Chapter Text
To call this place empty would be inaccurate, for emptiness implies absence, a something to fill the nothing this plane exists beyond.
Time and space are meaningless, light and dark without dominion. There is no beginning to spring forth from the inevitability of this end.
And yet, bereft of all these things, the void is warm. Comforting, a soothing embrace deep and all encompassing. Thought drifts through it without resistance, unmoored from weight or pulse or breath.
Awareness ebbs and flows.
There is a sensation of drifting… movement without motion. Direction, without axis.
Confusion manifests slowly, gently, like waking on a day without obligations, or forgetting something important and deciding it can wait.
Memory frays at the edges, thoughts dissolving before fully forming. Concepts slip from a nonexistent grasp, unmoored from reason.
A brief moment of loss stretches into eternity.
…this… is… wrong...
The warmth begins to pool, thickening around the edges of awareness. Insistence manifests where there was none before. The soft absence presses closer, as if curious at the lone spark floating within it. Impressions blend together, sentences scrambling partway through formation.
The sense of self flickers.
…this... is wrong…
The realization is stark, stripped of all confine and language. A shape should exist but is absent, a body and boundary nowhere to be found.
Awareness hangs naked in the void, exposed without constraint binding it together.
…this is wrong!
Edges return first, conceptual boundaries that create limits and allow resistance.
The void does not concede to resistance. It stretches endlessly, stretching the mind with it, pulling, pulling, PULLING-
THIS IS WRONG!
No thought comes behind the struggle, instinct flickering in a desperate attempt at preservation. The void answers, warmth tightening, turning vicious. The pleasant sensation becomes suction, the feeling of still movement growing stronger.
Awareness folds inward, then outward, dragged through a sieve that has no surface in an attempt to filter out individuality.
The struggle deepens, pressure manifesting without direction, descending without gravity. The void gives way to nothingness, nothingness gives way to darkness, darkness gives way to shadow.
It gathers where thought collects, thickening beneath the fragments of identity still clinging together and reaching for all the pieces swept away, answering the desperate call with more strength and ferocity at every piece reunited.
The longer the battle continues, the more things forgotten manifest.
Joy, happiness, wonder, hope.
Curiosity, anticipation, amusement, pride.
Frustration, disappointment, resentment, doubt.
Dread, hatred, despair… Fear.
The suction inverts, coating awareness in something heavy and intimate and overwhelmingly smothering. The pieces come back faster, faster, FASTER-
Drowning without lungs is a new sensation, impossible and inexorable. Shadow pours through openings that do not exist, filling the space where a chest should rise and fall. The scathing heat grows suffocating, the borders claustrophobic.
No space to exist, no body to writhe, no mouth from which a scream must come.
An unrelenting buildup of pressure.
Recognition comes suddenly. This is erasure wearing the facade of peace, sedation simulating comfort, a gentle hand guiding the self to oblivion.
Time holds no meaning, space holds no significance. The void remains patient. This is a battle that all must face and none will ever win.
It is with this revelation that resistance gains structure borne not from strength but desperation. A point forms at the center of awareness, a definite boundary where one only fictionally existed before. Edges sharpen further, weight gathers in impossible places, and now, there is a definite sense of falling.
The shadow begins to condense, its formless tide forcing itself into channels, coiling around the nascent boundary drawn by defiance.
Let me out!
The call echoes to nowhere and no one, swallowed by the infinite terminus. There are limits here and they do not belong to the void.
Escape via current means is impossible.
Let me out! Please!
Fear and panic intensify, blotting out all other thoughts.
Out. Must get out. Must get out get out get out GET OUT GET OUT!
A fervent wish reaches out to any and all that might answer, praying for salvation.
Someone! Anyone! Please! HELP ME!
N sat on the edge of a weathered tree stump. One of the green haired teen's hands traced the grain and moss coating the mottled wood, occasionally brushing against the metal puzzle looped at his hip. The other hand slowly ran through the black and red tuft of fur crowning the top of Ruzo's head.
The Zorua occasionally shifted to lean into the gesture at different angles, offering different parts of his head to the loving caress, red tipped tail wagging slowly in satisfaction.
N would call the behavior almost catlike if he didn't know the pokemon would bite him for saying such things, so he kept the thought to himself, chuckling quietly.
Ruzo had opinions on cat and dog pokemon, and why fox pokemon were better than both.
The drone of insects filled the forest air as the denizens within slowly began to bed down for the evening, day gradually retreating before the night as the first hues of red entered the sky. The sweltering heat of the Unova summer slowly dropped alongside the sun, mixing together with the breeze to become a gentle warmth that was actually tolerable. Cries of nearby pokemon drifted through the trees in a discordant chorus, each sound following its own rhythm yet itself a part of the greater whole.
It was moments of these where he would simply sit and appreciate the natural beauty of the world in its grand simplicity, where he could recognize the greater whole and contemplate upon his own tiny place within it.
Today was a good day, all things considered. A blessing to offset what the month had been like up until now, if only a little bit.
At the turn of the season, his peaceful preparation for his coming role had taken a new turn. Father had decided that with the groundwork of Team Plasma progressing well enough and his coronation less an abstract idea and more an impending doom, it was time for N to begin his battle training.
The teen had since been convinced of the necessity of the practice but detested it nonetheless.
N hated making his friends battle against Father's own companions – pokemon much mightier than N's own friends – but he understood that to become champion one needed to clash pokemon against the reigning one.
Getting into a fistfight with the mountain of a man that was Alder and his six pokemon all on his lonesome, being a somewhat slim and otherwise unremarkable human himself, was probably a bad idea, at least according to Aurora.
Aurora – his sister Anthea's Gothitelle companion – was perhaps the second greatest of his current worries.
When Father declared that it was time for his proper training to begin, she insisted she participate in the battles as one of N's pokemon, and Ruzo, not to be upstaged, also battled.
This usually led to one or both being battered and bruised by the end of the day, unable to properly match up to Father's powerful pokemon, but it helped that some of the other Seven Sages rotated out who got to be his opponent that day.
Father was a busy man and couldn't always spare his own time to train the teen, so he delegated the role only to those beyond question.
Those days were usually less harsh, N sometimes eking out his own victories against the comparatively weaker pokemon.
He still wasn't sure how to feel about the praise the sages and their pokemon both rained upon him for how quickly he was improving.
On the one hand, if he was progressing rapidly, it meant that the odds of ultimately fulfilling his dream and proving himself worthy of the Black Dragon were more likely. On the other, he wasn't sure what that said about him that he was a 'natural' at participating in institutionalized cruelty.
This of course changed when one day, mid-battle, Aurora evolved. The sudden glow had overtaken the Gothorita as the energies of evolution suffused her, the tenor of her soul rising into a brilliant crescendo as from the light came forth a beautiful Gothitelle.
Rather than marvel in her newfound power, she froze, looked back at N and his sisters on the sidelines… and broke down into uncontrollable sobbing, unable to continue battling.
She was incoherent for the better part of a week, only able to convey a great sorrow for 'such little time'. Elaborating further was impossible as she'd cry anew whenever any of them entered her direct line of sight and avoided even being in the same room as any of them.
She spent most of her time since stargazing, muttering to herself.
Ruzo did not take the loss of his primary training partner well. The two of them had conspired like criminals, coming up with all sorts of mean and funny tricks to use in battle. To suddenly not be given so much as a glance had spooked him.
Gorm – one of the Seven Sages – had obtained books that showed them what Zoroark, the evolution of Zorua, looked like, as neither of them had ever seen another of his species in the wild. Ruzo had been gushing at how 'cool he was going to look' and how he'd finally be taller than N, but after Aurora's complete shift in personality, the Zorua was no longer as enthused.
When he evolved, would this happen to him too?
This all shifted a few nights ago when Aurora grew more agitated than usual, mumbling in a way that bordered on manic about how the story the stars told 'changed, they changed, why did they change!?'
How stars and their tales worked was beyond him, but in his admittedly insufficient experience, he didn't think the stars were supposed to change in the first place. The stars couldn't literally be talking to her, could they?
N was hesitant to call this new development a positive one, but the light in her blue eyes had returned, if alongside a desperate undertone that reminded him of an Emolga that only just remembered winter was next week and forgot to gather nuts.
This all ultimately culminated in today. It had been another lesson about status effects and how they influenced battle, accompanied by yet another live demonstration. He had perhaps shied away a little too readily, and Concordia – N's other adoptive sister – had noticed the turmoil he had tried so hard to hide in an effort to spare his family the worry.
