The Trainer Support Hub was a cozy space filled with resources. Shelves lined with Pokédex devices, guides to Gym challenges, and models of PokéBalls gave the room a practical yet inviting feel. The scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hum of a Rotom-powered projector displaying footage of recent League matches.

  Isabelle took a seat on one of the plush chairs, fingers tightening around Azzy’s PokéBall. The weight of the tiny device in her palm should have been reassuring, but instead, it felt heavier than usual. Her leg bounced in nervous anticipation.

  The door clicked open, and Professor Ardene stepped inside, exuding an air of quiet authority. She carried a tablet, which she set down on the desk before sitting across from Isabelle. “Thank you for waiting,” she said, her tone professional. “Let’s get started.”

  The sudden formality put Isabelle on edge. Oh great, it’s an interview. Fabulous. Can’t wait to bomb this.

  “Tell me, Isabelle,” Ardene began, folding her hands neatly, “why do you want to become a Trainer?”

  Isabelle froze. “I—well, it’s not exactly—” She stammered, her thoughts racing. Why do I want to be a Trainer? Do I even want to? Or is this just what everyone expects?

  A flicker of movement. A presence just over her shoulder. She didn’t turn, but she felt it—the faint whisper of her subconscious projection.

  You don’t even know why you’re here, do you?

  Azzy chirped, nudging her wrist. Isabelle took a shaky breath. “I guess… I want to see what’s out there. And… prove to myself that I can do it.”

  Ardene studied her for a long moment. Isabelle squirmed under her gaze. “What’s holding you back?” the Professor asked finally.

  “I don’t know,” Isabelle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I’m afraid I’ll fail. That I’m not good enough.”

  Ardene’s expression softened slightly. She leaned forward. “Failure is part of the journey. Every great Trainer has stumbled. What matters is what you do after you fall. Do you give up? Or do you try again?”

  Isabelle’s throat tightened. She looked down at Azzy, who gazed back at her with unwavering trust. She believes in me. Why can’t I believe in myself?

  Ardene continued, her tone gentle but firm. “You have potential, Isabelle. I can see it in the bond you have with Azzy. But only you can decide if you’re ready to take the first step.”

  A flicker of determination settled in her chest. “I… I think I want to try,” she said, her voice steadier now.

  “Good,” Ardene said with a nod. “But first, there’s something else we need to discuss.”

  The conversation shifted to the League Circuit.

  “The League is more than Gym challenges,” Ardene explained. “It’s a structured journey designed to test and shape you—strategically, emotionally, and physically. Trainers face eight Gym Leaders before earning the right to challenge the Elite Four and, ultimately, the Champion. However, the League isn’t just about battles. It’s about the relationships you build, the lessons you learn, and the Trainer you become.”

  Isabelle nodded slowly. So, it’s less about winning and more about growing? Awesome. I’m already failing step one by not knowing if I even want to start.

  “Fear and doubt are normal,” Ardene added, as if reading her mind. “But a real Trainer learns to make decisions even without certainty.”

  The words lingered, echoing in Isabelle’s head. She wasn’t sure why, but something about them unsettled her.

  A news billboard outside the window flickered, displaying a clip of Amelia Cross, a rising League star. “Doubt is always there,” the young woman said in an interview, her Sceptile looming behind her. “It’s never about not being scared—it’s about doing it anyway.”

  Isabelle swallowed hard. People with doubts still succeed.

  Ardene moved on, discussing Pokémon care and trust.

  “That brings me to Pokémon care and training. I can see that you and Azzy already share a strong bond. That trust is your foundation, Isabelle. Without it, you won’t get far.”

  Isabelle blinked, caught off guard. “You can tell?”

  “Of course. Pokémon aren’t just tools for battling; they’re partners who see potential in us, even when we don’t see it ourselves.”

  Azzy hopped onto the desk, tiny face glowing with pride. Isabelle couldn’t help but grin. Look at her, all confident and ready to take on the world. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to pass out.

  Near the end of the conversation, as Ardene offered her contact information, Isabelle hesitated. Her fingers curled around the edge of her bag. The encrypted drive.

