Author's Note / Preface
1. This is an Ash × Misty fanfic. I will not bash other heroines or characters. Genre: Afterstory.
2. This work blends canon from the Pokémon anime and Takeshi Shudō's official novels.
3. Timeline: Near the end of the Diamond & Pearl arc. Since they are no longer just 10 years old, you may picture Ash and Misty between the ages of 12–18.
4. I will try to avoid OOC as much as possible, but some characters will receive extended characterization and backstory for the plot.
5. I originally planned to add formatting like italics and emphasis to the text, but I'm still learning how to do that properly. This version was copied straight from my notes, so I may post a more polished edition in the future.
Thank you for reading.
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The Road Not Taken
On a yellow plain, three roads diverged. One of them she had never walked with him. She stood at that fork for a long time, gazing far down one path. Now it lay overgrown — lush and wild, inviting, beautiful.
Misty slipped back here quietly, to the place where they had once said goodbye. The evening glow poured orange over everything; the setting sun pooled in her eyes. Longing hid somewhere inside the warmth of the light, pressing gently against her skin.
Ever since she took over the Cerulean Gym for her sisters, she'd rarely ridden that bicycle. Once, she had left from here. Now she came walking back from over there.
She thought of the last time she'd seen Brock — same as always, shuffling around awkwardly, asking if she'd introduce him to her sisters. Honestly. They'd finally managed to meet up, and that was all he wanted to talk about. He was still travelling with Ash, wasn't he? Across the fields of Hoenn, beneath the skies of Sinnoh — while she'd only crossed paths with them once or twice. Hmph. They'd said their goodbyes, and then those two idiots had gone and travelled through Hoenn with some other girl.
She thought of that girl — the one who'd journeyed with him. Hmph. Ash had gone and become somebody else's senior, and apparently they got along just fine — no constant bickering. But a blockhead was a blockhead. She wasn't going to lose sleep over it. Besides — her feelings had been that obvious. And he'd still missed every single sign.
Misty puffed out her cheeks and kicked a pebble off the road. A flock of Pidgey startled out of the grass.
The sky burned orange-violet above her. That shade of orange — Misty's color. She reached up slowly and pulled out her hair tie; an orange wave fell loose, spilling warm across her shoulders.
She wondered how he was doing. Would he think of her? She believed he probably would, eventually — he was the kind of person who felt things deeply.
She stepped softly onto the road Ash had taken that day — the road she hadn't chosen. A soft breeze moved through the evening air, and her heart beat in small, bright flickers.
This little trip was Misty's secret mission. While her sisters were back visiting, she'd left all her Pokémon at the Gym and slipped away. By the time they returned, all they'd find would be a bewildered Psyduck staring at the door. Speaking of bewildered — Ash was exactly the same. The very first time they'd met, he'd gone after a Pidgey with a Caterpie. Without her and Brock, he wouldn't have made it past Pewter Gym. Had he ever managed to shake that careless streak? Of course he hadn't. Without her around, who else would bother knocking some sense into that idiot?
She walked with her head down, searching for traces — for footprints. They would have pressed into this warm road on some evening long past, their owner running and crying.
"Thank you — Misty! Brock!"
He had shouted it so loud. The echo still seemed to hover somewhere near her ear. But he had only run with his eyes squeezed shut, his cap pulled low, his gaze hiding from the dusk.
She stepped carefully over each hollow that might have been a footprint. Every step seemed to sketch another detail of Ash into her mind — the way he always twisted his cap when he was being serious, the way he showed off each time he earned a Badge. Pikachu, always on his shoulder.
She pressed both palms hard against her eyes.
"You idiot," she muttered. "Pallet Town is barely any distance from Cerulean. It's not like I couldn't have come to find you. You made it feel like the end of the world."
She looked toward the horizon. The sun was almost kissing the earth. The evening glow had faded a little. She wished it were the morning sky instead — that she and Ash were still back in Viridian Forest, their journey just beginning. There were a lot of Bug-type Pokémon in Viridian Forest, and she was still a little afraid of them. But just like she'd gotten over her fear of Gyarados — why couldn't she find the courage to face Bug types? If a Caterpie came crawling out right now, maybe she wouldn't scream and run. She thought of Ash's Caterpie — his Butterfree now, long since set free.
Had she been set free, too? Once, they had tamed something in each other. Now they were worlds apart. But that was a selfish way to think about it. Butterfree had been released for love; she had left for the Gym. The one who had truly been set free wasn't her, and it wasn't Butterfree. It was Ash.
The thought made her flinch. And Butterfree wasn't alone — Pidgeot, Primeape, Lapras. After each of them was set free, how many times had any of them seen Ash again? If she hadn't left. If she'd stayed, gone with him to Hoenn, to Sinnoh, to Unova, to Kalos — she wouldn't have had to worry about no one being there to nag him when he did something stupid. And what if he was still making rookie mistakes? But even if she handed the Gym back to her sisters entirely, she no longer had a reason to travel with him the way she once had — not the way a wrecked bicycle had once given her a reason. Misty's eyelids drooped, then suddenly creased into a frown.
