"Not every memory deserves to be saved. But every truth must be faced."
---
The concept of "saving" never felt cruel—until now.
Ash stood at the edge of something that wasn't time, wasn't space. It was the dead zone between realities: The Final Save. A backup corrupted by choice, pain, and paradox.
The floor beneath him flickered. Tiles of memory.
Pikachu's first thunderbolt.
Charizard refusing to obey.
Greninja turning to smoke.
Kukui calling him "champion."
Delia hugging him in a dream she didn't remember.
All flickering beneath his feet. All unstable.
And then—the voice came again.
> "Welcome, Ash Ketchum.
Welcome to the end of all attempts."
A figure formed from the static, towering and formless. Not a man. Not a Pokémon. Not even a god.
The Archivist.
> "You are a paradox. A variable in a perfect equation. You should not exist anymore."
Ash stared up, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched. His hands were wrapped in tape, fingers cracked and scarred from battles that didn't make it into the Pokédex. His aura flickered like a glitched sprite.
"Then delete me," Ash spat. "Go ahead. Let's see if your system can forget what I've become."
> "Oh… we cannot delete you, Ash. But we can give you a choice."
And then it happened.
The sky split.
A fissure tore open the realm.
Behind it—pods.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
People Ash loved.
People he lost.
People he failed.
Serena.
May.
Brock.
Goh.
Tracey.
Gary.
Professor Oak.
Misty.
Even Team Rocket.
All frozen in a stasis-like state, held in shimmering glass filled with data mist. Faces warped between joy and terror.
He stepped toward Misty's pod—her eyes fluttered.
> "Ash… why didn't you come sooner?"
He reached out. The pod hissed and pushed his hand away.
Then a blaring message appeared in red code above the vault:
> "TO UNLOCK THEIR FILES, ONE MEMORY MUST BE ERASED FOREVER."
"CHOOSE WHO TO DELETE."
A list opened.
One name glitched to the top.
Pikachu.
"No…"
He fell to his knees.
"No. No, you can't ask me that."
> "We must."
"Balance must be restored. You have rewound too many times, broken too many constants. A choice must be sacrificed for the world to continue."
Ash looked up.
The entire realm was watching now—ghosts of champions, past timelines, old versions of himself, alternate rivals, parallel Professors. All watching the boy who never gave up.
He staggered to his feet.
"I won't delete him."
> "Then you delete them all."
The pods began to dim.
One by one.
Misty's face faded.
Brock's silhouette blurred.
Ash screamed.
"No! STOP!"
Then a paw.
Tiny. Gentle.
Pressed against his arm.
Pikachu.
Bruised. Shaking. But standing.
He walked past Ash.
Stepped to the terminal.
Looked back.
And smiled.
Not fear.
Not sorrow.
Love.
> "Pika… pi."
And pressed the key.
Ash lunged, screaming.
"NOOOOO!"
But the code had been entered.
Pikachu's data began unraveling.
Not dying.
Being forgotten.
From memories.
From battle logs.
From heartbeats.
Ash screamed until his throat tore.
He clawed at the vault. Slammed his fists into the glass. Blood poured down his knuckles. He didn't care.
"I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HIM!"
The Archivist watched, unmoved.
> "You have one override. But it will cost more than you know."
Ash didn't hesitate.
He turned to the terminal.
Typed it in manually.
A full overwrite.
A forbidden command used by creators, not players.
> /ResetReality/ForceFragment/PreserveCoreMemory: Pikachu
Warning appeared.
> "Final overwrite will destroy the root source of your will."
> "Continue?"
Ash's vision blurred.
His hands trembled.
"Yes."
And pressed ENTER.
---
The realm exploded.
Not outward—but inward.
Like reality collapsing into its own lungs.
Ash stood at the center, shattered.
He had preserved Pikachu…
…but erased something inside himself.
And he could feel it.
A hollowness.
A gap in his chest.
Something essential torn away.
He collapsed.
Time folded around him.
---
He woke up somewhere new.
A world untouched by Pokémon.
A world where dreams had never been caught in Pokéballs.
The wind brushed against his face.
He sat up.
Grass. Trees. A city skyline in the distance. No Pokémon Centers. No badges. No Professor Oak.
He looked beside him.
Pikachu stirred.
> "Pika?"
Ash hugged him.
Tight. Desperate. Almost feral.
He didn't know why he was crying.
Didn't know what he'd lost.
Didn't remember the vault.
Didn't remember choosing.
All he knew was that this little yellow spark mattered more than the world.
> "I don't know what we gave up.
But if it means you're still here—
Then I'd do it all again."
---