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The air is pleasant, the building and its surroundings quiet, the sky clear. It's a beautiful night. N can relax, close his eyes, and not hear much for once. The Pokémon Center is remote enough from the edge of the forest and there are few nocturnals in the building — no Koromori chirping, no Dentula chittering; most Pokémon in the vicinity are asleep just like their humans, and the three he's traveling with.
Well, like two of them.
"You may come out," he says, not loud enough to wake anyone, but not a discreet whisper either.
There is no reaction for a long minute, before, finally, like capitulation, he hears a slightly rustle from one of the beds, sheets being wrinkled and moved aside, and when N opens his eyes, the young man is standing next to him on the balcony.
"N-san," he acknowledges, with a smile that manages to be utterly neutral.
N knows (has had ample proof) that he has no skill for socialities and reading people's facial expressions. He expects lies from humans, but it's clear-cut honesty he's used to, it's non-verbal communication he grew up with, and mostly of Pokémon; only a select few humans.
But those particular humans, he recognizes, even in pajamas and bare feet and a grin for an insubstantial mask.
"Dent-kun, was it that you said? You were one of those three, weren't you?"
The young man nods with that same tranquility at the first question, but shows absolutely no physical reaction to the second. "Oh, have you met my brothers?" he says instead, beaming.
N blinks, once, with intent. "At the castle."
"I'm quite sorry to say I have no idea what you're talking about, N-san~"
"I wasn't sure for a long time. You changed your body language, voice inflections and speaking pattern along with your hair, but your eyes are rather distinctive."
Those same eyes that now gaze at him levelly, empty, completely guarded, but that in itself is a giveaway (a familiar sight).
Slowly, carefully, he admits: "That was always a problem."
N nods, and waits.
Eventually, the young man gives in and breaks the silence, like one makes light conversation, despite his topic of choice being anything but innocent. "Satoshi is interesting," he notes casually. N has nothing to say to that. "Fascinating, one could even say." N closes his eyes again. "Do you think he's the second Hero?"
"Isn't that why you're here?" N finally retorts, since his interlocutor insists on stating the obvious.
"I... am not on a mission." Now that is unanticipated. As though amazed by this fact himself, the young man laughs a little, briefly, low and soft so as not to awaken the children. "I cannot blame you for thinking so, of course. You were already gone, so you couldn't know... He dismissed us, back then. Before disappearing." He's still smiling. N recognizes that smile — more accurately, that kind of smile, frozen still, nothing more than a mechanical imitation of a feeling, the motions without the warmth; anything but happy. "I promise to you, I am here of my own volition and by complete coincidence," he continues calmly. "If your father has contacted my brothers ever since, I have not heard any of it. A few days ago was the first I became aware of this Akuroma and Plasma's resurgence, just like Satoshi and Iris."
That, at least, is worth knowing. And mildly reassuring, despite implying uselessness.
"So you don't know anything more than I," N ventures.
"Even less, probably. I was taken by surprise, for once."
He does not waver under N's stare, but his guard has now gone down — voluntarily; he is not letting anything slip, but simply exposing it all, like a Zoroark offers its throat to show sincerity, trust, and submission.
"I have no ill intentions towards these children," he states serenely, softly (yet firm as steel).
N nods. Then thinks to verbalize: "Neither have I," and only then does Dent-kun relax (the most minute shift in his shoulders and jawline, tension leaving his fingers where they're clenching his own wrists behind his back, probably unnoticeable to anyone unfamiliar with what once was his default alert stance).
"Good."
It is all very unexpected, unexpectable, coming from him, the open display of willingness to fight his once-king without orders — against orders he could have been given, would likely have been given; the pointed wafts of animosity, and especially, now, their abrupt relenting. N needs to think and search for the appropriate words to express this.
Ah. Found them.
"You care about them," he formulates.
"My, my, it seems even you can understand this after all!" the boy bites back cheerfully, and N is startled by the smile it brings to his own face in human, socialized reflex. Then he adds, as if in jest: "Your Majesty," bringing one arm curved in front of him and taking half a step back and leaning forward in the suggestion of a bow, barely executed but entirely respectful —
"I'm no King anymore."
— and straightens, brings his shoulders up and back again, and the slouch disappears completely.
"To be honest, I was hoping our roads would separate again before you recognized me," he confesses with a chuckle. "And before you brought danger to Satoshi and Iris. Not that they really needed you to get tangled up with Team Plasma on their own anyway..."
