After changing into a clean set of clothes, Logan sat cross-legged on a platform not far from the temporary command post. With food in hand, he quietly watched the occasional bursts of battle that still lit up Saffron City's night.
Thanks to this world's incredible technology, even during war there was no shortage of logistics and supply. As long as one carried a pack similar to a space-storage device, every trainer could be entirely self-sufficient.
When Sabrina fought, she hadn't brought food. So Logan had given her everything he carried. After a whole day of battle, he was starving. But, since he had a close relationship with Erika—the current commander of the Kanto forces—he had no trouble finding supplies from her stores, picking out what he liked and enjoying them here like it was an improvised picnic.
The food consisted of high-compression rations, packed with dense nutrition and energy. Despite being emergency supplies, they tasted surprisingly good. Beside him, Garchomp, Dragonair, and Eevee quietly enjoyed their own energy cubes.
All three bore marks of the day's battle. Garchomp's scales, Dragonair's sleek body, and Eevee's once-silky fur were marred by scratches and dirt. For Pokémon, food was only physical sustenance—the true replenishment of their life-force energy field was like a cultivator's meditation: slow, requiring time and patience.
It wasn't that Logan didn't want to heal them. But the Pokémon Center in Saffron had long since collapsed. Even if the Allied Forces restored partial power to some machines, in a war of this scale there were simply not enough to go around.
Unlike the games, where a few seconds at the healing machine restored everything, reality demanded long hours of operation. In such conditions, priority naturally went to those Pokémon on the brink of death. Others, with only moderate injuries, had to wait.
And that, Logan knew, was also the mark of a trainer's true skill: keeping one's Pokémon from ever reaching the edge of death. It was why, in his battle against Giovanni, he had relied mostly on Garchomp, using Dragonair sparingly and Eevee almost not at all. They had already exhausted too much stamina in earlier fights—any more, and they would have been in real danger.
"Ten months really is too little…"
Logan sighed softly. Ten months was all the time he had been given to grow. And yet, the fact that he had trained his Pokémon to such strength already left him satisfied. For these ten months, he had demanded the utmost of himself every single moment, meeting hardships far beyond what most would ever face. The experience he gained in this short time was equal to five—no, ten—years of another trainer's life.
Closing his eyes, he reached out with psychic energy, linking with Mew. Upon learning Sabrina was already asleep, he finally let his last tension slip away.
"...Mewtwo, you don't seem very happy."
Logan suddenly spoke aloud.
[...]
"I know. It's because of Mew, isn't it? The only things that can stir your emotions—besides me—must be tied to Mew. For you, only the two of us are truly special."
He chuckled wryly. Mewtwo's feelings toward Mew were impossibly complicated. Ethically, Mew was its mother. Practically, it was nothing more than Mew's clone. Gratitude and hatred coiled together in Mewtwo's heart.
Logan knew Mewtwo didn't like Mew. But it wasn't to the extent of killing on sight. Especially since the Cerulean battle, where Mewtwo had proved itself stronger than Mew. The title "beyond Mew" was now well earned. It no longer needed to question its identity. It had accepted the truth: "I am Mewtwo."
[I admit… I am unsettled. Perhaps humans would call it unhappiness. But for your safety, Logan, I will tolerate Mew's presence. Though weaker than I, she can still protect you in critical moments. I know what you aim to achieve is vast. I alone cannot cover all fronts.]
Mewtwo's calm voice resonated in Logan's mind.
"It seems you haven't learned humanity's worst traits—lying and hypocrisy. You're brutally honest."
Logan leaned back and stretched onto the platform floor, one hand stroking Eevee, who had curled up beside him.
Mewtwo's confidence in its own strength remained absolute.
[Those human flaws are not worth learning. I have recognized my own existence, but I have no 'goal of living.' Therefore, your goal becomes mine. I will be with you, until every one of your pursuits is fulfilled.]
"…Thank you."
Logan whispered with his eyes closed.
No more needed to be said. Their spirits were already linked; thoughts and emotions flowed between them effortlessly.
…
From a distance, Misty stood silently, watching Logan lie there on the platform.
Her expression was a tangled web of emotions—worry, hesitation, and something that looked almost like fear.
She wanted to just walk over, greet him with a simple "Hi, how are you?" and then sit nearby, talking about anything and everything under the stars.
But such a simple act felt impossibly hard. Her racing heartbeat, the blush on her face—she couldn't bring herself to approach.
She had already stood there for over half an hour, caught in hesitation.
Finally, as she gathered her courage, drew a deep breath, and prepared to walk forward—
A gentle female voice came from behind her.
"Logan's exhausted after today's battle. Now's not a good time to disturb him."
"Eh?! Erika?! What are you doing here?! N-no, I wasn't going to bother him! I just thought—he's lying there, and I worried he'd catch a chill. I wanted to tell him to rest properly…"
Misty jumped like a startled rabbit, spinning around. Behind her stood Erika, smiling softly, serene as always. Misty stammered, waving her hands frantically.
"Logan's no child anymore. He knows what he's doing. If he wants to rest here, let him. If you go now, even if he doesn't show it, in his heart he'll surely dislike being disturbed."
Erika's gentle tone carried warmth—but in the depths of her lowered eyes flickered a shadow of darkness few could see.
"Y-you might be right…"
Misty faltered again. The thought of upsetting Logan weighed heavily on her. She didn't want her intentions to backfire. For a moment, she even felt grateful for Erika's advice.
"Logan is the greatest hero of this war. The clean-up of Rocket remnants here in Saffreon will only be tedious, time-consuming work. I've already advised him to leave as soon as dawn breaks, to rest in a safer city. Those burdens fall on us Gym Leaders—that's our duty. Our champion deserves rest. I've already arranged for Red and Blue to leave tomorrow as well."
Erika spoke like a wise older sister, someone who thought of everything, someone who carried the burdens so others could breathe easier.
Misty felt a pang of guilt. Compared to Erika, she seemed childish, selfishly thinking only of herself while Erika considered everyone's well-being.
Yes, Logan was exhausted. She shouldn't disturb him.
"Thank you, Erika!"
Misty bowed her head gratefully.
"Think nothing of it."
Erika's smile glowed warmly. Dressed in her floral kimono, she seemed touched by silver light in the moonlit night—elegant and serene, so much that Misty found herself momentarily dazzled.
Yet beneath that beauty, Misty felt a faint unease. Erika's words made perfect sense… so why did something about them feel so wrong?
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