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The first time Ash has an epiphany about herself is when she is four years old.
She has just come home from school and is sitting at the dining table, munching on her mother’s croquettes. She eats slowly, savouring every bite, not letting a single morsel go unappreciated. She mms in ecstasy every time she swallows one down and swings her legs happily.
She watches her mother’s dress sway as she cleans the kitchen, paying attention to it with an almost single-minded focus.
“Mama,” Ash says. She still holds a croquette in her hand, ready to plop it into her mouth at a moment’s notice.
“Yes, dear?” Delia asks.
“I wanna wear a dress. I wanna be a pretty girl like you.”
Delia turns around, her eyes widening slightly in shock. Her mouth is open. Just a bit, like she doesn’t know where to start. Her eyebrows furrow, and she wipes the expression away. Instead, she smiles indulgently.
“That’s not quite right, dear,” she says. Ash blinks. “You don’t have to be a girl to wear dresses. Unless you really want to be. If that’s the case, you already are.”
Ash stops kicking her legs, pausing. She beams and says, “You’re right, mama! I’m a girl!”
For the first time since she first met a pokemon, Ash feels an especially warm feeling dwelling within her. It is as right as rain and as natural as breathing and as cold as now. It’s like a fact of life. She is Ash and she is a girl, and she has never been anything different.
I am Ash and I am a girl, and I have never been anything different. She smiles at the thought.
For as long as she has lived, which is admittedly not very long, she has always loved shiny things and pearls and glitter and frills. She’s worn frilly vests, bedazzled shoes, and kiddy hair ornaments encrusted with cheap, plastic jewels. How come she’d never known?
No, it wasn’t that she had never known, she just hadn’t thought to delve deeper into it. Huh.
She tries not to think about how her classmates tease her for her flamboyant fashion choices. How much they call her girly, even if it’s true, because it’s always intended maliciously. She forces an air of levity to her mien and smiles brightly.
“Is that right? Well, does Ash want anything special to celebrate her newfound identity as a young maiden?” Delia chuckles and sits on the other chair, dragging it closer to her daughter.
Ash giggles, closes her eyes, and taps her chin with one of her tiny fingers. “Um.” She pretends to think about it for a few seconds. “I want more croquettes, and I want dresses!”
Delia rubs Ash’s head, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “Of course, but we don’t want you to get after you just gobbled down so many! Finish off this batch, and then we can head off to the boutique. After that, I’ll make you more croquettes for dinner. What do you say?”
“Yay! Dresses, croquettes!”
Ash finishes off her last croquette with a hum, stands up and puffs out her chest, clasps her mother’s hand, and leads her to their town’s most renowned boutique.