Years Lost

Oh look, something NOT written in my crack!verse. Shit.

In his travels, Silver had heard tell, time and again, of a hermit who lived atop Mt. Silver, hidden in the cave there. Supposedly they were a past champion, someone who had won the Indigo League and then lost their will to journey, as they felt there were no worthy challengers left.

Ethan and Lyra... they had proved themselves by bringing down Team Rocket, by saving the world, and by restoring order to the legends that walked the earth.

What did he have to show for any of it? For the times he begrudgingly helped them, whether they knew it or not?

They'd defeated him, time after time, and the organization they'd taken down... had been the last link to the father who'd abandoned him.

All he had was a Feraligatr who he'd actually grown to care about, and occasional fits of guilt at the thought his only friend was someone he literally stole.

He was just a crook, like the father who'd abandoned him so many years ago.

Maybe, maybe he could prove himself to be someone by finding that trainer, and defeating them. By proving himself a challenge to someone.

It was with that in mind that he'd found himself halfway up the mountain he was named for, pushing his way through a snowstorm even though it was late May. He had no fire pokemon to assist him or keep him warm, instead toughing through it on his own at times, and at others, letting his Alakazam Reflect a portion of the storm away.

If he'd listened to the entire story, he'd have known what was coming. Part of why the trainer remained undefeated was how rarely anyone even made it to them. The mountain itself claimed many of their challengers before they even reached the cave near the peak – some of them for good. Still Silver pushed on, unaware of the danger until he'd already fallen into a drift and left consciousness behind.

He awoke some time later, certain that either his ordeal or the cave he was now in had to be a dream, but unsure of which one.

“You're lucky your pokemon care so much about you,” a voice called to him, and he spun around in search of its source, immediately regretting the motion when a splitting pain shot through his head and fingers.

The girl sighed, sitting down beside him and gently lowering him back to the cot he was on, despite weak protests from him. “You're really dehydrated, and you've got a bit of frostbite, too,” she explained, pouring a cup of water from a thermos. He tried to look at his fingers to check what she was saying, but the flickering campfire that kept the cave lit made it hard to see that well. “Drink this,” she ordered gently, handing him the water and sliding a pack behind his back when he sat back up to drink it.

“How did I get here?” he wheezed once he'd finished drinking, his voice still rough from the cold.

“Your Weavile found me and lead me back to you,” she explained, motioning to the black-furred pokemon who was curled up nearby. “It was a good idea to bring an ice type with you up here, especially one so dedicated to you.”

He nodded, too drowsy to ask her what she meant, drifting back asleep, still sitting up against the pack, the cup tumbling from his hand.

By the time he woke again, the storm had stopped and the fire had been allowed to die down to a small flicker in the center of the pit. He realized that there was a tarp pinned into the wall above the door, pulled off to the side now. His Weavile was asleep nearby, though he suspected it was “again”, not “still”, and there was a thermos of water waiting just within his reach.

The girl was nowhere to be found, and he only knew she existed because the thermos was definitely not his. He tried to stand but found he still was stiff and lacking in the energy to move very far, though at least his headache was gone now.

He surveyed the room slowly, able to see better from the natural light flowing through the door than he had been with the fire the night before. A Snorlax slumbered in the corner opposite him, and his own things were sitting beside him, but otherwise the cave seemed empty.

This is what he had to show for trying to prove himself – he was tired and probably injured in a cave somewhere on Mt Silver, likely miles still from the challenge he'd set out to find. Pathetic.

He drank some water and tried to eat a granola bar from his backpack, though his body seemed less than thrilled with the idea of trying to eat, so he set the bar down after eating just half, laying back down and drifting off without a further thought as to where his host had gone, or what a girl was doing up here to begin with.

There was still light outside when he woke up again, but now she'd returned, and for the first time he noticed a Pikachu perched on her shoulder. The rodent pokemon stared over at him as he woke up, then pulled his paws up to clean his face, before hopping from her shoulder and scurrying over to sniff at their guest.

Hesitantly, Silver reached out his hand toward the Pikachu, who sniffed at and then nuzzled the offered palm. He was quietly stroking his chin when the girl arrived behind her pokemon, smiling softly.

“Are you feeling better then?” Her voice seemed distant as she reached for Pikachu, scratching behind his ear, bringing what was almost a purr from the little guy as he enjoyed having two people dote upon him.

“I think so. I feel a bit tired still,” he admitted, looking up at her.

She couldn't have been more than two years older than him, so why did she look so wistful? Why did her eyes seem to have no end, from the first glance he gave them?

“You should eat. You're tired because you're getting malnourished.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“That's the first sign something is wrong,” she warned, standing back up. “Let me make you some soup, it'll be nice and light on your stomach.”

He watched as she poked at the fire, adding more logs and setting a pot atop it to boil. “What's your name?” he asked finally, not actually wanting to make conversation with a stranger but feeling he owed her that much for saving his life.

“I'm Leaf,” she said without looking up.

“Silver,” he responded.

“Well, Silver, make yourself comfortable.” She stood back up, dusting her hands off and letting her eyes drift back toward the door. “There's another storm coming, so you're going to be here for a while.”

She'd closed the tarp down to the wall before the storm hit, leaving the two of them closed in, alone aside from any pokemon they chose to let out, listening to the storm rage outside. Silver spent the night drifting in and out of sleep, being forced to eat another small cup of soup each time he was awake. Gradually he felt his strength return, until by what he guessed was mid-morning the next day – the storm made time impossible to tell beyond “daylight” and “not” – he stopped feeling tired and got up to wander around the cave, his knees still stiff but the rest of him feeling alright.

“What brought you to the mountain, anyway?” she pondered aloud, though she was sure she knew the answer already.

“Supposedly the last Champion lives up here somewhere. I plan to find him and defeat him, to prove my strength as a trainer.”

Pikachu looked at Leaf and twitched his ear. She merely sighed and stroked his head, that same quiet smile spreading across her face again.

“Prove to who, I wonder?” she asked.

He pretended not to hear her, because he didn't have an answer.