》Welcome, stranger, under the sun.There are shadows everywhere,but not all of them are out to get you.Believe in hope at the end of a long road.Believe you deserve this kindness.《

  Zoroark’s fur gave him warmth, while the sky wallowed in blinding orange and the cold only ate away at his fingertips. Zekrom’s speed had already left Unova far behind. When he looked over his shoulder, there was no nd in sight. But ahead of him, between small isnds, rose mountains and green expanses. All was right with the world in front of him.

  “I’m going to nd near a town,” the dragon began out of nowhere. “To rest.”

  Natural’s swallow lingered in his throat, dry as dust. His stomach ached and his body burned with every movement. The wounds shrieked as if someone had driven nails into his flesh. Some breaths seemed to smash fists against his back, and whenever he closed his eyes, the sound of gunfire haunted him.

  Even in those seconds, when he briefly lowered his eyelids to collect his thoughts, the memory of the gun, of Ghetsis, of Liepard and its blood overwhelmed him.

  As Zekrom wavered, he opened his eyes again, unable to recognise his surroundings. The sky was suddenly far above him, and green expanses stretched across uneven nd – meadows crunching under the dragon’s heavy feet and seeming only half as impressive up close.

  The slowly settling autumn was probably leaving its mark in every region, and although the sun tickled his nose, the cold tugged at him as he slid off Zekrom’s back. Then, without further ado, the dragon disappeared into its ball while Zoroark let out a snort.

  “You manage the way?”

  The first town in the region seemed five minutes away. A simple walk along a narrow path he only had to follow to get among humans. So he nodded.

  “Then let me into my ball. If I walk beside you, there’s a good chance that people will be watching, and we don’t know how far Ghetsis’ influence reaches. Even if I use an illusion ... it’s better to keep a low profile. We both know it's hard for me to not prank someone...” He pulled his nose back briefly. “Try going to a Pokémon Center to warm up and get medical treatment.”

  His head was far too empty to do anything but nod speechlessly and follow Zoroark’s wishes. Sluggish movements stowed the Poké Balls in his trouser pocket, and as he set off, his stomach growled lonesomely towards nothingness.

  Every step tugged at his bones, ate through his senses, and clouded every clear thought. Not even when he heard people in the immediate vicinity did he pause. His eyes travelled over signs, unable to read any of them. Icy draughts stiffened his fingers, breathing rasped in his throat, and whenever he tried to swallow, he tasted blood.

  It was only when moist heat made itself felt on his upper lip and Natural ran the back of his hand over his mouth that he stopped. Deep red stuck to his skin. Smudged, thick. He pulled his nose back, staggered on, bumped his shoulder into someone else, and trembled at the contact. But he didn’t stop. No one spoke to him. No one turned around to look at him; until one of his knees gave way.

  He hit the ground, his breath heavy on his lips. Heat burned on his cheeks while weakness ate away at his muscles, and blood dripped to the ground. His vision blurred, moulding itself into an unsteady mosaic – just for the blink of an eye.

  “Hey, you all right?”

  Out of nowhere, a hand pced itself on Natural’s shoulder. Unfamiliar heat coursed through his body, giving him just enough strength to lift his head and look into golden eyes. White hair curled sporadically, stood on end, or resisted the estic band that held part of it in pce. A bit like his own.

  “Where is this ... here?” Natural barely recognised his own voice as he squeezed out a few blunt words.

  “Where..? Hey, hey... Are you sure everything’s all right?” His counterpart leant further towards him. Tanned skin promised a summer that Natural couldn’t seize, and when he countered the question with silence for too long, a sigh escaped the stranger. “Levincia. Paldea.”

  Paldea. That was somewhere far away from Unova, from Ghetsis, from Psma, and the dead Liepard.

  “Do you need help?” the stranger asked again. “My friends and I docked nearby. You could rest and-”

  Natural tuned him out for a second. Those eyes, this hair. Unlike his father. And yet, as the man’s grip on his shoulder tightened, the images in Natural’s head overpped. Ghetsis’ punches ripped through him, unintelligible words came at him, and within a moment he was ramming the ft of his hands against his father’s chest. He pushed him away, trying to get up and run, but his legs wouldn’t move, and the image cleared.

  His arms trembled as he recognised the stranger. He was sitting on his bum, his khaki-coloured trousers now probably saturated with cold.

  Opening his mouth, Natural forced himself to say a curt “Sorry”. More seemed impossible. More sounded to his ears like an excuse that had long since been beaten out of him.

  “No problem.”

