"Razor Leaf!"
The moment Logan caught sight of the flying objects, he recognized them instantly.
Sharp blades sliced through the air, so fast that his skin stung even before they reached him. Those faint green streaks were nothing more than ordinary leaves—and yet Logan knew, instinctively, these leaves carried the lethality of martial arts legends, the level where a true master could "pluck flowers and leaves to kill."
The shrill sound of the air being shredded made his eardrums ache. The speed of the leaves was so fast, there was no time to think. What startled Logan most was not that the leaves were aimed at him—but that many were targeting the Eevee cradled in his arms.
Team Rocket?!
That was the first thought that flashed in his mind. His brain raced beyond reason, forming an instant conclusion: Team Rocket must have sent assassins to eliminate him before his research—and his Eevee—could fall into someone else's hands.
In the blink of a breath, countless calculations rushed through his mind.
The leaves were sharp, yes, but not large. They weren't knives meant to stab deep, but slashing projectiles. For him, a human, the cuts wouldn't be fatal. But for the already gravely injured Eevee in his arms… one strike could mean its end.
In that instant, Logan made his choice.
He raised his right arm to shield his face from being disfigured and twisted his body, wrapping his left arm protectively around Eevee, shielding it with his own body.
The leaves struck.
"Ngghhh!" Logan hissed in pain as his right arm burned with fire. The cuts were shallow, like paper slices that left stinging trails of blood—but multiplied dozens of times across his skin.
"Ripppp—"
His sleeve was shredded. Blood flowed freely, staining his arm red. Painful, but not crippling. Logan had long grown used to injury. This was nothing. He simply furrowed his brows—then prepared to counterattack.
Because defense had never been his style.
Beside him, Gabite roared in fury at seeing its master wounded. With raw strength, it tore apart the vines restraining it. At the same moment, Logan hurled another Poké Ball.
A flash of light burst forth—and a graceful Dragonair appeared, its serpentine form gleaming under the faint sun.
"Gabite! Dragonair! Flamethrower, both of you!"
He still hadn't seen the attacker—but the skill was obvious. Razor Leaf meant a Grass-type. Fire was the natural answer.
Twin torrents of flame erupted, turning the battlefield into an inferno. The flames raged across the ground, devouring grass, scorching trees to ash. The temperature soared to a thousand degrees.
And then—
From within the blaze drifted flowers.
Countless blossoms of every color—scarlet, violet, snow-white, golden. They spun gracefully, whirling like dancers through the inferno. Their petals ignited, turning to ash—but as they burned, they consumed the energy of the fire itself.
The Flamethrowers weakened. The inferno died out.
"…Incredible."
Logan couldn't help but admire the technique. To neutralize fire, not with water or earth, but with flowers. The move was elegant, beautiful, and terrifying.
And the fragrance—
Even through the smoke, the sweet aroma wafted toward him, subtle and refreshing. So fragrant that Logan found himself involuntarily breathing it in.
Then his vision blurred. His mind grew heavy, as if sinking into water.
"—Dragonair! Use Safeguard, now!" Logan barked.
A shimmering veil of rainbow light enveloped him and his Pokémon. The fog in his mind lifted immediately.
His face hardened. "So… poison hidden within fragrance. Clever."
What seemed delicate and elegant was deadly. Those blossoms had concealed Sleep Powder and Poison Spores, drifting soundlessly on the breeze. A single greedy breath of that aroma—and a person would collapse into unconsciousness.
This enemy… was dangerous. Not crude and brutal like Agatha, whose eerie ghostly powers overwhelmed with raw malice, but subtle. Graceful. Deadly. Unpredictable.
Logan muttered to the psychic presence within his mind. "Mewtwo, why didn't you sense the ambush?"
"Their Pokémon were so deeply attuned with nature," Mewtwo's voice resonated gravely, "I mistook them for wild creatures passing through. I never expected them to attack."
The danger had passed for now. Logan felt oddly calmer. He'd chosen to take wounds to shield Eevee rather than dodge, and his arm was bleeding badly. But letting Eevee die? That was never an option.
After all the effort to save it, there was no way he'd let it perish here.
He straightened, eyes narrowed. "Only one person in Kanto commands flowers and grass with such mastery… Celadon City's Gym Leader. Don't tell me… you're with Team Rocket too?"
His voice was low, dangerous. Gabite stepped in front of him, Dragonair shimmering behind the Safeguard barrier, another Light Screen shining to guard them. This time, no silent ambush would get through.
"…Ahhh."
A soft sigh drifted from the trees. The voice of a young woman, barely more than a girl. Light, airy, yet steeped in natural calm—like wind carrying the scents of spring, summer, autumn, and winter all at once.
It was a voice so pure and delicate that one might imagine a court maiden of old, or the refined elegance of plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum.
Then Logan saw her.
He froze.
Not because of her beauty—he had met too many beautiful women before: Sabrina's icy majesty, Green's mischievous charm, Caitlin's languid nobility. No, it wasn't her beauty that shocked him.
It was her attire.
A schoolgirl uniform.
Logan's mouth twitched. …This world has JK girls?! I'm really seeing a Japanese high-school girl here?!
It wasn't that the world lacked culture. Quite the opposite—each city carried its own aesthetic, a kaleidoscope of European, Eastern, rustic, or minimalist styles. But this girl before him—she was purely, unmistakably Japanese.
A true, traditional Wa-style maiden.
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