Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The day Touya kisses N, it is, in large part, unplanned. 

Touya has imagined it before. In a hundred different places, a million different times. At the top of the Rondez-View, or in his childhood bedroom. At an Alolan beach, a Sinnohian mountain pass, during a Johtoan autumn or a Kanto summer. Around a campfire, or in his tent, if they’d happen to meet on the road. The spring afternoon they met in Accumula town, if time travel was on the table and if Touya thinks about it too much.

When the time comes, it’s none of those. It’s a chilly day at the end of winter, snow puddles melting on the throne room floor of Team Plasma’s castle, nearly eight years after Touya had sunk it into the mountainside. It’s Thursday. N has made tea, and Touya can hear the sounds of the two-dozen odd Pokémon N keeps milling about the halls. Touya’s own Volcarona perches atop his shoulder, clicking and chittering contentedly.

It is nothing they haven’t done a hundred times before. There is nothing about this day in particular that compels Touya to throw seven unfortunate years of suppressed longing at him, and yet, today is the day it finally happens. 

N hands Touya his tea. It’s another floral blend; they’ve been N’s favorite lately, the varied steeping methods his fixation of the moment. N gets fascinated by the smallest of things— and the fondness of the thought bodies Touya right there in the middle of N’s explanation of the benefits of boiling cheri berry blossoms in the water directly as opposed to in a satchel. But it's the achingly familiar twisting of the bangles around his wrist as he speaks that sends Touya over the point of no return. 

Before he realizes it, he’s reaching out and grabbing his arm.

N trails off, glancing down at Touya. Smiles as he asks, “What is it?”

Touya doesn’t respond. Instead he drags N down to his level, and presses their lips together.

The kiss doesn’t last long. Touya starts panicking approximately three seconds in when N doesn’t react at all, pressing harder, closer, desperate for him to feel it, to understand. 

A few moments later, he pulls back, throat dry. N is still, mouth parted slightly in shock. But the rest of his expression is wiped clean. One of his fingers is still locked around a bracelet.

Touya removes his hands from N’s arms, but he still doesn’t move. Moments tick by, and Touya realizes with dawning horror what he has done. N’s expression is not blank— he is devastated. Like the very earth has been ripped from beneath him.

Touya knows that expression. He saw it seven years ago in this very room. 

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, stumbling to a standing. He hears Volcarona chittering in confusion, feels the beat of his flapping wings in concern. 

N’s eyes follow him as he goes, and then he blinks, broken from the stupor. “Touya…”

His voice is small, sad. He sounds so confused. Touya’s anxiety spikes higher. N is going to want to talk about this. N is going to need an explanation. He deserves one, but Touya doesn’t know if he can do that right now.

N never lacked words. He was always able to communicate so effortlessly where Touya had struggled, could put an entire conversation in just the way he said his name when Touya labored to even decipher his own thoughts half the time, let alone put them into anything resembling coherence.

And there’s nothing but static between his ears right now.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, the truest thing he has ever meant in all twenty-three years of his life.

And then Touya runs.

Touya had wanted to win. He truly had. To lose was unthinkable. To lose would mean the collapse of the world as they all knew it. 

He believed that want, all the way to the ledge. To the hole Reshiram had torn through that dark castle, and through which N would throw himself from with a smile on his face, as if he'd done Touya a favor. 

Reshiram's flare faded from the sky long before the burn of it from Touya's eyes, and faster still than the cut of green in the red wind. He’d stood there watching the spot where they had disappeared until Alder came to collect him when it was his turn for questioning.

In the subsequent days and months, he would come to realize an axis had flipped within him after that battle, an upheaval that would take years to parse out, and nearly a decade ahead of finding any sort of closure for. Touya, sixteen, Hero of Ideals and Savior of Unova, had no idea the course of events he’d set in motion.

But when the initial landslide settles, what emerges first and freshest from the rubble is disappointment. 

N once asked him if he had a dream. 

Touya lied when he said yes. 

For as different as everything is now, the climb never wears off on him. Taking those worn sandstone stairs, they feel as ancient as the Relic Castle and Touya knows they have seen more champions than Touya will live years and feels all the more humbled for it.

Standing in the vastness of the champion's chambers, though, pillars shattered and stone floors cracked, he sees it all as it had been in Alder's reign: perfunctory. Stationary. Left to rot with the title the former champion didn't want but somehow wouldn't seem to rid himself of. 

It is the opposite in every way, but it somehow reminds him of N's room. It's cramped, whimsical mania, as pressing as this dead air. The dust both places had collected, in neglect and avoidance by their masters. 

Touya is too tired to make anything of it. The money is better spent elsewhere anyways. Removing a castle from a mountain is a grueling task, even with Clay's expertise. There won’t be any new challengers with the state of Victory Road as it stands (or crumbles, rather) either. 

His rooms stay barren for the entirety of his championship. All eleven months of it.

Touya isn't a very good champion. 

Grimsely assures him it's not entirely his fault. Alder had neglected his duties for years, put the bulk of the governing on the Elite Four and disappeared into the wilderness like it might save him from the responsibility. Or grief. The disarray is to be expected. Nothing changes overnight. 

But more than anything, Touya is here. Touya is taking responsibility. No one doubted he would do the right thing; he saw his convictions through to the end. His black dragon attested that. 

He doesn't have Alder's charisma, N's devotion, Bianca’s heart or Cheren’s shrewd mind. But what he does have are his Pokémon, his friends, and the consequences of his chosen path. It was far from ideal, but Touya was nothing if not good at rolling with the punches. 

The Elite Four are indispensable. Grimsely advises him, counsels him through his rash decisions and talks him down from the ledge; Shauntal helps Touya write his speeches, Marshall trains him until he’s too exhausted for self-doubt, and Caitlin becomes a dear companion, her dry wit and nocturnal tendencies a match for his own. They guide him through those early months, shield him from the media when they can, do everything they can for the region and more as they have for years.

The first few are consumed by national appearances, reports, interviews, speeches. Touya has no skill for public speaking. He pushes through all the same. The world wants to know what happened here and Touya gives them the cleanest version he can; the faces of the Seven Sages become known the planet over, wanted by the International Police for their crimes. N’s gets featured less, but Touya’s stomach still twists every time it does.

Month four is a turning point. Victory road will be rerouted through the great chasm, connected with Humilau city. There is a movement to furnish a gym there. Touya will authorize it. A Plasma laboratory and safehouse will additionally be discovered off route 17, leading to a series of arrests, including a Sage. The other things found there, records of experimentation and torture and mysterious test subjects, will be too grim to release to the public. Touya doesn't hesitate to advise prosecuting for the highest possible sentences. 

Months five and six bring more change. Pokémon welfare groups dominate the news, and all the scandals that come with them; Touya still donates to any of them that come his way, which are most. An underground nightclub in a sleepy port town on the far side of the region gets its gym license next. Lenora retires and throws a party for the ages; Caitlin offers to be his plus one, and that night is one of the happiest in Touya's recent memory. 

Month seven will hurt. Somehow it wasn't before, but now the ache hits him. He's lost track of time and somehow it's already been half a year. The images are fresh. The loss is fresher. The want, more dire still. He thinks of what N would have done if he stayed and remained champion; wonders if he’d approve of what Touya has done. He realizes he might have never understood N at all when he can’t figure out an answer to either.

Eight feels like it begins too late and ends too soon. Touya’s mood doesn’t recover, and he realizes it's hardly moved at all in almost a year. He spends the month with boots on the ground, chasing down every lead he can on the whereabouts of the remaining Sages, scouring every resource and document he has for information on other safe houses. He finds four more Sages, at the cost of being absent from the league the entire time. Grimsley has handled all the paperwork again, and has nothing ill to say when he returns.

"So long as the effort was not wasted," he says, mannerly, rational. It’s all nothing he hasn’t had to do before.

Nine and ten will be a whirlwind. Bianca becomes Juniper's assistant. Cheren is studying for his teaching certification and aspires to become a gym leader. The Pokémon League reopens and brings a wave of new challengers unlike Touya had expected. Those that manage to make it to him all lose, but the rush dies fast. Battling was what Touya was good at, better than tests, or sports, or emotions or words, how he communicated with others when his voice failed him. But this abundance of connections does not make him feel better. They make him feel worse. He splits his time between the league and the ground, searching for those last two Sages, for anything that will tell him anything at all.

