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They’re happy.
How are they happy?
These thoughts plague N as he paces his room, deafening him as they echo through his brain.
They’re happy.
If that trainer’s Pokemon were happy, that means everything N knows is wrong. Pokemon hated existing with humans, that’s what he’s been told all along. The Pokemon he knew, the human he knew… they all come to the same conclusion.
The world was meant to be separated from Pokemon and humans.
Pokemon didn’t like to be with humans.
Humans were awful, a waste of existence that deserved to be punished, banished from the existence that Pokemon held so dear. To abuse a Pokemon, to mistreat other humans…
N remembers the Pokemon he knew as a little boy. They always were happy with him.
It was a lie.
That’s what he was told all along. None of these things made sense, though, if that Pokemon was so happy to be with that trainer.
N writes these things, over and over in his journal. He rips each page out, burning it along with the last one. Because nothing made sense anymore. His entire world, his entire life meant nothing now, and so he cremated the pages like the embodiments of his previous feelings. A funeral for what he thought he knew.
But the world wasn’t different when he was done. Looking out his window it still looked the same. The same sun, the same moon, the same stars. Nothing changed on the outside and yet on the inside he was suffering, mourning a loss of his own that nobody would understand.
Isn’t it great that people and Pokemon like being together?
N knows that’s what they’d ask, and it should be great. But losing it all…
No, N tells himself. He can’t bury himself so soon. He needs to understand things are wrong, that the world doesn’t work that way. People and Pokemon can’t be together.
But what if….