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N didn’t go out of his way to find unhappy pokémon, he swore, their complaints just… happened to find his heart.
“He’s forgotten! I just know it!” An unfamiliar voice cried out. He stood in the middle of Pasio’s streets, sun beginning to set and crowds beginning to disperse. In the distance, he could hear whipping winds; it could be a flying-type flapping its wings or a ghost-type displacing the air. It was coming from a nearby alley. “He’s forgotten all about me—all about us! He’s gonna disappear again! And not come back this time!”
He couldn’t help but approach, heart aching for the poor, anxious pokémon. When N stumbled into the alley and saw the prince of Pasio’s pokémon, he felt… more shocked than he expected to be. Maybe, if he’d never spoken with Lear before he would have expected it of someone with his power… but he had. Lear loved his pokémon deeply, Hoopa especially, and they loved him equally. Even if the prince couldn’t use a sync stone with any of his pokémon besides the mythical, it didn’t mean he didn’t care. It didn’t mean he didn’t treat them like family.
“What did Lear forget?” N asked. Hoopa froze before flipping upside down to look at him. Its worries cast off it in waves, and all he had to do was look at them in order to identify their source. N had no need for hooks or spears.
“You!” it exclaimed, immediately flying closer to him. Hoopa stared at him for a moment before grinning. “You can understand me! You’ll help me!”
He nodded without hesitation. “Of course I’ll help you, Hoopa. Tell me what he did.”
“He forgot our day! Our special day.” Hoopa looked miserable in its explanation, face elongating into an exaggerated frown. Its disembodied hands floated away from its body. N smiled at the pokémon; as he had with hundreds of friends before this one. “He always makes a huge party of it, planning everything and giving me treats and letting me have whatever I want… but… he hasn’t done any of that.”
N hummed his acknowledgement of Hoopa’s problem. “You don’t want to ask him if he remembers?”
“Of course not! If he’s forgotten, then he’s a bad friend!” In spite of its dour words, Hoopa was grinning. “He taught me that, ya know! There’s three rules to being a good friend: you protect them from people who wanna hurt ‘em, you always be there for them when they’re sad, and you always remember their Friendaversary!” it giggled. “But, just ‘cause he’s a bad friend doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends. He used to be really mean… but after he saved me from people who were hurting me, he stopped being like that. I just had to wait it out.”
Hoopa stared through N, frowning intensely. For an instant, he was reminded of Hoopa’s power. Reshiram’s cold gaze was quite similar to the one the mythical being held now. After a few seconds, it smiled, and the thought disappeared.
“But! I can’t wait this out, so…” Hoopa smiled sheepishly. “Can you ask him for me? If he’s got anything planned, not… anything specific. Cause if he doesn’t…” it laughed. “Oh, he’ll be furious.”
N laughed with it, a soft sound undermined by the mythical’s own. “Of course I’ll help.”
Hoopa asked three times to teleport him to Lear’s villa, but he refused every one. N knew of the pokémon’s penchant for mischief. He’d witnessed some of its pranks, both on Lear and unsuspecting tourists, and even laughed at quite a few of them, yet refused to allow it to make a joke out of himself.
N hadn’t had a chance to properly meet the other prince yet. The last thing he wanted to do was make a bad first impression.
He’d heard stories of him from Cheren and Hilbert, seen clips of his battles on television screens, and now seen Hoopa’s affection for him. Lear seemed to be growing as a person more each day—empathy and kindness blooming like reticent vines on a sun-starved plant.
If he wanted to have a good first impression, what would it require?
Obviously, he couldn’t allow Hoopa to teleport him into whatever room Lear currently inhabited. The front door would be the correct answer; would his staff allow N entry? He’d heard of them turning away suspicious individuals before. With Hoopa by his side, perhaps that part of the equation could be canceled out. Which only left a few more variables…
The constant: Lear. The power over it: his emotions. The x variable: his memory. The y variable: his staff’s memory.
