你们好, or Hi Everybody in English.

I'm aware that my last chapter was short. Really, it took a bit too long to come up with what little was there. I'll try to make up for it in here. We'll get to see some stuff with Natexa—maybe even a nickname!?—and the whole team dynamic. Maybe a trainer battle. Maybe another phone number. Maybe I'm just tired of thinking about the intricacies of human relations and society. Who knows?

Comic ranting aside, I don't own Pokemon, comments and critiques and just plain weird/fun messages/emails/literally anything chill are more than welcome (TALK TO ME PLEASE), Life is a box of chocolates, the world is a lie, and all the usual stuff.

Let's be stealthy.

Stealthy as smooth jazz.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Where did your name come from?"

We were out in Route 101 again to train. Dayne could do Psychic-stuff with some strength, but he really preferred honing his hand-to-hand combat skills, which left a lot of fainted pokemon with bruises everywhere. Natexa, the young Absol that decided my team was fun, was a complete mystery to me: I didn't know how strong she was, what moves she knew, or her origins, hence my asking.

The feline was lounging under a tree near me when I asked, responding with a glance and a purr. I asked her again, prompting her casually walking forward and purring a relaxed "Sol" along my leg.

Right. Language barriers. I guess I was spoiled a little; having a Psychic-type as my starter was like talking to any other person, albeit much less annoying and with actual accomplishments. Most trainers probably had to deal with the language barrier, at least until they could get a grasp of what their Pokemon said. While I had a little cheat with Dayne, I'd have to pay for it with Natexa.

Which reminded me, "Your name?" I asked again, looking down at the white-haired Pokemon, who was now lounging between my feet. "nuh-ay-muh?"

She perked up at sounding out the word, retreating from my foliage-less legs to the dirt before us. Dayne popped onto my shoulder at that moment, with an immediate You sounded weird.

"I was just checking something." I turned to him, missing my other Pokemon raising her paw. I was punished with shots of dirt to the face. None of it tasted good, and there may have been a Wurmple in the mix. To this day, I'm glad that Dayne was working on his punching skills; I would have easily been poisoned otherwise.

Once I recovered, Dayne popped on my shoulder again, not thinking a word in my direction. Instead, there he was shuddering. I quickly turned, hoping he hadn't gotten poisoned or anything; instead I found the Psychic hugging his shoulders with a smirk on his face. Once he saw me, however, he stopped and hid all expression.

I then looked in front of me to see a smiling Absol, trace amounts of soil visible in her still-growing white fur, with her completely capitalized name dug into the dirt.

Even better, Dayne gave me a confused look. That doesn't look like anything.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Air" I was sitting against a nearby tree, Dayne still on my shoulder. The Ralts was confused as to what he was seeing, and only got annoyed when I got more into it. Natexa was still in the dirt, albeit not displacing any more local Pokemon. At my word, she started clawing her response in the soil.

We were playing a little game to test my Absol's vocabulary. I would say a word, and she would scrawl off the closest antonym she could think of. So far, she had tackled peace/war, red/green, and even alpha/omega. Now, I was finishing some of the more clear opposites before tackling some more … confusing ones.

This game is boring.

Looking to my shoulder showed me a pouting Ralts, who then teleported onto a stump a distance away. He wasn't looking at either of us. I needed to have a talk with him later, something was bugging him.

My distress at my starter was interrupted by a furry nuzzle and a happily-purred "sol" when my Dark-type bounded back to my side. Gesturing with her curved horn, she gestured at her handiwork, scrawled out in all capital letters as usual; EARTH.

I stroked her fur from her forehead down to the plumage that flowed away from her horn, earning a closer nuzzle and another purr. Absol weren't known for being warm, but Natexa broke that stereotype with ease. She also, somehow, knew how to read and write.

"This is the last round," We'd spent too much time on this game, and not nearly enough on training. I still didn't know how strong Natexa was, only how smart she was.

The feline before me whined softly, dirtied paws prodding at my pantlegs. Calming her down, I told her it was so I could test her in fighting later. She only sunk down to the ground, curled up, until I told her the next word. She immediately bounded back into the dirt, white fur getting further buried in the many granules of soil.

The Absol's face was intriguing while she was at work: her eyes were lasered onto what she was doing with her paws, her black claws carving the earth with purpose. She smiled the whole time.

The word she carved was HATE. Just as expected, given the prompt was "love".

She strutted back before me, expecting another word of praise. Covering my smile with a small sigh, I finally had the joy of telling her that she had made a small mistake.