  Contrary to Natural’s expectations, the stranger waved it off before pulling himself back to his feet and brushing off his trousers. Then he held out his hand, and, for the blink of an eye, Natural stared in disbelief. This stranger was offering help. Just like that, even though he had pushed him away like a criminal.

  “You coming?” Raising his brows, the man smiled at him – blindingly simir to the sun. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but your nose is bleeding and ... man ... you look done. Besides ... your clothes aren’t made for an autumn walk. The Pokémon Center is crowded, and most of the hotels are closed.”

  His words seemed credible. In such cold weather, only those who had important errands to run would be outside. Business and tasks, after which they would settle down in a room with a warm drink to watch the autumn through the window.

  So Natural took the stranger’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He was overcome by wavering uncertainty, which pulled at his muscles and robbed him of his bance, causing him to bump into the stranger. Strong arms held him upright.

  “You all right?”

  A snivelling sound of agreement escaped his throat, so the man at his side wrapped an arm around him and supported him as he walked. Simultaneously, Natural snuggled into the warmth emanating from another’s body almost automatically. It seemed to protect him from freezing but encouraged fatigue. His feet shuffled across the ground, and the rubbing sound crushed his mind.

  Looking down, he surveyed the grey path and the white clouds he exhaled. At one point, he even looked at wood, and, as warmth washed over his whole body, he lifted his head. The world around him no longer seemed cold and grey. Surrounded by warm orange tiles, suffused with white paint, Natural recognised a shower, towels, and a fluffy-looking mat in front of a narrow bathtub.

  “You should warm yourself up,” the stranger began as he let go of him and carefully pced him on a undry box. “I’ll get you some clothes in the meantime. You’ll be alright?”

  Natural nodded instead of answering, and as the nameless man gave him a thumbs up and disappeared, he found no desire to get up. Instead, he reached for a ball in his trouser pocket and summoned Zoroark to his aid.

  Big ears wiggled briefly while his partner’s nose trembled. Then Zoroark let out a snort. “You seem to be lucky. The people here are friendly.”

  “I should take a shower. To warm up.”

  “With your injuries ... too painful,” the Pokémon replied. “But I can wash your hair and dab you with water if that helps.”

  In the past, he had often let Pokémon help him in the bathroom. Back when he had been a little boy and couldn’t manage his tangled hair. Now it seemed reprehensible. He was no longer a jungle child. Pokémon shouldn’t have to help him just because he was weak and exhausted. But Zoroark shared none of these concerns.

  His partner didn’t wait for approval. Deft paws wriggled Natural out of his cmmy clothes, ridding him of the damp feeling of the outside world and sweeping away some of the chill. Then he propped him up to the bathtub, where Natural settled down and pulled his legs close to his torso, resting his head against his knees. He didn’t want to have to think any longer; and for a moment, he disconnected.

  Wetness nestled against his scalp. His body throbbed. Sometimes the pain overwhelmed him and he coughed until the tears stung his lower lids. The scent of berries spread through the neighbourhood, and somewhere in between, the door opened.

  “I’ll ... put the things here.” Briefly, the stranger poked his head through the door. Zoroark’s body seemed so broad in those seconds that Natural had to look around his partner to nod listlessly. “I’ll wait outside in case there’s anything.”

  He closed the doorway in the same blink, and Natural’s head slumped back to his knees – until Zoroark forced him to his feet and dried him carefully. A short time ter, he was sitting on the box again while the sound of a hairdryer buzzed in his ears and he slipped into clothes that weren’t his.

  The uniform noise and Zoroark’s gentle touch soothed him. All tension disappeared. And when Natural faced the bckness behind his eyelids, it didn’t seem to consume him at all. No surprises. No memories. Only darkness.

  》 HARMONIA《

  He opened his eyes as if an explosion had gone off within reach. His body sat up with a jerk, and as a pained gasp escaped his lips, warm hands gripped his shoulders and supported him briefly. Then a pillow was pced behind his back.

  It took two slow blinks before Natural’s surroundings cleared and he realised the sofa beneath and the stranger in front of him. Zoroark was curled up at the foot of the seating area.

  As the nameless man dropped back into his chair, a sigh escaped him. “Man, I thought I was going to have to unleash Mollie on you.”

  He had no clue who Mollie was but avoided making a questioning sound.

  “Your buddy here carried you out of the bathroom,” he nodded briefly to Zoroark, “and as soon as I made room for you on the sofa, you could barely keep still. Nightmare?”

  “No...” The darkness had been peaceful. It had given him rest and turned the throbbing in his body into hot waves that washed over his skin with every breath. “Thank you...”

  “No problem,” the stranger dismissed. “You should help each other where you can. Do you want to go somewhere? If it’s on the way, we’ll be happy to drop you off there. Or maybe you need help elsewhere?”