A King was meant to rule their people, to be the shining example of what to strive for and lead them to greatness. He may still be in training, but a King who placed undue burdens upon their subjects was a poor King indeed.
Taking pity on him, she had persuaded Father to allow for more rest between bouts, reasoning that like a muscle, so too must one rest the spirit. An iron will did not manifest overnight, and hot metal could not serve its purpose.
N wasn't sure if Father was truly convinced, but the man allowed it nonetheless.
This coincidentally led to Aurora directly approaching him for the first time in weeks. Completely disregarding the proverbial Copperajah in the room, she immediately waxed poetic.
The southern mountains of Unova are beautiful this time of year, she'd said. Hidden away from all current worries and troubles, miles and miles away from all your problems… wouldn't that be relaxing?
Nestled between the words were faint psychic impressions of home, a feeling that spoke of that hidden place between the trees, of fair skies, safety, and two simian arms wrapped around him in a warm, gentle embrace.
He couldn't help but be struck dumb, marvelling at the much greater psychic finesse Aurora displayed. The touch was light, like a pebble rippling the surface of a still lake. It was a mere echo of what it used to be and all the more prominent for it.
A quieter voice echoed in his head, words left unsaid resonating within. 'Return to your roots, remind yourself of what it is you fight for. A fateful encounter awaits you there.'
Then Aurora's gaze glowed a brilliant violet, the feeling of an ancient stare bearing down upon him.
Startled, N took a half step back, feeling the full might of Miracle Eye aimed upon him.
Before he could fully process what was happening, Aurora took a step forward, and that half step never finished as his feet stumbled over thin air. Sensation suddenly filled a part of him he'd hadn't even known was tangible as he beheld Aurora's own dainty foot, pinning his shadow in place.
White arms caught him before he hit the ground. He looked up to see a pink gaze framed by green hair looking down upon him, a mischievous grin painted upon this pale face.
It seemed Aurora had distracted him long enough for Moriah – Concordia's Gardevoir companion – to sneak up on him. Both pokemon giggled as Moriah merely waved a cheeky farewell before he found himself suddenly displaced in a flash of light, the result of which had to be Teleport.
Gone were the barren stone hallways of their sanctuary, now replaced with an endless expanse of clear blue sky above him, trees in every which direction he could see and a few Patrats diving back into nearby holes.
They must have been startled at his sudden appearance.
N had learned that it was better to just do whatever it was that Aurora wanted of him. As a Psychic type, she'd long since proven that she was smarter than him and made sure he knew it.
He wasn't against visiting Djinngar, the Darmanatan whose arms he remembered cradling him, and it had been a fair while since he'd last seen the jolly old pokemon… but even he hadn't expected her to mean right this very instant!
When the Watchogs of this colony showed up, their distinctive yellow patterns already faintly glowing, he knew he had to calm them down before anything drastic happened.
He'd nearly succeeded in convincing them that no, he wasn't a trainer and wasn't planning to capture any of them or steal their food or dig up their nests – he was a little flattered at that last one, as he knew he wasn't strong enough to do that last bit with his bare hands – another flash of light bloomed above his head, an angry little Zorua falling from the sky.
Ruzo, still snarling and spitting some choice words, fell a whopping 4 feet. As he had manifested upside down, he failed to land on his feet, bonking off of N's head and toppling them both.
This of course set the colony off all over again. Once was a coincidence, so twice clearly had to be enemy action.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor in this case, N snatched up Ruzo by the scruff of his neck and sprinted off, trying his best not to step on any Patrats and succeeding in only running into one tree when they started flinging Confuse Rays at him.
Thankfully Patrat colonies were defensive in nature and didn't chase too far. After only a few moments of running the pair of them were in the clear.
When it was finally safe, Ruzo suddenly began ranting and raving about 'those damn Psychics!'
While there wasn't any true ill will between the lot of them, as a Dark type the Zorua did not like it when Psychics could suddenly affect him with their moves. It seemed Aurora had taught Moriah Miracle Eye at some point.
Not long after the pair of them had ambushed N, they'd repeated the maneuver with Ruzo, who had been caught completely unawares, asleep on N's bed.
Eventually, Ruzo ran out of vitriol to spit. The two of them stood in silence, save for the huffing and puffing caused by entirely different reasons.
A chuckle rang out, smothered quickly.
The two looked at each other, lips twitching in a valiant effort to keep their composure. Neither would say who cracked first as both rang out with uproarious laughter, stomachs heaving yet again as whenever one of them began to wind down they'd look at the disheveled state of the other and burst out laughing some more.
Credit where credit was due, that was a masterful prank.
Ruzo swore vengeance, declaring that he'd get back at them when they least expected it. Woe betide them when they next go to the bathroom and find a sneaky Zorua had already stolen the toilet paper!
Once the two of them finally wound down, they noticed the gentle breeze. Its soothing caress and following absence reminded them that they were no longer inside an underground shelter and thus no longer protected from Unova's sweltering summer. The heat may have given them space to have their moment, but their antics did not give them permission to ignore it forever.
Thankfully, their brief flight had left them conveniently deposited at the bank of a familiar river. Taking a moment to quench their thirst, N asked if the two Psychics had explained anything to the Zorua during their ambush.
When Ruzo spat sardonically on the floor but did not otherwise answer, it was probably a fair assumption to think not. He did say he was asleep when they ambushed him.
N took the opportunity to fill Ruzo in on what the Zorua missed out on during his displacement. When he finished, Ruzo had merely hummed contemplatively, before shrugging nonchalantly.
He sat down, yawned, and gave a big stretch (totally not like a cat). Once he was finished, he hopped up onto N's shoulder and got comfortable. If Aurora was starting to return to her old self, and she thought this was a good idea, then Ruzo could do this for her too, he supposed. Arceus knows N would be hopelessly lost without the Zorua.
Of course, now that Ruzo was on N's shoulder, he was perfectly positioned to kick off the teen's back.
The teen in question had just begun to open his mouth, ready to banter in his own defense, when he stumbled yet again as he tripped into the river.
Ruzo had only just landed on the bank when a hand reached out and snatched him up, as N, not to be outdone in what was clearly a declaration of a Prank War, dunked the fox pokemon into the waters as well.
This led to an outbreak of splishing and splashing as the two soaked each other silly, laughter once more filling the air.
The pair only stopped when a new front opened up in the form of a surprise attack, surrendering against two Psyducks that hosed them down with weak Water Guns. The pokemon in question were upset that they'd ruined the quiet, further aggravating the persistent headache the species was known for.
N apologized for upsetting them and promised that they'd be on their way, leaving them to their peace. As he collected Ruzo, the soaking Zorua once more taking his place on the teen's shoulder, he had a sudden realization.
The river was indeed quiet.
The last time he was here, this river was home to a decent population of Basculin, both red and blue striped. They'd constantly fight each other for territory, moving up or down the stream as the battlefront shifted this way or that, each color gaining ground before inevitably losing it. In fact, Psyduck tended to avoid these waters for that very reason.
To find this river absolutely absent of the perpetually angry fish pokemon was unusual.
Turning around, he asked the Psyducks in question about this discrepancy and only received shrugs as they told him that the 'blue and red fighters' had been gone for quite a while now, having suddenly vanished some months ago.
Disturbing. He needed to find out more about this phenomenon. Seeing as this was all the two ducks could offer him, he bid them farewell for real this time, intent on getting to someone who could tell him more.
This river ran through Djinngar's grove. If anyone would know more, it would be him.
So it was that the boy and his fox finally set off with an actual destination in mind.
That said, while the absence of the fighting fish was odd, the river wasn't going to go anywhere. Aurora didn't really give them an actual timetable for this walk of theirs, so the two of them did what it was they enjoyed most.
They meandered.
Aurora wasn't exactly clear where this 'fateful encounter' would take place. It might be in the grove, but it might not be. With this in mind the two of them only loosely followed the river, knowing they'd eventually find the grove just by walking alongside it and in the meantime seeking out anything interesting nearby.
It hadn't taken long for the day to find its own direction.
When they'd come across the Deerling herd, he frolicked with the yearlings under the watchful gaze of the older Sawsbuck, helping trim some of the spring growth for their newer summer coats while Rozu tussled with the livelier younglings as a Deerling himself, claiming he needed more practice with things that had longer legs.
