Sleeping

The first time Ash had noticed it, he didn't think upon it too much. Perhaps N had gotten cold in the middle of the night, or had an odd dream and moved in response to it.

But then it happened again. And again. And again.

Every morning, Ash would wake up bleary-eyed with a Pikachu sized weight curled up on his chest or at his side. He would sit up and yawn, rub his eyes and blink away the sleepiness, then look over to the next bed or patch of grass, and find the newest addition to their group of travelers curled up in the most cramped looking ball Ash had ever seen a human make.

It almost fascinated the raven-haired boy, that a young man with such height could draw himself in until his legs were tucked against his chest and his spine curved so his head nearly rested on his knees, and his arms hid inside the protective shell his body formed. In this pose, reminiscent of the fetal position, N took up only about half of the space he would occupy lying flat.

It was a miracle, Ash thought to himself while pondering this odd way of sleeping, that N's back remained straight and allowed him to tower over even Cilan.

But . . . Why? Why did N sleep in such an uncomfortable position? Surely it was difficult to relax enough to nod off when he looked like he was trying to disappear into himself?

One day, while waiting for Iris and Cilan to return from their respective errands before beginning the trek to the next town, Ash decided to ask N about it.


"N?" The boy next to him said.

"Yes?" N glanced down. The two were seated on a bench outside of this small town's Pokémon Center, waiting for the other half of their party to finish gathering food for both them and their Pokémon.

"I was wondering, isn't it uncomfortable?"

"Is what uncomfortable?" The green-haired youth frowned, unsure what Ash was asking.

"You sleep curled up in a ball. Isn't it uncomfortable?"

N's breath caught in his throat. Ash's innocent question may as well have been a knife in his back. Unpleasant memories that he tried so hard to suppress rose from his soul, and he unconsciously shivered. His eyes unwillingly slid shut, and images flashed in the darkness.

The man he once thought of as father loomed over his slight frame, boots careful to avoid the growing puddle of blood and ears deaf to his tear-choked gasps.

Sharp kicks to the stomach woke him from his slumber, his friends scattering to the various nooks and crannies that were too small for Ghetsis to reach them while he tried to catch his breath and blink back tears.

A larger than normal Liepard with an long scar over a blind white eye bared down upon him, hissing and spitting as its claws tore into his back and arms, and he desperately tried to defend himself from the feral Pokémon that had no reason to trust any human that moved and drew breath.

"N?" Not for the first time since they had met, Ash's voice had to drag him out of his memories and back to the present.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking. Nobody's ever actually asked me that before." N grasped.

"So why do you?"

N thought fast.

"When I was really young, I slept in a round bed. It was actually made from a large tire. I loved sleeping there, so much that I continued to even after I got too big." N attempted to shrug casually. "I guess the habit has just stuck."

It wasn't an entirely false statement. There had once been a tire in his room that he had cuddled with his friends in, and he had often fallen asleep in it, lulled by the warmth of his furrier companions.

Ash didn't look totally convinced, but the appearance of Cilan and Iris drove the conversation from his mind as he raced to them to help divvy up the supplies.

N followed, slower in his steps, and a hand rubbing the length of his arm where he knew faded scars still crisscrossed his skin.

Some scars, he thought, slightly rattled, will never fade.