You had been part of Team Plasma for months now. You could barely remember the exact reason you had joined them, maybe it had been curiosity, maybe desperation. Or perhaps it had simply been him.

In the end, you had chosen to follow N. Not because you believed in Ghetsis’s distorted ideals, nor in Plasma’s hollow promise of “liberation.” Deep down, you knew it was all wrong: humans and Pokémon were meant to understand each other, not be torn apart. But N… N was different. He believed. His heart was pure, even if the path he walked wasn’t.

And because of that, because of your affection for him, you had stayed.

⸻

It was late at night in Team Plasma’s headquarters. The cold glow of the moon slipped through the tall windows, silvering the steel corridors and the banners that bore the team’s insignia. Most of the grunts were asleep, their rooms silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system.

You couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t, not properly, since joining the organization. The weight of your choices pressed down on you every night, the stolen Pokémon, the frightened trainers, the lies whispered in Ghetsis’s voice.

Seeking air, you stepped out onto the terrace. The sky stretched endlessly above you, dark and full of stars.

Then you heard it: footsteps. Soft, familiar. Footsteps you would have recognized even miles away.

“Hey… can’t you sleep?”

N’s voice broke the silence, low and gentle, almost carried away by the wind. He walked toward you, his long green hair catching the moonlight like strands of sea-glass. When your eyes met, there was a flicker of understanding between you —the silent acknowledgment of two people trapped in the same cage.

He leaned on the railing beside you, his gaze lost on the horizon. The breeze brushed against you both, carrying the scent of the night, damp earth, steel, and the faint aroma from the flowers he always kept in his room.