I'm back. Some more interesting stuff in this chapter, including some lore. Please Review.

Arron didn't remember where he was.

Was tired, he knew that much. He felt heavy, as if he was being weighed down by an unseen force. Even worse, he was cold, frigid to the bone except for a warmth that was blossoming in his chest. The warmth felt good, but in a bad way: the warmth was wet and unnatural, like hot glue had been poured over his abdomen and left to spread.

He opened his eyes and was immediately assailed by the harsh, bright light above him. He groaned and sat up, massaging his temples with his hand in a futile attempt to dispel the pounding headache that had rooted itself behind his eyes.

Then he realized he had hands.

He scanned the area he was in, finding it to be completely devoid of… anything. It was black, and cold, like the deep ocean. He half expected something to jump out at him, but it never happened. He was just there.

So he willed that to change. This had to be an illusion of some sort, or maybe a vision. Either way, he was trapped here until he woke up or the process was completed. As he focused, he felt a force congregate below him, and pressure built up until he felt the breaking point. Then the glass below him shattered, and he fell into the water below.

The water was warmer than he thought, almost comfortable in a way. He didn't have trouble breathing at all, so he just let himself sink further into the darkness.

Then he felt the pulse.

First he thought he was being watched, but soon he realized It was his own heart beating, something he'd never expected. Did he even have a heart? Hadn't he lost it?

He looked down at his chest to see a massive wound, a sword sticking out of it. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed it before, but it was stuck in there deep, puncturing something red and pulsating; his heart. It was withered and shrunken, as if it had been kicked around for a lifetime, but still there and still beating.

"When you came here I expected you to be different."

Arron stiffened and spun in the water, attempting to locate the voice that had spoken to him. The black around him seemed to camouflage the intruder, causing Arron to growl in anger.

"This, this is what I mean. You're so quick to anger, so reckless and obtuse. You resort to violence at every opportunity, as if it's second nature to you." The voice was effeminate, and youthful. Arron didn't recognize it, but it sounded like the voice of a young woman in her prime. Despite that, the way she spoke and her tone hinted at her being far older and much wiser than her voice alone let on. "What happened to you? Where did we go wrong?"

With every word, the sword plunged deeper and deeper, as if her critique of his character was the source of his pain. But Arron knew it went deeper than that. He'd never heard that voice before, or at least not long enough for it to mean something to him.

"You possessed what many of us did not; motivation. You always had a reason to push forward, to light the path on which we walked. Now you only seem to have darkened it."

It was only then that Arron felt as if he was suffocating in the water. "Who are you?" He croaked, clueless as to what her motivations were.

"You may call me Scarlett," she replied with almost dead monotony, as if he was speaking to Ulquiorra. As fast as he awoke, the realm in which he was trapped in ceased to exist, the watery substance dissipated like boiling water. He was left in a world in contrast with the previous, a green meadow with a myriad of flowers. A dark orange sunset basking the world in the last of the day's light. A young woman stood on the same hilltop he was now seated on, her hair flowing in the wind, a thousand different shades melding together into the colors of autumn. Her dress was simple, an earthy green. On her head was a laurel of twisted vines dried into hard bands of wood that were shaped into the shape of a minimalistic crown. Her face was angular and stern, her eyes a fiery orange, and her lips were thin. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but in a dangerous and regal way. "As for why I chose to speak to you, I don't quite know the purpose for that myself. It was quite spontaneous, I assure you."

Arron hadn't failed to notice that his humanoid form had returned, yet there was something off putting about how it had changed. His once bone white robes now tattered and soaked, his Zanpakuto broken in it's hilt and his body covered in lacerations and bruises, the largest of them being the gaping hole in his chest where the sword was once plunged into.

"I doubt that." He said condescendingly, "Why talk to me anyway? What, did you have some epiphany? Who are you, anyway? You didn't answer that question. As a matter of fact, where are we, and what the hell is going on?"

The woman, Scarlett, scoffed as if she was dealing with a petulant child. "We are in your inner world. I've hijacked it temporarily so I could communicate with you, as well as to keep your spirit at bay."

"You can sense my Zanpakuto spirit then," he said, more as a statement than a question. "That means you have to know what's going on. Are you the one who brought me to this damn world?"

"In a sense, but the specifics are far more complicated. Let's just say I had a hand in it and call it a day, we have far more important things to discuss."

Arron snarled. "No, I'm not just going to let you walk away from this. Why the hell did you bring me here? Why couldn't you just let me die with dignity."

Scarlett regarded him with disgust. "There was nothing honorable about your death: you achieved nothing, and you hadn't avenged a single soul. Aizen's fate is still unknown to me, but I can assure you, your intervention solved nothing. You have no dignity, not here, and you never had any there either."

He balled his fists in rage, feeling his blood boiling at her words, but she interrupted before he could respond. "You becoming angry doesn't solve anything, either. Like I said, we have important things to discuss, and we don't have much time to discuss them. If you wish to make some amends and actually protect that child you cling to so voraciously, then you'll listen to what I have to say."

"I don't cling to him," he snapped at her, but she rolled her eyes.

"You are either in denial or a fool. His presence is one of the only things keeping you grounded. Like it or not, it's in your nature to care for others, even if you believe you have nobody to care for."

Arron didn't respond, attempting to counteract her refutation with no luck. He couldn't say she was wrong, but he didn't want to admit she was correct either, so he simply remained silent.

"Please, by all means, remain stubborn. Your silence is preferable to whatever drivel you'll try to exclaim next." She sighed and reached down to the ground, roots growing and molding into her outstretched hand before twisting into an ornate handle. Eventually, the roots hardened into a comb with thin needles, and she raised it up to her vibrant hair, brushing and cleaning it subconsciously. "First of all, your Zanpakuto spirit is dying. I assumed you already knew this, but I'll state it anyway. Without a Zanpakuto spirit, you'll never be able to return to your original form. Luckily, I've prepared a solution for just this occasion. The boy you follow will be in possession of it, although he will be largely ignorant of it's true purpose."

