Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

"You..."

Whatever Logan was about to say was swallowed back down as he watched the little girl slowly approach the Goldeen, squatting down gently in front of it. She placed a hand on the Pokémon’s body. Despite her young age, the smile on her face was like that of an angel—healing not only the heart of the Goldeen but his own as well.

Just moments ago, the Goldeen had looked aggressive, furious even, likely upset from being dragged ashore. But now, it had stopped flopping around. Instead, it gently swayed its body, closing its eyes in sync with the little girl.

It almost looked like they were... communicating.

Logan found this deeply puzzling. As far as he knew, only Mewtwo had ever shown the capacity to communicate with humans in such a way. Even Mew—another legendary Pokémon—despite being extraordinarily intelligent and spiritually attuned, had never been seen actually conversing in human terms. His own "Dragonheart" ability didn’t allow real communication either; it was more like emotional resonance or empathy, strictly limited to Dragon-type Pokémon.

The little girl’s smile deepened. With a soft "Heave-ho!" she strained slightly as she picked up the Goldeen’s body and carefully carried it back to the riverbank, placing it gently into the water. While Water-types could survive on land for short periods, they vastly preferred aquatic environments.

As soon as it hit the water, the Goldeen gave a playful Splash and then dove out of sight beneath the surface.

"You... can talk to Pokémon?"

Logan furrowed his brow, staring down at the girl with a scrutinizing look.

It was the first time he truly took a good look at her. She had golden hair that shimmered like sunlight, and though her body was small—perhaps around eight or nine years old—her delicate features already hinted at future beauty. She was like a perfectly carved porcelain doll, a lotus blossoming in clear water—untouched and unmarred by the world. A beauty in the making, destined to dazzle when grown.

"No, no, not really! I can’t actually talk to Pokémon... It’s just... I can kind of feel their emotions. That Goldeen stopped being angry after I apologized."

The little girl quickly waved her hands in denial, lowering her head a bit in embarrassment. Her eyes were a clear, sparkling hazel, so bright they looked like twinkling stars. Then, as if a happy thought crossed her mind, she offered Logan a gentle smile—elegant and serene, so pure that it made one hesitant to disturb her innocence.

She was smart. And incredibly perceptive. That was Logan’s first impression. Not at all like the bratty children he usually avoided.

"So, just emotional sensing, huh..."

Logan murmured to himself. It seemed that this little girl had a unique ability too—likely more broadly applicable than his. She could sense the emotions of all Pokémon, not just a specific type. But unlike his own power, which allowed for deep and specific emotional syncing with Dragon-types, hers was more surface-level—she could only sense feelings, not share or influence them.

"Ah! Mister, your Pokémon is hurt!"

Logan had been standing there with his hands in his pockets, silently watching the little girl. Perhaps that made her a bit nervous. She looked around, trying to break the awkward silence, and then gasped when she noticed the scars on Gible’s body.

"It’s fine. Just surface wounds. He’s already healed internally. A trip to the Pokémon Center later and they’ll be completely gone," Logan replied casually. It was natural for both trainer and Pokémon to get a little roughed up during outdoor training. He’d endured countless injuries himself—most now faded thanks to medicine. But for Gible, proper treatment at a center was still necessary to erase the leftover scars.

But the girl didn’t seem to hear him. She dashed over to Gible. The Dragon-type, though nearly her height, looked especially fierce and intimidating with its sharp gaze. She hesitated for a moment, then knelt down on one knee in front of it. Her small hand began to glow with a soft green light—like the breath of life itself.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward toward the wounded Pokémon.

Before Logan’s eyes, Gible’s injuries began to fade, healing rapidly. Within moments, Gible looked as if it had just walked out of the most professional treatment room of a Pokémon Center.

Logan’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped.

What... What the hell was this?

What kind of power was that?! A portable, handheld Pokémon Center?! She had just healed Gible’s wounds simply by placing her hand near it! That’s not an ability—that’s a walking cheat code!

Logan’s mind reeled. Even as someone who had crossed over from another world with some special abilities of his own, this felt absurd. Compared to this little girl’s crazy healing power, his "Dragonheart" felt almost... underwhelming.

But Logan wasn’t the same person he was a month ago. After enduring a brutal survival training in the wilds—where he brushed shoulders with death more than once—his mind and body had both grown strong. His instincts sharpened, and his emotional maturity deepened. He quickly calmed himself down and began evaluating the situation rationally.

It looked like a cheat power, but maybe it wasn’t as unbeatable as it seemed.

Yes, it could heal injuries during battle... but Logan noticed that it only healed physical wounds. It didn’t restore stamina or energy. That meant the ability couldn’t turn a Pokémon into an invincible perpetual-motion engine. Once the Pokémon ran out of strength or moves, even a healthy body would be nothing more than a glorified sandbag.

Also, the ability had clear limitations. The girl needed to be close to the Pokémon, and it likely required her to focus deeply. In a real, high-stakes battle, she wouldn’t have the luxury of calmly kneeling and focusing on healing. The battlefield waits for no one.

Logan let out a silent sigh of relief. Powerful? Yes. Game-breaking? No. Against real threats, there might not even be an opportunity to use it.

After a moment of quiet thought, Logan forced a warm smile onto his face, trying his best to look like a friendly big brother and not some creepy adult. He spoke gently, "...My name is Logan. What’s yours?"

"I’m Yellow. I’ll be nine soon! I live right here in Viridian City, mister~~"

The little girl beamed brightly, her pure voice soft and melodic like a lullaby. Completely innocent, completely trusting—no concept of danger. That sweet smile, framed by sunlight streaming through the forest canopy, shone like a diamond in the rough.

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T/N:

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