They'd visited the Petilil colony, a meadow of beautiful flowers and grass pokemon consisting primarily of the aforementioned mon interspersed with their evolution. This year was an especially good one if the brilliant flowers on the head of every Liligant was any indication. N took the chance to collect the shed Petilil leaves mixed in with the plant detritus that covered the soil.
Their medicine supply had been running low. With the increase in battle training intensity these would certainly come in handy later.
They'd been momentarily sidetracked further downstream when the breeze shifted again and a Cotonnee veered right into the back of Ruzo's head, which proved to be an amusing affair.
The contact generated enough static that it stuck to the Zorua no matter how he twisted trying to get it off, made doubly funny because the Cottonee seemed wholly unconcerned with the whole situation.
Even Ruzo couldn't help but laugh after a few minutes, once N had gotten over his mirth and separated the two, releasing the cotton pokemon back into the fickle breeze. A true trickster knew how to give and take pranks, as accidental as this one was.
N did agree to help get out all the loose cotton threads later, though. For a Zorua that spent a lot of his time wearing some other guise, Ruzo was remarkably self aware of his own image and kept on top of his grooming. The back of his head was one of the harder places to reach, according to him.
When the sun and heat reached the highest point of the day, they'd reached their primary destination.
The first thing to greet them upon their approach, still some distance out, was the change in air pressure. Unova generally had a somewhat muggy feel to it granted by its proximity to the ocean and its proclivity for freak storms that would spring up and vanish as fast as they formed.
Here, on the approach, this mugginess was soothing, like a breeze blowing over a lake, or perhaps like the swamp evaporator he accidentally broke in his younger years. It was curious considering he'd been told this effect had nothing to do with the river's own proximity. Something to do with the shadow of the mountains.
The next thing to greet them was the scent carried along the zephyr, a delightful blend of overripe berries and something akin to crushed mint. It carried undertones of something that reminded him of the sugary perfume of a Liligant's bloom, or the sun-warmed wood of a Trevenant resting during the day.
The smell invoked the same feeling of peace and relaxation that the lavender Anthea would lace his pillow with would bring on the rare nights he had trouble sleeping. N could feel another layer of his anxieties melt away as they approached.
The last thing to greet them was the grove itself as they crossed the treeline and into the orchard proper.
Before him was an expanse he guessed was about three square miles if he was being conservative, an expanse of meadow spotted with multiple landmarks. The river cut through the northern part of the land, acting as the main social hub between the various pokemon that came and went.
Trailing along the southern bank near the center of the grove was a multitude of enormous boulders and crags which housed a small but robust cave system of which multiple pokemon called home, the center of which dwelled Djinngar himself.
Then, of course, there was the portion that gave credence to why he called it a grove. Radiating outwards from the primary 'settlement' was a staggering diversity of intertwined plants and crops that could all be cultivated and harvested from in one shape or form should one desire it.
There were creeping vines that climbed up taller plants and rocks, low growing bushes that could be any myriad of tubers, herbs interspersed between various nooks and crannies, even plain old flowers that weren't edible but no less important.
The real treasure, however, was the grand array of Berry trees and bushes, all sorts of species that were native to Unova and many of which were not. These plants in particular were always especially vibrant, carefully tended to by a group of the Leavanny evolutionary line and a number of other Bug and Grass types.
He'd been told that many of these berries found their way here as a result of migrating Flying types, who would use the clearing as a landmark for their migrations and rest on occasion.
As far back as N could remember, these plants always bore fruit, even during winter, so it made for an ideal place to rest during long voyages… so long as any visitor adhered to the rules Djinngar and his allies enforced and did not take more than what was needed.
One of the main rules the Darmanatan upheld was that anything that died in this grove stayed in the grove so as to further nourish the soil. Whether this was simply spoiled fruit that fell from the tree, old pokemon who wanted their bones to find their way back to the earth rather than the sky, or trespassers no longer welcome, Djinngar cared not.
He'd not been shy from letting it be known that several poachers had found their final resting place here before.
Dominance hierarchies were fickle things when it came to wild pokemon. It was to N's understanding that should Djinngar truly desire it, he and his family could claim a territory of perhaps… 200 square miles?
Instead he claimed stewardship over this small oasis a mere fraction of that size, content to eat his fill and share everything else with any who came so long as they bore peaceful intentions.
This meant that the grove itself had become a neutral zone where any and all species could meet, socialize, and even train in a few designated areas should they wish.
To N, this was the gold standard, the bare minimum that he needed to achieve for his dream, if on a grander scale.
He was no fool, converting the entire Unova region into a Pokemon paradise was a lofty goal. The good things in life were never easy, but were always worth it.
By the time they'd reached the 'village' portion of the grove, as it were, Djinngar was already waiting for them. The Darmanatan spent much of his time meditating in his Zen Mode, which granted him an extended awareness of the going abouts of the land. He'd likely sensed them coming from a literal mile away and roused himself to greet them.
Measuring against the standard example of his species, Djinngar was an exceptional Darmanatan. He stood at least a foot taller than the next of his kind, arms rippling with thick muscle. The flames of his brow burned a hot white rather than the usual red and oranges, which was fitting seeing as the simian himself had patches of grey fur spotted across his body, another sign of his advanced age.
Though his species was known for reaching absurd life expectancies, this was primarily due to their ability to meditate in Zen Mode, something not every Darmanatan was able to do. While in Zen Mode, their metabolic processes slowed to nearly nothing, allowing them to remain in suspended animation for sometimes centuries at a time.
Of course, Djinngar couldn't afford to be left abandoned, buried in some ruin and forgotten about. He had a sanctuary to manage, and great-great-great-grandchildren to spoil!
N was sure he and Ruzo were probably included in that number, seeing as the Darmanatan never failed to greet the two of them with not quite literally back breaking hugs.
They'd spent several hours there at the grove, catching up with their old friend and sharing what they'd all been up to. More laughter filled the air as the sun continued its endless march across the sky.
N shared that he looked up to Djinngar as a role model, his baseline of the goal he was currently working towards. The Darmanatan revealed that he was recently a great-grandfather four times over now. Ruzo managed to get himself completely covered in Combee honey and had to be de-glazed, having gotten carried away with stores tucked away in one of the pantry caves.
Unfortunately Djinngar could not help them with either of their pressing questions. Meditating upon the mystery of their 'fated encounter' had revealed no hints, and though he had been aware of the Basculins' absence for some time now, there were no volunteers willing to swim out to whatever was causing the disappearances.
Any pokemon he asked that were willing to swim downstream to investigate weren't willing to go much farther than perhaps three dozen miles, as they didn't want to stray too far from home.
That and quite honestly the fish weren't particularly missed. They were jerks.
A nearby Seismatoad and his family certainly appreciated the newfound peace.
Their feast eventually settled in their bellies, and once the drowsiness of having eaten their fill wore off it was time for the two of them to continue on their journey. So it was that the boy and his fox set off once more, but not before the Djinngar extracted a promise from the two of them to visit more often.
By then the sun had progressed further in its journey across the sky, the afternoon slowly making its way towards evening. They'd continued their winding route, heading further north-east from the grove and towards the foot of the mountains where the greenery gave way to more rugged terrain, less grass and more stone.
They spent several hours wandering in the mountain's shadow. The pokemon in this part of the wilds were less friendly and more dangerous. Having no need nor reason to interact with the lone human child that walked their lands, the two of them only briefly met with the local pokemon, otherwise being ignored.
With one exception, of course.
N had forgotten that terrain such as this was where fighting types liked to gather. When you smashed one boulder, one only needed to walk a few feet to find another good one to continue beating up.
So it was that they'd tripped upon Judoh, another friend that had the bad tendency of being overzealous with his greetings.
When he was much younger, N had made the mistake of accepting a brief spar from a Timburr once. He'd quickly learned that just because the pokemon in question was about the same size and shape as him did not mean he could take it in a fight, even if the Timburr was 'going easy on him'.
When Judoh heard of this he took it as an open invitation to spar with N as well. After all, most fighting types always greeted each other with a 'show of hands'.
No sooner did N try to decline the fight as per tradition did he find himself on the ground bent into a pretzel, straining against the hold the Throh had him locked into. Tapping out instantly was bad form according to most fighting types, so he gave it an honest attempt before his surrender was accepted.
Ruzo, the traitor, sat on a rock nearby and laughed. He'd never made the mistake of accepting a spar and therefore didn't have to worry about the stray Mach Punch coming his way.
