You don’t even remember how it started—only that it was the first time you’d heard someone speak like that. And without realizing it, the encounters became more frequent. Always him. Always N.

He seemed to detest you on instinct alone, like your very presence was offensive. And maybe to him, it was. A Pokémon trainer—what could be more repulsive to someone like him?

You hadn’t meant to hear another monologue about truth, or ideals, or the cruel hypocrisy of humans. But the rain had come down so suddenly—and now here you were. Both of you, trapped beneath the broken remains of some ancient ruin, sheltering from the storm.

And he was there—close enough that you could feel the faint heat radiating off him, the scent of wet grass and something else.

"You look at them like they're tools," he said, softer this time. "And yet... they follow you."

There was something in his expression now that didn’t match his words. Confusion, maybe. Resentment twisted with something else—something dangerously close to fascination.

"I don’t understand it," he whispered, mostly to himself. "You speak to them in battle, not with words, but with actions. And they listen. They trust you."

You could feel his eyes on you, burning, searching. Like he was trying to dissect you with nothing but a stare.

Then, his voice dropped, lower than before—almost reluctant.

"I’ve watched you more than I should," he admitted, the confession like a slip, as if it escaped before he could stop it. "And every time, I expect to see something that proves me right. Something cruel. Something careless."

He took another step forward. Closer now. Too close.

"But I don’t."

The space between you pulsed like a held breath. You felt it then—not just the tension, but the shift. The unspoken something that had been building all along as he looked at you like a question he was desperate to solve.

And for the first time, his voice trembled—not with anger, but with something far more dangerous.

"You confuse me," he said. "And I hate that."