When it came down to it — he was the one who hadn't asked her to stay. It wasn't as if she'd said she would definitely never consider travelling with him again. Even if she wasn't his little sister. Even if she wasn't his girlfriend.
Darkness tore open a seam through the world — deep blue, bleeding in at the edges. The seam looked like a fishing rod, and Misty was the line, pulled back and forth against the weight of the fish. Reel it in, and she feared it would thrash and snap free. Let the line run, and she feared it would drift too far from shore. Even as the faint impressions of footprints faded away, she kept her eyes down and kept walking. Without noticing, the grass on either side had lost the color of the setting sun. Streetlights came on, one by one. The surroundings began to feel familiar.
A hand suddenly caught Misty's arm. She startled and looked back — it was a Mr. Mime in a green apron. The one from Ash's house? Mr. Mime pointed at the streetlight directly in front of her. She understood then: if it hadn't caught her, she'd have walked straight into the pole and given herself a bump on the head.
"Misty — is that you? Coming all the way to Pallet Town without saying a word?"
She spun in surprise. A woman stood on a nearby porch, one hand resting on the railing. The lamplight had settled over her face like a soft wash of color.
"Delia!"
Misty hadn't expected to walk all the way to Pallet Town — and she'd nearly made a fool of herself on top of it. She felt self-conscious, her eyes sliding sideways.
"Come in and sit down." Delia covered a smile with her hand and led Misty inside. At the door, she cupped Misty's wrist gently from below and lifted, letting her turn the handle herself.
Mr. Mime poured them each a cup of hot tea. Misty held her cup by the handle, blowing gently over the steaming surface. She tried to hunch her shoulders and dip her head, searching quietly for an angle where Delia couldn't see her face.
Delia, for her part, sat beaming — elbows on the table, fingers laced, chin resting on the backs of her hands. "I was going to say earlier — Misty's new hair really suits her! I used to be just as lovely when I was your age..."
Misty's face went hot all at once. She had been taking a careful sip; at Delia's words her whole body gave a small jolt, and tea dotted the tip of her nose.
"Ash's father left Pallet Town so long ago, and Ash is out there every single day — honestly. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, and all that. By the time those two settle down enough to stay home, I'll be an old woman. Men never understand these things—" Delia paused. "Misty, is there any boy after you at the moment? If there is, find someone who can actually be there for you — travelling together is the most romantic thing in the world, you know. Worst case, you could always make him come help out around the Cerulean Gym. Your beauty deserves to be seen, darling. Old time is still a-flying~"
"No — I don't have a boyfriend!" Misty set her cup down and waved both hands.
"Alright, alright, of course you don't," Delia laughed, and took a sip of her own tea, propping her chin in one hand, head tilting slightly. "Would you like me to tell you about me and Ash's father?"
Misty, relieved that Delia had changed the subject herself, nodded like a little bird pecking at grain.
"Well, then." Delia looked down at her other hand, fingers moving slowly through her loose hair. "Ash's father and I got together very early. We were both trainers. Once Ash came along, I had no choice but to stay in Pallet Town. And he — once he left to travel, he never came back."
Misty's eyes went wide. A wave of sympathy rose in her chest — she blocked it before it could surface. Sympathy was its own kind of injury. But why was Delia telling her this? The night had turned cold. She reached for her tea.
Delia kept stroking her hair, as if she hadn't noticed Misty's reaction at all. "He did contact me eventually. He hadn't managed to earn eight Badges, so he couldn't compete in the Indigo League. He went somewhere far away to make a living instead, and he'd wire money now and then."
"That money alone wouldn't have been nearly enough to get Ash his first Pokémon, let alone fund any travelling. Luckily, I'd studied under Professor Oak. He helped a great deal."
Steam rose from Delia's cup, drifting across her eyes. "Misty, I really did end up on a hard road. If I'd never married — I might have become a fine trainer. That path would have brought me so much closer to what I actually wanted." She stopped. "Doesn't that make you sad? Won't you say something comforting?"
Misty blinked. Delia said things the way a girl throwing a little pout would. — But was she really joking? Her eyes curved when she smiled, like small crescents. Lonely little crescents.
"Delia—"
Delia didn't rush her. She just smiled and waited. Misty couldn't help looking away, out through the window at the night. A crescent moon hung there too.
Misty drew a slow breath, then deliberately let her lips settle into something between a pout and a scold.
"Honestly — you already know all of this perfectly well." A small, warm smile. "But you still want him to come home, don't you? Old time is still a-flying. There's no point anymore in counting all the days apart — all you can do is hope the separation doesn't last much longer. Go and meet him. While the flower still blooms — pick it while you can. Don't you think?"
They both went still for a moment. Misty hadn't expected herself to say something quite so earnest.
She looked at Delia. Delia was still smiling. She blinked once, then stuck her tongue out. "Words like that, from a girl your age, and you sound like a little philosopher! Alright, alright — stay and have a bath tonight. I'll go find you something to wear."
Before Misty could think, she was being steered up the stairs. Delia leaned close to her ear: "It's from when I was young — very pretty! And — I need to tidy up Ash's room in a bit. Get changed, then just wait for me in there." That was all, and then she was gone, leaving Misty standing there with an awkward smile. She hadn't even had a chance to say no.