  The presence behind her stirred again, a whisper in the back of her mind.

  You shouldn’t tell her.

  Her throat tightened. She should just keep it. Figure it out later. She wasn’t ready for whatever this meant.

  But Azzy nudged her hand, chirping softly. Isabelle exhaled and, before she could overthink it, reached into her bag.

  “Actually, there’s one more thing.”

  She placed the drive on the desk. Ardene’s expression sharpened.

  “I found this—well, it kind of… fell into my lap.” Isabelle fidgeted. “Milo and I were at the Lumora Library a while back. We ran into this guy—super sketchy. He dropped this when he bolted.”

  Ardene picked up the drive, turning it over. “Did he say anything?”

  “Not much. Just muttered something about ‘Team Eclipse’ before disappearing.”

  Ardene’s expression remained unreadable. She plugged the drive into her tablet, fingers moving swiftly as she accessed its contents. Lines of encrypted data scrolled across the screen, and a faint frown crossed her face.

  “I can confirm your suspicions,” she said after a pause. “This contains references to the Forces of Nature—Tornadus, Thundurus, and Landorus. There are redacted files from three years ago, around the time of the Leaflink Hamlet incident.”

  Isabelle stiffened. “So… it’s important?”

  “Important—and dangerous,” Ardene said. “This is better off in my hands. But I understand if you and Milo were using it for research.”

  “We, uh… kind of needed it for a school project,” Isabelle admitted sheepishly.

  Ardene considered this, then nodded. “I can provide a copy of what isn’t classified. Enough for your project, but nothing that would put you in danger.”

  Relief flooded Isabelle’s chest. “That… that works. Thanks, Professor.”

  “Just remember, Isabelle,” Ardene said, sliding the drive back into her possession. “If you ever cross paths with Team Eclipse again—don’t engage. Report it immediately.”

  Isabelle swallowed hard. “Got it.”

  Ardene nodded, her gaze lingering on Isabelle for a moment longer. “You’ve been in Lumora for almost a month now, haven’t you?”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Isabelle blinked. “Uh, yeah. Feels like longer, though.”

  “That’s how beginnings often feel,” Ardene said with a faint smile. “But at some point, you have to decide if you’re taking the next step. You don’t need to have all the answers, but waiting forever won’t bring them any closer.”

  Isabelle exhaled, the weight of the decision pressing against her chest. She glanced at Azzy, who chirped encouragingly.

  “If you’re ready,” Ardene continued, “visit the League HQ. Register officially. You already have a Pokémon, so there’s no need to take the exam at the school to receive a starter.”

  “So that’s how it works?” Isabelle asked, curiosity cutting through her hesitation. “Go to school, pass the exam, get a starter from you, then register?”

  “Correct,” Ardene confirmed. “But in your case, since you already have a Pokémon, you can skip straight to registration.”

  A copy of the decrypted data transferred to Isabelle’s VireBand, restricted to details about the Forces of Nature—their abilities, mythology, and scattered sightings. But anything about their involvement in the Leaflink Hamlet incident? Missing. Redacted. So much for Milo’s efforts to piece it together.

  Unknown to her, Milo had already secured his own copy. Somewhere, deep in his VireBand’s encrypted files, the full truth waited to be discovered.

  With the business wrapped up, the doors to the lab opened, and Isabelle stepped back onto the bustling streets of Lumora City. She wasn’t heading to the League HQ just yet—but the idea wasn’t as daunting as it had been before. Maybe she really could do this.

  The city was alive with motion. Drones zipped by overhead, delivering parcels marked with the VireTech logo, while Pokémon like Magnemite floated lazily, powering streetlights with their electromagnetic fields. Billboards flashed advertisements for everything from Ultra Balls to PokéMart sales, and a nearby crosswalk briefly paused to let a herd of Mareep pass, their fluffy wool gleaming under the sun.

  Isabelle tugged her bag closer, glancing at Azzy, who was staring wide-eyed at everything around them. “It’s a bit much, huh, Azzy?” she muttered. Not gonna lie, I feel like a Lillipup in the middle of a Rapidash race.