If Lear didn’t remember their Friendaversary, then that would give N an opportunity to orchestrate his own celebration for them. It could be a perfect first impression, illustrating how much attention N had paid to the man and showcasing his own skills. A good basis for friendship!
N arrived at Lear’s villa with a plan in mind and a mythical pokémon flying in wind-whipping circles around him.
“Please just let me teleport you there! I promise he’s not talking to anyone, just doing boring papers. Probably staring out the window, waiting for me to show up and make his day.” Hoopa didn’t even laugh at its own joke. “You’re so boring. But, you’re doing me a favor…”
N knocked on the grand door—much taller than himself which came as a surprise—and waited a handful of moments before someone opened it. He was refined and in a fitted suit. Stars decorated their outfit, subtle but noticeable to those who’d seen Lear’s obsession with them. He’d put them in the landscapes (literally) and designs of every aspect of Pasio; N supposed he would do the same with his own obsessions.
“I’m here to see Prince Lear,” N requested. Hoopa floated behind his shoulder, surely glowering. “Is he busy?”
The guard hesitated only for a moment before saying, “Yes… he’s in a meeting right now. But, if you’d be willing to wait, you could speak to him after—or schedule an appointment?” Hoopa groaned and lifted one of its hoops off of its horns. In an instant, all professionalism left the man’s body, and N was left to watch him barter. “Please don’t do that, Hoopa! I can get you a treat if you’d like? Donuts?”
“Yes!” Hoopa cheered. “Yes! Yes! Donuts!”
It was only due to practice that N didn’t laugh. With all the politeness of a prince, he followed his guide to an open room decorated with two stiff couches. He sat on one and felt the back attempting to create new pains in his spine. It was an interesting design; Lear either didn’t care about the specifics of his villa and whether or not they were comfortable… or he really didn’t want anyone waiting to speak to him.
“Is he always this busy?” N’s voice echoed feebly in the empty chamber. Hoopa had finished its treat a while ago, now it laid curled up in his lap—likely suffering a sugar crash.
“Yeah,” Hoopa complained. “He’s always talking to people, or locked up in his office. Never has time to play with me.”
“A shame…”
N rolled the idea over in his head. It had always been difficult for him to understand people; the way they hurt pokémon without a care, the way they hurt each other without a care… its purpose eluded him. Lear was on similar ground as him, at least. He knew what the life of a prince was like: loneliness so all-encompassing he didn’t even know how much he craved it. N’s friends had healed that wound inside of him.
Had Cheren healed Lear’s?
The question echoed in his mind while he waited, and when the door finally opened, N felt resolute.
“Oh. That’s where you’ve been.” Hoopa flew from his lap in the blink of an eye, abandoning N to hover in front of its friend. Lear only had eyes for it. “Did you have fun? Have you eaten yet?”
It chattered its responses, laughing with a man who couldn’t understand its jokes. Yet, Lear smiled regardless.
In the interim, N analyzed the prince. He looked perfect: clothes pressed and tight, skin flawless, like the epitome of all N had been raised to be. Yet, his body revealed his weaknesses. His smile drew tight lines over his skin; it was unbending and uncompromising, as if it had never gone through the motions before.
“What are you here for?” Lear asked, no longer smiling. His hands gripped his hips as he looked down at N.
The Unovan crossed his ankles and looked up at Lear. His visage reflected off of the prince’s glasses; warm, welcome eyes overlaid atop of an antagonistic frown. “I’m here for you.”
“What?”
“Ah.” N laughed airily as if it would wave away his social failings; Lear’s frown deepened. “Hoopa and I were speaking, and it made a request of me: to ask you a question.”
“Well? Spit it out, then. I don’t have all day, you know.”
N placed his palms behind him so he could lean forward, gazing up at Lear. The prince recoiled and kept a firm distance between them. N kept an amicable smile plastered over his face—if it worked to calm wild pokémon, why wouldn’t it work to calm a wild prince? “Are you busy in three days?”