Month eleven starts with a revelation. Reports of his team, dissections of his strategies are known by now. The battles get harder, and still Touya doesn't lose. But the eyes are always on him, will follow wherever he goes and whatever he will do. Alder could disappear but Touya will never be able to with a black dragon at his back, Zekrom casting its shadow over him in all ways. He is no closer to finding his dream in an empty room at the top of the world than he was in his childhood home back in Nuvema town. 

By the end of the month, he's made up his mind. 

So when Iris shows up at his chambers, a year and a half older since the last time they met, a year and a half fiercer, he doesn't mind losing to her. 

Touya leaves with little fanfare. There’s basically nothing to remove from the champion’s quarters, and other than the letters he writes to each of the Four and his name in the Hall of Fame, Touya disappears as if he was never Champion in the first place.

And when he leaves Unova, it's only with his team and the bag at his side. 

Touya is seventeen, freshly dethroned, heartbroken like it means something, and richer than a third of the region combined. He doesn't tell anyone where he's going, because Touya himself didn't know yet. He's only thinking of a red blaze, a far off realization. Some damn peace and quiet. Zekrom is pleased to stretch its wings, and cries for the sky. 

He isn't there, a year later, when N returns. He doesn't know the months he wandered, the ways he'd changed. Isn't there when Team Plasma nearly freezes Unova solid, when N releases his dragon into the hands of a new hero. He doesn't know what the former Hero of Truth confesses to her. 

Touya isn't there, because he's everywhere else. 

He searches Johto and Kanto, wanders Hoenn as if it might unearth something within him. He’s okay about answering calls for a while, reporting back to his mother and friends of the sorts of places he’s been and the things he’s seeing. Kalos gets blazed through in a single blistering summer, and when he comes up for air, he finds himself twenty years old and feeling like he's been asleep for most of it. His old Xtransiever finally quits on him in Lumiose, and he buys a new one but rarely turns it on. 

Sinnoh for the following winter was a mistake, but the months of freeze made it easier to think. And made him all the more appreciative of the warmth in Alola, for the frankly absurd amount of time he spent there, so long that he nearly convinced himself that he'd given up. By this point, no one knows where he is. He hasn't answered a text or call in months. 

But Touya is still searching. Even here, in a hotel suite at the Hano Grand Resort, twenty-two years old after spending five going broke and getting lost. His sunburned legs tossed over the balcony railing, he can only remember what it felt like at the top of a Ferris Wheel, in the dark over all of Nimbasa as N had leaned in close and promised to destroy the world as they knew it. 

Alola is beautiful, lush and colorful, so close to what Touya could picture the King's perfect world to be. He could be happy here. He wouldn't need Touya, or Ghetsis, or anyone. He could exist peacefully, as he was meant to. He could thrive. Who was Touya to insert himself into that?

But the N Touya clings to isn't the king on a throne or the hero in a tower; it's the young man shrouded in neon. Pinks and blues from the roller coaster track. Yellow and gold in the glow of the Ferris wheel. A willow boy in a city of light, looking at it all not with derision but wonder. Touya is selfish. 

He was always selfish. 

It's a quarter after midnight, and he has no idea what that translates to in other time zones, but Touya charges his long dead Xtranseiver, and calls his mother for the first time in over a year.

For a very long time, Touya's biggest regret had been that he never found the words he’d wanted to say that day. 

Even there at the very end, standing on opposite sides of the room, dwarfed in the blaze of their dragons with no way out but through, N had used his words. He owed Touya nothing, had driven up those walls around his heart as high as his castle, and yet. And yet. 

I even liked you a little.

And then, at the ledge, leaned close and gave him that smile.

Farwell. 

Touya couldn't have stopped him from leaving if he'd tried. He knew that then, he knows it now. N's will was indomitable, and he'd wanted more from life than ruling over little rooms. Touya understood that well enough too, to the point he no longer wishes he could have convinced him to stay even if it had been possible. 

But N had left before Touya could even say anything. 

What he wishes he’d said is something beyond even him. He remembers his head pounding, sweat dripping from his face, being covered in dust and the ashes of Reshiram’s fusion flare. He couldn’t have convinced him to stay; but he could have said something. Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ruining your life, I think somewhere along the way I ruined mine a little too.

He could have wished him well.

Instead, Touya’s mind locked down around itself. And there was nothing to be said.

The Zoroark is his. Touya knows there is no other explanation. He would recognize it anywhere; the bangle in its hair knot— it's one of N's. 

This path is part of the old Victory Road, treacherous and steep away from the guardrails, passages still dormant and unexcavated from the time of his championship. Touya had hopped the fence to get down there, following a Zweilous with unique coloring as closely as he dared with only his Volcarona on hand. 

Nearly seven years of travel had offered a variety of teachings, and at twenty-three years old, Touya has figured out a few things. One being that mountain climbing without gear is ill-advised, but a good pair of boots made the most difference between inconvenience and falling to your death; another, that going off route was how to either get to the good stuff, or into the really bad stuff; and lastly, that there were a multitude of ways to connect with the world beyond battle. For all he'd experienced and learned, the latest— photography— was the one that decided to stick long-term. 

He kept his beloved DSLR cradled to his chest with one hand as he scrambled down the slope with the aid of the other, careful to avoid spooking the blind Pokémon. And just as he was lining up the shot, there it was— stark and red against the rocky landscape. 

Zoroark’s cool eyes meet Touya's, unabashed, intentional. And then it chortles, dashing away. 

Touya’s stares after it, stunned for all of a moment before coming to his senses and giving chase. 

The Zoroark was fast as it clambered down the cliffside, slipping away into a cave Touya hadn't noticed until he nearly fell into it. He looks down into the pit, a bark echoing back up from inside spurring him to action as he slid into the dark maw. 

The ground was not far down, and Touya made the landing easily enough, catching the flash of red fur as the Pokémon darted around a corner. He takes off after it and finds himself at the bottom of a canyon, dimly lit from the sparse beams that filter through around the large obstruction lodged in the opening.Only, the further he walks into the cavern, he sees the dark shape above him for what it impossibly is: pale marble and tall blue windows and the bell at the top of the tower, a disembodied chunk of Team Plasma's castle, suspended in the air by the Galvantula-like sprawl of its many broken supports. 

A sound from above reveals the Zoroark atop a staircase that still connects to the floor, and it hovers there, as if to beckon Touya the rest of the way. Wherever it was leading him. 

The staircase spits him out into the remains of a hallway, the echo of his boots landing upon the dark floors resonate in the stillness. Zoroark huffs at him, seemingly pleased before its ear perks up, twisting to look as the sound of a second set of footsteps approaches. 

"Hello friend." Rings out from the rubble. 

And Touya's stomach drops. 

He's cut his hair. He's cut it nearly all off. It only brushes his chin now, but remains as wild as ever- sticks up and flips out and shrouds his pale blue eyes like the canopy of a forest. 

"You’re a bit early today-?"

He's still thin. Narrow, all angles. From the front he could almost fool you, but in profile he could crumple. It's a miracle the wind never blows him away. 

There’s probably a metaphor there, but Touya can’t think of it right now.

“Touya?”

N is here . N is here, right now, in front of him, appearing from the desecration like he'd never gone anywhere in the first place. 

"Touya, is that you?"

Touya finds his voice, lodged behind the heart in his throat. 

"Expecting someone else?"

"Is this where you've been living all this time?"

They walk, side by side as N leads him through the ruins of the castle. Their footsteps echo, Touya’s heavy, tracking mud, N’s light, certain.

"All this time? No. But, when I am here, yes."

"How long have you been back?"

"About four years or so. But I still travel from time to time. I'm still seeing new things, learning new things after all this time. How wide and curious the world remains."

N stops in the middle of the hallway. He stands so close to Touya. Still no concept of personal space. 

"I've been searching for you. All this time. I would leave, and search, and then come back, thinking perhaps you might have returned. When I found out you had left, I…" he trails off, eyes on the floor, uncharacteristically uncertain. 

Touya takes a step closer. "I left to find you." He says. 

N looks up, and smiles. He has freckles now, pale and prominent alike, spread across his face in all the ways the sun has touched him since he left this dark place. 

"Destiny is strange, then, that this is where we should meet again."

