Chapter no.1 I Choose You part 1

Disclaimer: This will serve as the general disclaimer for the entire lifespan of this fanwork. Adamo_Amet does not own any intellectual properties (IPs) depicted in this fanwork. This fiction is non-canon, and all mentioned IPs are the sole property of their respective holders.

Support Links:

If you appreciate my work and want to support me, you can do so here: Search for Adamo_Amet on the patron site or DM me for the link. Join our community on Discord: DM me for the invite link. Why include support links?

I write because I love it, and it's been incredible to see readers on platforms like Royal Road and Webnovel appreciate my "jumbled ramblings" enough to donate. It's both surprising and humbling, and I hold no judgment about what people choose to support. I want to be clear that I will never put fanwork behind a paywall or delay releases due to perceived lack of support. I've seen others fall into the trap of "big-fish, small-pond" egomania, and I want to avoid that path entirely.

If you can spare a dollar to support my work, that's fantastic. If not, that's absolutely okay too! I'm always up for a chat, so feel free to join me on Discord!

------------------- 

"Oh, come on, that's bull crap!" Austin shouted, slouching back on the sofa, frustration bubbling over as he glared at the TV. Seriously? That just happened?

He rubbed his temples, trying to wrap his head around it. How does Pikachu—the same Pikachu that took down a Regice and held his own against a freakin' Latios—lose to a rookie Snivy? Sure, his electric attacks were disabled, but come on! He could've just used Iron Tail and sent that smug little snake flying. It made no sense.

This wasn't the first time the Pokémon anime had pissed him off. No, far from it. He remembered how Ash only took Pikachu with him to Hoenn—completely ignoring the rest of his team. And then he had the nerve to do the exact same thing in Sinnoh. I mean, Bulbasaur showed up for, like, one episode. One. Single. Episode. Who does that?

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he clicked off the TV. "Anyone could do better than that," he grumbled, reaching for his headphones. The moment he put them on, he felt a little more in control, the world fading out as the opening chords of "New Divide" by Linkin Park filled his ears.

Finally. Some peace.

With his parents out for another hour, he had some time to himself. After they got back, it'd be back to the grind—shopping for boring school supplies and whatever else they could think of. But for now? He could just… exist.

He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. But his mind wouldn't stop running laps around the disaster that was the Black and White series. How do you go from Ash in Diamond and Pearl, arguably his peak, to… that? It was just dumb. If he'd brought more than just Pikachu, maybe they wouldn't have made him lose to a beginner's Snivy. It was so stupid, he couldn't let it go. Who writes this stuff?

But as the song played on, something strange happened. His body started to feel heavy. Like, really heavy.

He yawned, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. What the hell? Just a minute ago, I was full of energy, all fired up over the show. Now, it felt like he couldn't even keep his eyes open.

I guess a quick nap wouldn't hurt, he thought, sinking deeper into the cushions. His body felt like it was melting into the sofa, the music swirling around him, pulling him under.

The last thing he remembered before drifting off was the bass thumping in time with his heartbeat, each beat pulling him deeper and deeper into sleep.

------------------- Austin felt his nose twitch as the sunlight pierced through the window, forcing him to turn his head away from its blinding rays. Instinctively, he curled up tighter, seeking the warmth of his covers.

…Wait.

He hadn't pulled any covers over himself.

A chill of unease ran down his spine as his eyes cracked open, and he froze. The room around him was definitely not his. His heart started racing, a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck as he shot upright, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

What the hell?

He scrambled out of the bed, his legs wobbly beneath him, like they weren't his. His gaze darted around the room, taking in the bizarre decorations: a Clefairy piggy bank, a Zubat hanging from the ceiling, a giant Snorlax bean bag chair sprawled across the floor, and a broken Voltorb clock with a mini Pidgey perched on top of it.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

He stumbled toward a mirror on the wall, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. As he caught sight of his reflection, his blood ran cold.

The face staring back at him wasn't his.

It was Ash Ketchum's.

No. No, no, no. This… This couldn't be real. His hands trembled as he lifted one to his face, and Ash's reflection did the same, perfectly mirroring his movements. His brain struggled to catch up, his thoughts spiraling out of control.

N-No way… This had to be a dream, right? It couldn't be anything else.

His hand touched his cheek, and the skin was warm, solid. It didn't feel like a dream. His mind reeled. How the hell did I get here? How am I in Ash Ketchum's body?!

"H-How—" He tried to speak, but the voice that came out wasn't his. It was Ash's voice. His heart dropped into his stomach. This was real. Somehow, impossibly real.

He screamed.

The sound ripped through the room, raw and panicked, bouncing off the walls as he lost whatever composure he had left. What the hell was happening to him?!

Almost instantly, he regretted the outburst. Footsteps pounded down the hallway, growing louder, closer. Before he could even begin to think of what to do, the door swung open, revealing a young woman with mahogany hair and amber eyes.

Delia Ketchum. Ash's mom.

"Ash, are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as her eyes searched his face for answers.

