Journal Entry: “Magikarp Diaries #2”

  Day 2 Summary

  Date: 20XX

  Location: Lumora City, Starlight Heights

  Mood: A mix of “Why am I here?” and “Maybe this isn’t so bad.”

  Well, Diary, today was one for the books. If Day One was a splash, Day Two was a full-blown Whirlpool. I’d say I’m adjusting to life at Lumora’s Academy for Excellence, but let’s be real—it feels more like trying not to drown in a pool full of competitive Gyarados while still figuring out how to swim.

  Let’s break it down, Izzy-style:

  Amélie Lévesque:

  Still a human sugar rush, still impossible to ignore. Today’s mission? Giving our group a name. Because clearly, that’s what we needed on Day Two. First suggestion: “Stellar Squad.” My immediate thought? Auditioning for a kids’ TV show. I actually said it out loud, and Amélie laughed—successfully dodged embarrassment, for once. Then there was “Galactic Circle,” which Clara immediately shot down with, “Do we look like we run a cult?” At the time, I didn’t say anything, but now that I’m thinking about it... yeah, Clara totally looks like she could run a cult. But really, isn’t it Amélie who’s the mastermind? She’s the one roping us all in with her boundless energy. Great. Am I in a cult now without realizing it?

  Anyway, we settled on “The Orbital Clique.” I didn’t fight it. I mean, it’s better than “Stellar Squad.” Barely.

  Clara Novak:

  Clara’s still terrifying in that “one glare and you’re done” kind of way. She’s blunt, sarcastic, and somehow manages to look like she’s perpetually unimpressed with the world. I don’t think she’s smiled once since I met her, but I guess that’s just her vibe. Today, she mostly kept her comments aimed at Stefano, which was both terrifying and wildly entertaining. She’s definitely not someone I’d want as an enemy.

  Milo Tanner:

  The group’s quiet genius. Milo doesn’t say much unless it’s about something specific—like battle strategies or the best way to counter an offensive team. He’s a total bookworm, always scribbling in his notebook or tapping away on his VireBand. I get the feeling he’s used to staying in the background, but Amélie’s on a mission to pull him out of his shell. She keeps dragging him into conversations, which he tolerates with the patience of a saint.

  Elliot Price:

  Okay, so... Elliot. I haven’t even met him yet. Apparently, he doesn’t show up to class. At all. Clara gives him all the materials, and according to Milo, he can be bribed with snacks. It’s like he’s living my dream of a perfectly isolated, self-sufficient education. Is that allowed? Can I swap places with him?

  Stefano Marino:

  Oh, Arceus, Stefano. He’s the embodiment of ego, walking into class like he’s already Champion of the League Circuit. Today, he went on a rant about how small-town kids like us can absolutely take on the big-money Trainers. Honestly, I agree with him, but the way he says it makes me want to argue out of spite. At some point, I sarcastically called him “humble,” and he actually believed me. Now I think he might have a crush on me. Why is this my life?

  What’s Next?

  Tomorrow’s Saturday, which means one thing: no excuses. I’m going to start training with Azzy. I mean it this time. No more hiding behind “I don’t know what I’m doing” or “what if people stare?” excuses. Azzy deserves better than a partner who’s too scared to leave the shallow end.

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  The plan? Start small. Basics. Practice Bubble Beam, work on her agility, maybe figure out a way to improve her accuracy without completely exhausting her. There’s a park near the Neon District that looks like it’s just busy enough to blend into the background without drawing too much attention. It’s not like anyone expects to see the next Champion out there. Baby steps, right?

  But then there’s the math homework. Oh, Arceus, the math homework. Mr. Kotomine dropped what feels like an entire League Championship bracket’s worth of equations on us, and I can already feel my brain short-circuiting just thinking about it. I’ll do it Sunday. Definitely Sunday. Probably. Maybe.

  For now, I need to focus on tomorrow—and that demonstration Dad mentioned. He was so excited about it, and I guess I can’t blame him. Sustainable energy and Pokémon tech are kind of a big deal, even if I’m not sure they’re my deal. Still, if I don’t want to climb the corporate ladder (spoiler alert: I really don’t), then I need to set some goals for myself. Something—anything—to make all of this feel less... directionless.

  The problem is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Everyone else seems to have it figured out: Amélie’s got her endless energy and her sights set on the League Circuit, Milo’s probably three years ahead of the curriculum with his research, Clara’s... well, Clara, an enigma wrapped in sarcasm, and Stefano—ugh, Stefano—thinks he’s already Champion. And then there’s Elliot, the guy who doesn’t even show up to school but somehow still gets everything done like it’s no big deal. He’s living the dream of my introverted fantasies, and I can’t decide if I envy him or if I just want to learn how to pull that off.

  And then there’s me. The small-town girl still trying to figure out if she even wants to swim in this giant, overcomplicated city pond.

  Speaking of complicated things… there’s BraixenVivi.

  Tonight’s livestream was... something. Watching Vivi, with her electric-blue hair and sparkling confidence, makes it all look so effortless. She’s funny, she’s sharp, she’s completely in control—and somehow, she makes it feel like every single one of her fans matters. Even through a screen, you can feel her energy, like she’s actually cheering for you to succeed.

  I don’t know how she does it. The Q&A, the Pokémon news, the jokes, the What’s in My Bag? segment—it all flows so seamlessly. She answers questions like she’s been doing it forever, balancing between charm and knowledge, even when someone like Sir Lux drops in with an absurd donation and a question that sounds like it came from a League Championship panel.

  Which brings me to Veyron Lux.

  It can’t be him, right? The guy from the Glow Dome? The one who absolutely destroyed Colby without breaking a sweat? There’s no way that Veyron Lux is the same person donating 50,000 PokéDollars to a Pokémon idol and asking hyper-specific battle meta questions. But then again... who else could afford to do something like that so casually?

  And Vivi. For a second—just a second—her perfect, polished persona flickered. No one else probably noticed, but I did. Her smile tightened, like she was caught off guard but couldn’t show it. It felt... familiar. That weird moment when you’re trying to act like everything’s fine, but your brain’s screaming, “What do I do with this?”

  I don’t know what her story is—who she is behind the screen and the confidence—but something about her resonates with me. I just don’t know what it is…

  I guess, in a way, we’re all trying to figure it out, whether we’re idols or small-town girls or mysterious Glow Dome enigmas.

  Tomorrow’s going to be a lot. Training with Azzy, that demonstration with Dad, maybe even setting some goals for myself if I can muster the energy. But for now, I just want to sleep and not think about math or League Circuits or Veyron Lux or how much I don’t know what I’m doing.

  Goodnight, Lumora. Please don’t throw anything new at me tomorrow.

  —Izzy

  P.S. Azzy already passed out. She doesn’t have to do the math homework, so of course she’s stress-free.