Touya visits sporadically over the next two weeks. N doesn’t have a Xtransiever— at least as far as Touya knows— so he just shows up. N isn’t bothered, so Touya keeps doing it. Some days twice in a row, other visits longer apart when Touya has to run home or otherwise is busy.

At first, it’s a little strange to know N like this, like a person, a friend. But then again, knowing a guy's extremely complicated personal history and bearing first-hand witness to his familial trauma while not technically being his friend is pretty weird too. Touya expected some awkwardness, but all in all, there isn't much. N doesn't allow it. 

N commands his own space. Rarely is he still, always occupied with something or another, pulling Touya in without hesitation. He speaks as quickly as ever about whatever is on his mind, never needing Touya to have a conversation, then or now, but he’s content to include him, even if Touya only smiles and listens. They speak much about their travels, the places they both have been, the places the other has not. N’s experiences differ wildly from Touya’s, their realities still so vastly different even now, but where it crumpled Touya’s heart before, hearing about the things N has done that only he could do make him all the more eager to close the gap the years have left between them.

It also helps that the castle is always lively. Despite its dismal state, N has spent a lot of time working on it, and claims it has come quite far from when he first began.

Of the original 142 rooms, 39 remain, or so N explains to Touya when he ropes him into hauling broken furniture on his fourth visit. Only 24 of those 39 rooms have been salvaged so far, most of which have been relegated to N's Pokémon. 

N’s Pokémon, to which there are many living there. Pokémon he's met across his travels, Omastar, Hippowdon, Arcanine, Shiftry, Scizor— ones Touya recognizes but many he's never seen before. He introduces Touya to each of them, their diversity staggering, but their presence here strikes Touya even deeper. N never kept his Pokémon before. 

It's one of the several new revelations Touya has about him.

For all the things about N he remembers the same, he has grown and changed in others. He’s taller, for one, as if that were somehow remotely acceptable. Touya had grown too over the past seven years, but as excited as he’d been about the possibility of not being the shortest person in the room, N still had him beat by a solid several inches.

But N also smiles more. He sees it, when he’s doing any little thing, playing with a puzzle, cleaning his space, interacting with their Pokémon. There is a peace within him Touya knew didn’t exist before. 

Additionally, incredibly-

"Ah, I work at a daycare off Route 12. The hours are flexible, and they're always happy for the help." N says one day, as if it isn't news to Touya. They're chucking a ball they found at each other from two different rooms as Zoroark runs between them, trying to catch it. "There's a food truck in Village Bridge that's run by an older woman that I also assist for a few hours every week.” 

He has not one but two jobs, it seems. 

“Tipping is such a curious practice. But she pays me in berries, which is very helpful."

The more time Touya spends with him, the bigger and brighter the picture it all paints becomes. N has a life. N is living his life. 

And Touya had spent so long worrying for him. As champion and as just himself, those hours between midnight and sunrise saw him in the same way, when he toyed with the idea of sleep like it was something he could outwork, outwit, and he would think of N out there in the world. Worried if he would retreat into himself, if his empathy would crush him again, if Ghetsis would win in the end because trauma like that didn’t disappear, it could only change shape and be tucked into different places.

Despite Touya’s fears, the years have been incredibly kind to him. 

The realization unlocks something within him- something like relief. Because N is content. He looks good . Happy. He’s made all this progress himself, has done all of this, for himself.

N has a life. And Touya is still wandering aimlessly without his own. Regardless of his personal feelings, he doesn't want to take up too much of his time. 

His visits trickle down to once a week. Thursdays end up being that work best. N is elated to see him every time, has something new to show him, tell him, needs him to help with, every time. 

They fall in together, and it's easy for Touya to imagine they could have always been like this. 

Room 25 sees the light of day after about a month.

Touya wipes the sweat from his forehead. The castle is usually pretty cold, tucked down into the mountainside, but they’ve been working hard. N comes from behind him, arms empty of the load of debris he’d been carrying just a moment ago, and sits down beside Touya on the floor.

Together they survey the space, a long rectangle of a room with only one window. Room 25 had actually originally been two, but the dividing wall had blown out at one point or another, conjoining the rooms.

Touya stretches out his arms behind him on the floor, leaning back. He’s filthy head to toe, but in that deeply fulfilling, satisfactory sort of way that comes with busting ass and getting results. “What are you gonna do with this one? More room for Pokemon?”

N wipes his own dirt-streaked face with the hem of his shirt. “It’s going to be a library.” 

Touya looks around. “Did you have a library before?”

N laughs, a soft sound in the largeness of the room. “Yes. I’ve been wanting another one for a while,” He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. “The original is at the bottom of the canyon.”

“Wow. That sucks.”

“Unfortunately, so are most of my books.”

The wistful way he relays this gives Touya a very distinct mental image: a young N on the floor of his room surrounded by his books, countless stories, science, math. The things that fed his bright, curious mind, the friends that didn’t cause him heartache. His windows to the outside world for so many years.

He reaches out and jostles N’s shoulder, drawing him back down. “We’ll just have to get you more.”

"Where is Reshiram?"

They're sitting on the floor again, N's Glaceon dozing in Touya's lap. N has furniture but they never seem to make it there.

"Safe, with its new champion." N replies, fiddling with a wooden puzzle in his hands. It’s mid-afternoon, and he’s just gotten off work, so they haven’t done anything yet today. "And Zekrom?"

"I released it two years ago while I was in Alola.”

"You two were together for a long time." His hands still, looking up from his toy. "Was it difficult, letting it go?"

Difficult like losing a limb. Standing in HeaHea Bay, feeling like a failure. Zekrom’s red eye on the red top of what had once been its pokéball when Touya broke it in two.

Touya scratches Glaceon's head. "Yeah."

"I was surprised, how hard it was as well." N admits after a moment with a small smile. "Your other partners, I love hearing about your travels all together from them. Your Volcarona, he is as animated as I remembered."

"Yeah. They went everywhere with me."

N chuckles, his bracelets clinking together as he rests his chin in his hand. "I remember him telling me how you raised him from an egg. His memories of how warm your bag was— his first memory, in fact, was of your bag. The sound the items made, clattering around."

Touya turns to him. "You chastised me for bringing him to Dragonspiral tower with us. He was freshly hatched, clinging to my shoulder. You said I'd put him in danger."

"I recall." N sets his puzzle down. The expression on his face is complex— almost guilt, but far closer to pride. "I'm sorry I said those things. I was only concerned for him, as I am all Pokémon."

It's both an apology and not. N was always good at those. 

"I know. I don't know why I brought it up."

"Because it was a way I had hurt you." N says, as if answering an obvious question. When Touya doesn't immediately respond, N's certainty diminishes. "I understand now that my words hurt you that day. Yes?"

Touya nods. Glaceon rolls over in his lap. Somewhere behind him, he hears Samurott’s joyful cry followed by a clatter.

"I understand now that I've hurt you in a lot of ways."

"As if I'm any better."

N meets his eyes. But he doesn’t argue.

"I did plenty to make things harder for you. And in the end, it wasn't only me. You learned from Cheren and Bianca and the Professor too. I was only the one who beat you."

"And I feel as if my life hadn't truly been mine until that day."

They look at each other. 

"My truth was my own. Your ideal was one made up of the hopes of others. It's no wonder I lost." N continues. "It was for the best I lost. As I was, I would have built a hostile world for humans and Pokémon alike, and I would have done it convincing myself it was all for the best. Or rather," His expression turns rueful. "Ghetsis would have puppeteered me to whatever ends he wished. And I would have been loyal to the last, if it meant getting what I wanted as well."

It's ridiculous. They’re both grown-ass men, but sometimes, when he says stuff like that, the urge to wrap N up in a blanket and tuck him away in a corner threatens to overwhelm all of Touya’s greater sensibilities. It almost happens this time.

Instead, he reaches out, laying a land on his shoulder and reminds him, "You're only human."

A small smile curls from N’s lips, the tension leaving him in a sigh. "That I am." He runs a hand through his bangs, a bit shy. "I'd like to think I have become only more so, since the last time we met."

"You think?"

"I do! It certainly helps that I’ve made more human friends over the years as well."

The friends N speaks of are an eclectic bunch. The first and foremost being the current Unovan Champion. 

