INTERLUDE - The Polarity of Two Halves (Patreon)

The reason Hilbert had decided to ditch his friends was two-fold. 

One, they’d never allow him to take a look at the Plasma rally. Instead of lending an ear to those dissatisfied by Unova’s current state, they’d rather bury their heads in the sand and call them insane, laughing at their silly outfits and ideas. Hilbert didn’t agree with the Plasma Organization at all, but he knew understanding the breadth of Unova and all of its people was necessary should he become the Champion and change the region for the better. So he’d slipped into the crowd cap lowered on his face, and listened to what this Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius had to say. His passion for his ideals had resonated with Hilbert at first, but something had felt off about it. Oshawott felt the same way, and she was better than him at figuring out who to trust, even if Hilbert thought she’d be better off giving more people a chance.

Two, he’d felt a pull calling him here. In the beginning, it had been faint enough that Hilbert had mistaken it for the excitement of doing something he wasn’t supposed to and satiating his curiosity, but it had only grown stronger since. Like there was a string tied around his heart, behind his ribs, stretched through the sea of strangers and tied around someone else’s, and it kept tugging.

Hilbert could feel it whenever they drew closer. The string shortened. Tightened. Something restless stirred within his heart as they looked for each other within the now dissipating crowd.

Then, he saw him. A tall boy with hair the color of lichen and eyes peppered with the same hunger Hilbert no doubt shared. The stranger lowered his cap, hiding his eyes as he slowly made his way toward Hilbert, who approached him all the same.

For what felt like an eternity, Hilbert studied the other teen’s face. It was flawlessly smooth, all soft angles and delicate features that his eyes kept finding excuses to linger on. The sharp line of his nose. The way those strange eyes sat beneath long lashes. Oshawott was the first to say something, tugging at his pants with a scratchy grunt.

The green-haired teenager’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your Oshawott. Just now she was saying that she didn’t like me.”

Hilbert blinked. He’d understood the gists of it because he’d spent so much time with Osha, but that wasn’t something a stranger should have been able to tell so easily, even if he had an Oshawott as well. His starter balked at being understood; she had a knack for being rude thinking humans wouldn’t comprehend her.

“You can understand her?” he asked. “What’s up with that?”

The stranger made a face that could only be described as a disappointed pout. “So you can’t… hear Pokemon’s voices, then,” he lamented, shaking his head ever so slightly. There was a quick pace to his cadence. “How depressing—my name is N.”

Hilbert raised an eyebrow. “N? Like, the letter?”

“It’s short for something,” he said, “but you can just call me N.”

“I’m Hilbert. Hilbert Cassidy.” He wondered if he should hold out his hand to shake, but decided otherwise. “You here for the speech?” He cocked his head toward the stage. By now, Ghetsis had already finished and stepped off. 

N smiled politely. “Oh, not at all. I’m here because I was looking for someone who ended up being you.”

Hilbert felt reassured he wasn’t the only one feeling the pull, or he would have felt like he was going insane. Or maybe they both were.

“Are you a trainer participating in the Circuit?” the green-haired teenager asked. When Hilbert nodded, he continued before he could even get a word out. “I figured—you just give that look, you know? That determined look. I unfortunately am as well.” N’s eyes narrowed down toward Oshawott, whom he crouched toward. The water type faced his curious stare with a bored look. “She’s a quiet one, isn’t she?”

“When she isn’t with me, yeah. But wait,” he remembered, “you can speak to Pokemon—”

“I’m no admirer for battling,” N interrupted, “but I’d like to hear your Oshawott some more.”

Hilbert had never been one to shy away from a challenge. On the road to Accumula, plenty of countryside trainers had asked him for a battle, and he’d acquiesced time and time again, winning much more than he ever lost. And each loss, he learned and adapted from, ensuring he was better prepared next time.

Looking around N, however, he realized his challenger had no Pokeballs, nor any backpack to put them in.

“Sure! If Osha’s okay with it.” He glanced down at his starter, who for once looked quite fired up to battle. “But… where’s your Pokemon?”

N clapped his hands, loud and clear, and something purple darted from beneath a nearby bench. A Purrloin dashed between someone’s legs, and then jumped on his shoulder without a sound. The feline rubbed its head against the side of N’s, purring softly.

“Thank you, friend,” he said. “Would you be willing to have a little spar with this individual?” He nudged his face toward Oshawott. When the Purrloin meowed, N beamed. “Very well. He agreed. Let’s—”

“Hilbert?” 

He’d nearly forgotten that anything existed beyond himself and his new acquaintance, so Cecilia’s voice startled him badly enough to make him jump. Worry was etched plainly across her irisless eyes, sharpening her features as she hurried toward him. Behind her, an old man dressed in clothes wildly unsuited for the summer heat was already retreating into the dispersing crowd. 