  Natural shook his head hastily. “I can manage.”

  The world was a big pce. There were endless pces to explore, and therefore, no fixed destination. He had promised Domino he would get to know the world and its Pokémon, but finding a pce to start seemed impossible in a dimension that was completely unknown to him. His overconfidence had got the better of him.

  “Do you even know where the journey is going?” The stranger’s brows drew together.

  Natural shook his head almost unnoticed. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t find an excuse in his woolly thoughts that sounded logical. He wanted to get away from Ghetsis and Team Psma, but he didn’t want to have to talk about it. His parched throat warned him not to say too much. Perhaps because every word harboured danger. If he started talking now about anything, he’d come back to his father. To Liepard. To the whip, the pain, the tears, the words, the fear, the blood – to everything. And maybe, just maybe, he would open his mouth and never be able to stop screaming.

  “All right!” Instead of asking further questions, the guy swung out of his chair. “I think we’ve all been travelling without a destination before.” He patted his chest with one hand. “If you want, you can travel with us until you find your way.”

  Just like that, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Like the day Ghetsis adopted him. The boy from the forest.

  Just like that.

  “By the way,” the stranger pointed his thumb casually at himself, “I’m Friede. If you need anything, I’m your man!”

  He ughed, and it took a moment for Natural to fully absorb the image in front of him. This guy there was simir to his father in some ways, but then again, he had a thousand things that made him different. A bit like Domino, whose kindness had pleaded for his own will.

  And for a moment, this world, outside of Pokémon, became inviting enough to accept Friede’s offer.

  As a result, Natural found himself sitting at a rge table with others a short time ter. The people on this ship were a colourful bunch, each with a task or a goal. There was Orio, the mechanic, with a beautiful smile. Mollie, the doctor, ready to help any Pokémon or human in need. The children Liko, Roy, and Dot, the tter only wandering around the table via Rotom’s voice output. The chef, Murdock, with a thunderous ugh. An old man who always stayed outside with his fishing rod, and an old dy called Diana, whose raspy voice travelled cheerfully around the room.

  In the middle of all this, Pokémon were buzzing around. Food was being handed out, conversations were happening at every corner. Even Zoroark took the opportunity to join the others. Only Natural remained behind – trapped like a lonely Minccino, surrounded by a thousand others of its kind who gave it no room to fit in.

  Still, he survived the dinner with few words. They contented themselves with his name, his origins, and his desire to travel around the world. Nobody demanded too much. No one put him in the spotlight. Not like the members of Psma, who had always worshipped him for no reason. Here he was just one of many. Liberatingly unimportant and crushingly out of pce.

  It was only when Friede led him to a room he could call his own that the tension slowly slipped away. The heavy iron door reminded him of his childhood bedroom, and yet the interior was drastically different from the images of his past.

  Alone with Zoroark within these four walls, the world turned a little slower. The heat on his skin cooled constantly, only to heat up again, and his blood boiled with every movement. Everything inside him was bouring, so he let himself fall onto the bed, felt the soft sheets under his fingers, and buried his face in his hands immediately afterward.

  “Are you all right?” Zoroark’s concern reached him only faintly.

  “I’m just tired,” he replied. “It’s very different here.”

  “Different from Team Psma?”

  “And also different from the forest or the vast meadows under an open sky.”

  “There are no toys here.” A snort from Zoroark filled the room. “No worn carpet, no bed that was already too small for you at thirteen, no toy railway, no tiny field to py ball on, no box full of stuffed animals and building blocks... All that is behind you.”

  Natural slowly released his face from his hands. He had never let himself down like this before. But suddenly, all alone, without a home and a task, there was no longer any reason to pretend he could handle all the thoughts and all the vague feelings on his own. In those breaths, he relied on Zoroark.

  “The st time I slept in a bed was ... seven years ago,” he began thoughtfully. “Shortly after I turned fourteen.” His hand rested on the sheets. “It’s ... different here.”

  On the floor; half curled up, Zoroark’s tail lifted. “No one says you have to get used to everything in one day.”

  He probably didn’t have to, and even though the bed looked cosy, Natural pushed himself off the mattress and joined Zoroark on the floor. Snuggled up close to his Pokémon, there was warmth, peace, and the familiar smell of moss and meadow. A scent he remembered from his childhood, when he had fallen asleep among the other Pokémon.

  And again, in these breaths, sleep seemed to take him easily. The restlessness inside him subsided, and the flight reflex disappeared. Only exhaustion remained to guide him through the dark world behind his eyelids.

