Chapter 3: 3: Vs Arbo (1)

I slowly blinked my eyes as I came to. The first thing I noticed was the warmth of the sun, while ever passive through its nurturing solar envelopment, never was it fearful in biting down with voracious variegated rays of garish light.

The ethereal orb of creation breathed at its zenith.

The second thing I noticed was that I, putting it in eloquent terms, felt like complete shit.

“Ughhh…”

Slowly stirring to lift my upper body from its prone position, I tried to remember what exactly happened…

Images flashed behind my eyelids in controlled dissonance before my eyes shot wide open as I frantically looked left and right. Yet, the only sight to greet me was not bloodied viscera hanging from the jaws of a malicious clouded entity, but simply the sight of melodic turquoise waves and me myself.

“What happened to me…” I asked, only to, of course, receive the aforementioned ambient noise as a response. No one, or thing, was around to respond to my questions, it seemed.

First from waking up to my Mystic Eyes (which apparently are now sealed?), bungee-jumping otherworldly invisospheres into multidimensional space, punching through that void into a body from another reality before literally punching a creature made of actual lightning; this day was beginning to turn out to be weirder than waking up on a beach and a small yellow mouse asking me if I was ok-”

I jumped to my feet and began fervently looking around, particularly at my backside.

…Phew, no amphibian tail and turtle shell or the like. I’m safe.

Yeah, let’s not worry about the little stuff right now. I’ve got much more pressing issues, as I noticed just now. For instance, this arm…

I winced as I both sensed, and felt, my right appendage proper.

Or what should have been proper.

Skin flayed around the knuckles, bloody and dry. It looked worse than I last remembered. That’s not even to mention the way my fingers are each pointing in erratic directions, like a Picasso painting.

I… didn't think they were broken since the bones don’t look bent half-way or anything, but they’re most definitely dislocated, to say the least. Probably fractured too, if the sharp stings interlacing these grinding, dull pulses are anything to go by.

Considering I swung them at what amounted to a creature that literally embodied lightning, I guess I can say I got off pretty lucky to even have an intact arm at this point… Or an intact anything, really.

I shook my head--even as doing so sent ripples of hot needles through my digit's flesh and shoulder (which I guess I can assume is dislocated as well) and walked towards the nearest tree to lean against and collect my thoughts.

My first priority should be to avoid making the wound even worse, I soon decided. Or, better yet, setting it back into place, so it doesn't become a further problem. Even better if I manage to do that without making too much noise and passing out as a result. A tall order to ask for, but one I can't afford to lack.

…I was just bursting with joy at that thought.

I looked towards the cloudless sky, then the sleepy sea, and finally the sand mixed with dirt beneath me and sigh.

Perhaps I would be more excited about being in this place if I didn’t have to worry about these injuries or the one that caused them. Indeed, I should be excited. This was a world full of magic and wonder that every kid and fan would dream of visiting.

Or it should have been, if not for psychotic murder sky bird and snakes.

Hell, I’d be more excited visiting any other world at this point. Notwithstanding thrice-damned mercy-reprimand crazy ass places like Midland, Tokyo-3, or Taisho Japan, of course.

…Hmm, okay, maybe I wouldn’t go to places like the Dragon Ball universe either if I had a say in it (pretty sure the Earth gets mass-culled like at least twice).

And while we're at it, the Shinobi World is pretty fucked up and chock-full of broken magic BS too. I guess, at least in the case of the world of Earthland-. Wait, yeah no, that place is a particular kind of messed up as well.

…Yugioh? Yeah, at least there everything is just about card games and-… Oh. Right.

…Is it just me, or does pretty much every popular mainstream fictional world I can think of experiencing E.L.E’s right from the start or in their very near futures?

Wait…this world should have that in spades too, doesn’t it?!

Fuckkk.

Coming to realize the very fabric of reality of the world I’m in will be/is getting stress tested on a yearly, if not monthly basis, nigh weekly basis is not how I expected my morning to go. But then again, I didn't expect any of this from the time I woke up to almost being burned alive, either. What's happening now is hardly an improvement, though.

Aghh! I want nothing to do with it!

The fact that the world I’m in isn’t simply one of fiction and fantasy as it was known to be in my world, as well as the implications of what that fact might mean, has me in shambles. After all, if this world was supposed to be something of pure fiction yet not. Why can't the reverse be true… Who's to say that say about the world I’m from isn't just fic-

Breath.