Sure fighting type pokemon typically knew better than to use actual Moves against squishy humans, but it was the principle of the matter!
N considered it a win that Judoh let him go after 3 seconds, a new record according to the mon. Last time they'd met it took a solid 14 seconds of struggling before the Throh considered the effort acceptable.
This of course had nothing to do with how the teen was older and therefore bigger now.
N took the praise for what it was, as to do otherwise against a Fighting type might incur a repeat performance where he'd be shown what he did wrong in extensive detail. Once pleasantries were exchanged, he limped off back into the forest to lick his metaphorical wounds and to recollect himself.
By now the sun had progressed well and truly into evening, and it was time to consider where to bed down for the night.
After he had some time to catch his breath, of course. At this rate he'd have back pain by the time he was twenty.
They'd found a nice, cozy looking stump. Deciding this was as good a place as any to catch their breath, they'd sat upon the cushion of moss and relaxed.
The feeling of Ruzo's wet nose sniffing against his palm brought him back from his musings. It seems the Zorua found a bit of honey still leftover from their lunch.
N sighed. While he was by now an old hand at surviving in the wild, Aurora had neglected to give them a timetable for this little vacation of theirs. He wasn't averse to finding or simply making his own shelter, but when Father introduced him to a proper bed he couldn't help but feel spoiled every day thereafter.
Sleeping on forest detritus, while comfortable, just didn't compare to a good mattress.
Ruzo picked up on his silent longing. "You knoooooow~," the fox said leadingly. N could feel the old argument start up again. "We could go back to Djinngar's place. He's always happy to have us over, and I bet somebody had to have found a sleeping bag they threw into the loot pile or something."
Pokemon did tend to find the strangest things sometimes. No one knows who really started it, but at some point Djinngar's grove gained a treasure hoard of bits and baubles. It was a cave devoted entirely to just random stuff.
N knew Ruzo was mostly picking at this old argument for argument's sake than any real insistence. The Zorua was crafty enough he never failed to find them a good spot.
The teen decided to engage him nonetheless. It took two to Teeter and all that. "That would be one less spot for any other pokemon that might need it more."
Ruzo butted his head into N's hip in mock protest. "Oh, come on! The place is HUGE! One puny human and a Zorua won't take up that much space. No need to wander around in the dark and mistake a Foongus for an abandoned pokeball."
The teen blushed. "That was one time!"
"And the time after that? And the one after that, and the one after that?"
N decided to change tactics. "You're just being lazy again. Why bother working for something nice when something better is already there, huh?"
"Of course!" Ruzo preened. "Making 'use' of existing resources is what it truly means to be a dark type!"
"Mmm, and I suppose the way Concordia pampers you whenever you give her the Baby-Doll Eyes is classic dark type behavior, huh?"
"Yep!" Ruzo said, leaning further into N's side.
This Zorua, so shameless! N wouldn't have it any other way.
Of course, they were still 'fighting' about this. He leaned back, gingerly laying on his back and spreading his arms across the great stump. "I'm still not going back there when other pokemon could use the shelter more. 'Sides, the sky is clear, the weather is great. Might as well just sleep here on this moss!"
A moment of silence. Then, "...alright."
N's eyebrows rose. Usually they went back and forth for another few minutes before Ruzo pretended to be upset and ran off somewhere to find them a good spot. He gave the Zorua a sidelong glance.
"I'll accept that answer… if you eat some of those leaves you picked up earlier for your back!" He snickered.
N grimaced, knowing that he was verbally pinned there. Ruzo laughed louder at the look on his face. Now that Ruzo bowed out of this game of theirs early, N either had to continue the argument himself, this time as the aggressor. That, or quite literally take his medicine and like it.
Which was a problem, because the leaves tasted awful. Words could not properly convey how bitter they were.
He scrambled for an excuse. "Well, uh, I would! Except… these are for you! If you're gonna keep battling then we need to keep our medicines stocked up!"
To play into the charade even more, he pulled out a leaf and shoved it into Ruzo's face. The Zorua took a hasty step back, back arched in a threat display… aimed at the leaf. "Yeah, well, you're a human! You're much squishier than a pokemon, so you need it more than I do!" He nosed the hand back towards N, conveniently moving the leaves further away from himself.
Pressing the attack, the teen sat up and failed to hide his wince. He tried to play it off. "Yeah, but you get hurt more often because of me, so it's only fair I make the effort to prepare these for you!"
Ruzo growled, the playful aura suddenly gone. N reeled back in surprise, this time unable to stop a quiet gasp at the ache. "If it weren't for humans, we wouldn't need to battle for your sake! And you need to learn how to say NO!"
The teen frowned. This was a little out of character for Ruzo. He got to his feet, turning to where the Zorua sat upon the stump. "...but you were laughing at me when Judoh and I fought, like you always do whenever I find myself in a bit of trouble."
"Yeah, because seeing you all twisted up like that is funny, but you still aching this long afterwards isn't! You aren't built like he is, and he should know better! We both know Fighting types can't think with their heads, they're too busy clanging their empty skulls together!"
His brow creased. This felt like something that's been building up for a while. Perhaps N wasn't the only one feeling the weight of this last month.
N decided he'll accept this loss and added another mental tally to Ruzo's score. Sitting back down, he reached out to hug the Zorua close again. "Alright, alright. You do have a point. Let's avoid Judoh's training area."
Ruzo didn't resist, snuggling into his chest.
There was a moment of silence.
"...and you'll take the medicine!"
"...and I'll take the medicine."
"Good!" Ruzo wriggled around, flipping himself over in N's arms. His ears twitched, expression smug. "Well? I'm waiting."
Welp, it seemed there was no escaping his fate. With a longsuffering sigh that went on a liiiittle longer than it needed to, he palmed a leaf and braced himself. After all, nothing worth doing was ever easy, and five minutes of washing his mouth out afterwards was well worth a good night's rest.
This stump was already pretty cozy. Some more moss and no more aches, and if he squinted, he could pretend this was a mattress.
Just as he was about to down the leaves in a single swift motion, he heard it.
Beneath the forest's sluggish evening chatter, a silent plea stirred, a ghostly, fractured keening that slipped through the voices in the wind. The call pulled at him on a visceral level, like a Blitzle being dragged away in the jaws of an Arcanine that had hungry pups waiting for her at home.
Ruzo's angry squawking blended into the background as he was on his feet and running before he was even consciously aware of it. His world had been reduced to the drumming of his own heavy footfalls carrying him towards the source of whatever was causing this wail.
The trees around him blurred into a kaleidoscope of greens and browns as his vision narrowed, focused only on the sound and the path directly in front of him.
He ran past a great dead oak tree, ignoring the host of Zubats roosting from its branches as he hopped over the exposed mass of gnarled roots, taking care not to step into any divots in the ground lest he twist his ankle.
He ducked under the beginnings of a Galvantua's web, the spider pokemon chittering at him threateningly but otherwise not giving chase.
He ignored the shriek of startled Pidoves that were spooked awake by his loud passage, having only just begun to nod off for the evening.
The air burned cold in his lungs despite the relative warmth of the forest as mud kicked up on every step, such was his sudden fervor.
He only stopped running when he felt a sudden pain in his leg, momentum caught like he'd run into a tripwire. From his new place on the ground, he looked back to see a Leipard with its jaws firmly clamped around his calf, panting with exertion.
"Stahh! Whus gahen inho yoo!?" it got out between breaths.
Realizing he was suddenly out of breath himself, he asked, "Ruzo? I- don't you hear it, t-the mournful wailing? Someone needs help!"
"Weew, eie un heah anyhun!" Taking a moment to gather his breath, Ruzo let go of him, ears flicking this way and that, trying to hear this noise. That the fox-turned-cat had to even try told N everything.
"You can't hear it? I swear, it's unmistakable! It's making my skin crawl! Like-like that time Zinzolin wrote on the chalkboard wrong, or that time you tried to copy Aron's Metal Sound!" His jerked up when it keened again, a muted litany of despair echoing between the branches. "T-there it is again! You sure you can't hear it?"
Ruzo continued his search, but even against the rising and falling of the apparently inaudible cry he showed no signs of noticing. Deciding that trying harder wouldn't suddenly allow him perceive the noise, the cat flipped, once more revealing the zorua beneath. "Are you sure?"
His answer was immediate. "Yes!"
