Chapter One

In all honesty, Ash or really Satoshi, had never really cared for another person. He just made sure to hide it well. He would always hide it, that is until his mother Delia had started hitting him around his fourth birthday after that he couldn't bring himself to care what others thought of him even if he naively still tried to earn her affection.

He remembered the most impactful beating clearly it was practically his Christmas present, as it revealed a great many things to him. It had been just a few weeks before the beginning of a new year, almost seven months since his tenth birthday (not that he celebrated).

Gary and him were fishing, hoping to get in some activity before it started to get to cold as winter set in. He didn't exactly know the odds of it happening, but their fishing rods (he borrowed one from the Oak House) managed to get caught of the same old Pokéball which had lost its ability to enlarge itself. The two had fought over it, him just following his friends example, until the capsule split cleanly in two separating the red top and white bottom.

That one-sided fight was followed by Gary angrily declaring that he didn't want to be friends with a loser, something that despite hearing a lot stung him a bit coming from him, before he stormed off with his half of the ball. Ash had listened absently to his turned over yells that he better be prepared in the future because form now one they were rivals. Rivals as to what he didn't know til later when he'd realized Gary had been talking about their Pokémon Journey. He couldn't be blamed either after all they wouldn't be going until a few months after he turned eleven , which was nearly five months and a few weeks away.

On his way home as it got dark, of course after he dropped off the borrowed fishing rods with the Professor, he contemplated as to why Gary had acted the way he did. Ash never had a great understanding towards kids, as other then Gary all the other kids had started avoiding him around the same time they were old enough to form their own opinion. While he was sure it had something to die with the rumors his mother spread he never cared enough about righting them. He'd observed Gary every moment they spent together trying to piece together how someone his age should act, in hopes of pleasing his mother and being left alone. Gary was extremely expressive so it helped, but he also learned that not many kids liked Gary because he was arrogant and bossy while the other adults were annoyed he was the Professor's grandson and thus the Pride of Pallet Town.

He never reached a conclusion either. All he could think of was the odd sensation of annoyance he felt toward the boys declaration. Gary seemed to have forgotten that he was the one who insisted on being friends with him. In the beginning Ash had stated clearly after being annoyed with the boy's bossy attitude that he didn't want friends and he wasn't interested. He didn't appreciate how the boy had forced himself in and then suddenly forced himself out. A small part of him felt hurt and even a little angry but those feelings dulled quickly like everything else and he gave up on figuring out why.

He'd given up on asking questions like why toward the terrible events that built up his life a long time ago around when he realized his mother never loved him and never would.

Despite him not figuring out the reason as to why Gary had ended their friendship, Ash quickly discovered the consequences of it. He had forgotten the fact that news and gossip traveled quickly in the small town and it was as he closed and locked the front door of his home that suffered for it.

SLAP! THUD!

Before he had time to process it, he was sprawled across the floor struggling to get up and he searched for the cause.

THUD!

But he had little luck as something slammed into his back, just as he'd gotten on his knees and elbows, sending him right back to the floor.

"Disgusting selfish little brat! What do you think gives you the right to fight over a toy with someone else!"

Any panic he had felt vanished after he heard the familiar voice filled with disgust and hate. It was merely an 'oh, it's just her' moment, as he knew not to answer her words which seemed like a question. He'd learned to never answer her during punishments, to never make a sound or she'd be even harder.

"You gave up your friendship with the only kid who even bothered to somehow find some nonexistent worth in you! Worthless!"

He grit his teeth as her foot dug deeper into his spine. Despite his earning for it to be numb like it used to be, he wasn't as used to it as he had been in previous years, and he hadn't been prepared for it. He'd always hide away the memories of his suffering, his abuse, when interacting with others. It made it so his eyes didn't seem as lifeless, and he'd be able to feel most things at least for a short time before they grew dull. Likewise he'd always kindly 'forget' about her grievances against him was he was out the front door. It helped that she had been nicer as well during 'discipline', spreading it into shorter lengths of time through out a longer period hiding the damage and making it seem normal, due to the fact that he was forced to go out more with a friend.

Now though he quickly realized she didn't have too. He didn't have a friend that required he show himself at least four days a week to show he was alive. The thought scared him, he hadn't prepared his body to endure the long and painful beatings for a few years time. He'd always thought that he'd be able to survive til he was old enough to leave, but now he wasn't so sure.

He didn't know how long it had been since he started kicking him occasionally stepping on his arms or legs hard enough that his bones almost broke but didn't quite, rather only suffering small cracks, when he made a mistake crying out in pain a bit to loudly.

The kicking had frozen for only a moment before she grinned her heel on his head and seethed, "I hate your disgusting voice. You don't seem to have learned your lesson."

He heard her foot steps going away from him and he desperately wanted to escaped but he couldn't feel his body, the current type of pain one he hadn't suffered for a while. He was still out of it when she returned and harshly grabbed the back of his neck and lifted him up. He groaned a bit at the pain and feeling of his spine wanting to disconnect from his head when he was suddenly choking on whatever she was forcing down his throat.

She stopped just as suddenly releasing him and letting him fall to the floor. And as he started to puke and cough up whatever it had been poured down his throat, he could barely make out the disgusted sneer on her face as she spoke before disappearing, "Worthless trash. Clean up this mess after, and then go to your room. I don't want to see your face for a while!"

His throat felt like it was burning, a sensation he was familiar with but it felt different this time like he was being dissolved from the inside. Once he finished puking and coughing up the liquid he couldn't identify it eased a bit even if it still hurt and he wasted no time stumbling to the kitchen to came a rag to clean up the mess. Stumbling upstairs, and into his bedroom clumsily locking the door behind him he fell on to his bed the pain to much for him to hold together his mind, he slipped unconscious and only the next day did he discover the damage she had done.

That particular beating had been a little over five months ago, and he had long turned eleven his birthday present being another beating followed by rant where he was forced to listen from the floor to her screech about how worthless he was for throwing away his friendship for a mere toy. How he looked just like his father, acted just like his father, and was no better than his father, making him less than human in her words.

In his most recent beating, the pain had brought him back old feelings as the days closed in on his Journey. It was interesting how not even six months after a resume of their old schedule it didn't quite hurt as much. No it didn't not even as she stepped on his fingers and as he heard a crack from his chest, as blood rose in his throat reminding him of old wounds and pain, promising pain the next day but also telling him he was alive. Even as she stepped on his head again, grinding her shoe (luckily not a heel this time) into it.

Rather he felt an eagerness as she ranted about how much she hated the stupid things that took away everything from her but those that which she hoped would get rid of him for her; Pokémon.

They were the only thing that helped clear a bit of dullness from the world now. Something he once viewed with little interest but hope into his life. Never had he cared for any of them other than his father's Pokémon, yet nowadays his memories of the mischievous pink Pokémon that oddly reminded him of a cat floating in the air that found him when he ventured into the woods for a place to read were the only things keeping him alive through his struggles.