Isabelle groaned softly, rolling onto her side, burying her face into her pillow as Azzy chirped excitedly beside her, nudging at her cheek with its bouncy tail.

  “Not yet,” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

  Azzy, undeterred, gave a determined little squeak before launching itself into a series of excited hops—landing squarely on Isabelle’s stomach.

  "Oof—okay, okay, I’m up!" Isabelle groaned, cracking an eye open as Azzy beamed up at her, proud of its wake-up tactics.

  With a sigh, she stretched her arms over her head and legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold against her bare feet, the lingering warmth of her blankets tempting her to crawl back under. But Azzy was already bouncing toward the hallway, her fluffy little tail wiggling as she expected Isabelle to follow.

  “Fine, you win.”

  By the time Isabelle shuffled into the kitchen, her father was already seated at the table, his attention split between a steaming cup of coffee and his VireBand’s digital news feed. He barely looked up as Isabelle moved to the counter, reaching for a slice of hearty multigrain toast and slathering it with a hasty spread of Nanab Berry jam—the sweet, slightly tart flavor was always a reliable choice to wake her up in the mornings.

  As she settled into her usual seat across from her father, she reached for a plump Sitrus Berry from the fruit bowl, its golden rind smooth under her fingertips. With a practiced motion, she grabbed a small paring knife and carefully sliced the berry into thin wedges, pushing a few toward Azzy, who was already perched on the table, tail swaying excitedly.

  Azzy chirped in delight, immediately snatching up a slice with her tiny paws, savoring the juicy citrus-like burst. Isabelle smiled as she watched her Pokémon nibble away, her little ears twitching with satisfaction.

  “Going anywhere today?” her father asked casually, eyes still flicking over whatever article he was reading.

  Isabelle shrugged, taking a bite of her toast. “Dunno yet. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” He raised an eyebrow, finally glancing up at her.

  “Still figuring it out,” she muttered, stealing another glance at Azzy, who was now happily licking berry juice off her paws.

  Her father sighed but didn’t press further. “Just be smart about it.”

  “I’m always smart,” she shot back with a smirk.

  He snorted. “Debatable.”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes but felt the warmth behind the teasing.

  After breakfast, Isabelle flopped onto her bed, stretching out with a sigh before rolling onto her stomach. Azzy curled up beside her, still nibbling on the last bit of her Sitrus Berry.

  With a flick of her wrist, she pulled up her VireBand’s interface, the sleek screen glowing to life. She hadn’t thought much about it before, but the thing really did everything her old laptop could do—except faster, cleaner, and with way more features.

  Her gaze flickered to her old laptop, still sitting on her desk—a bulky, slightly battered thing that had been a prized possession for years. The fan whirred too loudly, the screen had a faint scratch across one corner, and sometimes it needed a solid smack to function properly… but it was hers.

  She could still remember the exact moment her dad gave it to her back in Verdantia, his voice playfully serious as he handed it over.

  For your studies.

  For my studies, she had repeated, solemn as could be—before promptly loading up BraixenVivi’s latest livestream the second he left the room.

  The laptop had been her gateway to late-night Shiny hunts, Pokémon League match breakdowns, and random trainer vlogs that spiraled into hours of procrastination. She'd spent entire nights buried under blankets, volume turned low, watching Vivi react dramatically to bad battles or attempt absurd challenges like soloing the Elite Four with only a Bidoof.

  Feels like forever ago…

  She exhaled, shaking off the nostalgia as she tapped through her VireBand, swapping to the trainer forums.

  New battle reports, tier lists, tournament speculation—the usual. A pinned post at the top caught her attention:

  “The Virelia League is stacked this year. Who’s everyone betting on?”

  Isabelle skimmed the replies, reading name after name.

  Gavin Noir. Leonard Hartfield. Amelia Cross. Then a few others she only vaguely recognized.

  She lingered on the thread for a second longer, eyes narrowing slightly at the conversation.

  Would my name ever be on a list like this?

  A buzz from her VireBand pulled her away from the thought.

  Her screen flickered as a flood of messages filled the chat, one after another. Isabelle blinked, watching the chaos unfold.

