The alarm blared like a cranky Loudred, and Isabelle groaned, pulling her quilt over her head as if it could shield her from responsibility. Azzy, ever the morning enthusiast, bounced onto her stomach with a delighted squeak, her tail thumping insistently.

  “Alright, alright, I’m up,” Isabelle mumbled, her voice muffled by the blanket. She peeked out, her black hair a mess of mid-length layers sticking in every direction. Loose strands framed her light hazel eyes, which blinked groggily against the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

  Azzy chirped triumphantly, bouncing off the bed to her usual perch near the door. Isabelle shuffled after her, yawning as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hoodie, pulled on halfway during a half-asleep stumble, hung lopsided over her graphic tee, its faded Verdantia boutique logo barely visible through the fabric’s creases. She adjusted it with one hand while her other grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

  “I look like I’m auditioning for a ‘Small-Town Mess in the Big City’ sitcom,” Isabelle muttered, running a hand through her disheveled hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. It didn’t work. Her sneakers, worn and scuffed but dependable, peeked out from under her joggers as she took one last glance at Azzy. The little Azurill was already poised at the door, her tail wagging in rhythm.

  “Okay, Missy, let’s go,” Isabelle said, reaching for the last essential ingredient of her morning—a piece of bread from the counter. She clenched it between her teeth, the universal sign of someone running slightly late but refusing to skip breakfast.

  With a deep breath, she swung open the door, stepping into the corridor as Azzy squeaked happily beside her. Together, they plunged into the morning chaos of Lumora City, Isabelle's hair bouncing slightly with every step, and the bread precariously bobbing in her mouth like an afterthought she couldn’t afford to lose.

  The streets of Lumora City buzzed with their usual weekend energy, a far cry from the structured chaos of school days. The hum of conversation and the distant thrum of a bass-heavy track from some unseen speaker created a living, breathing atmosphere. Isabelle weaved through the sidewalk traffic, Azzy bouncing beside her with unbridled enthusiasm.

  She darted past a vendor setting up a stall, his voice booming as he stacked neatly organized jars of jam on display. “Fresh berry jams! Lumora’s finest! Free samples for Trainers and their Pokémon!” Isabelle didn’t break stride, though Azzy tilted her head at the word “berry.”

  “Nope,” Isabelle said firmly, adjusting her bag. “We’re not getting distracted. Eyes on the prize, Azzy.”

  Further down the street, a group of teenagers clustered around a small portable arcade, their animated chatter mixing with the clatter of buttons and the pixelated cries of Pokémon battles on the screen. One of them, a boy with a cap worn backward, cheered loudly. “Critical hit! Eat that, Charizard!”

  Another groaned, smacking the back of his head. “You only won because I forgot to train properly!”

  Isabelle shook her head with a small smirk. Train properly? What does that even mean? Is there some secret technique I’m missing? Great, add that to the list of things I don’t know.

  As she neared Neon Plaza, the vibrant heart of Lumora, the city seemed to shift gears. The atmosphere here was electric, buzzing with life and creativity. Isabelle slowed her pace slightly, letting herself take in the sights—even if only for a moment.

  The Fountain of Light, the plaza’s centerpiece, danced with holographic displays of Pokémon. Today, it featured a cascading Pikachu made of sparkling water and light, its tail flickering with bursts of golden electricity. A crowd had gathered around it, kids pointing and laughing while their parents snapped photos.

  “Next up, Eevee!” an automated voice announced, drawing a fresh round of cheers.

  To the left, Art Alley was alive with activity. A street artist in a wide-brimmed hat worked on a massive mural of a Dragonite, his hands moving in swift, practiced strokes. Nearby, a musician strummed a lively tune on his guitar, a Chatot perched on his shoulder mimicking the melody with uncanny accuracy. A couple of kids stood mesmerized by an augmented reality exhibit where a holographic Garchomp loomed over them, roaring dramatically before dissolving into pixels.

  I could spend hours here if I didn’t have, you know, actual things to do, Isabelle thought, adjusting her grip on her bag.

  She passed by a vendor at the Neon Craft Market, their table covered in handmade jewelry and custom PokéBalls. A pair of tourists debated over a neon-glowing keychain shaped like a Togepi, the woman insisting it was “adorable,” while the man grumbled something about the price. Isabelle didn’t linger—her mental projection, now wearing a tacky tourist hat, gestured wildly toward the exit.