"Something to store my Zanpakuto spirit in, I assume?"

She nodded. "Yes, within a certain sword hilt. It will be easily recognizable when you see it. The biggest challenge will be convincing the boy to let you near it, as it is seen as an antique."

"I have to know, why is my Zanpakuto spirit dying?" Arron asked. "Can't it simply reside within me?"

"Usually, it could reside within you, but that requires a special process of which not even I know the mechanics behind. Very few people have ever achieved a true union with their Zanpakuto Spirit, so to do so by accident is unthinkable. And while it is true that your spirit is within you, it isn't one with you. It is attempting to feed off of your soul energy to survive in a hostile environment, and since your body is in such an alien state, that energy is simultaneously nigh useless to it, ergo your body is both incompatible with it and yet is it's only refuge."

"And you want me to use this sword as a kind of container?"

"Not just a container, but almost as a kind of platform for which it can grow out of, like an asauchi. Only then can you preserve your Zanpakuto spirit indefinitely. Beyond that, it would then be able to feed from the latent energy in the world around it."

"And then what?"

"Patience, lots of patience. Pieces are in motion and plans have been drafted, and not all of them are in your favor. For now, just remain with the boy; he is your best hope of remaining relatively untouchable."

Arron was silent for a moment. "Why are you helping me? You act like you know me."

Scarlett gave him a thin and almost cruel smile, as if she was toying with him. "A lady never tells."

"That's not helpful."

"I told you everything you need to know to help you. But we can't keep talking; we are being watched."

Just as she stated that they were being observed, the inner world began to shimmer and destabilize. Scarlett scowled, as if whoever was interfering was simply a nuisance rather than a threat. With a hiss, she grimaced and tapped on disturbance, causing it to recoil. "If I wasn't so weakened I would've quashed that insect a long time ago." With each tap, a small spout of flame erupted, surrounding the disturbance and forcing it to retreat. "You need to go. When you wake up, wait a few days. Then go into the crimson forest, you'll find me in it's heart."

The disturbance was discouraged at first, but quickly began to expand again. Scarlett engulfed it in flames once again before turning back to Arron. "Look for the sanguine star, within the castle beyond the looking glass! You'll understand what that means when you get there."

"What?"

"Just do it!" She practically hissed at him. "I cannot risk her invading the dream, or she'll be able to expose my location, and I cannot allow that. Find the looking glass in the woods, it's your only chance!"

And just like that, the bubble shattered. Scarlett snapped her fingers, causing the dream to fade out, and he plunged back into his own personal world, plunging into the ice cold water to the sound of his Zanpakuto spirit wailing in anger and frustration over her infiltration of Arron's mind, Muerte Congelada's long tentacles flailing in the water.

Arron let the currents of the water carry him. That Scarlett woman, she had to have been real. What he saw was far too real for it to have been a dream. He could smell the flowers and feel the crisp wind on his skin, and the grass on his legs. And she knew who he was, more or less, and she knew that he had a zanpakuto spirit, which had a whole bevy of implications. She had at least a basic understanding of the afterlife, and how zanpakutos work, meaning she most likely knew he was a hollow, considering the hole in his chest was uncovered.

And then there was his heart. The throbbed feeling he had when the sword was plunged into it felt just as real, just like it had when he fought Aizen and had been impaled. This time, however, he felt something besides rage and agony; regret.

He regretted his actions when he fought Aizen. He was so busy attempting to vivisection the bastard that he hadn't even co sidereal the strength difference, and the reason why he and gin had multiple contingencies in place just in case one of them died. He could have spoiled everything out of rage and spite, and now Gin would have to deal with the monster all on his own.

In reality, there was no way Arron could win against Aizen fairly, even if he had utilized his true resurreccion. The only chance he would have had was if he used Muertos Congelada's ability to adhere to the spirit of another and track them. Then he could have predicted Aizen's every move and responded in kind. But only if he had used both his resurreccion and said ability at once would he have had a chance.

He felt the water dissipate as he closed his eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

Arron opened his eyes to the blinding light of a hospital room. He groaned before shutting them again and wishing he could just go back to sleep, but no such luck; the light and the sound of the heart monitor were irritating enough to keep him awake.

So he laid there, attempting to collect himself before someone walked in unexpectedly. He honestly didn't remember how he got here, all he remembered was the battle against the three pokemon he had been up against, and the injuries…

That would explain it. He remembered feeling a sharp pain in his chest during the battle, along with all the other painful wounds he had collected. But he recognized the pain in his chest all too well from several other battles he had fought in the past: he had punctured a lung with his own rib, one of them being jammed inward by a particularly devastating hit. He had been coughing up blood for the remainder of the battle but he was able to end it before he suffocated.

He felt his chest, the injury long gone thanks to his unnatural ability to heal, but that hadn't stopped the nurses from attaching a mask on his face that pumped oxygen into his good lung. It felt refreshing, but odd that he was only receiving air through one, so he pulled it out, slowly to prevent any issues, and took a deep breath, the sterile air of the hospital hurting his nostrils. A weak buzzing sound, like a prison klaxon, assaulted his ears, causing him to flinch before he sat up and flexed his arms, feeling his shoulder creak when he moved it. There were downsides to instant regeneration, and instant regeneration often left a few phantom pains and weak joints, but it was far better than dying.

The door at the edge of the room creaked open, and he spun to see who was intruding. A young nurse with pink hair quietly stepped in, obviously cautious of a rowdy or even violent patient. She wore a stereotypical cartoon nurse gown instead of scrubs and her hair was done into two loops behind her head. She eyed Arron and gulped, but came closer before panicking at the sight of the tubes having been removed from his windpipe.

"Oh, you need to keep those inn" She said, flustered. "Just let me come closer and we can fix that."

