At best, it was only the difference between surviving another second… or ten.

Logan grew increasingly anxious.

He tried to push himself up, to go find her — but now his body no longer felt like his own.

Only his brain still worked; even moving a single finger had become painfully hard.

Being saved by a girl didn't bruise his pride — but if Green were to die because of him, he knew he'd carry that guilt forever.

Even if he had killed before, that didn't mean he'd truly turned into a monster, stripped of every shred of human sympathy or shame.

The secret of this world… for now, he couldn't crack it.

Instead of waiting to have his very soul torn apart by this reality, he'd chosen to risk everything — to help Mewtwo fulfill its obsession.

But now, looking back, he realized he had acted too rashly, blinded by the thrill and terror shaking his soul.

Next time… I need to move steadily, cautiously. Keep getting stronger. Once I'm powerful enough, maybe I'll find the reason — and the solution — to it all.

Having walked so close to death, Logan felt himself mature a little more.

This wasn't like past brushes with danger in the wilderness — this had truly been life hanging by a thread.

If Green had been even a few minutes later recalling Mewtwo, he would have died, beyond doubt.

Resting amid the ruined stone, it wasn't long before he heard footsteps.

When he saw Green appear before him, alive, Logan finally let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

No, not entirely unscathed.

Blood traced lines down her limbs, still dripping fresh — adding a sorrowful edge to the beauty of her young face.

But compared to death, those wounds could heal in days, leaving no scar.

"Are you okay, Green?"

His voice softened unconsciously as he looked at her — a girl he barely knew, yet whose image now felt strangely complicated in his mind.

"Do I look okay to you?!"

Green snapped back, glaring at him.

She lifted a hand to her pale cheek — and it came away red with blood.

With a huff, she tossed the Master Ball onto his chest, as if blaming Mewtwo's indifference for her near death.

Then she sat down, rummaging through her futuristic bag for medicine to clean and bandage her wounds.

"Where's Mew?"

"It ran away."

"Ran… away?"

Logan's voice rose slightly, unable to believe it.

Perhaps he'd overestimated Mew's resolve to fight.

Childlike as it was, its spirit had faltered — fleeing after tasting fear.

If, instead, they had provoked a Pokémon like Rayquaza… he and Green might have faced an enraged god's vengeance.

But either way… survival was enough.

After she'd stopped the bleeding on her wounds, Green finally turned to Logan and asked quietly:

"…How's your body?"

"Maybe all those old injuries I got living rough in the wild toughened me up. The cuts already scabbed over. Once I get some medicine, I'll be fine. Right now, I'm just too weak to move — need some rest, that's all."

Green studied him.

The horrifying veins that had twisted under his skin like worms were gone now.

His face, while still deathly pale, no longer dripped cold sweat.

The unspeakable, shifting texture on his left arm had stilled too — now looking merely like an odd tattoo.

She debated whether this was her cue to leave.

But seeing him so drained, so vulnerable… she decided to stay and look after him a while longer.

"Could you help me with something, Green?"

"Depends what it is. Say it first. I don't owe you anything!"

This time, she stayed cautious — not volunteering so easily.

"My mouth's dry. So damn thirsty. Could you get me some water?"

"Get it yourself!"

"Look at me — how exactly would I do that?"

His voice trembled with weakness, and as if to underline it, Logan gave a couple of hoarse coughs.

Green's bright eyes narrowed, amusement flickering behind them.

She leaned in, lips curling mischievously:

"…If you want me to feed you water, you'll have to say something nice first!"

Like teasing a small, stubborn animal.

"Mmm…"

Logan hesitated, a war inside him.

Just as Green thought he'd never lower his pride, he surprised her — shamelessly tightening his throat, pitching his voice up:

"…Big Sister Green!"

For a moment, Logan wondered if he'd become a cartoonish little kid.

Green froze, caught off guard.

Her mind flashed to another small boy who had, for years, always called her 'Big Sister Green'.

But Logan's voice brought no fond memories.

Instead, disgust prickled through her.

He was older than her, for Arceus' sake!

And that voice… it sent shivers down her spine.

"Enough, enough! Just don't call me that again!"

She waved him off quickly.

"What, you don't like it? For all you know, I might be younger than you," Logan teased weakly, eyebrows rising despite the pain.

"…How old are you, anyway?"

At that, Green fell silent.

She knew her age.

But since she was five, her life had been a blur of hardship.

She'd never even celebrated a birthday.

She didn't fear the memories — but she had no desire to speak them aloud.

Wordlessly, she took out her own water flask.

She even fetched a cushion from her bag to prop him up, so he could drink more easily.

Carefully, she held the bottle to his lips, wiping the water that trickled down his chin so it wouldn't soak him.

She was good at caring for others.

That was her own drinking flask — and when the dry, cracked skin of his lips touched the water meant to sustain life, Logan felt a sudden sweetness, whether real or imagined.

The faint warmth of her lips still lingered on the bottle's edge, like an aftertaste he couldn't quite shake.

"Actually… I meant you could've just grabbed the water from my pack," Logan said, unable to resist stirring the pot even now.

Green blinked.

Then her cheeks flushed scarlet.

But remembering what had happened when he knocked her out before — the things he'd seen and done — she decided she had nothing left to be embarrassed about.

She shot him a glare, then leaned back against the broken wall, closing her eyes.

Facing Mew alone had worn out her heart more than her body.

Then, something heavy settled against her shoulder.

Green opened her eyes.

Logan, utterly unguarded, had dozed off right there, leaning into her.

For a moment, she hesitated — but didn't push him away.

She let him rest his head gently against her perfumed shoulder.

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