“You’d think you like being in the wrong place at the wrong time!” N’s smile widens a little more as his hoarse voice reaches my ears and I flinch.

  In these seconds, he seems completely changed – a bit hyper and full of mischief. He doesn’t seem to want to have a deep conversation, as is usually the case when we meet. Instead, he seems to have been infected by the delightful mood of the amusement park.

  “What do you mean?” I finally utter, my eyes fixed on him, though the rest of me remains strangely relaxed. Although he tilts his head and looks at me as if I’ve challenged him to a fight, he doesn’t convey pressure. His presence seems just as harmless as usual.

  “Plasma has settled here. They gather by the Ferris wheel and I didn’t miss the fact some of them jumped you the other day.” His sentences roll off his tongue so quickly I have to listen carefully to make sure nothing escapes me. “You and your friends have a problem with Plasma, don’t you?”

  “Our sides just have different ideas about how some things should be.” At least that’s what I think. Actually, the Explorers have nothing to do with Plasma, and probably the only reason the groups are getting closer is because of me. Ghetsis’ intentions are forcing us into unwanted positions. On top, there’s probably no one who doesn’t currently have some kind of problem with Team Plasma. “And why do you even ask when you already know the answer? It was you who told me when we first met that Plasma’s ideals would eventually make sense..."

  Thoughtfully, he puts a finger to his lips before an apologetic chuckle slips from his lips. “Did I?” Then he winks at me. “Maybe I’ve just been convinced of something else, or maybe I’m looking for an alternative because I want to learn more about other perspectives.”

  “All of a sudden? Could it be the high spirits of the park have somehow reached your head?”

  “Don’t such things always go to our heads?” A sigh escapes him. “Okay, enough boring talk. Let’s explore things!”

  I don’t know what to say before N grabs me by the wrist and pulls me along. For a moment, I have no choice but to follow reluctantly. But the warmth of his touch and the pleasure resonating in his every step are infectious. Moving away from Spinel is certainly not my best idea, but I want to believe I know N well enough to trust him.

  The stalls and the laughter of the people here pass me by as I keep my eyes fixed on N’s tangled green hair and block out the world. Only when we arrive at the Ferris wheel, where only a few people are waiting for a place in the cabins, does my tunnel vision break away from him and I look around. Team Plasma is nowhere to be seen.

  “Didn’t you say something about a gathering of Plasma here? Where are they?”

  “They must have gone looking for me.” Laughter overcomes him. “They must have noticed I disappeared.”

  “You were with them?”

  “As a kind of prisoner.” He shrugs his shoulders. “So I could watch how the Pokémon are used here. I even got to have a look behind the scenes at the theatre and I have to say ... I wasn’t happy about what I saw. That’s why we went to the amusement park afterwards.”

  “Plasma is trying to convince you the Pokémon are fundamentally mistreated?” It makes no sense, and yet I can’t help but cling to one of my older thoughts. The likelihood that N is part of this group seems more possible than that he’s just here for fun. He can talk to Pokémon. Ghetsis has already given him away as an important component. I can’t imagine there’s anyone else besides him and me who’s fallen into the hands of these maniacs.

  “Does it matter?” N’s gaze wanders to the Ferris wheel and, although he seems to toy with a serious answer to my question, he shakes his head. “How about some quality time?”

  I want to protest, to rebuke him and make him realise that whatever he’s planning, my interest in these seconds lies in his tangled statements. There’s no point in trying to have fun when a flood of unresolved questions keeps crashing down on me. N doesn’t let me stop him, walks ahead and leaves it up to me to decide if I want to follow him into a cubicle. It almost seems as if I have a choice in the face of the questions he raises in me.

  In the end, I follow him. The two of us find a seat in a cabin which rises into the air a little later; slowly and barely noticeable, but it exudes a kind of calm that causes N to sit down on a bench and look outside. With his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, he seems to be oblivious to our situation until I settle down too and lower my eyelids for two breaths.

  “What’s it like for you to talk to Pokémon?” His sudden question elicits a sound of incomprehension from me. “I mean, you said you can talk to some of them. How is it for you? Do you like talking to them?”

  It takes a moment before I can engage with his questions, even though he knows the answers. We’ve talked about communicating with Pokémon before. It’s nothing new. “I haven’t had much chance to talk to Pokémon yet. Sometimes I wish I could do it like you. But ... I can only talk to legendary Pokémon.”

