The pikachu stopped, and stray sparks flew from his cheeks. In the darkness of the cave, he stood and sniffed the air, nose up and ears drawn back, alert. The trainer came walking, approached, and stopped. His red cap was obscuring his eyes as he bent down; his hand almost touched the pikachu's head, and the two shared a glance. And then, as though they had agreed, both resumed walking.

It was almost, thought N, as though they could talk. This trainer really did seem very promising.

Nevertheless N was glad he hadn't been noticed. The trainer seemed to be seeking something, and N was comfortable following from a distance, observing. It was unexpected to find a trainer here, as the resident pokemon had told N they had never seen another human prior to him. N had believed he had found it, this place, this world where pokemon and humans lived separately, and in this utopia he thought he could learn what pokemon and humans were without trainers, or battles, or leagues around.

And the trainer came.

And N told the pokemon to stay hidden, warily eyeing the balls on the trainer's belt, and the wild pokemon remained unharmed, and N followed.

The lickitungs were very eager to know about N, who, all things considered, was one of theirs who looked a lot different. N related that he was raised by woobats, Asha and Kale and Ravi and all the rest (it took many woobats, explained N to his confounded audience, to raise but one of their own young, let alone something so feeble as a human baby). That was him silencing a few variables, such as the terrible man he once thought of as his father, and the prison he once thought of as his castle; but here, with the lickitungs, he was quite happy indeed to be king of nothing at all, and apprentice of all the world.

In their den in a deep stretch of the already remote caverns, N could have stopped, and rested, and kept eating their food, and entirely forgotten about Pikachu and Red Cap.

"Intruders!"

Long-Sweet-Death (pronounced licklick'ttt' with tongue half-unrolled), the chieftain, ran towards a cliff that overlooked the room nearest the entrance of the den. He looked down, then at N, then back down, and finally motioned for him to come forth.

At first N couldn't see, in the dim deep down. But then there was red in a flash of light – no, lightning – there was red and Red Cap and red cheeks almost rippling with power, and thunder rumbling, inside, destroying the equilibrium and changing the formula – a parasect, unconscious, hurt.

"Is it from your family?" asked Wraps-Crushes-Rock (tungtunguh, from the throat, tongue rolled close against the mouth).

"No, he's..."

N hesitated. Red Cap was a human, yes, and N was a failed hero because he failed to understand his fellow humans, yes. But when it came to his respect for others' land, their sanctuary, their formulas, Red Cap wasn't accepting any truth but his own.

"He's one who fights people to become their chieftain," said N. Their king. Long-Sweet-Death banged his tongue against the rock wall in disapproval.

And then, in a loud cracking noise, a few stalactites fell: Long-Sweet-Death had jumped from his observatory, right behind the parasect, and shoved Red Cap to the ground with his tongue. Immediately Pikachu answered: the tongue, shaken by a jolt of electricity, remained paralyzed, and N and Wraps-Crushes-Rock watched in horror as additional discharges ran through Long-Sweet-Death, who was powerless even to scream.

Long-Sweet-Death did not go entirely without fight. He did succeed in stretching his tongue enough to wrap it around the smaller pokemon; that bought him no respite, as there seemed to be no limit to the electricity in Pikachu's cheeks.

"Yet another victory!" shouted Pikachu, jumping up and down near the trainer, who wordlessly shook its tiny hand. Next to N, Wraps-Crushes-Rock wagged her tail in worry. She was to be the next chieftain, so N supposed she felt duty calling to defend her tunnels from the little challenger and the human. N respectfully touched her belly in warning, advising her not to move just yet.

Indeed, down below, Red Cap seemed to lift his hand, outstretch his arm, throw something, and, soon enough, a great red light engulfed Long-Sweet-Death, and transported it far away to a long sweet sleep. N felt anger rising at the trainer for wasting that place, that secluded place that had likely never known a Poké Ball before. N himself had used these terrible machines, a short time ago when he was king, but he had left them behind with his previous life, keeping only his dragon friend for as long as it would accept him. Renouncing their use had been a way to renounce the false prophet Ghetsis who had provided them, who had drawn him away from humans and pokemon and himself, and it had been relief, a bit of real life come back to him.

