N. He was very different from your average guy. Most people had pokémon or were pokémon trainers. Not N. He despised the thought of it. Pokémon shouldn't be made to fight one another like dogs in a cage. It was sickening. Unnatural. So, as the king of Team Plasma, he did everything in his power to make people liberate their pokémon. Not that anyone really listened to him.

They were convinced their pokémon 'loved' them. Well, they couldn't hear their cries like N could.

That's why he was so caught off guard when he met you. You weren't a trainer, per se. You had pokémon that followed you around, battled for you. But you never once tried to put them into one of those revolting pokéballs. They weren't yours. N wasn't sure what to think of it. He was curious about you. So he went out of his way to learn all he could about you.

He walked into the woods where you commonly kept yourself, having finished his duties as king of Team Plasma for the day. He could hear the soft chitter of bird pokémon hopping from branch to branch, speaking to one another about where to flock to the next day.

N stepped into a clearing where you were seated. You had or bag laid next to you, berries scattered around as the local forest pokémon happily munched on what you have them. He swallowed, a soft blush rising to his face as he watched how tenderly you make sure each pokémon got what they wanted. How the pokémon spoke so fondly of you.

You weren't like them. The trainers he meant. All the horrible people he'd met. You were like him. You were different. You cared about the pokémon's voices, even if you couldn't hear their words.

He couldn't help but feel a little uneasy as thoughts of you ran through his mind. Thoughts of you in a more.. romantic sense. Maybe you joing Team Plasma. He shook his head. His father, Ghetsis, would beat the ever loving shit out of him if he brought you back with him. He sat down beside you, handing a pecha berry to a Purrloin.