Chapter Text
N Harmonia clung tightly to Reshiram’s feathered body, shaking from the biting cold. The deepest parts of Great Chasm Cave were bitingly frigid, and the settling dust of battle chilled the warmth of adrenaline. N’s every heavy breath bore white clouds in the thick air. His fingers clutched Reshiram’s white fluff as he stared absentmindedly at Kyurem.
Ghetsis stood before the legendary dragon Kyurem, looking up at it with contempt. He screamed raging insults at it with a snarl and accusatory pointing fingers, his voice itself more like a roar than speech. Kyurem, backed into a corner by something as inferior as a man, stared right back down at him.
“You useless creature!” Ghetsis shrieked. “Get up this instant and re-fuse! You will absofuse with Reshiram again and again until you crush those freaks, do you hear me clearly!? Get up! Kill N’s little friend if you must!”
Kyurem rose, sluggishly, as if its own head were too heavy for its neck. Puffs of freezing air escaped its icy nose as it reared its head.
N distanced himself from Reshiram, then sharply turned his attention to Hilbert beside him. “Ghetsis wants to kill you!” N repeated, despite its redundancy. “Please, you need to get out of here. I can handle this, but you aren’t safe.”
“I won’t leave you alone, N.” Hilbert shook his head.
“You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t let anything happen to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”
But Hilbert refused to leave. He stood his ground, his posture defensive if his trembling was to be ignored. Both boys stared at Kyurem’s hulking form, into its pure yellow eyes. There was a glassiness to them. It was a hollowness much like the Giant Chasm itself.
Kyurem’s heavy steps made echoing thumps against the cave’s stone floor. It lurked behind Ghetsis’s turned back, towering above him. Ghetsis continued to rant and rage, his finger pointed at Hilbert.
“You. You’re just some fool who comes in at the worst possible times, always foiling my plans. Never again! You’ll never see the light of day again once I make Kyurem work for me, you irritating little–”
“Ghetsis, stop!” N stepped between him and Hilbert, his arms spread out defensively. “Stop this now, I’m begging you!”
“You’re begging me?” Ghetsis gazed down at N incredulously. His head was titled upward, his arms crossed over his chest beneath his cloak. “A freak like you? Begging me for mercy? It doesn’t seem to me like you’re on your knees.”
“Please, Father” N repeated. “As hard as it is for me to call you that, please, just– listen to me. Pokémon aren’t tools you can use, especially not to abuse. They’re meant to be our partners, we help each other. Can you not see-”
N’s breath was stolen away from him as his eyes darted up to Kyurem. It held its pointed jaw open, razor sharp teeth dripping with near rabid drool of anticipation. N could hear its voice in the silence, a sort of incoherent scream of livid fury.
“Do not call me your father!” Ghetsis argued.
N did not listen. His brain refused to take it in, his eyes focused on Kyurem and his mind focused on its silent cries of rage. N recalled Reshiram into the Pokéball he rarely used in fear of absofusion. Not once did he look away from the icy dragon as it loomed over Ghetsis.
“Father, move!” N shouted. He broke into a sprint, trying his hardest to tackle Ghetsis away from Kyurem’s gaping jaws.
Instead, Ghetsis held up his arm and slung N away from him. Blind rage flared behind his eyes as he watched N hit the ground. He screeched like a toddler mid-tantrum. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! What did I just tell you! Do not ever call me your father!”
“Ghetsis– behind you– please–” N’s shivering voice broke. His hand reached out for his father, shaking slightly. He could barely lift his head, but kept his eyes on Kyurem.
By the time Ghetsis finally looked behind him, it was too late. Kyurem lunged forward and snapped its large jaws around Ghetsis’s neck. The sound of ripping wet flesh echoed throughout the cave, loud and yet so quiet. The noise alone was enough for N to gag and sputter on, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Ghetsis’s entire head was swallowed up in the dragon’s jaws, and his body was lifted limply dangling like a hanged man. Blood trickled and flowed from Ghetsis’s shoulders, landing in silent drops on the floor.