N crosses his fingers before his mouth, thoughtful and solemn. "Satoshi got himself — and you all — involved with Team Plasma on his own; it's no use fighting that, and I would like his help if possible," he admits, aware himself that it is a sort of apology. "But I will not let Ghetsis hurt anyone this time, directly or indirectly."
Dent's smile is still there, still bright yet fleeting now, as if transparent. Dimly, like the blandest of Perap, like the most mechanical of automata, he repeats: "The master hasn't contacted me since then."
N nods, in recognition of, at least, this much, and everything it may mean for him.
And the boy comes to life again, morphs back into the colorful, bright-eyed, animated Sommelier he introduced himself as. "How unexpected. In the end, our flavors seem to emulsify harmoniously!" Dent concludes with a flourish. "Good taste~"
It doesn't sound that odd coming from his mouth, N supposes.
"When did you two get this friendly?" Iris asks with a suspicious frown the next morning, while they're getting ready to head downstairs for breakfast.
Kibago sports a similar wary expression, but Satoshi looks simply bemused by her observation (probably confused that she should find it strange), and Pikachu doesn't react at all.
"We had a little bonding session between grown-ups last night," Dent answers airily, setting down N's cap on his head. N blinks in acknowledgement. "The mixture turned out surprisingly smooth and homogeneous."
"All right, I don't want to know anymore."
"Iris..." he scolds, though gently, still smiling.
"Homowhat?" Satoshi pipes up.
She shakes her head, calls him a child, and he proves her right with a majestic pout. N feels himself smiling just watching them; him. Satoshi is an overwhelming, intense presence, exhausting to be around, exhaustingly both not what N expected and more than he anticipated.
He has to be the other Hero, if it's anyone it is him, even Dent could sense it and N feels it in his own bones, in the vibrating air around Satoshi, in the boy's astounding perfect communion with Pikachu — but it is a child. The Hero of Ideals is a wide-eyed innocent, impulsive, illogical child: it is frustrating but fitting, and perhaps N should have seen it coming and have predicted how Satoshi would be like before even meeting him.
He didn't, and every second around Satoshi, impulsive and radiant, is a breath of fresh air that fills and stings his lungs.
Pikachu jumps on Satoshi's other shoulder to catch N's eye and squeaks proudly; N tilts his head in answer. Yes, he really is.
Satoshi peers at them quizzically, perceiving that a message is being communicated despite being himself unable to decipher it, but doesn't probe. Pikachu nudges his cheek with his own to placate him, making N smile again without thinking at the picture of them both, and Satoshi's apparently reflexive answer is to beam back with his trademark abandoned spontaneity. In the doorway, Iris rolls her eyes and shakes her head and asks them to hurry, she can't be the only one starving.
As he closes the door behind them all, Dent suddenly says, "Can I leave you guys for a minute? I'd like to give my brothers a call. It's been a while."
"We'll wait for you in the cafeteria," N declares. His first words out loud of the day give Iris enough startle that he has the time to lay a hand on Satoshi's shoulder and induce the movement down the hallway, before the children can suggest they'd like to say hi to Dent's brothers too and that N should see them at least once.
Both of their stomachs agree to the plan out loud, anyway.
Dent nods, finishes buttoning his cufflinks, and goes his own way.
"Not as good as Dent's cooking," Satoshi bemoans dramatically, although that does not stop him from chewing down his pancake with energy.
N assumes his companion is going to rebuke him again, but she agrees with a dejected look, only adding as an afterthought, "Don't speak with your mouth full."
"You're doing it too!"
It is true, N has to admit, that, though good, the Pokémon Center's self-service dishes have nothing on the regal meals he has already had the honor of being served by the little group's apparent self-appointed personal chef.
Dent's smile, when he joins them for breakfast barely ten minutes later, is unreadable, and he takes great care to avoid N's pondering gaze; but neither the Pokémon or their trainers appear to notice anything strange, and N does not feel like this is bad news. Although he likes to reason and follow logic, his instincts are rarely wrong.
He stops feeding Pikachu bits of his toast in order to scoot over on the bench and make some room for Dent, who sits down by his side with a quick smile at him (though still avoiding his eyes).
"All right, seriously now," Iris blurts out. "A week ago Dent was making fun of N-san, and suddenly this morning you're all chummy buddies. What did I miss?"
N returns her stare, and conscientiously stores into his memory the fact that she is more observant than he credited her for. Dent, for his part, does not seem surprised by this. He takes his time helping himself to a runny omelet, thoughtfully humming under his breath all the while, pours himself a cup of coffee, and takes a sip, before finally pronouncing: "Honesty time."
