The Wild Area of the Galar region looked gloomy under an overcast sky. Heavy clouds hung low overhead, and the air was filled with that damp, pre-rain smell.
They were deep in the tall grass near Route 5.
A streak of violet ghostfire cut through the dim air—Ceruledge's signature glow, carrying a dead-cold chill.
Jason was currently in Ceruledge form.
Across from him, the Sirfetch'd had clearly reached its limit. The duck Pokémon, gripping a huge leek stalk as its weapon, was panting hard. Its white feathers were smeared with scorched black marks, and there was a deep slash carved into its leek shield.
Sirfetch'd shouted and tried to launch one last charge. It raised the leek sword—longer than its own body. Its steps wobbled, but its gaze remained razor-sharp.
That was the chivalry unique to Galar: even when exhausted to the brink, it would never retreat.
Jason didn't step back.
He didn't even take a defensive stance.
At the instant the leek sword was about to pierce his breastplate, Jason shifted sideways—barely. No flashy dodge, no wasted motion, just the exact angle needed to slip off the line of attack.
Then the violet arm-blade flicked upward.
There was no violent clash. No ear-splitting explosion.
Only a crisp sound—steel severing plant fibers.
Sirfetch'd's leek sword snapped into two.
The duck froze, staring at the half-leek still in its hands. The light in its eyes dimmed fast, and then it toppled backward stiffly, losing the ability to battle.
Jason dismissed the flames along his arm-blade. A strange glow washed over his body. The long, sharp armored form began to melt and collapse, and within two seconds he had turned back into a lump of purple slime.
That was Jason's true body: a Ditto.
He squirmed, two dot eyes and a simple mouth surfacing on his face, then bounced—like a springy jelly—over to the unconscious Sirfetch'd.
He extended part of his body and rummaged around beside it with practiced ease, then sighed in disappointment.
"Another one not carrying the leek baton. Is the drop rate seriously this low?"
Muttering, Jason sprang back to the open patch by the roadside.
Not far away, his three "guardians" were waiting in their own ways.
Gast hovered half a meter off the ground. This Gengar didn't hide like most Ghost-types—she boldly exposed her round purple body to the air, even licking the moisture in the atmosphere out of boredom.
Seeing Jason revert, Gast rolled her eyes and spun in midair.
"Jason, that was the thirtieth one." She floated above him and poked the purple blob beneath her with a short, chubby finger. "Do you have some kind of grudge against ducks? You're about to drive every Sirfetch'd in this grass patch to extinction."
A faint mechanical hum came from the side.
Iron Valiant sat cross-legged on a rock, its twin blades folded behind it. Its red electronic eyes flickered as it stared at Jason.
As a paradox Pokémon from the future, its logic processor clearly couldn't comprehend Jason's repetitive monster-grinding.
In its calculations, these fights didn't efficiently raise levels or yield rare resources—pure wasted work.
Meanwhile, Miraidon lay in the grass in Drive Mode, looking like a lethargic motorcycle. Its tail swished lazily, sweeping the surrounding weeds into a messy sprawl.
"I don't get it either," Miraidon yawned, electricity crackling in its throat. "But that leek in the duck's hand looks tasty. Jason, when are we eating? I want a sandwich—like, a lot of ham."
Jason wriggled and stretched himself longer, looking like a purple bowling pin.
"You don't get it. You'll understand later…" His voice sounded muffled and vague.
The fighting went on for the entire afternoon.
When the sunset finally pierced the heavy clouds and painted the Galar wilds in molten gold and red, Jason ended his "special training" at last, completely satisfied.
The "big one" he'd been waiting for really did show up—a Sirfetch'd noticeably larger than the rest, with a leek shield thick as a door panel.
This time Jason used Ceruledge form, and the two of them tangled for a full ten minutes.
He didn't use type-advantaged moves to delete it instantly. Instead, he traded pure swordplay against its leek lance—every collision spraying sparks and shredded plant fragments.
Sure, if he'd used skills, he could've one-shot Sirfetch'd.