Even Touya has heard of Rosalina White before. The so-called Princess of Pokèwood, she’d first made a name for herself as a movie star, and then fancied taking the championship from Iris too when that proved to be too easy for her. Also, supposedly she owned and ran the mega mall that had sprung up in the middle of route 4— which, alright. Interesting. Rosa had been the one N was expecting that first day. They battled weekly it seemed. 

Amusingly enough, N had a bit of a mythic status among those who frequent Victory Road, other friends of his seeming to comprise the regulars up here, the veterans who trained on the old slopes, ace trainers patrolling their routes, the occasional battle girl or blackbelt who came to rough it in the forest for a few months. N speaks animatedly about the clerk at the Pokémart at the base of the route with whom he in particular has struck up a rapport with; she rehabilitated wild bird Pokémon in her spare time, and additionally, was an abstract artist whose peculiar portraits N found especially delightful and frequently showed off to Touya anytime he acquired a new one.

Touya continues to visit on Thursdays. He wants to visit every day— and in his wilder, more honest moments, wants to stay forever. But he wants to be cautious. He doesn't want to inadvertently start another fight, or run him off again. And even less so, interfere with N’s busy life.

So he visits him on Thursdays. And Touya reconnects with his own friends in the meantime. 

Cheren and Bianca were first to learn when he'd returned, second only to his mother. They're both incredibly busy, Bianca always on the move for Professor Juniper, Cheren stable in Aspertia but consumed by running both his school and gym. Touya sees them occasionally, more often over Xtransceiver than in person. Professor Juniper too remains deeply engaged with her work, but when they find the time to chat, either very early in the morning or very late at night, she seems happy. Her and Fennel’s four-year wedding anniversary is right around the corner. 

Hilda remains the same as ever. She still basically lives in the battle subway, but has a job in journalism now, writing columns about the musical scene in Nimbasa, Pokémon or otherwise. Her proud Emboar, Bebe, remains a diva, on stage and off. 

Touya is surprised to learn Grimsley retired and left for Alola himself a few years ago, but is happy to find the remaining three of the original Four doing relatively well. Caitlin is as free-spirited as ever. Shauntal had gotten married about a year prior, to her editor of all people, and Marshal holds several titles from the Pokémon World Tournament. The newest of the Four, an energetic seventeen-year-old boy named Benga, turns out to be Alder's grandson, and a formidable dragon specialist. 

Alder himself had retired permanently to Flocessy Town, mentoring the local kids and free climbing cliffs like he wasn't pushing sixty. Despite the respect he’d held for him, Touya and Alder’s relationship during the time of his championship had been one marked of strain and guilt on both sides. But years have dulled both of their edges, and without the title hanging over either of their heads, talking with him no longer holds as much of a sting. Alder says he’s ‘rugged’ now. Touya is far too proud of his approval.

Lenora keeps him on speed dial for relic-related errands, and anything Clay can't throw a bulldozer at he still frequently calls on Touya to help handle. Drayden remains an unageing, obstinate fixture of Opelucid City, but he’s diligent about keeping Touya up to date on Iris’s own travels, on sabbatical for a few years now after her own loss. Elesa sends him tickets to her fashion shows, now that she's a designer herself, and though Brycen doesn’t star in as many movies anymore, he always reminds Touya he’s welcome at any premier. 

So, there's lots to keep Touya occupied. And lots to tell N about when he visits on Thursday.

He keeps his Xtranseiver charged these days. 

Room 28 is basically a cupboard.

“This is basically a cupboard. Look, N you can’t even stand all the way up in there.” Touya says, waving a hand at the distinctly cupboard-esk space.

N, hunched a good few inches over in order to fit within, makes a hmmm-ing sound. “You may have a point.”

He spreads his arms out, completing a slow circle. They don’t brush the sides, and when he faces Touya again, his face speaks of a revelation.

“This space is still perfectly usable. It is just simply I who cannot use it.” He bends down and gets on his knees, placing his hands on his hips as he sizes up the few feet freed up above him now. “Still, it took quite a bit of effort to clean it all out, it obviously is capable of more than what appearances dictate. Touya, will you step in here and gauge if the height is appropriate for yourself?”

“N, get out of the cupboard.”

He gets a text from an unknown number one day. The message embellishments are pink, the header topped with a crown. 

Hey you don't know me but I know you. ♡

Ominous, Touya thinks, made slightly worse in combination with the cutesy heart signature. But before he can respond, another text pops in. 

It's Rosa, BTW ♡

Touya's left wracking his brain for any random Rosas he knows before it hits him.

Oh. THAT Rosa? 

-Hiya. Nice to officially meet you. N's told me a lot about you. 

That's my line. He doesn't shut up about you. ♡

Touya can’t help chuckling a bit at that. He can only imagine.

-It's been a long time since we've seen each other. I was gone for a few years, so we've had a lot of catching up to do. 

Several hours go by without a reply. Touya figures she's busy and doesn't think too much about it. It's as he's laying down in bed for the night that he hears the notification ding, a new message popping up. 

So you're that trainer he told me about, it says. No wonder he's looked so happy lately. ♡

It is ironic, that out of all that was lost in the desolation of the castle, the playroom in particular survived. Of all the rooms that might’ve been better off at the bottom of a canyon- probably least of all N’s original library- it's the one that refused to go.

N doesn’t go in there often. He outright ignores it most days. The one time Touya goes in on his own, N waits outside, sitting across the hall on the wall farthest from the door, twisting his void cube with the same fervor of someone pushing all the buttons in the hopes of stopping a runaway train. 

Unsurprisingly, the room hasn’t changed much since the last awful time Touya beheld it. Some things were knocked over, crushed, or destroyed from the castle’s descent into the mountain, but it remains at heart all it ever was: noxiously colorful, disgustingly infantile, representative of everything they’ve been fighting to overcome for years. The scratches up and down the sides of the halfpipe only whisper of the horrors this room witnessed, the basketball marked Harmonia banished to the corner of the room an innocuous reminder of who’s fault it all really was.

Touya had once thought of Alder’s empty champion chambers and saw N’s childhood room. They are similar, in some ways, but when it comes down to it, they’re far from the same. Alder always had the choice to leave. N never did.

He takes one last look around the room, eyes falling on the colorful train set by the door. A box overflowing with trains and more track pieces is pushed against the wall a short distance away, the front covered in shaky crayon words and doodles from a lifetime ago.

Touya goes and collects N, and after some convincing, they pull the train set out, reassembling the colorful paths through the lower level halls. Though N was a bit apathetic at first, it doesn’t take long until he’s rearranging the tracks to his fancy with increasing ingenuity, proudly showing off his reconstructions to Touya every few visits. Occasionally he even sees evidence of Rosa’s touch on the track, a stuffed animal or a sparkly object added to the whimsical landscape of toys and debris, and it warms him through to his core.

N still ignores the room more often than not, only venturing in when he desires something new to augment his locomotive wonderland. He drags his old skateboards out one day, and after demonstrating some considerable skill on top of one (at Touya’s disbelief that he was actually any good) begins detailing a radical new idea for the track involving trains on skateboards, that something occurs to Touya.

He cannot help but wonder—

"Why do you stay here? At the castle I mean. I would have thought you'd never want to return after… Everything."

"You make a good point. And in all honesty, I'm not sure." N says, swiveling his head from side to side. Touya probably shouldn’t be asking him questions right now but N hasn’t said anything otherwise. "When I came back to Unova, I didn't really have anywhere to stay. I sort of just found myself here, and then I sort of just stayed.” He hums. “I don't hate it. It’s hardly the castle’s fault what took place here."

"Well, you've definitely made it your own."

Touya can’t see his face, but he knows with the uptick of his posture N is preening a bit. "My friends like it here. And that's all that matters to me."

Touya and N are in the remains of some grand bathroom today. Back on the floor, Touya leaning against a pillar and N in front of the remaining third of what was once a floor to ceiling mirror. There’s a pair of scissors in his hand and a ring of freshly shorn bits of green hair around him. Another new development in their friendship, Touya’s inclusion in N’s little rituals. He’d declined Touya’s offer of help though, all too nonchalant when stating that if he messed up he’d simply cut it all off again.

Again . Touya isn’t sure if he should ask.

Besides, he seems focused, so Touya lets him go about his work. Touya’s got a request from the professor he’s writing up a report on in the meantime, and the two work in companionable silence for a while, cut through by the snipping of scissors and the scratching of Touya’s pen.