He noticed that she reached into her apron and produced a small syringe. Then she approached nervously, obviously worried he'd maul her. He didn't feel like being forcefully sedated, so he growled at her, causing her to back away and press herself against the wall in fear. "Just stay back, or I'll call security."

He practically chuckled at the empty threat. He'd like to see security try to contain and constrain him. He could just imagine the mulched remains of the guards scattered across the floor, one hanging from the ceiling with his intestines around his neck by a noose. It never ceased to astound him how ignorant these humans were, believing they were his betters.

Sadly, he couldn't turn the security force of the hospital into corpses. If it was just him, he could slaughter them all and suffer the consequences, but if he went berserk here, Goh would also likely suffer the consequences and he couldn't allow that.

So he got up and approached her, using his now intimidating height to keep her frozen in fear. She backed into the corner, trembling in terror as he padded his way towards he, growling softly the entire time. Eventually, he came face to face with her, and she looked away, closing her eyes. He growled against her neck, louder this time. His guttural voice caused her to jump in fear before lifting his arm up to her level. She was shaking, tears streaming from her eyes and praying to whatever deity she believed in. Good, he may not be able to kill her, but he'd make sure she'd reconsider her choices the next time she decided she had any control over him.

He gently pressed his claws into her hand and pulled the syringe out, before firmly grasping her chin and cheeks with his other hand, forcing her to watch as he crushed the syringe in his massive paw with a toothy snarl, sprinkling the shards of glass on the ground slowly and methodically. She was absolutely mortified at the level of intelligence he displayed, and his grin only widened at her horror. He decided he'd push it a little further, and so he moved closer, sniffing the side of her face before licking his long tongue up her neck and across her ear like a sociopath, causing her to flinch and recoil in disgust and terror. Her whimpering was like music to his ears, and her terror was surprisingly amusing and therapeutic. Sadly, his fun would have to end eventually and there wasn't much more that he could do that wouldn't push the envelope too far, even if he felt like being a little sadistic.

He moved away, turning his back to her and approaching the bed once again, sitting on it and staring at her. She refused to move for a moment, as if moving would cause him to maul her like a shank of meat. He gestured to the door, and eventually she made her escape, scrambling through the door and locking it behind her, as if it was much of a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

That was something he'd never had done before; Harribel would've found it vile and antagonistic, which it was. But while he wouldn't have heeded such criticism from anyone else, his sister was important to him, and thus he curbed his more violent and unpleasant tendencies. He often wondered why and how he developed those in the first place; he sure as hell hadn't had them when he was alive. Most likely his transformation into a hollow added or even intensified bad traits that he hadn't had or hadn't suffered from when he was alive. He was always rebellious and hated authority, and he was far from a pacifist, but he had never contemplated committing acts of unspeakable violence before.

He didn't know what was worse, the fact that he had considered doing terrible things, or that he didn't really care. He didn't actively go out of his way to harm innocent people, just those who he felt had he had been slighted by. It's just that his definition of 'innocent' had broadened since he became a hollow. Now he just felt slighted by everyone and everything.

He sat there for a bit longer, admiring the sunset outside front the comfort of the oversized hospital bed until several more individuals entered the room from behind. Arron didn't need to turn around to know that they were the security of the hospital, he could tell by the sound of their gear jingling and the thumping of their combat boots on the floor. He turned to see two armed guards, far more armed than Arron anticipated them to be. One was resting a small submachine gun of an unknown model in his arms, and the other had a pistol at his side. Both were tense but surprisingly reserved. An Arcanine was between them, growling at Arron but not approaching, most likely being kept at heel.

"Ma'am, please prepare the syringe, we'll make sure you aren't harmed in the process." The one with the pistol pulled a small square object from a slot in his vest, probably some kind of taser or stun gun. Arron merely grinned at the idea of some human attempting to electrocute him, causing the guards to step back in caution before gesturing to the Nurse. "Ma'am, disregard that last order and leave, we'll sedate him ourselves."

The nurse held her hand and partially covered her hand in fear and concern. "A-are you sure? He's dangerous!"

The guard nodded, clearly disturbed by Arron but trying his best not to show it. "Just inform the doctor of the situation so this can be prevented in the future."

The nurse nodded and scurried out the room, calling for the doctor. The guards then redirected their attention towards Arron, who simply continued to unnerve them with his wicked grin and razor-sharp canines. The guards backed away, the second guard preparing the stun device frantically before aiming it at Arron and firing.

Arron dodged to the side, the dart within barely grazing his side. It didn't, however, inject any sedatives into his system. Arron rushed forward before slamming the second guard's head into the wall, not hard enough to kill him, just hard enough to give him a nasty concussion. The first guard aimed his submachine gun at Arron and proceeded to unload the clip into his chest, the bullets merely bouncing off of his flesh like they were airsoft beads. The guard backed away, attempting to reload the gun with a fresh clip until Arron swiped both out of his hands, the gun bouncing on the floor with a clack and the clip spilling everywhere, bullets bouncing and rolling like tubular marbles.

The guard fell back onto his ass like an idiot, pulling out his sidearm and shooting, attempting to take out one of Arron's eyes. Arron simply raised his arm and blocked it, the bullet shattering on impact with his bony exoskeleton. Arron cudgelled the man across the head with his arm, knocking him out. The Arcanine that they had entered with was nowhere to be seen, but Arron felt a burst of fire graze his back, causing him to turn around and step on the pokemon with his foot, putting as much weight as possible on the dog pokemon without killing him. The dog pokemon whined in pain before Arron released his weight and left the pitiful thing there to suffer.

With a sigh, Arron backed away and sat on the bed again, his weight causing the steel frame to creak. He hated when anyone attempted to impose their will on him; he was his own man, and he wouldn't be commanded by anyone ever, not even by Goh.