In.

Then out.

I paused suddenly and looked around cautiously. For a split second, I could have sworn I heard what sounded like giggling through the trees. But now, there was nothing.

Grmmm

Except the soft growl of my stomach.

I didn't bother chasing my previous line of thought anymore. I’m here, now, in this present, and that’s what should matter the most right now.

Or, as a wise friend had once wisely shared with me: “Philosophy only happens when people have too much time on their hands and not enough famine”.

The gist of it is: If I had time to ponder the existential meaning of myself and everybody I had ever known and cared about, I had time to make sure I didn't get fucked over by dangerous injuries and starvation, or just being hunted in general.

With any luck, taking a nap and not dying again might be able to fit into that itinerary somewhere too!

I wisely didn't consider the countless number of things that might stop that from happening. Got to keep positive, after all.

So with that, I got up, grunting in pain each step of the way so that miracles happen and dreams come true. Though that was easier said than done. It was only when I really start hobbling forwards towards the now dented metallic pod that I truly understood how much everything hurts like hell. My back in particular felt like it experienced a nasty rug burn followed by some boiling lemon sprayed on it.

Spotting a tree not five feet away from my position with its outer bark torn off the trunk, along with the skidding lines on the sand leading from it, I seemed to have found the answer as to the why.

…How the fuck is this body still alive.

I take a long, hard, full minute to think about it before coming to a reasonably sound conclusion:

I’m just built different.

Tehehe

I tried to whirl around in the direction I heard the laughter but hissed and nearly fell from pain in doing so.

Goddammit, I hope I didn't start hearing voices in this world too… Oh, who am I kidding, there’s like a whole genus out there whose highest purpose is to fuck with people using spooky action at a distance if I remember correctly.

Screw it, if I can deck a god made of lightning, I can smack around a few discount Caspers.

Hopefully.

Luckily, my legs were in good enough shape to run should a purifying salt punch fail. Well, with the sole exception of the random spasms that spring on my aching muscles. Probably gonna need a walking stick for that soon, huh.

At least now I know I didn’t receive some cheat that would allow my right fist to shatter the superpowers and illusions of women by slamming it into their faces. I mean, I probably still could do the latter, but unlike a certain spiky haired protagonist, I doubt I was going to be seen as some kind of savior for doing it afterward.

Screw that guy and his broken ass cheats and harem armor. I know he goes through a lot still but still.

I suppose I can take solace in knowing I don’t have to deal with the various disadvantages of his powers but still…

I just have to deal with the cards I’ve already been dealt, I guess.

I shrugged my shoulders reaching that point and the physical pod, but forgetting the state my shoulder was in, that only lead to a muffled growl escaping my throat before I repeatedly banged my head on the metallic hull before me.

Today just kept getting better and better, huh?

Thankfully, there is something here that may actually make it better: Answers.

Doing my best to ignore the spiking pain with each move I made, I managed to flip the half-dented hatch to look inside this capsule pod that person had been so desperate to get to, even at the cost of their life.

I haven’t heard a single whisper from them, I hope they hadn’t passed away before I woke up and left me with their body. That’d just leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Putting those thoughts aside for the moment, I raised an eyebrow after peering into the cockpit. It would seem my assumptions had proven at least partially correct.

Two thin booklets and a clear bag of dry rations.

Yet still, looking at this scene, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

I dug around through any small draws I could see, just to make sure, but they were all empty. All power for it to work seemed to be jankedy and more or less dead as well. Probably from that ozone huffer stealing it all, the psycho bastard.

Not going to say I was really disappointed with what I had since I had been prepared for worse. But still, I’m sure anyone couldn't help but feel dejected in this situation if they were in my position.

Firstly, there were no first aid kits; no survival tools, flare guns, weapons or communication devices, nothing like that. A single one of those would make this new-found life of mine much easier and safer, but it seems lady fortune took a rain check today, and we can't have nice things because deranged sky gods were having a pissing competition. Assholes.

No spare clothes or blankets, not even an obvious way to control this thing for that matter. All there were, were buttons and empty black glass panels!

Not that this thing would even be of much use if the controls did work, considering the shape its dented door was in. I’d sooner find more use for it as a dinghy than anything, really. Though, perhaps that idea could be feasible?

