"Memories are weapons. And the sharpest ones are forged in pain."
---
Ash didn't sleep.
Pikachu lay curled in his arms, too still, too quiet. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing was faint, as if something inside him flickered—something small and vital. Surge's attack had hit deeper than Ash realized.
The forest behind Pallet was unnaturally silent, and Ash had never hated silence until now.
He crouched at the base of a tree, his own breath visible in the cold morning mist. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, unable to stop shaking. Not from cold—but from something else.
Fear.
Because Ash Ketchum, the boy who had battled gods and legends, was afraid.
Not of death.
But of remembrance.
---
At dawn, the thread in his palm flared.
It wasn't a dream.
It was calling him.
Dragging him forward.
Pikachu stirred on his shoulder, weakly twitching his ears.
"You still with me, buddy?" Ash whispered.
A soft nuzzle was the only reply.
Ash followed the thread. Through the woods. Past the river. Through a clearing where the sun broke through just enough to paint shadows in gold.
That's where he found them.
Three children.
But there was something wrong with them.
Their bodies shimmered with light—each child marked with looping, pulsing sigils that looked like living circuitry. Their eyes didn't blink. Their feet didn't shift. They were still in that unnatural, predatory way that made Ash's instincts scream.
The girl with silver hair and skin like pearl stepped forward. Her voice was layered—like three different versions of her were speaking in perfect sync.
"You remember."
Ash flinched. "I don't know what I remember."
"You do," said the boy beside her. He looked like a younger version of Blue, only his hair was pure white and there was a brand scorched into his cheek—Failure. "You've seen the timelines. The lost wars. The erased champions."
The smallest one had no mouth.
He spoke directly into Ash's mind.
"We were never born. But we remember dying."
---
Ash's hands trembled.
"What are you?"
"We're anomalies," said the girl. "Ghosts from broken saves. Echoes left behind when Arceus tried to rewrite history. The world purged the memories… but not the scars."
They surrounded Ash.
"You're not supposed to be here," the tall boy said. "You were a hero once. But the cycle broke. You kept your mind. You kept your scars."
The silver-haired girl reached out.
Ash recoiled as an avalanche of visions slammed into his head:
—He watched himself fall before a version of Cynthia whose eyes glowed like suns.
—He held Misty's body in a Johto battlefield crater.
—He stood at the edge of time, hurling Pokéballs into the abyss while Giratina tore open the sky.
And worst of all—
—He saw himself standing over Pikachu, whispering goodbye as the little body faded into stardust.
---
He dropped to his knees, choking on air.
The smallest child crouched beside him. His broken face, eyeless and mouthless, radiated… empathy.
"You weren't meant to survive," he said inside Ash's head. "But you did. You're the last variable. The last contradiction."
Ash lifted his head slowly, blood dripping from his nose.
"Then tell me what I'm supposed to do."
The girl extended her hand. Above her palm, a glowing map of time twisted—like golden strings caught in a storm. Branches, resets, fractures. Battles lost. Friends dead. Regions fallen.
So many lives.
So many deaths.
"You have two choices," she said, her voice cracking.
"One—erase yourself. Let the world forget. Let the cycle complete."
Ash's breath caught.
"And the other?"
"Burn the cycle. Shatter the code. Remake the world."
Ash stared at her, and for the first time, his voice didn't shake.
"I want the truth. All of it."
---
That's when the sky split.
A vertical rift—silent and endless—ripped open the clearing like a scar. From within stepped a figure draped in black and steel.
Ash knew that face.
Paul.
But not the one from his memories.
This Paul radiated pressure, like a force of gravity bent around him. His skin was marked with the same forbidden sigils. His eyes held no hate—only understanding.
"Ash," he said. "You're late."
Ash stood.
Blood on his fists.
Fire in his eyes.
"I never stopped fighting."
Paul stepped forward, and time shuddered.
"Then it's time you joined the ones who remembered."