Around 3:00 o’clock, Isabelle pushed open the door to her apartment, the familiar click of the latch signaling the start of a much-needed reprieve. She stepped inside, kicking off her shoes and letting them land haphazardly near the welcome mat. The stillness of the apartment enveloped her, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day.
The faint scent of garlic and olive oil lingered from last night’s dinner, blending with the soft polish of the wooden floors. Isabelle dropped her bag by the door, the soft “thud” echoing faintly in the quiet space. She leaned back against the door for a moment, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply.
The day’s whirlwind of interactions replayed in her mind—Milo’s quiet brilliance, Clara’s razor-sharp wit, Stefano’s over-the-top arrogance. And, of course, Amélie’s boundless energy tying it all together. “What even is my life right now?” she muttered to herself, the corners of her lips twitching into a reluctant smirk.
A delighted squeak broke her thoughts as Azzy, her Azurill, came bounding toward her from the living room. The little Pokémon’s tail bounced like a spring, her round blue body wobbling with each hop. Isabelle crouched down, catching Azzy mid-bounce and pulling her into a hug.
“Hey, you,” Isabelle murmured, ruffling Azzy’s soft fur. “At least you don’t expect me to come up with a name for our ‘team.’” Azzy chirped in response, nuzzling against Isabelle’s cheek before squirming free and bouncing toward the hallway.
With a sigh, Isabelle pushed off the door and followed Azzy. “Alright, let’s get changed. Amélie’s got plans, and I’m already regretting agreeing to them.”
Isabelle’s bedroom was a sanctuary of muted tones and personal touches, a mix of her rural roots and her growing attempts to adapt to city life. The quilted bedspread—a gift from her grandmother—was neatly tucked in, its soft floral pattern standing out against the minimalist decor of the room. Above her desk hung a Polaroid picture of her and Azzy, taken on one of their last walks in Verdantia Town. The golden light of the countryside framed their faces in the photo, a reminder of simpler days.
Isabelle set her bag on the desk chair and unfastened the purple and pink ribbon ties in her hair, placing them gently on the desk. She ran her fingers through her black, layered hair, letting it fall naturally around her shoulders before turning toward her closet.
Azzy hopped onto the bed, her tail bouncing behind her as Isabelle opened the doors. Her wardrobe was a mix of old and new—practical pieces from Verdantia Town alongside sleeker, trendier additions from Lumora City.
“Alright, what do we wear for an Amélie adventure?” Isabelle mused aloud, pulling out options. Azzy tilted her head, watching intently as Isabelle held up each outfit.
Isabelle pulled out a breezy sundress, holding it up to herself in the mirror. She tilted her head, frowning. “Too fancy. I’m not trying to impress anyone.” She tossed it onto the bed, where Azzy immediately claimed it as a makeshift nest.
Next came a pair of denim shorts and a striped button-up shirt. Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “Too Verdantia,” she said, adding it to the growing pile on the bed.
Finally, she settled on a loose-fitting graphic tee from a boutique in Verdantia, paired with comfortable joggers and a zip-up hoodie tied around her waist. The look was casual and functional, perfect for navigating the Neon District while staying true to her roots. She slipped on her well-worn sneakers, bending to tie the laces.
Azzy squeaked excitedly, nosing at a colorful scarf Isabelle had pulled out earlier. Laughing, Isabelle draped the scarf over Azzy like a cape. “Très chic, mademoiselle Azzy,” she said, twirling her little Pokémon gently. Azzy chirped in delight, bouncing across the bed with her new accessory.
Isabelle caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused. Her hazel eyes lingered on her reflection, taking in the relaxed outfit and her slightly disheveled hair. She adjusted her shirt, smoothing the fabric. “Still the girl from Verdantia,” she murmured, her voice soft. “Just trying to look like I belong here.”
Azzy bounced off the bed, circling Isabelle’s feet as she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Isabelle bent down, scooping up Azzy and holding her close. “Alright, troublemaker,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go see what Amélie has in store for us.”