Maybe… if it weren't for the fact that I knew there are beings that could summon mountain sized waves and car sized lightning bolts with ease. And those beings didn’t even live in water.

I was willing to bet the moment I used this thing in the open waters, a Gyarados or school of Sharpedo would start trying to tear me and it to shreds within ten minutes, tops. That is, if I didn’t capsize and drown before that point.

Yeah, not the most helpful or useful of starter packs I have here so far, honestly.

Normally, I’d have sat down to read these books for any information, but first glance at one of the covers showed a script which I was familiar yet unfamiliar with. These were... Unown’s, right? A group of mythical-like Pokémon, I think?

Let's see, it's pretty much Latin script, so I should be able to read it, right?

[Segrets op spafting monster galls qol one]…

…The fuck?

Yeah, no, this isn't going to work. It’s similar to English but looking at these confusing symbols feels like I’m about to have a migraine.

Flipping through it is just full of words with an occasional image of some kinds of objects that are unfamiliar. Or if I am, they’re drawn in such a way that I’m honestly having trouble telling if I was looking at some kind of fantasy art, or actual real life materials. 

Again: The fuck.

The other one was almost a little more helpful… yet also not.

Good news was there were more pictures in this one than the other one. It seemed more like a children’s book based on how cartoonish the words looked (which was saying something since Unown script was already pretty cartoonish looking in its own right).

Bad news is: Whereas with the first one, I could at least somewhat parse the words with the symbols, this other book was entirely written in another, completely foreign script.

…Great to know cultural diversity was abundant in the Pokémon world.

Sigh.

Furthermore, whereas the script here was an innocent, bubbly font, the creatures depicted in its contents were not.

Not at all.

When someone mentioned Pokémon, one would typically imagine cute and fluffy creatures.

Maybe a Gyarados or Aerodactyl would raise a few eyebrows because of how predatory they look with their open maws, but in their game forms they were still kind of cool, if a little goofy. Creatures marketed to and for kids.

The creatures in this book held none of that romanticization.

You didn’t quite imagine that there would be a certain uncanniness to looking at a glassy set of compound eyes of Caterpie.

Nor did the full look of a bloodshot eye of a Spearow with the sharp glint of its beak, along with its feathers furiously puffed up to the max, truly make you feel like it cared about anything but unadulterated murder. It was every bit as awe-inspiring as it was fear-inducing of a sight to witness, even on paper.

Then there was the sheer, raw, irrevocable otherworldliness a spiky bodied, gaseous mass of sick purple ink a Haunter was composed of. Its razor clawed hands which made up half of its body as well as its toothless shark jagged maw echoed an irrepressible sense of fears from ancient days foregone. Such being why it was buried and forgotten in the first place.

I closed the book and took a moment to calm the hastened breath I didn’t realize until now.

Suddenly, Pokémon didn’t seem so harmless and cute now, did they?

Not that I didn’t already know that, via my recent experiences, but seeing it once and really comprehending it were two completely different matters, it seemed.

If I wasn’t already self-conscious of standing out in the open like this before, I certainly am now.

The fact that I’m out here without anything to defend myself with doesn’t help to assuage those worries.

I needed a weapon.

I needed to move.

But not to safety.

I shifted my gaze towards the treeline and the thicker forest within.

Even after seeing those images and feeling ten, if not a hundred times more cautious and frightened about all things Pokémon, it was precisely for that reason that I needed to scout out the forest to see just how much danger I’ll be in by staying near it, or if I could find other options.

Hopefully there was some form of indigenous civilization along the way as well--the kinds that didn’t distinctly murder outsiders, preferably.

And I needed to do all this quickly, because frankly speaking, the pain in my hand and shoulder was starting to become unbearable despite my best efforts to breathe slow and deep to dull and diffuse the pain.

It was getting to the point where I wasn’t sure I could even move to defend myself if anything even slightly threatening appeared.

I felt “my” lips thin into a grimace.

I could already foresee the painful and arduous weeks ahead that it’d take for me to become completely healthy again, provided I managed to survive that long. 

And that’s just taking into account the most optimal conditions like setting splinters for my hands sooner rather than later, so that I didn’t further aggravate wounds with unchecked movements or heated combat.

…Hah.

It’s times like these that I really wish I had luxuries like one of those recuperation tanks or sensu be-.