Though — Delia just didn't want anyone to see her in a moment of weakness.
Misty walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. A warm thread fell, and the sound of it could have been rain just starting outside. She closed her eyes, both hands flat against her chest.
She stayed until the steam had filled every corner of the room and settled warm against her eyelids, then finally turned off the water. Her fingertips had gone pruney — like the waves in a child's drawing. She wrapped herself in a towel and pushed open the bathroom door. A garment lay waiting: a light summer kimono the color of still water. The sleeves were wide and loose, and from shoulder to arm the fabric fell like a quiet sea. She loved this kind of blue. It was the same color as that Totodile — the one she and Ash had both dived for at the same moment.
Delia had also tucked a small mirror into the fold of the kimono. Once dressed, Misty couldn't help picking it up for a look. Not bad at all — perfectly suited for a future Water Pokémon Master and the world's most beautiful girl. Delia really did have wonderful taste.
She made her way to Ash's room. The door was half-open — not quite closed, leaving just enough of a gap to peer through. "Delia?" She leaned in through the gap and swept the room with her eyes. No sign of Delia, only a broom leaning against the wall. She'd apparently finished tidying.
Misty kept looking. A Voltorb alarm clock sat on the shelf. Against the wall leaned a Kangaskhan plush, and beside it a poster printed with Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle. On the desk — a lure she recognized. Wait.
The lure she had given Ash.
It was modeled after her — a tiny Misty, lying there alone on the desk. Why hadn't he taken it with him? Something pressed at the back of her throat. Her fingertips had quietly left little red marks in her palms.
"See something interesting?"
Misty spun around. Delia was standing behind her, one hand on her hip and a cloth in the other.
"I — I wasn't peeping!" Misty went rigid, like a rabbit caught by the ears. "I just — um — I noticed you weren't in there, and I sort of drifted off, I'm not sure why—"
Delia smiled — that particular smile older people have, the one that knows things. She reached out and pinched Misty's burning cheek.
"Is that so? You seemed to be staring at something quite carefully."
Misty bit her lip. After a moment, she said quietly: "Delia — that lure on the desk. I gave it to him. He didn't take it travelling with him, so I was wondering — did he forget?"
Delia's eyes narrowed slightly, they narrowed back into their familiar curve. "What do you mean? How could Ash not care about Misty?" She ruffled Misty's hair. "He mentioned that lure to me, you know. Back in Sinnoh, he used it to go fishing, and another girl wanted to borrow it. He almost lost it after that — and from then on, he kept it here." A pause. "To that boy, what you gave him stopped being just a lure a long time ago."
Misty stood there for a moment, then realized her mouth had started to curve upward at the corner. She turned her head quickly, eyes sliding left, one finger scratching at her cheek. "It's just a lure — it's not like I can't make another one. Anyway, I'm tired. Good night."
"Sleep in my room tonight, then. I still have things to take care of." Delia pressed a finger to her lips. "And it's a secret."
Misty didn't have the energy to think about what secret that might be. She nodded and walked straight into Delia's room.
The curtains had been drawn. She slipped off her shoes and pulled the blanket over herself.
The curtains swayed without a sound. Knees bent, arms wrapped around her legs, eyes shut. In the darkness, morning light bloomed — and inside that light, flowers. Flowers opening in layers, warmly, all at once—
Gather them. Weave them into a crown. The dew on their petals, growing brighter—
After some time, the brightness grew, and her eyelids grew lighter. She opened her eyes. Good — it wasn't dawn yet. Through the window, the sun was just beginning to think about the horizon.
Misty folded the blanket. Delia was nowhere to be seen — she'd probably gone to sleep in Ash's room, not wanting to wake her. Misty rose on her tiptoes and crept down the stairs. Before she left, she placed a note on the table: gone for a walk, back soon.
She didn't actually know where she was going. But compared to how she'd felt arriving last night, the not-knowing felt steadier somehow. The light was clean and clear, enough to see by. A Hoothoot dozed on a rooftop. Misty walked with both hands behind her back, her two index fingers hooked loosely together.
Pallet Town was much smaller than Cerulean City, but it had more forks. The straight paths tended to hide in alleyways, easy for a stranger to miss; on the wider roads, houses and shops pressed in from both sides, forcing people to go the long way around. Stumbling upon a narrow side path gave her a small, private thrill — but if it turned out to be a dead end, she had to turn back and start again.
Even Ash went the wrong way sometimes. At the Indigo League, it had been Charizard refusing to listen that cost him a winning streak right when it was within reach. Maybe right now he was lying in his sleeping bag somewhere in a forest, turning over the mistakes from his last battle.
The short path and the long path — neither was better than the other. Even before you walked them, they looked more or less the same. So what was the point of calling any of them the wrong one? As if the road not taken was automatically more surprising, more beautiful than the one you chose.
Maybe thinking that just made it easier to bear. She thought of Togepi — the way it had bounced, the way it had curled up sleeping, right there in her arms.