N's holding his head sideways to trim his bangs when he asks out of nowhere, "Do you plan to challenge the league again?"

Touya hmms, only half listening, and it’s the clink of the scissors being set on the marble floor that gets him to finally look up.

N is running a hand through his shorn hair, thankfully not hacked to death and one of the better bathroom self-haircuts Touya's seen. "I was asking if you were going to challenge the Pokemon League again. With how often you're up on Victory road, I couldn't help but wonder is all."

Touya puts his pen down. "No. I was an awful champion. It's not something I ever want to do again."

"I see."

Touya is missing something. N is certainly missing something. 

"I'm only up here to visit you. That's why I come here every Thursday. To see you."

"Oh." N says, expression in the mirror surprised, then pleased. "I see."

There’s a beat of silence. N parts his hair one way, then tries it the other. He dissolves the part next by shaking his head vigorously like a soaked Herdier and only then looks satisfied.

Eyes still on his reflection, N says casually, "You can come more often, if you like. You don't only have to visit on Thursdays. I'm always glad to see you."

He picks up his scissors and puts them back in their designated bag. Touya watches him slip it into the large crack in the wall functioning as his medicine cabinet, and it’s nothing at all but feels immeasurable personal to witness.

"Okay. I will then."

Touya gets what he wants. He visits more. 

They work out more days they can see each other, around N’s ever-evolving work schedules and Touya’s various obligations. They meet up after work occasionally and have dinner, and sometimes Touya spends the night when they get too caught up in castle overhaul. He leaves his Pokémon in N’s care when Touya knows he’ll be busy all day, and one day comes to pick them up and is shyly presented with a marker sketch of Volcarona N commissioned from his pokémart friend. 

And sometimes, where before there would always be something to do, some activity to perform, they do nothing at all, simply existing in each other’s line of sight. N reading in the library, Touya sitting on the floor, gaming on his handheld, N out in the hall, practicing kick-flips, Touya taking pictures of whatever form the train track takes this week. 

Over the weeks, something begins to change between them. There’s not as much pressure to get the most out of every moment they got together, because though it still has to be rationed, they’re actively choosing to spend this time with one another.  

One night at the height of summer, they rig up a signal in order to stream Rosa’s new movie and manage to bribe an exceptionally brave delivery person with a 7,000 ₱ tip to haul three pizzas up Victory Road. In an unused room on a lower floor to escape the heat, they pile together with several of their Pokémon and set up in front of Touya’s laptop, and Touya watches N laugh until he’s gasping for air, and realizes he wants it to always be like this. Exactly like this, careless, comfortable, infinitesimal to the greater scheme of things.

He is certain of this want too. Certain of it longer than any of the others. 

Certain until Touya makes the mistake of surprising N at work.

Touya always found Village Bridge to be rather quaint. The area was pretty, the locals were kind, and there was always live music coming from somewhere. Its famous little sandwich truck remained as it was seven years ago, parked at the east end in the shade of the bridge, a smattering of picnic tables cluttered nearby like a flock of Pidove circling a snack. 

Even from a distance, Touya sees the sizable crowd gathering in front. A few figures cut through the throng, arms loaded up with plastic bags and to-go boxes, and a flash of green has Touya walking a little faster. The shadow of his Gliscor above cuts over him, keeping pace.

N had mentioned the previous week that summers were a busy time at the truck— all the travelers coming through, kids on their Pokémon journeys and tourists heading to Undella— and that he'd been picking up extra hours to help meet demand. Touya and Gliscor had been in the area that day, and when they’d started to get hungry Touya couldn’t help wondering if N happened to be working. The idea of N— N, of all people— working a normal customer service job was still kinda bonkers to conceptualize, and an opportunity to catch him in the wild was too good to pass up. 

Even in a group like this, you couldn’t miss N if the sun went out. A head taller above the rest, he's dressed in a huge blue T-shirt, cargo shorts, green tennis shoes, and a neon orange hip bag, an atrocious combination that has no business suiting him as well as it does, hair too short to tie back and flopping messily in his face. His bangles catch the light as he moves and Touya knows the sound they make by heart even if he’s too far away to hear.

He’s staring, and eventually N wanders close enough to notice. "Touya!" He calls out to him, waving as he lopes over to his spot in the shade. There’s sweat dripping down the line of his jaw, and in the sun his freckles seem especially potent. “What brings you out here today?”

Upon hearing his approach, Gliscor drops from the tree above, flinging himself into N’s arms. N catches the big boy like it's nothing, patting him on the back with a fond chuckle.

Touya shakes his head with a smile. "We were in the area and hungry. I didn't know if you were working today, but I thought we'd come see. I hope you don't mind."

N gives him a grin around Gliscor’s ardent nuzzling of his face, bright against the Pokémon’s dark fur. "Not at all. I'm happy to see you both." The ding! of a bell draws all their attentions back to the truck, and N sighs goodnaturedly. "I'm sorry, I don't have much time to talk right now, but were you ready to order?"

Touya orders for himself and Gliscor, and watches N stride off, sitting back to observe the chaos. There really is a great variety of people visiting the truck today, families suited up for the beach, hikers with camping gear strapped to their massive packs, the odd business person or police officer, groups of kids and teens laughing, living in the moment. Touya’s hands itch for his camera, sitting in its case in his messenger bag, but he decides against it.

His eyes track N throughout the crowd, because of course they do. He works quickly and smiles a lot at those around him, and more than once Touya catches one of his fellow blue-shirted coworkers clapping him on the shoulder or sneaking up to whisper something in his ear, watching the laugh that blooms from him as a result. He’s surprised by the amount of times their eyes accidentally meet, that cool flash of blue cutting through the crowd and the heat of the day, almost as if he’s watching Touya back.

N drops off their food after a little while, two spicy figy berry paninis for Touya and three yache berry subs for Gliscor, but can’t stay long, off running again before Touya can even get a thanks out. The crowd hasn’t gotten much smaller, and the line by the truck still wraps around to the end of the bridge, so he can’t really blame him. Not even Gliscor seems all that heartbroken, already through his first sandwich, so Touya follows his example and stuffs his face.

It’s not too long anyways before he catches sight of N making his way back over, but he is surprised when he drops down on the opposite side of the table from him.

"Hey. Everything alright?" Touya asks, setting down his sandwich.

N slouches in his seat, voice flat. "Yes. I was instructed to take a break."

Touya gives him a onceover, not in the slightest bit convinced.

"It doesn't sound like it."

N unclips his hip pack, tossing it on the table with a flippancy almost petulant. "Ms. Chris said I seemed distracted today. I'm not sure what she meant by that, but," He sighs, running a hand through his bangs and parting them off his sweaty forehead. "I'm worried I've disappointed her."

Touya raises an eyebrow. He’s no stranger to N’s dramatics, but this seems a bit much. "She isn't sending you home, she just sent you on break.” He picks up the untouched half of his second panini. “Maybe you're just hungry, here."

N looks unconvinced, but he accepts the sandwich. "Sure." 

After a look from Touya gets him eating, Touya goes back to his own. Gliscor has long since finished his food, and worms himself into N’s lap, contenting himself with a nap. N’s first few bites are mechanical, but soon he eats ravenously, and Touya wishes, not for the first time, he’d had more to offer him.

“Thank you.” He says when he’s done, wiping his hands off on his shorts.

“You’re welcome.” Touya says, and then, because he means it, “You know, I think you’re doing well.”

“Well?”

“Yeah. You seem good at your job.”

“Oh.” 

Oh. That one little word. It does something to him. Touya’s insides go hot like they’ve been melted down.

And when N’s face flushes, he presses a hand to his mouth, as if he’s trying to keep the bright, lopsided smile that spreads across his lips from jumping off and running away. “Thank you, Touya. That means a lot to me.”

Touya stares at him, enrapt— captures him like a snapshot, sweat-matted hair, baggy clothes, dirt-lined nails and stacks of golden bracelets, and is struck by a peculiar sense of resignation. 

It has occurred to Touya in recent years that it’s not normal to abandon your entire life to chase down a guy you knew for like 14 months unless maybe, at least a little, probably, you're in love with him. Oh, he’d been in denial about it for those first few years, chalking it up to disappointment, restlessness, a desire for anything to mean anything at all when the very foundations of the world were so violently and thoroughly shaken right beneath his feet. But a Sinnoh winter was long, and put more than a few things into perspective for him. Those years spent in Alola, too, ruminating on his feelings and piling more evidence at his feet, taller and taller still until he couldn’t look away from it anymore.

