He always enjoyed the breeze. The scent of the sea always made him feel closer to home. He looked at the large cream colored sword that he usually kept strapped to his back. As he lay there in the grassy plain he pulled the sword closer to him, held it close to his ear and listened closely. He could hear it, the waves of the ocean emanate from the blade, just like his father said. The blade was rather dull from years of neglect and lacked in cutting power but it was blunt and great for crushing. It was a Samurott sword, far too large and unwieldy for any Dewott to handle.
He was a young Dewott, inexperienced in the field of battle but he wasn't just any Dewott. He was the son of General Shaka the Great. He was Shamu, and for some reason he was far stronger than any Dewott should be. No one in his village had any clue where his great strength came from and even his father joked that maybe he was a Machop in disguise. He felt a slight pang of sorrow in his chest when he thought of his father. He never knew his mother she died when he was a few months old but his father's death was recent and it hurt.
Three weeks to be exact. Three weeks of wandering aimlessly alone with no clue where to go or what to do. Everything he had known and grew to love was taken from him abruptly. He silently cursed the Legendries for his fate. He grew up in a religious village as a child always remembering to offer tributes to the great Legendary Pokémon for their protection and guidance. A lot of good that did him. And now he lay here out in a field. No friends, no family, and no home. Nothing. Nothing but his father's sword that he held so close to himself as if he was nurturing it. It was his family, his friend, his security, and his guidance.
He made his way to edge of a river, and set his sword and scabbard aside. He took the scallops from the sides of his waist and prepared to go fishing. "Hopefully I'll catch a Goldeen or even Feebas" He licked his whiskers as he talked to himself. It was a recent habit he picked up since he'd been alone for so long it was nice to hear a voice. Even if it was his own.
He agilely leapt into the water creating little more than a ripple. The wet coolness of the water enveloped his body and felt good against his fur as he glided through the murky water. As he swam he made a mental note to stay a still as physically possible as not to disturb the potential prey. He felt a faint ripple through the water. He turned to see what appeared to a Magikarp darting around frantically as if it lost its mind. It appeared that the poor fish was trapped between some rocks and separated from its school. Magikarp weren't the smartest of fish and it seemed to have no clue that all of its erratic movements were drawing predators from far and wide besides Shamu.
Shamu felt almost bad for wanting to kill it. Out of the murky depths a curious Totodile waded in to move in for the kill. Reacting without thought Shamu swung his scallops with great force creating a shockwave that confused and disoriented the reptile. The Totodile sensing danger swam away quickly. That's when Shamu approached the red fish slowly and raised his scallop ready to strike. A cut the poor creature free from the vines wrapped around its tail. The fish darted away far too frightened to show gratitude.
"Go on. Your family is probably worried sick about you." He felt a strange sense of comradery with the little fish. All alone, stuck, and frantically searching for a way out of the big empty void. Too bad no one was going to come rescue him.
"What the heck am I thinking? Having compassion for my prey. It's unheard of." He scolded himself upon reaching the shore. As he sat on the river's edge he was reminded of times long past.
Flasback
Shamu sat on the river's edge bored out of his mind. He picked a nice sized branch out the water and proceeded to thrust and parry his way through the branches and sediment on the riverside. He attempted a somersault but landed on the shallow edge with a hard thud. Before he could gain composure he heard laughter in the far off bushes.
"Who goes there! Reveal yourself at once!" He leapt out of the water with great agility. A young male Buizel a couple of years older stepped out of the bushes.
"Relax it's me" the young Buizel chuckled.
"Ren?, how long were you watching?." Shamu scratched his head embarrassed about what his brother might of saw.
"Long enough to see you eat one." The Buizel retorted. The Dewott blushed in embarrassment.
"Why are you out here anyway?" Shamu said trying to change the subject.
" Father's looking for you. I think it's important."
Shamu's eyes widened, "Well why didn't you say that in the first place. I gotta go!"
"Race ya" The Buizel called as he began swimming up the river.
"No fair you got a head start" the Dewott yelled as he swam after his brother.
A quarter mile of the river they reached Souldew Village, with Ren coming in the lead.
"Once again I win." He boasted with a cocky grin.
"So what. I gotta go find Father." Trying not to let the loss hurt his pride. It was true, not only was Ren older but he beat Shamu at everything. Swimming, fishing, oyster shucking, somersaulting you name it and Ren was better at it. Except for one thing, and this one thing that Shamu enjoyed more than anything. Fighting. Shamu was among the boys the best fighter and was incredibly strong for his age and size. Unfortunately fighting was prohibited in the village so his talent wasn't really put to good use.
"Where have you been all day, son?" His father a massive elderly Samurott asked inquisitively while blowing into his pipe.
"I was in the forest training by the river." He found it pointless to lie as he wasn't very good at it and the act often left him with a despicable feeling.
"Son, what did I tell you about fighting? Souldew Village is a place a peace. Away from the chaos and violence that plagues the rest of the world." He replied puffing his pipe.
"But Father fighting is what I was born to do it's what I'm good at. It's the only thing I'm good at." He looked at the broad cream colored sword that lay dormant on the mantle above the fireplace. "Don't forget you were once a great warrior too Father. I am your son and I have your blood."
The Samurott sighed with disappointment, "Shamu, there is no such thing as a great warrior; wars do not make one great. A great man pursues a life of peace. A life of war is a short and miserable one. I only fought because I had no choice. I fought so that one day you wouldn't have to. In war I've done things, unspeakable things that haunt me to this day so that you could have the peace that's eluded me for so long. I achieved that peace and I've hung up my sword. Now it's time for you to hang up yours ."
"But father this isn't fair if I have a choice then why can't I choose the life of warrior?"
"Sometimes you have to know when to fight son, when to pick your battles. Fight for the good of others, fight for something you love, fight only when peace isn't an option." He added before sending Shamu outside. "And remember to make sure whatever you're fighting for is worth dying for. You have no reason to be a warrior therefore you do not have my blessing."
"But father-"
"Why can't you be more like your brother? Why does everything have to be a fight with you? Go outside and play. There will be no more talk of this foolishness."
At this point Shamu knew better than to argue so he solemnly bowed his head out of respect "Yes father."
When his son left the hut, the old Samurott picked up a picture of a beautiful female Floatzel. "I just don't know what to do with that boy anymore. I wish you were here; maybe you could talk some sense into him. Arcues knows I've tried."
A splash of water to the face knocked him out of his slumber.
"Huh wha?" He dazed half asleep.
"Wake up silly. Don't you know where you are?" a female voice said.
Shamu looked up to see a female Simipour standing over him. She smiled at him playfully while shaking her blue dreadlocks.
He found himself surrounded by dozens of multicolored monkeys.
That's the first chapter. Please review so I can improve my writing skills.