Gigas: Hey! Thanks! I love switching perspectives, so I'm glad it's not done badly XD! Thank you so much!
Phyllis: 'ey, Taze is mine. -evil laugh- ...ooh, pizza? GIMME.
KiddDragon: Heh...you think that's emo? Just you wait. XD Ehe, just kiddin..thanks for the review, man!
SaberChan: Ee, yay! Your reviews make me all fuzzyhappy.
YetAnotherAnonymous: Oh, I see. Well, I love anonymous fans! -gives you cookies- ...and ooh, if I ever decide I need a beta-er I'll tell you. D
Avaleia: Thankyee! And..hmm...uh, -shifty eyes- you'll just have to wait and see? XD
NightNeko-Jin: AHA, Really? XD That's awesome. Yay, I made someone laugh! XDD -spins around- And yeah...Lord Narky is special. :3 So is Jenny. I wanted to make her extra 'special'. XDD
bobobo: Thanks! And yay for interesting long chapters! XD And...yep, Saino will make more appearances! In this arc, especially.
CrystalHeart27: Well, here's an update! Hope you like D
JoshDW: YOMIGOSH. Thanks so much for that review. -swoons- That's all so helpful to know. And I'm so glad you like it! D
BlakeWilson: Aw, thanks! And really? I swear her hair's pink! XD Maybe I'm colorblind..ohnoes!
Lnign Wrmag: Thank you for the review! n.n 'tis appreciated. Scarfshipping okay, then? XD

Thanks so much for reviewing, guys! And thanks to the closet readers (for reading!), as well. XD Here's the next chapter. It's kind of a filler, but not really. Ehh, I dunno what to call it. "A Taze Special," I guess. It's on the short side -- I'm thinking of bringing short chapters back, but updating more often, like once every four days or so.

Anyway, enjoy the first part of the Eterna Gym arc!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Not Quite Good to Go

Taze Damion Kidane turned a corner, his breath short, his shoes slapping against the brick road. His lungs tightened as he pushed himself off of the ground with every stride he took, forcing himself to keep going even though his legs were burning, calves aching, feet throbbing.

He hadn't been on a run in a very long time. But he actually could remember the last time he put his running shoes on and went out into the world, going wherever his feet took him. He remembered it so lucidly, even though he didn't want to.

The day he quit running… he didn't like thinking about that stormy day, the day he lost all hope in himself. He had let down his coaches, his teammates, and especially himself, all in the course of seventeen measly minutes.

Taze knew he was going to win. He had been training for that race his entire life: the regional Sinnoh middle school cross-country meet. It might've sounded petty, but at the time, it was a huge deal to him.

Running had been his life. He could run forever, they told him. He wasn't a sprinter at all costs, but he had the long legs and lean body meant for a distance runner. He could hold a pace that was fast enough to win all of his meets throughout middle school. All except the one that mattered most. He'd run into a block that day, just couldn't push himself through the final stretch. His legs felt constrained, leashed, unlike they usually did. Abruptly, his most valued prowess had fizzled. He'd been leading the race for the first thirteen minutes. During the last four, the guy who'd been trailing behind him the whole time took the lead, and that's when he hit the brick wall.

Five thousand meters. Just under seventeen minutes. The second fastest middle school runner in Sinnoh.

With one loss, Taze let himself go. Lost his grip on his life.

Maybe it was such a shock because he had been so accustomed to winning. He hadn't lost a race in his two-year cross-country career, with, of course, the exception of the most important one. He was supposed to win. Supposed to go on to high school and dominate the trails, win Regionals, then Nationals…

After that single race, he couldn't face himself anymore. His mother, Teresa, told him he was being too tough on himself: people lost. It was a principle of life. Nobody could win everything. But, in contrast to Taze, losers also typically got over themselves.

And for some reason, he couldn't.

And that was when he stopped caring. Winning, or even trying, no longer mattered to him. All the adrenaline he used to get while thinking of motoring across the finish line at a meet no longer swelled deep in his throat and stomach. Nothing mattered anymore, it seemed. He hit rock bottom, progressively starting to feel sorry for himself all of the time. And when he started his journey, he didn't care that he lost. Nor did he care about winning. Initially, he didn't care about the fact that Dawn overshadowed him and could hammer him in any battle… now; it was starting to wind him up. She was like a fly that wouldn't stop buzzing in his ear. She wouldn't go away. She wouldn't stop winning.

But…winning was overrated.

