I just thought I should let you know that I am not doing this on my own time. Or out of my own free will. My mother decided it was best for me to fill out a journal, a way to vent out my hidden emotions. Blargh to her. I'm fifteen, I think I can handle myself.

She just doesn't get it sometimes.

I guess I should tell you about myself before I rant, right? Whatever. My name is Nathaniel Niveus, but my friends just call me Nate. I'm fifteen, as you know.

And today...Today is the start of everything.

I shut my journal as my friends entered the classroom. I only managed to befriend two other students at the trainer school, probably due to my peculiar brain and my habit of brooding. Rosa, a girl with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair she pulled into buns on the sides of her head, and Hugh, who had spiky dark hair and deep red eyes.

No wonder we were outcasts- we were different than the dull, soon-to-be trainers.

Plus, there was something else I didn't like to mention in front of...Well, normal people.

Ever since Mom and I moved to Asperita City a few years ago, something has been haunting me. Literally. A ghost who calls himself "Black". "Black" because that's how most of his memory is.

I don't understand why he chose me to cling on to, but it has gotten me in so much trouble over the past few years. All I knew is that he was murdered- and the same went for him.

"I'm so bored." Black always decided to do this in public- talk to me, expecting an answer. He probably thought it was funny to see me suffer.

"Shut up…" I uttered back, getting weird glances from people. Hugh and Rosa say I have a voice in my head- they don't know the half of it.

Hugh sat next to me, looking around before saying, "Three kids are gonna be given Pokémon today." He explained.

"Really?" I replied.

"Yeah! There's a battle tournament, I think, and the winner and the runner-ups get to pick one!" Rosa butted-in, hyper and ecstatic as always. "I think you'll win, Nate! You're such a good battler!"

I was only a good battler because of Black- he must have been a very adept trainer when he was alive. If he wasn't there, I would clamp up in anxiety and I wouldn't know what to do. Black was my only advice- and the only thing he was good for was for battling.

"I don't know…" I trailed off, sliding my journal into my bag. "Hugh'll beat me for sure."

The only other person in the class who had a possibility of beating me was Hugh. It was so natural for him. He could probably be the champion if he tried. But I never thought that was his goal in mind. There is something about Hugh that always set people off- a number one reason why he was in our group of "misfits".

"I guess we'll just have to see." He muttered, watching as the teacher came in.

Mr. Cheren, who was only a couple of years older than his own students, was a heck of a lot smarter than some of them. He was once a student of Professor Juniper- the number-one professor in all of Unova. He quit, though, after a big fight or something. The rumors say so many different things I wouldn't know which was true.

He cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of all the students in the room. "As some of you are aware, we're having a tournament today. The winners, in first, second and third place respectively, will be able to get a Pokémon from Professor Juniper. This also means you are allowed to leave on your journey earlier than the rest, and your trainer card will be certified."

Gasps and murmurs echoed through the classroom.

"The rules are just like any other tournament. A one-on-one battle, with your own or borrowed Pokémon." Mr. Cheren didn't need to explain much more about the rules- we all knew how tournaments worked. "How many of you brought your own Pokémon today?"

Hands went up across the room, including my own. Parents would take their kids out to Route Nineteen or Floccesy Ranch to get their own Pokémon. My father, when he was still alive, took me to the Ranch when I was seven, catching me my first Pokémon.

I'm not going to dwell much about my father, because I barely knew him- trainer, musician, died in a plane crash. That's all I remembered.

"Those of you who do not have Pokémon, please grab one from the rack." Each classroom has a rack of Pokéballs full of the simplest ones imaginable- Patrat, Lillipup, Purrloin, and there was even a Rattata.

Three students rushed up- I knew them to be Jerome, Dwight and Olive- and picked out a Pokémon. It's not that they were irresponsible, it's that...Well, they're partially irresponsible. They've been the head bullies in everything since first grade, according to Rosa. Besides Hugh, back then Jerome was the best battler.

Then I came to town. Although they make fun of my "voices in my head", they can't beat me at battling.

I glanced quickly to Black, who floated beside my desk. Well, us.

"I'll be back in a few moments. Please, don't jump out the window again." The plea was directed right to Dwight, who had decided "f*ck school" and jumped out of the window. He wasn't found until later that day, at his house.

Dwight had a nervous grin on his face before his group glared back at ours. It was a constant fight, whenever we had battle class they would always demand a triple battle, or a rotation battle, with us. If one of us was missing, even better. Mr. Cheren always pulled it down to a double battle, so it never mattered. Oh, and did I forget to mention we kick their ass every time?

"A tournament." Black grinned, landing in front of me so he could chat. It would be forever a one-sided conversation, however. "Are you gonna need my assistance, again, Nate?"

"Yeah…" I uttered under my breathe.

"What was that?"

He heard me, but just liked to play with me like that. It's the frustration from being called "crazy" he seemed to enjoy the most. Black rolled his eyes after he realized I wasn't going louder. Nor was I paying attention.

Hugh, Rosa and I glared as the other group started to amble towards us. Hugh stood up, pushing his creaky desk chair behind him, glaring at Dwight. Rosa tried to ignore the glare of Olive, but knew it wasn't going to stop.

Jerome stopped in front of my desk, his brown eyes studying every detail of me. Not much has changed, really, so I saw no reason to. Maybe he was thinking I was starting to go crazy. "So, a tournament today, eh?"

His breath smelled of tobacco. We aren't allowed to have it in school, there's no doubt that he had a pack of it in his pocket.

"Best of luck, Nate."

I never liked that kid. Black grinned, floating next to me.

The tournament had begun. I was up against someone who held no true importance in the story- a guy named Frederick, who had light blonde hair, the palest, whitest skin imaginable, and grey eyes. Rumors were that he was blind when he was younger, but Zekrom visited him and gave his sight back.

Rumors can be the craziest thing, I tell you.

"Patrat, I choose you!" The small, brown pokemon popped out, its red and yellow eyes glaring at me.

"Riolu, go!" I had the type advantage in the fight, at least. But it wouldn't stop my mouth from going dry and my chest from tightening. My doctor said it was some sort of battle anxiety that I've had since I was four, but it should go away in a few years. But he said that when I was nine.

Doubt it.

Black landed next to me, giving me not only a second pair of eyes, but a sense of tranquility. He was an annoying bitch most of the time, but he knew when to stop and when to help. "Patrat and Riolu? High Jump Kick is an egg move, right?"

"Patrat, tackle."

I didn't have time to respond before I quickly yelled out, "Riolu, dodge and High Jump Kick!"

The Emanation Pokémon jumped out of the way of the Tackle, dealing a kick to the Patrat's left side, sending it flying. A one-hit KO for me. I advanced into the next round, breathing heavily.

"You did good, Nate." Black said. "Let's win this!"

"Sure." I said in reply, getting a glare from a girl next to me.