Chosen One.

Heh, yeah, that makes sense to me.

Everyone believes in you, Ash!

You can do it, Ash!

Fight your hardest, Ash!

What if I don't win?

What if I lose?

Did you ever think of that?

I can lose, you know. I have before. It's not impossible.

Everyone thinks I'm so cocky.

That's because if I'm not you baby me!

Are you okay, Ash? It's okay, Ash! You'll get them next time, Ash!

I don't want your sympathy.

I don't want your pity.

I don't want your love,

Or your hopes,

Or your dreams.

I have my OWN stuff to do.

Oh, little Ash.

Ash loves his traveling partners.

Yeah, you're cool and all.

Now go away

You know who I want? I want Pikachu. That's who I want back.

You know who I could stand?

Brock and Misty.

They're my trio.

Say what you want.

Say I'm in love with them.

Say they love me.

Say I need them.

No, that's not it.

We were a team.

That's why I want them.

The three of us could handle anything…

…not to mention set up a camp and have dinner cooking in under two minutes.

Other than that,

I don't freaking want you.

Read my journals! Read them, read them from before I met anyone, before I had a pokémon!

I didn't say I wanted friends traveling with me.

Oh, but Ash! You just ranted about how great it would be to battle.

No. No, I didn't!

I wrote down that I wanted to see new places, make lots of new friends.

I wanted to be with Pikachu.

I'm a kind hearted boy. I couldn't say no, Brock, Tracey. I couldn't leave you alone when you needed me, May, Max, Dawn.

Misty, Jessie, just followed me. I'm sure the Team Rocket motto will still be following me on my adventures, whether I want it to or not.

Brock, Tracey, thanks for the laughs and the food. Thanks for the advice and the friendship. never could cook. You could laugh, though, and you were a great friend. Thanks for that...

One day you will be calling me Mr. Pokemon Master, and you won't be laughing.

None of you will.

I let you come.

Now let me go.

Ash quietly hit the send button. It was done. Everyone would get it. Everyone he'd ever met, everyone he bothered to get an e-mail address from would be reading this in private. Some of them would throw fits. Some would cry. He hoped they wouldn't cry. He couldn't stand it. He wouldn't get any replies until the morning. They'd be angry. He couldn't imagine May's reaction, or his mother's! He paled. Oh, no, what would Misty do? She didn't handle rejection well…

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the quiet ding of the computer just a few minutes later. He gulped. The Waterflowers. Not good. He quietly clicked open the e-mail, braces for some kind of rant. But it wasn't. No signature, no angry smilies, either. It wasn't three words, but four. It wasn't "I still love you" or "How could you, Ash" or "I will always miss you" (which was actually five words, but Ash didn't bother counting syllables), but the four words he needed so desperately to see.

Don't forget to write.