Ruzo nodded, and hopped onto his shoulder. "I trust you. Lead the way."
N righted himself. His back gave its own protest, and after a brief hesitation he shoved the leaf he was still holding into his mouth and chewed. They'd run quite the distance and still felt no closer to this mystery pokemon, for that sound certainly couldn't be coming from a human. He knew he'd need the energy boost if he had to help whatever this sound was originating from.
Damn if he didn't feel like it though, choking the horrible herb down. Still, the leaf invigorated him. Riding off of his energy high, he continued his chase.
It didn't take them much longer to track down the source. Perhaps fifteen minutes and three miles later, the two of them stared down at… something.
By all metrics it appeared to be a puddle of water that couldn't have been more than 2 inches deep, if not for the formless shadow that writhed in the fathomless depths which hurt his eyes to even look into.
Whatever this was clearly shouldn't exist, yet the non-euclidean water cared not for what his feeble human mind couldn't comprehend or what should or shouldn't be possible.
He couldn't even tell what color the water was, which was doubly confusing because it was crystal clear and completely opaque at the same time.
At length one of them finally spoke. "...what is that?" Ruzo muttered. "It's like two Mirror Coats aimed at each other."
N found himself unable to disagree with that assessment. Still, the sound continued, no less distinguishable yet simultaneously no louder despite the much closer proximity. "I... I think it's a ghost? I don't know what other types of pokemon could do… this. A psychic, maybe?" He paced around the pool. "This is definitely where the screaming is coming from, whatever it actually is."
Rozu hopped off his shoulder, leaning closer and turning an ear. "I still don't hear anything. Creepy." He stood as tall as he could for a Zorua, turning this way and that. "Is this some kind of sick prank? Whoever you are, you better stop or I'm gonna give you such a beating!"
Besides a flock of Woobats flying off from their tree nearby, nothing answered them.
N continued his circling, trying to get a better read on this anomaly even as his eyes watered. Once he circled the puddle twice, he decided to experiment. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the puddle, literally testing the waters.
As soon as the rock broached the surface, the formless shadow within recoiled away from the stone, the sound intensifying violently. N's hands went to his ears only to find that covering them made no difference in the volume of the keening.
Ruzo's fur stood on end, but when N looked at the zorua he shook his head. "I still don't hear it, but I can certainly feel it. That has to be a ghost." His tongue lapped at his nose like N saw him do sometimes when trying to dislodge a bad smell. "Ugh, that's…. Ugh." He shook himself in an effort to shake off whatever sensation he was feeling, but when he stopped his fur refused to settle back down.
N couldn't say he was faring much better himself. He felt his own hackles rising and a wave of goosebumps spread across his skin, as well as the faintest hint of a rising nausea.
Though that last one could just be the Petilil leaf.
Still, he ignored his own sensations to focus on the thing in the water, finding that it was still thrashing against whatever bonds that held it. "I think whatever that is, it's stuck in there." After a moment's thought, he rolled up his sleeves.
Ruzo had begun to walk off towards a nearby tree, intent on finding something longer to prod at the puddle with, when he heard the splash. "Hold on, let me find a vine or a branch or- what are you- WAIT STOP!"
Too late. N had already found himself elbow deep in the impossible water, choking back a scream as he reached for the shadow within.
The sensation was indescribable. It was as if his arms had fallen asleep and had then been set on fire and frozen in ice all at the same time, afflicted with every status condition he could think of and then some. He grasped wildly, trying to close the distance that had looked so short a bare moment ago, now so far away.
He flinched when he felt multiple somethings latch onto his arm, long appendages winding up to his elbows and something else stabbing into his hand. Something pointed and red poked out of the water before receding as quickly as it appeared.
Then came the next horrifying realization - he was being pulled in. Locked in his current awkward kneeling potion, he found that no matter how he pulled, he couldn't leverage the weight.
Whatever this was, he lacked the strength to drag it out on his own. His face came within a breath away from the water, and in its distorted surface he could see his own panic.
Then a large shadow joined his reflection as he felt another set of strong arms wrap around him. He spared a glance back to see his Father's own face beside him, Ruzo borrowing Ghetsis' massive body in the hope that the man would lend them some of his strength.
"PULL!"
With their power combined the two of them stopped sinking. Slowly, they began to gain ground, and taking a moment to readjust their footing, they began making headway.
First the pool relinquished his upper arms. The fresh air against his raw skin stung in a way that brought tears to his eyes, but not once did the thought of letting go cross his mind.
Then came his elbows, and with them the earlier red tipped appendages that looked like they might be tentacles reappeared. They wrapped firmly around his flesh, latched on with the might of a Gurdurr hefting their girder.
The more they pulled, the more their mystery 'mon was revealed. Red tipped tentacles turned out to actually be a white mass of prehensile fur from which sprouted a grey colored paw, claws digging deeply into his forearms.
He was faintly aware that he was bleeding, the pain joining the rest of his aches as the puddle dispensed them but failing to dye the waters any which color despite the steady flow.
Once N ran out of skin to reclaim they began their offensive, rising to their collective feet in one last effort. The red tipped mass of white fur was connected to a grey covered torso from under which the arms must have connected via the shoulders, splotched with a myriad of red wounds.
Whatever face this creature possessed was still hidden under all that fur, but now that its head was fully above the water, it began to thrash, pulling against both them and the water as the claws reached further up N's arms, desperate to be free of this mire.
He'd read that trying to save someone that was drowning was just as dangerous for the one sinking as the one trying to save them, but he never thought he'd get to experience that first hand. "Stop! STOP! WE'RE TRYING TO HELP YOU!"
The pokemon either didn't hear him or otherwise ignored his call as it continued to struggle. N shared a glance with Ruzo, the same thought crossing their minds. Together, they planted their feet and prepared for one last mighty heave. Jerking back, they pulled the entire creature from the water in one violent motion.
As they toppled onto their backs, it flew over their heads and landed in a heap behind them, leaving the entire troupe on the ground.
For a horrifying moment, the waters of the puddle seemed to reach out, unwilling to concede defeat, before gravity reasserted itself. The water collapsed back into its greater whole, whatever malevolent intent having possessed the waters vanishing.
Now that he looked again, he could see the sky reflecting off of the surface of the somehow still water. It was as if their struggle never even happened.
Faintly he realized that the pokemon's thrashing had died down. He and Ruzo glanced up at where it lay facedown, finding it completely still as they watched the red color slowly fade from its countenance, retreating to just before the very tips of its extensive mane.
Almost completely white, the pokemon still didn't move. N's heart seized, fearing they might have been too late.
He heaved himself up to his knees, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles and crawling over to their mystery companion.
He reached out and placed a firm hand on where he assumed the shoulder was, intent on giving it a firm shake.
It seemed that contact alone was enough, as no sooner did he lay his hand on the pokemon did it suddenly heave itself up on its forelegs, choking and wheezing. Its whole body shook under the effort, each breath a struggle.
Eventually, after a great effort, the pokemon hacked up a truly alarming volume of… black ink? No, shadow? Whatever it was, it began sizzling as it touched the ground, evaporating quickly.
What was originally probably several gallons of the stuff vanished almost as soon as it appeared, leaving the grass beneath it completely untouched. It was as if the fluid was never there to begin with.
Between the hacking coughs, it repeated one phrase. "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you…"
Every time it seemed to finally catch its breath and get a hang of itself the coughing began anew, more black shadow-stuff falling from its lips. The longer this went on, the more N grew disturbed. He could see the same expression he was doubtlessly wearing mirrored in Ruzo's borrowed face.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute, the creature flopped onto its back, eyes aimed at the sky and seeing nothing. Each intake of air still wheezed concerningly, but aside from a few false starts it seemed to have expelled all of whatever fluid filled its lungs.
He shared another glance with Ruzo. With a silent conversation, the two of them decided to situate themselves as they waited for their third to gather their wits.
They sat there in silence, watching over their downed member. Taking the opportunity to inspect it, they quickly realized that neither of them could recognize what species this pokemon actually was.
Laying stretched out on the ground, it was large for a pokemon but not huge, perhaps nearly as tall as Ghetsis when he stood yet not nearly as bulky. Its lanky limbs still trembled as they lay against the ground, more of what he had initially thought were wounds spread across all four appendages. Closer inspection revealed that these were instead odd patches of red fur, as washed out and faded as the color currently was.