  Orbital Clique Chat

  Amélie: “Okay but listen—crane games. I need a Mimikyu plush and it will be MINE.”

  Clara: “oh great. it’s one of those days.”

  Milo: “I assumed today would be a rest day. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

  Elliot: [Seen at 9:42 AM]

  Amélie: “Milo, please. A little fun won’t kill you. Unless you’re secretly 70 years old. You can tell us. We’ll still accept you.”

  Milo: “You realize I am younger than you, correct?”

  Clara: “funny. you act older. like a grandpa who complains about the weather.”

  Amélie: “EXACTLY. Milo, loosen up. Just a tiny bit. You don’t have to win the arcade, just exist in it.”

  Me: “Does this mean I should be bracing myself?”

  Clara: “brace. heavily.”

  Amélie: “IZZY. You’re coming, right??”

  Me: “…so if I say no, will I be hunted down?”

  Amélie: “YES.”

  Me: “Cool. Guess I’m in.”

  Clara: “weak.”

  Milo: “One hour. That is all I am allowing myself.”

  Elliot: “cool.”

  Amélie: “ELLIOT. THAT’S LITERALLY ALL YOU EVER SAY.”

  Isabelle shook her head, exhaling through her nose as she locked her VireBand.

  "Guess we're going to the Neon District, Azzy."

  Azzy tilted her head before chirping excitedly, bouncing onto Isabelle’s shoulder.

  The Neon District was a sensory overload.

  The streets pulsed with vibrant color, shifting billboards advertising the latest PokéGear models, energy drinks endorsed by famous Trainers, and even a promotional trailer for an upcoming Pokémon Contest Spectacular. The air smelled faintly of fried snacks and something artificial but sweet—probably the result of one of the trendy neon-colored drinks being sold at a nearby street vendor. Overhead, Magnemite-powered drones zipped between the buildings, delivering packages to customers with mechanical efficiency.

  I swear, every time I come here, it’s like stepping into an entirely different world.

  Azzy, on the other hand, was thriving. She chirped excitedly from Isabelle’s shoulder, her tiny body bouncing slightly with each step as if absorbing the energy of the district itself.

  “You’re way too into this,” Isabelle muttered, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder as she dodged a pair of trainers locked in an animated discussion about their last battle. “Not even a little overwhelmed?”

  Azzy squeaked in reply before leaping off Isabelle’s shoulder, landing on the ground with a soft bounce. She started hopping ahead toward the Neon Arcade, her tail wiggling with excitement.

  “Guess that’s my answer,” Isabelle sighed, shaking her head before jogging after her Pokémon.

  The Neon Arcade was impossible to miss—several stories high, glowing from the inside out with flashing lights and larger-than-life digital posters showcasing the latest games. The entrance was packed with Trainers and civilians alike, some flanked by their Pokémon partners. Isabelle spotted a Pachirisu perched on its trainer’s shoulder, its cheeks sparking faintly with excitement, and a Togedemaru nestled in someone’s arms like a plushie.

  Standing near the entrance, practically vibrating with anticipation, was Amélie. Her mother’s Floette twirled lazily beside her, its petals shimmering faintly in the neon light. The second Amélie spotted Isabelle, she bolted forward, grabbing her by the wrist.

  “You finally made it!” Amélie declared. “Come on, come on, come on—there’s a Mimikyu plushie in the crane machine with my name on it.”

  Milo and Elliot stood off to the side, looking about as thrilled as ever—Milo, distracted by his VireBand, and Elliot, doing his usual thing of standing silently while somehow making it look cool. Clara, leaning against a nearby lamppost, crossed her arms, her expression flat.

  “Hey,” Clara called. “Ready to watch Amélie embarrass herself?”

  “Always,” Isabelle replied, letting herself be pulled inside.

  The arcade was loud—a chaotic mixture of chiptune music, digital sound effects, and excited chatter. The air smelled faintly of buttered popcorn, carpet cleaner, and the ever-present static charge of Magnemite-powered screens.

  Crane machines, rhythm games, battle simulators, and racing pods filled every available space, glowing panels lighting up beneath the players' feet as they moved between attractions. Isabelle’s gaze flicked across the prizes on display—Pokémon plushies, collectible figures, Poké Ball keychains, and even limited-edition battle accessories.

