Robin sat on the hill, pensive. She watched Type: Null watch her pokemon. Her team was relaxing at the dusk-covered park. Volbeats lit the sky. Sinistea floated along with the bugs, Snorlax reached up to a tree and ate its berries lazily, and her Flutter Mane enjoyed the reflections of the coming night sky across the lake's gentle lapping waves.

Type: Null did not play with others. It did not eat with others.

Robin leaned backwards until she was pressed against the hill and looking at the stars. She didn't know how to integrate it into her team. How did you fit a broken shard of glass into an already-complete mirror?

There was no place for it. Her team was hand-crafted from all of her experiences as a Ranger and in the gym series. She only had one badge to show for her three battles, but her team had evolved greatly for it. She would win her future fights. But it didn't solve the problem right in front of her: if her team was already a well-oiled machine, how could she squeeze Type: Null into it? Combat strategy didn't play into it. All the classes from Gwyar couldn't help her make sense of the social aspect of team-building beyond that bond of trust. And even that... she felt Type: Null did trust her. Which was insane. She had offered it an opportunity to join the wilds, as she didn't want it in custody where it would see a laboratory setting again. That would trigger it, certainly.

But it had stayed. It tended to stay close to her side. Robin hadn't earned such faith. No, Null had been forcibly brought into existence, and it's first experience had been witnessing Robin beat the snot out of the scientist. It should have associated her with violence. It should have been disgusted with her like she was with herself. But the anger, in the moment, had been so righteous and overwhelming.

People always thought they knew what was best. They always thought they were right. It looked like a scientist holding an experiment's value about the value of humanity and goodness. It looked like a Rocket holding a pursuit of power above the peace of mind of Hoennians. It looked like a gym leader who thought shadow pokemon were dirty and evil and disqualified a capable Ranger. It looked like her family holding the value of their image above their own compassion for her: a whole string of psychics with no room for the black sheep who couldn't see the future. She was tired of people who came up with a philosophy or a single goal and held it above all else. She hated them.

And, honestly. She hated herself. The rescue in March had been rough. The days after, with Null, were not much easier. Punching the scientist who had forced Type: Null's birth had left her hand with ugly splotches of color as if she had made oran-chesto jam by smashing the berries with her fist. She healed slow. Robin had refused fairy assistance at the pokemon center. She wanted to remember it. The mark had to stay until she felt better, until Null felt better, until she had her head back in the game.

Gwen had been so scared. Gwen's panic had been so real. And Robin's elbow knocking into her best friend's face had broken her glasses and busted her nose up. The guilt sat heavy in her stomach. The night sky above grew blurry as she remembered the spurt of blood that had come from Gwen's nose. More importantly, she thought about that split second desire to go back to punching the scientist anyways.

She had betrayed her best friend. She had forsaken her own compassion for that righteous anger. But people in power were making decisions for everyone else, at the expense of anything they deemed unworthy, and that warranted anger - a deep, all-consuming rage. The scientist and her parents and Josh were all proof that anyone in a position of power would uphold their beliefs and values and goals above the well-being of everyone else.

Hot tears streaked down her face. She barely had time to wipe at her eyes when Null was by her side, its presence quiet and weighty in equal amounts. She turned to it, stunned. It simply sat down beside her, its helmeted head leaning against hers, just feeling what she was feeling.

And slowly, realization struck Robin as she turned her gaze back to the night sky: perhaps, it was that very righteous anger that had bought Null's trust, that the depth of feeling stood so opposite of the scientist's apathy or that her own anger had matched its own and aligned them. Null did not trust her in spite of her messy feelings but because of them.