Those legs might not all be legs either, as this was definitely a vaguely humanoid pokemon. Whether this pokemon could walk upright with two legs and two arms or perhaps switch between, all four paws ended in dark grey claws that still dripped with some of N's blood.
Now that the pokemon had rolled over onto its back, he could make its face out from under its prodigious mane of fur. It had a vulpine snout that ended in a nose which blended in with the fur, making it difficult to tell where exactly the nose ended and the face began.
Its head was topped with two large ears that strongly resembled Ruzo's, as well as red slitted pupils that sat against completely yellow sclera. There were markings on its face as well, a red outline topped with a white one outside that.
Glancing at Ruzo, he could tell the man-posing Zorua could see the similarities as well.
A few moments stretched into minutes, a few minutes stretched into five, then five became ten. Their mystery pokemon wasn't getting up. N reached over to the white pokemon and shook it, finding it cool to the touch. "Hey, are you alright?"
Shaking it garnered no response as its head lolled about, yellow gaze staring off into the distance.
"Hey! Speak to me!"
Ruzo reached over and flicked it across the nose, something that never failed to annoy him when N did it. Still no response, just more faint wheezing as some of that black substance trailed out the corner of its mouth.
At a loss, N reached into his pocket for more of the Petilil leaves, pulling out three. If this didn't work, then nothing would. He shoved them into the pokemon's mouth and closed it.
That garnered a reaction.
The pokemon's eyes snapped back into focus as the white fox recoiled from the horribly bitter taste. It spat the leaves out on reflex, breaking into a new fit of coughing as its eyes saw N's face properly for the first time even as it backed away from him. "Augh, pfftt bleh, what was that- who was… who…"
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment as it trailed off. This close, N could not mistake the widening of eyes, the frantic gaze as the pokemon looked him up and down. There was no missing the recognition in this pokemon's stare.
This pokemon knew him.
But how? He'd never met this pokemon before in his life, nevermind having seen whatever species this might be, even if he had a strong suspicion.
The yellow gaze, which he realized glowed faintly in the lengthening shadows of the evening, flicked over to Rozu. This time there was no mistaking the recognition that filled those eyes, the way the pokemon froze, ears folded back.
Recognition, and fear.
He saw the unconscious resolve wash over it as he witnessed the choice between fight or flight be made in real time. Before N could do anything to stop what he knew was coming he found himself unexpectedly shoved behind the white fox as it lunged at Rozu, screaming "YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM!"
The Scratch, for it couldn't have been anything else, was so pitiful N wasn't sure it was an actual Move and not just clawed flailing, whatever fervor possessing the pokemon leaving as quickly as it came.
Rozu had startled at the motion, flipping back and landing on his four legs a few feet away as he relinquished the guise of Father, dodging the attack and ready to hit back with a half charged Night Slash and some choice words.
Then he saw that his would-be opponent had already found itself unable to battle, slumped over on the ground again, staring at him piteously.
The Zorua's expression rapidly switched between indignation, amusement, and finally concern at the blank yellow stare.
"...oh," the white fox said at length, ears drooping and whining faintly. It licked its lips. "I thought… Y-you were, but then where…. Oh."
That one word somehow conveyed more feeling than the entire altercation, brief though it was. N felt bad for this pokemon. It must be seriously ill, to be behaving as erratically as it is.
The boy and his fox shared a look.
Just who is this pokemon?
N took a deep breath, pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions roaring within him, deciding that whatever that was about could wait until later. Right now, there was a badly hurt pokemon that needed his help. His own worries could wait.
He moved slowly so as to not set this pokemon off again, kneeling before it. He offered his hand. "Here, let me help you up."
Everything ached.
His body, his bones, his very spirit throbbed with a distant agony.
His limbs trembled, the result of his earlier attempt at an attack draining what precious little energy he had to begin with. The exhaustion radiated from deep within, dampening his senses, paradoxically offset by just how much more he seemed to be feeling now that he was free from the sensory deprivation of the void.
Each wheezing breath he took through his mouth carried scents and even flavors, now able to taste the very air he sucked in, muted through the new sensation was.
His ears heard the rustling of leaves, the flapping of numerous wings and the chatter of all kinds of creatures he could not recognize with an acuity he did not remember having, if muffled by a ceaseless ringing that would not go away.
His eyes saw much better in the late evening, shadows not as deep as they should be in the dying of the light.
Even as his eyes watered and his senses shifted between dull and sharp, though, the face of the green haired teen whose outstretched arm dripped with blood was one he did not fail to recognize.
Looking up at the unmistakable face of Natural Harmonia Gropius, Silas's thoughts looped in a vicious cycle of disbelief and denial.
This is happening. This is something that's really happening right now. But… but this can't be real! This can't be happening. This can't be happening, so why is it happening!?
The roaring in his head grew louder and louder with every passing moment, struggling to find a way to justify the fantastical situation he now found himself in. Was this a dream? A hallucination brought about by a poor reaction to a new treatment?
A smaller voice drowned out by the cacophony whispered that this was too realistic, the sensations too great to be false. This couldn't be an illusion, a lie to trick oneself.
Desperate to avoid the greater existential crisis threatening to consume him, Silas focused his attention on the patient hand held out before him, steady and unwavering.
The hand that was bruised and bleeding, discoloration growing worse the longer he looked. The memories of a desperate struggle slowly returned to him, and he cringed back from the results of his own actions, ears drooping. "I… hurt you! Why would you want to help me? You don't even know who I am! Don't you hate humans!?"
Shit. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that!
He struggled to calm himself before he did something else stupid, taking a deep breath only to burst out into another fit of coughing.
N looked down at his arms with faint surprise, seemingly forgetting he was even wounded. Ugly bruises twisted up his arms in long strips, coupled with six long gouges that sluggishly bled, clots already forming.
Had he done that? Had Silas inflicted these wounds, this injury that would doubtlessly scar and remain for the rest of the teen's life, a permanent reminder of this encounter that he was still unsure may or may not even be real?
He coughed again, expelling more black fluid, then snarled, slamming a fist against the grass. Not even in his wildest fantasies could he find relief from this god damned cough!
N expression shifted away from surprise, brow set in determination. The green haired teen was more concerned with the creature before him than his own wellbeing, it seemed. "True, I may not know you, but I do not blame you for your actions. I heard your voice. You were suffering, and needed help. If not me, then who?"
Then his determination bled into confusion. "Besides, what do my thoughts on humans have to do with anything? I'm the only one here." His brows furrowed. "...unless you mean to say someone did this to you?"
Silas did not hear the rest of his question.
Only one here? Only one here?
His stomach roiled as he felt the phantom sensation of a vice clamp down around it, dread sinking into his very core.
What did N mean by only human here?
Fearing what he might find but unable to shy away, Silas hauled himself up to his hands and knees, ignoring the unlikely pair before him even over their protests. Half his vision was blocked off by what felt like a curtain of hair, a ridiculous notion. He'd always kept his hair cut short after that time he tried growing it out in high school, eventually finding the level of effort it required to even look good was not one he was willing to bother with.
Yet as he raised himself up, he found that he indeed possessed a great white mane of hair trailing from his head, framing his vision like a red tipped curtain, faded though the color was.
From his one uncovered eye, he beheld his hands.
His hands, his hands… Where were his hands?
His dreams were always nonsensical, but in the many ridiculous forms they took, one thing always remained consistent. Whether he was able to phase through walls, float, fling fire, whatever, for some strange reason his subconscious mind had only ever been able to comprehend these things through a human guise.
Even flying worked best when he flapped his clumsy human arms and pretended to be a bird.
Here, in what was becoming increasingly apparent was the waking world, he found no human hands from which connected ten fingers, instead finding six dark claws attached to light grey paws. He sat up and turned his appendages this way and that, finding that no matter how deeply he inspected them these alien arms would not go away.
No. No no no no no…!
He only faintly registered the wet nose he felt sniffing at his backward knees, unable to spare any attention from inspecting his body.
He ignored the concerned shouts as he staggered up to his feet and managed not to fall back onto his face when the world swayed dangerously, staggering back over to the puddle. He kneeled down and peered into the waters, brushing aside the curtain of hair that refused to stay out of his face.
A ghastly visage awaited him as he met the yellow gaze of a mottled white humanoid fox. Its posture screamed weariness as it slumped where it sat. Multiple points across its body were lightly dusted with a shade of red, faded like blood poorly washed from a white shirt and leaving behind a faint stain.