He'd let go of his running dream to go on this journey. He'd said no to high school for this.

But what was this, exactly? As of now, it seemed like one big mistake, cleanly being added to his lengthy list of blunders. He wasn't accomplishing anything, really. He was, for the most part, just being lugged around and becoming more disheartened each day. His depression was skyrocketing – he must have been starting to become a burden to Lucas and Dawn. He'd lost so much in so little time, it felt like. Including his friendship with Dawn… and somehow, even himself.

And when he was all done with his journey, this waste of time, he'd go back to high school, start over like he'd never set foot out of Twinleaf Town. He'd just be another student in a flurry of nobodies, catching up on the school he'd missed. He'd go on to graduate, then go on to college and get a real job and forget that any of this had even happened. So in the end, was all this pain really worth it? Being a trainer was an expected route for children over ten: they usually left at any time they wished before graduating high school. It all varied. But what if he had been one of the few who never left? Somehow, he felt like he wouldn't be missing much.

Apart from his state of mind, his physical appearance itself was haunting. Taze avoided mirrors like the plague. He couldn't bear to see the dark bags sagging beneath his dull amber eyes, or the dead look that seemed to settle in his pupils. Indubitably, Darkrai was taking over.

He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. Everything he ate, by hook or by crook, would torrent its way back up his throat. His stomach felt ill and rigid almost every second of the day. And the nightmares. They were the worst of all. They usually involved Dawn or Lucas or Pokey and sometimes even his mother. Taze would be conscious, yet unable to control his own body. He would murder the people close to him, without blinking an eye. His outer self, presumably Darkrai taking over, would laugh hysterically as blood stained his own shirt and skin, as the eyes of his friends screamed out for help in a final, gasping breath.

And inside, Taze would be crumbling. Paralyzed with terror. Unable to do anything. He couldn't do a single thing as he watched himself murder the people closest to him. It was a nightmare, but it felt so incredibly real and raw.

Every time he jerked awake, he'd be shaking violently. Hot sweat would be dripping from every crevice of his quivering, panicked body. He'd leap out of bed and check to make sure he really hadn't killed Dawn or Lucas. Sure enough, they would be sound asleep; unaware of what he was going through. Sometimes he'd stare at their faces for hours, porcelain in the silvery shafts of moonlight filtering through the window. A part of him thought that if he tore his eyes away from them, they might be mutilated and horrible the next time he looked back.

Of course, Taze hadn't told anyone the extremities of these night terrors. He'd mentioned he'd been having nightmares to Dawn and Lucas, but nothing more than that. He hadn't spoken a word about ever meeting face-to-face with Darkrai in the Old Chateau in Eterna Forest about a week earlier.

He was too scared to admit something was wrong. A part of him hoped that if he just ignored it for as long as he could, everything would stop.

But he knew he was wrong.

That's what scared him the most.

Taze panted, slowing down his pace as he went down a slim hill out of a park and into the square. The sound of his shoes slapping against the brick ground reverberated through the empty plaza. He slowed to a complete stop. Huffing, threw his arms over his head. His shins felt like they were being pricked by needles, his quads like they were being suffocated. But all the pain felt so good.

He sprawled out on a bench that was situated in front of a giant and very old looking statue of a Pokemon. It was tall, stretching high above him. He looked up at it as he tried to catch his breath. It resembled some sort of equine Pokemon, with a powerful and lingering presence: its head was small compared to its strong body, with a long mane cascading behind it. The pointed feet were tinged with gold – the only part of the statue that hadn't been faded or crumbled in time. Scripture appeared to be inscribed at the base of the statue, but it was impossible to make out.

Taze sat up, resting his hands on his knees. He looked at his belt where his three Pokeballs sat, and at his Pokedex, which was clipped onto it as well. He reached for it, flipped it open and stared at the address book of the built-in cell phone division of the Pokedex.

The second number on the list was one he hadn't dialed with the PokeDex yet. He hadn't spoken to the person it belonged to in a couple of months, at least. Which was sort of sad, considering the number belonged to his father.

Taze punched the dial key before he could change his mind. He waited anxiously as it rang, a pit of butterflies steadily growing in his stomach. He half expected to get the answering machine – Palmer Kidane was a busy man; Taze wasn't expecting him to stop in the middle of his morning to have a chat with his son.

So, Taze was staggered when he heard the scraping noise of the phone being picked up, and then a deep throat clearing itself.

"Hello?"