I stopped mid thought, slowly panning my vision across the forest scenery once more and deeply.

I didn’t see anything other than trees and bushes, but if this really is that world, and if I’m truly on an island that looks to support a complete ecosystem, then maybe…

I took off in a half-limp half-run, careful not to jostle my right shoulder too much, though not before tucking the rations and booklets inside my soaked wetsuit shirt and pants.

If my suspicions were correct, I may not need months, heck, I may not even need days.

Hours, if not minutes, if I can actually find them.

And when in a world where survival of the fittest rules supreme, every second being prepared and getting stronger counts. I wasn’t about to let that chance slip away as long as there was the possibility.

“If they’re actually here, then this could change everything… As well as affirm others…” I muttered.

My feet didn’t slow, if anything, their pace picked up through the fibrous roots and undergrowth.

The time for focusing on negatives was over. What mattered was attaining a true purchase on this invaluable new chance at life. And I wasn’t about to let god, man, or creepy purple gas hands deny it to me.

…Still, let’s hope I don’t run into anything hostile that may be looking for it as well, since, no. Especially if they’re injured from the devastation earlier today as well. The worst kind of predator is one that’s desperate and wouldn't hesitate to wage their life’s for the chance to see another dawn.

Men die for wealth while birds die for food, or so they say.

I really hope it won’t have to come to that, though.

Nevertheless, I picked up a decently sized stick along the way and swung it a bit to get a feel for it.

Mhm, it’s likely to be more useful as a walking stick than anything else since I can’t actually wield it with full force right now with how my arm is, but it’ll have to do.

I seriously hope the things I’m looking for exist, otherwise thing’s be fucked, with a capital F and nothing remotely holy about it.

It was with those apprehensions that I began my first true trudge into the now humid and muddy tropical forest…

---

Roughly 20 minutes.

That’s how long I estimate it took to find them.

 Now, granted, I did stop after every few feet to lightly mark the lower bark of some trees I passed by with my trusty stick. Nothing too distinct, as I had no clue if any potential predators living around here would take that as a challenge for their territory. That meant I wouldn’t really be able to see the marks without taking my time, but it couldn’t be helped. Time was something I sorely lacked.

Another thing that caused me to slow me down was my precaution, which eventually developed into a bit of fascination.

See, I knew that should I encounter a predator, my chances of survival would become slim to none if I wasn’t prepared at all times to bolt at the slightest unusual sounds or blurs. Because of that, I paid a lot of attention to the treetops and shrubbery in both my front and peripheral view; always making sure to stop behind a tree to see if anything was stalking me and to make sure my escape path was secure if not.

But that wasn’t what fascinated me.

Rather, it was just the ambience of my surroundings. It was very quiet, to the point where I could hear my own breath clearly without even paying attention to it. Some would find that unnerving, but it was a stark contrast to the ever present background noise of modern society.

If it wasn’t for the occasional cacophonies of bird calls in the distance, I might have assumed I entered the bounded field of some blue haired homicidal mage; the kekkai of a certain purple transvestite slitherer; or even the closed space of a certain bored and oblivious high school god.

I was getting off track again but the point was this: This forest was pleasant to walk around through, if not physically, then mentally for the spirit.

I couldn’t go out often after a certain point in my condition’s progression, and even when I did, the hospital’s trees and flowers lacked a sort of untamed beauty like the flora here do.

There, everything was controlled and manicured.

But here?

The moss that grew on and around trees in various colors ranging from red, blue, purple, and white; the hairy vines which hung like weaved mats after crisscrossing abundantly along the trunks and branches of amber tinged trees. An endless variety of eccentric flora coupled with small, quiet insect fauna held a certain metrical rhythm which refused to be pushed aside.

Those diamond shaped-mushrooms blossoming under the murky shade entranced me. Adult-sized flowers covered in multicolored abstract-shell shaped snails mesmerized my imagination of their individual and community workings to no end. The innumerable clear-bodied vein-glowing violet worms which tossed up the top layer of the still moist soil which was suffused with an old, earthly tang to it took my breath away without return.

Every single part of it mattered.

It was beautiful.

Now, I’m sure I’ve kept you all waiting long enough with my beautifully crafted, picturesque descriptions which very nearly (but totally didn’t) brought tears to my eyes, but it couldn’t be helped! Someone has to up the word count here, okay!?

