The first time Ash met a wild Pokémon was when he was six years old.
Mom had told him not to go out in the long grass, where there might be wild Pokémon, and Ash thought that was kind of boring – because, well, Pokémon were cool – but Mom did seem to know what was best most of the time.
And she seemed to know when Ash did something he wasn't supposed to, too, so he stayed out of the long grass. Instead he played in a little woody thicket, which was around the back of Mr. Garrison's house, and which didn't have any long grass in it so it was okay to play there.
He'd been thinking about showing Gary, but Gary was being a meanie-head lately and Ash wanted to keep the thicket a secret for just a bit longer. That way when he told Gary about it Gary might actually say thank-you, instead of saying that Ash was a stupid.
Ash didn't like being called a stupid.
He did quite like climbing, though, and even though there were only a couple of dozen trees in the thicket some of them were really big and gnarled and twisty so they were perfect for climbing. And Ash was a long way up in the air, feeling for his next hand-hold, when instead of finding a branch he found something soft and warm and yielding.
"Whoa!" he yelped, flinching back, and his arm flailed for a moment before he managed to get his grip.
The thing he'd touched made a squeaky sound, then moved, and Ash's mouth dropped open slightly as it turned out to be bright pink – with big, blue eyes, and a long, whip tail, and slowly turning upside down as it floated in mid-air.
"Are you a Pokémon?" he asked.
The probably-a-Pokémon giggled, both paws going to its mouth.
"Hey, it wasn't that funny," Ash complained.
It really was! Ash's new friend(?) replied. You asked if I'm a Pokémon! I'm a Pokémon! What else would I be?
"I dunno," Ash admitted. "But if I guess then sometimes I get it wrong."
He reached up to where the Pokémon had been resting, and used the now-unoccupied handhold to haul himself up into a crook in the tree.
"What kind of Pokémon are you?" he asked. "Umm… are you a Flying type?"
I'm a Psychic type! The Pokémon told him. I'm Mew! Who are you?
"I'm Ash Ketchum!" Ash introduced himself. "And one day I'm going to be a Pokémon master!"
Ooh, Mew said, sounding deeply impressed. What's a Pokémon master?
"...um," Ash began. "I… haven't thought that far yet. I guess it means having lots of strong Pokémon and being friends with them!"
That sounds like great fun! Mew declared.
"Oh, um, how come you can talk, actually?" Ash asked, suddenly remembering something. "I thought Pokémon couldn't."
That's silly, silly, Mew insisted. I'm psychic, but just because not all Pokémon are psychic doesn't mean they don't talk. You just don't listen right!
"Hey!" Ash complained. "I'm listening to you!"
Mew giggled again. Really?
This time, Ash actually noticed. The words weren't being said by Mew's mouth, they were sort of just… being heard.
So Mew could talk while giggling.
"Wow, that's cool!" he said. "But if I want to make friends with other Pokémon, um… I think I need to think about that a bit more."
Well, that can wait, Mew said. Because I just came up with a great idea!
The Pokémon booped his nose.
Bet you can't catch me! Mew said, floating out of reach, and Ash laughed before trying to follow.