Two days.

That’s how long the rain lasted for Kenji. There were brief periods of light, were sky grew brighter, as though the sun was trying to pierce the dark clouds and burn away the storm. The endless rain fell lightly during these small moments but never fully stopped. The wind blew in great bursts, shoving around the clouds above while the trees swayed until he feared they would fall. Then all of a sudden lightning flickered across the sky, drowning out the world as it screamed, and the storm would return in force.

To Kenji, it was almost as if the storm was raging against itself. Refusing to die yet unable to go on.

While he waited for the storm to pass, Kenji continued to work in his shelter. Most of it was spent crafting his new stone knifes so that he could use them without cutting himself. He had to destroy some of his leather apron to do so but he considered the trade worthwhile. The leather still covered his arms and chest with his stomach now exposed.

In between making knifes, he warily tested the foraged berries. Most of them were fine, with only a two raising his skin when he rubbed the juice on his arm. When he saw his forearm turn red and pebbled, he immediately threw the entire crate of berries outside. Throwing the berries past the trees helped break the boredom he was suffering cramped inside the small cave.

He especially enjoyed the sound of the fruits splattering against the wood trunks.

While Flutter was confined inside, refusing to let so much as a drop of water touch the delicate wings, Kenji managed to lure Sprout outside for a brief time. The clouds had thinned enough for the forest to lighten, while the rain was more of a heavy mist soaking the trees. There was no lightning or thunder to scare the small beast who, still fearful of the loud booms, was now somewhat accustomed to the barrage of sound.

When Sprout discovered the scant light and wet soil, he turned ecstatic. The beast came alive as he played in the ground and splattered himself with mud. He rolled around it, coating his shell and scales with the loamy earth before settling down into an easily dug hole.

Kenji had to race to the river to clean himself of the dirt he was covered in from playing with the young Pokémon. The water had swelled to nearly double in size, reaching far beyond the rocky shore he remembered. To be safe, he kept from wading in and cleaned himself by cupping his hands to pour water over his muddy limbs.

By the time he returned, the thunder began again and the two of them retreated to the small cave. With little else to do, Kenji started on another project he was looking forward to.

A blanket.

Or at the very least a canvas. He had access to plenty of silk from the remaining cocoons to however much Flutter could make. Here, the butterfly proved surprisingly capable as the beast assisted with threading the silk around the carved wood branches he was using to weave. If it were not for the time spent with his mother, repairing clothes and spinning Cottonee thread, then Kenji would have been at loss for what to do.

At first, Flutter's silk was too sticky and he had to rush outside to hurriedly pluck leaves from the shaking trees. While wet, they still helped keep the threads from turning into a tangled clump.

Yet as Kenji worked with the butterfly, the beast seemed to find the process a form of training. While the thread remained tacky, a layer of leaves was enough to keep it from sticking to him or anything else. Where the Pokémon excelled was its improved control in directing the thread to move and controlling how tightly it clung.

By the time the storm finally passed, Kenji felt changed. He was better prepared for the struggles of survival that were sure to come. With a knife and flint, he could easily start a fire wherever he went, though he was sure to always have embers burning in his original pit.

Not only was it easier to prod embers to a blaze than start a whole new flame, Kenji found himself strangely reluctant to let the fire go. Almost as if it were a new companion, one he would fail by allowing to disappear.

That was not the only reason he was so unwilling to part from the warm light, however. There was another, an apprehension of what was to come should he stray too far. He ignored it for as long as he could, reasoning that confronting it in the night of the storm would give it too much power. Now, with the day growing lighter as the sun burned away the last of the storm, he knew he could put it off no longer.

Well, not too much longer.

There were preparations he could take, rituals that might give him a greater chance. For the rest of the day, he would settle his mind and let the two Pokémon free themselves from the shelter they were trapped him.

Sprout was the first out of the shelter, having emerged before the rain stopped and long after the last of the thunder. He played merrily in the thick soil and Kenji helped him dig for the richer earth beneath. His hands were caked in dirt by the time he was done.

Only afterwards did he realize that he could have simply carved a small spade instead of digging with his hands. Still, he did not mind and left the young turtle beast to bask in the growing sunlight while he cleaned himself off.

The river had calmed from its previous raging swell but was still higher than he remembered. More comfortable with the calmed water, he hung his clothes on a nearby branch before diving into the cold waters. The current was stronger than he expected and he quickly surfaced before turning back to shore.

He struggled against the river's strength until he was able to claw at the rocks. When he reached the shallows, Kenji turned around so that he was facing the sky.

With one arm holding onto a rock he luxuriated in the flowing water while the rain softly fell.

Idly, Kenji imagined a small alcove formed by the river stones that he could use as a small pool to submerge himself in. The rocks would keep him from being pulled away by the current while still allowing enough water to flow to keep it from becoming stagnant. He could even carve a ledge or a frame to sit on.