Until it had to go and protect its own kind. Until she had to accept another goodbye. But that time, it was Togepi who had set her free. Misty's head dropped a little lower.
"Why — why does it always work like this? I catch you, and then somewhere down the road I have to let you go. Togepi. Brock. Ash — why does meeting someone always come with losing them?"
She drifted out past the edge of Pallet Town and wandered into the trees nearby. The canopy was thin enough that the morning light came through in patches.
Morning already? She blinked. But why did it look so much like the evening glow? That color — it was exactly the color of the sky the day they said goodbye. Misty, pushing her repaired bicycle. The three of them walking together toward the last fork in the road.
"So Ash, don't forget your morning rituals,take it back and wash your teeth."
"And make sure that Pikachu doesn't eat too much."
"And Brock, try not to get too distracted by other girls."
"……Just keep on, doing your best."
"……Without me there."
Something stung at the back of her throat. Their meeting had been such a strange coincidence.
"Ours wasn't a coincidence."
Ash? Misty looked up sharply, eyes moving through the trees. No one there.
"I don't believe it could be just a coincidence that I met you out of all people.……I guess what I mean is even though that happened, I think that we were meant to meet and become friends."
Just a memory, then. Misty smiled a little, with an edge to it.
Those words, for her now — they were a kind of child's wish, nothing more. Longing could make her slow and hesitant on a long road, always glancing behind. But it held no power to summon a reunion, no matter how much she might want to believe otherwise.
"But." She said it quietly, to herself. "Enough."
She turned around.
From Pallet Town to here — all those footprints that only existed because she had walked this way. If she had never walked this road, would she still be herself? No. She wouldn't.
If she had never separated from Ash and Brock, they might have shared more beautiful things. But they would never have reunited — they would only have ever stayed together. The Misty who would have taken that other road back then — she would have been someone else.
She looked at the fading morning glow. If it didn't fade, she would never know how much it resembled the evening. And without the evening to measure against, the morning light would not move her so deeply. Would the young Delia have thought about any of this? Misty closed her eyes and imagined a fork in a road, and felt her own hand become Delia's hand.
In a yellow wood, two roads diverge. Delia looks down one of them — her Pokémon are there, waving her forward. She can almost see herself showing off a freshly-won Badge to someone, a blue kimono rippling in the wind—
But she takes the other road. A man appears beside her, his face unclear. A child in her arms — is that Ash?
Delia reaches out a hand, saying goodbye to her Pokémon, goodbye to another version of herself, goodbye to the road not taken — and quietly disappears from their sight.
Walk, and the sleeping child suddenly cries. Delia looks down and finds him wet with a few drops of water.
Walk, and morning becomes dusk, dusk becomes night, the man is gone, and a slightly older Ash takes her hand and they walk together toward the next fork.
Walk, and Ash is ten years old. He loves Pokémon — and doesn't know that he is one, too. Hatched from a shell, and his trainer has been looking after him ever since. Only — it was time to be set free.
Misty knew, of course, that on that road Delia wouldn't have followed him. She had only pressed her palm gently to the back of a ten-year-old boy and watched him walk away.
There was nothing Misty could do — only try to feel what Delia had felt. That thing living in the warmth of the light. That thing Delia's eyes had moved away from. The thing that had no name.
Delia understood nothing! She had only kept walking, glancing back every so often — only holding onto the memory of a goodbye, and hoping for a reunion — only choosing, again and again, to move forward. She had never once complained about the road she didn't take.
Misty's eyes opened. Green, brown, and the last embers of orange all blurred together, and her eyelids were warm. The sun had climbed this high already?
She had to get back. Delia would start to worry — and if she didn't hurry back to Cerulean, her sisters would end up tracing her all the way to Pallet Town. Misty tried to break into a jog, but the hem of the kimono caught her legs and she stumbled, nearly going down. She settled for walking as quickly as she could.
Everything along the road seemed to rush toward her all at once, flooding in, trying to carry her off. She pressed her teeth together. Her face was hot — but it wasn't only that. There were still things she wanted to ask Delia. And there was a decision she had made.
Past the grass, past the narrow path, Ash's house came closer. She could see Mr. Mime wiping the outside windows. She jumped up the porch steps and turned the handle herself.
"Delia?"
No answer, but the smell of sandwiches drifted through the air — she was probably in the kitchen. Misty stepped into the living room and was about to glance toward the kitchen when she saw Delia slumped over the table, asleep. Both arms were wrapped around a photo album, and the table beside it was spotted with damp.
Whether it was the sound of her footsteps, Misty wasn't sure — but Delia's eyes opened suddenly. "Who's there?"
"It's me, Delia."
"Oh, you're back!" Delia shifted her arms casually over the album. "You haven't eaten yet, have you? Let me get you a sandwich." She picked up the album and disappeared into the kitchen. "Actually, Misty — would you come with me to Professor Oak's lab later? There's something I need to speak to him about."
Misty heard the cupboard open, a plate being taken out. She drew a slow breath. "I'll eat on the way, then. I need to go there too."
The sounds in the kitchen stopped. After a few seconds, Misty heard the plate being set back in the cupboard. Delia appeared in the kitchen doorway — she had only just woken up, but her eyes were open very wide.