The door creaked open, and more security flooded the room, several armed men and women aiming what looked like submachine guns at him. He simply snorted and flexed his muscles, practically daring them to do something stupid. The guards backed away whenever he moved a muscle, but they didn't fire, noticing that that was what got their comrades incapacitated in the first place. Arron stood up, towering over them before they aimed their weapons in terror.

Before any more violence could break out, somebody pushed through the crowd of guards and stood between them and Arron. He was a middle aged man, with messy black hair overlapping in locks, scruffy sideburns and a thick stubble on his chin. He was wearing a blue dress shirt with a popped collar underneath his white lab coat. His skinny black pants were held up around his waist by a gold belt with a ring buckle, and both of his hands were in his pockets. In contrast with the guards, he was nonchalant and easygoing, and didn't seem too concerned with the two incapacitated guards.

He gestured to the rest of the security force calmly. "Retrieve any Injured staff and see that they're treated. I'll deal with this."

The guards seemed mortified by the idea of leaving their boss alone with a ten foot tall muscle-bound killing machine, which was understandable. "But Professor Sycamore, you could be hurt!"

"I'll be fine, I can defend myself."

The guards looked at each other in disbelief before backing away, unsure of their boss's sanity. Several began dragging their incapacitated comrades out of the room, while one more returned the Arcanine to it's pokeball. The doctor, apparently named Professor Sycamore, gave Arron a pleasant but obviously strained smile. "Now, you've caused quite a ruckus, and I can't have you terrorizing my staff. But I have a feeling violence isn't going to subdue you, so maybe we can work something out."

Arron laughed, his raspy throat causing his already deep voice to sound demonic in nature, like glass scraping against concrete. This human was a funny one, believing he had power here. Professor Sycamore was seemingly unfazed. "I see you're mocking me. Now, I'm sure my employees here are much more ignorant about the behavior of Pokemon than I am, but I majored in Pokemon Psychology, and I am in fact a Behaviorist, so I know that you are far more intelligent than people are comfortable admitting to themselves." Professor Sycamore said, sitting down in a chair next to the massive bed. "So, why did you do it? Why did you terrorize the poor head nurse? You didn't attack her, although you had the means and the motive; that means you aren't blatantly prone to violence."

Arron snorted again, causing the professor to gesture to his actions. "This is what I mean, you clearly understand what I'm saying, yet you don't seem to understand the severity of the situation. The people of Shalour already don't like you; they think you're some kind of demon or spirit given form to wreak vengeance. The people here are still superstitious even after all this time."

Arron raised an eyebrow at that. The people here thought he was some malignant spirit? That was hilariously ironic considering his original form. Hollows were essentially malignant spirits if you simplified them enough, and Arron was definitely malicious.

Professor Sycamore seemed interested in Arron's reaction, but didn't address it. "So, when you decide to terrorize my head nurse, one of the nicest women in the city, for apparently no reason, I take that as an offense. So, I'd prefer if you'd stop terrorizing the kind staff who are here to simply ensure you're safe and healthy recovery."

The professor stood up and sighed before making his way to the door. "Oh, and as for the guards, that was most likely inevitable. They are quite jumpy, considering the patients we tend to receive. That being said, I'd appreciate it if you attempted to remain civil. I already have enough paperwork on my hands making sure they get their benefits."

Arron didn't respond, but neither did the professor, who left and locked the door behind him. Arron sat and fumed at the professor, who had spoken to him as if he was some irascible child. And why the hell did every damn medical professor in this world look like Aizen in some way? First Cerise had the glasses and hair color, as well as the shape of his head and face, and Professor Sycamore had the hair and stature, as well as the confidence and composed personality of Aizen. They all infuriated him to no end, and yet he knew they weren't him.

So he remained there, watching the sunset as he tried to clear his head of all the vicious thoughts that were plaguing him.

Goh still wasn't used to his lack of dreams. He was hoping he'd dream of the cold cavern again, where Arron and Neliel resided. He didn't know why when the place horrified him, but he felt far closer to Arron in his dreams, as well as his mysterious friend, Neliel. They seemed very different; Neliel was kind and warm, yet reserved and even somewhat defeated, while Arron was serious and cold, yet he still showed he cared in one way or another. They felt real, human even, unlike the rowdy and violent pokemon hebhad on his hands now.

He had long since accepted the fact that the Arron in his dreams were one in the same with the Arron in the real world. The similarities were too obvious, and yet he couldn't comprehend what his dreams meant.

Goh had decided not to think about it; it couldn't be a dream, but the implications seemed impossible. Arron being an undead spirit, from a world of violence and death? Sure, Arron wasn't a saint but the idea of him consuming the souls of others to survive and evolve seemed too vile to be real. So he'd sit on it for now, just long enough for him to figure the rest of his life out.

He had been awake since early in the morning, sketching in his notebook. He had finished the pictures of both Neliel and Arron, filling the lines with a bag of colored pencils to make them more real. Neliel's green hair was flowing down her shoulders as she peered behind her back at the viewer, and her tattered skirt and shirt were a dull grey, just as they were in Hueco Mundo. Arron's skin was tan and his muscles were lean, his ragged white pants providing a cover for his lower body. His blonde-orange hair was long and unkempt, flowing down to his neck and shoulders, and his bangs partially covered his eyes. He was obviously dangerous and violent, yet majestic in an unexplainable way.

Then there were his sketches of Mew. He had at least five of them at different angles, each showcasing different physical features; the oversized head, the large rabbit-like feet, the large, round eyes and the long tail. Mew's signature pink fur was slightly ruffled but otherwise quite homogenized, giving it the appearance of skin. Goh didn't know how he remembered so much, but he didn't care; his passion to capture and study mew was as vigorous as ever.

That was one thing that Goh hadn't given up on. While his goal to capture every pokemon seemed foolish and irresponsible in hindsight and his desire to keep battling with Arron stocked the worst of his insecurities on a good day, capturing Mew continued to seem like a worthwhile venture, primarily because nobody had done it before. Goh wanted to do something unheard of, and it wasn't everyday that someone captured and studied a legendary.

