My Name is Loto [Pokémon Fanfiction]

07| Everything Was Okay

Kari's arm whipped out, a vine uncurling from his wrist to reach for the canteen I tossed into the air. The vine's end reached out like a hand and wrapped around the canteen, grabbing it. His shoulders hunched as he let out a sigh of relief.

"I... actually grabbed it this time!" he breathed. The vine retracted, bringing the canteen to his outstretched hand.

"You did. Nice job!" I praised while Dew squeaked her approval from my shoulder. Kari's skills with Vine Whip were coming along more quickly than we both expected. After what happened in Nelthe, he'd insisted on trying to strengthen his offensive potential. And yeah, I could admit that I was proud of him for how much work he was putting into it.

Kari held the canteen to his chest, the vine slithering back into his wrist as he did so. I winced when I saw that he could only bend his arm halfway when he moved it.

"I-I wanna try a couple more times, at least until I can grab it again," he said, holding the canteen out to me. He had to turn his whole arm to hand it over, the twisting mobility of his forearm almost nonexistent now. I couldn't help but stare. Compared to Kari, I'd gotten off easy with the gash on my face. At least an ugly scar didn't restrict any movement. "Hey, stop it!" he said, the snappiness in his voice averting my gaze from his arm. "It's been almost three weeks since that happened, and I've gotten pretty used to it. I'm happy I can even use it in the first place."

I sighed. "Yeah, you're right," I said. "I just can't help it. Anyways, as long as you're feelin' okay, then you can practice a bit more." Casting spells that weren't used often, or casting an abundance of spells at once in general, tended to tire a magician out. Back in Nelthe, Kari probably would've stayed conscious if he hadn't cast Vine Whip.

"Maybe I should try throwing it next," Kari suggested. "Then you can get more practice with moving targets."

"I think the twenty or whatever bird Pokémon I've shot down can say I'm good enough," I said with a smirk. Kari laughed, and I tried to do so too, only to be overcome and interrupted by the scratchiness that had been building in my throat until then. I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, shoulders tensing as I was briefly wracked by a coughing fit.

"You still have that cold?" Kari said, concerned.

I nodded, sniffling loudly. "Thought it would've gone by now." I'd been unlucky enough to pick up a cold from someone in a town we passed through, probably Mayess since I started coughing the day after we left there.

After the lucky break in Nelthe, our visits to other towns had proved fruitless in terms of information about the purple-eyed man. All we knew was that he had a Vere-sounding name, was around six feet tall, wore heavy boots and a brown cloak, had dark hair and skin, and (obviously) had narrow purple eyes. Kari was of course ecstatic about how much information we'd collected, but I still had a more than healthy amount of skepticism and worry weighing on me. I tried to act positive though, because I knew Kari appreciated it.