Part of him was worried at how easy it was for him to imagine doing this, working for days to create a rocky outlet simply for him to bathe in. The other part was happy to be able to imagine any future at all, even if it was one where he was stuck here forever.

However, the thoughts could not distract him for long and Kenji allowed himself to fall under the surface. The sound of the forest faded away, muffled by the water and drowned out by the sound of the flowing river. With his eyes shut, it was dark and cold. An emptiness threatening to pull him away.

But not for long.

With a kick of his legs, he pushed off the riverbed and surged towards the surface. He found two companions to keep him company. He created fire to stay warm and light the night. The shelter was a reprieve, a place to keep out of the storm. It was not home and he would not let it be.

When he broke through the surface, Kenji shook the water off and wipe it from his eyes. He stared at the sun through the cover of the clouds.

"I will go home." he promised.

He waded for a moment longer, carving his promise into his mind as he remembered this moment. Even if everyone he loved or knew was dead and his home was nothing but ashes, he would return.

The rain had stopped by the time Kenji emerged from the river. His clothes were damp so he merely pulled on his underclothes, carrying his tunic and pants back to the shelter. When he arrived, Flutter was nowhere to be seen and Sprout was still basking under the growing sun.

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He was slightly worried, the butterfly was impatient and irritated by its forced confinement in the stone and mud walls. The beast was able to eat the berries by piercing the fruit with is needle mouth and draining the juice but he could tell that it far preferred flower nectar. Hopefully it would not do anything rash, or at the very least not bring what beast it angered to the shelter.

Kenji hung his clothes from a branch that reached down from the tree growing upon the boulder he stayed in. Despite the days long storm, the tree was looking strong and only a free small branches were torn free. He cleared up the ones blown into area around his temporary home and stacked the wood around the boulder. After the storm, everything was too wet for him to burn, leaving him with what he had until the sticks dried out.

To keep from wearing himself out, Kenji did little beyond setting stones down for a larger firepit. He needed to be strong and ready for tomorrow. Circling the camp, he muttered to himself as he struggled to remember the stories, tales, and warnings told about ghosts. Most of them were simply ones his parents and friends told at night in an effort to scare each other.

Kenji's throat closed briefly, choking him off as he remembered those he left behind. Satou and Mori were destined to become Warriors of their own, their fathers serving under his. He did not have many friends, his father's status and his mother's foreignness too off putting for other families. But the few he did have were steadfast, ones he was sure would weather time and battle.

If they survived that was.

Heaving in an effort to control his emotions, Kenji propped himself up on a nearby tree. The bark was rough against his bare skin but he did not mind. He welcomed the discomfort as a distraction from the tortuous thoughts.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the world around him. The wind blowing through the trees, remnants of the past storm. The bark was damp and uncomfortable, nothing compared to the pain of his memories.

To further distract himself, he remember the tales spoken by the village elders. The legends were a history passed down from elder to elder, a tradition to preserve their past. To serve as reminders for the future. It was where most drew inspiration for their own ghost stories. That and the few war stories Kenji and his friends heard their fathers speak about.

In the elder's telling, it was the purity of the land and the strength of their ancestors that kept Greenleaf free of spirits. Only on the battlefields between kingdoms did they have to worry about the dead clinging to life. While some could stay on as protectors, bound by oaths that persevered through death itself, most ghosts were not nearly so pure in their purpose. Vengeful spirits, they sought to inflict the pain and death they suffered onto others. Whether it was an attempt to find solace or to merely spread misery, Kenji did not know.

The elders claimed that one kingdom was even debased enough to use such restless spirits for their own gain. That great Type Beasts could rise from harnessing the ghosts, though it was never clear how they did so. Ordinarily, Kenji would dismiss the story as that, fictions told to scare them. The only issue was the reactions of those around him.

When such legends were spoken of, the Warriors grew silent. A few even went so far as to ward themselves with their hands, flicking their fingers over their chest in the sign of the Alpha. Even his father tensed slightly, clenching his swords as if to draw them.

For Warriors to grow so apprehensive, there must be some truth to the legends. If there was, then perhaps there was truth to the rest of it. Cleansing tags hung and sigils carved on nights when the moon faded from sight. Salt across the doors and prayers offered in the twilight.

The darkness was absolute and even the few grass beasts that favored the night hunkered down. Nothing ever happened at his home but his friends mentioned strange noises outside that their Warrior fathers refused to investigate.

The tags were often made by the elders or purchased from the few that spent days making the intricate designs. He could carve a few of the sigils himself but the cleansing tags were beyond him.

Not only were they crafted from washi specially treated to help the already tough paper stronger against the energies it warded against, but the actual tracing of lines on the tag was an Art in and of itself. Even if he had the proper ink and brush, his attempt at writing out the delicate words was more likely to earn the ire of the spirit than encourage it away. To soil the words of The Original One was to earn the fury of the Guardians themselves.