N was entirely silent. His hand remained clasped over his mouth and his body shook with terror. Cold sweat and tears streamed down his face. His eyes were wide and fixed on Ghetsis’s body, swaying ever so gently in Kyurem’s jaws. N didn’t even notice Hilbert by his side, desperately trying to lift him off of the floor and drag him away.
Hilbert fell still when Kyurem released Ghetsis from its bite and disappeared into the cold. Ghetsis’s body fell free and hit the ground like a rag doll. His limbs landed at odd angles, poking out from beneath the cloak twisted around his frame. His neck was maimed and mutilated, his head flopped limply. A thick pool of red grew out around him and soaked into the rocky ground. His eyes remained open, smoky like frosted glass.
The instant Ghetsis hit the ground was when N began screaming. It was a nonstop, shrill cry, begging for something incomprehensible and deeper than release from the incident itself. Such a sheltered man likely had no real grasp of death, but nobody could handle a sight like the one before them; gore beyond comprehension of the innocent.
“C’mon, we– we need to leave,” Hilbert murmured, his eyes fixed on N’s pale face. He hoisted N up from under his arms, only for him to flop back down to sitting on the cave floor. Hilbert persisted. “I don’t– I don’t think– neither of us can stand to look at this anymore. Come on.”
Hilbert dragged N away kicking and screaming.
The funeral was closed casket, held at the entrance to N’s castle.
N mostly stood back as the Seven Sages, with the exclusion of the late Ghetsis, stood around the casket and said odd things beneath their breaths. Something about Team Plasma’s legacy and an unfair universe, altogether shallow and with an odd routine.
N would have preferred something more private. He had plenty to say, but nothing to say around others. Instead, N stared up at the cloudy, gray sky in silence. He twirled the black umbrella in his hands and watched the way the raindrops flew off of the edges if he spun it fast enough.
In N’s imagination, he thought up the image of himself delivering a speech both eloquent and truthful. He planned his words out in his head, how he’d address people and answer questions. In reality, coherency escaped him. Every time one of many Team Plasma grunts would approach him, he couldn’t say a single word. The most N could verbalize was a squeak like that of a small kicked Lillipup.
N was snapped out of his daydreaming by a tap on his shoulder. It was none other than Team Plasma’s very own best scientist, offering him a glass of water.
“Colress?”
“Oh, excuse me. I just happened to notice you standing out here all on your own. This is your father’s funeral, you know. Even if you’re not technically related.”
N watched as Colress removed his glasses and casually wiped the rainwater off with the sleeve of his suit. It was rather ill-fitted on his frame, and the tag was still dangling from the back of the collar.
“If I’m being honest, I’m scared.” N admitted. “I don’t know of what. There’s so much to consider.”
“I see. Well, in one way or another, the answer will come to you. I assure you things won’t jump out at you in a situation like this.”
N gazed at Colress, observing his posture up and down and taking in his appearance. Colress stood there casually, hands in his pockets, with a soft smile on his face as he observed Team Plasma’s odd funeral precessions. He viewed it with eyes hungry for information as if he were observing any common party. N didn’t comment on this.
“Thanks for the drink,” He decided to say instead. “Really.”
“Of course. No need to thank me.”
“I want to anyway.”
“Alright then.”
For a while, the two of them just stood there, listening to the rain drown out voices and turn them into muffled blurs. N watched ripples form in small puddles. He couldn’t bear to look at his sisters, Anthea and Concordia, as they quietly orchestrated the entire funeral. There was a silent mutual understanding that N’s involvement would raise the question, “what happens now?”
Everyone attending knew what the answer to that was; N was next up to lead Team Plasma, whether he liked it or not. In some way, he must become the new Ghetsis.
Anthea and Concordia stepped up on the stairs, overlooking the funeral at a simple podium. They held each other’s hands tightly, and for a moment the two sisters glanced over at N. Perhaps they were as terrified as he was. Nonetheless, they cleared their throats and the crowd fell into a hush. Anthea began to speak, announcing that they would proceed with the funeral service, and it was now time for eulogies.
