smoke signals
It wasn't that Kai hadn't been communicating, it was just that Kai was sending up white smoke that you could only sometimes see for the clouds.
Tyson understood in a fit of inspiration, and spent 24 hours in tune with Kai. Like when they'd battled, when they were in their PLACE and he could swear that he'd known what Kai thought. And felt. And wanted.
It was a melancholy feeling because he always forgot… what Kai had been thinking. A memory now vague and dream-like, but he was sure he'd have recognized it if he felt it again. Kai's thoughts alongside his. For instance these 24 hours felt familiar, but better than he could have remembered, better than he could have hoped for.
In the end he knew he'd forget—for some reason he was sure of that. But he tried to be happy, he tried to make Kai happy… an easier task when you really knew what he was thinking. And feeling. And wanting. It was so much easier—and so much worse when around noon Tyson realized that he didn't know. And so would never be able to deliver. He'd misread.
And then he was glad to forget.