Words: So, the last chapter was mostly focused on an arrangement of sorts being made between our two nameless main characters—emphasizing that the name given to our protagonist isn't necessarily his name, just a placeholder. We'll get more into the salad on the table and other matters of import shortly. Maybe we'll get a legitimate name. Maybe a phone number. Maybe I'm just being a bitter lonely college dude. Who knows?

Also, Since I'm new to this, I'd like to know of any users who can give me some advice on how to improve my posting methods and such. Do I keep doing what I'm doing, do I add an extra message, constant disclaimers, I don't know and I would very much like to. Please message me if you have any suggestions as to improvements to chapter uploads themselves, as well as the many comments and critiques of this story welcome in this epoch. If you'd rather use more…prominent modes of contact, you can reach me via coolioraman . I'm ready for the spam, and will sift through until I get that juicy advice…or just a hello would work as well.

Let's enjoy us some Pokemon stuff that I don't have any ownership or rights over, as the base idea is not mine, but rather GameFreak's, Nintendo's, and the Pokemon Company's, along with quite a few others.

That was my attempt at veiling a disclaimer. I wouldn't think that worked well.

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Our hearts were less guarded than before our handshake. Our names remained in flux. Our table wasn't knocked-over, and our seats remained opposite to each other. There was a calm in the room, a calm to veil the slight tension of being locked in a monochrome room for an indeterminant amount of time. There was an unseen force keeping us from debating if the other was a threat, but all of this cautionary closeness was overshadowed by a malicious mystery. A darkness made the monochrome room invisibly darker, our hearts getting forcefully filled with the weight of the atmosphere.

Can we eat this?

The Ralts sat on the table, opposite to myself and my stool. We could have started any number of conversations: asking about each other's origins, attempting to trick each other into revealing our names, or even try sparring. What stopped us was the salad that had been placed on the table while we were first fighting, the salad with lettuce and other greens dressing the cerulean-hued Oran berries, as if the blue were a shy younger sibling hiding behind their parent when faced with the two relatively-giant figures we posed.

"What can you eat?" I asked.

The berries. What are the green things? They look like a bush.

The Psychic-type glanced up from the culinary menace before us, head tilted slightly to the left in query. His voice—the one he put in my head, still childish and still coating itself in gravel—didn't betray any lack of knowledge.

"No, I know that. People call them Oran berries. I meant, what have you eaten before?"

Leaning closer to the plate, his eyes level with the fronds of the salad and the berries within, he picked up a larger chunk of the feta cheese that lay atop the former, tossing it in his mouth nonchalantly.

This stuff looks different, but it smells the same as something else. It tastes good.

Relishing the flavor, the Pokemon's eyes were closed in concentration, and only opened again after swallowing the feta. What's this called?

"Feta cheese," I responded. I usually did not go further on questions regarding simple things like a salad, but the Ralts seemed very new to the concept. "People can make different kinds of cheese. Some taste like feta, and some look, feel, and taste pretty different."

There's different kinds of cheese? Eyes looked up beyond his helmet-like hair, the beginnings of wonder taking hold. I wanna try them all!

"Maybe once we get out of here." I commented. I didn't think a Pokemon could get excited over cheese, or at least as excited as my Ralts had just become.

I held up a leaf of spinach from the salad. "Have you had any of the … bushes?"

He had just started eating a berry with a bit of feta on top, testing the flavors. I learned then that even telepathy had an etiquette when it comes to food, for the Pokemon didn't think in my head that time; instead, he shook his head. After gulping down his experiment with evident delight, he asked me, What's it taste like?

It's not often I'm asked to describe the taste of spinach.

"Hm… how's the berry taste?"

The Ralts merely shrugged his shoulders. How am I supposed to tell you how Oran berries taste?

"Let's think about it for a bit then."
Okay.

Resting my elbows on the table, my chin in my palm, I tried to find words to describe the taste of spinach. I really did, too. I could tell my starter was having a similar problem, sitting cross-legged with both hands holding his cheeks. He then looked up at me, feeling my gaze on him, and thought, No idea?

I shook my head. He looked at me confused, and I clarified, "No, I'm stuck too."

We stared at the plate for a few more empty minutes, trying and failing to generate some kind of lexicon to describe the taste of foods we took for granted. Then my starter exclaimed into my head, prompting me to hold my ears uselessly, I HAVE AN IDEA!

Giving myself time to hide my grimace—your ears and brain would be ringing if a psychic though-screamed in your head—I asked about his idea.

You eat an Oran berry, and I eat some spinash

"You mean spinach?"

Yep

And so, we found ourselves facing each other, a blue Pokemon berry in my hand, a leaf of spinach in his. With a nod to each other, we bit into each other's food.

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"Well, your observation is done. You can leave now."

The girl from before stood before me at the mouth of the door. Instead of her previous exercise outfit, she wore an Aether Foundation jacket with jeans. The only things that remained constant were her platinum-blonde hair and her headset. She held out a clipboard and pen yet again, asking for my least favorite name and signature.

"What about my Ralts?"

What about my Trainer?

The girl gestured to the pokeball laying in a corner of the room. "That's for you two."

My Ralts teleported outside the room, just next to the girl and ready to attack.

"Hey, we don't need to fight her." We were a team now, and didn't need to fight anyone for no reason. He looked at me a little angrily, as if mentioning a pokeball to him was like shooting him.

I don't wanna be in a ball.

The girl crouched down to be at eye level with the Ralts before using the kindest voice I'd heard from anyone. She told him, "You can ask your trainer not to put you in that. It's up to you guys now."

Dumbstruck, the Ralts nodded. I picked up the pokeball and pocketed it, hoping to never have to use it. My starter looked up at me, and I looked back down. He then teleported to sit on my shoulder. I looked at him and tried not to smile too much, and only barely succeeded.

"Let's get out of here."

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Almost at the edge of Route 101, we decided to set up camp and rest. Well, I decided we needed to rest. My Ralts wanted to spar again. We'd already sparred a little too much, whenever we weren't fighting trainers or wild Pokemon. Even though he didn't hit too hard, his constant pummeling was starting to give me a bruise.

I unrolled my sleeping bag beneath a tree, the Ralts already laying down beside it. I guess the sparring had tired him out more than he let on before. Or maybe teleporting so much put a mental strain on him…I wouldn't know.

My name is Dayne.

I looked down to the psychic, who had adamantly refused to answer the same question earlier that day…or was it the previous day. He was curled next to the sleeping bag, head resting on the sown-in pillow. I couldn't help the happy surprise in my eyes, and was quite glad he was trying to sleep.

"My name—"

I was very rudely interrupted by a pained mewl, with heralded the scent of burning.

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Welp, that's a chapter. I know I said I'd try to publish on a weekly basis, but summer quarter is tough. Meh, scheduling fun stuff wasn't that good of an idea anyways. Hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day.