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Mhm! I was just gonna battle with N!”

“The others are waiting for you,” she said.

Barely able to contain his excitement, Hilbert turned back toward N. “I’ll be right there!” he told her. “This feels important—no, it is important.”

He could feel it deep in his bones, down to the marrow. The crisp beating of his heart, the strange warmth blooming beneath his ribs, the invisible thread between them humming now that he knew where its other end lay. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Vertigo made manifest, but in a way so captivating he couldn’t help but vibrate with anticipation.

His senior sighed, crossing her arms. “Very well. I’ll help keep Cheren off your back when he inevitably freaks out.”

“Awesome, thank you!” Hilbert beamed as she released her Slowking—no doubt in case people around needed to be shielded from an attack. Already, she started whispering to him—but Hilbert faced his foe. “Are you ready, N?”

“Yes.”

There was no countdown, no signal. It simply began, as quietly and inevitably as a raindrop starting down a mountainside, gathering into a stream, then a river, until at last it spilled itself into the sea. 

And like a torrent of rushing water, Purrloin dashed forward without a sound from N, eyes glinting with malice. His form blurred and divided into two, then four apparitions all running toward Oshawott. Two months ago, Hilbert would have been overwhelmed by such a display, but he had plenty of battles under his belt.

“Water Cut!” he yelled, and it felt like electricity coursing through his body.

His starter tore the newly regrown scalchop from her belly and swept it through the air, flinging a crescent of water wide enough to catch every Purrloin at once. Three broke apart into ribbons of shadow. The fourth folded himself beneath the attack without losing a step, purple fur nearly brushing the ground as the blade of water hissed over his back. 

It was too late for another, but Osha was not stupid. Her eyes gleamed with the power of Detect, and she hastily dodged the Purrloin’s maw. Teeth coated in wisps of dark closed around nothing, and before the feline could keep diving in, N held out a hand and gently clicked his tongue.

“There’s no need to rush, my friend,” he softly said. “That’s what they want. Up close in a protracted fight, you lose.”

Hilbert’s eye twitched as Purrloin slowly circled Oshawott just outside of Water Cut’s range, dividing into another four clones from Double Team. That bait had almost worked. His starter would have taken a few hits, but one of hers was much stronger than a couple from a Purrloin. Luckily for them, they still had a few tricks up their sleeves.

“Water Gun all around you,” Hilbert ordered.

With a deft spin, his starter sprayed her surroundings with a continuous jet of water too wide to dodge. Something gleamed in Purrloin’s eyes, and one of the clones hacked out a few coughs before another stream flew out of his mouth just as two of his afterimages disintegrated.

The two Water Guns collided with a shimmering spray, and Hilbert felt water drop on his arms. Oshawott’s easily overpowered the Copycat move. It was, unfortunately, enough time for the Purrloin to get close.

He burst through the curtain of mist before Oshawott could bring her scalchop around. One paw flashed white, claws catching the light for an instant before raking across her flank—

“Grab!”

The water type had never been one to be challenged by pain. With a bored look, she bearhugged the Purrloin before he could get away, specks of blood pouring onto the street. The Purrloin thrashed in her hold, panic seeping into his every waking moment as Osha gathered a Focus Energy to make her hit count.

Breathing in the crisp, summer air, the water type went utterly still. Every trembling muscle seemed to draw inward, gathering all that frantic motion into a single point of purpose: the point blank Water Gun gathering deep inside her throat—

“Don’t be scared—listen to my voice,” N quickly said. “Your tail is still free.”

Purrloin’s frantic eyes flicked downward, and his tail snapped toward the street, sweeping low across the stone. Dust and loose grit scattered upward in a dirty plume, catching Oshawott square in the eyes. Her concentration shattered just as the Water Gun blew Purrloin away.

The dark type scrambled back to his feet, and Osha cracked one of her rare smiles, meeting N’s amused expression. It was a game of inches, and those were always her favorite battles, even if she was at an advantage.

Something was off about the way N battled, however. He was distant, almost a ghost, only intervening when the situation required it. There was always variance to how trainers took to battling, but maybe this was a standard strategy in one of the big cities? He could see the gears turning in N’s eyes.

He shook his head, focusing on the battle ahead. Another hit like this, and they’d have the win. Purrloin let out a series of inquisitive meows, and while Hilbert first believed they were directed at Osha, they were meant for his trainer.

“That would be correct. You’ll have to be careful, though,” he answered.

Unwilling to let them get into his head, Hilbert ordered Oshawott to use another Water Gun. Now that Purrloin had taken one point blank, he hoped the dark type wouldn’t be fast enough to pull off any shenanigans. Unfortunately, Purrloin’s mouth opened wide, and a humble jet of water met his once again.