  She passed by a vendor selling skewers of spicy curry, the scent wafting temptingly through the air. After a moment of hesitation, she bought one, breaking off a tiny piece for Azzy to try. The Azurill’s nose twitched curiously before she sneezed, her tail wobbling from the sudden spice.

  Isabelle chuckled despite herself. “Yeah, maybe spicy isn’t your thing.”

  She continued walking, her pace leisurely as she took in the city. The familiar buzz of Starlight Plaza drew her in next, a hub of activity where Trainers gathered for friendly battles, and children splashed around the fountain. She leaned on the railing of a makeshift battle ring, watching a Jolteon dart circles around a Machoke. The synergy between Trainer and Pokémon was seamless, a perfect partnership in motion.

  That’s the kind of bond Ardene was talking about. Maybe… maybe we could do that too someday.

  The thought stayed with her as she made her way to the Pokémon Center. She hesitated near the counter, fingers brushing Azzy’s PokéBall. Should I? She’s fine, right? Do they think I’m a bad Trainer if I check for no reason?

  She glanced at the posted fees. Without an official Trainer ID, checkups weren’t free—there was a charge for unregistered Trainers. Isabelle swallowed hard, realizing she couldn’t afford it. Her father’s small-town allowance covered snacks and little extras, not medical fees. Rules were rules.

  With a sigh, she stepped back. "Guess we’re holding off on that, Azzy," she murmured. Azzy tilted her head but chirped understandingly.

  The city was alive with motion. Drones zipped by overhead, delivering parcels marked with the VireTech logo, while Pokémon like Magnemite floated lazily, powering streetlights with their electromagnetic fields. Billboards flashed advertisements for everything from Ultra Balls to PokéMart sales, and a nearby crosswalk briefly paused to let a herd of Mareep pass, their fluffy wool gleaming under the sun.

  Isabelle tugged her bag closer, glancing at Azzy, who was staring wide-eyed at everything around them. “It’s a bit much, huh, Azzy?” she muttered. Not gonna lie, I feel like a Lillipup in the middle of a Rapidash race.

  She passed by a vendor selling skewers of spicy curry, the scent wafting temptingly through the air. After a moment of hesitation, she bought one, breaking off a tiny piece for Azzy to try. The Azurill’s nose twitched curiously before she sneezed, her tail wobbling from the sudden spice.

  Isabelle chuckled despite herself. “Yeah, maybe spicy isn’t your thing.”

  She continued walking, her pace leisurely as she took in the city. The tech-infused hum of Lumora was everywhere—small Rotom-powered drones zipped by, delivering parcels stamped with the VireTech logo. A security officer and their Growlithe patrolled the market district, their sharp gazes scanning the crowd. Nearby, a Pidgeot-operated aerial courier service advertised express deliveries, while a food cart run by a chatty Pansage handed out PokéPuffs to customers.

  Transportation in the city was diverse—bikes and electric scooters filled the streets, but larger roads still carried the occasional hover-vehicle or traditional car. Most people walked, the city built to accommodate foot traffic. Isabelle had never minded that; it gave her time to think. The familiar buzz of Starlight Plaza drew her in next, a hub of activity where Trainers gathered for friendly battles, and children splashed around the fountain. She leaned on the railing of a makeshift battle ring, watching a Pachirisu dart circles around a Machoke. The synergy between Trainer and Pokémon was seamless, a perfect partnership in motion.

  That’s the kind of bond Ardene was talking about. Maybe… maybe we could do that too someday.

  The thought stayed with her as she made her way to the Pokémon Center. She hesitated near the counter, fingers brushing Azzy’s PokéBall. Should I? She’s fine, right? But… would it even matter?

  She glanced at the posted fees. Without an official Trainer ID, checkups weren’t free—there was a charge for unregistered Trainers. Isabelle swallowed hard, realizing she couldn’t afford it. Her father’s small-town allowance covered snacks and little extras, not medical fees. Rules were rules.

  With a sigh, she stepped back. "Guess we’re holding off on that, Azzy," she murmured. Azzy tilted her head but chirped understandingly.

