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He was new, which was a surprising occurrence that it almost brought among the question of whether or not he was a genius that would eventually rule the world one day.
Ash Ketchum wasn't a genius.
League High is a prestigious school for people who are talented. Was he talented?
But he seemed so... off. He had these charismatic features of him that made him so right, so entertaining, so innocent.
And yet, he refers himself to somebody completely different.
"He had so much damn respect he wanted to scream."
"I could have saved you from this defeat. Maybe even turned it into a victory."
"I'm a murderer, even when I play."
There were so many questions, so many details, so many half-lies and half-truths, it's even more surprising when there's only one puzzle piece that makes up his picture.
"I'm only fair-minded before and after battles."
He watched as she died. They're all dead.
"I'm dead too," he thought.
His family's words pounded him.
"He likes to be used. If he isn't being used, he doesn't have a voice, and he doesn't have a reason. He's a puppet, darling. You can't let him go."
Ash was quick-witted, intelligent, and a natural-born trainer at heart. His pokémon were fierce, and he was fiercer. To have those words ingrained into his memory was astonishing, but he was the Stolen Spirit, and they were burning, scorching truths that were carved into his very being.
And he had the scars to prove it.
[This is a fanfiction, and if it wasn't obvious enough, it's a pokemon fanfiction. I do not own the series, but my ideas are credited to me.]
Main shipping has not been decided. There will be slight violence, warnings are given on specific chapters. Any cussing is "bleeped" out to the best of my ability.