A short blue shape strolls by, tapping N on his shoulder, startling them both. 

“Hey, Nat! Chris needs you back!” She calls behind her, heading for the truck.

“Coming!” N replies, rolling Gliscor to the bench carefully, and gets to his feet. He gathers the trash off their table and gives Touya a bashful smile. “Bye, Touya. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Touya’s teeth click together as he assembles what he hopes passes for a grin. “Yup.”

N’s eyes crinkle, and he trapises off, back into the thick of it. And Touya, fool he is, catches himself getting winded by the sheer length of his stride, long and confident and probably like two or three of Touya’s strung together and how is he just realizing now how attractive every aspect of this man was to him?

Because it’s true. Touya has seen him covered in ash and dirt and neon and sweat, bore witness to his rage, his sorrow, his shame. He knows the cursed, hellish way he organizes his living spaces, the stubbornness of his desires, the childish side that adores toys and colors and questions everything around him and persists despite the fact he is nearly twenty-six years old and spent the majority of it unable to be true to himself. 

Touya loves him. He’s in love with him.

The name of it is new but the shape of it is not. This was how it felt standing on the ledge, watching the sky where N had disappeared all those years ago, these edges cut the same. This was how it felt every time he turned his memories of their night in Nimbasa over in his mind, fixated too long on the color of his eyes, how they changed in every light. 

This N is not the boy Touya chased for years, but he is very close. He is the evolution, exposed to freedom, friendship, finally given the love he has always deserved. He is the man who restores forgotten castles and cares for all life, waits tables serving sandwiches out of a food truck and once nearly destroyed the world. Touya loves him. Touya wants him.

He wants. He wants. 

Room 32 is a pain in the ass.

An outer room, it’s lined with windows and every single one had long since been busted out. A sea of blue and green glass covered the floor and endangered every surface in the room, which sucked because N had been wanting to haul out the massive ornate desk within for a while; the desk, however, had been staunch in its desire to not be moved. Another pain in the ass.

After about a week of sweeping and painstaking removal of all the glass, they manage to haul the desk out with the help of Samurott and Hippowdon.

Touya could have cried when they finally got it through the threshold, seriously considering breaking down in sobs when they got the damn thing all the way into the hall. Shoving it out the way to the far wall, they collapsed on the ground, backs to the desk as they caught their breath.

“Hnnhhhh,” Touya groans loudly as he stretches out, Samurott coming over and flopping down in his lap, pressing her cold nose into his stomach. He fans them both with his hat. “Why did you want this desk so bad?”

Touya is expecting something from an index of predictably N-like reasoning, along the lines of it’s a waste to leave it there unused , or I want to break it down and repurpose it , or even for the train track of course , so is unprepared for when he says:

“It was my sister’s.”

Touya looks at him. They’re shoulder to shoulder, N wearing one of those light filmy shirts he favors, expression mild despite the heaving of his chest. Even covered in dust and grime, he is so lovely.

“Which one?” Touya asks.

N turns away, glancing back through the threshold. “Concordia. This was her room.” 

Touya stares at the wall opposite the room, somehow feeling like he should avert his eyes. Samurott’s whiskers are tickling him but he couldn’t imagine moving even an inch away right now. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but how do you… how did you know all these rooms existed? Like, how did you keep track?”

“I would count them. When I was restless or couldn’t sleep, I’d walk these halls and count them as I went.” N’s voice was soft. Touya could almost feel it through his skin, where they touched. “It was… comforting. To know that no matter what happened, there were always 142 rooms. That never changed.” 

Even when everything else around me did, goes unspoken.

Rosa is very frightening in an extremely specific way. 

“Touya, you made it!” She calls out to him, waving a manicured hand his way. “Gosh, it's a hell of a ways out here isn't it? Oh, I hope you didn’t bother bringing any money with you, I was gonna buy you anything you wanted.”

Touya can almost hear the '♡' at the end of her spiel. They’re standing at the entrance of Join Avenue, where Touya had just come in covered in a healthy splash of sandstorm and found Rosa waiting for him there with her partner Lopunny and no less than six scarily well-dressed assistants in tow. Said six assistants quickly relieve Touya of his sandiness before bowing in succession to Rosa with a deferential, “Lady Rosalina,” and departing. 

“Nice to see you, too.” Touya says after a moment.

Rosa laughs, a dainty, bell-like noise contained primly behind her hand before the illusion breaks, and she flashes him a smirk. 

"Come along then. We've lots to see and do."

It’s been several months since that first ominous message, and though Touya expected the event to be a one-off, they had kept texting, leading them to finally meeting up here, today. Rosa’s hectic schedule didn’t allow for much free time, but under the guise of doing some managerial BS for her mall, she’d managed to purloin a free day out from under her agents’ noses. 

Arm locked around his own as she walks him up the neon-lit strip, they chat rather amicably, and Touya finds she’s quieter than he expected her to be- which is to say, she certainly doesn’t mince words. Rosa over text is dramatic and sporadic, but Rosa in person asks Touya questions about himself with genuine curiosity and no expectations, listens to his replies and makes her own observations. As they tour the various shops, florist’s, antiques, beauty salon, she talks about the people who run them all and how she met them, on a first name basis with everyone they encounter. She is blunt, thorough, and extremely gallant. He can see why N is so fond of her.   

And the more they talk, something he had gleaned before but had no idea of the scope becomes all the more apparent now: ambition. She gives it off in waves. It almost reminds Touya of himself, but he’s quick to correct the thought; as hungry as he’s ever been, he’s never had her hunger . Champion, movie-star, entrepreneur, Rosa stopped at nothing to get whatever she wanted. 

They’re sitting at one of the Avenue’s delis having lunch later, Touya with a sandwich, Rosa with a smoothie, Volcarona and Lopunny sharing poképuffs on the floor. It’s early afternoon, the Avenue bustling with people on their lunch break, grabbing their food and going about their busy lives. Touya’s been watching the passersby, imagining potential subjects and shots for his camera, and Rosa plays along, supplying poignant and ruthless commentary about their fashion.

After nearly choking on his food when Rosa points out the anatomical correctness of a certain pokéfan’s onesie, Touya drops his sandwich on the table, because he's actually afraid he might die at this rate. “It was really nice of you to have us out here today. Since you’re trying to kill me, I’ll take a commemorative coffin as a souvenir.”

“It’s nice to finally get a day off, myself.” Rosa says as she glances around the deli, entirely unappologetic before fixing Touya with a dubious look. “And, like, I really would have bought you anything you wanted, you know. You didn’t have to be stingy.”

“Lunch is more than enough. You fed Volcarona too, after all.”

“It was the least I could do.” She says with a shrug, taking a sip of her smoothie.

This has Touya quirking a brow at her. “Is it because of…”

“Mmm. A little.” She admits, demonstrating a space between her thumb and pointer finger that could indeed be interpreted as ‘a little’. “And I thought he was so outrageously positive when I first met him, but that doesn’t even compare to him now. Gosh, time goes by so fast, it’s been almost four years since then.“ Rosa quiets, seeming to think something over for a moment. “Were you aware he gave Reshiram to me?”

This gives Touya pause. 

“No. He said it was safe with its new champion when I asked, but I didn’t know that was you.”

“And I didn’t know you’re Zekrom’s either. He was…” She taps a bright pink nail against the side of her cup. “Extremely protective of your history. He spoke of you, but hardly in any definitive detail. Like, I didn’t even know you were a boy until waaay later, but when I put two and two it was so obvious, like, I felt really silly for not realizing sooner.”

Touya gives her a small smile. “I haven’t been Zekrom’s champion in a long time. And you were just a kid when it all happened the first time. None of us knew Team Plasma would come back and drag you into this mess too.”

“ Just a kid . As if you being three years older makes that much of a difference.” Rosa presses her chin into a hand with a big sigh, shoulders rising and falling as she rocks in her seat. “Honestly, I’m not sure I ever deserved it. It felt a lot more like N chose me more than Reshiram did. The light stone answered me, eventually, but it hardly feels like something I earned.” Her gaze falls to the table. “All my life, I’ve wanted to win, but I always wanted to deserve it.”

