Kai clenches his fists while his handsome face twists with furious emotions tinged with helplessness. The news had hit him hard, but it didn't let that get in the way of keeping his eyes on Jared, in case he dares try anything in his moment of weakness.

Jared looks at the small boy behind him with softer eyes, and clicks his tongue when he spys the exact moment the light in those once expectant eyes turns dead once more.

Kalio's small fragile hands lose their strength, forcing him to release Kai's clothes as his knees buckle from underneath him. Tears start pouring down his childish face from his hollow eyes. He doesn't make a sound.

Jared's eyes glaze over in thought as he watches the scene, (this place is starting to appear more and more like earth... maybe crueler, yes... yes, I know it well, in the place I was born, sights like this are not uncommon.)

Not having the heart to continue observing the painful scene, Jared turns to walk away, but he looks back when a question pops into his head, "Hey Kai, how did you boys end up on the streets?"

Kai ignores the question, and he picks the unresponsive Kalio up, before throwing him over his shoulder.

While trudging away, he snarls with clenched teeth without looking back, "None of your business old man!"

Scratching his head Jared unlocks his door and heads inside.

He tries to lighten his mood by noting how funny it was that someone who has lived more days than him was calling him an old man, but his heavy emotions don't brighten in the slightest.

With heavy feelings, he gets himself a drink of water from the small kitchen sink and throws some rice in a pot. As he watches the pot of rice simmer, he slowly begins losing himself in a cloud of hazy thoughts,

(Was it not long ago that I vowed to become the greatest trainer, and save kids like Kai and Kalio? Is my resolve so weak that I feel leisurely enough to go sightseeing at the Mr.Mime Cafe?)

The saddened man slaps his cheeks.

(No... and I don't even know if I'll age three times slower like the rest, is my remaining time on this earth truly abundant enough to accomplish my goals if I continue to waste it so frivolously, can my dream be accomplished so halfheartedly?)

"No"

(And four months isn't long at all... after this precious time passes, how much will I be able to study if I'm forced into backbreaking labor?)

"No" he whispered louder

(I'm far behind the others in knowledge and years, if I don't give it one hundred percent there is no breaching that gap.)

"NO" He yells

"Yes, I think it's time I discover just how strong my own resolve is, and just how much of my own blood... yes, let's see just how many blood and tears I'm willing to shed, let's see if my resolve is more than just a fading flicker."

After finishing the last grain of cooked rice in his bowl, his eyes begin to gain another imperceivable ember as he glares at one of the bags of uncooked rice.

--

(Hello again dear invisible audience did you know I have a superpower?)

(Don't worry my dear invisible audience I'll explain! Do you know how certain memories become seared in your mind as a child, such as when you hurt yourself badly or you were exposed to a traumatizing situation and you can never forget them no matter how much you try?)

(My superpower is just that! While I can't fly like superman, or run super fast, I have the power of masochism!)

(For whatever reason, I am able to sear anything I see into my mind as long as I expose myself to an unbearable amount of pain.)

(But don't get too worried my invisible audience, for I have no plans on permanently harming myself!)

(How then am I going to go about this task then you might ask?)

(Well, my dear audience, I had just earlier removed my clothes and laid them to the side, then I sprinkled some rice on the concrete floor next to my bed, and I'm currently kneeling there while trying to memorize a book called *A Short History of Alola* all the while trying not to scream.)

(But why then am I monologing you might ask my dear listeners?)

(Well, as you know, when I'm in a situation that is too unacceptable for my own mind to handle, to prevent my mind from collapsing I start writing novels in my head in an effort to distance myself from the external world. It was a trick I instinctively learned to survive my parental abuse!)

(Pity the novel-writing trick only works against external stimuli and not my own thoughts, or I wouldn't keep having emotional breakdowns, oh well, small blessing Jared!)

(So then, Jared, you might ask, Isn't spending all your time monologing and not memorizing inefficient?)

(Tut tut tut, yes and no, while I can only memorize in this state and not comprehend a single thing being searing into my head due to the blinding pain, once it's seared in there it still becomes several times easier to fully absorb the information after the fact!)

(I'm like a savant! everyone calls me the masochist of all savants even! well none but me calls me that except me, but even if I'm the only one to say it that still counts for something, right, me? *right!* ok it's good to see we are on the same page, and that you agree with myself, me!)

--

After about an hour, the sweat and pain become too much to ignore and starts making Jared dizzy, so he decides to take a break.

He painfully drags himself to the mattress, and he sits down with a wince.

Without the blinding pain, his mind slowly becomes clear.

He starts picking the pieces of rice out of his bleeding knees while taking the time to try and digest what he just memorized.

While pondering the newly seared information, he takes a shaky glance at the small pool of blood next to his bed, and can't help but think to himself, (well that was horrific, but he still felt it wasn't nearly as painful as watching Kalios hollow eye's... let's be strong.)

A half-hour later the shaking stops somewhat, and now feeling a bit less dizzy he struggles himself up to clean the blood and scattered rice.

He repeats the process a few more times, but with each new attempt he's forced to take a longer break, his stamina was recovering less and less each time.

He finally decides to stop when a quarter of the book is perfectly memorized.

He glances up from his trembling knees, and he peers out from the small barred window from his mattress. He found the sun was nearly set.

He lets loose another shaky sigh, then mocks himself, "time sure flies when you're having fun... no actually it doesn't... that felt like an eternity of torment."

After he finishes picking the rice embedded in his bloody knees, he leans over next to his mattress and picks up his phone. He taps it once to make it light up, and finds the time is already Nine thirty PM.

Feeling anemic, he stands up shakily and makes his way to the bathroom.

(The bathroom has no shower or bath, and the hot water doesn't work, but he just shakes his head with a thought, half the point of showering is to enjoy the feeling of the hot water anyway, so it's no big deal.)

He grabs one of the cloths he had the presence of mind to purchase, and with gritted teeth he sits on the toilet.

The bathroom is so cramped that it's possible to reach the small sink from the toilet seat, so he leaned over, and steadies his shaking hands just enough to turn on the tap.

The water comes out in a sputter, and with his other hand, he wets the cloth with the lukewarm tap water, and then he spends nearly ten minutes cleaning himself off.

He begins preparing some more tasteless brown rice, and he forces it down his throat despite his nausea.

While he owns a wooden spoon, he's not using it this time.

He had tried holding it earlier, but quickly gave up that idea, and tossed it aside when his quivering hands failed to remain steady enough to eat with it.

Forcing himself not to vomit up his precious rice in the fear of wasting it, he cleans up and stumbles to bed.

His last thought before sleep took him was nothing more than a prayer, a hope that his shaking body will steady itself by the time he wakes up, so he can repeat the same torment the next day.