Taze lowered his eyes at his Pokedex, disabling the videophone function before it could turn on. He didn't want his dad seeing him like this, looking so absolutely…pathetic.

"…dad?" Taze was still breathless. He inhaled sharply, trying to get his wind back.

There was a bit of a silence before Palmer spoke. "…Taze! I haven't heard from you in a long time. What's up, kiddo?" His voice was terse and forced. Taze knew he was trying to sound happy to be talking to him.

"Er…sorry for bothering you. I know you must be busy and all…but seeing as I haven't talked with you in a long time, I just wanted to catch up, I guess. I hope this isn't a bad time or anything—"

"No, this is a perfect time. So tell me, how is your journey going? And why isn't the video screen working? Ehh--" Taze could hear tapping on his dad's line.

"Sorry. Mine is…broken," he fibbed. Suddenly, the screen on his Pokedex flickered, and the image of his father appeared. He had his usual five-o-clock shadow, and his eyes were tired, in the vein of Taze's. His blond hair was a spiky mess -- as the Battle Tower Tycoon, he didn't look very professional. Then again, it was only nine A.M., so knowing him; he'd only just rolled out of bed. He took a sip from his coffee mug and took in a breath, relaxing down into a plush red chair.

"Ahh. That's the stuff. So, one-way work for you? You can see me now, right?"

"Uh…yeah. I can see you."

"So tell me all about the journey so far. You got a Turtwig from Rowan, right?"

Taze nodded absently before remembering his father couldn't see him. "Ah—yeah. He evolved recently, though. His name is Pokey. …Dawn named him that."

"Hn. Dawn. Derek's daughter." Palmer paused, licking his lips, and he slouched farther into his chair. "Haven't heard from him in a while…"

"He's not at home much anymore. That's what mom tells me, at least. Or, he wasn't before we left for the journey. I dunno about now. …Things could have changed." Taze looked down at his legs. They were trembling. Perhaps he wasn't ready for this, after all. But he needed to tell someone. He needed someone to know that something was wrong with him.

Palmer nodded. "Indeed. So, have you been running?"

Wincing at the irony, Taze said, "I just went on one. A run, I mean. A short one, just a few miles or so. It was my first one since…Regionals…"

"Ah." Palmer knew not to talk about that; it was a mistake to have even brought up the subject of running in the first place. He was a seasoned long distance runner himself, so he was interested in that sort of thing. "You have…how many badges now?"

"Just…one," murmured Taze. One that I don't deserve…"But we're – I mean, me and the people I'm traveling with – are challenging Gardenia later today."

"Excellent. Good luck, son. I think you'll do well."

"I don't think so." Taze narrowed his eyes down at the ground, away from his father's face. He didn't want to look at him right now.

"Aww, c'mon now, kiddo. What makes you say that?"

"I'm not a very good trainer. Dawn and Lucas…the people I'm traveling with… they're much better. They win all the time. Dawn hasn't lost a battle. She brags about it all the time. And I… I practically got destroyed by Roark. I've won my fair share of battles, but I'm just…always…overshadowed, you know?"

Palmer was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, fingers stroking his chin. "Hmm…you know, once I think about it, I think I had the same problem when I was first starting on my journey."

Taze rolled his eyes. His dad did this all the time: try to make him feel better about his pitiable situations. He'd done the same thing when Taze had lost his big race.

"I lost one of the most important races of my life once, too," he'd said, his voice tenderly pacifying. "But you know what? I didn't give up. You win some, you lose some."

"That's crap," Taze had said, lividly brushing past Palmer.

His dad was a winner. If he lost, it was graciously. By an inch. He had never been shamefully defeated.

"You probably just need to relax," Palmer said now, nodding into the camera. Taze looked away from his eyes, forgetting once more that his father couldn't actually see him.

He nodded slowly. "I guess…but I've tried that."

"Believe in yourself. And also believe in your Pokemon. And believe that people are believing in you, as well. I know I am. Your mother is. Your friends are."

Taze wanted to brush all of this off, but he knew it was true, for the most part. His whole life, his family and friends had been there to support him through…everything. Cross country, school, and now Pokemon training. Even if there were people who couldn't give a rat's ass about him – like Dawn – there would always be more who were on his side.

"I…I think there's something more, though." Taze lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning forward and holding his forehead in his palms. The Pokedex lay flat on his thigh. "There's something wrong with me."

