Chapter 120: Learning to Make Malasadas

“Ridiculous, why do I have to join a club?”

After leaving the cafeteria, Takesui Han glanced at Dragon Rider, then placed Little Fairy Milk on Dragon Rider’s head so he could easily see both of them at once.

“Any suggestions?”

Dragon Rider and Little Fairy Milk exchanged puzzled looks.

“Boohoo.”

It’s you who wants to join a club, not us. You should decide this yourself.

“Milou.”

Trainer, you’re not a kid anymore. It’s time to have your own opinions. You can’t rely on me and the big sister for everything.

Takesui Han blinked. What are you two little creatures talking about?

“This just came up suddenly. Whatever club you suggest, I’m not prepared for it.”

If he were to join one, it would definitely be the eSports club—a straightforward gaming club.

But the problem was, Joy Academy didn’t have an eSports club. In fact, the Pokémon world hadn’t developed large-scale, systematized games yet, let alone eSports.

“Should I start an eSports club myself?”

Takesui Han shook his head. Whose eSports club needs the president to go around recruiting both people and Pokémon to make games first?

“Alright, that’s clearly a dead end.”

He naturally skipped the popular battle and martial arts clubs. Not just him; even Little Fairy Milk had no interest.

In her words, the opponents weren’t strong enough. That time was better spent figuring out how to deal effective damage to trainers themselves.

“Hmm, suddenly this club looks like it suits me perfectly.”

Takesui Han’s gaze landed on the name of a club. Its emblem showed a large pot centered with a knife and fork behind it—somewhat like an alternative version of a pirate flag.

“The Cooking Club, it’s you.”

Go learn some new skills at New East, then come back and make extra meals for the little ones.

That afternoon, all the Joy Academy students who came for club activities instinctively looked toward the cooking counter, where a white-haired monkey stood upright.

He looked just like a chef awaiting judges’ scores in a cooking competition.

What was he doing here?

By now, Takesui Han’s reputation had long surpassed being just a first-year student. Everyone in the academy, except for those in the back mountains, knew about the fierce student.

He could poison and knock out classmates, take down an entire dark team in one pot, rank near the top academically, and had already produced two research achievements: the Potion Plan and Dragon Gate Potion.

How could such a person be here in the Cooking Club?

Could it be that some student accidentally offended some evil characters, and the academy sent him over as a bodyguard?

“All right, everyone. Focusing too much attention on new members can be troublesome,” the Cooking Club president clapped his hands.

“We have a new member today, so I hope everyone brings their best effort to show Takesui Han what the Cooking Club’s skills are.”

“Today's cooking topic is a brand-new food from a relatively distant region.”

Joy smiled. “This food is called Malasada. You can think of it as a type of fried bread.”

“Similar to steamed buns or dumplings, Malasada’s filling can vary in flavor, depending on personal creativity.”

Takesui Han’s expression flickered. Malasada, huh.

As everyone knew, in the pursuit to capture Ash’s Pikachu, Team Rocket had no steady income and worked odd jobs here and there.

But in the Alola region, they had the Malasada food truck business, which was quite successful.

Malasada was also a favorite food of that chubby kid, Mamane.

Fried bread was essentially a crispy exterior with a soft, fragrant interior. One bite produced a satisfying crunch, and the aroma of bread was intensified by the hot oil.

In principle, it was somewhat similar to a flatbread wrapped around fillings, sweet or savory depending on taste.

Even a slightly bitter matcha flavor was acceptable.

The dough in the Cooking Club was prepared in advance by members. Because of the temporary monkey member applying to join, the president divided his dough into two portions for Takesui Han.

“Thanks, president. After making the Malasada, do we eat them ourselves or have a tasting session?”

The president smiled: “You can make two with the same flavor, then place one on the serving table so everyone can taste each other’s skills.”

“Of course, if your two Malasadas have different flavors, just split them between the two kinds.”

Joy students had intense daily lessons and exercise, so even though Malasadas were calorie bombs, there was no risk of gaining weight.

At least, they wouldn’t become like Mamane.

What filling to use—that was a serious question.

Takesui Han thought for a moment: “President, has anyone ever made Malasadas filled with energy cubes?”

Just as he prepared to show off his skills at the cooking station, the president stopped mid-step.

?

Energy cube filling?

Do you realize how terrifying that sounds?

The white-haired monkey saw his expression and knew something was wrong. “If energy cubes aren’t possible, how about a Smoothen filling?”

Those nearby all looked horrified.

Oh no, there might be a kitchen monster specializing in dark cuisine in the club!

“Well, it’s not impossible. But frying at high temperatures might damage the structure of energy cubes, causing loss of nutritional value.”