Anyway, back to the present.

I could hardly stop the grin forming on my lips as the thing-. No, holy object which I long since suspected existed was actually here.

If that other person of this body didn’t take one of those suspiciously shaped mushrooms to eat, and I wasn’t just a hallucination they conjured up, then this is really happening…!

I couldn’t help it. I started singing.

“O is for ‘Oh shit, I really fucked up’, R is for ‘Release me of misery~’. A is for ‘Always pray to helix’ N’ cleans all enemies~ Haha!”

That’s right boys and gals and everything in-between pals. The item I’ve been searching for endlessly (for the past 20 minutes). The cheat to break all cheats (ideally speaking).

You are reading story Changing the World at novel35.com

The one, the only…!

Oran Berries.

I’m sorry, I didn’t think you understood how passionate I was there. Let me repeat that again, so that there are no misunderstandings.

Mother. Fucking. Oran. Berries.

AHHHH!!!

You’d think, going by my reaction, that I was acting as though I found the modern day equivalent of El Dorado (and you’d be fucking right). Nevertheless, I was willing to admit the sight presented before me wasn’t really the picture of ideal like I had hoped.

The tree which held my precious blue babies was snapped in half like a common twig while most of the berries were squashed/charred--likely as a result of the previous battle with one of those two overgrown pest’s and their residual attack hitting this area as an aftereffect.

How I knew it was caused by an aftereffect is because it was a direct hit, even the dust would have been reduced to atoms in the wind by now, as begrudging as I am to admit it.

The fact of the matter was that I actually did manage to come across similar looking sprout trees, only one in an even worse state than this one.

That didn’t quell my rage towards the two cloud vermin, though.

Not in the slightest.

The thought of how likely I would have come across a beautiful field of ripe cyan berries if not the reality of the charred soot and ash blanketing hell and back.

Huh? Strange, why am I starting to see red in my vision?

Let’s forget about those two oxygen deprived bottom feeders… for now

This tree, while still in a sorry state, is still harvestable, it would seem.

There were only about four berries left from what I could see. Two of which were nearly paste mixed into the dirt while another looked to be still unripe but blemished, going by the bright greenish texture which was further ruined by the ugly splotches of purple on half of its side.

Stupid damn wind bird, dumb fucking lightning snake. I’ll settle the fucking scores with you nitrogen huffers someday.

Not land lion bro though. Land lion bro is a hero.

I chuckled, feeling somewhat better, before crouching down to pick the one and only ripe berry left, which happened to be about the size of an orange.

Unfortunately, I wouldn't be eating this one here today, at least not wholly.

I looked at my right hand, then back at my left that held the mandarin sized marine blue porous fruit. Letting out a sigh of deep reluctance, I moved my left over to my right and gently squeezed until sap-like fluids dripped onto the broken layer of flesh.

“!!!!”

The effect was near instantaneous.

Immediately, the irritant pain rising from it stopped, instead being replaced by a coolish, burning sensation not unlike that of mint or mouth wash.

It lasted for about thirty seconds, but instead of disappearing, it was instead replaced with a crawling itchiness which I desperately had to resist succumbing to scratching.

Ahh. This is just as bad as having a rash you want to itch but can’t.

When it finally went away, the itchy sensation was still there, albeit slightly more subdued and bearable.

Taking a closer look at my hand though, I could see that while not totally healed in terms of epidermal damage, the bleeding had stopped while a glazed layer of pinkish film now covered the wound.

While a bit less complete than I had originally been hoping for, I think it's safe to say I at least don’t have to worry about infections or the scraping pain from it anymore.

I grinned.

“Ku…kukuku…Kuhahaha!!!-”

I quickly shut my mouth before I could continue further. Definitely not because I thought I just sounded like a villain whose flag was about to be tripped, but rather, because it wouldn’t do to draw predators over here with my very normal and totally not unhinged maniacal laughter.

Yep.

Moving past that, shall I say it?

DareI say it…?

…I’m going to say it.

ORAN. BERRIES. OP. AF.

No, seriously, I could think of at least five ways to utilize its effects based on what I’d just seen now and how it currently feels. Who came up with the idea to say this only healed like 10 hp?

The uninitiated to the House of Oran, that’s who.

Now if only…

Looking at the other puréed remains, I felt my heart ache.

