He awoke to the sound of his heartbeat monitor. He couldn't tell at first what it was, but clarity visited him after a minute.

Why…am I here?

The sound slowly faded from his mind and was replaced with droning: voices. They weren't the type of voices he was used to hearing; these were more garbled, less focused, as if they weren't trying to say anything at all, simply vainly crying out to the universe to be heard by something, someone. Yet it was hauntingly peaceful. All they had to worry about was being heard, nothing else. Not recognized, not acknowledged, only heard. After all, if you were heard, there was an acknowledgment in that alone. With that thought, he faded back into reality where the monitor was his voice wailing to the empty air that death had not come to take him, even if it had come to introduce itself like an old friend.

– Chapter One: Othello. A Boy, A Ghost –

He is Othello. The boy who should be dead. Not just once or twice, but many times. A freak plane accident at 3: he survived. A car accident just over a year later: he survived. A mass shooting at 9: he survived. A rogue Tyranitar attack at 10: he survived. A generational storm that nearly wiped out his whole town at 12: he survived. The latest: a gunshot through the heart by his uncle at 14.

The dead follow him…no he is the errand boy of death!

Those could have been the last words he heard from anyone living, but they weren't. His uncle couldn't have been further from the truth. No matter what Othello did or suffered, death would not have him. Some cry miracle, some cry devil, but he says none. To him, the solution was simpler: death could not take him. Whether it was death's refusal, his power, or something else, Othello did not know. The other conclusion he had come to was that others weren't far off, but not a devil, but rather Death himself. If this were the case though, he probably would have been in many more "freak" accidents, so he had dismissed this notion years ago.

Alive again.

He looked up at the nurse through heavily sedated eyes. She was looking at the sheets upon sheets of his history.

You're supposed to be cleared tomorrow. I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem to be an exciting thing for you.

He nodded, glad the nurse at least understood. Most of them weren't like this, either pitying him or keeping their distance, entering after being forced to.

If you need anything these next couple of days, ask for Ms. Fay, okay?

She flashed a smile, but Othello didn't say anything to it. He knew there was no point. He wouldn't have any other assistant or doctor to tell that to. Instead, he decided sleep was the better choice.

Maybe he could ask for Ms. Fay somewhere in there.

– – –

The garbled cries of life returned to his dreams. Less clear, but somehow more understandable.

"I hear from others ymfy mj'x wjfqqd been trying…Ymfy fy fsd rtrjsy he could hear us…"

He tried to open his eyes, to pinpoint the voice, but somehow that just made everything less clear. Instead, he just let himself listen.

"He is here, correct? Can he hear us now? Can anyone tell?"

They were so close…so clear. Othello reached out gingerly with his hand, hoping he could gently hold on to the voice itself. It would be some reaffirmation of something, and what that something was wouldn't matter because, at this point, specifics were useless.

Which is when the sensation of freezing woke him up.

– – –

Othello jolted awake. The window was closed although the blinds were open. The feeling was icy, colder than anything he had ever felt, it couldn't have been him touching the glass in his sleep. He realized his hand was still outstretched and entrenched in a floating purple cloth. Othello cocked his head to the right. Any ordinary person would yank their hand away, but he was intrigued.

The garbled cries returned.

Outside of his dream, he couldn't quite make out what exactly they were saying, but it was speech…

And then a second thing came up from under the hospital bed: a sword holding a sheath. He had seen these before somewhere. He knew they were Pokémon, but he had always been kept away from as many Pokémon as possible, so he couldn't tell exactly what they were.

The purple cloth finally let go of his hand, which dropped limply to his side with a slight thud. It then turned to look at the sword before they both looked at Othello as if expecting something…something…

I don't know what you want.

The two Pokémon exchanged glances and the garbled sound returned. Othello's eyes glazed over as he tried to think why any of this would be happening. As he did, the voices became clearer.

"I think he is close, but he clearly couldn't understand us there."

The two glanced back at him. Seeing his blank gaze, they continued talking to each other.

"Do you think that's it?"

"Has to be. No doubt about it."

"What was his name again?"

"Othello."

At this, Othello snapped out of his trance and the voices slowly transitioned back to barely understandable cries. He could barely recognize sounds at all this time. His head felt woozy as if he had just run a marathon followed by an intense workout. He flopped back down on his bed and drifted back to sleep.

– – –

How are you feeling?

It was distinctly the voice of the nurse…Ms. Fay, but Othello was still groggy from his experience the previous night.

Still drowsy?

He nodded slightly, still spacing out.

Well, I have some news for you. I don't know how you'll take it, so please lie back down.

He did as instructed, head still swimming as he tried to steel himself for whatever this news would be.

The authorities arrested your caretaker after this incident, so you won't have to worry about something like this again.

He was slightly surprised at this. His uncle was rich and he had thought that there was no chance he would see any consequences, much less being arrested. He didn't dwell on it though. His uncle would just pay off the jurors and get away with a small fine or something similarly minuscule, then complain about how the justice system is so rigged that he had to pay anything.

And you won't be going back.

This shocked him awake.

What?

Ms. Fay seemed startled that he had said a word but composed herself in an instant.

You won't be going back to his residence. He was found in violation of the Compulsory Education Act by not providing you with any structured form of education.

He had no idea there was even such a law.

Also, a private academy agreed to sponsor your education when they heard about your situation. They'd like to hold a case study on the effects of late education. In return, you get to attend free of charge.