The jars looked ordinary—like the seasoning bottles you'd find in any corner shop.
Kofu's gaze fell on them, curiosity in his eyes. "These are the seasonings you mentioned?"
"Mm." Jason nodded. "Give them a sniff."
Half-skeptical, Kofu reached out and picked up the one labeled "Salty." He pulled the stopper—but didn't shove it under his nose. Instead, he waved the mouth lightly before his face, letting the aroma drift to him.
Professional habit.
A faint saltiness entered his nose. At first, nothing special. Then his expression changed—because it wasn't just salt. Beneath the salinity was a very particular scent—a power that seemed to draw out an ingredient's most primal, deepest umami.
Kofu's eyes went wide. He quickly took up the jar marked "Sweet." This time a fresh, non-cloying fragrance greeted him—sunlight and plant vitality bottled up, a note that could make any ingredient feel alive.
He went on to smell Sour, Bitter, and Spicy in turn. Each one stunned him anew. These "seasonings" blew past anything he thought seasoning could be. They weren't merely for changing flavors—they were treasures that could give food a soul.
"Good stuff!"
Joy and excitement lit his face. He looked at the jars like Columbus sighting a new world.
Watching him, Jason smiled. "If you like them, I can give you some."
To him, they were precious, sure—but consumables. To a top chef like Kofu, they might be keys to a new culinary frontier.
"Really?" Kofu's breathing quickened.
"Of course." Jason generously split each one in half, decanting them into containers Kofu provided.
Kofu accepted them with great care, as if cradling rare treasures. He didn't stand on ceremony; he only said, solemnly, "I'll remember this favor."
He tucked the jars away reverently and fell silent, already clearly drafting a dozen new recipes in his head.
The meal ended warm and satisfied. Everyone ate to their fill. Seeing the table cleared, Kofu grinned in delight.
"It's getting late; we should get going." Jason stood to take his leave.
"Wait," Kofu called, ducked into the kitchen, and came back with three items: the Cascarrafa Gym Badge, plus a white shell-shaped bell and a glistening droplet.
Shell Bell and Mystic Water.
He handed all three to Jason. "The badge you earned. As for these…" He met Jason's eyes, earnest. "Consider them payment for those Herba Mystica. Those seasonings will do wonders for my craft. Please accept this thanks."
Jason didn't refuse. Shell Bell restores HP on attack; Mystic Water boosts Water moves—both very useful.
"Much appreciated," he said, taking them. Toying with the Mystic Water, a mischievous smile tugged his lips. "Perfect timing—I'm off to Medali to challenge Larry next. I'll thank you in advance on his behalf for the generous gift."
Kofu blinked. Larry—Medali's "perfectly average salaryman." Of course he knew him. Larry's perpetually bored face popped into mind, followed by today's lopsided match. He could picture it: the man who just wants to clock out on time, meeting this challenger. What a look that'd be.
The corner of Kofu's mouth twitched. He sighed, then cast a sympathetic glance toward Medali, silently offering Larry a moment of mourning.
Medali's air always carried the smell of food. The Paldea gourmet capital's cobbled streets were lined with restaurants—from century-old institutions to trendy molecular hot spots. Tradition and modernity mingled here, creating its own rhythm of life.
Today, that rhythm had an extra buzz. Small streaming drones buzzed overhead, lenses trained toward the town gate. Passersby glanced up now and then, whispering:
"He here yet? That talking Ditto?"
"Almost. The stream just showed him entering town."
"Wild—Ditto gym runs, all wins, and now he's in Medali."
"Not just talking—supposedly busted strong. He flattened earlier gyms with a single Pokémon."
"Really? That's insane."
Through the chatter, a purple, futuristic bike drifted into view—Miraidon—moving far more slowly than its sleek looks suggested, puttering along the cobbles. Perched on its head was a soft, pink-lilac blob: Jason. He stayed in Ditto form, gently bobbing with Miraidon's steps, looking thoroughly at ease. The warm sun made him drowsy.
"Jason, Jason! Hear that? They're talking about me!"
Gast's excited voice piped up beside him. She hovered close, almost pressing against him, pointing at the crowd with an irrepressibly smug face. Being the center of attention? Her favorite.