Stupid wind bird, dumb thunder snake, how dare you blasphemy this holy item gifted by Lord Helix and the second coming of his holy feather prophet.

I reaffirmed my vow to pound both of the aerial vermin in their two stupid dumb stupid faces like a sous-chef on frozen meat, consequences be damned.

As long as I have Oran berries, I ain’t gonna be scared of anything.

…Probably.

After swearing to make Bloody Sunday look like a kid’s church choir being criticized live on AGT, I finally gave my full attention to my still dangling arm; fingers swollen purple and throbbing with sharp pain and all.

“Sigh”.

And sighed again.

This time, not really out of loathing for the two flying dumb-dumbs (okay maybe I still held quite a bit of them resentment towards a certain over glorified electric outlet), but more so because of what I’ll have to do next, despite trying to put it off with joking and revenge vows and the like.

I eyed a decently sized tree a few feet away and felt my throat clench as my back started to sweat with cold perspiration.

What I’m about to do is reckless, potentially futile and, as I may be legally obliged to add by my hopefully always non-existent lawyers, not something you should try at home.

I had to do it regardless, though.

I take a few deep breaths and try to calm my pounding heart and close my eyes shut tight.

I tried to think of happy things. Delicious foods, breathtaking sceneries, Hunter x Hunter and One Piece finishing sometime within the average human lifespan, and opened my eyes.

I grit my teeth and before my heartbeat started to rise uncontrollably again, I stared ahead at the brownish bark with mad determination while placing the remains of the Oran berry I held left into my mouth. It’s sourly taste melding into a curious, somewhat chalky, vaguely spicy, and slightly sweet and sour tart flavor.

To be honest, it was akin to salted, pickled grapefruit that had been rinsed with hot mouthwash.

“It will be okay”, I whispered a rasp to myself. “Oran will be our savior”.

I took one step back, then one forward. The next, I growled and by the third I broke into a sprint with poor form. Some seconds later saw me hurtling my body with as much speed as I could muster from my spastic, weary body towards the tree I had chosen. My right shoulder aimed for its dead mass center as I leaped off the ground.

The moment right before impact I immediately regret it all and cursed whatever gods and deities hid in this and my own world, but knew it was too late no matter what false Eevee prophets I may have tried to pray to.

With a hard smack and a spine-chilling “CRUNCH”, I ricocheted off the side of the tree and immediately swallowed my Oran berry as my head hit the ground…

Which I then proceeded to scream into.

“AAAAAAAGFFGGGFAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

Banging my head on the floor actually did help somewhat distract from the pain of having my joint forcefully set back into place, while the tangy dry bittersweet heat traveling down my throat allowed me to understand I was indeed alive and not experiencing a very long, very painful dream.

The feeling spread from my gut area and back up all through my body, right into the muscles of my shoulder as crimson fire molded into purifying flames into my bones.

When it slowly faded, I just laid there for a good few minutes, collecting my breath in shivers before turning over to look at the sky. Moving my shoulder a bit, I could feel that other than a bit of tenseness in the muscles, I felt pretty fine there.

I wanted to laugh again but promptly failed when I felt a needle sharp pain spring from this body's right hand, whose mangled fingers I stared at with impassive vehemence.

…So it turns out smacking yourself in the shoulder while your actual hand is nearly broken isn’t such a good idea.

Huh, who would have guessed.

I look across the ground to the two remaining indigo puddles while ignoring the intensifying throbs crawling up my wrists. I still had two more berries I could kind of use. Both of which were partially mixed into dirt and would probably have a delayed and/or decreased effect because of it.

I cursed the anti-helix blasphemers.

“Hahhhhhhhh”

I extra long this time, truly feeling my spirit leaving to join the free blue sky as I looked up through the shadowy enclosure of the green canopy.

“Fuck Thundurus”. I spat out once before carefully getting up–being extra careful not to add any more unnecessary stimuli to my right hand–and went to collect the berry remains I’d need so that I wouldn’t pass out just from setting each finger back in its joint.

One. By. One.

My hand moved over to the “easiest” one, which of course meant the pinky finger. As it was painfully being wrapped around, I cursed once more:

Fuck Thundurus.

SNAP

---

I lightly gripped and uncurled the fingers to my right hand, still feeling a vague sort of ache but other than that, quite fine.

