- Azriel -

It wasn't long before his brother had found another fault in his training, 'Azriel, I told you this many times, go for the neck. It's a sure kill. What you did there will surely tire you out. And you WILL die.' Azriel let his head sink when he realized what he had done wrong, but even so, he didn't want to feel the rush of blood in his mouth as he ripped into the neck of the unsuspecting human.

'I will get it right next time, brother.' His brother sighed, 'I hope so, you know these humans won't hesitate to kill you if they had the chance, especially a small, inexperienced Poochyena like yourself.' Azriel fell to the floor in defeat, he knew what his brother said was true, because he experienced it first hand, the death the humans bring when they meet a pokemon is...

He felt a firm paw on his shoulder, 'Don't worry, even I was at the stage you're in,' his brother gave him a weak smile, 'all you have to do is practice.' No matter what words his brother spoke, Azriel knew he was lagging behind in the training. And one thing's for sure, if you can't keep up, they can do nothing but leave you, it's not personal, it's done to ensure they survive...

'I think that's enough training for one day, why don't you go on your usual patrol before returning for dinner.' The Poochyena nodded, though he knew his brother only sent him there, knowing no human ever showed. He sighed when he saw his brother's tail disappear in the dense forest, then whispered, 'did...did the humans have to go through all of this as well?'

His patrol route was just on the outskirts of the forest, near the eastern-side. It was close to the human settlement, distance wise, but for the six days he was appointed this position, he saw neither hide nor hair of any humans. Azriel's eyes caught sight of one of the many carved stones that inhabited the space between the cities intimidating walls and the end of the forest. He had tried to figure out what the stones were without entering human territory...which was what you'd do if you left the forest, but he was unsuccessful; all he could deduce was that they had these strange handmade markings on them. He guessed it was handmade because of how untidy and illegible it was.

"Do...do you think father is right sending me to that school?" Azriel's eyes widened at the sound of what he thought was a young human boy. But instead of doing what his brother said and call for help, he crept closer, to get a look at this human.

He was right. It was a boy, and it was evident that he was young, though the way his green eyes glanced at one of the stones told Azriel that he experienced something horrific. The boy fell to his knees, gripped the ground and the grass tightly with his hands, "Why did you have to leave?!" Azriel's eyes widened as he saw drops of tears hit the ground, "why...?" It was a strange feeling to see a human that actually had emotions, brother always depicted them as heartless, cruel beings that shouldn't deserve to live, but...seeing this, Azriel's heart warmed to the boy, 'this is why I don't want to kill, it's because they also lose someone dear and near when one of them die...not just us...' Azriel's suppressed crying himself and settled for studying the child.

The boy's complexion was a pale tan, his hair a light-brown, that if it were any lighter, it would have been blonde. It was cut short, but not too short. He still had a fringe, but it didn't cover his eyes. The hair also didn't go over any of his ears or the collar of the huge, black overcoat the child was wearing. When he said black, he meant pitch, black hole, suck in all light, black. And that seemed to be the only colour the boy wore, because other than the coat, he had a black t-shirt, and the same colour short, knee-length, pants, with black shoes.

Strangely, to Azriel, black suited the child, maybe that was because of those black bags under the child's eyes...?

For the next hour, Azriel just sat there, watching the child. The child had stopped crying and was now writing in a, guess what colour, (black) book. And every now and then, would look up at the sky, but he never spoke again.

'Azriel! What are you still doing here?' Instantly he tried to cover, 'I was just...brother I can explain...' He sighed when his brother saw the boy, 'were you watching him?' Azriel hesitated before nodding, 'do you know why he's here anyway, brother?' His brother gazed at the child for a second, then smiled, 'he probably came to visit a dead relative.' A...dead relative...? Azriel thought, then those must be...graves!

'Is there a reason you decided to watch him?' Azriel gazed up at his brother, then smiled before shaking his head, though what he really meant was, it's because he reminds me of...me. 'Then let's go, before your food get's stolen.' Azriel nodded, before following his brother. Glancing back, he mumbled, 'I wish you...happiness-'

'I must warn you.' Azriel's eyes widened, his brother must have seen him staring at the child one last time, 'even though he may look sad and harmless, you must, as in, MUST be careful. They are taught from childhood to hate us. And they too would kill us on a whim.' Azriel couldn't comprehend seeing this child hurting anyone, if anything; he would know how it felt to lose someone so he wouldn't want to inflict that pain to someone else.

At that second, Azriel could have sworn the child's green gaze stared straight into his own. A sudden, spontaneous thought came with it, 'say hi!'

Azriel shook that out of his head, along with a picture of the human petting him, then blushed. 'I...better go now,' and left

- Dylan -

"Does everyone know what happened on The Last Day?" I was trying to stay inconspicuous at the edge of the class, doing that classic student thing by looking away off into the distance...pfft, as if that made you invisible. "Dylan, I know you just arrived, but why don't you give it a try?" Shit, it didn't work; I rolled my eyes...surprising. "That's the day when the pokemon first began killing us." She gave a nod in agreement, before saying, "Yes, that's right. They were the initiators of this war, we were just defending ourselves." It was as if she was trying to convince a jury...and that wasn't the whole truth anyway, the pokemon had a reason to kill those scientists, "A Professor was killed that night, along with his students. How would you feel if pokemon rushed through the windows there and began slaughtering everyone here?" There was a mumble of discontentment from the rest of my classmates, I just gave them a 'seriously?' look, and waited for the teacher to continue.

