Blaze's Past I: A Small Hand, A Big Dream
Night settled softly over Pewter City.
Inside the Pokémon Center, most lights were dimmed, corridors quiet except for the distant hum of machines. Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town sat on a chair beside a small treatment bed, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight.
Caterpie lay there, bandaged and resting. Its tiny body rose and fell slowly with each breath.
Ash hadn't slept.
He leaned forward, adjusting the blanket again even though it was already fine. "Sorry," he whispered. "I should've noticed sooner. I keep messing up."
Caterpie stirred slightly but did not wake.
Ash swallowed. "I'm trying. I really am."
Charizard stood in the hallway outside the room.
It hadn't meant to stop. Its feet had simply slowed when it heard Ash's voice, low and cracked, slipping through the open door.
"I thought I was ready," Ash continued quietly. "But wanting to win isn't the same as knowing how to protect you."
He reached out, resting two fingers gently against Caterpie's head. Careful. Measured.
"I won't rush you," he said. "Even if it takes time. Even if I lose."
Charizard's tail flame flickered.
The words slid under old scars, pressing against memories buried deep beneath pride and heat.
And the past answered.
Blaze's Past I
A Small Hand, A Big Dream
Warmth.
That was the first thing.
Not fire. Not battle. Warmth.
The world was light and shell and sound when the egg cracked. A small orange claw pushed through, then another. The hatchling tumbled free, blinking at a sky too wide to understand.
"Hey," a voice said.
A small hand appeared. Not rough. Not grabbing.
Just there.
The Charmander looked up.
The human was young. Not strong. But smiling so hard it almost hurt.
"You did it," the boy said. "I knew you would."
The boy wrapped a scarf around the hatchling's neck clumsily, too big, slipping over one eye.
Charmander chirped, confused.
"I'll take care of you," the boy said quickly, as if afraid the promise might escape. "I swear."
Days passed.
They trained badly.
The boy tripped. The Charmander burned bushes instead of targets. They laughed. They failed. They slept under trees when tents collapsed.
But the boy always waited.
Always knelt down to check scraped claws. Always shared food even when it meant less for himself.
When Charmander's flame burned low one rainy night, the boy shielded it with his own body, teeth chattering, whispering, "I'm here. I won't let it go out."
Trust formed.
Hope took shape.
Charizard's eyes narrowed in the present.
The memory shifted, darkening at the edges, but it stopped there. For now.
Inside the room, Ash stood and stretched, exhaustion weighing on him.
"I'll stay up," he said softly, more to himself than Caterpie. "Someone has to."
Charizard turned away slowly.
But it did not leave the hallway.
The weight of care was heavy.
And for the first time in a long while, it felt familiar.
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T/N:
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