The apartment door clicked shut behind Isabelle, and she stepped into the warm embrace of the late afternoon sun. August’s golden glow cast a honeyed hue over the streets, while the faint scent of blooming flowers mingled with the hum of city life. Azzy perched in her arms, her round body bouncing slightly with each step, her tail wagging in time with Isabelle’s strides.
The walk toward the Neon District was like stepping through the pages of a brochure titled “City Life: Overstimulate Your Senses.” The streets came alive with movement—pedestrians hustling between errands, street vendors calling out about their wares, and Pokémon weaving through the crowds like living, breathing extensions of the city’s rhythm.
Isabelle adjusted Azzy in her arms, her hazel eyes darting between the sights around her. Why do I feel like everyone here just knows what they’re doing? she thought. Meanwhile, I’m just over here trying to figure out which direction to walk without looking like I’ve never been outside before.
Her mental projection appeared beside her, dressed in a stereotypical tourist outfit complete with an oversized camera. It loudly shouted, “Hey, everyone! Look! Small-town girl out of her natural habitat!” Isabelle grimaced. Thanks, oh wise and omniscient narrator.
The streets grew busier as she approached the fringes of the Neon District. A Doduo jogged past her, its Trainer holding onto its reins with a grin as one of the heads squawked indignantly at a passing Snubbull. A Machoke helped a delivery man unload crates, stacking them with casual ease onto a dolly. Performers lined the sidewalks—one juggling glowing orbs of energy while his Mr. Mime mimicked the motions, and another playing a lively tune on a flute, a Bellossom swaying in perfect sync.
Azzy squeaked in excitement, her head swiveling to take in the chaos. Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” she muttered, shifting her grip as Azzy chirped happily in response.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Isabelle glanced down to see a little girl standing nearby, clutching a stuffed Eevee toy. Her wide eyes were fixed on Azzy, who blinked back with equal curiosity.
“Can I pet her?” the child asked, her voice soft but hopeful.
Isabelle hesitated, glancing at Azzy. “What do you think?” she asked her Pokémon. Azzy squeaked approvingly, wagging her tail.
“Sure,” Isabelle said, crouching slightly to bring Azzy closer. The child reached out, her tiny hand brushing against Azzy’s soft fur.
“She’s so squishy!” the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up with delight.
Isabelle chuckled. “Yeah, she gets that a lot. Just don’t let her fool you—she’s a troublemaker when no one’s looking.”
Azzy gave an indignant squeak, as if to protest this slander, and Isabelle laughed, feeling a small flicker of warmth in her chest.
As Isabelle continued her walk, the transition into the heart of the Neon District was unmistakable. The narrow streets of Starlight Heights gave way to wide avenues, flanked by towering buildings adorned with holographic billboards and neon signs. The air buzzed with energy—snippets of conversations, the hiss of a bus braking, and the distant sound of a guitar from a busker on the corner.
Her mental projection reappeared, now decked out in sleek citywear and sunglasses, striking a pose. “Look at all these people who know how to exist,” it quipped. “Not a single trash can incident among them. How do they do it?”
“Oh, shut up,” Isabelle muttered under her breath, earning a confused glance from a passerby. She quickly plastered on a polite smile and kept walking.
The Gleaming Café was impossible to miss, its sleek exterior glowing softly with gold and white accents that stood out even against the Neon District’s usual flair. A holographic sign floated above the entrance, displaying the day’s specials with elegant animations of berry-infused drinks and desserts shaped like Pokémon.
Isabelle hesitated outside for a moment, her nerves flaring up. Am I underdressed? Did Amélie send me here just to make me look stupid? What if I—
Azzy squeaked and nuzzled her cheek, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. “Okay, okay,” Isabelle muttered, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.” She stepped inside, the door chiming softly behind her.
