This, this was an average Tuesday for Ash, in all honesty, but it didn’t change the fact he was upset. Arceus, yes, that one, had just bombshelled that they themself were Ash’s father. And they had done it right when they needed Ash to save the world for the 80 millionth time. But the way they had done it was in a very “i need you to clean up this mess specifically because you are my son” way instead of the usual “oh i just wandered here now I’m going to fix the world” way, at least in Ash’s mind. After all that time of being told that his father was a great Pokemon trainer… _this _was the truth?? And now, in his anger, Ash was refusing to clean up Arceus’s mess. Maybe it was a bit cruel to not do his duty as the Chosen One, but Pikachu wasn’t trying to convince him to do his duty, so he was perfectly content just watching Arceus try to rectify his own mess, rather than the usual, where Ash cleans it up.

“_Satoshi_, my son, I didn’t mean—“

“You’re only apologizing so I’ll go clean up your mess!” Ash snapped back at the literal god Pokemon that was apparently his father.

“_Satoshi_, I didn’t mean it that way—“

“Then what _did_ you mean?”

“I was only telling you because it’s not often I run into you, unfortunately, and it has nothing to do with the crisis at hand.”

“Fine… I’ll go clean up your mess again, but you better help, _Arceus_.”

Arceus couldn’t lie, that tone hurt a little.

“Of course I will, _son_.”

But then, since they had taken so long to as much as address the crisis, one of the many tumbling objects landed on an apartment building, squishing it to the ground. Anyone inside would almost certainly be dead.

Ash couldn’t help but cringe, “Right, let’s go then, _Dad_.”