Down, Red Cap had now adjusted his cap, and, with Pikachu upon his head and the parasect forgotten, just left.

Pikachu was talking. Red Cap sometimes seemed to answer with a nod or short movement, but for the most part, he remained staring at some glinting trinket in the firelight. N wondered if the trainer really understood the pikachu, like N himself did, or had merely grown accustomed enough to the pokemon's cries and growls to isolate patterns in them. The real hero... the one who had taught N how little he was taught before... would have understood, N knew. Because that one was a true friend of pokemon.

Pikachu called Red Cap "Red" in their discussions in camp. Perhaps that was his real name, or perhaps he had never told his name even to this close friend. Pikachu spoke of their victories, and the dampness of the caves, and this one thick stalactite back two tunnels, and how there was no rare pokemon they hadn't seen, except, it was told, the rarest of them all awaiting them. N warmed up to Red then; no pokemon would ramble that much to a trainer they feared or hated.

One by one, Red took the Poké Balls from his belt and released the pokemon within in a cacophony of cries. They stomped around a little; Pikachu argued with an espeon about which of them would get the honours of fighting the final battle. Finally, they all, even Red, curled up against the charizard's huge belly. Their fire went out, and there was no light but for the flame on the charizard's tail.

N went to sleep, too, and felt strangely alone. He thought of his dragon friend, and all he had learned then, and trusted in his ideals, hoping that his waking dreams might seep into his nights, and keep him safe.

N waded through the currents in the deepest reaches of the dungeon. Trying not to slip on the wet rocks as he made his way downhill, he could see Red seemingly floating above the surface of the subterranean lake, obviously surfing on one of his pokemon. There were much fewer wild pokemon in this room, as though they had been driven away by something. Even in the water, the kingler he had to watch for and introduce himself to upstream had gone, and the cave was utterly silent.

An overpowering feeling suddenly ran through N. He knew that feeling; it was a form of vaguely apprehensive anger, like when he was small and unexpected visitors would come to his room to fetch him for a lesson, or give him another poor wretch of a stolen pokemon that couldn't talk. Here it was stronger, and also more surprised, as if he didn't really expect anyone to be entering that room for all of eternity -

N was falling downstream over the rocks. He had been so concerned with the sudden emotion that he hadn't watched his footing; he tried to hold on to the cave walls but they eroded under his hands. There were no friends to help in sight or hearing – N wondered if that was that, if that was were failed heroes came to die, and thought of the real hero, with the other dragon.

N was breathing. His eyes were so wet; he tried to dry them with anything, with his arms (was that blood on his arms?), with his drenched clothing, with his limp hair – and, failing, painfully attempted to open them.

Red cheeks set on a yellow face stared back, and Pikachu smiled.

"Thank you," said N to the pokemon. At this, Pikachu suddenly looked up, and so did N, to find Red, his cap pushed out of his face, his eyes wide. It was the first time N had seen his eyes, which were warm and brown, and for some reason N had thought he would be a relatively recent trainer, still hungry for adventure, but it seemed he was N's own age, at least.

Red let go of N's shirt, and sat back, still looking at him. All were on top of a large, swimming pokemon – perhaps a blastoise.

"My name is N," said N. "I was something like a trainer once, but no longer. I am only a traveler now."

Red nodded, though he didn't seem to quite believe him.

"We're here to find a legendary pokemon," said Pikachu. "Ten years we've trained, away from the world, just for this day." Heroes.

On the island before them a solitary silhouette stood. It did not make any movement towards them, but N knew it was aware of their presence: the feeling, that feeling, was back.

As Pikachu, Red and N got off the blastoise onto the eroded shore of the small island, the silhouette turned. It was a pokemon, taller than most men, gray in colour. The eerie purple-tinted light that served as the only light source in this room of the cave seemed to emanate from it.

For a moment all three stood there, watching the legendary pokemon and letting it watch them; but then, Red took a step forward.

He was promptly flung into the water by a psychic attack.

"Red!" cried Pikachu.

N looked into the pokemon's narrowed eyes. It was unlike any pokemon he had seen before, and unlike most he'd read about, with only his tail reminiscent of the ancestor of all pokemon, Mew.