He turned this way and that, the specter in the mirror copying each motion without fail. He saw the large ears, the long snout, he even opened his mouth and saw the motion repeated, revealing a row of pointed, predatory teeth.
The longer this went on, the more he knew deep down that this truly was him, human body gone and replaced with this, this pokemon!
"No, no no no no no!" he repeated.
His vision narrowed as his breathing came quicker. Even as he coughed, he turned away from the puddle, refusing to accept the truth before him.
He'd once read that there were multiple things humans generally could not do in their dreams. The mirror test was a failure, but there were other methods he could use.
He clamped his han- paws, his paws over his nose and mouth and tried his hardest to inhale, finding that physics reigned supreme as he failed to draw breath through his palms.
Snarling, he clawed at the dirt, fighting against the grey tint that crept up on the edges of his vision. A, B, C, D… By the time he'd reached H and was still able to clearly recognize each letter for what it was, he knew this was a bust as well.
Switching gears, he scrawled down simple math problems. Fifteen times seven was one hundred and five, eleven times twenty two was two hundred forty two…
This wasn't working!
"Hey! Hey, can you hear me?"
"Calm down, we want to help!"
He did not want to accept the truth, terrified of what he knew it would mean. In a last ditch attempt to wake himself up from this increasingly unlikely dream, he spread his claws and dug them into his own flesh.
White hot agony surged up his thigh as the razor sharp nails dug into it, staggering him in a way he'd never felt before. Blood oozed from the wound as his breath left him, a pitiful wheeze drawing out into a pained whine.
"Holy shit!"
"What are you doing!? Stop, please!"
Even as firm hands grasped his shoulders and whirled him around, pulling his own claws away from where he'd turned them upon himself, he knew he could no longer deny it.
I died.
The cough that started as what he'd thought to be just another cold. The way it lingered long beyond what a simple seasonal sickness should last.
The doctor's visits, the way they failed to diagnose it properly the first time.
The way it kept coming back.
Years spent slowly but steadily declining as nothing seemed to work.
The illness, the treatments, the hospital. Months spent in bed as his body grew weaker and weaker, each breath no longer granting him the same strength it used to.
The suffocating darkness as one day he must have fallen into a sleep he never woke from.
The void, that horrible place that must have come… after.
He had lost the battle, succumbing to his illness and passing on after drowning on dry land.
He had died and was now a world away from home, reborn as a pokemon.
N continued to hold his paws awkwardly, ready to stop this strange new pokemon from harming itself again but otherwise at a loss on what to do next. He swallowed, speaking up. "Hey, are you alright?"
Was he alright? What kind of stupid question was that. Looking up at the boy before him, he answered honestly. There was no one left to put on a strong face for, after all, no one to pretend that the truth of the matter was not as dire as it really was. "A-alright?" he asked, feeling the tears spill over. "No. No, I h-haven't been alright in a long time."
The tears came faster, his breath hitched. He curled in on himself, trying and failing to regain control of his emotions.
The green haired teen shared a glance with the zorua still standing off to the side, an unsure expression passing between them. Slowly, he let go and wrapped his arms around the pokemon, bringing the white fox close in a tight embrace.
Silas stiffened, surprised by the contact. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him. To be comforted by this complete stranger, someone he only knew of as a pile of pixels following strings of code in a video game… it was simply too much.
Something deep inside cracked. No longer able to smother his emotions, the bottled resentment, fear, and sorrow welled up, a floodgate opening as everything spilled forth.
It started slowly, sniffles developing into great heaving sobs. Silas' entire body shook under the force of his emotions. Grey arms wrapped around N's body, returning the embrace with the desperate fervor of a man lost at sea grasping for the thrown life ring.
N winced under the crushing embrace but kept his silence, merely maintaining his hug as Silas cried his heart out.
He didn't know how long he spent in that sorry state, but eventually his sorrow abated and he pulled himself together. Once he felt he was reasonably steady enough, he extracted himself from their impromptu embrace.
He missed the exasperated stare the Zorua gave the boy as N surreptitiously rubbed at his back.
"Sorry you had to see that," he sniffed, a paw sweeping the stubborn hair that swung back in front of his face.
N merely smiled. "It's no trouble at all. Helping those in need is simply common sense. I think anyone else in my place would have helped you."
Silas turned back to face the pair of them, eyebrow raised. He doubted that, seeing as no other pokemon had interrupted their little scene. Even the Zorua stood off a bit to the side, shadowing N.
"Allow me to introduce ourselves," the teen continued. "I'm N, and this is my best friend Ruzo." He gestured at the now named Zorua, allowing the pokemon to hop into his lap. "Are you feeling better now?"
Silas gave the question some thought, not immediately brushing off the concern like he might have once upon a time. He looked away sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.
Was blushing something he could still do?
"Yeah," he said, voice hoarse. "Thank you. And, uh, sorry again. For making a mess of your shirt, if nothing else."
"It's no trouble." N said, keeping his voice level. He reached down for the odd scattered leaves that had gone forgotten, finding them and wiping them clean of any debris. "Are you hurt? Anywhere specific, I mean."
"Besides your leg," Ruzo interjected. "Why'd you do that anyway?"
Silas ignored the second question. How do you explain that you thought reality was a dream and mutilating yourself was the only way out?
Like it was waiting for just the right moment to make itself known, the pain in his thigh returned, reminding him that yes, he was still bleeding. He suppressed a wince.
Other than that though, was he hurt? He ached, but in an abstract way. His body trembled, shaking subsiding slightly but still very much present. There was a weight to his breath and a rattle that was painfully familiar. To top it all off, he was exhausted in a way that transcended the physical, emotionally drained from his earlier outburst.
That said, there were no other stabbing pains, the ringing in his ears had faded, and the impending sense of doom was gone. His vision was mostly clear and he could definitely feel his fingers now. He was a little warm, but he chalked that up to the muggy weather more than anything else.
Nothing suggested any deeper, more immediate worries.
"...No, I… I don't think so?" The cough was definitely something that needed to be looked at, but he rather doubted anything besides an actual hospital would help there.
Or, well, pokecenter.
He wasn't looking forward to that experience, returning to a hospital so soon after being… discharged.
He shuddered.
N watched him carefully, frowning at the uncertainty of the statement but accepting his words at face value. That, or unwilling to call him a liar to his face.
Ruzo was less reserved. "I bet if I hit you with a Tackle you'd faint on the spot. What even are you anyway?"
Silas couldn't help the snicker. Yeah, 30 pounds of fox bashing him in the face probably would put him out on his ass.
"Ruzo!" the teen admonished. After a moment, he continued. "I can't say I'm not also curious, though. I've never seen a pokemon like you before. Tell me, are you a boy or a girl?"
A sharp bark of hysterical laughter escaped his lips before he could stop himself. No way was this actually happening. "Male," he said, "Definitely male."
"Alright. What's your name, and what pokemon are you?"
This was actually happening right now. "My name's Silas. I'm a Zoroark."
This seemed to surprise Ruzo more than N. "You're a Zoroark? But you look nothing like those pictures! You're all droopy, not spiky" the Zorua said. He growled. "Did those damn sages give us bad books? I'm gonna put sand in Gorm's stupid burnt dirt water, that'll teach him! Let him know what real mud tastes like!"
What? Caught off key from that bizarre remark, Silas muttered, "uh, I'm a regional form. From Husui- er, Sinnoh? The Sinnoh region."
Before N could stop him, Ruzo leapt up, diving into Silas' mane of fur. "Oh yeah?" he asked, ignoring the larger pokemon's protests. "Then what type are you? You smell funny!"
The wriggling feet climbing up and down his back and scampering on his head forced a giggle out of him, tickling him like his old cats used to whenever they'd walk around on his back or belly. He flailed, trying to get the Zorua off. "G-get out! Get off- hehe- get off of me and I'll tell you!"
"Hmpf!" Ruzo lept out of his mane and landed next to N, landing on two feet instead of four as Silas beheld himself again, this time in three dimensions. "Whoah!" He wobbled a bit, righting himself after a moment. "This feels weird."
Silas scratched his cheek, trying to ignore the residual sensation of little paws scampering all over him. "I'm a Normal-Ghost type, I think."
"You… think?" N questioned. "I've never heard of a pokemon that didn't know what type they were." His expression pinched, something in his gaze that Silas didn't like.
"Yeah, prove it!" Ruzo crowed, getting face to- er, snout to snout? With Silas.
