“Everything is simple,” Leo hissed to himself, slamming an open palm into the tree trunk and biting back a wince at the pain.
He danced backwards, feet sliding into a firm, solid stance as he continued to circle the tree.
His hands were held out towards the trunk, palms facing his chest as he slowly moved around it.
“If winter is coming, then I just need to leave before it gets here,” Leo said, sliding in and striking the tree with his elbow, followed by a knee and a singular punch before he backed off.
“If I can’t hunt, then I’ll just smoke some fish and make due with veggies and bugs,” Leo told himself, anger flashing through his chest.
He snarled and punched the tree multiple times, tearing the skin on his knuckles and causing them to bleed – though he didn’t care.
“If I can’t find a pokemon to travel with me then I’ll make due and figure things out myself,”
Another flash of irritation welled up inside Leo, though he stamped this one down and settled back, correcting his stance so his legs weren’t too close together and he was less off-balance.
As he moved he was beginning to remember what it felt like to be “in stance” and how it felt to move about in the style of martial art his father had taught him, though it would take a bit more time for him to really get back into the groove.
He was too small now, too weak, and it’d been at least a year and a half since his last lesson in the art.
“If tyrogue want to pick fights with me, then I just have to get stronger.
If I can’t make a stupid hat because the grass sucks and I don’t actually know how to weave, then fine!
I’ll just get a tan,” Leo ground out, taking a deep breath and practicing a few kicks against the tree.
The first few were hesitant, his bare shins – for he was naked save for his underpants at the moment – tapping the bark gently a few times until Leo got annoyed with his own hesitance and slammed his leg against the tree.
“The answer is simple, don’t complicate things, Leo,” he told himself, breathing heavily and relaxing his stance, glaring up at the midday sun.
“Slooow,” one of the slowbro called from off to his right, where it stood watching him curiously.
“Don’t mind me.
Just working myself out of a funk.
That Tyrus thing really messed with me for some reason,” Leo assured it, running a hand down his face.
For the past two days he’d been mulling over everything he’d heard and witnessed until he came to the conclusion that he needed to stop thinking about it.
Despite his initial reaction, solutions to big problems usually were simple.
Winter was coming?
Leave.
Don’t want to die?
Don’t piss off a tyranitar.
Simple as that.
“Brooo,” the slowbro answered, turning and walking back to the lake.
The herd was almost to the end by now, looking like they were ready to start heading further downriver.
Leo sighed and glanced around the big valley he had apparently spent months in.
He was familiar with this land – he knew where to find food, where to find whetstones for his knife and skarmory feathers, and even where a pile of the flint-like rocks he needed to spark against his knife was.
But that comfort was also holding him back, holding him here, and Leo needed to move on.
Letting out a breath, Leo closed his eyes and folded his hands beneath his navel.
He breathed slowly, in and out, imagining for a moment that all of the irritation and anger that had built up ever since Slowking left him alone near Tyrus’ mountain was flowing out of his feet and into the ground on every exhale.
His body relaxed slowly, muscles untensing and thoughts becoming less cluttered as he did this small meditative exercise.
Things were going to be ok, he just had to survive.
How does that poem go?
Leo asked himself, trying to remember the words.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horrors of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
“Sloooow,” a slowpoke called, and Leo jumped in surprise.
“Did you have to do that?!
I was trying to psyche myself up!” Leo snapped, whirling on the slowpoke angrily.
It ignored his outburst and stared past him, fixated on something behind him.
Leo glanced over his shoulder and sighed in irritation.
“If its not one thing it’s another.
What do you want?” Leo asked sharply, turning to glare at the hitmontop that was walking in his direction.
It looked a little scuffed up, but Leo thought he recognized it as the same one he had fought before.
Back when it was a tyrogue anyway.
The blue-furred pokemon seemed to just grin at him, weaving its way around a thicket of brush that reached up to mid-thigh on it, and stopping about ten feet away from the edge of the trees Leo was standing in, out in the middle of a small meadow.
“It has come here to challenge you again,” Slowking said from behind Leo, making him jump and whirl again.
“Would you all stop doing that?!” Leo yelped, then scowled when he realized how whiney he had just sounded.
“Stop sneaking up on me, and why is it challenging me?” Leo hissed.
Slowking smirked, clearly enjoying the situation.
“You are the one who has been declaring your challenge to the world for the past hour.
Hitmontop here lost a fight to the lucario a few hours ago – it’s returning to fight you because you helped it evolve.
Since you’ve been so vocal in your intent to fight, it decided to pay you a visit,” Slowking said.
“I’ve just been punching a tree for a little bit!” Leo exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air and stalking toward the hitmontop.
He was pissed off as it was, and wanted to start a fight anyway.
“But if it’s a fight it wants, then it’s a fight it will get!”
“Odd choice,” Slowking said, and Leo scowled, exiting the trees and raising his hands into a fighting stance.
“Don’t die,”
“Shut up!” Leo barked, and the hitmontop charged.
It only took two moves for the hitmontop to land a kick to Leo’s chest and send him flying, his back slamming into a tree.
The pain only served to flare his temper more as he fell to his knees, swiftly rising and fixating a glare at the hitmontop.
Leo snarled and raised his fists again, uncaring that he was going to take an absolute beating here.
He needed to hit something.
The hitmontop grinned at him and charged, thankfully not doing the unfair spinning-like-a-top move, tossing a light punch that Leo met with his face, bulldozing his way through the strike to return it in kind, punching the hitmontop in the face as hard as he could.
Blood trickled from Leo’s nose but he ignored it, pressing his advantage as he smashed an elbow into the hitmontop’s chest, immediately transitioning the blow into an open palm strike to its jaw, followed by a knee to its leg and another punch with his other hand – the latter of which was caught by the hitmontop.
With a cry it spun Leo around, tossing him away and chasing after him, smashing a foot into his ribs while he struggled to remain standing, effectifely sending him to the ground.
Leo hissed and rolled away, the hitmontop kneeing and kicking him every time he tried to stand.
Leo cursed and reversed directions, rolling into the hitmontop and knocking it off balance as he threw his entire body weight into its legs.
It didn’t go down however and promptly punched Leo in the back of the head, sending him sprawling onto the ground.
And he just…lay there, vision swimming and head pounding until the words from that poem echoed in his head.
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
With a groan Leo pushed himself up, wiping the blood off his face with one hand and fixing the hitmontop with a cool glare as it stood a few feet away, watching him curiously.
He needed to calm down.
Settle down, and then fight.
He was lucky enough as it was that this was still a young hitmontop, not a really experienced one.
…
A/ N: The Story Needs More Power Stones 😉