  》HARMONIA《

  Sweat covered his hands. Cake crumbs still clung to the corners of his mouth, and while Ghetsis looked down at him as if he were a rowdy Zorua, his two stepsiblings kept their heads bowed. Father had beaten them both as a reminder that lying was why the world suffered.

  “Harmonia, I told you the desserts were for our guests, not for you and the Pokémon.” The walking stick was firmly in his hands. He didn’t always carry it with him, but on some days when one of his legs hurt, this piece of wood accompanied him. “What were you thinking?”

  Natural lowered his eyes briefly. Heat burned in his cheeks, and he barely suppressed the attempt to lick his lips to taste the st bit of icing.

  “They looked so delicious,” he replied slowly. “And I wanted so much to share them with my friends.”

  “Would you like some more for your friends?”

  Natural immediately raised his eyes. For a moment, the shame faded. His father was prepared to accept the offence and let him off with a simple reprimand.

  “There’s something else here. Hold out your hands.” Ghetsis casually bent over the cupboard to his side and grabbed a muffin. Natural, meanwhile, held out his hands.

  In the next breath, the muffin hit him in the face.

  Overwhelmed by the sudden action, he moved too slowly. In the next blink, glistening pain shot through his fingers, and Ghetsis’ walking stick thundered to the ground. A scream escaped Natural’s lips as he pulled his hands back and noticed his fiery red fingers. The wood had run across his palms. But a single blow wasn’t enough, so Ghetsis grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up onto his toes. As he did, he bent down to Natural. Sweet breath settled on the boy’s cheeks.

  “I remember teaching you that restraint is not compatible with gluttony. Not only that, but I can’t help but wonder what you were thinking when you shared the desserts with the Pokémon when not every ingredient in them is digestible for the sensitive stomachs of these creatures.” He tugged harder on Natural’s hair. “I think you know some foods are poison for Pokémon.”

  “Anthea said the Pokémon could eat them without a problem.” Raising his hands, Natural tried to loosen his father’s rigid grip.

  “It doesn’t matter what Anthea said,” Ghetsis countered. “You acted rashly and got involved in something you didn’t confirm yourself. You simply relied on the words of others. That’s exactly what gets Pokémon into their awful state. Someone makes a cim, and everyone believes it, while they fail to see that the truth is different.”

  All at once, Ghetsis let go of him, causing Natural to stumble back a few steps.

  “You are eight. You should understand this much. It may seem like a minor thing, but in reality, the damage caused is much greater.”

  A faint nod came over Natural. His father was right. He had wanted to believe Anthea, but it was important to double-check everything himself. All of him had wanted to get to the cake, and he had lost sight of the most important steps.

  “I’m sorry...”

  “If you realise this, I’m gd you understand. But a misdeed shouldn’t go unpunished. You are aware of that, aren’t you?”

  His small hands clenched into fists, he nodded. “I know.”

  “I’ll give you the choice to prove there is a prince in you who will one day be worthy of the position of king. Show me you can take responsibility.”

  Pressing his lips together, Natural stared at his father as if he wanted to burn the st words into him. The skin on his arms turned pocky, and the racing of his heart brought tears to his eyes. But no matter what punishment he would receive, it was nothing compared to the danger he had put his friends in.

  “Harmonia, you will be without food for three days,” Ghetsis revealed to him. “This is your punishment for stealing something that didn’t belong to you. You will also receive a hit with the stick for every Pokémon you put in danger with your decision.”

  Twelve hits were fair. Twelve hits he could take.

  “Your sisters will also receive these because they gave away food they should have kept. They will also go without food for three days. But you can take some of the burden off their shoulders.” His father raised a finger instructively. “You have three choices.”

  That was more than Natural had ever imagined.

  “You can unburden your sisters from starving. They’re three years older than you. Of course, they want to fulfil their little brother’s every wish, no matter how foolish it may be. You have enjoyed their good hearts and deliberately put them in trouble. For that, you would go without food for nine days.”

  Nine days. That was a long time. Ghetsis had starved him for two days once before, and Natural had often thought he wouldn’t be able to stop crying because his stomach had hurt so much.

  “Or you could be a hero to your sisters and take their hits to emphasise that you’ve all made a mistake. You would convey that you stand by your actions but want to remind everyone that your sisters only acted at your request and shouldn’t be punished for their kindness. Your hits would increase to thirty-six.”

  Natural swallowed. Whenever Ghetsis beat him, five hits with the cane seemed barely bearable without screaming. Ten swings would rob him of all feeling. So he could withstand twelve of them – barely. More seemed impossible.

  “Of course, you are free to accept the punishment as it is. In that case, everyone will get what I have assigned to them,” Ghetsis concluded.