  “That means you didn’t learn the Pokémon language from an early age?”

  “No ... I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

  “If you didn’t learn it from an early age, then it would explain the difference. Pokémon all speak the same language with distinct sounds. A bit like humans have their accents, depending on which region they come from,” N explains calmly. “So the fact you can understand some Pokémon really is a special ability!”

  ”I’m just wondering where I got it from.” My gaze lowers. It’s this skill that has secured me a place with the Explorers and attracts a certain level of attention from Ghetsis.

  ”Presumably, a powerful Pokémon passed it on to you. Legendary Pokémon have a very different aura than regular ones. Surely it has something to do with that.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I’m sure!” He gives me a joyful smile that seems incredibly genuine compared to Spinel’s.

  “I just wonder how it can be that Pokémon understand humans so easily. We’ve been living together forever, but ... the level of understanding remains unequal.” Something inside me wants to distract from the actual topic and relief seems to overtake me as N lets me guide him.

  “They are born with language,” his gaze shifts out of the window once again. By now, we can almost see over the rooftops of the city. “They are born and ... are already full-grown Pokémon. As if the language of humans and a whole, lived life has already been placed on their shoulders inside the egg.” He looks at me again. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

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  ”An exciting theory,” I reply. “The only question is why we humans can’t learn the Pokémon language so easily.”

  “Maybe because Arceus had other plans.” He shrugs his shoulders. “That’s why N ended up with Plasma. They saw a vision of the future in that ability and jumped on it after they failed in their first attempt to win over a human with nearly the same skill.”

  My brows lift. The silence between us grows briefly before my counterpart tilts his head back and lets out a soundless laugh.

  “He wants to help them make the world a better place. Pokémon should be happy. Plasma’s ideals sound appealing, don’t they?” As he leans forward, he scrutinises me with dark eyes. “He’s been influenced by Ghetsis and his views all his life. Always locked in the same room and disciplined by the same hand that fed him. So long and so thoroughly that he no longer even wants to believe in our friendship.”

  In the next blink of an eye, he dissolves. N’s shape changes before my eyes, losing its form and gaining unfamiliar shadows. His green hair turns a deep red, his body narrows and as black fur bursts through, the illusion of a young man fades to give way to the reality of a Zoroark – a Pokémon that looks like Ying and yet seems completely different.

  “Your Pokémon love you,” it continues. “I’ve seen a lot of relationships where both sides are loyal to each other. But N ... he doesn’t want to see any of that. It almost seems like he only looks at the bad things and human wrongdoings because that’s all Ghetsis has taught him. Solely because that guy beat it into him from an early age how much my kind suffers at the hands of humans.”

  “You ... speak my language?” I can hardly follow it. The sudden change in front of my eyes is overwhelming and although Zoroark chuckles at my condition, this time it doesn’t leave me with a thousand questions.

  “I learnt it with N. We were always together. From an early age on.” Its ears twitch. “I was his first friend, and I stayed with him when Ghetsis took him in.”

  “He raised him?”

  Zoroark nods. “He’s kind of like his ... you call it adoptive father.”

  The saliva runs down my throat far too dryly. The connection between N and Team Plasma, even between him and Ghetsis, shocks me only half as much as the fact that I’m having a conversation with a Pokémon. Usually, I’m left with Mirra, who has a hard time with human language. This is something else. Almost as if Zoroark is human itself.

  “Right now, N is on his way back to Castelia City. We were at the theatre together and instead of looking at the lovely work of those present, he got stuck on a Pokémon that was reprimanded for its poor performance.” Zoroark shakes its head, barely noticeable. “I think if he refuses to see the truth any longer, something terrible might happen in Unova. Or to him.”

  “Concerning the plan to revive the legend of Unova?”

  It nods. “The legendary dragons, Zekrom and Reshiram ... if they don’t acknowledge someone as a hero, they destroy them. They aren’t willing to be used by humans. And even if one dragon takes a liking to N ... I’m sure he’ll plunge Unova into chaos because he doesn’t see how Ghetsis puts the wrong things into his head.”

  “And what do you want from me?”

  “I like you.” Its eyes narrow to mischievous slits before it twitches its nose a few times. “The first time N saw you, you squeezed through a gathering of people to get a closer look at Plasma’s speech. You pushed him aside completely unnoticed, and he was mesmerised by how badly you wanted to see the big picture first-hand. He even thought you might know each other. That’s why he approached you and your first conversation made him think a bit. It was the first time he’d had a short, sincere talk with someone who wasn’t shoved in his face by Ghetsis.”