When I looked at the still stained but now Oran berry-less ground, I struggled to suppress my nth sigh today.

It's barely been a full hour since I “woke up” and were it not for the miraculous healing properties of OPran’s, I’d have been left out in the wilderness, forced to spend weeks just to recover while fending for myself from natural dangers, all while being careful not to further exacerbate my still healing injuries.

Oh, and helpless to plan my revenge on that dirty thunder slug. Vengeance is my name.

Not really, but it’s kind of like my middle name, so close enough.

Anyway, now that I’m all healed up, things were finally starting to shine bright. I couldn't wait to start my new Pokémon adventure!

Near immediately after thinking that, I dove into a barrel roll towards the stick I had let go of when I was pounding my head in pain before.

Bang

I felt my back vibrate as the sound of something smacking the tree I was just resting against echoed throughout.

I was at an impasse on whether to laugh or cry. It’s standard for these types of narratives, after all. As soon as you think or say something like “Once I get through this…!” or “Nothing can stop me now!”, fate will be a jealous bitch and throw something your way just to take the piss out of you.

No hoy.

“¡Sorpresa, pinchemadre!”

I don’t even bother taking a good glance at whatever it was that just tried to attack me. Using the element of surprise and chaotic impulse (mostly the latter), I yelled as I whacked the thing with my trusty stick. Greatly cherishing the regained strength in my arm all the while.

“Khsssss!!!”

I heard a hiss and only caught the blur as whatever it was I sent flying into a bush 7 feet away.

I’d have taken much more time to appreciate my handiwork if not for the foreboding feeling I was getting. Like the air was going “GOGOGOGO”.

Umm, let’s see. What happens in developments like this when you utterly T-pose on fate’s mechanisms? Immediate retaliation? Creates an insurmountable challenge in response? Cookies?

“HSSSSS”

“KHANNSS” 

“BOHHHH”!

The answer is she becomes even more of a pissy demanding B-otch and does all of the above, bar the cookies, unfortunately.

Literally coming out of the woodwork, a posse of 7 or so serpentine figures trail down from the trees around me as the Ekans that attacked me joined them with a rather nasty bruise over its left eye (which it 100% deserves).

Where these near human-sized, purple snakes came from when I literally saw no other creatures, or how long they’ve been watching me and silently preparing this ambush, is anyone’s guess.

The one I hit in particular is hissing with its jaw opened so widely, you’d think it’d be trying to swallow me whole, which, probably not too far off from what it’s saying in… Ekanese?

Hey, you started it dude… dudette? God, there are so many fucking vagues about this situation and everything surrounding it in general.

Disregarding my internal quorum on how Pokémon communicate to each other and whether any of them would ever identify as attack helicopters if circumstance permitted it, the posse collectively hissed and stared wide-eyed at me… To which I responded by immediately focusing on everything over than their pupils. Even if I had known pretty much nothing about Pokémon, it doesn’t take a team rocket scientist to know you shouldn’t really stare into the eyes of snakes, or any large number of foes for that matter.

Even so, I felt my joints start to tense up as my internal will to fight seemed to start to diminish.

The fuck, I thought snakes were solitary predators. Gen one isn’t even supposed to have horde battles, dammit! None of them are even shiny! What kind of Arceus-forsaken RNG was this?!

I could already hear the electronic battle music starting up in my head, which would be a bop if I wasn’t about to be OHKO’d.

This wouldn’t do. I can’t let myself get caught up in their tempo.

Right when one of the non-bruised ones (which, surprise surprise, were the majority) hissed and coiled its body along with the others to attack, I made my move first by throwing up my open palm in front of me while still holding onto my stick with the other.

“H-HOLD IT! TIMEEE OUTTTT!!!” I yelled while making a T-with my hands.

Surprisingly, they all actually stopped. Seemingly stunned by my sudden actions and waiting to hear what I had to say. That or they were wondering what kind of attack I was about to try to make.

Regardless, wow, I can’t believe that actually worked.

I struck while the iron was hot.

“So I know we’re doing the whole death match thing where the winner takes all and the loser, well, falls…” 

The one who had initially hissed bobbed its head with like an enlightened sage as it waited for me to continue. Or maybe that was just a species trait of theirs.