There was also the fact that there was something beautiful about Mew; Mew was joyful and carefree, like a fairy, and something about that unadulterated purity warmed his heart. Goh didn't want to hurt Mew, he simply wanted to know more about it.

Besides, it was the type of goal that people dedicated their entire lives to. Capturing Mew was most likely impossible, so it was a satisfying endeavor for Goh: he didn't know exactly what he'd do next. He didn't want to think about that, the lack of a goal. It made his work feel pointless, worthless even, so he dedicated his time to things that would take time to complete, or even impossible things, just so he could feel useful in some way. His father used that to manipulate Goh into following the path he had wanted for him, and he hadn't had much confidence outside of his studies, making him a bit lonely and sometimes even a target for bullying and maltreatment. People had used his diffidence against him all his life; Goh realized that a while back after he finally stood up to his parents.

Maybe he'd find some meaning and even a bit of backbone along the way, but for now all he had were his friends and a mission.

Goh sighed and laid back in the bed, looking out the window and into the dark red sunset. The final sixteen was tomorrow, and Goh had finally reached the point of no return. Tomorrow, he was going to be battling May. He heard a lot about her from Ash, about how her Blaziken could Mega-Evolve, and how it beat Dragonite into a pulp. He didn't know how to feel about battling her, but he guessed he'd be better off not feeling any kind of way about it. If what Ash told him was true, then May would be even tougher than Kane, so he would have to enter the Arena and hope for the best.

His Rotom Phone rattled in his pocket, and he fished it out, seeing an unknown ID pop up. He answered and the face of a middle-aged man with curly black hair and a rough stubble popped up on the other end. He had a warm smile and soft brown eyes.

"Hello, is this Goh?"

He sat up quickly and nodded. "I'm, yes sir. Who are you?"

The older man cleared his throat. "My name is Professor Sycamore, I'm the Owner of the pokemon center here in Shalour. I'm here to call you about the status of your pokemon Arron."

"Oh, is he fine? Is everything okay? I was told his condition was critical."

Professor Sycamore chuckled. "No, He's fine, he's almost fully healed despite the severity of his condition earlier which was quite astounding. This is actually about an incident that occurred a few hours ago."

Goh's heart sank. "Is everything okay? How bad is the damage?"

Professor Sycamore continued to chuckle, apparently finding Goh's responses humorous. "There are no 'damages' per say, just a few injured personnel."

Goh's blood froze and he began to panic. "Oh, no no no no! Is anyone hurt badly, or worse?"

"You have this odd habit of assuming the worst of Arron, don't you?" Professor Sycamore stated, surprisingly calm for someone with several injured staff members. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. And don't worry about my staff, the worst injuries were a few concussions and a sprained wrist. He was remarkably lenient on the guards that attempted to restrain him."

Goh let out a little sigh of relief, but was still incredibly scared. Arron had caused a lot of collateral damage before, but this was starting to become concerning. He might have been lenient this time, but what about the next or thereafter? Goh doubted Arron could bottle up his violent tendencies without some serious training.

"Don't get too stressed about it, just meet me when you can, tonight would be preferable but I understand if you have plans."

Goh stuttered. "Oh, um, I'll be there as soon as possible."

Professor Sycamore nodded. "And really, don't worry; nobody is hurt badly."

Goh sighed and nodded back. "If you say so, I'll take your word for it."

"Good. I'll be waiting for you in the lobby."

He hung up, leaving Goh in dismay. This was exactly what he was worried about. Now he had to deal with a bigger and even more aggressive Arron who wouldn't take no for an answer, and it wasn't like Goh could control him.

He sighed and slid off the bed onto his feet before putting his pokeball belt back onto his waist and slipping on his vest. It was still warm outside, so he wouldn't have to worry about wearing anything heavier, which was nice as he wanted to at least have a peaceful walk. He slipped his sneakers on, grabbed his backpack and walked out the door and into the hall, the clock of the magnetic lock sealing it shut.

The night sky was brilliant, and Goh loved seeing it in all it's glory. It made him feel small in the grand scheme of things, but not in a bad way; he liked to think of himself as one small piece in an unimaginably vast and complex puzzle, each piece belonging somewhere. His mother had always told him that, and how each piece would find its place eventually, next to the other pieces it was destined to fit into. It had made him feel better as a young child when he had come home, bullied or just shunned for his introversion and timidity.

But as he walked down the sidewalk, he felt as if that puzzle would never be finished. He didn't know what he wanted or where he was going, so it was almost as if whoever was making that puzzle had lost his piece somewhere and now he'd never fit in. He was still shy and hesitant, and despite that he had thrust himself into a situation where the stress was overwhelming. He could handle work, that's what he thought this internship would be in the first place, but the traveling and the interactions had proven to be more stressful than he thought they'd be in the first place.

His only saving graces were Chloe and Ash, Who had helped him come out of his shell more than he thought he ever would. And he couldn't forget Professor Cerise and Dr. Chrysa, who practically saved his skin when they helped him stand up to his father. Ash's mother was also a huge help, but that was more of her warm and motherly instincts rather than anything specific. She was there, and that was enough for him.

He made his way down the street and just a block away from the hospital, admiring the beautiful street lights and the restaurants surrounding the medical district, both simple cafes or charcuterie shops as well as a handful of fine dining establishments. The smells of the food were wonderful, but he had a place to be, and he was determined to get there on time.

He made his way to the door of the hospital and entered, spotting Professor Sycamore almost immediately. He was leaning against the wall, chatting with Nurse Joy, who seemed a bit more nervous than usual. Professor Sycamore spotted him and waved with a bright smile, completely catching Goh off guard. Once Professor Sycamore stopped speaking to her, Nurse Joy looked down at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing in the room, refusing to make any eye contact with Goh for more than a second. It was a small gesture, but Nurse Joy's obvious dejection and avoidance of Goh's gaze compared to Sycamore's merriment painted a much darker tone on the backdrop of the room, and filled Goh with even more anxiety.