  Isabelle stepped up to the entrance of her apartment building, pushing the door open into the small, dimly lit lobby. The familiar scent of lavender and something vaguely citrusy lingered from the potpourri bowl Ms. Roux on the first floor always kept by the mailboxes. Azzy chirped, her tiny tail flicking as she adjusted her grip on her and started toward the stairs.

  Before Isabelle could take the first step, Ms. Roux’s door creaked open. She peeked out, peering at Isabelle over her glasses. "Ah, Isabelle, back from another adventure, are we?"

  She smirked. "Something like that."

  She crossed her arms, nodding toward the ceiling. "Did you hear about the Fontaines on the second floor? Another shouting match this morning. Honestly, I don’t know how those two haven’t torn the place apart."

  Isabelle raised a brow. "Again? What was it about this time?"

  Ms. Roux sighed, exasperated. “Who knows? Last week it was the wrong kind of PokéPuffs, before that, it was a burnt casserole. And yesterday, their Growlithe nearly burned their kitchen down. I tell you, those two are like a Slaking and a Jolteon forced to share a den.”

  She chuckled before leaning in conspiratorially. “By the way, have you tried the VireBand’s new ‘Trainer Compatibility’ feature? I hear it’s very accurate.”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

  Ms. Roux waved a hand dismissively. “Suit yourself. Just remember, if you ever pick someone, make sure you don’t just love them—make sure you can actually stand them.” She gave me a knowing look.

  Isabelle laughed. "I’ll keep that in mind."

  She nodded, satisfied, then reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a small Lum Berry, pressing it into her hand. "Here, for the road. You’ll do great out there, whenever you decide to start."

  Azzy let out a happy chirp as Isabelle pocketed the berry. "Thanks, Ms. Roux."

  She waved me off, already muttering something about neighbors who aired their laundry a little too publicly. Isabelle shook her head fondly as she climbed the creaky stairs to the third floor.

  Halfway up, she pulled out her VireBand, the screen flickering to life. The main menu options glowed in polished clarity: Map, Pokémon Stats, Trainer Profile, Communication. She hesitated before selecting Trainer Profile, the familiar, slightly goofy Flopping Magikarp logo greeting her. Her chosen title, Professional Flopper, sat proudly beneath her name—an inside joke turned motivation.

  The locked sections of the app—Trainer ID, League Access, Gym Challenges—mocked her with their inaccessibility, taunting her like a high ledge just out of reach. She tapped on them anyway, knowing full well they wouldn’t open. The app responded with the same prompt as always: “Trainer Registration Required.”

  She sighed, shifting her grip on Azzy. At least the other features worked. Scrolling past Pokémon Stats—where Azzy’s cheerful little sprite bounced beside her name—she hovered over Goals, the digital notepad where she had typed her first entry weeks ago:

  Goal #1: Master BubbleBeam (fixed it, Amélie).

  She smirked. "Still working on that one, huh, Azzy? At least now I know how to spell it." The Azurill chirped, clearly unbothered by their progress speed.

  She scrolled down and added a few more goals:

  Goal #2: Actually register for the League.

  Goal #3: Win a Gym Badge (or, you know, not get completely destroyed).

  Goal #4: Knock a Trainer out of their socks (figuratively, of course).

  She leaned back against the railing. "Alright, see? Totally reasonable goals. No sweat at all."

  As she scrolled, a notification from Amélie popped up.

  [Amélie]: Did you get eaten by a Muk or something?? You haven’t checked the group chat.

  Isabelle sighed. She had muted the Orbital Clique chat—not intentionally, but after a flood of messages the other day, she hadn’t gotten around to catching up.

  [Isabelle]: Nah, just busy.

  Amélie’s response was instant.

  [Amélie]: Liar. You’re brooding. Sign up for the League already. You can think and battle, I promise.

  Isabelle smirked, but didn’t reply. Instead, she locked her VireBand, glancing at Azzy, who was now snoozing contently in her arms. If a Magikarp could keep flopping until it became something greater, maybe she could too.

  “One step at a time,” she murmured, flexing her fingers before pushing forward up the stairs.