  Amélie made a beeline for the nearest crane machine, gripping the joystick with the intensity of someone about to defuse a bomb.

  “Alright, everyone, bear witness—tonight, this Mimikyu plush is mine,” she announced, feeding a token into the slot.

  Clara snorted, stepping up beside her. “You’re about to lose all your tokens in one go, aren’t you?”

  “Doubt me all you want,” Amélie shot back, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. “This is destiny.”

  Isabelle watched as Amélie carefully maneuvered the claw over the plushie. She hesitated, nudged it slightly to the left, and then—

  The claw descended, wobbled slightly, brushed against the edge of the plushie… and limply retreated back up, empty-handed.

  Amélie’s face fell. “WHAT?! I HAD THAT!”

  “Sure you did,” Clara deadpanned. “You were only, like, a mile off.”

  Isabelle leaned against the machine, smirking. “Crane games are scientifically engineered to make you think you have a shot when, really, they’re just laughing at you.”

  Amélie huffed and shoved another token into the machine. “I don’t care. Mimikyu and I are meant to be. One more try!”

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  The claw didn’t even graze the plushie this time.

  “You’re actually getting worse,” Clara observed, voice laced with mock pity.

  Amélie groaned and turned dramatically. “Fine. Let’s see you try!”

  Clara shook her head. “I don’t waste my time on pointless games.”

  “Then shut up!” Amélie snapped, sticking her tongue out.

  Milo, who had been silently observing the disaster, finally sighed and stepped forward. “It’s not about brute force. Crane games are about precision and timing.”

  Isabelle smirked. “Oh, here comes Professor Crane Mechanics.”

  Milo ignored her, slipping a token into the slot. His movements were calm, methodical, the joystick nudged with an almost mechanical precision. The claw descended—

  Gripped a Gengar plushie.

  Lifted.

  Dropped.

  Landed cleanly in the prize chute.

  Milo bent down, retrieving the plush without a hint of excitement. “See? Simple.”

  Amélie glared. “Okay, show-off. Try the Mimikyu.”

  Milo adjusted his glasses. “I already proved my point.”

  Elliot, who had been watching in silence, finally stepped forward. He didn’t say a word. He just fed a token into the machine, moved the joystick with minimal effort, and let the claw drop.

  The Mimikyu plush landed cleanly in the chute on the first try.

  Amélie let out a gasp of pure joy, snatching the plush and holding it aloft like a trophy. “YES! Mimikyu is mine! Elliot, you’re my hero!”

  Elliot shrugged. “Lucky claw.”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “Or you’re just annoyingly good at everything.”

  Isabelle crossed her arms. “Remind me to take him to a casino if we ever need quick cash.”

  Azzy squeaked excitedly, bouncing beside Isabelle as if urging her to try a machine. Isabelle crouched down, patting her Pokémon’s head. “What do you think, Azzy? Should I give it a shot?”

  Azzy wagged her tail, chirping in encouragement.

  Sighing, Isabelle slid a token into the slot. She picked a machine loaded with Poké Ball keychains, adjusted the claw, and pressed the button.

  The claw wobbled, veered slightly off course, and gripped… nothing.

  Isabelle sighed. And that’s why I don’t trust machines.

  Azzy chirped again, nudging her leg. Isabelle chose to interpret it as encouragement.

  Milo raised an eyebrow. “You could try again. Adjust for the claw’s drift this time.”

  “Or,” Isabelle said, standing up, “I could keep my dignity intact and let someone else waste their tokens.”

  Amélie laughed, hugging her Mimikyu plush. “Dignity is overrated. Let’s find another game!”

  The group wandered deeper into the arcade, drawn by the flashing lights and cheering crowds around various mini-games. Isabelle’s eyes were drawn to a Pokémon Pinball machine, its vibrant display featuring rolling PokéBalls hitting bumpers styled like Gym Badges. Milo and Clara immediately gravitated toward a Type Match Madness game, where players had to align Pokémon types on a grid to create combos.

