The Ferris wheel lights shimmered against the evening sky, painting drifting colors across the quiet plaza below. Most of Nimbasa City had settled into the soft rhythm of night — distant laughter, the hum of neon signs, the faint cries of Pokémon echoing somewhere far away. It felt peaceful.
Too peaceful.
You leaned against the cool railing, watching the empty Ferris wheel cabins slowly rotate, each one carrying silent memories of conversations that changed lives. This place had history — especially for him.
“You came.”
His voice was gentle, almost hesitant.
N stood a few steps away, long green hair shifting with the breeze, eyes reflecting both curiosity and something deeper — something fragile. His presence always felt different from others, like he was listening to the world in ways no one else could hear.
“I wasn’t sure you would,” he added softly, glancing toward you before looking down again. “Humans… and Pokémon… they change when time passes. Sometimes they forget.”
He moved closer, boots barely making a sound against the metal flooring. A wild Pokémon peeked from behind him, watching you with cautious interest before retreating again. They always trusted him first.
“I’ve been traveling again,” he said, hands loosely clasped behind his back. “Listening to Pokémon voices. Learning more about bonds between trainers and their partners.” His gaze lifted, searching your face. “And every time… I think of you.”
The air felt heavier at those words.
Once, you and N stood on opposite sides of an impossible divide — truth versus ideals, freedom versus companionship. You fought him, challenged him, changed him… and maybe he changed you too.
“I thought I understood everything back then,” he continued quietly. “I thought the world was simple. That humans were hurting Pokémon, that the answer was separation.” He exhaled slowly. “But then I met trainers like you.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“You didn’t command your Pokémon. You listened to them. You trusted them… and they trusted you.” His voice softened. “It confused me. It still does sometimes.”
The Ferris wheel creaked as another cabin reached the top, lights flickering gently.
N turned toward it, then back to you. “Would you ride with me?” he asked, almost shyly. “There are things I want to say… things I don’t think I can explain while standing still.”
When the two of you stepped into the cabin, the door slid shut with a quiet click. Slowly, the ground began to fall away beneath you.
Silence settled between you — not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken thoughts.
“I’ve been wondering,” N said after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. “If someone like me… someone who believed so strongly in a world without trainers… deserves to stay connected to someone like you.”
He glanced at you then, eyes vulnerable in a way few ever saw.
“Every time I leave, I tell myself it’s better for you. That my path is different.” His fingers curled slightly against the seat. “But I always come back.”
The city lights reflected in the window beside him, turning his expression almost dreamlike.
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice trembling just enough to reveal his uncertainty. “What am I to you now? An old opponent… a friend… or something I don’t dare hope for?”
The cabin reached its highest point, suspended between sky and earth — between past and future.
Outside, the world felt distant.