"Hello," said N. "I do not wish to fight you. I'm a friend of pokemon; I only wish to talk."

The pokemon did not answer. It was almost as though it was not able to; but finally, a voice echoed inside N's head.

"Then leave," it said. "Leave, human, who are weak like the rest of your species. Leave, human, who lie like them all."

N stepped back. "I have met many humans who lied to pokemon," said N, not quite knowing how much he was going to tell the pokemon, "and many who used them... but I have also met, at least one, perhaps more... who truly do relate to them as equals... as friends... who -"

Bright white light suddenly replaced the purple glow, as lightning struck the pokemon in the middle of N's sentence. Pikachu had tried to raise himself to his whole height (which barely reached the other pokemon's calf), surrounded by sparks, while Red, coughing up water, was back on the island.

The pokemon slowly lifted one of its hands. It was prehensile, with short fingers. It barely twitched one of the fingers; quickly, too quickly, a large rock emerged from the ground right under Red. Pikachu tried to tackle him out of the way, and they both fell down on the ground, a long, bloody tear up the side of Red's jacket.

At this, the pokemon –was it smiling?- turned back to N. "You don't care about fights," the voice reiterated. "I do. I will fight all of you," it sneered, "until none are left, or until all are powerless, which is quite the same, really. I will fight for the way I think I should live. Don't humans all get to do that?"

N thought that was reasonable, but hoped to make the pokemon less aggressive. Some of the recruits of Team Plasma had been like this – so concerned about their ideals and their right to fight for them, but mostly about the victories on the way there and the look on their defeated opponents' faces – but this pokemon was far more dangerous than the average loose Plasma cannon.

"My name is N," he tried. "What's yours?"

"They called me Mewtwo. But it doesn't matter, now. I do not allow humans close enough for them to know my name, or me to care about theirs."

"Hey!" interjected Pikachu, who was hunched over Red's wound, ineffectually trying to press his clothing against it. "You can't do that, it's against the rules. You don't attack the trainers!"

"The day I decide to take orders from slaves," echoed Mewtwo's voice in N's head, "you'll be the first to know."

"Mewtwo," said N, "I only tell the truth. Look through my mind; see the dragons of Unova, and see my friend, and the ideals I had, and what they almost wrought."

And Mewtwo looked. N felt it bring up the memories inside his mind, testing them against each other like it was solving an invisible puzzle.

A showdown in a castle that should never have been built, for a king that never ruled. Reshiram and Zekrom, who fought like two halves of a whole that should never have been split.

N after the battle, healing the pokemon that had fought with him and thanking them, asking them where they would go next, wishing them luck.

Pokemon shouting and skipping around a trainer to celebrate their victory, and the trainer celebrating with them.

The fight itself.

Team Plasma – those members who followed the ideals and those who did not – all with pokemon. Stolen, caught, befriended – all next to their new trainers, whether they cared or not for the outcome.

Ghetsis holding a pokemon, encouraging N to talk with it - "You can talk to any pokemon, N, such is your gift"- the pokemon was immobile -"Go ahead, N, I know you can do it"- N trying and failing, over, and over, and over...

That one was much older. What was Mewtwo trying to do?

The dragon fighting N's battle. A legendary pokemon – a force of nature – almost a god – and its hero... its "hero"...

"You have shown me nothing I didn't know," said Mewtwo to N's mind. "For some reason, in this world, pokemon will fight, will kill, will die, for the humans who have caught them. Except me. In this way," it mused, "I am special. They call me a 'legendary' pokemon, but I'm not really, of course. I'm but ten years old. I have no higher purpose – some would say, now that I have no trainer, no purpose at all. I seek no hero, know no master, acknowledge no -"

Mewtwo turned briefly to Red and Pikachu.

"This human," its voice said, "asks me to spare his pokemon, who have not chosen to hurt me, merely to obey him." It paused. "You would probably answer... you would probably answer, N... that this is a mysterious, exceptional 'friend of pokemon', by all accounts a hero... that he, in a word, deserves me..." It seemed almost laughing. "I am not a favor to be granted!"

