Pokemon: Ambertwo [Pokemon Fanfic/Isekai]

Morning came with the sound of Pidgey calls and clinking plates downstairs. The guest room was small but cozy, its yellow walls a welcome change from the stark white of Dr. Fuji's apartment.

I found clothes laid out on a chair—borrowed from Ash, a simple t-shirt and shorts. They still carried a faint scent of laundry detergent.

I nodded, thankful to be finally rid of the dress. I never liked dresses, especially those frilly ones.

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of coffee and maple syrup. Stephen stood at the stove, flipping pancakes while Ash set the table, occasionally shooting me curious glances. Under the table, Poliwag sat with its bowl of mixed berries—Oran, Pecha, and what looked like Sitrus—alternating between delicately picking at its breakfast and hopefully watching for dropped pancake bits.

"Morning," Stephen said without turning. "Sleep okay?"

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me. "Yes, thank you."

Stephen turned from the stove, spatula in hand, and slid the first perfectly golden pancake onto a plate. He placed it in front of me with a warm smile.

"Hey!" Ash protested immediately. "How come she gets the first one?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "We have a guest, Ash."

"But—" Ash started, then caught his father's look and slumped in his chair. "Fine," he muttered, shooting me a quick, suspicious glance.

"Yours is coming right up, bud," Stephen said, pouring more batter into the pan, "And this one's bigger."

This seemed to mollify Ash, though he continued watching me from the corner of his eye as if I might somehow steal his breakfast too.

Stephen set a bottle of maple syrup down in front of me. "Dig in. They're best when they're hot."

Ash tracked the bottle's movement with the intensity of a Fearow watching prey, his eyes narrowing as I picked it up.

I drizzled a modest amount over my pancake at first—the responsible adult portion my brain suggested was appropriate.

But something about the warm, golden scent rising from the plate stirred a craving I couldn't ignore. Before I knew it, I was tipping the bottle again, watching amber liquid pool in the divots of the pancake.

"Whoa, you like syrup even more than me!" Ash exclaimed, his jealousy momentarily overcome by wide-eyed admiration.

I blinked at my creation—a sugar swamp that my college-self would have dismissed as disgusting.

But when I took that first bite, the sweetness hit my taste buds like a revelation. My adult mind registered it as overwhelmingly saccharine, but my body responded with pure delight.

"Good, right?" Stephen asked with a knowing smile.

I nodded, already cutting another syrup-soaked piece. Apparently, this body came with its own super sweet tooth.

Stephen slid a stack of three perfectly golden pancakes onto Ash's plate. "Here you go, champ."

Ash immediately grabbed the syrup bottle, tilting it with wild abandon. The sweet liquid splashed and pooled haphazardly, some hitting the pancakes, some creating sticky puddles on the plate, and a few drops landing on the table. From below, Poliwag's excited "Poli!" suggested at least a few drops had made it to the floor.

"Whoa, easy there," Stephen said, reaching for the bottle. "That's way too—"

"But she used even more!" Ash protested, jerking his chin toward me while maintaining his death grip on the syrup.

Stephen's hand froze mid-reach. His eyes darted to my syrup-flooded plate, then back to Ash's half-drowned stack.

I shrunk a little in my chair, taking a hesitant bite as Stephen's gaze wandered to my plate. The sweetness now seemed somehow incriminating.

"Well, I..." he began, scratching the back of his head, then sighed in defeat. "Fair point."

"Just..." Stephen continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "don't tell your mother, okay? Either of you."

Ash nodded solemnly, as if they were negotiating state secrets rather than breakfast condiments. Then he dug in with gusto, syrup dripping from his fork with each enthusiastic bite.

We finished our pancakes in companionable silence, interrupted only by Ash's occasional appreciative "Mmm!" and the clinking of forks against plates. As Stephen collected our empty dishes, he glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Almost time for school, Ash. Go grab your backpack—we leave in five minutes."

"Okay!" Ash bolted up the stairs with thundering footsteps that seemed excessive for someone so small. Poliwag waddled after him with the same excitement.

Stephen laughed as he watched his son rush up the stairs, but there was something thoughtful in his expression as he looked at me. His hand went to the worn Pokeball at his neck. "Before we leave..."

The chain clinked softly as Stephen lifted the worn Pokeball from his neck. "This is the girl we discussed last night," he said quietly.

When Electabuzz materialized, the kitchen felt suddenly smaller. Battle scars crossed its yellow fur like a map of old conflicts, the deepest running from shoulder to chest. Small sparks danced between its antennae as it sized me up.