But Jason was here to learn its combat technique, so he kept holding back.
In the end, he seized the moment when its old force was spent and its new force hadn't risen yet, and a Shadow Claw knocked the heavy leek flying.
Battle over.
There was no earth-shaking level-up effect. No legendary loot drop.
But Jason—back in Ditto form—looked ridiculously pleased.
He hummed a little tune all the way back to camp.
"So," Miraidon asked, watching Jason pack up, "what are you even after? That duck was just bigger. Didn't look special."
As he directed Iron Valiant to fold the tent, Jason gave a mysterious smile. His body—like purple jelly pudding—trembled slightly with the laugh.
"You'll know later."
"Tch." Gast floated above, tossing a few berries into her mouth and crunching loudly. "I hate riddle-people. Jason, you've gotten worse. You used to say what you meant."
"That's called maturing," Jason said. He stuffed the last piece of luggage into his space backpack, then wobbled and hopped onto Miraidon's back. His soft body automatically molded to Miraidon's curves, forming a natural seat cushion. "Alright. Galar special training: complete."
Iron Valiant silently moved to Miraidon's side. It didn't need rest or food—always at peak alert.
"Let's go. Wyndon Airport," Jason patted Miraidon's neck. "Next stop: Sinnoh."
…
Wyndon was still as bustling and noisy as ever. The massive Ferris wheel turned slowly beneath the sunset, and red double-decker buses threaded through ancient streets.
But Jason had no nostalgia for any of it.
In the terminal, he stayed in his original Ditto form, draped over Gast's head. It saved energy, and it also worked as a purple hat—though a pretty ridiculous-looking one.
Boarding. Takeoff.
Long flights were always dull.
Jason lay on the wide first-class armrest.
Gast floated in the seat beside him, flipping through a magazine—Sinnoh's food guide.
"Jason, where are we going next?" she asked without looking up, turning pages. "I've never been to Sinnoh. I hear it's cold, and there's a kind of bread called 'Fenxiang' that's really good?"
Jason watched the sea of clouds outside the window. The cabin lights reflected across his purple surface.
"Of course we're going to see Cynthia."
His tone was relaxed—like he was just dropping by a neighbor's house.
Gast stared at him. "Why? Catch up? Free food?"
Jason chuckled, his surface squeezing into a sly curve. "To challenge her, obviously."
The moment he said it, the air around them seemed to go quiet for a second.
At that time, Miraidon—resting on the carpet—lifted its head. It stretched its long neck over, curiosity on its face.
"Is Cynthia that girl from last time with the black coat?" Miraidon asked.
Its memory was actually pretty good—especially for the aura of strong opponents.
Of course, it mostly identified humans by clothes and scent. In its mind, that woman always wore a long black coat, with a scary-looking Garchomp at her side.
"Yep," Jason confirmed. "Sinnoh Champion Cynthia. The Cynthia I always call 'Cynthia-nee.'"
Miraidon's eyes lit up, its tail patting the carpet lightly. "Awesome. I want to challenge her Pokémon too! When I saw that Garchomp last time, I wanted to fight it. It looks fast—I want to see if my engine is faster, or if it flies faster."
"You don't want to fight—you want to street race," Gast shot back mercilessly. "And that Garchomp looks tough as nails. You sure your hadron engine can even budge it?"
"Speed is power," Miraidon argued. "If you're fast enough, there's nothing you can't smash through."
Jason cut them off. "Enough. This trip to Sinnoh is mainly to test what we've gained from training in Galar. Cynthia is widely recognized as a top-tier Champion—her team is extremely well-rounded, no obvious weak points. That's exactly the kind of opponent we need."
He paused, his eyes turning more serious.
"And I want to see… if we don't rely on flashy mechanics—if it's just raw strength—how far we can go."
Iron Valiant stood in the shadows by the seats and gave a small nod, as if it agreed with the phrase "raw strength."
"But Jason," Gast floated a little closer, lowering her voice, "Cynthia is strong. I've watched her match footage. Her Lucario and Garchomp are basically monsters. Are you sure we're going straight to kick down her door? Shouldn't we warm up on a few Gym Leaders first?"
