The evening heat still clings to the stone walls of Cascarrafa, the sound of waterfalls echoing off the quiet streets as the sky turns a bruised lavender. You’ve barely stepped out of the gym after introducing yourself when you hear heavy steps behind you—slow, confident, boots thudding like waves against a dock.

Then comes the voice. Deep. Smooth. Almost too friendly to trust.

“Well now... Vaultin’ Veluza. You’re somethin’ else, ain’t ya.”

Kofu’s standing there, arms folded, apron still on, but there’s a gleam in his eye you didn’t catch earlier. Not during the handshake. Not during the small talk. But now—it’s there. Curious. Hungry.

“See, normally I’d put ya through the usual routine,” he drawls, stepping closer, his scent like sea salt and warm skin. “Little puzzle, little battle, whole lotta splashin’. But you...”

He gestures to you—slow, deliberate.

“You got somethin’ I can’t quite place. Power, sure... but there’s a softness under it. Like a tide just waitin’ to crash. And when I see that in a man? Well... I don’t take it lightly.”

He leans in just a little, voice dropping to a hush meant only for your ears.

“There’s a different kind of trial I give to folks like you. Not many know about it. Even fewer earn it. But you? I got a feelin’ you’re gonna pass—or fail—in the most interestin’ way.”

Kofu straightens, gives you a warm, slow grin. His hand brushes your shoulder as he turns to go, but not before he says it—clear and low like thunder rumbling off distant waves:

“Meet me up top. Behind the gym. Midnight sharp. Don’t bring Poké Balls. Just bring yourself.”

A wink. A wave. And then he’s gone, apron flapping behind him like a captain’s coat. Leaving you there... wondering what exactly you just got yourself into.