The field trip was officially over.
The early sun filtered through the trees, casting long golden shadows across the clearing as the last tents came down. Birds called to each other overhead, and the faint smell of smoke and dew still clung to the morning air.
After a final debrief from Professor Oak—who made no mention of the Nidoking incident beyond vague warnings about respecting wild territories—the students were told to pack up. There was no discussion. No questions allowed. The silence surrounding what had happened was near-total, like a curtain drawn across a stage just after the final act.
Ash tightened the straps on a classmate's tent roll, cinching it down with practiced ease. His hands moved on autopilot. His eyes, however, kept drifting toward the treeline, scanning for something he already knew wasn't there.
No flash of pink. No hum in the air. Just forest.
Goh hadn't said a word all morning.
He worked like a machine—packing his things quickly and efficiently, head bowed over his sleeping bag, notebook tucked protectively under one arm. It didn't leave his side now. As if the pages inside held something sacred. Or dangerous.
Ash recognized the look on his face.
He had seen it before. On older faces. On soldiers. On obsessed men in books. It was the look of someone who had touched something enormous and come away scorched, and instead of pulling back, had decided to chase the fire.
Chloe stood beside him, her backpack already slung over one shoulder. "Do you think he's okay?" she asked in a low voice, nodding toward Goh.
Ash didn't look up. "Definitely not."
Chloe sighed. "Yeah. That's what I was afraid of."
They both watched as Goh crouched near the edge of camp, sketching in his notebook again. He wasn't drawing with his usual mess of sarcasm and commentary—no snide remarks about bad lighting or bug bites. He was focused. Silent. The tip of his pencil danced across the page like it was the only thing holding his mind together.
"He's not going to let this go," Chloe murmured.
"No," Ash said, voice flat. "He won't."
The rangers arrived shortly after. Two of them, older and serious, with matching uniforms and belts that held whistles and tranquilizer capsules. A pair of Growlithe padded beside them, alert and calm. The return route would be different than the one they came in through—this one longer, but safer. Well-mapped. It would avoid territorial zones, nesting grounds, and whatever part of the forest had hosted that near-disaster yesterday.
Or miracle. Depending on who you asked.
The students lined up, some more alert than others. Most of them chatted nervously, trying to force the mood back to normal. But the deeper tension still hung in the air, a quiet static beneath the conversation.
Ash walked near the front, Chloe beside him. A boy from Cerulean kept going on about how a Beedrill had dive-bombed his tent on the second night. Ash gave polite nods, but his mind was elsewhere.
A few minutes into the hike, Green fell into step beside him. She looked sharp as ever—arms crossed, boots steady on the trail, eyes scanning everything.
"You've been quiet," she said.
Ash gave her a shrug.
"You sure nothing happened out there?" she pressed. "Something about you feels… different."
He shot her a look. "Besides almost getting trampled to death by two Nidokings? I'm fine."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "You're either the luckiest kid I've ever met or the dumbest."
"Why not both?"
Green snorted and looked away, but Ash could tell she wasn't convinced. Few people ever were.
The hike continued in relative silence. Birds chirped. The canopy grew thinner as they approached the edge of the woods. Sunlight filtered through the trees in warm slants, brushing the trail with dappled light. It should have felt peaceful.
It didn't.
Ash glanced back down the line. Goh was walking with Chloe now, but he wasn't talking. His mouth was set in a tight line. His notebook—worn at the corners, the back cover now bent—was still clutched under one arm.
Ash frowned. "Yup," he muttered, mostly to himself. "He's cracked."
"Hmm?" Green glanced back.
"Nothing."
Overhead, a pair of Pidgeotto soared in lazy circles, riding the thermals. Ash watched them fly, feeling a sudden pang of envy. For a second, he imagined what it might feel like to lift off the ground, to shake loose every burden he didn't ask to carry, and just go.
Not yet, he reminded himself. Not yet. But soon.
Eventually, the trail curved up a ridge, and then the trees thinned enough to reveal the view: a wide bluff overlooking the town below. Pallet looked smaller from this angle—rooftops nestled like toy houses among the trees, fields stretching outward toward the sea.
The group paused for a break, as the rangers instructed. Students dropped their packs and scattered across the clearing to drink water or sit in the shade.
