I've seen the way you look at him.

Your bright eyes shimmer for the briefest of moments; a smile ghosts across your face instinctively. Even as your fist connects with his cheek, it's obvious you love him. You could scream at him for hours and even the most careless observer could tell that he will always be in your heart.

And he can deal with the abuse – he deserves it and accepts it. He wears his bruises as badges of honor and usually proceeds to crack another joke, an easy grin on his face. Is that why you love him, for his pride, his courage, his sense of humor? I'll admit these are valuable qualities. He's always been a good friend and a powerful teammate. I can't hate him, no matter how hard I try. Why don't I hate him? This would be so much less painful if I could only bring myself to hate him.

Of course, it would be nice if we could all be so lighthearted, but it's hardly a reliable strategy when saving our planet from evil. One of us has to be calm and collected, always ready for a crisis. One of us has to be strong enough for everyone to lean on. One of us has to be the sage. And I could always handle it, couldn't I?

I used to smile, laugh, cry – but those simple joys have been stolen from me. I made the choice to die and to be reborn, but it doesn't erase the agony of my own existence. I no longer have the capacity to feel pain. And the irony is that this absence of pain is what hurts the most. I can handle physical pain; perhaps it has something to do with my daily meditation. I learn mastery of the Power Primate and fight for control of my own spirit. I was successful for a time, but love isn't contained, conformed, dissolved. It's wild and reckless and free and so many other things that I could never be. Love is bold and brave and kind and sweet. Love has fur the color of sunshine and gorgeous rosy eyes. Love was very nearly murdered by the Soul of Evil.

I'm beginning to think that's what prompted this – the Soul of Evil and with it the realization that you may someday be taken away from me without warning. Would things be any better if you knew what this was like? Sprx nearly murdered you. Maybe he can be forgiven, but I finally discovered my true greatest weakness. And I just stood there, paralyzed with fear, while he tore you apart. It was worse when you gave your confession. And now you two spend every minute possible together.

Death isn't possible for robots, only dormancy. Maybe it would be better to just sleep alone until our solar system ceases to exist. But I can't give up. It's simply not an option for me; Chiro needs me. The Hyperforce needs me. And there are small moments of happiness and hope in this sea of darkness and loss. I've always been a mentor to you, a brother, a friend. It's a curse and a blessing – because my love is unrequited, but I can always be here for you. That's all I need to know sometimes.

I love you. I can say it freely now. I love you, Nova. That's what's wrong.

-Antauri

The silver monkey scowled and crumpled up the piece of paper in his hand, both sides covered with his cramped, careful handwriting. He sat with his head in his hands and sighed – the quick tap on his shoulder startled Antauri thoroughly, a rare occurrence.

"Antauri?" Nova asked hesitantly.

"Forgive me," he said softly. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Aw, that's okay," she replied with a characteristic smile. "I've been working on a new energy attack in training – wanna come see it?"

"I'd love to."

And they set off towards the training room together, the ink-smeared letter still clenched in Antauri's hand.