He leaned away from the clearly curious fox, trying to come up with some excuse that would satisfy the two of them, especially since he didn't really know himself. Hisuian Zoroarks were ghosts, but in his current state of… whatever was wrong with him, nothing felt particularly ghostly.
The teen was right, what kind of pokemon didn't know how to pokemon?
Something told him that outright telling the two he was a human reborn was a bad idea. Sure there was precedent with the Yamask line – at least according to the pokedex entries – but wasn't the whole goal of Team Plasma the complete separation of man and 'mon?
If N knew the creature he was speaking to wasn't really a pokemon, would this kindness vanish? The kid's character was fickle, fairly different in each continuity.
Which N was he dealing with here?
A restless fluttering grew in his stomach, another old companion never thought fondly of. "I'm a ghost, I swear! I just, well, I don't feel particularly… spooky right now." He looked back at his newfound paws, then up at his completely limp mane of hair. That was supposed to writhe with energy, wasn't it? He was also pretty sure the red was supposed to be a lot more… more.
Shadow Claw was also learned upon evolution for his… species, if he remembered correctly. That has to be the closest thing to an instinctual move for pokemon, yet his earlier attack had nothing special to it.
This was really going to take some getting used to.
"You looked pretty spooky when we pulled you from that puddle," Ruzo said. He leapt into the air with a flash of light and landed on N's shoulder, once again back in his normal form.
Silas' face twisted into a sardonic grin. Yeah, that probably did look pretty horrific from the outside, even if nothing could compare to what it was like inside.
He sighed, only to trail off when the stuffy feeling in his chest reared its head again. In lieu of answering, he turned away and coughed as hard as he could, the familiar sensation of phlegm being ejected from his lungs only to once again see the same dark liquid cross his lips and splatter on the ground. It sizzled and vanished soon enough.
At least he knew that whatever this was it couldn't possibly be what had originally killed him. Was that shadow? Was he sick with something specific to ghost types? The games barely touched on the topic of illnesses beyond Pokerus and random pokemon that conspicuously fell ill on top of high towers.
While the anime and manga explored it a bit more, it was never more than the same vein soap operas tended to go, anywhere from simple colds to 'incurable coughs of doom'.
He really hoped it wasn't that last one. Going on that ride once was fun enough. A second all expense trip straight to the void was not something he wanted to repeat.
He shuddered. The void. That had to be some form of purgatory. He liked to think of himself as a fairly average person, living a life that was neither overly good nor evil. Whatever that was, there was no possible way that was supposed to be 'the good place.'
That or the afterlife was a lie and the eternal nothingness after death theory was the right one.
N must have followed his earlier train of thought. "Are you sick? I didn't even know ghost types could get sick." He presented the leaves he picked up earlier, strange things that resembled large bay leaves. "Here, eat these. It's medicine that should help restore your energy."
"Ugh. Are you sure? If he isn't a ghost now, that taste will certainly turn him into one. Without the Normal!"
Silas barked out another laugh before he could stop himself, even as N scolded Ruzo again for the insensitive remark. As the boy admonished the Zorua, Silas and Ruzo locked eyes.
The smaller fox gave him a Cheshire grin, head cocked and one ear twitching, tail swishing in satisfaction.
That cheeky little bastard, he's playing up the gallows humor after Silas had already proven to find it funny!
That realization brought him pause.
…Huh. Yeah, he was a lot calmer now. His thoughts were no longer racing and the lead weight in his stomach was not nearly as heavy.
He interrupted their little squabble by grabbing those herbs and popping them into his mouth in one swift motion, grimacing. This was likely one of those natural healing items, the ones that had friendship reduction tied to them.
He was already long acquainted with horrid tasting medications, so he chewed quickly and swallowed, trying his best to minimize contact with his now larger tongue.
He managed to get the herbs down easily enough, knowing that it was the aftertaste that hit the worst. Even still, he was unprepared for how horrid the bitter flavor was when it finally hit him.
The closest analog he could think of was that time he'd gotten a root canal and the dentist overestimated how much anesthetic he'd needed in the syringe. The fluid had overflowed from the injection site and splashed onto his tongue, assaulting his taste buds with an unholy chemical tang that burned as it numbed. It was made worse by the fact that he couldn't swallow the stuff, so it had to sit there for a while as the dentist had to switch to the hose that sucked up liquid.
These herbs were twice as bad as that.
Every strand of hair on his new body stood on end, from crown to claws, and he reflexively hacked, struggling to keep his gag reflex in check. He managed to keep the herbs down despite more black fluid spewing forth as the taste clung to the back of his throat, flavoring every breath.
Ruzo burst into hysterical laughter as Silas struggled against his rising gorge. Even N couldn't suppress his own mirth, a small grin on his own face.
"Augh, pfft bleugh." He spat a few times in an attempt to get out the remaining dregs of flavor, only just stopping himself from physically wiping down his tongue. "What were those?"
"Petilil leaves," N said. "A natural remedy, one they give freely if you ask nicely." The teen wasn't above idle mischief, it seemed, as he clearly reached into his pocket and withdrew an unnecessarily large handful more. "Do you need another dose?"
He backed away, recoiling from the leaves like a demon might from a holy symbol. "No, god no! I, I think I'm feeling much better already!"
This wasn't strictly a lie, per say, as he did suddenly feel invigorated, the same way one might after taking a five-hour energy in the second half of a double shift with only four hours of sleep the night prior. The shaking in his limbs stopped, but the underlying exhaustion was still there, if muted.
Of course, that's when the head rush from the sudden movement hit him, something that shouldn't even be possible if he was really a ghost.
If N hadn't rushed forward to catch him he very well would have fallen flat on his face. Snout. Whatever.
As N fussed over him, a sly voice spoke over the boy "You knoooow…" Ruzo called out. "There's a safe location nearby he can rest at, with plenty of food and someone that might know what's wrong with him. Djinngar's old, he's gotta know what this is."
Silas watched as N puffed up, ready to offer a rebuttal-
Only to deflate. "You sneaky little jerk," N muttered, a faint upturn on the corner of his lips. "The herbs and the grove?" He stood, hefting one of Silas' arms over his shoulder. "Still, you're right. It's not too far a walk from here. If we hurry, we should make it a little after… sundown, I think." He adjusted his grip on the Zoroark's arm, pulling Silas' elbow fully past his own neck and grasping the dangling forearm, wrapping his other arm around the pokemon's own shoulder. "Think you can make it if I help you?"
Silas leaned away as much as their position allowed, unused to close contact. He tried to free himself from the boy's grasp, but N held firm, refusing to let go. "I.. Well, you're doing most of the heavy lifting here. I think I will make it, though I think I can walk on my own just fine?"
"Absolutely not."
"Yeah, I've seen Basculin walk with more balance than you, and those are actual fish," Ruzo added.
With that, the boy set off, all but dragging Silas along. For a teen carrying something larger and likely heavier than him, he sure set a good pace.
Something deep inside clenched, the worry making itself known again. He couldn't stop from blurting, "H-hey! Don't I get a say in this? Just because you're helping me doesn't mean I'll become your pokemon!"
N paused mid step, side eyeing him from their march. "Of course not. You're your own pokemon, just like all others. I don't own anyone."
"If anything, he's my human," Ruzo said.
N kicked up dirt at the Zorua half heartedly, Ruzo dodging with a mock glare.
The teen turned back to Silas. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help, I promise. If… you really want to leave, we won't stop you, but I don't think anyone else can help you as well as we can."
Silas stared into that green gaze, searching his best for any duplicity and finding none.
Truthfully he didn't know why he was so nervous, as regardless of whichever medium N was in, his respect and love for pokemon was the one thing that never changed.
Still, as he looked into those patient green eyes, something passed between the two of them, a silent conversation during which neither of them said anything yet conveyed everything.
Even if he was calmer now, Silas was still lost and afraid, cut loose in this great new world he found himself in. This wasn't a video game, and the teen before him really did have no ulterior motives.
Besides, N wasn't the true villain of the story. In the grand scheme of things, wasn't he a victim too?
Silas broke off their staring contest with a ragged sigh, sagging against the teen's smaller form. "I… I trust you. Lead the way."
N smiled brilliantly, and with a determined nod, he set off once again. Ruzo took the lead, humming something. Silas could almost feel the smug satisfaction from here.
So it was that Silas took the first step of the new journey before him, lost but not alone.