The girl wore a pristine white sailor uniform, with a ribbon tied neatly at the collar. Beneath the sharp folds of her navy pleated skirt were a pair of long, slender legs wrapped in pure white over-the-knee socks. Only at the narrow strip of bare skin—the so-called "absolute territory"—could her delicate complexion be seen. Her fra was petite, with a short crop of soft, elegant hair, accented by a crescent-white headband that radiated a calm and refreshing aura.
Logan studied the young woman in front of him. Despite her attire suggesting a high school student, her presence told a different story—she seed more like a university freshman or sophomore. The quiet sophistication about her, dignified and graceful, made her appear older, like a gentle and refined older sister.
But Logan wasn't fooled. Gentle older sister or not, her recent attack was still fresh in his mory. The wound on his right arm was bleeding freely, a harsh reminder of her strength.
"Erika, Gym Leader of Celadon City?"
Though frad as a question, Logan's tone carried certainty. Erika's face was famous; anyone could look her up on the net. Compared to Sabrina's cold aloofness or Misty's youthful energy, Erika embodied the image of Kanto's Gym Leaders—mature, elegant, and breathtakingly beautiful.
Her deanor was cultured and her conduct impeccable, a paragon of grace who often represented Kanto at Gym Leader etings across regions. With her refined manners and national idol-like presence, it was no wonder society admired her.
But Logan wasn't among her admirers. Not when his arm was still bleeding.
He kept reminding himself—he was injured, and the one who caused it was standing right in front of him.
"Indeed, I am," Erika replied softly.
Even in a sailor uniform, her movents carried the poise of a noble lady. She clasped her hands before her and bowed deeply to Logan. Despite her high status as a Gym Leader, she displayed no arrogance—only sincerity and humility. It was easy to see why people adored her.
But Logan remained wary. His wound was proof that she wasn't the fragile, tender girl her appearance suggested. She was a Gym Leader—a woman capable of ending a man's life without him realizing it.
From behind Erika, two Pokémon erged from the bushes: a Tangela and a Bellossom.
Logan's eyes narrowed. The Tangela's vines had been the ones that bound his Gabite earlier. Dangerous, yes, but not his main concern. No, the real threat was the radiant Bellossom standing beside it.
Bellossom was a rarity in Kanto, evolving from Gloom with a Sun Stone—a stone Kanto did not naturally produce. Draped in a skirt of blossoms, Bellossom was as graceful and enchanting as its Trainer.
But Logan wasn't about to underestimate it. This was the one that had neutralized his flas and nearly poisoned him with its intoxicating aroma. Just as Sabrina had her Alakazam, Erika's Bellossom was undoubtedly her ace. A true powerhouse—at the level of an Elite Four Pokémon.
As Logan's gaze hardened with hostility, Erika's gentle expression flickered with unease. Any ordinary man would have lted at such a look, forgiven her instantly without question.
But she wasn't his lover, and Logan wasn't the type to be swayed by beauty.
"My apologies," Erika said, bowing once again. "I acted rashly earlier because of your… association with Sabrina of Team Rocket. It made uneasy."
Her voice was soft, sincere, filled with courtesy. Yet Logan could tell—she wasn't telling the whole truth. That attack had been anything but rash. It had been deliberate. Calculated.
"Hmph. So Sabrina's identity isn't a secret anymore?" Logan scoffed.
"You may not know, Mr. Logan, but Team Rocket is nearly public now—brazenly standing against the Kanto League. Many Gym Leaders who answer to them worry that Rocket's actions will destabilize the region, perhaps even spark a war."
Erika's brows knitted with concern. This wasn't hollow sentint; her worry for Kanto's peace was genuine, and unlike most, she had the strength and influence to act.
Logan studied her quietly. Of all the remaining Gym Leaders, Erika was the eldest in tenure, the strongest, the one capable of uniting the rest against Rocket. The burden on her shoulders was imnse.
But understanding her burden didn't an forgiving her actions.
"So you thought I was one of Rocket's lackeys?" Logan asked coldly.
"Yes," Erika admitted. "Though you have disrupted many of their plans, your closeness to Sabrina raises doubts."
Logan almost laughed. Just say it—you think I fell for her charms. It wouldn't bother . And if you're that concerned, you could always try to seduce yourself. I wouldn't mind a gentle 'big sister' type, either.
Internally, he scoffed. He had suspected Erika of working with Rocket, yet here she was suspecting him instead. Rocket had truly sown chaos, spreading paranoia across Kanto. Giovanni's cunning was no small thing.
"So? Are you convinced I'm not Rocket now?" Logan pressed.
"…No," Erika said truthfully. "I cannot say for certain. But I do know one thing—you are a worthy Trainer. I saw how you shielded Eevee from my Razor Leaf attack. That act spoke volus."
"That was just instinct. Eevee is mine now. I protect my own. But don't mistake that for kindness toward every Pokémon." Logan retorted flatly.
"That alone is enough," Erika replied gently. "To care deeply for one's own partners is the mark of a true Trainer. Not everyone can love and treat all equally. But sincerity, even if it's only toward your own Pokémon, is worthy of respect."
Her tone was calm, wise, almost disarming.
"My Bellossom's Razor Leaf could have easily been recalled. I only ant to force you to release Eevee. But you still chose to protect it. That tells everything I need to know."
She looked at him softly. "From a League standpoint, entrusting Eevee to you might be aiding the enemy. But as a woman who cares for Pokémon above all else… I am glad for Eevee. You have my respect."
Logan was silent for a long mont before he muttered, "…Has anyone ever told you, Erika, that you're too kind? So kind it makes others feel unworthy?"
Here stood a woman who gave everything for her duty, yet still followed her heart. A woman who loved Pokémon and nature, who refused to let human conflicts poison her compassion.
Erika smiled faintly. "We can speak of this later. For now, your arm is still bleeding. Allow to tend to it."
With that, she stepped forward alone, leaving her Pokémon behind. Her openness, her complete lack of defense, made Logan lift a hand—signaling Gabite and Dragonair to stay their ground.
As she drew closer, a delicate fragrance enveloped him—her natural scent blending seamlessly with the subtle perfu she wore. It was elegant, never cloying, a masterful harmony that revealed her sophistication. Even with his eyes closed, the fragrance alone could convince a man of her beauty.
Then Erika did sothing unexpected. Kneeling gracefully before him, she reached for his wounded arm. For a fleeting mont, Logan's heart skipped—her posture was far too suggestive, too intimate.
But instead of what his racing thoughts imagined, Erika lifted his injured arm, pressed her lips against the bleeding wound—
—and kissed it gently.
The bright red of his blood stained her lips, transforming her elegance into sothing startlingly sensual.
In that instant, the refined goddess of Celadon seed less like an untouchable lady… and more like a dangerously beautiful woman.
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