“I know the feeling.”

She looks up at him through her full lashes, that cool, calculating gaze Touya’s sure has unnerved many an opponent. He reconsiders what N had told him of Rosa, of the years they’ve been friends- longer than N and Touya at this point, he realizes. The year and a half he’d known him before, N hadn’t been N; he’d been king, hero, criminal. She’s known him as himself, free from destiny and fate, for years- they’ve shared a dragon, experiences, so much time together that they have routines. 

It should change everything, but somehow it doesn’t. Rosa is every bit as impressive a person as N, passionate and capable in spades. It makes sense that N would look at her and see a friend and equal, that Touya would be drawn to her flame, seeing her living her truth so brilliantly.

Touya puts the words he wants together. “He’s… good at making people feel special. But he’s also good at making you feel small.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “N is a powerful person. He never needed Team Plasma for that. The fact I ever won against him at all… I’m not sure how I did it. But the light stone answered you too. What he saw in you, Reshiram saw it too.”

Rosa reaches down to pat Lopunny on the head, her partner cooing happily in response, and Touya can only imagine the sorts of things N has told them about each other. “There really is no one else like him.” She says after a moment. Her glittery pink lips curve into a smile. “But, if it helps, I think you’re pretty iconic too.”

Touya flusters, and doesn’t quite know what to say after that. They finish their meal in relative quiet, but he caves and lets Rosa buy him a lotto ticket on his way out though.

He tucks the berry juice he wins away into his bag, Volcarona back perched on his shoulder as they prepare to leave. "Thanks again for everything today. I really don't get out as often as I used to."

Rosa gives him a bemused look. “By that you mean you ‘don’t get out’ except for Victory Road, right?”

Touya chokes, caught red-handed. But he’s surprised when Rosa doesn’t laugh at him, only peers up at him, that odd clarity of her eyes piercing him straight through.

"You're not even champion anymore, so it's not like you have any excuse. What's the point of all that hard work if you don't relax sometimes?" She whips out her Xtrainsiever and begins tapping away at it at light speed. "My boyfriend's an idol. You should come to a show next time."

"Would you feel like going somewhere together one day?"

N looks back over his shoulder, dappled light from the trees above hitting him in an incredibly distracting way. They're out hiking on Victory Road for a change of pace, Zoroark and Touya's Zebstrika racing each other down the trails. Touya’s been snapping pictures as they go, Rosa’s words bouncing around his head as he'd been working up the nerve to ask.

N smiles very warmly, and if the sun lost all effect on the world at large Touya would have never known. "I'd be delighted. Going anywhere with you sounds wonderful."

Oh . Wait. 

That absolutely sounded like a proposition. Like they were going to-

And N didn't even blink, alright. How he says such impossibly sincere things without a hint of self awareness remains one of the great many mysteries of the earth. 

Touya's already nervous enough but the embarrassment of his thoughtless wording is twofold. He's definitely blushing when he manages to cobble together his proposal, "I mean, I was just thinking I hadn't been to Nimbasa since I got back, plus summer is almost over, so. You wanna go with me sometime soon?"

"Of course." N agrees easily, that starry look in his eye when he gets excited. "Rosa and I visit the amusement park together every once in a while, so it'll be nice to go with you again."

...He hadn't said anything about the amusement park, specifically. But the way it seems he holds that memory close despite the circumstances of that night does nothing to alleviate Touya’s suffering. He rubs the back of his neck, looking away when he catches the white streak of Zebstrika darting through the trees. "Well, we can plan around your schedule, so make sure you remember to get the time off from work. I'll bring my camera so we can take pictures this time."

N makes an affirming sound. "Oh, you're correct. I doubt it would look well of me to skip out on work to go on a day trip unannounced. Asking for the time off hadn't occurred to me."

Touya breaks out laughing. "For real? Don't you ever have to take sick days or anything?"

"I've never missed a day." N says, looking a little scandalized. "Not even when I don't feel like it. I don’t want to disappoint anyone if they rely on me."

Touya keeps laughing, and harder still at N’s furrowed brow in response.

"We've got to fix that."

It’s a Tuesday about three weeks later the opportunity finally arises for their day trip. 

They get to Nimbasa late in the morning, in time to meet up with Elesa before her gym opens. N declines to accompany Touya to the gym, so Touya meets up with Elesa by himself, and they catch up in her studio, a wide glass room at the back of the gym overlooking the whole of the park. The lean shapes of dress forms dot the room like decorative plants in their various garments, all bearing Elesa’s signature yellow, black, and electric blue color schemes.

Elesa has aged as gracefully as she does anything else, and remains as cool as she ever was. Time flies by talking with her, and when it's over, Touya wishes dearly he had come to see her sooner. He tells Elesa as much, and she’s quick to convince him to come see the premiere of her next collection; if she thinks combining a rollercoaster with a cat walk will entice him to come, she is correct. At the door she gives Touya a hug, hands him a swag bag, and reminds him to wear sunscreen.

Touya finds N, predictably, at the base of the Rondez-View when he comes out, staring up at the whirling machinery above. He goes to stand beside him and watches along for a moment. The ferris wheel is beginning to show its age a bit, the reds more auburn now and the white parts yellowed from the sun, supports scratched and paint chipping in some places, but the wear on the Rondez-View sparks familiarity, comfort in the knowledge it circles on unaffected, ineffable. He wonders if N has been here the entire time.

“You wanna go up?”

N turns to look at him, excitement skirting his expression though he seems reluctant to show it. “We decided we were going to go to the amusement park tonight. When the lights were on.” 

Touya gestures to the ride with his chin. “But you want to ride now, right?”

N bashfully plays with one of his bracelets, looking at the ground. “I do.”

“Let’s get in line then.”

The line isn’t bad this early in the day, and soon enough they find themselves seated across from each other in the carriage. Nimbasa’s skyline is quite different during the day compared to the night, but it's hardly any less interesting. The sun illuminates all the glass and metal atop the buildings and skyscrapers, and they can see all the various Pokémon nesting atop the roofs, Swanna and Unfezant and the occasional Watchog or Sigilyph; throughout the city foot traffic washes over the streets in colorful waves, the ebbs and flows fascinating from on high. N sits back in his seat with his hat in his hands, eyes never straying from the window as they rise in the quiet of the carriage. 

Touya is watching him as much as he is the view. There is something effervescent about his enthusiasm, a symbiotic joy found in watching him enjoy things. They’ve only ridden the ferris wheel once together before, that one night over eight years ago now. Finding themselves here again after all this time, it almost feels as if it was always heading here.

“You still love the ferris wheel, huh?” Touya says.

N hums, bright eyes reflecting the clear sky above. “There is nothing constant in nature. Formulas can be used to replicate the same results, but they themselves are always capable of change too.“ His gaze falls down to something below them, eyelashes fluttering. “To perpetually be in motion, but to never move forward, or achieve change. And yet, contentment can be found here. A paradox I find myself drawn to, time and time again.”

“You really love it,” Touya corrects himself.

N laughs.

When they get off, Touya calls up Hilda, and they all get together at a cafe during her lunch break. She arrives toting her trusty pink messenger bag, filled to the brim with drafts and article scraps, her Braviary perched atop her shoulder.

It’s the first time they’ve met, and N introduces himself to her as perfectly princely as humanly possible, hand clasping and smiling, the whole nine yards. They elect to share a side of the booth in order to give N the leg room, and Hilda shoots Touya a look as they slide into their seats. 

“Okay, where have you been hiding him all these years. Spill.”

“I’m not giving you an article. Write it yourself.”

Hilda and N hit it off spectacularly well, but then again, they’re both chatterboxes, and with the inclusion of Braviary, conversation between the three of them is something far beyond Touya’s ability to keep up. But he’s more than happy to sit there and listen, watching his friends connect.

Hilda heads back to work afterwards, having stolen all their leftovers under the guise of it being for Gigi. N turns to Touya after she’s gone and proclaims her, “Rather lovely.”

“I thought you’d like her. I’m glad you two got along.” Touya snorts, a wild sort of idea in his head. “She’s from the same area of the region as I am, imagine if you’d met her that day in Accumula town instead of me. I wonder how different things would have been if you had.” 

“Who can say,” N says evenly, looking off down the street. “Hypotheticals are always interesting to ponder, but in the end it's nothing we’re capable of changing.”

