The Nameless Child
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( Author Note: Do you remember when I asked you guys to read chapter 23: Move Combos because I added some extra paragraphs? This chapter is why I did that, get ready for an existential crisis and calling me a sadistic bastard in the comments. Thanks 👍 ) 


[ POV Change ]

What is the universe?

Maybe it is an unimaginably harsh and colossal space of death..... impossible to survive in with just the naked body, save a few seconds.

Maybe we are all just wandering...

within the confines of death.

Sadness is felt when we wonder why we live in ..... this state.

What is the meaning of existence?

Where are we all headed?

What is the meaning of life?




Do we all exist just to exist?


Is there some meaning to our existence?







[ Viridian Forest - Unknown Bunker ]

The Basement.

A place where no one's voice can reach and not a speck of sunlight enters.

In a dimly lit room, a malnourished woman's cries drowned out the static of the old television.

( ~ Aghhhhhh ~ )

Blood decorated the floor in red as the malnourished woman gave birth.

( ~ Aghhh ~ )

( ~ Agh ~ )

( ~ Groan ~ )

Amid the fear and madness, a girl was born.

The woman's hands trembled as she gazed upon her crying child.

Her hand snaked towards the baby's neck.

Each inch as they moved closer and closer, the woman told herself.

You don't have to live in this hell.

But the touch of the baby's hand against her own caused the malnourished woman to stop.

She couldn't do it.

How could a mother kill her child?








Humans... are born into the world.

Each takes their path.... and learns of the world.

Mother.....The vessel that makes the child feel loved.

Father.....The vessel that makes the child feel safe.

Ego.....Shaped by society one lives in.

Joy...Comes and goes like the wind.

Sadness..... a stop in the path of life that makes or breaks the gem of life.

Dreams..... gives willful meaning to life.

Despair..... takes color from life.

Freedom... shows us the beauty of the world.

Responsibility.... ties us to society.

Beauty... a desire of all.

Ugliness.... an inevitability that we keep hidden.

The End.... the last stop of the path of life.

The Beginning... after every end there is a new beginning to life.






And life was also given to this girl.

( ~ Creak ~ )

As the door opened a monster with blood-red eyes glared back at the curious eyes of a young child.

This was the young girl's life.

The television always showed a loving family to the girl but her family was anything but loving.

How did she survive this long?

Merely because of luck or perhaps because the girl's father had a shred of humanity left or maybe it was because of those powers she had been born with?

Legend has it that some were chosen by the viridian forest spirit to wield great powers.

Those that received these powers were known by the people of old as the chosen Mew.

While the people viewed such beings as Gods, they viewed themselves as cursed people.

This girl was also one of the chosen.

Maybe it was the result of this curse that she had survived.

Her tears had long since dried up 


Maybe it was due to her curse that she could heal herself as her father took out her anger on her, and her pain tolerance grew.

Whatever the reason, the girl wished for death over and over again.

But she couldn't die.

Even in this world of pain and anguish, the girl's life wasn't extinguished.

While her malnourished mother tried to stop the beast from hurting her child.

The girl's inner self ceased living.

The girl stopped crying.

Since birth, that's the only way she had been treated by others.

She wasn't sad or resentful.

That was all she knew.

That was her life.

All she knew was pain inflicted upon her by the beast she called father.

Yes, that is all.

( ~ Boil ~ )

( ~ Boil ~ )

" Mom... " The young girl said to her trembling mother.

" Instant noodles."

The mother in response threw the bowl at the wall as the little girl blankly glanced at it.

" Why do I.... why do I have to..." The malnourished woman kept asking herself as the young girl cleaned up the mess her mother had made.

" You have to eat well." The young girl replied.

The malnourished woman tried to cry yet no tears seemed to come out.

" or you'll be hungry." The young girl followed up as the room was filled with nothing but silence.

( ~ Slurp ~ )

( ~ Chew ~ )

( ~ Chew ~ )

The young girl ate in silence in a room covered in mold connected to a foul-smelling bathroom.

Bottles of alcohol roll around the floor.

A blinking light bulb and an old television.

Father, Mother, and a girl who had lived for 60,240 hours.

A 344 Square foot room.

This was the girl's world.

Then one day an alien life entered the girl's world.

" Ratata. "

 The door to the sink opened up revealing a rattata.

A long time ago, someone told a story.

There was a prisoner born inside a cave, the prisoner was tied up so that he could only see the cave's inner wall.

Only the shadows projected from the entrance showed him a glimpse of the world like the little girl whose world was filled with nothing but violence inflicted on her or her mother by the beast she called a father.

Then one day the prisoner escaped.

As the girl followed the Rattata up the pipes connecting to the sink.

As the prisoner saw the world for the first time.

2510 days after she was born, she came face to face with the outside world.

The girl was left mesmerized by the world as she touch the walls.

Saw the light provided by the stars and the moon.

Pidgeys flew in the night sky as she walked and walked and walked.

The world was suddenly so big for her.

" Huh? Hi there, haven't seen you around here before."

( ~ BA-DUMP ~ )

( ~ BA-DUMP ~ )

It was the first time, the girl had seen anyone else in real life other than her mother and father.

( ~ BA-DUMP ~ )

( ~ BA-DUMP ~ )

" Did you recently move here?"

The young girl's mind was filled with thoughts and thoughts as the close encounter with the third kind occurred.

I should answer her.

But how? with words?

Can I call it moving?


He is tall.


Using my voice?

I don't know.

I can see his pupils.

Do I call him ' Sir?'

The girl's mind was filled with overwhelming thoughts.

" Hey, Are you ok?"

" Uh, .... yeah, Huh?"

" Yeah? it's nice to meet you. What's your name?"

" Uh, I don't know."

" Huh, you don't know but I can't keep calling you kid or people would think I kidnapped you, hmm... can I call you Yellow, kid."

For the first time in her life, the nameless child's eyes flickered with a smudge of happiness as she heard someone call her something.

Maybe to the ears of the child, Wilton Amarillo's words were more than just words.

It was a confirmation that she was someone.


[ Omake Paragraph ]

The various martial arts disciplines and sports around the world are typically based on the techniques used by fighting-type pokemon. For instance, boxing is based on a Hitmonchan's movements and techniques, and wrestling on that of a Machamp. The vast majority of these martial arts are based around ideas of strict internal calm and discipline, some even going so far as to emulate the psychic attack meditation.

The one notable exception to this was the Primeape fighting style. It was not designed for self-defense or sport, but for military use; as Primeape uses tools, so do Primeape fighters use weapons. Instead of learning to clear their thoughts, they were taught to recall every indignity they had ever suffered and turn all their sadness into anger, and in a battle to call up an uncontrollable rage. They would fight with unchallenged ferocity, always to the death, and pursue fleeing or even surrendered opponents over long distances with exceptional stamina before tearing them to pieces.

I refer to this discipline in the past tense, for it is no more. Through their status as elite troops, the Primeape fighters amassed a great deal of power, but the way they fought made them far more feared than loved. The warlords of Kanto who employed them secretly sent a team of envoys to the emperor to request that their use be outlawed, and the emperor eagerly complied. Some bands lay down their arms, while others turned on their masters and resisted with the kind of courage that epics are written about. They were all wiped out to the last man.

Some have attempted to resurrect the art in modern times, but none of the attempted successors have produced fighters worthy of the Primeape name.