Panic tightened its grip on his chest. His first instinct was to confess—tell her he wasn't Ash, tell her this was some insane nightmare that didn't make any sense. But how would that sound? What could he even say? Hey, I'm not your son, I just woke up like this. Yeah, that'd go over great.

"I-I overslept!" he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. His voice—Ash's voice—was strained, panicked. He forced himself to adopt the identity, at least for now. It was the only way to keep things from spiraling further out of control.

Delia's worried expression softened into a gentle smile, but he could still see traces of concern. She didn't push him, though. Thank Arceus for that.

He awkwardly darted past her, his movements clumsy, uncoordinated. Adjusting to this body was like being shoved into clothes two sizes too small—everything felt weird, wrong. His legs were shorter, his arms were thinner, and he didn't know how to move without feeling like he might trip over his own feet at any second.

"Ash, wait! You need to eat something—" Delia's voice faded as he bolted out the door, ignoring the pit in his stomach.

What the hell is going on?

Panic surged through Austin as he sprinted down the street, his legs moving faster than his brain could keep up. He didn't know where he was going, but the need to move, to figure this out, was overwhelming.

This is a dream, he told himself over and over again. Just a really messed-up, hyper-realistic dream.

Any second now, he was going to wake up. He'd be back in his room, back with his parents, getting ready for school shopping or whatever mundane thing was on the agenda. But no matter how hard he wished for it, the wake-up call never came.

His lungs burned, and he slowed to a stop, realizing he hadn't even gone that far. Ash's house was still visible in the distance, standing there like a mocking reminder that none of this made any sense.

"Okay… okay," he muttered under his breath, trying to get a grip. "I'm obviously in Pallet Town."

He swallowed hard, the words barely making sense even as he said them.

"And I've become Ash."

He let out a nervous laugh, half-expecting to blink and find himself in some padded room, wrapped up in a straitjacket. But no, he was still here, in Pallet Town, standing in Ash's skin. The air felt too crisp, the sounds of the town too clear, too real. This wasn't how dreams felt.

His thoughts were interrupted by a distant noise—voices, laughter, and something else. He looked up and saw a crowd gathering near the gates of the Oak Pokémon Lab. Instinctively, he walked toward the commotion, hoping it might help him piece together this bizarre reality.

And then he heard it—a familiar voice, oozing arrogance.

"Well, Ash, better late than never, I suppose."

He stopped dead in his tracks. No way. He turned, and there he was—a boy his age, brown hair, blue shirt, black pants, holding a Pokéball like it was a trophy.

"G-Gary Oak?" he stuttered, feeling his brain short-circuit. This wasn't happening. How was this happening?

"That's Mr. Gary to you. Show some respect," Gary shot back, his words dripping with superiority. It was exactly how Austin remembered him from the show—the smugness, the cocky attitude. It was unreal.

"Well, Ash, you snooze, you lose. I have a Pokémon, and you don't." He smirked, basking in his own importance.

Austin could feel his blood boiling, but at the same time, a strange calm settled over him. This was his dream, right? He didn't have to take this crap.

"Must be quite the Pokémon to put up with your big head," he snapped before he could stop himself.

Gary's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting Ash to fight back like that. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. For a moment, Austin wondered if he'd gone too far. But then Gary narrowed his eyes, recovering.

"I bet you're wondering what Pokémon it is—"

"Squirtle," Austin said flatly, cutting him off.

Gary's jaw dropped, his ego visibly deflating. "How did you know?!"

Crap. He hadn't thought this through. "Uh, there are only three choices. I just guessed," Austin lied, hoping it sounded somewhat believable.

Gary gave him a suspicious look, but eventually, he let it go. "Well, whatever. Doesn't matter. I've got a journey to start, and you're already behind, Ashy-Boy."

His signature catchphrase sounded ridiculous now that Austin was hearing it in person. Smell ya later? Who says that? He had to suppress a snicker, wondering if Gary had some weird smell-related fetish or something.

Before he could dwell on that strange thought, an elderly voice cut through the chaos.

"So you decided to show up after all."

He whipped around, and there he was—Professor Samuel Oak, in the flesh. White lab coat, red shirt, brown cargo pants, just like the anime. But seeing him in real life, in front of Austin, was… surreal. The legend himself. He felt his legs go weak.

"P-Professor Oak?" Austin blurted, completely starstruck. His brain short-circuited again. This was just too much.

Professor Oak raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, you look like you're ready for bed, not for Pokémon training," he chuckled, eyeing Austin's appearance.

He glanced down and winced. He was a mess—just like Ash had been in the anime. His clothes were wrinkled, and he looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Great, he thought. Perfect first impression.

"Uh… I can fix this," Austin stammered, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

But then, something shifted inside him. If this was a dream, if he was really stuck in this, he might as well lean into it. He wasn't just Austin anymore—he was Ash. And Ash… Ash had a Pokémon to get.

A grin spread across his face as he looked Professor Oak in the eye, the nervous energy suddenly turning into something bolder.

"But I am ready for a Pokémon," he declared.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Austin felt like he had some control. If he was going to be Ash, then damn it, he was going to be the best version of Ash.