"Could you — tell me what for?"
"I think you already know." Misty smiled and trotted over to take one of Delia's hands. "Just — come walk with me a little longer."
She squeezed Delia's hand. It was cool, but the pulse at her wrist was jumping. Delia wasn't saying anything — Misty looked up, and her cheek was immediately caught and squeezed. "Um — Delia?"
Delia sighed, still smiling, and let go of Misty's cheek.
"You. Come on — let's go now."
The floorboards gave soft sounds beneath their feet. Misty held Delia's hand and they walked side by side through the living room; they stepped out the door, and the sunlight pushed the shadows of the house back behind them.
Misty had just begun to organize what she wanted to ask when Delia said: "I forgot to mention, Misty — I made a few calls last night. Well, one of them wasn't mine to make — that was your sister calling me."
"What?" Misty nearly tripped again. Delia steadied her, and they kept walking.
"Who told her?"
"Daisy said she noticed you were gone, so she asked Tracey. Tracey thought you'd most likely be here, so he gave her my number. She told me she's coming to pick you up today."
Tracey. Misty's free hand curled into a fist. Back on the Orange Islands, he'd been the one to say that her relationship with Ash reminded him of a couple who fought because they cared — of all the things to say. She'd deal with him when she got back to the Gym.
"So at first I wondered — are you tired of being Gym Leader? It does come with a lot of complications. You can't go far, or stay away too long. Like me."
"Yeah."
"Misty — why did you become the Cerulean Gym Leader?"
"Because I'm a daughter of the Cerulean Gym!" It came out before she'd thought about it. But as she said it, a pride rose in her that she hadn't expected — a pride like thin mist catching in front of the light. She wasn't sure what she was rambling about. "And because of how much I love Water-type Pokémon. I didn't want to be the one they'd rather forget — the runt. And there was also—" Misty knew what Delia was really asking, but she chose silence. Or perhaps silence chose her.
A resident of Pallet Town called out to Delia in passing; Delia called back. They moved past each other.
"Delia — I don't know how to say it."
"It's hard to put into words, isn't it?" Delia sighed again — Misty had noticed she'd sighed quite a few times today. "When we convince ourselves to do what we're supposed to do, what we can't help doing — sorry, I've gone off track. I only wanted to ask: would Misty have preferred to travel the whole wide world?"
Delia's grip had tightened; her pace had picked up slightly. Misty felt her own stride thrown off, adjusted, then looked sideways at Delia's face. She thought about it seriously. "My dream is to be a Water Pokémon Master. Getting out there like Ash and seeing things for myself — that would probably help." She let a small, wicked smile settle on her face and tossed her ponytail back. This person never gave anyone a moment's peace — Ash had nearly lost his challenge at Cerulean Gym until she told him to pull himself together, and the same at the Indigo League, when a loss in the top sixteen had him lying flat on a bed feeling sorry for himself. Ridiculous. Even when she'd wanted to talk to him about it, he'd just pushed back. He was her headache. Always had been.
Delia glanced at her, smiled in recognition — she clearly knew exactly what Misty was doing. "I'd love to hear about your run-in with Lugia," she said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Ash told me. Tracey mentioned you were the one who pulled him out of the sea."
Misty hadn't realized Delia knew it was her. She thought back. "We took a boat out to find him. You know how he always charges in — we were afraid something would happen. And it did. He went into the water and lost consciousness. Pikachu managed to hold on to him, and I swam out and brought them both back."
"The sea had actually frozen over by then, hadn't it — I nearly had a heart attack when I heard, that child is absolutely impossible." Delia let out a breath. "Ash told me the water was iced over. You were very brave, Misty. When he woke up, did he thank you?"
"He did not." Misty made a short, flat sound. A person who could say that perfume was just something women used to mess with men's heads — how much emotional intelligence did anyone expect? "I shook him awake and all he did was mutter 'I have to go, I have to go' and run straight to the shrine. His body had no strength left and he wouldn't even let anyone help him up."
Was Delia's situation with Ash's father like that too? One of them looking at the other, the other always looking at the horizon— Misty let her head drop. Better not to ask.
"You really do care about him, don't you." Delia raised a hand to cover her mouth.
Misty's whole body gave a small jolt. She didn't. She wasn't his little sister. She wasn't his girlfriend. There was no reason to care. She buried her chin a little lower.
"Ash has been travelling long enough to have grown up quite a bit by now. He's done — let me count — Kanto, the Orange Islands, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, so the next one should be Unova. Does Misty want to go see him?"
"I'm not going," Misty said, turning her head away. "He comes home between every journey, doesn't he? He can come find me himself. If he still remembers me."
Why had Delia gone quiet? Had she said something wrong? Misty was still wondering when she caught a faint sound and looked — Delia was trying not to laugh. And then, apparently because Misty had noticed, Delia let herself laugh properly, and she looked so genuinely happy.
"The moment we mention Ash, our very mature Misty turns right back into a little girl — though I should say, mature Ash does exactly the same thing when Misty comes up. Not that Ash has any idea."