He approached and stuck out his hand, which Goh took and shook instinctively. Sycamore's grin mellowed just a little bit, as if he was taking a more professional approach. "I'll be with you momentarily, I need to help out my head nurse."

Goh nodded, his guts twisting in knots as Sycamore returned to speaking g to Nurse Joy with a surprisingly delicate and reassuring trust. It wasn't definite, but it seemed that Sycamore wasn't the reason that Nurse Joy seemed so distraught. He listened to their conversation over the mild chatter of the room.

"Nurse Joy, it's okay, just go home and take tomorrow off, I'll take care of your shift."

She wiped her eyes, tears streaming down her face. Despite being visibly upset, she refused to take his offer. "I couldn't, you working my job would be unbecoming of you."

Sycamore gave her a soft yet stern look. "What happened was terrible, and you have yet to so much as take a day off in a little over a year, go take some time for yourself."

She seemed hesitant at first, but finally caved. "If you insist sir, I'll take tomorrow off."

"Good, you need to relax, especially after what happened today."

She nodded. "Of course sir, I'll see you on Thursday."

She quickly walked back to the door and behind the reception desk, most likely to retrieve her belongings. Professor Sycamore rolled on the balls of his feet for a moment before reapproaching Goh. "I'm very sorry about the wait, today's just been a long day for her."

Goh gulped. "I can see that. You wouldn't happen to know why? I have a feeling it might be relevant to our conversation." As a matter of fact, he was almost certain that Arron had played a part in her distress, but he kept his mouth shut in the hopes of being proven wrong.

Sycamore's apologetic look quashed those looks almost immediately. "Oh, it could be relevant, although what happened isn't exactly child friendly."

Goh buried his head in his hands. "It's that bad?"

Sycamore nodded. "I'm not going to lie to you, what happened to her was horrific, and Arron is absolutely the culprit, but it isn't permanent. She was just… a bit tormented."

That didn't help at all.

"Don't worry, none of this is your fault, and I'm not here to punish you or to condemn you for anything. I just want to have a conversation."

Goh was a bit dejected himself now. "About what?"

Sycamore led him down a winding hall with rooms on both sides. Goh looked at the pokemon within each; many of them were large and quite capable. Through the window slit of one door, he spotted a mienshao getting a check up from a doctor and a nurse, it's arm being examined. Another had a familiar Hydreigon laying in a large bed, Alice sitting in a chair beside it and rubbing it's collar as it grumbled in content. Alice spotted him passing by and gave him a playful wink, and he waved nervously.

"Friend of yours?" Sycamore asked with a small smile.

"You could say that."

They were quiet for a moment before they reached an elevator, Sycamore pressing the button to the third floor before whistling awkwardly. Goh twiddle his thumbs nervously.

"So, I've been watching the tournament, and I've been informed by a few friends that you've had a hard time keeping Arron in line."

Goh snorted. "Understatement of the year. He didn't listen to me before he evolved, and now I'm worried he might get out of control."

Sycamore nodded. "That's an understandable fear. You just have to remember that Pokemon change when they evolve, and sometimes for the worst." He waved his hands gently as he spoke, putting a certain emphasis on some of his words. "A personality is a personality: there's nothing wrong with growing and maturing, but I've seen a lot of pokemon in my career whose negative traits have only grown and festered as they age, and it takes effort to undo and eventually overcome those traits."

"How do you know so much? I've only met you today, and we've only been here for a couple days."

Sycamore chuckled. "I'm going to be honest with you, Goh; the scientific community at large has been watching you and Arron very closely. Professor Cerise was able to keep the more predatory members away from the both of you with his pull within the community, but that doesn't change the fact that anyone worth their salt has at least noticed you two."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that." It was actually quite embarrassing that he hadn't thought of others taking notice of him and Arron, especially after that battle with Kane.

"Either way, I had an… interesting encounter with him earlier, and there are some concerning outliers."

"Like what?"

The elevator dinged and opened slowly before he responded. Sycamore led Goh out of the elevator and a few doors down the hall until they reached what seemed to be Goh's room. "Well, the biggest thing that I've noticed is that he's incredibly intelligent." Sycamore said. "His ability to understand the nuances of human speech and behavior is astounding. I've interacted with him three times already, and each time he's shown that he is remarkably perceptive."

"So he knows what we're saying?" Goh asked, a bit skeptical.

"Not quite. Very few pokemon can understand human speech fluently," explained Sycamore, "No, I believe he has a very firm grasp on human body language. He's used that to interpret what people are doing and when."

"Oh. So what does that mean?"

"Oh, it's just an observation. It isn't that important on it's own. However, with the other things I've noticed, his behavior becomes much clearer."

"In what way, what else does he do?"

Professor Sycamore ran his fingers through his hair before he approached a door, standing just behind the window slit. "Well, he also hates authority. He obviously doesn't like the idea of others having control over him. That mixed with his intelligence and perceptiveness means that he knows when people are attempting to dupe him."

"That I knew; Arron hates being commanded, but after a while he does give in and do what I ask."

Professor Sycamore scratched his beard. "That's most likely because he has a modicum of respect for you. That or because you're a constant in his life and angering you would be detrimental to him. Either way, he doesn't mind obeying you to a certain degree, which is good. The issue is that he hates the idea of others imposing their will on him."

That made sense, a lot of pokemon were territorial or even just aggressive due to instincts. "So how do we solve that?"

Professor Sycamore shrugged. "I've never encountered this kind of pokemon before, so I don't have any record of how to handle them. Everything I've tried so far has been uncharted territory, so I've simply resorted to treating him as an equal. He seems tolerant of my presence as long as I don't possess anything that could subdue him, like a syringe or a pokeball. My staff however are quite terrified of him due to how he… dealt with my head nurse."