“I—of course I am! I’m always busy!” Lear huffed… he was in such a tizzy. N kept his snicker to himself, knowing the prince would only find cruelty in the sound. He was like an abused animal yelping—they were incompatible, inequal, unfit to be in each other’s orbit. “What? You want to plan an event with that short of notice?” Lear, apparently, did not hold his reservations for mocking laughter because he did so and quite loudly. “You must be stupid.”
“Cheren’s spoken to me about you before,” N commented idly. Lear’s laughter lulled as his incisors were revealed with drawn-back lips. It looked oddly like a Zorua’s snarl, and the familiar sight made warmth settle in his ribcage. “He said you’ve grown into a fine prince… one worthy of being his fr—”
“How do you know Cheren?!” Lear demanded. He crossed his arms over his chest tight and glowered down at N. “He’s never told me about you.”
“I’m sure you never asked.” The prince’s hands spasmed and clutched onto his opposing arm, tight like an aggravated pokémon’s jaw. His nails and teeth were not so sharp as theirs, yet his words were less understandable than those of N’s friends. “Regardless, what would it take to gain your permission?”
Lear threw his head back in what seemed to be a dramatic eye-roll. “Just don’t cause me any issues, and you can host whatever you want. I’m sure you’re aware you won’t be able to do much of anything before then?” He laughed mockingly; N let it run over his back as easily as a scared pokémon’s growls. They were the same thing, after all. “Advertisements are already paid for the month, and I’m sure you don’t have enough to afford them.”
The two of them sat in the soiled air for a few moments, not even Hoopa trying to lighten it. Lear’s smirk fell into a scowl then faded into a neutral expression.
“Regardless… just…” Lear began haltingly. The prince’s attitude seemed to fall away like a crumbling cliff. “Don’t bother me about this anymore. I don’t have time to worry about stupid people’s stupid plans.”
N huffed out a sigh. “And what if I wanted to invite you to it?”
Lear’s scowl returned with intensity, slashing lines over his countenance and betraying his exhaustion. So that was why he’d forgotten something so important to him. A solution to an equation he hadn’t been searching for; it could be useful, though, so N tucked it away. He opened his mouth with lips forming an ‘o’ shape. Before he could utter the words, Hoopa flew in front of him with a pleading expression.
“You… want to go?” Lear asked it with a tone N couldn’t parse. It walked the tightrope of delicacy and annoyance. He sounded like he loved Hoopa—very much.
“It does,” N assured him. Hoopa turned to him and grinned. It flew in a circle around his seated form, crying out ceaseless agreements which its friend wouldn’t understand. “I can understand them, Lear. Cheren could tell you so… if you asked.”
Lear glared down at him with drawn-back lips. “You Unovans are all so weird.”
N smiled. “Will you come?”
“Whatever. Fine. If Hoopa wants to, then I guess I’ll find time!” Lear stomped away back to the door of his office; an appointment to catch? He turned to look at Hoopa—who hadn’t followed him—and pointed at it. “You! Be back by dinner time, and eat something. I know you forgot to eat a real lunch.”
And then he slammed the door shut.
“He’s right…” Hoopa pouted, face pointed toward the ground and hands hanging uselessly in the air. “I did forget to eat.”
N’s original plan had been to begin preparations immediately, but he delayed them to eat lunch with Hoopa. It had suggested a few different places to eat—though they were all shops for sweets and other pastries. For a time, he’d considered going inside and having a snack there himself, though Hoopa would likely pout over his neglect of it. N had no desire to incite the prince’s wrath.
They settled in a brunch location, and both sat down at a table fit for four. He’d only been here once himself, and only by the request of a close friend. N swept his gaze over the menu.
“What do you like?” N asked the mythical. He scanned the breakfast options instead of lunch; an assumed preference. “Since you enjoy donuts so much, I presumed you’d like to eat like this as well instead of having pokéfood. You could have eggs, waffles, pancakes…” he continued to list the various options and combinations.