Unbeknownst to me, Dayne had teleported onto an overlooking branch upon hearing my words. With close eyes, he kept to his stealthy vigil.

I found a long enough twig on the ground, among the many smaller ones that had been trod on by people and Pokemon before me, and carved another word into the dirt, sounding out each syllable. Natexa gazed upon my handiwork, written in the capital letters she was so familiar with, a small glimmer of awe in her visage. The visage of my starter held some confusion until he heard my words.

"Hate is like love. Both require that you care about whatever or whoever in some way, it can be positive or negative. The real opposite is not caring at all."

My Dark-type leaned over the word, studying it with a quiet zeal. My Psychic-type teleported onto her back, like a knight on a horse, and donned what I think was a look of respect.

The word I had written down was APATHY.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Just north of Oldale Town was a small route, a small lake, and a small meadow between the tall grass and the water. It was here that I planned to figure out what exactly was bothering Dayne, for all of the silence and space he had and the sparring he didn't want. Natexa was in her Pokeball; this conversation couldn't have any interruptions, no matter how pleasant.

"Dayne, come over here."

Without ceremony, he blinked into existence before me. There were bruises forming on his knuckles; he really did prefer punching the wild Pokemon to using his psychic abilities. That, or whatever was bugging him.

What do you want? He wasn't trying to sound bigger than he was anymore, the gravel disappearing from his thoughts. Instead, he was hurried, vying to go back to whatever mindset fighting put him in.

I crossed my legs and sat down, putting myself at eye level with him. "We need to talk."

Sensing this might take a while, he huffed himself into a sitting position, resting on his knees and calves.

Why?

"Why? Because we need to be a team."

Yeah, so?

"So…" so what? My starter wasn't doing anything to actively get in the way of our team's success. Sure, we hadn't battled any trainers since we got Natexa, but at the same time, there was something off, something that wasn't fitting right.

"So I just want to understand. It doesn't look like you don't like Natexa that much. Why?"

Why? I don't hate her or anything. There was a little acid in his thoughts. He was getting a little angry.

"Okay, there's a start. Are you angry?"

…. He nodded his head. Progress in any direction was good at this point.

"Who are you angry at? Is it a person?"

He shook his head, still silent. Him not thinking in my head was worrying me even more.

"Is it a Pokemon we've fought? A trainer? Natexa? Me?"

Dayne was curling up at this point, shaking his head to each prompt. His horn was starting to darken slightly, a deeper and blacker red than any I'd seen.

"Okay… It isn't me, it isn't anyone on the team, or anyone we've fought, or anything we've fought. Unless it's something I haven't seen yet," He shook his head again, his horn turning an uglier form of the blackened red, almost like his horns were charred.

Then it clicked. There was one, single Pokemon I knew that Dayne had never fought, one the Ralts could never fight, one who's inability to effectively use his psychic powers disgusted him to the point where he was hurting himself as much as the wild Pokemon around him: Dayne's anger was targeted inwards, at himself.

We haven't sparred at all… he whimpered. I was learning that anything that could be done with speech was easily mimicked in thoughts; the self-loathing and powerlessness in his voice cracked my soul. I thought it was because I was weak… and I want to be stronger…

He was holding back tears, trying to remain strong in what little way he could. Gently, I held his shoulders.

The pieces of the puzzle were coming together. Dayne wanted to be stronger, so he would constantly fight, even me when we first met. He was getting confidence in his psychic abilities when it was shattered by not being able to lift Natexa, her typing nullifying any power he could exert. To distance himself from needing those, he was honing his physical strength, pushing himself more than he had when we met to make up for it. He wanted to help her too, as much as I had, the helpless and burned thing she was; he was mad at himself because he couldn't do just that.

Before he could push my hands away, I shook him like there was a prize inside. With a shocked "Ra!", he teleported to his feet, a yard away.

"You're plenty strong." I needed him to see that he did nothing wrong. "We've just been busy is all," I planted a leg in front of me, distributing most of my weight into it. "and you don't need to prove anything to yourself." I held my hands in front of my face, clenching them into fists.

"If you really don't believe me, then we can stop right here and give up. But you are much stronger than when we started. I don't plan on having you stop here, and I doubt you want to stop. So let's move forward."

A single tear was allowed to escape the confines of the Ralts's wide eyes before he straightened his posture. I relaxed my stance when he bent from the hips in a bow, a sign of respect among proper fighters. I mused to myself about figuring out where he learned to fight before doing the same, copying his posture and movement.

We sparred until the sun set, returning to the Center in Oldale to get some food, well-earned rest, and some calm.