The president chose his words carefully. “The same goes for Smoothen. If you want to try that idea, you could attempt jam-filled Malasadas.”

Got it. It seemed no one had tried that before.

Takesui Han nodded in thanks and stared blankly at the dough. He trusted the president’s craftsmanship; there was nothing wrong with the dough.

Little Fairy Milk and Dragon Rider were still playing outside, or else he could try some fresh ideas.

Forget it; better to follow advice and make some simple berry Malasadas.

He rolled the dough twice in his hands. The texture wasn’t as good as Little Fairy Milk’s.

He laid out the nearby berries: Mango Peach, Biba Fruit, and Grapefruit.

One was purely sweet, the other a sweet and sour blend.

He crushed the berries, mixed them with Moo Moo milk, and adjusted the ratio until it became a thick paste, with no additives.

The president had been quietly observing Takesui Han and nodded approvingly. The technique was right, and the filling ratio wasn’t strange.

Looks like Takesui Han wasn’t a kitchen monster, just had an unusual palate.

As for whether his mind was abnormal—she felt it wasn’t kind to say so. He just thought differently, but not crazily so.

After shaping the dough into the desired form, he filled it with the milk and berry paste. When cooking for himself, he preferred thin crusts and generous filling, never stingy with ingredients.

The enticing sound of frying began. Takesui Han glanced around and gently placed his creations into the oil, carefully stirring the Malasadas.

The aroma spread, and outside the Cooking Club, a group of Pokémon waited eagerly, their faces filled with delight at the smell wafting from the classroom.

As usual, there would be a lucky tasting session later; these little foodies awaited that moment.

Taking out the Malasadas, which looked not much different from dorayaki, Takesui Han felt a surge of emotion.

Five years. Do you know how I’ve spent these five years?

As a humanoid power bank of the Magic Ban version, he finally held a finished product that wasn’t shaped like a dumpling!

He even worried that his product might turn out to be a giant glutinous rice ball.

There’s hope! I still have hope!

Takesui Han calmed himself, picked up a knife, and sliced the Malasada in half. The filling slowly oozed out onto the plate, mixing the fried aroma with rich fruit and milk scents.

Golden and plump, the knife’s crisp cut sounded a satisfying crunch. The crispy shell and soft interior signified a successful Malasada.

The filling’s berry and milk fragrance blended well yet remained distinct—an excellent core for the Malasada.

In short, this was a Malasada with a graceful appearance and a cultured heart.

“Everyone, bring your finished products to the front,” the president smiled. “It’s time to invite our little guests inside.”

Takesui Han looked outside, and a Pokémon suddenly leapt up excitedly.

“Nazo, Nazo!”

That silly creature?

He glanced at the president, who gave consent, then beckoned. The walking grass Pokémon eagerly jumped onto Takesui Han’s arm, happily brushing the white-haired monkey’s cheek with its leaves.

“Ticklish—wait patiently.”

Takesui Han asked, “President, do you have more ingredients in the classroom? I want to make some for the little ones outside. Of course, I’ll cover the cost.”

The president looked a bit puzzled. “We do, but can you handle it all?”

“Well, I was just worried about messing up and going slow. Once I’m familiar, I won’t worry about that.”

Takesui Han rolled up his sleeves. “Watch my performance, everyone. I just joined the club; I have to show my skills.”

In game groups, you can pretend to be a newbie to deceive others, or you can reveal your rank and show that, while not a pro, you’re at least strong.

Then, the club members and the Pokémon waiting outside witnessed a cooking process like “thunder and lightning.”

Fast and voluminous, it seemed the monkey’s hands moved in afterimages. Without a fighter’s physique, this wouldn’t be possible.

During frying, Takesui Han wasn’t left to do it alone; the president organized the Pokémon outside to sit in rows, waiting to be fed.

“You cook fast, but your quality is also high. How do you manage that?” the president was curious. “Normally, only chefs who spend years in the kitchen master such skills.”

“Uh, maybe because of the workload,” Takesui Han wiped his hands, feeling a bit complicated.

“At home, there are three big eaters. If I can’t ensure both quality and quantity while speeding up, they wouldn’t have enough to eat.”

Joy students: ?

“Three big eaters? But I heard your partners are Dragon Rider and Little Fairy Milk, which are Pokémon from the Galar region.”

Subtext: Even those little ones eat a lot?

“Yeah.”

Takesui Han finished and patted the leaf on the little silly grass Pokémon beside him.

“Well, today’s total amount of Malasadas probably wouldn’t even be enough for one meal at my house.”

Huh?

(End of chapter)