There was another issue, one he was despairingly loathe to think about.

His aura.

What truly made the symbols work, if they did indeed work, was the Energy his father supplied to the symbols. There was just a touch of power sealed in, yet it was far more than he could achieve in his current state.

Perhaps he did not need the Energy, Kenji hoped. Afterall, plenty of families without Warriors used the same tags.

Returning to the center of his camp, Kenji kneeled and bowed his head. He clapped twice, softly so as to not disturbed Sprout, by moving his right hand away from left. Holding his palms together, he offered a short prayer to whatever local guardian may be watching. His hand, twisted by the healed scar twinged slightly.

Ignoring the flinch of pain, he shifted positions.

His legs were laid over one another while his fingers dug through the soil for nourishment. His father always sought the swaying stillness of their garden when he cultivated. He claimed that the soft swish of the wind as it rubbed the plants against each other was their desire to grow strong and tall. The tangling green was fighting for claim to the sun.

For Kenji, the soil was enough. It was where all plants derived their life, so why could it not be the same for him? Even on the hardest of stones, one could find a plant clinging to life as it struggled to live on the barest of dirt.

Holding the land, Kenji searched for the strength to endure what was to come. He did not know how the spirit would test him, considering he has never had to drive off one before. For now, all he could do was prepare.

Digging his fingers through the soil, Kenji lost himself in meditation. There, his worries were nothing but disquiet rumblings threatening to break his concentration. Hunger, a constant fear even with his bounty of fruit, was smoothed away. The terror of crossing the path of a rampaging beast or angering one into a fury as he traveled the forest.

What will happen, will happen.

Breathing deep, he focused on the world around. He felt the damp soil clinging to his fingers. The wind caressed his skin, even as it threatened a gale. Wood creaked and whispered around him, telling a story just beyond his understanding.

Threaded through it all was a power he would always seek to understand. It was in the cutting air, as the wind roared through the sky. The shifting earth, slow to rouse but devasting when awoken. Even the growth of nature could be destructive as it tore apart the world around it, all in effort to grow.

Opening himself up, Kenji sought the green Energy around him. His body was a garden bed and his aura the seed laying within.

Energy fed the Spirit, enriching the Body and giving birth to Aura.

While he could not control the power, he could soak it in as a leaf did the sun. The seed that was his spirit would feed, strengthening itself. The Energy, passing through the barren ground that was his body would slowly transform him. Enriching him until his body was a dark, loamy earth fit for a Legend.

Kenji was not sure how long he stayed like that before he felt something nudge his hand. Cracking open an eye, he saw Sprout laying down next to him. The beast was using its hard beak to prod at his fingers. Obliging the Pokémon, Kenji felt a smile tug on his lips.

When he first encountered the young beast, it was full of terror at the world it found itself alone in. Even when Kenji fed and cared for him, the turtle would shy away or curl up into his shell. Now, the beast was approaching him simply to feel his hand on his shell.

That, or Sprout was attracted to Kenji cultivating. Not entirely improbable but the beast had yet to display any indication of the innate Energy that Pokémon possessed.

Only the youngest or weakest of beasts were completely bare of the Type Energy that empowered them. He could only hope that his companion was of the former category, though his size did not suggest it.

Of course, the damage Kenji suffered to his spirit rendered him unable to sense Energy of any Type.

Sighing, Kenji gave up on resuming his meditation.

The day was already growing short and he was going to need a full night of rest. Looking around, he was surprised to see Flutter resting on a rock nearby. After being trapped inside the shelter, the beast seemed almost loathe to stay at camp. Instead, the butterfly preferred to fly away for most of the day, returning only to rest and recuperate.

Staring at the Pokémon, he noted a few more scratches on its carapace body than he remembered. The delicate wings likewise appeared frayed and worn. Shaking his head, Kenji decided to ignore the matter away for now. If the butterfly wished to test itself, then he was not one to speak.

Kenji only hoped that the bug would be careful.

He stood up and passed through the mud walls that enclosed the boulder sheltering him. He grabbed several berries and savored the few berries he allowed himself to eat. Already his supply was running low, especially after discarding so many that he deemed inedible.

With the stone flakes, he found peeling the fruits a far cleaner task than simply pulling it apart with his fingers. He fed the peel and seeds to Sprout who swallowed them easily with a chirp of pleasure.

Smiling back at the Pokémon, Kenji called for Flutter who tiredly flapped its way inside before crawling up on the wall. Absently, Kenji noted that he should put together a perch for beast to use instead of the smoother stone.

With the embers in the firepit warming the shelter, Kenji pulled his leaf covered silk blanket over himself. With the leather gear to lay his head on, he could almost imagine himself at home instead of being lost and alone.