And now N's truth and ideals failed him both; perhaps that was why, when they first came across the cave, his dragon had told him he needed to go alone, and then left.

Mewtwo looked down at Red and Pikachu and soothened his tone. "It doesn't matter whether you or your slaves live or die. I only want you and your kind and your trainer delusion out of here. I want this place to remain pure, and to suit my ideal. I don't go around enslaving your people and marching on your cities. I know it is much, being as I am a pokemon, to ask for the same consideration. So I am not asking."

Red cringed, but did not answer. In retrospect, N had never heard him talk, and he wondered if humans who didn't talk did so for the same reasons as pokemon who didn't talk, and suddenly felt even more compassion for Red than had been inspired by seeing him nearly split in two.

"That's just cowardly," said Pikachu, and N and Mewtwo both turned to him in surprise. Mewtwo's arm tensed. "Clearly," and Pikachu gestured to both him and Red, "waiting ten years alone in a cave did us no good. That's not how you prepare yourself to face anything in the world, staying in that one secluded room and getting more and more angry at what you could or couldn't have ten years back," he continued more and more quickly, as though he wanted to get it all out before Mewtwo found another way to hurt the both of them.

"We did all that to eventually get here... beat the most powerful pokemon... and all that for today? What good do you do with that power, anyway? I suppose you're not the greatest pokemon at all. It takes more than power to get to greatness."

I've never known what any pokemon friend I've had thought of this, thought N. But then, I never asked. It was like a hidden parameter, and Pikachu knew its value all along.

Mewtwo slowly dragged the arm it had raised back down, fingers freeing themselves from an imaginary grip and coming down loose by the pokemon's side.

"What greatness do you have," asked its voice softly, "that isn't your human's, that cannot be used against you?"

There was a moment of silence, but Red and Mewtwo's faces took on a series of different expressions. They were still talking.

After a time, Mewtwo turned away from them, crossing its arms.

"Though Pikachu and Red have chosen to make their own sort of legend, and learn their truth and ideals through the same journey,"said N, "there's no need for you, Mewtwo, to do the same. You can just leave here, and hear the different opinions all around the world, and meet the humans and the pokemon; make then the sort of world your ideals show to you, and truth shows to others."

"That isn't what that mind you showed me said. There were dragons, legendary pokemon, and there were the human heroes they chose, or were tricked by, whichever you think; all legendary pokemon, I hear, must choose a hero sometime, and that's why they made me, so that I really would have no choice. I don't care about getting to pick my hero."

"Well," said N, "surely you can be a hero." It still made sense to N that a pokemon could fill the roles humans could, in their own way and societies, and create a region of their own, like human heroes had created Unova. "You don't even need to find a legendary pokemon to think you are worth it. You have that power yourself! It's just that you won't know how to use it anymore than Pikachu or I... if you don't go and leave and learn eventually."

"Make the world that my ideals show to me," Mewtwo was thinking, so loud all could hear it. "I don't know that I've ever thought much about ideals, except of course that it would be a much more ideal world if there were no trainers."

N knew exactly what the pokemon meant.

The purple glow was fading; N looked around, scared, as the water currents grew faster, and pokemon noises could be heard in the distance. Mewtwo was still not facing him, and he wondered whether the pokemon would now kill them all, just because it could. N had met fierce pokemon, proud pokemon, pokemon who had suffered at the hands of humans, and wanted revenge, and of course legendary pokemon before. But only Mewtwo was truly frightening, as though it had lived through all those horrors, and at the same time not lived at all.

The room went dark.

Then there was light. There was quite a lot of light. In fact, N realized once opening his eyes stopped hurting, they were outside the cave, facing the lake and seeing Mt Moon beyond.

Red and Pikachu were next to him, Red still unable to stand. Before them all, Mewtwo now looked at N.

"N..." it said to his mind. "... let us see... which of us first finds out what power is worth using for."

It left, or rather vanished, just as the entrance to the cave collapsed upon itself, leaving Wraps-Crushes-Rock and friends to well-deserved peace.

And in the sky, circling above them, had reappeared one particular, dragon-shaped, legendary pokemon.