Shortly after Mewtwo's burst of psychic pain flared out, a strong pulse of warm, soothing energy irised over everyone -- Enlightened and Pokemon included. Orihime's look of concern was replaced by a small frown, her young face serious as she stood her ground and clenched her hands into fists. There was a lot she would tolerate, but hurting her friends and innocent people who just wanted to help triggered a stubborn streak of protectiveness.

"I know you're in pain. All of you," she said quietly. "I can feel it intensely. You're dying, and you're hurt and scared. Of course it's natural if you want to lash out. Anyone would."

She took a step forward, then another, and stopped. "But this can't be the way you want to spend your last moments...bloodied, and angry, and filled with bitterness and hatred. If I can feel what you do, then you have to be able to feel our emotions too. We want to help. Even if it's just to help you spend your last days in peace, where you can be loved and accepted."

Orihime looked at the stubborn Wobbuffet, then at Mewtwo. "Don't misunderstand. We came because we wanted to help. We don't want to fight you! But we won't fall over and let you hurt the people of this city either."