She pointed at the date on the chalk board, "I want you all to remember the practical next week, it's important because if you pass, you'll be able to wield your first segment." My eyes widened at that one word, where as everyone else gave cheers of excitement. Segments were items, anything really, that humans used to fight the pokemon, they mimicked pokemon attacks, but were upgraded to, instead of making the pokemon faint, kill them. I sighed, I have to remember to stay away that day, I don't want to hurt the pokemon...

"Dylan, come to my desk after the lesson, I will explain everything then." She continued with the class, but I didn't feel like paying attention, because I knew the real truth, so instead, I rested my head on the cold, solid black cover of my journal. The one I've been keeping since my grandmother taught me to write. "I wonder what she would have said knowing I was here, learning this..."

The class seemed to go on forever, but when it did end, the fresh air from a southerly breeze already made me feel better. I could see most of the other children talking, laughing, enjoying...I smiled and looked at myself, maybe I would be more approachable if I didn't drown myself in black. "Hey, Dylan, do you have any plans later? We have a place open-"

I grimaced, but didn't look at the male voice, "Sorry, I have to visit a relative, I made a promise." The boy waved his hands, "don't worry, another time perhaps?" I nodded, "that would be great." Though I knew I didn't mean it, but father would kill me if he found out I turned down my first opportunity at friendship.

The boy quickly skittered away, I wasn't lying when I said I had a relative to visit...but it wasn't like she was going anywhere anyway.

My grandmother's grave was as I left it the day before...well it's not like I thought something might have moved or happened, but the last time those thoughts entered my mind, she died...

I whispered, "Hey..." Put the flowers down, and caressed the etchings on the stone, before grimacing, "I remember how you hated people calling you Elizabeth, you thought it made you seem too old, as if you came from the eighteen-hundreds..." As I said her name, I felt the grooves that spelt it. And I couldn't help but feel the pain I felt the day it happened...I shook back the tears. "They lie when they say the pain subsides or gets easier..." I looked away, before laughing, "I doubt they thought it would last seven years." I inhaled one deep, shaky breath, "Do...do you think father is right sending me to that school?" The grave didn't answer, I almost laughed when I realized I thought it would. If she were here she would know exactly what to say, exactly how to help me and make me feel better, exactly...

I couldn't keep it in any longer, I fell to my knees, slammed my hands against the ground, and gripped the sand and grass so tightly that my fingers began to bleed, "Why did you have to leave?!" I could see the wet drops against the ground as many of my tears fell towards and eventually hit it. "Why...?" I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop it. I wept.

I can't say when I stopped, but the comforting touch of my journal made me take it out and open to the last page, I kept an envelope filled with my grandmother's photos there, photos of her and her pokemon, smiling, playing. I smiled slightly as I caressed over it, I could tell you exactly what was on those three photos, yet I would constantly gaze at them, and feel a slight, and short-lived euphoria, before usually sighing, and realizing I could never live in those times, no matter how much I wished it so.

I scribbled on the first empty page I had, just my thoughts at the time; if this class would actually serve a purpose, but I doubted it. If I would ever let someone get close enough to see the real me, again, I doubted it. But there was one thing I was sure of...I would NOT hurt any pokemon. They are...they are living beings too, I just couldn't live...with myself seeing the life drain from someone's eyes.

I was about to end my journal entry when I heard a strange, muffled whispering coming from the nearby trees. I didn't turn my head to see, I...I couldn't. Come-on. Would you? Look at the possibilities. Either it's a pokemon and in these times that would certainly mean my death, or a ghost...what? I'm in a cemetery, and I'm a...believer. OR, and the most popular, I was just hearing voices. I...I can't deliberate why I said it was the most popular, it's...something personal, well that and I was certain the language the voices spoke was English and humans can't understand pokemon can they?

I inhaled, exhaled, then sighed, look dammit, LOOK!

I looked. It was the strangest thing I've seen, two eyes, with whites pupils, red irises and yellow scleras. The eyes were all I could see, well that and I was certain it had fur, a dark, grayish fur. My eyes widened, shit, it's a pokemon. My heart sped up as I realized what that meant for me. I'm...dead.

But that's when the eyes looked away, before the pokemon dashed into the distance. Firstly I was disappointed, and that disappointment scared me. I slapped my forehead, I'm not that far gone, am I? I can't want to die...I'm over this already, right? I hit myself again, with every successive word, "stupid, stupid, stupid." But sighed when I realized I didn't care that I was getting hurt, I actually wanted it to continue.

I cried.

This time however, I didn't shout, or even weep loudly. The only thing that made me aware that I was, was the water leaking from my eyes, I chuckled, before resting against my grandmothers grave, "I can't even cry properly."

The pen streamed across the familiar lined paper of my journal, 'My name is Dylan Marshall, I'm fourteen years old, and...I wish this pain would finally end.'

It had been a hundred and thirty one years since the beginning of the war, since a pokemon and a human could come into contact without having to kill each other...until now.