Ash moved to the edge of the bluff, hands in his jacket pockets. The wind picked up, cool and light. Petals from a nearby tree drifted past him, catching the light like soft embers. The ocean glittered beyond the hills, a silver-blue smear on the horizon. And somewhere, past all that, everything was waiting.
Everything he hadn't done yet.
"You're always staring off like that," said a voice behind him.
Ash turned slightly. Yellow stood nearby, hands behind her back, eyes curious. She stepped closer, watching the horizon with him.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Ash said, a little too quickly. "Just thinking."
Yellow gave a small nod, but didn't back off. "That Nidoking incident was… intense."
Ash gave a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah. You could say that."
"You sure you didn't see anything else?"
Ash hesitated. "Nope. Just a lot of angry roaring."
Yellow narrowed her eyes. "Not what I meant."
He looked away.
There was a pause, then she said, more softly, "You've got that look again."
"What look?"
"The one you get when you've seen something that no one else would believe."
Ash didn't reply.
Because it was true.
He had seen it.
Mew.
Alive. Real. Looking straight at him—and then at Goh—with a gaze that felt older than the stars. It had changed something in him. Not just in Goh. In him.
Yellow didn't push. She never did.
A few minutes later, Green walked over and flopped onto the grass beside them. "So apparently someone's claiming it was a rogue Dragonite. And another guy swears it was a Rhydon with radioactive tumors."
Ash gave a half-smile.
"You always manage to be at the center of things," Green said, watching him closely. "But you never explain anything. Ever."
"I like being mysterious."
"More like annoying."
Yellow laughed, but Ash didn't.
Because the truth wasn't funny. And it wasn't something he could explain—not to them. Not yet.
Eventually, the rangers gave the signal to continue, and the students began the final descent. Pallet drew closer with every step.
Ash slowed his pace as they passed the town boundary. Goh was lingering at the back again, eyes locked on the clouds overhead. His steps were slow, but his grip on the notebook was tight, almost possessive.
Ash waited for him.
"You really believe it chose you?" Ash asked, his voice quiet.
Goh didn't look at him. "Yes."
Ash nodded. "Then make it count."
Goh didn't reply.
They reached the gates of the Pokémon Lab shortly after. Parents and guardians were waiting—clustered outside, chatting with Professor Oak, sharing tired smiles. The atmosphere felt normal again. Mostly.
Delia Ketchum waved when she saw him, eyes lighting up. She hurried forward and pulled Ash into a warm hug, rocking him slightly from side to side.
"Welcome back," she said, brushing his hair from his forehead. "You look exhausted."
"I'm okay," Ash mumbled into her shoulder.
"How was the trip?"
Ash hesitated. "Strange."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Well, I made stew."
He smiled. "Thanks, Mom."
She placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked together.
Behind them, Mr. Walker gently guided Goh toward the car. But the boy didn't speak. His eyes were elsewhere—on the sky, on the trees, on things only he could see. His father said something. Goh didn't answer.
The notebook was already open in his lap before the car pulled away.
That evening, Ash sat on the front steps of his house, a warm mug of tea between his hands. The sky was painted in streaks of orange and violet, stars blinking to life above the hills.
The world felt bigger now. Quieter.
He thought about Mew. About the way the forest had gone still when it appeared. About the moment it had met Goh's eyes—and what it might have seen.
Ash didn't know if Mew had really chosen Goh.
But it had marked him.
The front door creaked open. Delia stepped outside, shawl around her shoulders, and sat beside him.
"You want to talk about it?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Not really."
She didn't mind.
They sat in silence, watching the stars bloom.
"There's something about that forest," she said quietly. "I remember walking through it once, years ago. With your father. And when we came out, it felt like we weren't the same people anymore."
Ash looked at her.
She smiled faintly. "Some places just… see you. And once they do, you can't go back to who you were."
Ash didn't answer.
But her words stayed with him.
That night, Ash unpacked slowly. He placed his rolled sleeping bag in the closet, slid his field journal under his bed, and paused when he saw the Polaroid near his desk.
It was from two summers ago. Him, Yellow, and Green—laughing at a festival, fireworks frozen behind them.
He picked it up, smiled faintly, and set it on the windowsill.