“Yeah.” Touya says, unsure of what conversation he’s stumbled into.

But then N turns back to him, smiling once more. “What shall we do next?”

The day is yet young, so they decide to walk the streets for a while, people watching and window shopping until Touya suggests they ride the subway. Down at Gear Station, they choose the observation line after a moment of indecision, watching the desk jockeys, school children, and construction workers duke it out between stops. On the far side of Nimbasa, they head back up to the streets and explore the business district leisurely, ending up at one of the large inner-city parks, feeding the enterprising Ducklett and Pidove that flock there, despite N’s half-hearted protests. When the heat gets too much, they duck into an ice cream shop for popsicles, N striking up a conversation with the owner’s Vanilish. Afterwards, the timing works out and they hop a subway to Anville town in the late afternoon, where they walk around the trainyard, N prattling off facts about steam engines verses coal engines and all sorts of random knowledge that wouldn’t be half as interesting if it were anyone other than him rambling it.

They’re heading back just as the sun starts to creep down the sky, the horizon turning orange and pink as Nimbasa city turns blue and red. The archways come on and alight the streets, dropping colorful shapes of light across the sidewalks. In the distance, the Rondez-View snaps to life in a halo of gold.

“Shall we?” N says when they get streetside, gesturing to the amusement park.

Unsurprisingly, it’s much busier now as they ride the crowds into the park, lost together amongst the families, couples, and screaming kids. They get their tickets and arrive at the main plaza, lit up by the tall electric pokédolls lining the walk.

In the yellow glow of the Pikachu, they pour over the park map handed to them by the ticketer for a moment, more for Touya’s benefit than N’s, before Touya balls it up and chucks it in a trash can.

“We'll figure it out as we go.”

Touya gets them into the rollercoaster lines early, and N tags dutifully along even as Touya shuffles them into the queue for the front row ride after ride. They hop on several other attractions of Touya’s choosing, bumper cars, the log flume, drop tower, and sink quite a bit more money into the carnival games than either of them planned, but N refuses to leave the ring toss booth until he’s won every single bagged Magicarp in the prize pool and released them all back into the harbor.

Amusingly, communicating with Magicarp seems to be as laborious a task for N as it is for non-Pokémon speaking individuals, Touya observing from a distance as his companion proceeded to argue with the Pokémon about their ceremonious return to the wilderness when he could even get them to reply with anything besides a splash. Several minutes later N comes back over to Touya, adorably frazzled, twisting his bracelets in annoyance.

“It would seem that Magicarp are simply another being beyond my current comprehension.“ 

They’re hungry again by now, and N volunteers to go get them snacks. Touya slouches back on a bench, happy to take a breather as N traipses up to a vendor cart, pulling out his camera to look over the photos he’s been taking.

He starts flipping through the pictures, but can’t focus on them. He’s watching N speak with the vendor, pointing out the things he wants; it’s nothing out of the ordinary, probably a routine interaction given the circumstances, and when N steps away to the side to allow the next customer up to the counter, no one gives him a second look. 

It hardly seems possible that less than a decade ago their faces were plastered all over the news- the Savior of Unova and one of the world’s most wanted criminals. It was part of why Touya was often so trepidatious to go out, something he couldn’t articulate in that moment when Rosa had put him on the spot; that certainty that even after all these years someone was going to see him, recognize him, need something from him- or worse, have an opinion of him. Touya had found himself more comfortable behind a lens than he ever had been in front of one, and had had his fill of the latter for a lifetime.  

It doesn't appear Touya should have been worried though. The former King of Team Plasma just pillaged a ring toss game for nine Magicarp and tossed them in the habor and no one even blinked.

N returns with food, refusing Touya’s attempts to throw some money at him. Touya shoves his wallet away, threatening to buy them slushies later, and N just nods sapiently, handing him a pizza pretzel.

“You look happy,” N tells him a bit later, peering at him from over his stick of fried tofu. 

“So do you.” Touya responds with a mouth full of pizza pretzel, because he does.

Despite Touya’s burning desire to hop right back on a rollercoaster, N suggests the carousel in an effort to keep all their freshly consumed food in their stomachs. It’s after several turns upon a Sawsbuck and a Krabby, respectively, and they are grabbing refills on drinks when N propositions Touya again.

“Would you like to hold hands?”

Touya’s brain crashes, restarts, and immediately blue screens again. The cola he’s attempting to pour into the commemorative Raichu cup N got him goes all over his arm instead. “I’m sorry?”

“Holding hands.” N repeats innocently, screwing the top onto his own cup. It’s an Emolga head. “It's something I’ve noticed lots of people do when they go to places like this. I would like to try as well, if you’ll let me?”

He’s so earnest about it. He really has no clue. “Okay.” Touya agrees dumbly, too excited to regret it. 

N offers his hand, waiting for Touya to take it. After a moment, Touya wipes off his soda-soaked arm on his shirt and lays his hand atop N’s, sinking their fingers together. N’s fingers are slender and long, and terribly rough on the underside. N makes a pleased noise. Touya wants to tattoo it to the inside of his skull.

Pulling him slightly, N leads the way as they begin walking again. He is diligent about keeping them together, drawing close to Touya to avoid passersby and guiding him around obstructions, never more than an arm’s length away from him at any time. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful.

For the rest of the evening, they remain attached. Through another round of rides, souvenir shopping, and the afore-threatened slushies. At one point while waiting in line once more for a rollercoaster, Touya cracks and starts swinging their hands without thinking. It takes a moment to realize what he’s doing when he feels N starts to swing their hands back just a moment sooner than Touya had, and he looks down at their interlocked fingers like he’s having an out of body experience. 

Neither of their hands are small, but N’s are just bigger than Touya’s, pale and long and scarred in the strangest of places. They're burn marks , he realizes belatedly. Had it hurt, being close to Reshiram at times? A truth so brilliant, it burned away all else close to it? 

He looks at N’s face and it's like a recreation of that fateful night. N wears every light and color like he was made for it, head always tilted up at something, watching the rides around them blur by, curious, cautious, aware. They're not strangers, and yet friends is still the wrong word for what they mean to each other. 

Only-

N looks down at him, squeezing his hand with a beseeching gaze. “Do you think we could come back later? I think the fireworks are about to start, and I would love to watch them from the ferris wheel, if you don’t mind?”

This is not then. When N smiles now, it is without the shadow that used to haunt him. His short hair sticks to his forehead with the damp heat, and he holds Touya’s hand like he wants to, walks by his side rather than staring him head-on, demanding a fight. They're twenty-three and twenty-five years old, and both of their hands have scarred with the years. 

It would be all too easy to kiss him right now. Lean up into N’s space, draw them closer, make it happen. It’d be a scene ripped straight from one of Touya’s fantasies, arranged in his mind a thousand times over with the precision of a photographer on a set- them, here, together, ferris wheel optional but highly encouraged. Could he stomach it, having something he wants like that? Own up to it afterwards, and put into words- clumsy, complicated, fallible words- everything he feels?  

Touya is selfish. Touya is a coward.

“Yeah. Let’s get up there.”

Again, they find themselves amidst the crowd of couples waiting to board the Rondez-View, hands and arms entwined up and down the sidewalk. Touya feels like an imposter beside them; logically, he knows pairs of friends go up on the ferris wheel all the time, perhaps even platonically holding hands. Because they are- they are friends . No matter what they are and aren’t else, that is the most important thing. 

But it is very nice to imagine, for a moment, that they are more. That they are anyone else, another couple among a crowd of strangers, allowed to live and be unknown.    

N holds his hand all through the line, all the way through the carriage, helping Touya climb in. And then, once more, they find themselves on opposite benches, and it’s then that N releases him. 

And just like that, they’re them again.

N presses himself into the seat, close as he can to the window. He looks very much like himself, gold and pink and ecstatic, for all the world like there's no place he'd rather be. He's not wearing his hat again, but this time it's because it's in Touya's bag. 

“I wonder how high they will go? Higher than the ferris wheel, I’d assume, for safety purposes. Still, it would be wonderful to see some up close,” He turns away from the window, his shape etched out in light, an inverted photo negative. “Wouldn’t it, Touya?”

Hands pressed to the glass, they cast shadows over Touya, the memory of their touch still fresh on his skin. 

He shrugs, and smiles. “We’ll just have to see.”