How to impress a girl? Ash frowned. A good question…but one that I can't answer.

An evening breeze puffed through the damp, salty air. The Trainer pushed his unruly black hair out of his eyes, shielding them as he looked beyond the nearby sea. Across from him, a brunette boy with earnest, pleading black eyes was gazing at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Meanwhile, Ash suspected that the wetness he felt on his own forehead was not necessarily all due to the humidity…it was also nervous perspiration.

Kenny was counting on him. And yet –

The boy from Pallet Town took a deep, steadying breath. "I…I…don't know, exactly," he admitted, nonetheless racking his brains for an answer that might sound good to Kenny. But as he sunk deeper and deeper into thought, Ash was forced to leave his first answer standing. "I don't know," he repeated to himself in a whisper.

Kenny's black eyes were smoldering; they looked confused and hurt. "But you have Misty," he said in a disbelieving voice. "You must know how to go about impressing girls."

Ash gave him a sardonic smile. "Me? Impressing girls? That's crazy. I thought you at least knew me that well, Kenny."

In reply, the brunette crossed his arms in a no-nonsense manner. "Misty doesn't seem like the kind of girl who's easily impressed…especially by a boy," he countered.

"That's true," Ash admitted slowly, . He half-wished wished that Misty were here to explain for him – because he himself didn't know why she'd stoop to his level, like him or not. Unless… He blinked, realizing. Unless…

"Well? What's the secret?" Kenny asked, leaning forward earnestly. I have to know. I need to know…

Mind focused on his answer, Ash opened his mouth, closed it again, then bit his lip.

Finally he spoke, hesitantly at first, then more surely. "Well…I guess you should just be yourself," he said.

Talk about anti-climactic, Kenny thought disparagingly, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah. Everybody knows that. So?"

"I never did anything to impress Misty into liking me," Ash said, his voice firm with conviction. "That's for sure. I've been told by a certain female that I'm forgetful and dense, among various other things," he admitted, to be met with a snicker from Kenny. "But I guess just being me," – he spread his arms wide – "Ash Ketchum, was the answer."

Instead of retorting with another bitter remark or a sarcastic quip, the Coordinator sat in silence, apparently mulling over Ash's words. Finally he stood up. "Thanks, Ash. I'll try."

Ash grinned in response, standing up also. "If I may make so free," he said, using some lingo that he'd picked up at the Pokemon Medieval Faire, "who art thou attempting to impress with thine own self?"

"Sorry. You may not make so free," was the short, but amused, reply. Kenny started to turn away.

"I could guess instead," Ash offered slyly, dropping the foreign speech. Kenny turned around.

"Go ahead and try," he offered. As he realized what he'd said, young Kenneth's onyx eyes went wide with alarm. Stupid, stupid! He admonished himself. He cringed and waited for the answer.

"Well," Ash began, grinning like an idiot, "my first guess would be D-"

"GOTTA GO! THANKS, ASH!" the panicked Coordinator screamed, running across the sand with his fingers firmly planted in his ears.

Watching him go while shaking with silent laughter, Ash couldn't help but wonder how close he'd gotten to the truth. "Well, you can't win 'em all," he told himself at last, getting up from his rocky perch and, hands in pockets, wandering across the beach.

He thought of Misty again as he wriggled his bare toes in the whitewashed sand. "Dawn's a lucky girl for sure," he reflected. "And," he added, chuckling, "Kenny's an equally lucky guy – because Dawn doesn't own a mallet."