  “Focus, Isabelle. Unless you want Amélie to pop up out of nowhere and catch you slacking,” her mental projection said, now wearing a tacky tourist hat and blowing a whistle.

  Isabelle sighed, glancing around the lively plaza. “Alright, alright, I’m moving. Happy?” she muttered, quickening her pace as Azzy bounced eagerly ahead.

  Isabelle stepped into the Mini Poképark and immediately felt the overwhelming wave of chaotic energy that came with spaces designed for kids. The place was bustling—children darted around with their Pokémon, laughter and excited shouts mingling with the chirps, barks, and squeaks of smaller Pokémon at play.

  Azzy let out a delighted squeak, bouncing on her tail as if to say, This is my kind of place! Isabelle adjusted her bag, her expression already veering toward mild regret.

  The Tiny Terrain Adventures section was the first thing to catch her eye. Miniature landscapes sprawled out like dioramas come to life: tiny caves for Pokémon to explore, grassy knolls dotted with fake flowers, and shallow water pools where a couple of Wooper splashed gleefully.

  “Great,” Isabelle muttered, stepping aside to avoid a kid chasing a squealing Pichu. “This is basically a Pokémon daycare with better landscaping.”

  Her mental projection appeared beside her, decked out in a camp counselor outfit and wielding a clipboard. “Alright, Isabelle, let’s assign you and Azzy to the sprinkler team! Remember to keep your hydration levels up and don’t forget snack time.”

  “Go away,” Isabelle whispered sharply, earning a strange look from a passing parent. She cleared her throat and continued walking, her eyes scanning for an open spot.

  The Interactive Toys area was next, filled with chewable faux berries, rolling PokéBalls, and lightweight agility hoops. Azzy practically vibrated with excitement, her tail twitching as if she might spring into the middle of it all.

  “Not today,” Isabelle said, steering Azzy away from the chaos. “We’re here to train, not play with chew toys.”

  She passed the Obstacle Courses, which were scaled perfectly for small Pokémon. A Zigzagoon bounded over a low hurdle, while a Teddiursa cautiously climbed a mini rope bridge, its Trainer clapping encouragingly from the sidelines.

  Further down, Trainer Lounges offered mats and cushions for bonding activities. A young woman brushed her Skitty’s fur with meticulous care, while another kid tossed PokéPuffs to a jubilant Cleffa. The area had an oddly serene vibe, the glowing orbs placed around the seating emitting a calming light.

  “I’d sit there,” Isabelle murmured to herself, “if I wasn’t terrified someone would try to talk to me.”

  Azzy chirped inquisitively, and Isabelle smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a spot. Hopefully one that doesn’t scream ‘lost babysitter.’”

  The GlowPlay Pavilion was an enclosed area with bioluminescent plants glowing softly against the shade of the structure. Gentle lighting effects danced across the walls, accompanied by soothing music. Inside, shy Pokémon like a Togepi and a Hoppip engaged in quiet play, their movements slow and deliberate. Isabelle felt her tension ease just looking at it.

  “This place is definitely for kids,” Isabelle muttered, though her tone lacked conviction. “I mean, look at this. It’s like they knew how to make Pokémon yoga.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Her mental projection appeared again, this time wearing a pair of glowing yoga pants and holding a mini gong. “Namaste, Isabelle. Now breathe deeply and embrace the serenity.”

  Isabelle sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not doing yoga with Azzy.”

  After wandering past most of the crowded areas, Isabelle finally spotted a small, relatively quiet corner near the edge of the park. It was tucked behind a line of hedges, far enough from the bustling play zones to offer some semblance of isolation.

  The open patch of grass was just big enough for basic training, and a small hydration fountain stood nearby—perfect for Azzy’s inevitable need to splash around.

  “Finally,” Isabelle said, setting her bag down with a relieved sigh. “This’ll work. No distractions, no nosy kids, and no... whatever that was.” She glanced back at the GlowPlay Pavilion, where a Hoppip floated serenely.

  Azzy chirped excitedly, bouncing onto the grass and spinning in place. Isabelle crouched, her fingers brushing Azzy’s soft fur. “Alright, Missy. Let’s get to work. We’re going to make you the best Bubble Beam user this park has ever seen. And no, it’s not just for show.”

  Azzy squeaked in response, puffing up proudly. Isabelle adjusted her position, pulling out a small training target from her bag and setting it a few feet away.

  “This is it,” she muttered, standing back to observe. “We’re not here to impress anyone. Just me and you, Azzy. Let’s do this.”

