No one can convince me that Ash Ketchum isn’t a chocolate enjoyer idc that he chose the vanilla ice cream that one time
I think he just likes food
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Skipping way ahead, at some point Kukui winds up in the hands of Alola’s favorite rising cook: Mallow! She found him dragging himself home after a tiresome flight from Kalos to Alola as a garchomp. This student was ecstatic to see her professor alive; he had been missing for over a week! Lana let her in on Kukui’s story beforehand. So far the girls and Lana’s family are the only Alolans who know.
She takes him back to her restaurant, tells her dad, and Kukui is given food and rest. Ah, being held. Kukui feels so beyond mishandled now, he numbly accepts Mallow holding him. His bigger concern is her next question:
“So about your alcremie cream,” Mallow curiously bit her bottom lip, setting Kukui near a plate of pancakes.
“No.”
“Please?”
“Please, no.”
“I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is my first time seeing an alcremie and—and”—her eyes sparkled as she clenched her fists—“professor, I wanna know what you taste like!”
“You’re making this weird!” Kukui threw up his nubs for hands, red with embarrassment.
“I’m talking about food. You’re making this weird. You look like chocolate, and there’s a perfectly good plate of pancakes. C’mon, you’re the move professor! Just a tiny bit?” Mallow asked.
“You may be a unique flavor, Professor. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want a taste as well, but you should leave him alone, Mallow,” Mallow’s father chuckled, stepping in and placing a stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
“Every form I take is brown. If anything, I probably just taste like spoiled matcha,” Kukui grumbled, shying away from the flapjacks and hiding behind a tall pot.
“Aw, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Mallow moved the pot aside a little, peeking at him. Kukui couldn’t blame her for being curious. On a brighter day for him, he would have happily experimented with this body and let folks have a taste of his cream. For now he just wanted to feel human, and this was not a conversation a normal man would have with literally anyone. “I’m sorry,” Mallow said, offering him a piece of the pancake, which he gratefully took and nibbled on.
“It’s ok. It’s just been hard,” Kukui sighed, wiping away a dribble of cream from his cheek. Likely a teardrop, but they wouldn’t know the difference. Kukui let more spill down as the exhaustion and anxiety from his torture thus far hit him like an incineroar’s double kick.
“Mallow, could you take these to table three?” Abe asked his daughter with a smile, presenting a tray of steaming breakfast foods. She nodded, quickly fulfilling the task. In the moment of his daughter’s absence, Abe moved the pot aside and put a comforting hand on Kukui’s back as the professor quietly began to sob. Abe gently stopped the alcremie from trying to wipe away the gloppy tears of cream melting down his contorted face. “Everything will be alright. Rest, Makoa, and decompress,” Abe said, draping a soft bistro napkin around his shaking shoulders.
Kukui pulled it over his head as well, leaning against the tile backsplash of their kitchen countertop. Someday he would make it up to Mallow and present her with an actual alcremie for her pancakes. For now, he’d keep whatever flavor he was to himself, only sharing it with the countertop as his tears continued to pour like drizzle on a confection.
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