“I think I’ve had eggs before… yeah! Lear gave me this egg that had a golden liquid running all over it, and it was delicious! There was meat scattered on top of it! It was really sweet!” Hoopa exclaimed. It grinned and its body drifted subtly through the air, though it didn’t move far enough from its seat to ruin the illusion of being a true customer. “Can I get that? Pretty please?”
“Of course, I’ll get you anything you want.” N couldn’t hold back a smile in the wake of the pokémon’s behavior; it reminded him of so many different friends. “That sounds like a sunny-side-up egg… or another kind of fried egg. Hm… Lear has been treating you well, hasn’t he?”
“Of course he has!” Hoopa didn’t hesitate. That was good. “I’m his best friend, of course he’s giving me everything I could ever want! Just like I’m giving him everything he could ever want.”
“What does he want the most, then?” N asked as he leafed through more of the menu—surely only an egg wouldn’t be enough for Hoopa.
“I… ah, I can’t give him that.” In the corner of his vision, he watched Hoopa lower itself to lay its head onto the table. “He wants someone very important to him back in his life, but I can’t bring people back from the dead.”
Sausage, meat patty, back from the dead, N thought before stopping completely. Back from the…
“But! The thing he wants second-most is for everyone to think he’s awesome,” Hoopa laughed somberly, pulling its head back to meet his shocked gaze. “But, he is already. He’s always been the coolest person in my life. It’s really easy to make that wish of his come true… what’s your wish?”
“My wish is for everyone to understand my friends the way I can, and for no one to ever hurt them again.”
“Lame!” Hoopa shot up back in its seat and stuck its tongue out. “You should wish for wings, or to fly, it would be a lot better.”
Lear can wish to have someone he lost back in his life, but I can’t wish for my friends to live a happy life? N was tempted to argue with the little pokémon, to argue and state facts upon facts—however, he knew Hoopa was widely known as a trickster. It would probably say similarly inane things for however long he chose to conversate with it.
Thankfully, before he could give into his worst traits, his savior arrived.
“Is it too late for me to order something?” Cheren asked, sitting next to Hoopa and putting down his things with a warm smile. The mythical turned to him and grinned, abandoning its seat to fly a circle around the teacher. “Hi, Hoopa.”
“Hi, Cheren!” Hoopa giggled. “I haven’t seen you! How are you? And Lear? He’s been ignoring me, you know! He forgot our special day, so we’re making our own party for him! Do you want to join us? Please? I know you’d make him smile, and make him happy, and I want him to be happy so bad, so please, please come!”
N sighed. “Hoopa’s asking you to help us with Lear’s party.”
“Then, it’s a good thing I already agreed to help, isn’t it?” Cheren’s smile was a subtle thing, though not guarded beneath a frown like Lear’s. It wasn’t so much a twist of his lips as a coloring of his eyes. “Have you asked Rachel and Sawyer for help?” N tilted his head, though his friend continued on before he could ask any questions. “They’re Lear’s retainers, and very close friends. Or something like family… I’m not really sure. But, if you tell them you’re planning this party for Lear, then they’ll give you everything you need to make it something wonderful.”
Rachel and Sawyer, N repeated to himself to try and burn the names into his mind. “How would I find them?”
“Ah, I can just…” Cheren pulled out his Poryphone and swiped his finger across it a few times. “Send them a message. Alright, I told Rachel you’d like to talk to them, so they’ll probably find you soon enough. What should I order?”
The two of them chatted amicably for the next few minutes, debating the virtues of eggs and toast. Cheren had far stronger opinions about breakfast foods than N had expected. Based on that, he allowed his own opinions to be swayed: they ordered the same thing. The teacher described it as “one of the few luxuries” he allowed himself—a combination meal of scrambled eggs, toast, and French toast. Hoopa got an order of sunny-side-up eggs and sausage
“What does Lear like?” N asked them both.
Hoopa reacted first. “He likes shiny things! And being strong! He especially likes being strong in front of everybody else!”
Once N nodded and explained what the pokémon had said, Cheren spoke his part. “Lear would like an event where he could show off his bond with Hoopa. He loves attention, so an event where he could freely soak it all in without needing to worry about putting the spotlight on someone else would make him happy, I think.”