Iris's eyebrows rise but Satoshi's furrow a little and he leans in closer, instantly intent and already a little concerned — his attitude perfectly mirrored by Pikachu. N simply slides his gaze from Iris to Dent, keeping quiet for now, curious to hear what he has decided to tell.
"To start with, I think we both smelled the same distasteful whiff since the first time we met, but we weren't exactly eager to bring it up until N-san decided to cut to the plat de résistance last night," he quickly summarizes. "Our unsavory suspicions turned out to be founded..." He sets his cup down carefully on its saucer, pinky finger cushioning the rim to prevent clinking, and looks back up with a slightly eerie but placid smile and a knowing glance to N. "N-san, my brothers, and I, were all raised in the same orphanage. It was a while ago, though, so we couldn't be sure until we discussed it."
It is not a false account.
For a long unit of time, the children don't react at all, no change to their expression, no sound. After a few thick seconds of quiet, Satoshi just utters, "Oh", and immediately gets Iris's elbow in the ribs.
"So you knew each other!" she exclaims over his pained yelp — only a little nervous, her voice only a little shrill, her eyes only a little wide despite the immensity of the sadness suddenly flooding them. Kibago cries out faintly.
"Yep." Dent's smile is unfailing, and admirable; N cannot even determine whether it is forced for their sake, or genuine because of them. "N-san really brought a nostalgic fragrance with him."
N clears his throat cautiously; Dent's gaze jumps onto him immediately, though he doesn't move his head, just looking at him from the corner of his eye. "About that... We will reach Hodomoe City in a few days," he reminds everyone, speaking slowly, clearly. "The reason it is my destination in the first place is that it seems my sisters — from that place — might be living there." He closes his eyes for a second. "Would you like to try and meet them?"
Dent is the last to respond, after Satoshi and Iris's enthusiastic cries ("Ooh, N-san, you have sisters?! I bet they're nice!", "They must be super pretty!"), but he looks straight into N's eyes this time as he answers: "I would be glad to."
They sleep outside under the stars that night. It has only happened a few times — N's new companions have deliberately tried to push to the next Pokémon Center since they realized, the first time, that N does not carry any kind of sleeping bag like theirs, despite his repeated assurances that he does not need such equipment or anything else to be perfectly at ease sleeping in the wild.
While Dent starts chopping vegetables, Iris sets the table and Kibago tries his best to prevent Zuruggu from breaking anything as they help, Satoshi volunteers N to go gather firewood with him, and puts Pikachu on what is evidently Dent-watch. Pikachu peeps firmly (Count on me!) and makes with his paw the kind of salute a human underling does upon receiving orders, even though Satoshi used no words, out loud or otherwise. Satoshi simply nods in grateful answer.
N foresees a few questions while they're alone, but once again fails to accurately predict anything about this boy. Satoshi just allows for an oddly long (for him) period of silence, then starts chattering as is his habit, without especially pushing to get him to talk — N answers when he sees fit, but most of Satoshi's babble is inconsequential, disjointed monologue. White noise. N hears nothing special from the camp, either.
They come back, light the fire, eat Dent's delicious-as-ever dinner and get ready for the night with the same endless amiable, irrelevant chatter. Joy-san told them about a fair on their way, which they should reach tomorrow; Iris is excited and Satoshi is already thinking of the food they'll buy there.
Like all previous times, Satoshi insists on unzipping his sleeping bag and using it as a blanket to cover N too; but this time, he also quite plainly chooses to pull N down with him right next to where Dent has rolled out his own sleeping bag — and Iris, instead of climbing up a tree to hang her hammock in its branches, gathers her blanket and lies down on Dent's other side, very close.
They look single-mindedly prepared to argue how necessary this is, but Dent does not object or even mention it, barely shakes his head with a smile as he zips his sleeping bag up to his chin.
At the hour when stars shine brightest, Satoshi murmurs out of the blue, "N-san."
He nods, his chin touching Satoshi's skull lightly, then the boy raises his head, his coarse hair brushing N's face, the warmth of his breath and of Pikachu's sleeping body permeating through the layers of N's clothes. In the starlight, N can just barely make out the whites of his wide-open eyes.
"It was a bad place, wasn't it?" Satoshi whispers.
N breathes in, out, in, out, doesn't think about the words words wordswordwords echoing in the tiny room. He remembers instead a blue sky under his feet, remembers the joy of learning, remembers warm embraces around his tiny shoulders and warm purring under his tiny hands and shadows standing watch in the corners of his world and feeling safe.
