Though it was called a "villa," the place resembled nothing like a luxurious mansion. Instead, it was more like Erika's personal training grounds: a dojo for archery practice, a serene room for flower arrangent and tea ceremony—this was all that composed her so-called retreat.
"So this counts as training too, huh, Erika…"
Logan stood at the edge of the dojo, dressed in training clothes. He held a bow in his hands, arrow nocked, as Erika stood by his side, adjusting his posture.
She was very close—so close that her fragrance lingered in the air around him. Logan could never tire of it. Erika seed to change perfus daily, yet no matter the scent, it blended perfectly with her own natural aroma, fresh and calming, just like her gentle elegance.
She wore a red-and-white dojo uniform that resembled the garb of a shrine maiden. Petite and graceful, her bare feet rested lightly against the wooden floor. Rising slightly on her toes, her delicate white hand grasped Logan's wrist as she gently corrected him, her voice soft:
"…Practicing archery now and then doesn't just help steady the mind—it's also a way to relax yourself."
Her fingers were cool and tender, and the touch sent a soft shiver through Logan.
"Lower your wrist a little more… there. Yes, that's the stance. Rember this well, Logan."
With Erika's guidance, Logan straightened his posture. He took a deep breath, squinting at the target before him. This ti, he relied on nothing—no psychic abilities, no tricks—only the feel of his body as he loosed the bowstring. The arrow shot forth and struck the target.
He wasn't especially talented—just hitting the board was already good enough for him.
"Whew… Yeah, this is relaxing. Fun, even."
Exhaling lightly, Logan recalled that back in his old world, his friends had sotis dragged him along to archery ranges. He was never great at it, but it was fun in small doses.
He found himself subconsciously keeping a little distance from Erika—not because he disliked her. Quite the opposite. Her graceful deanor and intoxicating floral aura naturally drew his attention. The unique fragrance surrounding her was like sothing heaven-blessed, as if she were forever encircled by blossoms.
If this had been in the past, Logan would have stumbled over himself, awkwardly trying to get closer to such a beautiful woman—because even one extra word exchanged with soone like her would've felt like happiness. But now, in a life where survival was so uncertain, his desire to pursue romance had dulled.
It was just like if one were transported into a world of magic: the first thought wouldn't be romance, but learning magic to survive. This world had Pokémon, not spells—but the principle was the sa. Logan wasn't native here; it hadn't even been a year since he arrived. And with such wondrous creatures surrounding him every day, why bother chasing won?
In his current life, Pokémon ranked above romance. What he wanted most was the power to take control of his destiny. Only once he had that strength might he consider other things. But Erika seed to have misunderstood, thinking him simply awkward with girls.
Logan sighed inwardly. "What would Sabrina think if she heard this…"
Later, they sat at a low wooden table. Tea utensils were neatly arranged on top. Erika knelt gracefully before him, head bowed as she brewed tea with practiced skill. Logan, holding Eevee in his arms and stroking its fur absentmindedly, broke the silence:
"…Are you nervous, Erika?"
The girl's slender body trembled. Even her fragrance seed to falter in the air. Setting down the teapot, she offered him a cup of tea, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"…It seems my self-discipline isn't enough if you could see through so easily."
She lowered her eyes. "I thought daily ditation and calm living would let face anything without wavering. But no matter how much I try to steady my heart… so thoughts creep into my mind unbidden. They terrify ."
Logan knew well the weight she carried. Though Erika stood as a Gym Leader, she was still just a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl. The safety of the entire Kanto region rested on her shoulders. That burden would crush even him.
"The League… truly useless," Logan muttered.
Those high-ranking officials were all elderly n with little actual ability. And yet, they pushed their responsibilities onto Erika.
"You shouldn't bla the Chairman," Erika said softly, shaking her head. "He's doing all he can. You haven't t him, Logan—he's very gentle, never loses his temper with anyone. And because of that…"
"And because of that, he's too weak-willed, and the League can't manage anything?" Logan finished.
Erika gave a bitter smile and nodded.
This world was strange. Here, the people at the top tended to be kind-hearted, not corrupt as in so many of the novels Logan had read back ho. But that was likely because of the system: true power lay in the hands of powerful Trainers. The League was more like a mascot—symbolic moral authority, but without true control.
"The truth is, whether it's Misty in Cerulean or Brock in Pewter, they're all relying on . If I collapse under the pressure, the entire Kanto region will be in danger. I don't know what Team Rocket's ultimate goal is… but from their actions so far, it's clear. If they seize control, it won't just be bad for the League—it'll be a disaster for every citizen of Kanto."
Her fingers tightened on her sleeve, pale hand tapping lightly on the teacup. Though her tone remained calm, it was easy to sense the frustration boiling beneath.
This was what being a "hero" truly ant—standing up when needed, bearing a weight no ordinary person could endure, often with little reward and at great personal risk. As a Gym Leader, Erika's sense of duty was impeccable.
She could have walked away. Misty could have ignored it. Brock too. But all of them chose to resist, because of responsibility.
"If Team Rocket continues unchecked, this fragile peace will shatter. Then monsters—human or otherwise—will crawl from the shadows. Civilization itself may regress. Dictatorship, tyranny—it could all co back."
Logan gave a wry smile. "If I were the ruler, I'd vote for dictatorship. If I were the ruled, I'd wish for freedom."
Erika's bright eyes blinked, shimring with a quiet intensity. Then, suddenly, she reached across the table and grasped Logan's hand. Her palm was cool yet warm, the touch delicate, stirring ripples in his heart.
The girl leaned slightly forward, her voice soft, yet carrying an inexplicable intimacy that made his heartbeat quicken.
"…So, Logan. Will you help ?"
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