"Going straight for the strongest is what makes it fun," Jason said nonchalantly, shaping his body into a clenched fist. "And I never said we have to win. Losing isn't embarrassing. If we lose, we come back and train more.
Besides, Cynthia-nee's a good person. She won't kill us."
"That's true," Gast thought for a moment, looking convinced. "At least she'll treat us to ice cream.
I heard Sinnoh's Moomoo Milk ice cream is unbeatable."
"You only think about food."
"Food is the foundation of life—ghosts have to eat too!"
The plane landed at Jubilife Airport in Sinnoh.
The moment they stepped out of the gate, a sharp cold hit them in the face. Sinnoh sat at a higher latitude; even in this season, the wind carried a clear bite.
Jason shrank a little. Ditto bodies were sensitive to temperature swings, and the low temperature made him feel stiff.
"So this is Sinnoh… yeah, it's cold."
He complained, then immediately hopped from the armrest onto Miraidon's back hood. Warmth radiated from it—like a built-in heater.
"Watch your image, Jason," Gast floated nearby, staring at the purple lump plastered on the motorcycle lizard. "This is the airport. Lots of people are watching."
"Let them watch. I'm a Pokémon—what am I scared of?" Jason sprawled into a pancake. "Comfort comes first."
The group of Pokémon walked out through arrivals.
The moment they exited the corridor, Jason saw the familiar figure.
Even in a crowd, Cynthia was an absolute focal point.
She wore her signature long black coat, the black fur at the collar trembling lightly in the breeze. Her golden hair fell naturally down her back, covering one eye. It didn't diminish her beauty—if anything, it added a mysterious, capable edge.
She hadn't brought many attendants. She simply stood there quietly, hands in her coat pockets, calmly watching the exit. When she saw Jason's group appear, the corners of her mouth lifted into a warm smile.
It was the kind of composure only a truly confident powerhouse possessed.
Jason patted Miraidon's head, signaling it to stop.
Then he sprang up and dove straight into Cynthia's arms.
"Cynthia-nee!"
Cynthia looked down at Jason, her smile deepening.
"Jason, welcome to Sinnoh."
Her voice was rich and magnetic—unhurried, soothing to listen to.
"Long time no see." She raised a hand and lightly patted Jason's body. "Looks like Galar treated you well. Your aura feels much more refined than last time."
"Of course. I fought a ton over there—felt like I got hollowed out. I came to Sinnoh to recharge off you, sis."
"Recharge?" Cynthia raised an eyebrow.
The next second, her cheeks flushed.
Because Jason started wriggling like crazy in her arms.
Even Cynthia—who'd seen it all—froze.
Wait. This is how you "recharge"?
Right then, Miraidon leaned in.
It pushed its huge dragon head toward Cynthia's face, sniffed twice, like it was confirming the scent.
"Black-coat girl. We're fighting."
Miraidon was offensively blunt.
Jason nearly choked, and hurriedly slapped Miraidon on the forehead. "Rude! Call her Cynthia-nee!"
Miraidon pulled its neck back, looking wronged. "You were the one who called her black-coat girl—"
Cynthia blinked, then laughed out loud.
She wasn't angry—in fact, she looked at Miraidon with amused interest.
Cynthia reached out and ran her fingers over Miraidon's smooth metallic skin, tracing the streamlined armor with her fingertips. "You want to challenge me? That's ambitious. But before that… shouldn't you fill your stomachs?"
She turned, her black coat drawing an elegant arc behind her.
"My car is waiting outside. Let's go to Hearthome City first—it's my hometown, and it's a good place for pre-match preparation." She glanced back at Jason. "Since you came to challenge me, I won't disappoint you. But as the host, I'm treating you to the first meal."
Gast flipped excitedly in midair. "Long live Cynthia-nee!"
Outside, Sinnoh's sky was a clear, pure blue.
The wind was still cold, but the sunlight on their bodies brought a long-missed sense of solid comfort.