The interior was a blend of cozy and futuristic, with soft golden lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Modern furniture with clean lines was paired with delicate floral arrangements on each table, creating a harmonious balance between sleek and inviting. The centerpiece of the café was a rotating display of desserts, each one a miniature work of art inspired by various Pokémon.
Isabelle joined the short line at the counter, trying not to fidget as she scanned the menu. Azzy squirmed excitedly in her arms, drawing amused smiles from nearby patrons.
The barista—a bubbly, curly-haired girl with a name tag reading “Juliette”—greeted her with a beaming smile. “Hi there! Welcome to the Gleaming Café! Oh my Arceus, your Azurill is adorable!”
Azzy chirped happily, basking in the attention. Isabelle smiled awkwardly. “Thanks. She’s, uh, very proud of that.”
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“Can I get you something?” Juliette asked, leaning on the counter. “Or, wait—how about I whip up something custom for you two? A little drink for you, a little drink for Azzy? Trust me, it’ll be perfect.”
Isabelle blinked, caught off guard by the enthusiasm. “Oh, um, sure. That sounds great.”
“Perfect!” Juliette spun around, already pulling ingredients. “One human-‘mon combo coming right up!”
As Juliette worked, Isabelle couldn’t help but think, She’s like if Amélie got caffeine injected straight into her veins. Her mental projection appeared, wearing Juliette’s curly hair as a wig. It turned to Isabelle with a deadpan stare. “Speak of the devil…”
Before Isabelle could fully process the thought, a familiar voice rang out behind her.
“Isabelle! There you are!”
Isabelle turned to see Amélie trotting into the café, her mother’s Floette floating serenely beside her. Amélie’s face lit up with excitement as she spotted Isabelle.
“Well,” Isabelle muttered under her breath, her mental projection now pointing dramatically at Amélie like she’d just uncovered a conspiracy. “Of course.”
Amélie waved as she approached, her grin as infectious as ever. “I knew you’d get here before me! C’mon, did you order yet? Floette and I are starving!”
Isabelle sighed, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Amélie, I think you’d show up for your own funeral late and hungry.”
Amélie gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. “Rude! True, but rude.”
Juliette slid a drink across the counter toward Isabelle—a pale pink concoction garnished with a sprig of mint—and a tiny, frothy blue drink in a thimble-like cup for Azzy. “Here you go! Enjoy!”
“Thanks,” Isabelle said, taking the drinks and handing the smaller one to Azzy, who squeaked happily.
Amélie leaned closer, eyeing Isabelle’s drink with a mischievous grin. “So… what’d you get me?”
Isabelle rolled her eyes, handing Amélie a menu. “You can figure it out yourself, oh fearless leader.”
The two found a corner table, settling in as the café bustled around them. Floette floated beside Amélie, and Azzy balanced her tiny drink in her tail, chirping contentedly. Isabelle sipped her drink, glancing at Amélie and thinking, Maybe this isn’t the worst way to spend an afternoon.
Her mental projection raised its glass in a toast. “Here’s to surviving another day without any major disasters. Cheers!”
Isabelle set her drink down, watching as Amélie buried her nose in the menu with the fervor of someone trying to crack the code to eternal happiness. Floette floated nearby, occasionally glancing at Azzy, who was gleefully slurping at her tiny frothy drink through her tail. The sight of the two Pokémon sharing a quiet camaraderie was oddly calming, even if Isabelle felt the weight of her own thoughts looming in the background.
Amélie finally let out a dramatic sigh, dropping the menu onto the table. “Okay, why is everything here either too fancy, too fruity, or too basic? I mean, who orders plain water at a café? Criminal behavior.”
Isabelle raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of her drink. “You sound like someone auditioning to be a food critic on TV.”
Amélie gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. “How dare you? I’m not critiquing—I’m evaluating. Big difference. Besides, you should be grateful. I’m using my unparalleled taste to make sure our snacks are top tier.”
“Unparalleled taste? This from the girl who brought leftover spaghetti in a thermos for lunch yesterday.”