N sat down and found himself entirely disappearing into his own thoughts. The voices of the Sages, then the Shadow Triad, faded entirely beneath layers of rain and N’s own thoughts. He stared at the puddles on the paved floor again. The usually soothing ripples in the water didn’t register to him. Everything felt so far away, almost fictional.
The ice in N’s drink began to melt as he tightly held the glass in his hands. He had no idea what to say, what to do from here, what to expect or how to deal with the pressure. N questioned how to continue with the wreckage Ghetsis had made. Was redemption for Team Plasma even a possibility?
“N? Are you doing alright? You haven’t moved an inch or said a word.”
N nearly jumped out of his chair and his eyes darted up to his two sisters standing before him. It was Anthea who had spoken, and she continued softly; “I’m worried.”
“I’m alright,” N answered, unsure of if he was really telling the truth. “Just thinking, is all.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I am? Well– it’s rather cold out.”
Anthea and Concordia both looked at him with extreme concern. Both of them knew him well enough to understand that his misery went far beyond just mourning.
“It’s your turn to speak now, N.” Concordia continued, shifting as she stood with her hands clutched tightly together in front of her. Both sisters were without an umbrella, and rain poured down on their figures and the black dresses they would never wear again.
N’s heart immediately sank in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He knew he’d fall apart at the podium, as if melted by the rain.
“You can do it,” Anthea assured him nonetheless. “You possess an innocence and purity like none other.”
“If anyone can reform Team Plasma, it’d be you.” Concordia added.
N quietly took their hands and stood. He nodded softly at their affirmations. He didn’t give himself as much faith as his sisters. Ghetsis had chosen him as the next leader, despite repeating that he didn’t have a human heart. Why would he entrust his carefully constructed organization to a freak like N?
Nonetheless, he gave his sisters a soft “Thank you” with a shivering voice as they guided him up to the podium.
Standing before Team Plasma was immediately overwhelming. Everything in the eerie silence was far too loud. The anticipation of the crowd awaiting N’s speech thickened the air into something somewhat unbreathable.
N couldn’t tear his eyes away from the casket. The Team Plasma logo was embossed on the lid. N knew he was the only person in this funeral who knew the state of the body encased inside. Ghetsis’s portrait sat in a wreath frame beside it. The flowers, fake and scentless in the rain, bore Team Plasma’s colors. Ghetsis’s image depicted a harsh straight line frown, not even one of his snide grins.
N cleared his throat, and the simple sound felt like a shockwave.
“Ghetsis was…well, my adoptive father. He was rather– …rather complicated.” N’s voice trailed off into murmurs. “He found me and he took me in. I don’t know where I’d be without him, really. Maybe in the woods somewhere, yeah…”
It was quiet for a moment. N drew in a weighted breath and forced himself to continue.
“When he…when he had Kyurem, I had a feeling something might, uhm, go wrong. I tried to save him. It wasn’t enough… I was never enough. The way he–”
N’s voice shattered as he spoke. The corners of his mouth trembled, and his eyes stung with tears. His mind kept going back to the image of Ghetsis’s violent passing as he traced the bruises hidden by his sleeve with his fingers.
“I don’t think I could ever unsee it. It was– I…for a second I couldn’t even process that he was- that he was gone. There was so much…so much blood.”
The rain picked up and N shuddered.
“I can’t– I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
N rushed down the stairs, holding his arm above his brow to protect himself from the downpour. In a panic, he hastily slinked into the crowd of Team Plasma grunts.
His sisters called out to him, but N could only pause briefly and give them a teary-eyed glance over the shoulder.
Anthea and Concordia both watched the purity and innocence they’d observed in N’s eyes begin to die. Those last embers of hope were drowning in the rain, and neither sister knew how to rekindle them.
N opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out. He stood in silence with his lips slightly parted, then disappeared entirely into the rainy afternoon.