When Purrloin poured nearly all of its remaining energy into the move, Hilbert thought they were misplaying and that they had this win in the bag. He realized when the mist started to spread further than the last.

Their win condition is to stay hidden in the shadows and hit and run, he realized. It would be a gamble, given that Copycat was such a demanding move, but it was their only way to win. Purrloin had better eyesight and hearing than Oshawott could ever hope to obtain and would in no way be encumbered.

“Cut it off!” he yelled, but it was too late.

Hilbert caught a flash of purple before the mist swallowed Purrloin, then the faint scrape of claws against stone somewhere to Oshawott’s left. If Hilbert had been able to peer through the mist, he would have seen his starter spin toward it, scalchop raised.

But then, nothing but silence.

A heartbeat later, claws raked across her back. Oshawott whirled, Water Cut carving through empty mist. Purrloin was already gone, leaving only the faint patter of paws that seemed to come from everywhere at once. He didn’t need to tell her not to chase—she was smarter than that. 

N made a guessing game out of the battle, but each time a Scratch pierced Oshawott’s skin, they got just a little closer to reacting in time. A glimpse of awareness just before they got hit.

That singular glimpse. That moment. 

That was all they needed to use Detect. 

When Purrloin looked to exploit another opening, Oshawott’s body moved in the mist, and it had dissipated some for Hilbert to see her silhouette. Detect carried her sideways by inches, Purrloin’s Scratch slicing through the space she’d just occupied. Osha planted one foot, twisted, and drove her scalchop straight into Purrloin’s ribs, and the impact folded him around the shell, flying away like a rag.

The dark type did not get up.

Cecilia’s Slowking dissipated the mist with a lazy wave, and Hilbert noticed his friends next to their senior. A few others had gathered to watch them fight, mostly trainers their age, but no one else would care much for a couple of beginners battling.

Yet something important had just happened here. Hilbert could feel it in his heart. The tentative thread he’d felt was more solid now, as if he could see if under the glint of the sun, flowing in the wind and leading to N’s chest.

Oshawott was barely standing, but he’d rarely seen her so proud of having won a battle. When she fought against Cheren’s Snivy, she was mostly bored by the time they won. “Awesome job, Osha,” he whispered, then recalled her into her Pokeball. She deserved the rest.

While N went to pick up Purrloin’s unconscious body, Cheren stomped his way toward Hilbert with anger writ across his face. He clasped his best friend’s shoulder and sighed.

“Hilbert, who is this guy?”

“Um…” The dark-haired teen realized now that he was sweaty, and his legs felt a tad unsteady. “That’s—”

“My name is N,” he said smoothly, cradling Purrloin in his arms. “And you are?”

Cheren adjusted his glasses with a scoff. “Cheren, Hilbert’s friend and traveling companion.”

Despite the introduction, N’s eyes were glued to Hilbert’s, not paying his best friend any mind.

“Don’t worry about it, Cheren. It was just a battle,” Hilbert reassured him with a smile, and his anger melted away. Hilbert then turned to N and his Purrloin. “Shouldn’t you put him in his Pokeball? It’ll be better for his health.”

N laughed. “The Purrloin isn’t mine. I met him today while I was exploring Accumula, and he took a liking to me. He was a bit of a guide.”

Hilbert swallowed, then froze. He’d nearly lost to a… trainer whose Pokemon he’d met today. Was that why he’d taken such a distant role in their battle? Had he even known all of Purrloin’s moves?

Part of Hilbert wanted to say N had been carried by Purrloin’s own skill and he had nothing to do with their victory, but without his presence Oshawott would have wiped the floor with the dark type. The green-haired teenager had good instincts and knew how to win a fight.

“I don’t believe in Pokeballs. It places the balance of power too far in human hands,” N continued.

Cheren snorted. “So you’re one of those Plasma supporters, then?”

N gave him an amused look. “You could say that.” Cheren was about to retort, but N spoke over him. “I’m afraid I must take Purrloin to a Pokemon Center. The poor little thing exerted himself so much.” He glanced at Hilbert, who was secretly hoping said Pokemon Center would be theirs. “I’ll see you around, Hilbert Cassidy.”

“No, you won’t,” Cheren said, placing himself between them. “Hilbert doesn’t want anything to do with you! If you weren’t a Plasma supporter, it’d be different, but… yeah.”

With a subtle wink, N mouthlessly spun his finger around the string linking the two, and Hilbert’s breath caught in his throat.

“I’ll, uh,” he sputtered. “Yeah, I guess we’ll see.”

He could not explain it, but Hilbert felt as if he’d just realized he had only been half complete until this very day. The feeling of emptiness that remained as he made his way to the Pokemon Center was proof of that, and he remained mostly silent the whole way through.