  The choice was vast, and yet nothing seemed to fit. He would probably not survive with the first choice. His father certainly wouldn’t let him die, but he didn’t want to imagine the consequences afterwards. Anthea and Concordia would survive three days of hunger – for sure.

  With the second option, the chances were hardly any better. But watching Ghetsis beat the other two sounded like a nightmare that Natural couldn’t imagine. Then again, he could barely withstand his father’s violence himself. Thirty-six blows sent a cold shiver down his spine.

  But if he left everything as it was, would he really be able to become king one day? All of this had happened mainly because of him. However, there was also the question of the right path to take. Was a king benevolent, or was he insightful? Did he bow his head for others, or did he accept everyone’s punishment? Was he the shield of his friends, or the sword of order?

  “I... Uh...” He looked at his sisters, who still weren’t facing him. Protecting someone seemed impossible. “I... keep the punishment ... as it is...”

  A heavy sigh washed over Ghetsis. “I’m disappointed, Harmonia.”

  And with that, his father turned away from him, lifted his walking stick, and smmed it into Anthea’s face. Her pink mop of hair snapped to the side.

  Natural’s body trembled with every breath. He raised his hands above his head. Anthea’s screams thundered in his ears and his own sobs burned in his throat. He had failed his father, and yet he crept backwards, hoping to escape the beating.

  “You need to wake up!” Ghetsis’ voice remained unyielding. Anthea and Concordia disappeared. Suddenly there were only the two of them, and when his father pced a hand on his shoulder, Natural’s entire frame flinched.

  His body showed reflexes that didn’t seem comparable to his usual movements. His tiny fist shot forwards, striking Ghetsis’ cheek, and although he felt as weak as a Caterpie, his father crashed onto his behind.

  “Damn!” Instantly, he felt for his cheek. “Nice punch...”

  Natural wanted to open his mouth, beg, try again, and escape the rage. He had done that many times before, and on some days it had worked. But Ghetsis’ words seeped through his mind like tar until he blinked a few times and realised the darkness in the room. The only bit of light crept through an open metal door.

  The saliva on his tongue tasted stale as he looked down at his hands, which were suddenly no longer small. They shook like they had back then, but they were big enough to hold a Zorua.

  Slowly, Natural’s gaze drifted around the room. There was the unused bed. Close to the door stood Zoroark. There was a desk, a shelf. And there was Friede, sitting two steps in front of him, his cheek red and his upper lip chapped at one corner.

  “I’m... I’m so sorry!” Immediately, Natural pushed to his knees, unable to do anything.

  Meanwhile, Friede shrugged it off. “I’ll survive.” A soft ugh broke from him. “As long as you don’t smash my nose. Mollie would probably scold me for the next four weeks.”

  Another ugh settled on his features, causing Natural to slide back onto his bottom. He had hit someone, but this person in front of him wasn’t punishing him for it. Instead, he took it with a pinch of humour that seemed utterly absurd yet alluring as it swept through the room. It was strange, but in those seconds, Friede reminded him of sunshine. Of warm spring days that chased away any cold and lured the first flower buds out of the ground.

  “But hey ... you must have been through a lot if your nightmares are bad enough for me to hear them right into the next room.” Finally, Friede’s ughter died down, and his brows drew together loosely. “If you ever want to talk about it, well ... yeah,” he scratched the back of his head, “you can rely on me. I’m a pretty good listener ... sometimes.”

  In any other situation, he would probably have turned down the offer. After Anthea and Concordia had asked him to keep Ghetsis’ behaviour to himself, not a word had ever crossed his lips. Probably because there was nothing to tell. His father had been hard on him sometimes. But it was all for his own good.

  Who was interested in that, anyway? In a story consisting only of a child’s missteps?

  Still, he nodded as if there was hope for relief from this almost-stranger, that one day he would find the right path for himself. There was no doubt in his mind that Friede would still be at his side then, with an open ear and helpful words. Probably because he was nice. In this respect, he was strangely simir to Domino.

  But the confused thoughts still didn’t leave Natural. The heat of the nightmare still clung to his body, and every inch of his skin throbbed. His throat seemed parched, and when he tried to pull himself together to get to Zoroark, his legs instantly gave way.

  Fatigue hung deep in his bones. Sweat dripped to the ground. Friede asked something, but Natural didn’t even understand half of it. Instead, the world seemed to tilt, and when a dull thud reached him, he realised too te that he was lying hunched over on the floor.

  Not a single sound escaped him. There was only loud breathing. Seconds of silence until hands grabbed him and dragged him into an upright position. Golden eyes regarded him with concern, and he heard the next words almost too clearly.

  “I’m taking you to Mollie!”