  Amélie spotted a crane machine with seasonal exclusives—holiday-themed plushies of Pikachu and Eevee dressed as snowmen—and immediately rushed over. “I NEED IT!”

  Elliot, as usual, quietly excelled at whatever he tried. Isabelle watched him clear the high score on a rhythm game without breaking a sweat, while Clara muttered under her breath about how annoying it was that he made everything look so effortless.

  Isabelle eventually found herself standing in front of a Virtual Catcher machine, where players used a claw to grab virtual Pokémon projected onto a screen. She gave it a try, managing to snag a digital Bulbasaur on her third attempt.

  Azzy hopped excitedly as the game awarded Isabelle a handful of tokens. “See? That’s teamwork, Azzy. Now if only we could actually keep the Bulbasaur…”

  “Let’s hit PokéKart next!” Clara called, gesturing toward the second floor. “Time to separate the noobs from the pros.”

  Isabelle groaned. “This is going to end badly, isn’t it?”

  Amélie grinned. “Only for you.”

  The group laughed as they made their way to the next challenge, their camaraderie and the chaotic energy of the arcade pulling Isabelle further into their world.

  The PokéKart section of the arcade was a spectacle unto itself. A raised platform with sleek racing simulators lined the floor, each modeled after miniature versions of iconic Pokémon—the Pikachu kart with its lightning bolt tail, a Charizard kart with fiery wings, even a Snorlax kart that somehow looked impossibly cozy. Overhead, a massive screen displayed live feeds of ongoing races, complete with colorful animations and commentary from a Rotom-powered announcer.

  “Alright, folks!” the Rotom’s electric voice crackled over the speakers. “Step right up and show us who’s the very best—like no one ever was—in PokéKart Racing! Who will claim victory? Who will spin out in shame? Only one way to find out!”

  “Okay,” Isabelle muttered, eyeing the karts. “This is either going to be epic or humiliating. Probably both.”

  Clara cracked her knuckles, her smirk more predatory than usual. “Oh, it’s going to be epic for me. The rest of you are just filler for my highlight reel.”

  Amélie huffed. “Clara, please. You’re not that good.”

  Clara raised an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

  Milo adjusted his glasses as he scanned the leaderboard displayed on the giant screen. “Clara’s been in the top ten on this machine for months.”

  Isabelle groaned. “Of course she has. And you’re just now telling us this? We’re walking into a slaughter.”

  “Not a slaughter,” Clara said with mock sweetness. “Just… a friendly reminder of the food chain.”

  “Fine,” Isabelle said, rolling up her sleeves. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

  Elliot was already sliding into the Charizard kart without a word, his calm demeanor unreadable as always. Amélie claimed the Pikachu kart, Milo took the Snorlax kart (“Stability over speed,” he reasoned), and Isabelle climbed into a Gengar kart with glowing purple accents.

  Clara, of course, selected the Lucario kart, its streamlined design practically radiating dominance.

  “Alright, racers!” the Rotom announcer chirped as the countdown began. “Three laps around the Cerulean Speedway! Watch out for flying obstacles, tricky turns, and—oh!—did we mention the randomized item boxes? Good luck, Trainers! You’re gonna need it!”

  The Cerulean Speedway was a breathtaking AR spectacle, fully immersing racers in a virtual Pokémon-themed world. The track wound through shimmering holographic landscapes: cascading waterfalls, neon-lit caves, and winding forest paths. The sound of rushing water, distant Pokémon cries, and roaring engines created a vibrant, electric atmosphere that was both overwhelming and exhilarating.

  Isabelle swallowed hard, gripping the glowing steering wheel of her Gengar-themed kart. The kart was sleek and spectral, with eerie purple mist emanating from its back. Beside her, Amélie revved up her Pikachu kart, its lightning-shaped exhaust flashing with sparks. Clara’s Lucario kart gleamed under the neon lights, a clear indicator that she’d customized it for peak performance. Milo, ever practical, had chosen the slow-but-stable Snorlax kart, while Elliot’s Charizard kart glowed faintly orange, looking ready to melt the competition.

  The countdown began, the lights above the track pulsing rhythmically.

  Three… two… one… GO!

