't you say?"
Ash turned to find Lance approaching, the former Indigo Champion's red hair unmistakable even in the dim lighting. They'd battled before, during Ash's earliest championship attempts, and Lance had always treated him with respect even when others dismissed him as just another rookie.
"Sometimes it feels like yesterday," Ash admitted, accepting the glass of sparkling cider Lance offered. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago."
"The hardest part isn't winning," Lance said quietly, his eyes scanning the room. "It's figuring out what to do with the victory. Everyone will want a piece of you now – sponsors, politicians, people who think your success validates their own agendas."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."
Lance's smile was rueful. "I've seen too many good trainers lose themselves in the machinery of fame. Don't let them change who you are, Ash. The world needs that kid from Pallet Town, not whatever they try to mold you into."
Before Ash could respond, Chairman Rose appeared at his elbow, all polished smiles and calculated charm. "Champion Ketchum! I hope you're enjoying the celebration. There are some people I'd like you to meet – representatives from the International Pokemon League Council."
As Rose led him away, Ash caught Lance's eye over his shoulder. The Dragon master raised his glass in a small salute, and something in his expression looked almost like a warning.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of handshakes and small talk. Powerful figures made veiled offers of partnership, spoke about "maximizing his potential impact," and dropped hints about opportunities that could "really change the world." Ash smiled and nodded, but found himself thinking about Lance's words.
By the time he escaped back to his hotel room, his cheeks hurt from smiling and his head buzzed with names, faces, and half-understood political implications. The championship, he was beginning to realize, had made him more than just a trainer.
It had made him a symbol.
The video call connected with a soft chime, and Professor Oak's familiar face appeared on the hotel room's wall screen. Even through the digital connection, Ash could see the pride shining in the old man's eyes.
"My boy," Oak said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been researching Pokemon for over fifty years, and I don't think I've ever been prouder of any discovery than I am of watching you reach this moment."
"Professor..." Ash felt his throat tighten. Of all the congratulations he'd received, this meant the most. Oak had believed in him when he'd been a ten-year-old kid who couldn't even wake up on time for the most important day of his life.
"Your mother wanted to join the call, but she's been fielding interviews from reporters all day. Pallet Town has essentially turned into a festival. I think the entire population is celebrating in the streets."
"I wish I could be there," Ash said, and meant it. All the glitz and glamour of Wyndon felt hollow compared to the simple joy he imagined seeing in his hometown.
"You will be soon enough. But first, we need to talk about what comes next." Oak's expression grew more serious. "Being World Champion isn't just about the battles, Ash. You're going to be pulled in a dozen directions by people who want to use your influence. You need to decide what kind of Champion you want to be."
"What do you mean?"
Oak was quiet for a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully. "There are forces in the Pokemon world – political, economic, sometimes darker things – that operate in the shadows. Champions throughout history have either been shaped by these forces or have chosen to shape them instead. The choice you make will determine not just your own future, but potentially the future of Pokemon training itself."
"Professor, you're scaring me a little."
Oak's smile was gentle but his eyes remained grave. "I don't mean to frighten you, my boy. I just want you to be prepared. The world is going to test you in ways that no gym leader or Elite Four member ever could. Trust your instincts. Trust your friends. And remember – the bond you share with Pikachu is stronger than any political machination or corporate interest."
As if summoned by his name, Pikachu appeared on camera, settling on Ash's shoulder with a cheerful "Pika pika!"
Oak chuckled. "And make sure this little fellow keeps you grounded. Pokemon have a way of cutting through human complications to reach the truth."
They talked for another hour about lighter things – Oak's research, mutual friends, Ash's plans to visit Pallet Town. But as the call ended and the screen went dark, Oak's warning echoed in Ash's mind.
Forces in the shadows. The choice you make will determine the future.
What choice? And why did it suddenly feel like he was standing at the edge of a cliff he couldn't see?
Ash stood at his hotel room window, looking out at Wyndon's glittering skyline. The city never slept – even now, past midnight, traffic flowed through the streets below and lights twinkled in countless windows. Somewhere out there, trainers were probably battling in underground clubs, Pokemon were healing in centers, and tomorrow would bring new dreams and challenges.
The championship trophy sat beside him on the windowsill, its golden surface reflecting the city lights. Such a small thing to represent such a massive change in his life. This morning he'd been Ash Ketchum, determined challenger. Now he was Champion Ash Ketchum, with all the weight that title carried.
Pikachu was already asleep on the hotel bed, tiny body rising and falling with peaceful breaths. Ten years they'd been together now. Ten years of victories and defeats, of laughter and tears, of moments when they'd saved each other's lives and moments when they'd simply kept each other company in the dark.
"We really did it, didn't we?" Ash whispered to his sleeping partner.
Tomorrow would bring new responsibilities. The League had already scheduled meetings about his "champion duties" – exhibition matches, promotional appearances, policy consultations. The thought made him feel claustrophobic, but he pushed the feeling aside. He was the Champion now. This was what he'd worked for.
Ash pulled off his championship jacket and hung it carefully in the closet, treating it with the reverence of a religious artifact. As he changed into pajamas, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The same face that had looked back at him in countless Pokemon Center bathrooms, but somehow different. More serious. More weighted with purpose.
He climbed into bed carefully, trying not to wake Pikachu. The Egyptian cotton sheets were softer than anything he'd ever slept on – another reminder that his life had fundamentally changed. No more sleeping bags under the stars, no more cramped Pokemon Center bunks. The thought should have been comforting, but instead it felt like something precious had been lost.
As sleep began to take him, Ash's last conscious thought was a simple prayer of gratitude. He had everything he'd ever dreamed of. Tomorrow he would begin the work of being worthy of it.
If only he knew how few tomorrows he had left as a hero.
Twelve floors below, in a room that officially didn't exist, three figures sat in darkness watching multiple screens. News coverage from around the world painted the same picture – celebration, triumph, a fairy tale ending for the boy from Pallet Town.
"Phase One is complete," said the first figure, her voice clinical despite the momentous nature of what they were discussing. "The asset has achieved maximum public visibility and emotional investment."
"His psychological profile remains consistent," added the second, fingers dancing across a keyboard. "Stubborn, idealistic, prone to emotional decision-making. The bonds with his Pokemon and friends are genuine, which makes them perfect leverage points."
The third figure, clearly the leader, remained silent as she studied a photograph of Ash holding his championship trophy. Her face was hidden in shadow, but her eyes glinted with cold calculation.
"Madam?" prompted the first figure. "Are we proceeding to Phase Two?"
"Not yet." The leader's voice was silk over steel. "Let him enjoy his victory. Let the world fall completely in love with their new hero. The higher he rises, the further he'll fall."
She touched a control, and the screens switched to different feeds – security footage from the championship battle, social media posts celebrating Ash's victory, even amateur video of the celebrations in Pallet Town.
"When we're ready," she continued, "Champion Ash Ketchum won't just lose everything he's gained. He'll become the most hated figure in Pokemon history. And in his desperation, he'll give us exactly what we need."
The room fell silent except for the soft hum of electronics and the distant sound of Wyndon's traffic. Outside, the city slept peacefully, unaware that in one hotel room, a champion dreamed of the future, while twelve floors below, that future was being methodically destroyed before it could even begin.
The crown was heavy indeed.
But not nearly as heavy as the chains being forged to replace it.