[attr="class","dannypostlyric1"]it's only change

[attr="class","dannypostlyric2"]YOU WON'T SURRENDER, BUT NOW YOUR HEART IS BREAKING

[attr="class","dannypostleft3"]



For all of the perks that came with being a champion, there were an awful lot of downsides that came nipping at their heels. Sure, there was fame and quite a bit of fortune that came with the name – special living accommodations, access to places and things that most people dreamed of having, and more exotic foods than he thought his stomach could... well, stomach – but being the supposed “strongest trainer in the region” affiliated with the Association often times made him out to be some sort of disposable weapon, expected to arrive at every beck and call and do exactly as told by whichever higher up told him to do it. In some cases, his memory problems allowed him the chance to get off in instances that any other champion in the region's history would be stuck doing some menial task. In most cases, he was fed the same sob story (even if he didn't remember any of the ones that came before it) of how he was “the region's last hope”, even if such had never actually been the case up until that point, and expected to drop everything to play the role of the chairmens' most loyal dog. He was always a good sport about it, of course. In truth, he didn't have much to do outside of his Association-related work. Few friends, a non-existent love life, hobbies that he couldn't even remember doing him little good... If anything, sometimes the missions they asked of him were a much better way to spend the day than whatever he would have done otherwise. Other times, though... Other times turned out like this.[break][break]

Danny's gaze drifted between the face of his partner, the wall behind them, and the motion of his sweating palms failing to rid themselves of the perspiration against the fabric of his clothing. He'd never actually had a job before his current line of work, the likes of which was hardly what would be considered “normal work”, and even with his complete failure of a memory, he doubted that he'd ever been in the back room of such an establishment before. He'd already forgotten when the establishment even was twice before a scan of the room caught him back up with a nameplate – the N M 156 Cafe, apparently. Despite the modest nature of the room, all white-walled and sparsely furnished and decorated, there was still a sense of awe that flooded through him at the new environment. Awe, rather, that was quickly replaced by sympathy at the sight of the cafe's tired looking workers rushing to and fro, into the room and out, sometimes all the way across as though there was some horrendous fire that needed to be put out in the back corner. (Twice now he'd looked, just to be sure. Still no fire.) This, supposedly, was a normal day for the oddly dressed waitresses that barely had the time to acknowledge their presence. This, supposedly, was also a very average look for the room. Nothing was out of place. Nothing at all save for the elephant in the room. Or, more accurately, the two elephants in the room: he and Sora, standing awkwardly no more than two feet apart from each other and staring at their reflections in a mirror. Two grown men – very much men – stared back at them, each dressed from head to toe in an elaborate maid costume.[break][break]

The raven-haired trainer broke the illusion of stone by bringing a hand up to pinch his nose, eyes closed tight as if trying to shut the image out of his brain. (Too late; it was already stuck.) Because of his impeding memory problems, the Association was always careful to be sure that he never went out into the field alone, always leaving with a second brain to remind him of his mission whenever he forgot what, exactly, he was supposed to be setting out to do. To begin with, as well, he'd been overjoyed at the knowledge that his partner would the Umbreon gijinka that stood next to him, a friend who had, as if by some miracle, actually imprinted himself on Daniel's memory. (Too bad the way they met also decided to stick around; that was another thing he was pretty sure he could stand to forget.) Now, though, he couldn't help be feel anything but shame. No one deserved to be dragged down into this with him, much less one of the very few people he could actually call a friend. He'd offer as many apologies as his tongue could form – but apologies didn't seem like nearly enough to make up for this mess. Too afraid to open his eyes, he dared to ask a question that he was sure he'd already asked at least once and wasn't so sure he wanted to know the answer to: “Why are we doing this, again?”