“He likes attention?” N couldn’t help but be skeptical; Lear had only seemed to want to escape him in their previous interaction. “All I’ve heard is about him holing himself up in his office and avoiding attention.”
Cheren laughed. “He’s weak for attention, which means he doesn’t always allow himself to seek it out. I had to spend weeks chasing him down, if you remember. He’ll avoid forming bonds with people for as long as he thinks he can manage, but once he’s past that hurdle he’s…” He smiled into his palm, and N noted his face was an odd shade of pink. Cheren cleared his throat. “As I said, he’s weak for it. You could host a public event where he can show off… he’d love that.”
N dipped his head low in acknowledgment. “Thank you. You’re close to him, right? You know about his… other close ones. Can you give me a list of people to invite personally?”
“Of course! Rachel and Sawyer already know, so… the next people to ask are Scottie and Bettie. They’re the champions of the PML and were Lear’s rivals; they’re pretty close because of that, even if they don’t talk too often anymore.” Cheren drummed his fingers on top of the table. “He’s also friends with Professor Bellis, and Red would probably come if he thought he could battle against Lear. They don’t show it, but they’ve got a pretty intense rivalry even if it’s cooled down since the PML. The former Team Break members that Lear recruited would probably also love to come. And then… I think the only other person I’ve seen him talk much with is Cynthia, the Champion of Sinnoh.”
“He’s popular.” N rummaged the idea of a joke from the corners of his mind; it felt like stretching an unused muscle. “Lear loves champions, doesn’t he? I suppose he’d love me.”
Cheren choked on whatever words he’d been thinking, face falling into his palm to hold back his laughter. “He likes people who are strong battlers… whether they have championship titles or not.”
“Ah… you know from experience?”
His friend reacted physically—face closing off, shoulders pulling back—but before he could voice his reaction, Hoopa interrupted. “You forgot about Krookodile and Staraptor and Donphan! N! He’s a fake friend! Uninvite him!”
N didn’t react. “Is something wrong, Cheren?”
“N!” the pokémon continued to complain. “Don’t ignore me!”
“Don’t tell Lear that you picked up on that, please,” Cheren requested with a soft tone. It sounded discordant to the man he knew. “He likes to keep the things he loves private—away from the public’s eye.” A quick, ironic shrug. “Or, away from his father. Regardless, we try to keep it a secret. Did you see something? How’d you find out?”
“It’s obvious you love him… from the way you talk about him.” N hadn’t realized it had been a secret, but there was no reason to tell Cheren that now. “But… what were you saying, Hoopa?”
The mythical was pouting. It crossed its arms and stuck out its tongue; like pokémon, like trainer. “You heard me.”
N sighed and looked back toward Cheren who seemed to have picked up on his plight. His eyes were on the small pokémon and its temper tantrum, watching with clear amusement as it huffed and puffed. It looked like a baby pokémon pretending to be its parent, not a powerful creature in its own right.
Hoopa was very expressive; was this due to its bond with a trainer who couldn’t understand it, or had it always worn its emotions on its sleeve? If it was an adaptation for Lear, then it could be a fascinating development. He’d never seen a mythical or legendary pokémon change themselves for a trainer—save for Reshiram and Zekrom, though their changes were an instinctual part of them. Hoopa wouldn’t change into a stone when Lear died.
“Hoopa,” N began. He was ready to issue an apology, but before he could Cheren’s head whipped to face him. He looked panicked—out of character for the normally stoic teacher. Such an expression forced him to change his trajectory. “Cheren?”
“Watch out!” Cheren warned, but N didn’t know what the warning was for until it was too late. Something cold and solid slammed into his skull. His neck crumpled under the pressure and sent his head flying toward the table; it was only due to extensive experience with pokémon that he was able to catch himself with his forearm. “Hoopa! Why did you do that?!”