"Buzz, buzz," Electabuzz sighed, crossing its arms with weary patience. The gesture pulled at the old scar running across its chest, a pale line visible even through the yellow fur.

"Come on, just for today," Stephen coaxed. "I said I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Maybe see if Professor Oak will let us borrow Dragonite for a proper spar?"

Electabuzz's antennae crackled with sudden interest. The resigned slump of its shoulders straightened, competitive fire flickering in its eyes.

"There's that fighting spirit," Stephen grinned.

Then, turning to me: "Electabuzz here, he'll keep an eye on things until Delia gets back. And anything happens…" Stephen started.

"If Dr. Fuji shows up?" I supplied quietly.

Stephen glanced at Electabuzz. The electric-type bumped his fists together, sparks dancing between them.

"Buzz Electabuzz!" Electabuzz gave a loud battle cry.

Stephen's grip tightened on the chair. "Yeah. That. Electabuzz wouldn't let him near you." He paused, studying my face. "Unless you wanted to stay—"

I shook my head. "No, not with Dr. Fuji."

The words came easily. That crazy scientist kinda gave me a bad feeling. But it stirred memories of another friend that was still with Dr. Fuji. I wonder if it saw me as a friend.

Stephen nodded silently, looking me over with concern.

"I'll be fine," I said, glancing at Electabuzz with a smile. "We can bond—" Electabuzz snorted at the word, and I dropped a quiet "probably."

Stephen chuckled, ruffling my hair with casual affection that felt both foreign and comforting. "Don't take it personally. Buzz here isn't exactly the nurturing type."

Electabuzz grunted in confirmation, crossing muscled arms over his scarred chest.

Thundering footsteps answered as Ash careened down the stairs, backpack bouncing wildly against his shoulders while Poliwag trailed after him. He skidded to a stop at the bottom, eyes widening at the sight of Electabuzz.

"Whoa! Dad, is Buzz staying home today?" His disappointment morphed instantly to excitement. "Can I stay too? Please? I want to train—"

"School, Ash," Stephen said firmly, guiding him toward the door.

Ash dug his heels in suddenly, turning to look at me with narrowed eyes. "Wait! What about her?"

Stephen's hand froze on Ash's shoulder as he paused before slowly continuing, "She just arrived. She'll go to school like you once she settles in."

Ash's face darkened as he shot me a resentful glare, "Not fair," he grumbled, shoulders slumping as he allowed himself to be guided toward the door.

"There's leftover curry in the fridge for lunch! Just ask Electabuzz if you can't reach it!" Stephen said, then paused to return Poliwag to its ball.

"Buzz," Electabuzz snorted, shaking his head with a slight smirk.

I watched through the window as father and son raced down the path, their laughter carrying on the morning breeze. Just another ordinary morning in Pallet Town.

Except nothing about this felt ordinary for me.

I turned to find Electabuzz watching me, arms crossed, sparks casually dancing between his antennae.

Time to figure out how to spend a morning with my new bodyguard. Maybe he'll be like Ditto?

-[^.^]-

He was not like Ditto.

Where my previous shapeshifting friend had evolved from formal guardian to playful companion, Electabuzz maintained his professional distance.

It scoffed at my attempts to copy his stance, sparks crackling with what might have been annoyance when I mimicked the way he crossed his arms or tried to make funny faces.

I soon gave up and began to explore the house. Elactabuzz followed me wherever I went like the diligent bodyguard he was.

Crayon drawings covered the fridge—earlier ones showing wobbly Weedle, Oddish, Rattata, and Butterfree and Caterpie, newer ones proudly featuring a round blue Poliwag. Near the kitchen doorway, pencil marks tracked Ash's height through the years, each line dated in either a neat or messy script.

I wandered upstairs and paused at Ash's room. Curiosity overcame any sense of boundary—this was THE Ash Ketchum's house, after all.

His room was exactly what you'd expect of a kid: clothes scattered everywhere, half-read Pokemon magazines sprawled open on the floor. I didn't linger long, just enough to spot a well-worn guidebook to Kanto Pokemon buried under some laundry.

The morning dragged on. Between sets of push-ups and squats, I watched some random battle broadcast and studied Stephen's badge case mounted above the fireplace—eight badges gleaming under glass, arranged with pride.

A dual-toned green plant-like emblem, a metallic gray octagonal piece, a gleaming blue water droplet, a red crystalline design, a simple yellow circle, a pink heart shape, a multi-colored flower medallion, and a radiant orange sunburst badge. All 8 of the Kanto badges.