"Not all of it," is the integrality of what he will say about it. Satoshi seems to understand that. He nods silently in return, and slowly, shuffles around under the cover of the sleeping bag, to turn his back to N, his elbows colliding with N's and his heels kicking at N's shins, to face Dent. Pikachu mutters sleepily and shifts in his arms, but does not wake.
(No one is speaking anymore and N refuses to listen but he can't stop hearing the words, ringing inside of his cranium all night, even when he finally falls asleep.)
They reach Hodomoe three days later.
N comes to in a large bed in a small, warm room, feeling his brain throbbing. His brain, not his skull. The room itself is blessedly free of any noise, though he can hear, through the walls, a constant, low mumble on the other side. From the windows on the left-hand wall, sunrays stream through the diaphanous curtains and the glint blinds him, so he turns his head to the right, and meets watchful, careful eyes.
Dent smiles at him from his bedside. N had not felt or heard him. "Your sisters took care of you," he says softly. "After Plasma left."
N blinks slowly. That explains why he can't feel any pain from his wounds anymore, despite distinctly remembering getting the brunt of Ononokus and Kairyu's attacks. He sits up gingerly. "Where are they?"
"They didn't really want to stay around me, but Iris and Satoshi convinced them it was alright for me to keep watch over you. They're a bit wary of us all, but me the most, obviously." It's that same smile again, a bit forced, a bit self-deprecating, but also a bit amused and not bitter at all. "Do you want me to call them in here?"
"I think I can stand."
Dent nods and reaches out with both hands so N can take his arm and lean on him anyway, without either of them voicing it.
"Verbena-san, Helena-san, he's awaaaaaaaaake~!" he sing-songs at the door.
They look up.
N has barely a second to brace himself with his arm around Dent's shoulders before he's engulfed in a pair of tight hugs, two pairs of arms, two faces hitting his torso. This kind of contact from them is not unknown, but it shocks him today; it's been so long and their holds never used to be this tight, this desperate, this grateful.
"He's fine," Dent chuckles.
They give him a look out of the corner of their eyes, a little resentful and a little uncomfortable, but though they do not hug him as well they do not shy away from touching him either. They sigh happily against N's chest and he wraps his free arm around their frail shoulders to pull them closer.
Then come a chirrup — Pikachu's — and a squeal — Kibago's — and Satoshi and Iris's heads pop into the hallways with large smiles, and N's sisters slowly separate from him, holding his free hand in theirs.
"It's good you're awake. Tea is ready."
They look healthy, rested, as though life has finally started being good to them; once the worry has eased from their faces, the creases at the corners of their eyes smooth out and they look their age at last. It is strange to see them in civilian clothes, something as practical as a shawl around Verbena's shoulders and something as trivial and needless as a small bouquet of flowers in her apron pocket. N had not known that she liked flowers. There are flowers all around the house, as well as moss and ivy climbing outside up and around the windowsills.
Their house is warm, coquette, cozy, colorful, and loud now with the sounds of their relieved giggles, of Zoro's yipping at Dent's ankles, of Iris's admiration and of Satoshi's making himself adored. It's big for two persons, but they are clearly never alone in it: wild Pokémon constantly come and go through the wide open doors and windows, to get help, to check on wounded friends, or just for company. Still not enough space to comfortably accommodate the large size of Hihidaruma, though, who prefers to loiter in the clearing around the house, so N steps outside for a moment to greet him.
They sit on plump armchairs and cushions around the living room and Verbena pours fragrant herbal tea for everyone in a porcelain set glazed in pastel colors. Kibago takes a sip from Iris's cup and almost spills it over in surprise at the bitter taste; Iris wipes his mouth with a lacy napkin like an admonishing mother while Verbena and Helena laugh. Choroneko leisurely strolls over, demanding petting; Dent jerks away with a grimace at his sight and Iris and Satoshi exchange a knowing embarrassed grin, but do not draw attention to it.
(N distantly remembers an especially feral and (turned) vicious Choroneko which escaped from his room once, and shadows chasing it down. He was very small at the time. The shadows weren't very big either.
He keeps Choroneko in his lap, across the table from Dent.)
Then Helena lets Dent join her in cooking dinner; when N goes to glimpse inside the kitchen, they're standing very straight, side-by-side, talking in bits and pieces of hushed voices while they chop vegetables with practiced moves of their blades and do not look at each other.
He returns to the living room without a word and catches Verbena's inquiring gaze; she fidgets a little, but does not step in either, instead opting to occupy Iris and Satoshi by showing them how she treats the wounds of the few Pokémon that are currently resting in another room.