Whatever had hit him (whatever Hoopa had summoned?) slipped off of his head and hit the ground, and the echoing reverberations filled the restaurant. For a moment, there was silence. N hadn’t realized how loud it had been inside until it was gone. His eyes slid over the surface of the table down to the floor… where a metal pot sat innocent and silent, as if unaware of the pain it caused him.
Their waiter walked up to them. “Sir? Are you alright?”
N lifted his head up, holding back a grimace. His fingers twined into his hair and pressed against his sensitive skull. “Of course. My friends would never hurt me…”
“If you say so, sir.” They moved quicker than he could follow with eyes alone, walking behind him and grabbing the pot. “Huh, I don’t believe this is from our kitchen…”
They carried it away—out of sight, out of mind… hopefully the pain would follow in its originator’s wake.
“Hoopa, don’t drop things on people!” Cheren scolded the creature, though it didn’t look particularly admonished. “You could’ve hurt him. N, you’re sure you’re alright?”
“Of course. I suspect I only have a headache, which will disappear in time…” N closed his eyes and attempted to will away the pain—unsuccessfully. When they reopened, he found Hoopa staring at him; emerald eyes cold and unfeeling, yet a heart resonating with unsettled disappointment. “Hoopa…”
He didn’t need to voice his question, it seemed. The mythical already had its answer prepared.
“Lear would’ve caught it. It’s our game… I guess you’re just not good at playing.”
N nodded slowly, barely managing to keep his eyes open for the whole movement. A dull ache pounded against the back of his eyes. “I suppose I’m not.”
They made more plans for the party, discussing the specifics of food and drink and location until the sun threatened to disappear. N and Cheren both walked Hoopa back to Lear’s villa, but the gym leader was the only one to go inside. N went home and nursed his aching head.
When the pain faded at last, the moon was high in the sky and he’d forgotten to eat dinner. N walked out to the beach in the hopes to find a shortcut to the main path back to Centra City… hopefully without running into any people.
The moon reflected off of the ocean. Stars dotted the night sky, vibrant in a way they hadn’t been in Unova. Purple streaks of the Milky Way colored the sand and guided N’s way. It was… nice. He appreciated the company of people and pokémon, of course he did, but these rare moments where he was allowed to be alone with the world were divine. It reminded him of his time traveling with the legendary pokémon of Unova.
His feet dragged on the sand as if he didn’t have the energy for full strides. His gaze cast over the sea, slow and appreciative, as he walked. Amidst his wandering walk, N caught a glimpse of another soul by the seaside.
In the dim light, he couldn’t make out anything of them. They were human, obviously, and there seemed to be a pokémon near them. The pokémon was small and almost fully invisible from the distance, but the slow up-and-down bobbing of the creature begets it as a living being. The person was laid down in the sand, only the contours of their hair revealing them.
A part of him—raised on the worries of his friends, one who had seen far too many instances of an incapacitated trainer and helpless pokémon—looked upon the scene with a piercing pain in his ribcage.
It… couldn’t hurt to check.
He lifted his feet into a proper walk, though the sand fought him in every instance. N had always found it difficult to traverse the beaches of Pasio; in spite of their artificial nature, the sand supposedly acted the same as the real thing—it sank every footstep too deep. Walking had to be done carefully and with skill which N did not possess.
When he walked up to the duo’s side, it was with a stumbling gait and apologies on tip of his tongue.
“Leave me alone, Rachel,” a familiar prickly voice said. His words were phrased as a demand yet lacked any of the heat required. “I’ll get back home on my own. You don’t need to hover.”
Lear sat on the edge of the beach. His legs stretched out in front of him, having formed an indent in the sand around him. His clothes were dark in the night sky; they should be brighter, N couldn’t help but think. Hadn’t they been bright white last he saw them? Or were they black?
He should have paid more attention…
N pondered over his choices for a response—a simple greeting could suffice, but being polite had only facilitated aggression, thus a joke could be used to diffuse the already tense air. But, what specific order of words would be most effective on the high-strung prince?