“That spaghetti was handcrafted by my dad,” Amélie shot back, her hazel eyes sparkling with mock indignation. “And it was delicious, thank you very much.”
Isabelle snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, top-tier food critic of Lumora.”
Once Amélie finally placed her order—something involving a berry-flavored frappuccino topped with a ludicrous swirl of whipped cream—their snacks arrived. Isabelle absentmindedly picked at a plate of mini pastries while Amélie dove headfirst into her drink.
“So,” Amélie began, tapping her straw against the edge of the glass. “Serious question time. What’s holding you back, Isabelle?”
Isabelle froze mid-bite, the pastry lingering awkwardly in front of her mouth. “What do you mean?”
Amélie gave her a look, one that was all-too-familiar to anyone who had ever tried to sidestep her questions. “You’ve got Azzy. You’ve got a head start. You could sign up for the League Circuit tomorrow if you wanted to. So why haven’t you?”
The words hit like a soft but persistent nudge, and Isabelle set the pastry down, avoiding Amélie’s gaze. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is,” Amélie said, leaning forward with a grin. “You grab a form, you fill it out, boom—instant Trainer.”
Isabelle’s mental projection appeared beside her, holding up a comically oversized neon sign that read, Warning: Existential Crisis Ahead. She resisted the urge to sigh. “It’s not the paperwork,” she said, brushing a crumb off her lap. “It’s just… What if I’m not good enough? What if I flop? Like, completely?”
Amélie tilted her head, studying her. “You can’t flop if you don’t even try, Izzy. And for the record, I don’t think you’d flop.”
“Thanks, motivational poster,” Isabelle muttered, poking at her plate. “But you haven’t seen me in battle. Azzy’s great, but me? I’d probably trip over my own two feet trying to call out a move.”
Amélie giggled, then reached across the table to nudge Isabelle’s arm. “Hey, tripping over your own feet is part of the fun. Besides, I’ll be right there to laugh at—uh, I mean, support you.”
Isabelle couldn’t help but crack a smile. “So generous.”
Amélie took another sip of her frappuccino, swirling the straw thoughtfully. “You know, I get it. It’s scary to think about, right? Signing up, putting yourself out there. I mean, I still have to pass the Pokeschool bar exam before I can even get my starter from Professor Ardene. And that’s just the beginning. What if I don’t live up to my brother’s legacy? What if I’m just… average?”
Isabelle blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in Amélie’s voice. “You? Average? Have you met yourself?”
Amélie chuckled, though her smile softened. “Hey, even fearless leaders have doubts sometimes.” She leaned back in her chair, her hazel eyes distant. “My brother, Amié, was amazing. He had this way of commanding a battle, you know? Like he belonged there. I want that too. I want to stand on that stage and feel like I’ve earned it.”
“You will,” Isabelle said, surprising herself with the conviction in her voice. “You’ve got the energy, the determination… and, well, the lack of a filter.”
Amélie burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Okay, rude. But thanks.” She leaned forward again, her grin returning. “Now, what about you? What do you want?”
Isabelle hesitated, the question sinking into her chest like a stone. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I guess… I just want to figure it out. Whatever ‘it’ is.”
Amélie’s gaze softened, her hazel eyes catching the café’s golden light in a way that made them shimmer, as though the very essence of her boundless energy had been distilled into her stare. They sparkled with a warmth so bright, so impossibly vibrant, that Isabelle could almost feel the heat of it brushing against her own skin. It wasn’t just a look—it was like standing in the path of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, a quiet but unshakable reassurance that made Isabelle’s chest tighten in a way she didn’t fully understand. Amélie reached across the table, her fingers brushing Isabelle’s hand with a touch that felt both grounding and electrifying.
“Then maybe that’s enough for now,” Amélie said softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that matched the glow in her eyes. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Isabelle. But you’ve got Azzy, and you’ve got me. That’s a pretty solid start, right?”
