"Looks like my guess was right."
Jason stared at the ghostly-glowing curved spoon, stunned for a beat—then joy surged through him. He carefully picked it up.
A strong psychic energy flowed from the spoon into his body through his paw.
Nice.
"I heard them saying it 'wasn't finished'—turns out it was."
He turned the Twisted Spoon over and over, delighted. This thing boosts Psychic-type move power by 20%.
He eyed the surrounding spoons—flattened into metal biscuits, total junk—and thought back to Bronzor's rendezvous with the Hypno. A bold theory clicked into place.
"Oh, I get it."
Bronzor had been guarding this spot to manufacture Twisted Spoons. The Hypno gathered spoons from outside as raw material.
Honestly, he was surprised. He'd thought most items in the Pokémon world were made by humans. Turns out wild Pokémon can forge too.
"So that means…" his look turned wry, "our little 'intervention' interrupted the process—and it didn't realize it had already finished one?"
If Gast hadn't baited it out, it would've completed the last step, confirmed the spoon, and left immediately with the item—no time wasted on them.
He happily stashed the loot and climbed back up the tunnel he'd dug.
…
Poking his head out, he found Gast and Tinkatuff locked in a stare-off, neither yielding.
They turned to him together when he emerged. He shifted from Yungoos back to Ditto, said nothing, and waggled the Twisted Spoon in front of them.
Message clear: this prize came from the three of them driving off Bronzong. Time to discuss "splitting the spoils."
Their reactions surprised him.
TANG!
Tinkatuff didn't even look at the spoon—she thumped her hammer on the ground with a clear ring.
"I prefer this."
In other words, Zero interest in a Psychic-boosting trinket.
Gast was even more dramatic: at the very sight of the spoon, she recoiled several steps, full-body cringe. "I hate that thing! It reeks just like that stupid bell! Gross!"
He blinked, then stopped insisting. If neither wanted it, he'd be "rude" and keep it. His body rippled, and he tucked the spoon safely inside, next to the Wide Lens.
With the divvy-up done, the air quieted. Bronzong had fled; their temporary alliance seemed over.
Next second, Gast flicked wary eyes, then ducked behind Jason, peeking out with open hostility at Tinkatuff.
"Hey! Now that the big problem's gone, you're gonna take a swing at us, aren't you?"
At that, Jason, too, eyed Tinkatuff warily. Their relationship hadn't exactly been friendly.
Tinkatuff's pink face twisted into an exasperated are you serious look.
Paranoia much?
She didn't even bother with a stance—just planted the giant hammer on the floor with a sigh. "When did I say I'd attack you?"
Gast blinked, still bristling. "Then why were you chasing me around before? Don't think I forgot!"
Tinkatuff's helplessness deepened. Communication with this single-track ghost was hopeless. She turned to the more sensible-looking Ditto.
"Hey, Ditto—be the judge."
She laid out everything from the start: when the smiths first moved in, they tried to get along with the local ghost. More friends, more paths; better to be neighbors than enemies.
But this one was so obnoxious.
Their life revolves around forging—work that needs focus and quiet. Gast would lick freshly forged hammer heads with Lick, flash-cooling the metal into scrap—or pop out Will-O-Wisp to spook the timid Tinkatink mid-work. Constant pranks wrecked their workflow and peace.
So Tinkatuff had taught the rude gremlin a lesson—again and again.
Gast froze. Guilt crept into her eyes.
"S… so that's true?"
"No kidding," Tinkatuff huffed. "If I actually wanted you gone, with your strength you'd have been mush ages ago. You think I'd let you bounce around here every day?"
The ghost went mute. Thinking back, it added up. Tinkatuff had looked scary, but never actually went for the kill.
She looked to Jason—her friend now.
He nodded. "She's right. With her power, if she wanted you down, you'd have been down."
Deflated, Gast sagged. Jason could only smile wryly—so that's why they didn't get along.
He decided to be the peacemaker.
"Uh, Gast—how about apologizing? I think they'll forgive you."
"Keh?"
She pouted. Apologize to that pink bruiser who chased her? Where was the dignity?
But seeing the floppy Ditto, she dropped it. Che wouldn't steer me wrong.
She drifted forward and, in a mosquito-small voice, mumbled, "Keh, I'm… I'm sorry…"
Tinkatuff glanced at Jason, then nodded. As she'd said—more friends, more roads—and she had no desire to cross this peculiar Ditto. The ghost hadn't hurt them, after all—just popped out to spook and fish for attention.
Right then, a small pink figure came sprinting from a distant mine tunnel—Tinkatink—and yelped in panic to Tinkatuff:
"Boss! Bad news! A bunch of long-nosed yellow guys are here to bust up the place!"