Flavio and I were directed to a classroom on the second floor. Most of the other students had already arrived, scattered across rows of curved desks arranged in tiers. The room looked more like a small auditorium than a traditional class.
We headed for a couple of seats in the back.
“My friend,” Flavio said with a dramatic sigh, settling into his chair, “I think we’re being excluded already.”
I looked around. He wasn’t wrong.
Most students avoided sitting near us. A few cast quick glances our way before looking back at their desks, pretending we weren’t there. And near the front of the room, the same redheaded girl—Irene Redstone—caught my eye and gave me a look that managed to be both smug and disgusted.
Charming.
“Are we the only legacies this year?” I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“Maybe,” Flavio said with a shrug. “Some keep it quiet to avoid the drama. Others don’t care—like me.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “There are usually only about five each year, so it could just be us this time.”
Great. So not only was I marked as a legacy, but I was also exposed. Jordan’s little introduction back in the auditorium made sure of that. Now, I wasn’t just some kid from nowhere—I was that kid. The one with a famous father. The one who got in through connections.
Before I could spiral any deeper, the room went silent.
An older woman entered with an air of calm authority. Her black and silver robes flowed behind her as she moved toward the podium, an Espeon gliding silently at her side. Its gem glowed faintly, and I swear the temperature dropped a degree.
“My name is Professor Lila Sanders,” she said, voice cool and measured. “I am the curriculum coordinator and a specialist in psychic-type Pokémon.”
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Some students were still whispering, their attention drifting—until the floating boxes appeared.
The jewel on Espeon’s forehead pulsed, and dozens of small metal boxes rose into the air, each one hovering briefly before dropping gently in front of every student with a soft metallic click.
The room went still again, this time in awe.
“The box contains your academy-issued Pokédex,” Professor Sanders continued. “It functions as your student ID and is fully recognized by the Pokémon League. You’ll need it with you at all times.”
I stared at the box in front of me. Flavio was already opening his, grinning like a kid on their birthday.
The device inside looked sleek—like a hybrid between a smartphone and a tablet. Its design reminded me of the Kalos region’s current model, but slimmer, with the academy’s crest engraved on the back.
“When you activate your Pokédex,” Sanders said, “you’ll find a menu of features. For now, only the class registration system is unlocked.”
A projection appeared on the wall behind her, showing screenshots of the interface.
I tapped the screen of mine, following along. The display was responsive, the layout clean. One button stood out: ‘Register for Courses’.
“As first-year students,” Sanders continued, “you are required to enroll in four mandatory classes for your first semester.”
The projector shifted to show the list:
- Pokémon Training 101
- Pokémon Battling 101
- Pokémon Care 101
- Physical Conditioning 101
“You’ll find those courses preloaded in your registration menu,” she added. “Other options will remain locked until you advance.”
I quickly tapped through the interface, confirming each course. No way to mess it up—everything was already selected.
“In your schedule tab,” she said, “you can now view your weekly timetable, instructor names, and classroom locations. The Pokédex also includes a full campus map for navigation.”
As she scanned the room, a student near the front raised her hand—a tall blonde girl with perfectly styled hair and a nervous look on her face.
“Yes?” Professor Sanders asked.
“Um… can we scan Pokémon with it yet?”
“No,” Sanders said flatly. “All additional functions—scanning, tracking, communications—will be unlocked as instructors deem necessary. That will be all.”
She stepped down from the podium, her Espeon following in silent lockstep, and exited the room without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, the tension in the room deflated—students started talking again, some fiddling with their Pokédexes, others comparing schedules.
I sat back in my chair and exhaled.
So that was it? Just class registration and silence? I guess I expected more… ceremony.
Flavio nudged me with his elbow. “Well, that was intense.”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing at my screen again. “Classes start tomorrow.”
He grinned. “Better rest up, partner.”
I looked around the room once more. The lines were already drawn—cliques forming, eyes watching, judgments being made. No battles yet. No rankings. Just quiet tension and fake smiles.
But that won’t last long.