It's a nice place. It's easy to move around and breathe in, and it's noisy but the good kind of noise, and full of pain but the kind that they can soothe away, the kind that heals on its own with time.
It takes a long time convincing Verbena and Helena to not give up their bed for the night; eventually, what happens is that Dent starts unrolling his sleeping bag in the middle of the living room, so Iris and Satoshi share a look and, in a beautifully synchronized assault, tackle him down onto the couch and forcefully snuggle up with him right then and there. (Meaning: he lets them.) While his sisters fret some more yet laugh at the same time, N drops a single fresh linen sheet over the pile of limbs. With the heat of three bodies, it should be more than enough. Dent protests, but can't stop a fond smile from pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"Thank you," he says in the end.
N tips his cap wordlessly.
They say goodnight; Iris's is decisive, Satoshi's is cheerful and Dent's is muffled under their arms. Then Verbena and Helena push and pull N down the hallway to their room and their bed, neither too big for two people nor too small for three. He lies down in the embrace of his sisters, mothers, not-goddesses-anymore, and closes his eyes. Zoroa yawns and settles in a tight little ball of furry, tangible warmth heavy on his stomach; Helena has an arm wrapped around his shoulder, Verbena has her cheek resting on his head.
"I won't let Father hurt anyone anymore," he mumbles in the veil of their loose hair. "Not any Pokémon, not any human. Not you. Not them. Not me. And not himself."
"We know you can do it," one of them whispers. "Again. You have been so brave already."
"Here is safe. We won't let anyone find this place," the other breathes. "For now, you can rest."
"Please."
"Thank you for everything."
Like (he imagines) a mother tucks in her child, they leave a feather-light kiss on each of his temples, their lips and breaths like a breeze.
He sleeps soundly, dreamlessly.
He wakes to absolute silence.
Dawn is barely tingeing the sky, the inside of the house is still bathed in dark grey shadows and sleep. He carefully pulls back the quilted bedcover and rises from the bed without awakening his sisters or Zoroa, and walks down the dark hallway with his bare feet soundless on the wooden floorboards. Even Kokoromori is already asleep, hanging upside down from the crossbeams of the ceiling.
The first sound he hears that day is a very soft, "Good morning," with a very soft smile. Once again N could not detect him, feel him or hear him, until he actually spoke; Dent does not move (he probably simply cannot), and quickly glances on either side of him to make sure he hasn't disturbed the sleeping children wrapped all over him.
"Good morning," N whispers back.
Dent laughs a little but still without sound (just a bright grin showing teeth and a silent, restrained quake of his chest under Satoshi's head and Iris's palm) when N sits down on the floor next to him, his shoulder touching Dent's elbow where it's wrapped around Satoshi's ribcage to keep him from tumbling down.
In front of the unlit fireplace, Pikachu opens one eye, sweeps a perfunctory look over the four of them before considering N gravely, and quietly chirps, Good morning.
N sits back, leaning a little more against Dent's arm. Good morning, he answers.
Pikachu nods, shifts only a little to huddle closer to Kibago, Sirknight and Gothiruselle, and lowers his eyelid again, immediately falling back into carefree sleep.
"I'm going to protect them," N tells him, too.
He realizes only after he's said it that maybe he's spoken too suddenly again, and too quickly, that it lacks context and clarity — yet Dent immediately responds, "I know you will." The quietness of his voice does not hide the certainty in it.
N twists his neck to tip his head back and look at him, over Satoshi's peacefully rising and falling shoulder. "I mean, them all. Everyone. My sisters, Satoshi, Pikachu, Iris, Kibago, and you, too."
"Of course." Dent smiles like it's easy, like he doesn't have a doubt about it, like not even Helena and Verbena smile. "And I'll help you."
N works his throat to swallow, but Dent's calm, confident expression still doesn't change. "If my father..."
"I will help you." He laughs a little again, but his gaze is still serious and anything but joking. "And attempt to keep Satoshi and Iris from getting themselves into trouble again, but we can only try our best about that."
N means to nod; it turns into him simply tilting his head down and staying like that, leaving his forehead pressed against Dent's forearm, and closing his eyes.
"We'll need to leave before Plasma finds this house. I'm just going to sleep a little more," he starts saying, though he isn't sure he actually audibly finishes that sentence, and Dent agrees with a soft chortle before he does anyway.
Dent twists his wrist just enough to lightly tread nimble fingers through N's wild hair, where a rusted crown once sat. "Get all the rest you need," he whispers, "and tomorrow we'll go to war."