  The karts shot forward, each accelerating with a satisfying hum. Isabelle’s Gengar kart lurched ahead, its ghostly mist swirling as it passed Amélie’s Pikachu kart. The first stretch of the track was relatively straightforward—a gently curving path lined with AR-generated trees.

  Pokémon flitted through the branches, adding an almost serene quality to the chaos about to unfold.

  Clara wasted no time establishing dominance. Her Lucario kart zipped into an early lead, hitting a turbo pad that sent her rocketing ahead of the pack. “Better keep up, losers!” she called over her shoulder, her voice brimming with confidence.

  “Oh, it’s on,” Isabelle muttered, steering into the next turn. A glowing item box hovered ahead, spinning enticingly. She smashed through it, her screen displaying a randomized selection of items before settling on a Shadow Ball. “Nice,” she said with a grin, aiming it at Clara’s kart.

  The Shadow Ball hurtled forward, crackling with dark energy—only for Clara to swerve effortlessly, letting the attack explode harmlessly against the track barrier. “Really, Izzy?” Clara’s voice crackled through the comms. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

  “Ugh, I already hate her,” Isabelle grumbled, though she couldn’t deny a twinge of admiration for Clara’s skill.

  The track transitioned into its second section: a neon-lit cave filled with sharp turns and glittering stalactites. The faint glow of Zubat holograms swooped down as obstacles, forcing racers to weave through their erratic flight patterns. Milo’s Snorlax kart trundled along steadily, his calm demeanor unshaken as he dodged each Zubat with precision.

  “Steady wins the race,” Milo said, narrowly avoiding a glowing stalactite. “No need to rush.”

  Amélie, meanwhile, was not faring as well. “These Zubat are rigged!” she shouted, her Pikachu kart bouncing off a cave wall. She snagged an item box and unleashed a Thunder Wave, which crackled through the track, stunning Isabelle and Elliot’s karts for a brief moment.

  “Really, Amélie?!” Isabelle shouted, shaking her head as her kart sputtered back to life. “You’re supposed to aim that at the leader!”

  “Oops!” Amélie called back, not sounding particularly sorry.

  The second lap began with Clara still dominating, her Lucario kart skidding around corners with an ease that bordered on infuriating. Isabelle managed to snag a Turbo Boost from an item box, rocketing past Amélie and Milo. She caught up to Elliot, who was driving his Charizard kart with unnerving calm, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track’s twists and turns.

  “You know you can show some emotion, right?” Isabelle said as she passed him. “A little trash talk? A smirk? Anything?”

  Elliot didn’t respond, though his kart suddenly accelerated, matching her speed with chilling precision.

  The next stretch of the track brought them to a waterfall segment, the cascading AR water looking so real that Isabelle instinctively braced for a splash. The track wove through narrow cliffs and slippery platforms, with hidden shortcuts tempting the bold. Clara, of course, took the most dangerous shortcut, skidding across a barely visible ledge that shaved precious seconds off her time.

  “Show-off,” Isabelle muttered, opting for the safer route.

  Amélie, still trailing, grabbed another item box and fired a Confuse Ray. The shimmering beam struck Milo’s Snorlax kart, causing him to veer erratically. “Amélie!” Milo protested. “Teamwork is a thing, you know.”

  “Sorry! I panicked!” Amélie called, clearly not sorry.

  The final lap began with the track transitioning into its most chaotic section: a flooded marshland filled with holographic wild Pokémon and treacherous terrain. AR-generated Mudsdale stomped across the path, their hooves creating puddles that slowed down anyone who got too close. Isabelle managed to dodge a particularly aggressive Mudsdale, only to skid into a patch of sticky mud that left her fuming.

  “Come on, come on!” she muttered, mashing buttons to recover her speed.

  Clara was still untouchable, her Lucario kart weaving through the obstacles like they weren’t even there. She hit another turbo pad, launching herself into the home stretch.

  Isabelle snagged one last item box, her screen spinning before landing on a Rare Candy. Her kart glowed briefly, its speed doubling. She surged forward, passing Milo and Amélie and closing the gap between herself and Clara.

  “I’m coming for you!” Isabelle shouted, her voice a mix of determination and desperation.