I glanced at Electabuzz, who followed my gaze and snorted. His antennae sparked with what might have been pride... or maybe regret.

Moving closer, I noticed something I'd missed before. Hidden partially behind the badge case was a small, worn black and white photograph

I recognized Electabuzz, though back then the scar across his chest was just unmarked yellow fur. The others... a Graveler with determination in its rocky features, a Pidgeotto still growing into its crest feathers, a proud Growlithe, and a Machop flexing with endearing enthusiasm.

Stephen's words from last night echoed: "I wasn't good enough back then."

I glanced at Electabuzz. He stood motionless, staring at the photo, antennae drooping slightly. For a moment, the stern guardian was gone, replaced by something older and sadder.

Then, my stomach growled loudly, breaking the spell.

Electabuzz shifted, glancing at my stomach with what might have been amusement.

With a businesslike grunt, he gestured toward the kitchen, antennae sparking back to their alert position.

I followed him into the kitchen, where he reached into the refrigerator and pulled the container of curry and rice, reheating it.

Then, he reached back into the fridge to grab a huge container of mixed berries—similar to what Poliwag had for breakfast.

We ate in silence, the only sounds being my spoon against the bowl and the soft crunch as Electabuzz methodically worked through his berries.

After lunch, Electabuzz just tossed the dishes into the sink with a clatter that made me wince, apparently considering his caretaking duties complete for now.

I jumped onto the couch and continued watching the next pokemon battle broadcast. I settled in, trying to follow along with the announcers' rapid-fire commentary about type advantages and counter-strategies, focusing more on the commentary now that my energy had been partially exhausted.

Electabuzz silently stood next to the couch and watched the broadcast with a glint in his eyes—Nostalgia?

The front door slammed open with enough force to make Electabuzz flinch. Ash burst into the living room like a miniature hurricane, backpack half-unzipped and hanging precariously from one shoulder.

"Whoaaa! Is that Clair's Blastoise?" He vaulted over the back of the couch and landed beside me with a bounce that nearly sent me airborne. "Hydro Cannon is so powerful!"

I blinked, startled by the sudden invasion of my quiet afternoon. Electabuzz made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.

Delia appeared in the doorway moments later, her expression shifting from mild exasperation at her son to a careful as her gaze passed me. She lingered at the threshold, one hand resting on the doorframe.

"The way Blastoise times those water pulses is genius!" Ash continued, not noticing my surprise or his mother's hesitation. He mimicked a cannon-firing motion with his arms. "See how he waits until the very last second? Dad says that's advanced timing."

On screen, the Blastoise executed a perfect counter-blast, sending its opponent skidding across the arena. The crowd roared.

"Yeah, it's—" I started, but Delia cleared her throat.

"Ash," she said, her voice firm but not harsh. "You can watch the match later. Homework first."

"But Mo-om," Ash dragged out the word. "It's Clair's Blastoise!"

"Homework," Delia repeated, finally stepping fully into the room. Her eyes flicked briefly to me, then away. "There will probably be reruns later."

Ash slumped dramatically against the couch cushions. "Fine," he grumbled, but made no move to get up. "Who's your favorite trainer?" he asked me, lowering his voice as if Delia might not hear him from six feet away.

"Ash." Just his name this time, but with a warning tone that made him sigh loudly.

"Okay, okay." He hauled himself up, dragging his backpack behind him. At the foot of the stairs, he turned back. "Can I watch now and then do homework after dinner? Pleeeease? It's a Blastoise!"

Delia's expression softened as she glanced at the TV, then at her son—carefully keeping me at the edge of her vision. "Maybe you could try to do your homework during the commercials."

Ash's face lit up. "Really? Yes!" He bounded back to the couch, nearly tripping over his own backpack in his rush. "Did you see that counter just now? The way Blastoise—" He paused mid-gesture, suddenly self-conscious. "Um, do you like Pokemon battles?"

"Do I like Pokemon battles?" The question caught me off guard. After all, my only real experience was through games and—

"Like Pokemon battles?" I grinned, settling more comfortably on the couch. "Of course I do! My entire life I've—"

"Right?" Ash's face lit up even more. "Did you see that Hydro Cannon earlier?"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK WITH ROUND THREE AFTER THESE MESSAGES FROM OUR SPONSORS!"

"Oh! Commercial!" Ash scrambled to grab his worksheet, nearly dropping it in his enthusiasm.