The heat rushed up instantly. What — little girl — Misty turned her face to the other side, pretending to look at the scenery along the road. How were they not at the lab yet? Her ears were definitely red, and Delia could definitely see them — but what had she meant by that last part?
"Boys just take longer to grow up, I think. You must have said something like that about Ash yourself at some point?"
She probably had. There had been that Nidoran pair — she remembered deciding she was going to help them find happiness. Ash hadn't understood the first thing about love; of course he was a little kid. But — he'd apparently said she was one too.
Misty noticed she was smiling, sometime between one thought and the next. A real smile, tinged with exasperation.
"You just like to tease people."
"I'm very good at it!" Delia put one hand on her hip, looking for all the world like a girl Misty's own age. "If young Ash ever met young me, he'd have ended up just like his father."
Misty was about to follow that thread and keep teasing, when Delia let the hand drop from her hip. The only sound for a moment was their shoes against the road.
"Misty — I've been so clumsy about all of this."
Misty felt the hand holding hers go slack, almost slipping. She gripped tighter; her thumb pressed into the knob of a knuckle on the back of Delia's hand, the skin faintly ridged.
"Last night I just launched into the story of Ash's father and me. I know I switched topics very abruptly. I only hoped my story might be of some use to you." She paused. "But that wasn't really what I was thinking at the time. What was I actually thinking? Maybe — I was looking for myself in you. Another me. A me that isn't me."
This was the second time Misty had heard something close to tears in Delia's voice. The first had been when Ash had risked his life alongside Lugia to save the world. She didn't know why, but the word kept coming back: set free. Her palm was damp.
"I can't undo my own regrets — but at least I can help another girl pick the flower while it's still in bloom. That was what I told myself. How selfish! Do you truly want to be someone who never has regrets, Misty? The version of you that never became Gym Leader — what would she have lost?"
Before Misty could follow the thread of what those words meant, Delia's arms were around her, encircling her neck, Delia's cheek pressed against hers. She held on for a long moment, then slowly let go and touched the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry — I keep saying strange things. These aren't questions someone my age can give definitive answers to — I can't ask you to solve them on the spot. Think about them while you walk. Look — we're here already."
Misty looked up as if surfacing. Her gaze climbed the steps, reached the building at the top — Professor Oak's lab. They had arrived.
They went up the steps and stopped at the door. Delia looked at her. She's waiting for me. Misty smiled back, and pressed the doorbell.
The door swung open immediately — pulled by two vines. Ash's Bulbasaur. Misty reached out a hand in greeting: "It's been a long time, Bulbasaur. Weren't you supposed to be keeping order in the garden? What are you doing at the door?"
"Bulba." It dipped its head once, then used a vine to point to the right — toward Professor Oak.
"We have an old friend visiting today, so I asked Bulbasaur to help with the welcome. Good to see you, Misty. And Delia — calling that late, you woke me up."
"I only asked if you had time today and then hung up straight away. Sorry, sorry." Delia laughed and patted Misty's head. "Then, Misty — I'll go take care of my things. Get yourself ready; it'll be your turn soon."
"I know."
Misty sat down in the corner of a sofa and watched them leave. Just her now.
So quiet. A low, ambient hum seemed to come from nowhere. She looked down at the kimono in a kind of daze. When she thought about it — she wasn't that little girl anymore. Her sisters had started saying she'd grown into herself. At some point, certain boys had begun turning up at the Gym trying to make themselves useful. One of them had handed her a letter: What captivates me is the way you hold maturity and energy in the same breath. There's nothing you can't overcome. I can't resist it—
Such a cliché of a love letter. But thinking back on it now — she really had changed a great deal. When she'd had no choice but to return to the Cerulean Gym, it was because Ash hadn't understood that she didn't want to say goodbye, and she'd stormed out of the Pokémon Center in a temper. Nurse Joy had repaired the bicycle; Ash had been happy for her. Neither of them had understood. Running out of that Pokémon Center, she had wished the bicycle would never be repaired. She'd been such a child then. If she'd kept travelling with them, she might still be exactly that.
Wait — was this what the version of her who'd never become Gym Leader would have lost? Was that the other Misty's road not taken?
"Thinking about something interesting?"
Misty nearly launched off the sofa. When had Delia appeared right beside her?
"Are you done with your things?"
"Not yet."
So — why was she here, with that suspicious smile?
"Maybe once your business is done, mine will be sorted too?" Delia linked her arm through Misty's like a close friend and nodded toward Professor Oak, who was standing behind them. "Tell the Professor what you came for."
She hadn't expected to be put on the spot quite so quickly — she'd thought she'd have a little more time to prepare. But this was fine. Misty stood up.
"Professor Oak — I have a request. I'd like to — call Ash. I just need to borrow your video phone for a moment."
The words had barely left her mouth before Professor Oak turned and waved a hand: "Right this way, then."
He hadn't even stopped to think about it. Misty opened her mouth slightly. But now wasn't the time to be puzzled — she still needed to work out what to say.
She followed Professor Oak and Delia. How should she open? "Hi, Ash?" Too short, too casual — like they'd seen each other just last week. "Long time no see — I've missed you so much." Her face went scalding. Absolutely not. "I want to travel with you to Unova so I can catch more Water-type Pokémon"? She couldn't even convince herself with that one.