  Clara glanced back, her smirk widening. “Cute.”

  With a final burst of speed, Clara crossed the finish line, her Lucario kart howling in victory. The Rotom announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “And it’s another stunning victory for Lucario! Clara reigns supreme once again!”

  Isabelle crossed the line seconds later, her Gengar kart sputtering to a stop. Amélie and Milo followed close behind, while Elliot’s Charizard kart cruised in with mechanical precision.

  Isabelle slumped in her seat, groaning. “Second place. Second freakin’ place.”

  As the karts glided to a stop on the virtual podium, the AR display around the track shimmered, and holographic spotlights lit up, bathing the players in neon hues. Isabelle stepped out of her Gengar kart, stretching her legs and muttering under her breath.

  I can’t believe this. Second place. AGAIN.

  Above them, the Rotom announcer’s hologram appeared, its eyes flickering with mischievous delight as it hovered in front of the scoreboard.

  “BZZZT! Race complete! Here are your final standings!” Rotom’s electric voice crackled with exaggerated enthusiasm. “First place, as if there was any doubt—Clara! With a record-smashing time of 2 minutes, 45 seconds! BZZT!”

  Clara, standing smugly in front of her Lucario kart, brushed imaginary dust off her shoulder. “Record-smashing, huh? Guess it’s just another day in the life of a champion.”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny Clara’s skill. She’s so good, it’s disgusting.

  Rotom continued, its tone somehow growing more dramatic. “Second place, Isabelle! Crossing the finish line 5.2 seconds after Clara! AND impressive fact, folks—according to last month’s race records, Isabelle is the ONLY racer to finish within five seconds of Clara! EVER!”

  The group turned to Isabelle, whose eyes widened at the announcement.

  “Wait, seriously?” she asked, glancing at the glowing scoreboard that displayed her time of 2 minutes, 50 seconds.

  “BZZT! Indeed, racer! Clara typically finishes with a 10-second lead! But YOU, Isabelle, are breaking trends! Perhaps you’re destined for greatness after all. Or maybe just second place!” Rotom added with a cheeky zap of electricity.

  “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Rotom,” Isabelle muttered, though a tiny flicker of pride bloomed in her chest. Okay, fine. Maybe second place isn’t the absolute worst. But it’s still second.

  Amélie jumped out of her Pikachu kart, throwing her arms up dramatically. “Fourth place?! That’s an insult to Pikachu everywhere! I demand a recount!”

  Rotom ignored her entirely, its voice continuing as the scoreboard shifted to display the standings:

  1st: Clara (Lucario Kart)

  2nd: Isabelle (Gengar Kart)

  3rd: Elliot (Charizard Kart)

  4th: Amélie (Pikachu Kart)

  5th: Milo (Snorlax Kart)

  “And in third place, the stoic enigma himself—Elliot! BZZT! Impressive control, as usual!” Rotom added with a cheeky wink. Elliot simply shrugged, adjusting his jacket like he hadn’t just crushed half the group.

  Milo, stepping out of his Snorlax kart with unhurried movements, clapped his hands once. “Well, I wasn’t last. That’s a win in my book.”

  “Oh, yeah, totally,” Amélie teased. “Snorlax outpaced me. That’s what dreams are made of.”

  Rotom wrapped up with a dramatic flourish. “Good job, everyone! Remember—there’s always room for improvement! Except for Clara, of course—she’s perfect. BZZZT!”

  Clara smirked, throwing her arms out like a conquering hero. “You heard the Rotom, folks. I’m perfect. Accept it.”

  Isabelle shot her a dry look. “Yeah, yeah, enjoy your throne while it lasts. Next time, I’m taking you down.”

  “Sure you are,” Clara said with a mockingly sweet smile. “You’re welcome to try, though. I like the competition.”

  As the scoreboard faded, Rotom zipped around them one last time. “Thanks for racing, trainers! Don’t forget to visit the prize counter to redeem your tokens! BZZZT!”

  The group burst into laughter, ribbing each other as they left the platform. Despite Isabelle’s lingering frustration at not snagging first place, the camaraderie and chaos of the race left her grinning. Fine. Clara can have her smug little victory. For now.