As various terms cascaded over his tongue and died upon his teeth, his gaze shifted from the prince’s back to the pokémon hovering in front of him. Hoopa refused to look him in the eyes. Instead, it held its hands in a mimicry of its trainers’ crossed arms and stared at the sand. Shame cascaded off of it in waves not dissimilar to that of the ocean.
“What did you have for dinner?” N asked.
“Wh— you!” Lear recoiled as he turned to face him. The faint glow lit up his profile, drawing attention to his cheekbones. His shades reflected the glow readily though it was hardly strong enough to distract. The prince looked ready for a fight, though he didn’t stand from the sand. “What are you doing here?”
A wave pushed up over the shore and crawled across Lear’s lap; he didn’t look away from N. What would he look like when his surprise was unveiled? Would his mouth twist into this same frown before smoothing out into a neutral expression?
“I was worried you were being swept out to sea…” N murmured. A faint wind jostled his hair, and he resisted the sudden urge to sit down beside Lear. The sand looked eerily comfortable around the prince. “I suppose I was incorrect. Would you like me to leave?”
“I don’t care what you do.” Lear turned back to the ocean, tearing his visage away from N’s view. He leaned back onto his elbows—solely to keep his head from going underneath waves, he presumed. “Just… don’t talk to me. I’m tired.”
N hummed an affirmation. A wave came in and out, in and out, in and out. Lear’s breathing was the loudest sound outside of the ocean. He took hesitant steps to the side of the prince, digging his heels into malleable sand to create a hollow for himself. When he sat down inside of it, Hoopa floated over to him.
“We had some kind of dessert, it was really sweet and good. He let me eat the whole thing,” Hoopa informed him in a quiet murmur as if Lear would understand what it was saying. Its friend didn’t give so much as a twitch. “He said he’s really worried about something… but wouldn’t explain what.”
In comparison to this morning, Hoopa seemed like a different being entirely. Though its lack of an apology cemented the fact that it was, indeed, the same pokémon who’d dropped a pan on his head. N repressed the urge to ask for an apology, knowing it would only annoy Lear to hear him speak. Better to just… allow Hoopa to ramble on.
“It probably has something to do with his father… so annoying! He always finds some way to stop Lear from playing games with me, even from so far away. Do you have any ideas on getting people like that to leave the ones you like alone? I’ve dropped stuff on him before and teleported him far away from my friend, yet… he just keeps coming back. Lear always tells me to behave, but behaving just makes him end up more miserable…” It wilted like a dying flower, but a flicker of hope brought life back to its petals. “Hopefully, our party will cheer him up.”
N nodded half-heartedly, attention on the waves drifting toward him. They rose up like a quadruped onto two legs, intimidating yet short-lived. Only the soft embrace of the ocean met him; the violence of it seemed to be neutered by the shore.
Hoopa frowned at him—its pout now familiar. Like a feather falling from a Pidove, it lowered itself slowly toward him. With its horns angled toward him, the mythical pokémon tucked itself into his chest. The sharp points dug into his torso painfully, though it was no different than the insistent paws of Zorua. His arms lifted and cocooned the small pokémon.
For once, Hoopa was silent. The ocean dove toward them; N’s arms suffered their soft strike, keeping the mischievous pokémon dry. Its short puffs of air were barely noticeable through his clothing. He wondered… if in his place, would someone else notice details even he couldn’t? Even if they couldn’t understand the exact words or emotion behind Hoopa’s heart?
His gaze flicked to his side.
Lear’s body was soaked in seawater from the chest down. His gray clothes held onto his skin with a human desperation; the contours of his ribcage were hidden beneath the layers of his clothing, but N could easily watch the filling and emptying of his lungs through his stomach. When that pattern broke, he couldn’t resist the temptation to look up at the prince’s face.
He was scowling at the two of them. “Stop that.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to speak?” N couldn’t help but tease. Lear’s hands dug into the submersed sand, likely compelling the small particles to collect in his gloves. He seemed to sink even further into the beach. “Lear… why are you out here?”