Goh hung his head. "You said he did something terrible. What was it?"

At the mention of what Arron had done, Professor Sycamore grew visibly uncomfortable. "I don't think it's appropriate for children. Either way, what's done is done, and don't feel responsible for what Arron did; He knew what he did was wrong, I could tell."

Goh nodded. "So, what now?"

Professor Sycamore gestured to the door. "I think you should spend some time with him, maybe even talk to him a bit. I doubt my presence will be of much help, given how cold he is towards me, and I have other duties to attend to. I just wanted to let you know about a few observations, and to inform you that what he did wasn't your fault."

Goh nodded, appreciative of the professor's support. "Thank you, I'll find a way to keep him in line."

Professor Sycamore shook his head. "I don't think you can keep him in line; Arron is simply too large and too smart to be controlled. You have to find some kind of positive reinforcement to strengthen that bond, and he seems to respond to strength and confidence above all else. Just be sure of yourself and be strong, and I'm sure he'll come to respect you and even emulate some of your more positive behaviors."

Goh nodded. "I'll do that, I can't keep stressing about whether I might not be able to control him."

Professor Sycamore knelt down and looked Goh in the eyes. "Goh, it's not about control, it's about trust and faith. Arron does what he does because he believes he knows better than you, because he doesn't trust you or have faith in your abilities. The best trainers are those who are both competent and confident, because their actions both inspire their pokemon and lead them to victory." He said, giving Goh a small smile. "You are very competent for such a new trainer, but if you have no faith in yourself, why should Arron have any faith in you either?"

It made sense. Goh was anything but self-assured, so when compared to such a dangerous and assertive pokemon like Arron it was no wonder why he failed to grasp even the slightest whisper of control during battle. But goh was determined to change that, if he could. But how?

"I just freeze up whenever I battle with Arron, and he takes control of the situation. I don't know how to gain that confidence."

Professor Sycamore nodded knowingly. "Well, tell me about your team."

Goh was quiet. "Well, I have Arron and Raboot, and I also have a Scyther… and a Misdreavus… oh, and a Sandile!"

"An impressive team for someone who just started. But why don't you use anyone else?"

Goh became even quieter. "I… we haven't trained much. I've been relying in Raboot and Arron a lot."

Professor Sycamore snapped his fingers. "That's the problem; you rely on Arron and Raboot a little too much. The pokemon you have in your roster have a lot of potential, but if you keep using your two heaviest hitters as your trump cards your team, and you as a result, will become vulnerable. On top of that, Arron sees you as reliant on him, so why should he listen to you?"

Goh nodded. "I understand. I just need someone to train with."

Professor Sycamore shrugged. "I'm sure you'll find someone to train with. Maybe Ash will be willing to put in a few rounds."

"Yeah, I guess- wait, you know Ash?"

Professor Sycamore grinned. "Yeah, I met him when he came to Kalos to compete. I've been waiting for him to come back and visit a certain friend."

Goh sensed there was something more to that, but he didn't press the subject. "Thanks for your help, Professor, I'll start training."

"Good, now you should go have a chat with Arron, I have work to do, and it's getting late anyway. Arron's healthy, so feel free to take him home."

"Of course, Professor."

Professor Sycamore stood back up with a huff and turned to walk back to the elevator. He waved his hand casually. "Have a good night, Goh. I'll be watching tomorrow."

Goh swallowed the lump in his throat before opening the door to Arron's hospital room. He was sitting on the bed, the mattress compressed from the sheer weight of his body. His back was to goh as he stared out the window and into the dying sunset, the edge of the sun still peeking out from the west. Goh turned on the lights, but Arron wasn't surprised; he simply turned around to look at Goh, his eyes as apathetic as usual.

Goh practically grimaced at Arron's lack of.concern over the situation he had put both Goh and himself 8n, as if he had no remorse over traumatizing Professor Sycamore's head nurse. Goh had wanted to be calm, but he just couldn't; Arron had shown time and time again that being calm and understanding did nothing.

But what else could he do?

"You know, you could stop making everyone else's lives miserable for just one day; that'd be great." He said to Arron, condescendingly. His expression didn't change, he just turned back to the window and watched the sunset.

"I really need you to stop it with all of the aggression and antagonistic behavior, I know you know it's wrong, you're too smart to not understand that."

Arron remained quiet, and Goh just sighed, walking up to the bed and sitting down next to Arron, who's hulking form shifted away from him. Goh wrapped his arm around his body and leaned on him, listening to his massive heart thuno slowly. "Y'know, I remember when you were small, and you'd lay on my chest to listen to my heartbeat. You were always calm then, Why can't you be like that more often?"

Arron snorted, causing some of the papers on the side table to flutter onto the floor. Goh watched as a particularly thin piece of paper practically danced to the ground, trying to think of something else to say. But he had nothing, he was just tired.

"Let's go back to the hotel, we have a match tomorrow and I'm getting very tired."

Arron didn't make any sound of acknowledgement, but didn't resist when Goh returned him to his pokeball. Then he sighed and walked out the door and into the hall just as the Hospital was beginning to close for the night. By the time he left the lobby and entered the street, many of the cafés and restaurants had closed and the street lamps were on, illuminating the sidewalks with the dull orange glow of the custom bulbs. The warm summer air had given way to a much drier and cooler nighttime breeze. The many white-barked trees swayed in the wind, their orange, yellow and red leaves fluttering.

He made his way back to the hotel, watching a few cars pass by, and came across one of the many square gardens hosting a myriad of people from all over the city. Gazebos were hung with ornamental lights, as were the street lamps. A large fountain spewed water in the center, and statues of people and pokemon, especially Lucarios. Some of the statues were vague, the faces and bodies worn by sheer time. Some were cast from brass or bronze, and were set on marble or stone bases adorned with plaques. There wasn't anyone out in the park, at least as far as he could see, but he decided to enter anyway. Why not? It was a nice night out and he didn't have to be at the tournament until noon tomorrow, so he had time.