Isabelle’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of her napkin as Amélie’s words sank in, heavy and warm, like a blanket she wasn’t sure she wanted to be wrapped in. Her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, but all she could manage was a small, stiff nod. “Y-Yeah,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s… a start.”
Internally, her mental projection had gone full red-alert mode, complete with flashing sirens, a tiny Isabelle running around with a megaphone, and a massive warning banner unfurling behind her that read, Social Battery Critically Low—Immediate Recharging Required! DO NOT PROCEED!
This is dangerous, the little Isabelle in her head screamed. This is unexplored territory. Friendship?! Genuine emotional warmth?! Do you even know how to handle this?!
But as Amélie’s hand lingered for just a second longer, a reassuring weight against her own, Isabelle felt her anxiety clash against the undeniable sincerity in those sparkling, impossibly radiant eyes. It was like standing in the glow of a campfire on a cold night—you could run away from it, sure, but it would still leave its warmth on your skin.
Azzy, blissfully unaware of Isabelle’s internal turmoil, chirped happily as she swished her tail in her tiny drink, splashing droplets onto the table. Floette, floating serenely beside Amélie, tilted her flowered head curiously before gently nudging Azzy’s tail with her own vine-like arms. The interaction pulled Isabelle out of her spiral for a moment, her lips twitching into a faint, reluctant smile.
“Your Floette’s really gentle,” Isabelle said softly, gesturing toward the Pokémon.
Amélie beamed, her earlier intensity giving way to her usual uncontainable energy. “Of course she is! She’s been in the family forever—Mom used to train her, back before she decided flowers were better company than battling.”
Isabelle tilted her head. “Your mom gave her to you?”
“Sort of.” Amélie scratched her cheek sheepishly. “Floette just kind of… decided one day that I was her person. She still helps Mom in the garden sometimes, but she sticks by me when it matters.”
Floette twirled in place, her petals fluttering gently as if to confirm Amélie’s words. Isabelle nodded, glancing at Azzy, who was now trying (and failing) to balance her empty cup on her tail. “I guess Azzy kind of picked me too,” she murmured.
Amélie stood with a dramatic stretch, her Floette drifting back to her side like a dutiful assistant. She checked the time on her VireBand and groaned. “Ugh, it’s almost six. If I don’t head home soon, my mom’s going to dispatch Floette with her disappointed stare of doom.”
Isabelle stood as well, brushing invisible crumbs from her lap. Despite herself, she hesitated, the end of something unexpectedly pleasant tugging at her, leaving her unsure of what to say. “Yeah… I should head back too. Dad’s probably starting dinner. He’ll be home soon.”
Amélie grinned, her hazel eyes sparkling with playful determination. “Good. Make sure you recharge, because you’re going to need all your energy this weekend.”
Isabelle blinked. “What? Why?”
“Because the group’s planning to meet up,” Amélie declared, her hazel eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Clara, Milo, maybe even Elliot if Clara can bribe him with enough snacks. And you, of course! No backing out, no lame excuses. Make sure to clear your schedule!”
Isabelle’s mental projection waved its arms frantically, now hoisting a new banner that read, DANGER: FRIENDSHIP LEVELS INCREASING RAPIDLY! Isabelle herself floundered, her mouth opening and closing like a Magikarp on dry land. “Uh, I—”
Amélie didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll message you! Don’t even think about hiding, okay? Later!” She tossed a wave over her shoulder as she headed for the door, the café chime softly announcing her exit.
Isabelle watched her go, her lips parting as if to protest, but the words never came. Instead, she stood there, the café growing quieter as the bustling energy Amélie brought with her dissipated. Azzy squeaked softly, wiggling in Isabelle’s arms as though sensing the shift in mood.
Her mental projection reappeared, this time dramatically collapsing onto a table like a fainting actress, clutching a sign that read, You’re in over your head. Isabelle sighed, adjusting Azzy in her arms. “You’re not wrong,” she muttered under her breath.