  Her mental projection popped up one last time, now dressed as a sports coach, whistle at the ready. “Alright, champ. Show me those bubbles!”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Thanks for the pep talk, me. Real inspiring.” She straightened up, brushing her hands on her joggers before pointing dramatically at the training target. Her voice was filled with mock determination as she called out, “Azzy, Bubble Beam—go!”

  For a split second, the world seemed to respond. The vibrant grass appeared greener, the sunlight intensified into golden rays, and the air felt charged with energy. It was as if everything had been staged perfectly for this moment—a triumphant display of raw Pokémon power. Isabelle’s outstretched hand, her determined expression, and Azzy’s poised stance all seemed larger than life, as though captured in the kind of vivid visual representation Trainers dreamed of.

  And then… nothing.

  Azzy tilted her head, her round body bouncing slightly as she looked up at Isabelle with wide, innocent eyes. She chirped softly, clearly confused by the sudden theatrics.

  Isabelle’s arm dropped as she deflated like a popped balloon. The momentary glow of confidence vanished, replaced by a faint heat crawling up her neck. “Seriously?” she muttered, crouching down to Azzy’s level. “You’re just going to stare at me like I told you to calculate the stock market?”

  Azzy squeaked again, wagging her tail as if to say, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re doing great!

  Isabelle groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Okay, let’s try this again. No theatrics this time. Just bubbles. Aim for the target, not me, okay?” She pointed to the training dummy with far less flair this time, shaking her head. “Bubble Beam, Azzy. You got this.”

  Isabelle clapped her hands lightly, trying to encourage Azzy. “Come on, Missy, Bubble Beam! You’ve got this—just like we practiced at home! Well, sort of practiced... Okay, not really practiced, but still. Bubble Beam!”

  Azzy chirped happily, her round body bouncing as she turned—completely ignoring the target—and waddled toward the nearby fountain. She hopped gleefully into the shallow edge, splashing around with her tail as if this were a casual playdate rather than an intense training session.

  Isabelle stared, her arm still raised from pointing at the target. Slowly, she let it drop, the sheer absurdity of the situation settling over her. “Seriously, Azzy?” she muttered, walking over to the fountain. “We’re supposed to be training, not hosting a water aerobics class!”

  Azzy looked up briefly, her wide eyes sparkling with mischief, before flopping onto her back and kicking water into the air. Isabelle ran a hand down her face, groaning. “What am I doing wrong? You’re usually so good at listening. I mean, you know ‘sit,’ ‘stop,’ and… I’m pretty sure you understand me when I ask if you want a snack.”

  She sat down on the edge of the fountain, her fingers idly tracing the stone rim as she watched Azzy splash around. Her chest tightened with uncertainty. “Was this a mistake?” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “Am I not cut out to be a trainer? Maybe I’m just…” She trailed off, her thoughts spiraling.

  Her mental projection popped up beside her, wearing a ridiculously oversized coach’s whistle and pacing dramatically. “Alright, Isabelle, let’s break it down. Step one: Stop overthinking. Step two: Get a clue. Step three—”

  “Not helping,” Isabelle muttered, flicking imaginary water toward her projection.

  Azzy, meanwhile, had begun spinning in place, sending up tiny droplets that caught the sunlight. Isabelle couldn’t help but crack a faint smile. “You’re really having the time of your life, huh?”

  She sighed, letting her thoughts drift. “You know, Missy,” she began, more to fill the air than anything else, “when I was a kid, I thought bubbles were magic. Like, actual magic. The way they float, catch the light, shimmer with all those colors—it’s just… cool, you know?”

  Azzy stopped spinning, tilting her head toward Isabelle.

  “And yours are the best bubbles,” Isabelle continued, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, look at that tail of yours. Built-in bubble tech. You could probably out-bubble anyone here if you—”

  She stopped mid-sentence as Azzy let out a shrill squeak, her mouth glowing faintly. Energy gathered at the base of her cheeks before a small but forceful stream of bubbles shot forward—straight at Isabelle’s face.

  “GREAT,” Isabelle sputtered, flailing as the bubbles popped against her cheeks and hair. She blinked rapidly, water dripping down her nose as Azzy chirped triumphantly.

  Her mental projection reappeared, wearing goggles and giving a sarcastic thumbs-up. “Congrats, you’ve successfully trained your Pokémon to bubble you. Truly groundbreaking stuff.”

  Isabelle wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, glaring half-heartedly at Azzy, who was now bouncing in place, clearly proud of herself. “Okay, fine,” Isabelle said, shaking her head. “You can bubble. I’ll give you that. But next time, maybe aim for the target instead of my face?”