"Fifteen times seven..." Ash muttered, scribbling confidently. A very wrong '3' appeared on the page.

"That's not—" Delia and I started at the same time. We both stopped.

I glanced up to find her standing in the doorway. She met my eyes for a brief moment, then nodded slightly and stepped back. "Go ahead," she said softly.

"Okay, let's try this step by step," I said, turning toward Ash. "First rule—always start with the ones..."

We worked through the multiplication problems between bursts of battle and commercials. Ash's pencil would freeze mid-calculation every time a pokemon appeared on screen.

"So seven times five is—"

"OH WATCH THIS!" Ash pointed frantically at the TV. "See how Blastoise's cannons are angled? That means—"

"Rapid Spin!" the trainer—Clair?—shouted as Blastoise tucked itself into its shell and whirled into motion. The massive turtle Pokemon became a blur of brown and blue, its rotation thundering across the arena as it kicked up clouds of dirt.

"Swift! Break its rotation!" The opposing trainer called. His Skarmory's wings flashed as it launched a barrage of star-shaped energy.

The energy stars scattered in brilliant flashes against Blastoise's spinning shell, but the massive Pokemon plowed through, clearing the scattered spikes from the field in its wake, until Clair held out her pokeball and returned it.

As the dust settled, the camera panned across the battlefield. Skarmory landed with a metallic rustle, both trainers steady as they considered their next moves.

Then, they cut to the announcer. "And Clair returns her Blastoise! What will be her next pokemon? Find out after a quick word from our sponsors."

"15 times 7," I read aloud, looking at his half-completed attempt. The "3" sat alone, abandoned mid-calculation. I drummed my fingers quickly on the page, aware the commercials wouldn't last long. "Okay, the first rule—always start with the ones. 7 times 5 is...?"

"35!" Ash was practically bouncing in his seat, pencil already scribbling in the 5 after the 3 and trying to move onto the next problem.

"Wait!" I called out, my eyes darting to the commercial about some of the latest Silph Co. battle gear, then back to the paper to tap the '1' in '15', "You did the one's, now what about the ten's? The one in front of 15?"

"Oh right!" Ash said as he wrote a 7 in front of his '35.'

"Slow down. What are we supposed to do with the 3?"

Before Ash could answer, both our heads snapped up to the TV screen just as a Dragonair materialized in a flash of red light, its blue scales gleaming under the arena lights.

Skarmory launched into the air with a metallic screech, unleashing Air Slash after Air Slash. But Dragonair simply waited, dodging and weaving through the air. When Skarmory finally overextended, Dragonair struck—one precise Ice Beam that caught its opponent's wing mid-flap, freezing it solid.

"AND THAT'S ROUND THREE!" The announcer's voice rose over the crowd's cheers as Skarmory collapsed into the ground with swirls in its eyes. "We'll be right back after these messages from our sponsors!"

Ash picked up his pencil again, then glanced at me expectantly.

"You have to be patient," I said, my eyes catching a TV ad that felt just like back home—smiling stock footage while an announcer speed-read terrifying side effects.

"Like Clair back there. See how she didn't rush? Step by step, that's how battling works. And that's how we should do this homework."

Understanding flashed in Ash's eyes as I pointed to the 3, then above the '1' in '15'. "This should go here. We don't immediately add it to our answer. We 'carry' the 3. And then we add it to the '7'."

Ash nodded slowly, erasing the '3' and putting it above the '1'. He looked back at me.

"Good, now what is 7 + 3?"

"Ten!" Ash answered, practically bouncing in his seat as he wrote down the 0, carried the 1, then checked for approval.

I chuckled as a contest battle promo flashed across the screen. "Now we can just write that 1 down. It's like a battle strategy—you don't throw everything at once. You position your moves carefully," I gestured at the carried numbers, "saving some power for when you need it most."

Ash's eyes lit up as he carried back down the '1' into the final answer. "So carrying numbers is like... storing up energy for a big move?"

"Exactly!" I grinned, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Each step builds up to—"

The TV cut through our moment: "—and with that Ice Beam, Clair has knocked out 2 of Nolan's pokemon! What will be Nolan's last!"

"—Build to the final answer to win the problem!" I say, but Ash was already paying more attention to the real pokemon battle.

His pencil hovered above the next math question as Nolan's final pokeball burst open. A Hitmonchan materialized, already bouncing on its feet in a fighting stance.

We spent the next few hours like that—Ash bouncing between furious scribbling during commercials and complete absorption in the matches. His arithmetic was getting neater though, more methodical. Whether any of this would stick once the TV was off... Well… that was a different equation entirely.