He walked past one of the Gazebos, admiring the flower beds surrounding it and the lights that adorned it. The air smelled vaguely of honeysuckle, Lilac and Lavender, and as he wandered around the Gazebo, he spotted a figure laying back on the roof, arms behind their head. It was vaguely human, but not quite, especially with the shape of their head and that odd scarf around its neck…

Goh squinted and got a better look at the individual reclining on the roof. It definitely wasn't human, and in the brightness of the lights it's smooth, almost moist skin was covered in a bright sheen. It's 'scarf' was actually it's long tongue wrapped around its neck. It's hands and feet were webbed, like those of a frog, and it was lithe and incredibly muscular, it's arms and legs rippling with strength. It was an impressive sight, especially for Goh's first time seeing one in person.

He was just surprised that a fully grown Greninja was relaxing on the roof of the gazebo.

The greninja obviously knew he was there, as it was casually watching him, but it didn't seem to care too much. Goh gawker for a moment before backing away and pulling out a pokeball. He tossed it at Greninja, who didn't bother to move or evade, and instead let it bounce off of it. The ball had no effect, and Greninja stood up, towering over Goh on top of the Gazebo.

Goh was flabbergasted on how a pokeball wouldn't even register Greninja, but it seemed that Greninja had some resistance.

"Or somebody caught you already." Goh thought out loud. Greninja was silent, sitting back down and crossing its legs. It watched Goh silently as he decided what to do next. Goh stepped back before steeling his nerves and balling his fists. "Who's your trainer?"

The Greninja gave him a funny look before shaking its head. Goh thought that was odd at first, but it made sense; what kind of trainer would just let their pokemon wander around at night alone? There were only a few people out, and it was starting t9o get late.

"Do you have a trainer?" Goh asked, determined to find out why this random Greninja was hanging around. It thought about it for a second before shaking its head.

"So, why are you out here? I thought wild pokemon didn't like towns?"

It shrugged before laying back down, eyes up watching the stars. Goh watched him for a second before clearing his throat. "Do you mind if I join you up there?"

The Greninja grunted, as if to say knock yourself out, and Goh climbed up the ladder within the Gazebo. There was a door on the roof, which he opened and crawled through, and came up on the red shingles roof, which he was adamant as to not mess them up. The Greninja gave him a lazy glance before looking back up at the sky. Goh watched him with fascination as Greninja flexed its anatomy and its musculature, and he found himself pulling out its Notepad to illustrate its graceful figure. He set his rotom phone to illuminate his notepad and he pulled a pen from a netted pocket on the side of his backpack before illustrating Greninja's head, starting with the shape of the skull and the contours of the fins.

Greninja obviously heard the scribbling, but if it noticed it obviously didn't care. It simply just sat there, watching the stars and the moon, as if it were fascinated with them, a trait Goh could appreciate. Either way, Goh had an excellent view of it's entire body, meaning he could illustrate it perfectly. Goh had an interest in the bodies of all sorts of creatures, both Human and Pokemon, and he found that putting the world onto paper was cathartic for him, as it allowed him to remember the good times through snapshots that were his drawings. It also helped him hone his fine motor skills; he wanted to find some field in Pokemon Biology one day, which was one of the main reasons Goh had taken Professor Cerise's internship, and he figured that one day he'd have to handle a scalpel, so he figured he should practice holding something less dangerous first.

It was also one of the reasons why he was so interested in catching every pokemon: he wanted to know everything he could about them.

Goh had to admit, the Greninja was an interesting specimen; it was a young, recently matured male (Goh knew how to tell), he had obviously seen extensive combat, shown by the many scars on his body as well as the signs of previously broken bones. That was a sign of it either being owned or once being owned, as most Greninja were solitary and territorial (at least that's what the textbooks he had read said.) It was also very fit, more fit than most Greninja. He must fight a lot, either in the wild or in the ring.

Goh spent at least another hour of the night watching and illustrating Greninja, who seemed perfectly at ease with Goh's presence. After that, he just laid there, watching the stars.

"You said you didn't have a trainer, but you look like you were trained before. Did you have a trainer sometime ago?"

Greninja was still for a moment before nodding, which interested Goh even more. He scooted closer and looked at Greninja's eyes, which seemed to be solemn and distant. Goh didn't push any further, but Greninja didn't seem to mind, sitting up and crossing his arms.

"Is everything okay?"

Greninja nodded. Goh wasn't convinced, but it wasn't his place to judge. Goh placed a hand on Greninja's shoulder, who was fine with the gesture. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, you barely know me. I just want to know if everything's okay."

Greninja nodded with a grunt, and Goh returned the gesture. "That's good, I just want to make sure you're okay."

Greninja stood up, his tongue-scarf blowing in the wind comically. Goh stood up, catching his balance, before carefully tearing out the picture he drew and handing it to Greninja. Greninja studied it for a moment, looking almost impressed, and goh scratched the back of his head. "I just wanted you to have that, as thanks for letting me, y'know, draw you." Goh said sheepishly. "God, that sounded so weird. Look, it's just a hobby of mine, I didn't mean it to be weird or-"

Before Goh could continue to babble, Greninja wrapped his arms around Goh and gave him a light hug, a gesture of gratitude so pure that Goh couldn't speak. Then Greninja let go and turned around, looking back to wave back at Goh casually before leaping off the rooftop gracefully and into the shade of the night. Goh sat there, staring into space as he attempted to process what just happened and how he just spent two hours of his life drawing a pokemon that felt more human than most people could even imagine. That Greninja… it felt important somehow, but Goh couldn't quite put his finger on it. It didn't matter too much, the memory of it still persisted in his head, so he could copy the drawing, and maybe he'd even see it again. If he was lucky, that is.

Either way, it was getting late, and he had to go home. So he crawled back through the panel in the roof and slid down the stairs before walking back to the hotel just a few blocks away.