"Ash made it to the semi-finals at the Lily of the Valley Conference," Professor Oak was saying to Delia in the easy tone of small talk. "Knowing him, he'll want to head off to a new region right after — but before that, he'll spend a few days in Pallet Town, won't he?"
"Almost certainly." Delia smiled.
Hearing them, Misty found she couldn't quite concentrate on the opening-line problem anymore. She felt her toes pressing into the soles of her shoes.
"Here we are." Professor Oak stopped before a door and turned the handle. He moved to the control panel and turned to give Misty a smile, gesturing toward a blue office chair facing the screen. Delia stood at her side and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Ready?" Professor Oak asked.
Misty nodded, hard. She turned to face the screen and heard Professor Oak press the call button.
Beep. Beep. Beep. She counted each one, her mind gone completely blank, no longer thinking about anything at all. On the twelfth beep the screen flickered — almost entirely filled with yellow, and then those two small red spots—
"Pikachu! It's you!"
"Pikachu-pi!" Pikachu leapt forward and stretched a paw toward her, then turned and poked at something off-screen. After a moment it moved to the side, looking faintly sheepish, and used its tail to point at two figures slumped over and fast asleep — a shock of dark spiky hair, a red-and-white cap. Definitely them. Misty pinched the fabric of her kimono. What were they doing sleeping here? Wait — sparks were already forming on Pikachu's cheeks. "Pikachu, stop—!"
Pikachu hesitated and scratched its head. "Pika?"
"You're such a good Pikachu," Misty said, pressing her palms together. "Let's not use Thunderbolt to wake them up this time. Something gentler?"
So Pikachu used its tail to tap each of them once on the forehead. Ash didn't lift his head — he just turned his face in the direction of the tap: "Pikachu, let me sleep — I'm still tired—"
How late had he been up last night. Brock was already awake. He blinked, registered what he was seeing, and immediately jabbed Ash in the head with his elbow.
"Brock, you too—" Ash sat up, one arm across his eyes. Misty could see the lightning-bolt marks on his face. He'd gotten more sun than when she'd last seen him — but that at least meant he was healthy. Don't say anything yet. See how long it takes this sleepyhead to notice.
Ash dropped his arm. And there were his dark eyes, and the faint points of light in them. Then — just as she'd hoped — the white points flared open and landed right in the center.
She heard a small, unguarded sound — somewhere between oh and ah. She watched him look at her. He was staring at her, and then his gaze seemed to slip downward. She looked down too. The kimono.
Of all things to notice. She pulled her mouth to one side, feigning mild offense. "What? Delia put me in it."
He seemed to come back to himself, and scratched the back of his head with a little laugh. "It's just — you look really nice in Mom's clothes."
He really had grown up. Not quite a little kid anymore — well. A grown-up little kid. Misty put both hands on her hips. "I've been telling you — world's most beautiful girl." She held his gaze a little longer, then moved the corners of her mouth to the right. "Aren't you going to say hello to your mom? — And when are you coming back to Pallet Town? When's your next journey?"
Delia winked at Ash; he nodded quickly. "Oh — hi, Mom! — Brock won't be travelling with me this time. He's going after his dream of becoming a Pokémon Doctor."
"Seeing Ash and Dawn both growing the way they are — and you too, Misty — I thought, I need to grow as well." Brock smiled. "Which is almost word for word what I said before."
Dawn — who was that? She'd thought the girl in the red bandana was called May. She was about to ask when she heard Delia say in a voice meant only for her: "Dawn is the girl who tried to borrow the lure."
"...Is she pretty?" Misty murmured. She could feel herself deflating. No — stop it. Pretty or not, why was she even thinking about this. She squared her shoulders and tried to call back the voice she'd used when keeping Ash in line — firm, slightly unreasonable: "By the way — have you been keeping my lure safe? If you're still losing things like a little kid, don't expect another one."
"Of course I've been keeping it safe!"
Almost a reflex. Delia was right. Misty glanced over — Delia was wearing an expression of surprised delight. Misty closed her eyes. "And where, exactly, are you keeping it?"
"In my room — Mom can show you!" Ha. There it was. Even mature Ash turned into a little kid the moment Misty came up — scratch the "even." Misty opened one eye; her shoe hooked around the base of the chair. "Is that right. I'll have to go check on that. But — Ash. There's something I want to tell you."
She glanced around the room — Pikachu, Brock, Delia, Ash, all watching. Her other eye opened slowly. Then she looked sideways at the control panel. She made herself keep her voice steady: "Listen — don't read anything into this — I just — I mean — the thing is, I've been thinking I might want to travel with you ag—"
"Oh — Misty, there's something I've been meaning to tell you too!"
The wheels of the office chair scraped against the floor.
"What — what?"
"Come with me to Unova?"
"What are you talking about—"
What was she doing? What was she saying? No — what was he saying? What was she supposed to do with this? Why—
"I mean it. I want you to come to Unova with me."