He heard minor noises from the speaker – Palmer was moving in the background. "What do you mean, something's wrong? Are you just being hard on yourself again? You should really stop doing that, it gets you nowhere." Palmer's voice was fervent. Taze had the urge to yell at him to shut up and just listen, but he said nothing.

There was an elongated, uncanny silence before his father spoke again, this time more keenly.

"Son? Are you there? Answer me, dammit!"

Taze's heart was caught in his throat. He knew he had to get the truth out; it was almost as if it were a virus in his stomach that would eventually kill him if he didn't scavenge it from his body. But words refused to come. They fastened themselves to the edges of his throat, like mucus he couldn't cough up.

"… I…I've… I've been having nightmares." He spat the last few words out quickly as he dug his soiled fingernails into his scalp, pulling at his hair. He didn't have the strength to look his father in the eye anymore. He would have never imagined that telling this to the man who helped raised him would be so difficult.

But the truth needed to come out.

With difficulty, he brought himself to speak. "It… started at the beginning of our journey. It was, like, the first day. Everything was fine, but then there was some kid who was like, possessed by an evil spirit. We…we confronted him, or at least Dawn and Lucas did. I was off somewhere at the time – I don't really remember now, but I ran into this…spirit. Ghost. Phantom. Whatever you want to call it. He – or it – it gave me some sort of warning. Afterwards, I started having nightmares. They weren't that bad at first, but as time passed on, they kept getting worse and worse. I'm still having them. They're really bad now. I can't... I can't even sleep anymore."

"Wait. You're telling me…" Palmer trailed off, his voice tentative. "Darkrai…?"

"…Y-yes. I'm pretty sure. No, I'm positive." Taze voice was hoarse. He was starting to feel teary. He clutched tighter onto his blond waves, and inside he was reaching for the courage to pull through. "It… it's almost as if it's… inside me."

The park was noiseless. A playful scream faintly echoed through the air while Taze waited for some sort of answer.

"I…" Apparently, Palmer was at a loss of words. "There's… a way to remedy the nightmares. I don't know of much else. I – I'll try to find out something for you. I'll talk to Cynthia Hirano. She'll know something. But… Taze… I can't—I don't know what to tell you—"

"It's fine." Taze lifted his head up and propped it in his palms. Somehow, he wasn't satisfied with what his father's response. "I know. Whatever. Just… I needed to get it out, I guess."

"I'm glad you did, son." Taze could sense his father smiling; his words were imbued with optimism. "If you ever need to tell me anything, I'm always here."

Taze was baffled. Was this it? Was this all that would come out of this conversation? Telling from his father's lack of astonishment, it was as if evil spirits haunted kids all the time. Sure, Taze wasn't telling him the full story, about how Darkrai had come to him in the Old Chateau – he couldn't do that, not now at least – but he yearned for just a little more reassurance. Love.

"So, you'll talk to The Champion. And find out if anything's seriously wrong, right?"

"Of course. Don't get too worried. There's been about ten cases of this nightmare thing around Sinnoh in the past couple months. There's even one boy in Canalave who won't wake up… but anyway." Palmer laughed nervously. "You'll be fine. You're strong. You have a good heart."

Taze was rolling his eyes. "Yeah… thanks."

"And I'm going to be late for my meeting if I don't wrap this up right about now, so I'll leave you with this. Just remember, let all the potential in. Relax. Let all the stress and worry leak out. You have so much potential. It's in your blood."

Taze finally picked up the Pokedex and looked at his father's grinning face. He was scratching at his chin scruff.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. The Kidane Legacy." Taze rolled his eyes even harder. He'd grown up listening to his dad giving him this spiel. Palmer was a successful trainer, Tycoon of the Battle Tower, and Palmer's father had been the Sinnoh Champion. Plus, they all shared the same middle name: Damion. "I'm 'special,' I know."

"Exactly. So just let all of the potential come to you, son. Great things never came to those who didn't believe in themselves."

Taze nodded. "Right. Okay. You better go, then. Wouldn't want you missing your… meeting."

"All right. Good luck. I know you'll do well. Remember: just let it all in."

"Yeah. See ya."

"Bye, son."

Palmer hung up, and the video screen faded. Taze closed his PokeDex, clipped it back onto his belt and stood up, taking one last look at the statue before jogging down the cobbled roads of Eterna toward the Gym.

He closed his eyes for a few moments as he ran, letting his feet guide him. He unwound himself. He was vulnerable, now.

And he let everything in.