  “And you think I can change anything?”

  “He saw how much your Pokémon love you and he listened to you. Even after your chat, he talked a little about you and your views and thought about it, if only briefly. For a breath, he allowed it.”

  Slowly, I fold my hands and take a breath. “And you want me to talk to him more? That I make him realise the world isn’t as cruel as he thinks? I’ve already tried that...”

  ”I know,” Zoroark replies. “But I want him to understand. I want him to realise the bond between humans and Pokémon. He hasn’t listened to me for a long time when it comes to topics like this because he associates most of what I say with mischief and bad humour. I was ... too tempted by pranks and realised the situation too late.”

  It still does. After all, it has brought me here in full anticipation, to a place where we are alone, but which is still part of its strangely cranky show. Just the thought that Zoroark has been performing this act alongside N all his life makes it easier to comprehend the circumstances. I probably wouldn’t attach any importance to the Pokémon’s words either, after all the pranks and teasing.

  “A lot of Pokémon are looking for love in life. For someone who cares for them as much as they would for someone else. This affection, and often fulfilment, ... we usually find this peace alongside humans. Coaches, gardeners, bakers – whoever is willing to open their heart. Whether talentless or stupid ... everyone deserves to have someone in their life, or even several. You grow together, experience together ... all those things I went through with N...” It lowers its head. “I love him. He’s my best friend. And I don’t want to lose him because of an ideology.”

  As much as I would like to jump up and do something, my hands are tied. Using words to convince N of something he doesn’t want to believe seems impossible. And I also have no clue how deeply I should get involved. Plasma is dangerous. Freeing N from these clutches can be compared to the rigid grip of my father. First, you fight back, then you think you can escape, and when you look over your shoulder, there are pursuers. The only difference is that Plasma is violent.

  Pressing my lips together, I let the scenario run through my head. I don’t know what it’s like to believe in something I’ve been forced to believe. Whenever my father tried to talk me into accepting the incredibly dangerous world of Pokémon, I didn’t listen. My thick skull never let him convince me. However, I know the feeling of having to achieve something at all costs. I’ve taken on danger to taste freedom and I’m prepared to go much further to protect my Pokémon. It’s probably no different for him.

  Do things like sense and reason even work in cases like this? Is there any way I can reach N that no one else has already tried?

  Sighing, I lean back and put a hand to my forehead. I don’t know what I can do for Zoroark, and yet I don’t want to send it away with nothing.

  “I can’t promise anything,” I finally say. “But if the chance arises ... I’ll talk to him and try to make him understand your feelings.”

  Its head lifts and the gleam in its eyes spreads warmth inside me I haven’t felt for a long time. Then we both look out of the window and it seems as if we are floating above Nimbasa City. The houses are below us. The light of the sun, reflecting off the windows of some buildings, throws images onto the streets and cars below us. People and Pokémon move between them – an inseparable unit.

  “I wonder how many Pokémon there are in the world.” Like a breath, I comment on this world at my feet and when Zoroark lets out an amused snort, a smile crosses my lips.

  The budding peace between us lulls me into relaxation. The noise that prevails everywhere in Unova can’t reach me up here. Here I don’t have to worry about what should be and what will come. The arguments and hostility towards Team Plasma no longer play a role and my father’s calls fade into the background. It feels like I’ve found a friend. Someone I can confide in. It doesn’t matter that it’s a Pokémon.

  Shortly after reaching its highest point, the Ferris wheel carries us back to the ground, where someone opens the cabin for us and offers a “Thank you for your visit”. The sky is now turning a distinct orange colour and although I would love to spend more time with Zoroark, I know our minutes end here. Two members of Plasma are already standing at a stall talking to the owner. They are waving their hands, trying to visualise something, and when I glance to my side, N is standing next to me. A dark flicker on his skin disappears the instant he puts his hands on his hips.

  “They must be searching for me.” A grin spreads across his features. “About time I join them before they cause you more trouble.”

  Without further ado, I grab him by the wrist, but I don’t know what to say. My body has simply reacted, unwilling to let Zoroak walk back into the hands of this cult. But N needs a friend, and this Pokémon is probably all he has to rely on. It’s not my job to determine where someone is better placed. I am not my father. So I let him go.

  “Take care of the both of you.”