N did not reunite with haxorus until three days later. During that time, he had run, and he had hidden, worry creasing the lines of his face, but he did not leave the area nearby Nimbasa City; could not. That was where haxorus was, and where Ghetsis, the five other Sages, and almost all of Team Plasma would be, preparing to gather. N had decided what he would do. He was going to stop them all. If so many saw that he no longer believed in their goal, inevitably, at least some would change their minds.

There were those that his father sent to look for him - members of Team Plasma. Forests dotted The outskirts of the city, and although most of the trees no longer had leaves, there were still tangled bushes and thick trunks to use as cover. Sometimes, however, one of them would get too close to N, almost to the point of finding him, forcing him to use violence. He knew he had no choice in the matter, and he did not kill any of them, but that did not remove the guilt.

On the evening of the third day, when the sun was sinking below the horizon, coloring the sky bronze and flaring the clouds various shades of red and orange; its fading light glimmering through bare branches, N crouched inside a bush, hidden. Pricks poked the skin of his arms and where his clothes had rips in them from his days of running. It had been so long since he'd eaten anything that hunger gnawed his stomach; his skin pulled against his ribs. His tongue was swollen and felt like sandpaper, and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

When the rustle of leaves and the crunching of sticks sounded behind him, his sluggish, sleep-deprived brain almost didn't register the noise, but soon he was leaping to his feet, heart jolting into his throat as he spun around.

But it was haxorus. Wounded and tired.

N beamed, grinning. He was surprised he could still smile. The Pokemon staggered forward, using the trunk of a tree to steady herself.

I finally found you.

"Haxorus!" N ran to her and hugged her tight. Blood stained his shirt. "You are injured. We must get you to a Pokemon Center, haxorus. We must!"

Please. Don't worry. I'm okay. She stumbled. N caught her the best he could, laying her on the ground so that she might rest, haxorus' were not light Pokemon. His arms burned from the effort of it.

"Haxorus," he repeated, kneeling beside her. "I will not be able to carry you, but I won't leave you here. Not alone."

I am alright. Have trust.

N shifted. After a moment, he said, "how did you escape?"

The Pokemon that belonged to that poor man who was killed by... your father. They allowed me to flee and find you. Many of them didn't survive, N.

N shook his head, expression falling. More evil done by his father.

He took her Pokeball in his hand. "I'll… someone will agree to heal you. Some Pokemon Center must have people still working inside. Perhaps one outside the city."

N…

He held the Pokeball pointed toward her. Haxorus dissolved into a beam of white energy, absorbed through the center of the device. N stood. Someone would be able to heal her. He would not let her suffer, especially not when it was Ghetsis who caused that suffering.

There was a road leading to Nimbasa City nearby, he knew. He started in the direction he thought must be the correct one, based on where he had last stumbled on the road, pushing past the trees and the dense underbrush. By the time he reached it, the sun had retired; the sky above a vast plain of velvety blackness, pricked by dots of light like holes in a quilted blanket. A cold wind blew, ruffling his hair and his clothes.

Pockets of light from street lamps lined either side of the road. N could hear nothing but the buzzing of insect-like Pokemon and the distant calls of others. He did not think anyone was around, looking to his left, then to his right. Nimbasa City was a glimmer in the night. Should he go there to find a Pokemon Center, or look elsewhere?

He took a step, then stopped. There was something else to be heard. The soft tune of a person whistling.

Movement registered in the darkness, and then two figured stepped into the light of one of the street lamps. One, a zoroark; his arms crossed in a human-like way over his chest. The other, a young man, no older than N, with wispy red hair, hands in his pockets, wearing a gray undershirt and tie. There was a pack on his shoulders.

King. The trainer who had won the Vertress Tournament.

N was moving before he could think to stop himself. What King believed did not matter, not any longer. He was a trainer, and there was the possibility that he would be able to heal haxorus.

N moved in front of him, into the light. King froze, his eyes widening. His tune fell off, carried away by the breeze.

"Wow," he said after a moment, looking to zoroark. "It's this guy again."

Zoroark nodded.

"Please," N said, taking a step. "Please help me."

King raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to demand I release my Pokemon?"

N did not answer. Instead, he held out haxorus' Pokeball in his palm. King met his gaze. "I have changed. I no longer follow that path. But, please, haxorus is injured, and I do not know if I can help her alone."

For a long time, King was silent. Then, zoroark and he exchanged a look.

"Yeah," King said to his Pokemon. N gasped.

"You can speak to them?"

"What? Oh. No. Zoroark can talk."

I can talk.

King continued before N could say anything more. "Well, I can get your Pokemon up to shape no problem, but you don't look so great yourself. Why don't you follow me? I'll take you to the place I'm staying at, and you can grab a bite."

He turned on his heel and began to walk away, whistling. Zoroark smiled at N: an odd expression for a Pokemon, but not unpleasant.

He has changed, you know, as it seems you have. His heart is much softer.

N shook his head in disbelief. He watched King's retreating form. "Truly?"

Truly. King doesn't think of us as tools. Not anymore.

Zoroark ushered him to follow, and they walked side by side as they trailed after King. N could not believe it. To think that someone who once did not even think of Pokemon as living beings could change so much. It was further proof of what Granny had once told him. That he bond between Pokemon and trainer was one of growth.

Further proof that everything N had done was for nothing. He had murdered Drayden for nothing.

He turned to zoroark. "So, if you would not mind, what happened to make him change that much, as you claim?"