• Natural Harmonia •

TIME IS NEVER ONE'S FRIEND. That was something I learned at a very young age. Time wouldn't heal scars; time wouldn't fix consequences; the most time could do was make you forget.

But I wasn't so lucky to do so.

I was pretty far from happy-yet I wasn't quite sad either. Happiness is only relative to what you open your eyes to, and looking back now, I must have had my eyes squeezed shut. Waking up to the day was always more of a chore than a blessing. Even so the days only seemed clouded with gray fog; fog which definitely wasn't part of the forecast. My feelings had turned to gray too; they never seemed to be there when I needed them.

Everything was gray-except for when I was doing what I felt was right. Only then did my world ever seem definite between its black and white lines.

• • •

"We all have things we hold dear to our hearts: possessions, ideas, our loved ones, our Pokémon. The list is infinite-but today I'd like you to focus on these creatures that you all call family, friends, companions and partners." A clear voice rings out through the plaza, reaching even those who weren't part of the crowd huddles around the young man.

"You may call me N. Although I stand here to represent my uncle's organization, I'd like you to think I stand here to not only represent Pokémon across Unova, but the universe. Today, I would like to talk to you about Pokémon liberation."

The crowd murmurs quietly and shifts around him, a few passersby fraying off its edges and leaving without a single glance back. Many of the young children draw away from their parents to play together nearby, although a few curious ones remain to listen to the words he wants to say.

"Now, I'm sure you all are wondering why we advocate this particular concept. Sure, there are so many other things I could be promoting, from the Pokérus vaccine to our government. It is because society is blind. You are blind to what you do not know; yet you are blind to what you do know."

"Humanity assumes that Pokémon have come together in harmony because we want and need each other. Many have become domesticated and live together with you in your homes and family. However, have you ever considered their potential? Pokémon have an undefinable amount of potential that is limited by staying besides you-and get very little in return other than being told what they can and cannot do. Pushed around like chess pieces on a board that you use to get what you want-and enjoying the pleasure of their company as you take it."

"You, sir." N is motioning towards a tall and muscular man, his attire seeming that of a construction worker's. "Your Timburr works alongside you at work, does it not? And you are paid for it." The large man seems to shrink in size as the crowd focuses their gaze on him. They're not quite scrutinizing him though, as they don't seem to see anything wrong with his situation; it's something quite a few of them do.

"Hello madams, mind if I?" Next he's gesturing towards a Lilligant-an elegant, graceful creature with an air of wisdom. Caressing the Pokémon's face, he glances at its flower and can only smile sadly. "You've had her a long time, haven't you?"

He doesn't let them answer; he doesn't need them to because he knows, but they nod and it confirms it for the crowd.

"You have done a good thing, caring for children who might not have had a childhood with caring guardians," he pauses, a bit bitter sounding, "whether it be for your want or for your morals. But this Lilligant has never had the chance to find a loving partner like you did as it would have done in the wild." He glances at the two women, a child that was obviously not theirs nestled between them. N had seen the other two go off and play.

"And you, there in the blue." There is no gentle air around him now and the crowd visibly shifts at his sharp tone. "How can you live with yourself?"

His hands are shaking as he reaches for the small Emolga and he wants to cry when the fragile creature trembles in his hands. Gently grasping a small paw, he lifts the Pokémon's arm to reveal what should have been a delicate flap of skin that allowed flight. Instead, it's split by a dark jagged line and decorated by thin, fresher wounds. He doesn't have the heart to look any further in front of the people.

A tear slips down his face as he places the Emolga back and he knows he won't be forgetting the broken look it had given him anytime soon. But he can't do anything now, not yet.

Then Natural is back again, his voice level and demanding the attention he seeks.

"Now, you all have seen three cases-all from this crowd alone. If two in every thirteen people treat Pokémon as this man has, what do you think of humanity now? I leave this idea for your judgement, but also to remind you that Pokémon are living beings, equal or even better than us-and they deserve better. Thank you for your time and attention."

And then he's smiling at nothing. There is no cheering from the crowd, no applause, no reaction. Just blank stares and calculating eyes-as if they don't quite believe him, even still. Like he was a magician and this is all a show with tricks and props meant to play with their minds. N turns away anyways, leaving the plaza with his few members behind him.

• • •

IT'S GETTING DARK and it's always dangerous near dark, especially in the city, but the sky is pretty and N doesn't want to go back. First he's walking with no destination and then he's smelling blood in the air (maybe it's just the faintest whiff, but it's there) and he is absolutely positive he needs to help. He knows pain like the Pokémon he tries so desperately to protect and he wants to be that person there for whoever might be hurting. He knows what alone feels like.

It's coming from behind a metal door cracked open in a dark alley-something that should have immediately sparked warning signs-but innocence is blinding and then he's hurrying, hurrying, hurrying to find the source. He doesn't really take in the interior of the place either, all he can really do is let his body move towards the one door where the light is on and grunting is echoing down. Doesn't really take in the darkness or the overcast shadows; he just steps into the light.

"Stop it!" It slips out of his mouth before he comprehends because fear is a overcast monster and he's scared for whoever is hurting.

In actuality, it's two beings that are hurting. One human, one Pokémon. They're kind of bruised, kind of bloody, but sparring with each other can do that to you. The guy looks up, eyes flickering with recognition and something else N can't identify.

"Oh, it's you, isn't it?" The stranger glances away, then decides to reach for a towel to which he throws to his partner, the Hitmonchan. The Pokémon looks at N warily and it's a look he's seen before, but never in a situation like this. It was always a much different situation; one where he's the savior and not the enemy.

"It's... me?" For a moment, he forgets that his uncle is influential and his family one of the few with green hair in the region. He forgets that he travels around Unova campaigning and that his face appears in the news; he forgets that most people know him, many disapprovingly.

The other male only looks at him blankly and sighs, turning away.

"Black Touya," he says. "You have my sister's heart, remember?"

The floor seems to be falling from beneath N, spiraling and shattering-and then it's gone. Everything he's suppressed is pouring back out in suffocating waves that threaten to drown him. Then he's scrambling and tripping over his feat to escape out the hallway, noticing the ring and blood a little too late. He runs back and the night is an eerily quiet; surprisingly there are no footsteps behind him. He had always been told that it would be dangerous for him to ever meet Black again.

• • •

N goes to sleep that night-or at least tries to. All of a sudden he's that insomniac thirteen year old boy staring at his ceiling with wet streaks down his face because something's wrong again. Well, not because something's wrong again-because it's been there for all this time-but he's once again reminded that there's someone else's heart in his being making that steady bum-bum-badum.

He used to count the stars until morning, but there's something else wrong now. There aren't any stars in the city.

« The word youth comes to mind. »

  • • •