"It's just — you've been at the Gym for a while now, you must be bored," he said, head down, fingers working at a crease in his jacket. "You'd rather be travelling, wouldn't you? I didn't understand back then why you were angry — I was so happy your bike was finally fixed. It was only when Brock told me—"
Brock had told him. You might have wanted to keep travelling with us.
— Ash, you never understood how I was feeling at all.
— After everything, that's what you say? You should have at least acted like you didn't want me to go.
Pokémon Center. Her sisters. The Gym. Travelling. The bicycle.
She had thought — she had thought—
That gesture — shh. A secret.
A few phone calls.
Maybe once your business is done, mine will be sorted too.
Her wrist was being held now, the grip tightening, as if at any moment it would be lifted — the way it had been lifted when she'd first arrived in Pallet Town. She didn't turn around.
"Come on, Misty. There's so much more out there for us to see."
You — does he even know he's saying something like that? Misty raised her arm and let the sleeve of the kimono fall across her eyes.
"Misty?"
"I'm listening." She kept her gaze fixed on the fabric, blinking steadily. "If I go to Unova with you, what happens to my Gym?"
"Well — I guess after Unova I could come stay in Cerulean for a while?"
"Your mom wants you in Cerulean doing chores for me."
"What?"
"That's right!" Delia chimed in immediately. "Ash, wasting the golden years of the world's most beautiful girl does come with consequences, you know!"
"Alright! I get it — I'm not a little kid anymore, so I've changed from before, haven't I?" Still defensive. Misty stood up and moved to the control panel, still with the sleeve across her face. "Stop going on about it. My sister's coming to pick me up soon. I have one last thing to say."
"Ash — do you think — if I'd kept travelling with you the whole time, never separated — would I be as steady and gentle as I am now?"
"When are you ever—" Ash cleared his throat. "Why are you asking that out of nowhere? Brock, Pikachu — what do you think?"
"I think Misty's about to have Pikachu use Thunderbolt on you."
She couldn't let herself laugh. She bit the inside of her cheeks and kept her hand on the control panel. She could picture exactly what expression Ash was making.
"That's not what I meant. What I'm trying to say is — forget it. Ash, you said you'd be in Pallet Town for a few days, didn't you? Let's go check on Pidgeot in Viridian Forest. Honestly — no sense of responsibility whatsoever. 'Once I'm done, I'll be back before you know it.' And how long ago was that now?"
"Though — maybe that's been a good thing. For you and Pidgeot both."
Before Ash could respond, Misty was already speaking again. "One more thing — the absolute last thing."
Her sleeve came down. She smiled, showing her teeth: "Anyone who says they're not a little kid — is a little kid."
She pressed the end call button.
Misty looked at the darkened screen. She saw her own smile reflected back, and behind her, Delia. She watched Delia open both arms and fold them around her.
"I'm sorry, Misty."
"Don't be. Thank you."
In the screen, Delia's face was caught in the glare and hard to make out.
"I'm so relieved — but I was so afraid. I didn't say anything because I was afraid. What if you'd walked away right at the last moment? And what if it wasn't what you wanted at all? Would I have been taking something away from you?"
Misty turned around and pressed her face into Delia's shoulder. She could hear her heartbeat. "Honestly — why do I have to be the one comforting you now."
She'd wanted to keep talking — something like because of you, I managed to— and a great deal more. She closed her eyes and listened to her own breathing go slower and more even. Delia smelled like the kitchen. Sandwiches. Her warmth was solid and real. But a thought flickered past — there's something she still wanted to ask, about a man — and then Delia was saying something, but she was so tired.
"Delia — regret — color—"
Color. Orange. Blue.
Hmmm, hmm. Misty's eyelids trembled faintly. She lifted a hand and covered her eyes.
"Misty — you're awake? I could see you in the mirror."
"Daisy?" Misty opened her eyes.
An expanse of evening light.
She looked down. She was still in the kimono. She heard Daisy say: "How could you sleep so deeply? Delia and I basically had to carry you to the car — look, there's Cerulean City right up ahead."
"What!" Misty nearly stood straight up. She turned and looked back. Pallet Town had long since disappeared. There was only the yellow plain, and the road turning beneath them. The wind caught the back of her head and sent her hair across her face; the kimono rippled in the air around her.
"Daisy — I need to leave the Gym for a while. A few days from now."
"What? The wind's too loud, I can't hear you!"
"I said!" Misty cupped both hands around her mouth, laughing, shouting toward Pallet Town. "I'm going on a journey! I'm going travelling again!"
Then she reached up, took her hair tie, and gathered her hair back up.
"What? You're going travelling all of a sudden? You're not — running off with some boy, are you?"
That probably wasn't quite the right way to put it. And whatever this was between them — it couldn't only be that. It was more than that. It had to be. She covered her eyes with both hands.
"I could be the color of your every dawn, and the color of your every dusk—"
"But I am also Misty. And I'm coming to find you. Not the other way around."
She felt a little embarrassed having said all that. But just this once — she'd let herself be the sentimental, literary type.
Pallet Town, there ahead of her, growing farther away — but was it really growing farther?
"This time, too — please take care of me, Ash."