The next day Leo and the Slowpoke gorged themselves.
The healing move the Slowbro had used, which Leo could only assume was heal pulse, had left Leo and the Slowpoke herd noticeably thinner and weaker.
He could only assume that was because the wounds had to use something to fix themselves up with, and it wasn’t raw “magic healing power” heal pulse used.
This led to the routine feasting of fish, insects, and edible plants for both Leo and the Slowpoke, the Slowpoke surprising Leo by showing that they did, in fact, know about the potato plant, as they dug up the tubers in mass quantities.
By midday, basking in the warmth of the sun by laying on a rock, Leo felt almost human again.
If one didn’t count the torn, blood-soaked shirt that clothed him, and the pervasive weakness in his limbs.
It’d take more than just one day of good eating to get back up to tip-top shape, Leo was sure.
Still, as he lay on a large rock by the edge of the lake, two Slowpoke laying below him in the mud as they all basked in the sun, Beedrill buzzing on the far edge of the water and Murkrow cawing as they flew through the air, Leo turned his thoughts to the previous night.
The slash on his chest was an angry red line, sure to leave a scar, same as the two holes on his shoulders.
He shuddered at the memory, and how lucky he’d been with that.
Had he not been near the Slowpoke, or had they chosen not to come battle the Sneasel, he would have been dinner.
It was plain and simple.
Honestly, Leo had prepared himself for the possibility of being attacked by a predator.
He’d imagined fighting an Ursaring, a Persian or Luxray, and even had notions on how to fight off massive birds of prey, like Pidgeot or Staraptor.
Nothing had prepared him for a pack of ice-wielding creatures of the dark, and it drove home one simple fact – he was not in the world he once knew.
Pokemon could do things he normally wouldn’t expect, and all his survival knowledge would only get him so far in a battle against creatures who could spit literal waves of snow.
This was something he knew academically before, but only now really understood.
Leo sighed and sat up, grabbing his atlatl from where it lay next to him and fitting a dart to the end as he stood, turning his back to the lake.
A circle of rocks was set up twenty five or so feet away from the boulder and Leo, after aiming for a second, hurled his dart at it.
It stabbed into the ground two feet to the left of the circle, making Leo frown.
“Way I see it, there are two solutions here, guys,” Leo said to the Slowpoke down below as he sat back down, propping his chin up on his fist.
“Either I figure out how to fight and hide myself better, or I somehow find a partner pokémon to help me out.
What do you think?” he asked.
The two Slowpoke looked up at him and, after a delay that stretched minutes, responded in low calls.
“Sloooow,” they rumbled.
“Both?
Well yeah, doing both is a good idea, but I don’t really know where to start with taming a pokémon.
No offense guys, but I’m not sure I want to rely on you in times of trouble.
Besides, I don’t really want to take any of you from your herd yet,” Leo reasoned with them.
“Sloooooooow,”
“Yeah, I know, but really, as much as I love you as pokémon now, I think I need something that can hide with me and travel with me.
You Slowpoke seem mostly confined to the river,” Leo argued.
“Don’t get me wrong, if I ever do become a trainer I’ll absolutely seek you all out and see if anyone wants to join me on whatever journey, but until then I’m going to keep mooching off of you, and mostly leave you be.
Hey, I’ll even be your early warning system, like I was with the Sneasel.
Because I’m pretty sure they were coming to prey on you all originally, what with the type advantage and how fat you all are.”
“Slow,” the Slowpoke said.
Leo sighed and rubbed his face, nodding.
“Yes, that is assuming I actually get back to civilization in the first place, I know.
But let’s get back to the matter at hand; finding a partner and befriending it through the power of anime.
It’s not like I have any pokeballs, those ancient ones are busted through and through, nor do I really think I have some superpower to befriend any pokémon I come across.
I’ve got to be reasonable here, but befriending a pokémon might be my only option.
Beyond that, I don’t know the first thing about training.
It’s not like I have a manual or any –” Leo cut himself off and straightened his back so quickly it cracked, his eyes widening.
“Waitaminute.
I may just have a training manual.
Stay here guys, I’ll be back,” Leo said, ending his imaginary conversation with the Slowpoke and jumping off the boulder, running back toward his camp.
He largely ignored the splashes of blood and obvious signs of a scuffle as he searched for Archibald’s book, and laughed triumphantly when he found it, safely tucked away in his backpack which had been largely left alone.
Returning to the rock and clambering up it, Leo flipped open the pages and grinned down at the words.
“Now, lets see what secrets you hold, hmm?”
…
Wood cracked against wood as Leo danced around the tree, ignoring the way his chest and shoulder muscles pulled tightly with each movement.
His staff – for it was just a staff now, as long as it didn’t have a spear head – was held loosely in front of him, levelled at his target as he focused.
He swept and twirled his staff, practicing motions he hadn’t used in far too long with a body far too small, striking firmly at the tree and working out his aggression.
Sweat beaded down his forehead from the exertion and Leo let out a breath, relaxing slightly and dropping his shoulders.
He hadn’t even been working that hard, but he was still light-headed from the Sneasel attack and healing two days ago, so any exercise was a bit harder on him.
Which really only served to irritate him further, as he took a deep breath and glared at the book set next to his backpack to the right.
It wasn’t the fact that it wasn’t really a training diary, and that Leo had to infer how to train and tame pokémon based on how Archibald described soothing other pokémon – discounting the idea of using one pokémon to beat up another – that had Leo worked up.
Nor was it that the book was so dry and boring it had taken a full two days just to get through.
That he hadn’t been sleeping well out of paranoia and fear didn’t help either, but right now that wasn’t the big issue.
No, what really worked him up was the name that had popped up on the very last page of the book and what it signified.
Grunting, Leo moved over to the journal and, after dropping his staff, flipped it open to the last filled-in page, about three quarters of the way through.
He had to read it again, for the fifteenth time, just to make sure he read it right.
Its been three weeks since I reached the Silver Mountains, and I think I’m getting close.
A nearby cave system holds some promise – serious seismic activity indicates onix activity below, which could be the cause of the mass agitation of pokemon in the area.
With any luck I’ll be in and out in a reasonable period of time.
I’d hate to be here when that blizzard hits.
Plus, I want to see Sam’s first Elite Four battle.
At the rate he’s going, it won’t be a surprise if there’s another Oak claiming the title of champion by the end of next year.
Guess the shadow I cast wasn’t that intimidating, huh?
And that was it.
No follow up, no nothing, but based on context from the rest of the journal it was clear that Archibald was the father of Sam.
Samuel Oak to be precise, which was too coincidental of a name to be anyone but the original pokémon professor himself.
Leo ground his teeth, unsure whether to scream in rage or laugh.
This was all just…way too coincidental.
Of course he would find the journal of Professor Oak’s deceased father.
“Where you’re meant to be,” Leo muttered mockingly, glaring up at the sky.
“I see what you’re doing, and I’m unamused!” he shouted, clenching his fists.
“Sloooow,” one of the Slowpoke called in answer.
Leo rolled his eyes and sat down, rubbing his face.
He sighed and moaned and groaned for a bit before standing and heading off in search of more food, wiping away all of his thoughts.
The problem with the journal could come later.
There were other problems to solve first, mostly revolving around his continued survival, and Leo intended to work on rectifying them.
So, whistling and singing a merry tune that wasn’t mirrored by his actual feelings, Leo headed off into the forest, his goal set.
Food, and then a pokémon.
…
A/ N: The Story Needs More Power Stones 😉