  Azzy chirped again, her tail wagging energetically as if to say, You didn’t specify.

  Isabelle groaned softly, rubbing her temple as she crouched next to Azzy, who was now sitting contentedly by the fountain, as if she hadn’t just drenched her trainer. “Alright, so we know you can do Bubble,” Isabelle muttered, her voice half-resigned and half-amused. “But Bubble Beam? Apparently that’s asking for the impossible.”

  Azzy chirped, wagging her tail innocently as if to say, Bubbles are bubbles. Why overcomplicate it?

  Isabelle stood, brushing the damp fabric of her hoodie. “Alright, let’s try something different. Maybe you just don’t like the word ‘Beam.’ It’s too... serious or something.” She crossed her arms, pacing a few steps as she thought. “How about this: Azzy, use Tackle!”

  Azzy blinked up at her, tilting her head like Isabelle had just spoken in an alien language. The Azurill didn’t move, didn’t chirp, didn’t even wag her tail. She just stared, her round body perched still as a rock.

  “Really?” Isabelle asked, throwing her hands up. “You don’t know Tackle? It’s, like, the most basic move ever! It’s just running into something!”

  Azzy blinked again, her wide, innocent eyes making it clear she had absolutely no idea what Isabelle was talking about.

  Her mental projection appeared beside her, clipboard in hand. “Well, Coach, maybe you should’ve double-checked the syllabus before assigning new material. She’s clearly still on Bubble 101.”

  Isabelle sighed. “Okay, okay, fine. No Tackle. How about Tail Whip? You know, that thing you do with your tail when you’re trying to look cute and harmless?”

  Azzy perked up at this, her tail wagging energetically. She turned toward the target and gave an enthusiastic swish of her tail, sending a slight puff of air in the target’s direction. Isabelle squinted at the motion, trying to figure out if it was just Azzy being playful or an actual Tail Whip.

  The target, of course, didn’t react. It stood firmly rooted in place, completely immune to whatever invisible effects Tail Whip was supposed to have.

  “Was that...?” Isabelle trailed off, tapping her chin. “Did you actually do it? Or were you just being cute?”

  Azzy squeaked proudly, bouncing in place.

  Her mental projection returned, now dressed as a referee, blowing a whistle. “Let’s call it a draw. Tail Whip: inconclusive!”

  Isabelle huffed. “Fine. You know what? At least we’ve got Bubble. That’s something.” She crouched again, brushing a hand over Azzy’s soft fur. “We’ll work on the rest later. For now, let’s see if we can get your aim better with... Bubble. Just Bubble.”

  Azzy chirped eagerly, puffing up her cheeks in preparation.

  Standing again, Isabelle pointed toward the target, her voice steady. “Alright, Missy. Bubble! Let’s see those amazing bubbles again—at the target this time.”

  Azzy squealed with excitement, her mouth glowing faintly before releasing a stream of bubbles. This time, they hit the edge of the target, popping harmlessly against the plastic. Isabelle’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face.

  “See? You can do it!” she said, clapping her hands. “That’s a start, Azzy!”

  Azzy bounced in a small circle, her tail squeaking against the grass. Isabelle couldn’t help but laugh, a sense of relief washing over her. It wasn’t perfect, and it definitely wasn’t Bubble Beam, but it was progress.

  “Alright,” Isabelle said, adjusting her stance. “Let’s keep practicing. We’re going to figure this out, one bubble at a time.”

  Azzy chirped again, her enthusiasm contagious as the two prepared for another round of training. For now, Isabelle pushed the doubts and overthinking aside. They’d get there eventually—together.

  Azurill: Bubble, Tail Whip, Bubblebeam, Bounce

  Spoiler on why Azzy knows the moves she does, but not Tackle.

  Bounce, though Isabelle hasn't recognized it as a formal move yet.

  As for Bubble Beam, the issue isn't that Azzy doesn't know it; it's that Isabelle's phrasing is unintentionally confusing. By splitting it into "Bubble" and "Beam" as separate instructions, Isabelle is essentially giving Azzy mixed signals. Azzy knows Bubblebeam as a cohesive move but has no clue what "Bubble" combined with "Beam" is supposed to mean.

  And Tackle? Well, Azzy's never had to rely on physical attacks. Her moves are playful and bubble-centric. It's a gap that shows inexperience but also highlights their potential for growth as a team.