Let’s just assume they understand. “-but I just want to ask one very important thing… It’s something that must be asked before a serious fight from the homeland I hail from. That is, unless you guys are cool with just letting bygones be bygones instead of one of is getting hurt-”

All the Ekans hissed in unison, bar who I assumed to be their leader when I reached that point. It's worth noting that the one I initially struck after failing its sneak attack put extra emphasis on its ‘Khans’, obviously intent on continuing where we left off. It was then that I knew I had my work cut out for me.

Let it be known that I tried. I really did.

“Right…” I continued. It did appear that they would at least wait for me to finish my actual question. Huh, how surprisingly cordial of them. I would almost be impressed if they weren’t currently out for blood right now.

Regardless of my internal thoughts, though, I continued.

“So what I really wanted to ask was this…” Suddenly, I swing my stick wide to bang it four times against two tree trunks next to me as they recoil in shock before I finished by slamming the stick into a muddy section on the ground.

“DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN?!?!”

There was a long silence following my abrupt question. 

So long, in fact, that I thought they might burst out into laughter and perhaps let me off like a certain mental psychic gym leader.

As fate would have it though (and we all know how she is), they did not, in fact, wish to build a snowman with me.

There was no warning as the leader suddenly lunged at me, screeching bloody murder with mouth wide open and fangs extended. The others began to spring in pursuit.

“ABANDONED CHILD USES MUD SHOT-STICK ATTACK!”

I screamed back and swung my stick up towards the one who calls the shots–using my previously mud stuck stick to sling wide towards the posse before wood met flesh in a holy matrimony of melodic mashing and screeching symphony.

Praise Helix.

“IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE A SNOW MANNN!” I brought my stick back down to a smart one (who no surprise was the one I swatted first) that was clever enough to attack low instead of grouping up in the air for easy pickings like its now blinded/smacked brethren were.

Unfortunately for it, I was already expecting as much and made sure to punish it for it by intentionally targeting the same eye when I brought my stick down onto it.

The loud pop it gave off almost made me wonder if I broke something but a quick glance at the palpable madness both its eyes were flooded with helped assuage those worries. Nothing good ol’ Oran can’t fix, I’m sure.

Serves you right too, you dirty little ankle-biting twat.

I didn’t pass up the opportunity to advantage of its sluggishness as I continued the stick’s descent down into the mud again right beneath it and quickly flick the Ekans while treating it as such.

Its friends that were blinking and getting up just after cleaning out their eyes were soon met with the sight of a hurtling Ekans… Just for them to immediately close them again and drop their head to the floor once they registered what was happening, content with letting their companion crash into a tree, much like the first two encounters I had with it.

Honorless scum. Looks like all snakes around here are assholes.

And what the heck, I thought Mud Shot was near 100% accurate and super effective against their type. It didn’t even take 5 seconds for them to be up and ready again, and that’s only because they were surprised the first time, from what I could tell.

They barely looked little more than annoyed, let alone getting debuffed in their speed! What kind of shitty mechanics is this world operating on!?

Thankfully enough, even with how close to the floor they were, my Anti-Ekans Ekans projectile was at least partially effective in nicking a few of the slower ones back off balance. The one to note in particular being the leader that had just slithered back after getting tossed back like a shot put, only to be by its comrade knocking its snout.

Still, I wasn’t liking how quickly they were adapting while ganging up on me. Not to mention the trees around would make it hard to use my stick freely while they were in fact in their element, being able to hide in the shadows or crawl up into the treetops.

All these thoughts were happenings lightning quick despite the exchange happening in less than a minute as I barely had time to organize my breath and thoughts.

Deciding to cut my losses short, I swung once more to repel a quick one that managed to creep through all my counterattacks and threw it at the rest.

Even if using the tactic as a distraction was something they were quickly managing to adapt to, it was still able to get me a few precious seconds to state my ultimatum.

“OKAY BYE…”

So that I could run.

Not even half a day has passed since I came to this world and I'm already resorting to the Joestar family’s secret technique. Forgive me if I’m being uncouth but-

I hopped and swung my snake beating stick on the way down at the overeager vermin I narrowly dodged before continuing my mad dash and thoughts.

As I was saying: Fuck Thundurus.

He isn’t here, nor necessarily responsible for what’s happening now, but it just feels good to blame him, so I will.

Fuck Thundurus.

And fuck Tornadus too, cause why not.

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