Sometimes I caught glimpses of Delia in the doorway, watching. She'd linger longest when I was correcting Ash's work. When I looked up and tried to give her a smile, she attempted to smile back, but it was obviously strained.

"Dinner's ready!" Delia called out from the kitchen.

Ash immediately dropped his pencil mid-equation, practically bouncing toward the smell of tomato sauce. I followed more slowly, my new body's stomach growling despite my mind's hesitation.

Dinner was pasta with a rich tomato sauce that made my mouth water—comfort food. Electabuzz continued to eat his berries. But something felt off about the meal.

"Did you finish your homework?" Delia asked as she glanced at the wall clock. 6:53.

"Yeah, I finished my math homework thanks to..." Ash trailed off, realizing he didn't even know my name.

"Amb... Amber," Delia supplied, her voice catching slightly.

Ash nodded seriously, "Thanks to Amber."

"What about your other homework?" Delia asked.

Ash paused mid-bite and tried to look away, suddenly very interested in his glass of water.

Delia sighed, setting down her barely-touched fork. "After dinner, then. And no TV this time. Your teachers say you're falling behind…" She then glanced at me, something uncertain flickering across her face before she continued, "Maybe Amber could..."

"Sure, I can help Ash," I said quickly.

"I don't need help from a g—" Ash started to protest, then caught himself, looking between his mother and me. Perhaps remembering how I had helped him so much with his math homework, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. But can we at least work in the living room?"

"How was school today?" Delia asked, her eyes drifting to the clock again. 7:02. "Did Ms. Martinez like your science project?"

Ash's face darkened. "Gary and his friends kept saying my presentation was stupid." After a short pause, he continued, "Mom, when's Dad and Poliwag coming back?"

"Soon, honey." Delia's fork clinked against her plate as she set it down. 7:03. "He's probably just..."

I focused on finishing my pasta, trying not to think too deeply into it. My new body was still hungry despite everything.

The wall clock ticked on as Delia glanced at it yet again, lines of worry etched in her face.

"Ms. Martinez said my project on water Pokémon was 'overly simplistic'," Ash grumbled, stabbing a meatball with his fork. "No wonder Gary and his friends laughed at me."

"I'm sure it was a wonderful project, sweetie," Delia said distractedly, eyes flicking to the clock. "Everyone starts somewhere with their Pokémon knowledge."

When we finished, Delia soaked the plates in the sink, her movements quick and distracted. Ash spread his English workbook across the living room floor, grumbling about vocabulary words.

"I need to go check on something," Delia said, grabbing her coat. She paused at the door, looking at Electabuzz. Some silent understanding passed between them. "Keep guard?"

The electric Pokemon nodded, stance shifting subtly to something more alert.

I watched her hurry down the path, knowing exactly where she was going—to look for Stephen. To see if Dr. Fuji had done to him what he'd done to those other failed experiments.

The next hour blurred into vocabulary definitions and reading comprehension. Ash tried bargaining for TV breaks twice, but I held firm—remembering my own struggles with divided attention back in college.

"We'll finish faster if we focus," I said after his second attempt. "Then we can watch as much TV as your mom allows."

By the time we finished, the wall clock read 7:42. Still no sign of Delia or Stephen.

Ash sprawled across the couch, flipping through channels while Electabuzz watched from its position by the window. I tried to focus on the colorful battle highlights, but my eyes kept drifting to the darkness outside.

Suddenly, headlights filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the living room walls. Electabuzz's growl started low, barely audible, but I felt it in my chest. I switched off the TV mid-battle commentary.

"Hey—" Ash started to protest, but then he saw Electabuzz's stance—muscles coiled, electricity crackling between its antennae.

The car engine cut off. Footsteps crunched on gravel, slow and deliberate.

The doorbell chimed once. Nobody moved.

It chimed again, followed by knocking. "Delia?" Dr. Fuji's voice carried through the door, oddly calm. "My love? I brought your favorites. Dahlias... just like our first date."

More knocking, harder now. "Please, darling. Don't you remember? You love flowers..."

The footsteps retreated. For a moment, just silence.

I started to breathe again—

The night lit up red. The door exploded inward in a burst of flames and splinters, framing Dr. Fuji in the doorway.

His white suit was immaculate, not a wrinkle or scorch mark. Pink and yellow petals scattered at his feet as a Magmar's flames illuminated his face from below, casting strange shadows across his empty smile.

"Delia?"