"They're talking about me, not you," Jason corrected lazily without opening his eyes.
"What's the difference? Talking about you is talking about me," she said, righteous. "We're a team! And I crushed those gym matches, remember!"
"Yes, yes—you're the strongest," he humored her. He was used to her daily victory laps. Gast was great at many things—and loved the spotlight, always itching to show off.
"Hmph—what's with that attitude?" She poked his side with a tiny hand. "For today's gym, I'm going in first! I want all of Paldea to see who's the strongest Ghost!"
Jason didn't answer immediately.
On the other side, Iron Valiant followed in silence; since entering Medali he hadn't said a word, eyes forward, deaf to the buzz. Miraidon muttered inwardly, "Here we go again." A legend by birth, it should've scoffed at small-time theatrics—but after traveling with Jason it had become the designated driver and nanny, hauling a Ditto while shepherding a noisy Gengar and a taciturn swordsman through crowded streets. Sometimes it missed the freedom of Area Zero. Then again… this noisy life wasn't so bad. At least it wasn't tense.
They threaded through the crowd to the gym's door—only to find a bustling restaurant. The sign read "Treasure Eatery," savory aromas curling out and tugging at appetites. No typical gym insignia, just a small placard: "Gym challengers welcome."
"What the—gym or diner?" Gast buzzed at the entrance. "Do we get fed if we win? Like that Kofu uncle?"
Jason hopped down from Miraidon, patted its neck to wait outside. "Let's take a look."
He led Gast and Iron Valiant in. Inside was spacious; diners and would-be challengers mixed together. The air was thick with grilled meat and sauce; servers threaded through tables—orderly, calm. Nothing like any gym he'd seen—no stern atmosphere, no bristling stand-off. More like a community canteen where Trainers rested and chatted.
As Jason scanned the room, a man hurried up—white shirt, tie, hair perfectly combed, and an expression that screamed "overworked." Dark circles, the aura of a salaryman catching the last train home.
"Hello—are you the challenger Jason?" he asked, polite, even a little wary.
Jason nodded. "That's me."
The man visibly relaxed and put on a practiced smile. "Great. I'm the Medali Gym Leader—my name is Larry. Welcome."
"You're the gym leader?" Gast floated up and looked him up and down, dubious. In her mind, leaders were musclebound beasts or towering auras. This half-awake office worker didn't look like he could fight.
Jason relayed her doubt. Larry didn't bat an eye—clearly he'd done his homework. He pushed his glasses up and gave a weary smile. "Yes, that's me. I know, I know—sorry to disappoint. I do have a full-time job, so… you get it."
Jason found him interesting. He could feel a calm born from being repeatedly hammered by life. People like that were either truly weak—or truly strong, with power tucked away.
"We're ready; we can start anytime," Jason said.
"Alright, this way."
Larry led them through the dining room to a dedicated arena in back—standard and well-equipped. The stands already had a crowd, drawn by word and smells. Seeing Jason, they erupted:
"Jason! Jason's here!"
"Ditto is so cool!"
"What'll he turn into today? Can't wait!"
Drones swooped overhead to stream it live.
At the ref's table, Larry slipped off his suit jacket and rolled his shoulders. Facing Jason again, the tired look lingered—but a Trainer's focus had joined it.
"Before we start, one question?" Larry said lightly. "You're not planning to go through all my Pokémon with just one of yours again, are you?"
The room—and the stream—went quiet for a beat. All eyes on Jason. That 1vN style had become his signature—spectacular, oppressive, and a massive draw. Everyone wondered if the myth would continue in Medali.
Meeting their gaze, Jason nodded calmly. "Why not?"
The place—and countless livestreams—exploded.
"He said it—classic 1vN declaration!"
"Crazy—love that energy!"
"Larry's gonna have a headache."
"This'll be good!"
Chat flooded; gift effects plastered the screen.
"You heard him! Jason said it—send me in!" Gast squealed, zipping up and hugging him, rubbing her cheek against his jelly body.
"Say yes—let me in! I'll show them what absolute power looks like! I'll mop the floor with the other side today!"
~~~
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