“Let go of Hoopa… it’ll get annoyed and summon something above you. Probably drop a ton of seawater on you,” the prince’s voice was distant though his eyes seemed fixated on the two of them. Or… at least he was facing them. “Then, it’ll just be another problem for me to fix…”
Lear’s body was at an awkward angle, nearly every part of him laid deep in the sand and accepting the pull of waves—save for his tense shoulders keeping his head out of its grasp. However, as they continued to stare at each other, his head lulled back as if drawn to the waves with a gravity all his own.
“Lear?” N barely spoke louder than a murmur.
The prince’s head canted toward him. His teeth shone as he pulled his lips back to speak, the sound and visual compounding into a threatening tone. How fascinating. “What.”
“You’re tired, aren’t you?”
“No!” He lurched forward though nothing was accomplished with the motion, not even a hand slipped from sand. Another wave consumed Lear’s body. A splash hit his face and left a splatter of water on his shades, and left him spluttering for words. “Augh. I’m wide awake! This is just… stress relief! And experiencing the fruits of my labor!”
Lear smirked with fake pride; his shoulders crackled under the pressure and dropped him even lower. N did not laugh at his plight. The prince’s expression of embarrassment inferred that he had, but N assured himself that no such sound had filled the air.
“You can barely keep your head up, are you certain you should be tempting fate?” Hoopa tilted itself around in his grip to look at its friend. “You know, there are quite a few instances in literature of royalty being undone by the very land which they rule. It would be quite the metaphor if the very oceans you built this island on—”
“Are you threatening me?” Lear’s voice was not clipped with aggression, but rather suffocated by exhaustion.
“No.” N smiled. “Don’t you remember? I want to be your friend.”
Lear was quiet. More waves crashed into his body, seeming to double, quadruple his tiredness. His head was leaned back fully; the back of his hair growing wet. A low hum echoed through his throat. N watched him swallow air before opening his lips to speak.
“You never said that… before.”
“About my interest in your friendship?” N specified. A frown marred his expression, likely removing whatever amicable expression he’d worn before. “I thought it was quite obvious.”
Lear seemed to think the opposite, though he didn’t vocalize his dissent. The ocean reached up and surrounded the prince in a parody of an embrace. N watched a stuttering exhale leave Lear’s chest; before he could discover if it solidified into anger or exhaustion, he stood to his feet. His shoes and pants seemed to be ruined. Even his socks squelched with water when he took a step.
“You don’t have to believe me,” N said. Lear sat up to glare at him. “Come to the party, and… I’ll prove it to you. I just have one question for you.” He walked to stand in front of the prince, then crouched to be on his level. “Who’s your best friend?”
Lear lifted one of his buried legs and slammed his foot against N’s chest, pushing him backward into the sand. Unfortunately for him, it was as the tide rolled in. Saltwater dove around him in a cruel embrace. N hadn’t been exposed to such a thing before—Unovan oceans were rare, and he’d only ever seen them from afar. For the most part, he’d only interacted with calm lakes and unassuming ponds.
The ocean wanted him dead. The taste bled into his skin even with a tight seal over his mouth, and his eyes stung painfully. It felt similar to the feeling of swimming in chlorinated water with his eyes open, but he wasn’t doing anything as stupid as that right now. Even the movement of the water was stronger than he expected as it shoved him further inland—then, after a moment where he managed to get his knees under him and throw his head up to gasp for air, tug him back toward the open sea.
When N managed to get his feet under him and began to shake the saltwater from his hair, Lear was already walking away. Strands hugged his chin in an unfortunately vivid hold. He felt it against his skin as he spoke, a final attempt at connection for the night.
“Lear!” Said prince did not stop his gait, though Hoopa did stop to acknowledge him. It grinned, likely withholding its laughter. “That was rude." With a smile, he continued, “I hope you’re able to sleep well.”
The two of them walked through one of Hoopa’s portals, likely back to Lear’s villa. N rose his hands to his hair and began to squeeze the water from it with a smile.
The two of them were very similar. With that knowledge… he knew exactly how to make a perfect party for them.