Chapter 3: Academy First Day

The first day of classes arrived before I could fully process everything my grandmother had revealed. I slapped my alarm clock to silence it and sat on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest. Her words about the Poison Clan, the hidden conflicts behind the Pokémon League Federation, and, of course, the Five Poison Organs technique still echoed in my mind. I tried to shake off the thoughts, but the tension returned as soon as I opened my eyes.

I took a deep breath and got dressed in my oversized black and purple hoodie—it was so large it almost swallowed me, but it made me feel comfortable. Against the wall, Grimer was sleeping soundly, a living puddle snoring with a soft “blorp… blorp.” I watched him for a few seconds. The idea that my father had sent me his egg from Alola with the cryptic message that it “might serve me one day” felt surreal. At least my sleepy companion was a constant amid all the uncertainty.

“Hey, Grimer,” I called softly, crouching to touch his gelatinous side. “Today’s the big day. We’re starting at the Academy. It’s going to be a long one, dosy.”

Grimer stretched, lifting his half-closed eyes and letting out a low “merrr,” which I interpreted as a reluctant “fine, I guess.” With a wet squelch, he shifted himself into motion, leaving behind a faint glossy trail that, thankfully, didn’t smell.

I headed downstairs with Grimer following sluggishly behind me. In the kitchen, my mom, Rosa, was making a special breakfast: omelets with berries native to Kanto. The aroma was incredible and reminded me of how much life had changed in just a few days. My grandmother, Julia, sat at the table, sipping coffee with a distant look in her eyes.

“Good morning, Aspen,” Mom said with a smile that was a mix of worry and excitement. “Make sure to eat well. The entrance ceremony starts at eight, and you can’t be late.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied, grabbing a bite. Grandma watched me silently, and I couldn’t help but picture the invisible scars she carried—the years spent fleeing from Koga’s Poison Clan, her illegal fusion of knowledge with a stolen scroll from the Normal Clan, and her warnings about my own poisonous affinity.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked in a grave voice.

“I tried,” I said, not wanting to say more in front of my mom.

Grandma took another sip of coffee before standing with the help of her cane. Her gaze was stern, but her tone was unusually soft.

“Remember… keep your eyes open. Even if everything seems calm, don’t underestimate what might be hiding beneath the surface.”

I blinked and nodded silently. My mom didn’t seem to notice the subtext; she was too busy making sure I had everything I needed. I finished my breakfast, said goodbye to them, and headed toward the Academy, with Grimer oozing along beside me like a half-conscious blob.

The sky was clear, and a weak sun peeked through the city’s buildings. My nerves tingled—a mix of curiosity and unease. The Kanto Academy looked imposing even from a distance, with its futuristic towers and wide glass windows. As I got closer, the crowd of students grew: hundreds of kids of various ages were streaming through the massive main gates.

Uniformed security guards were checking IDs and giving directions. I recognized a few professors from the orientation meeting: a chubby man with a kind face, a tall red-haired woman carrying a briefcase full of Poké Balls, and others. They all seemed tense, though they tried to mask it with smiles.

I passed through the main entrance into a large lobby leading to an open courtyard. Rows upon rows of seats were arranged neatly for the entrance ceremony. A stage had been set up at the front, with a podium and chairs for the faculty. The excitement and nervousness in the air were almost tangible. Some students were already forming groups, chatting or looking around with wide-eyed awe.

I felt the urge to hide in the farthest corner, but Grimer’s presence immediately drew attention. A few curious or disgusted glances landed on us, and I overheard some murmurs about my slimy companion. Ignoring them, I found my assigned section based on my last name, sat in an empty chair, and took a deep breath. Grimer settled on the floor beside my leg.

“Welcome to Kanto Academy,” a voice boomed through the microphone. A middle-aged woman with an elegant posture and her hair tied in a neat bun stepped up to the podium. “I am Director Magnolia, and it is an honor to welcome you on this first day. Over the coming years, you will have unforgettable experiences, grow as trainers, researchers, breeders, or specialists, and leave here prepared for whatever future you choose.”

Her words echoed across the courtyard, and the audience fell into a respectful silence. She went on to emphasize the importance of the Academy’s unified education, discipline, and camaraderie. She mentioned the classrooms, the opportunity to advance based on academic and combat merits, and the various paths the Academy offered: from Pokémon breeding programs to archaeological studies. However, everyone would start with the same foundational courses.

“I encourage you to work hard, to nurture curiosity and camaraderie,” she concluded with a smile. “Learn from your professors, your peers, and, of course, your Pokémon.”

Applause filled the courtyard. I clapped timidly, while Grimer let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a yawn. After a few more speeches, the ceremony ended with the school’s anthem. The sunny, clear day matched the cheerful mood, but I couldn’t shake the gray cloud hovering over my thoughts.

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After the ceremony, a professor—the same red-haired woman I had seen earlier—called out groups of students to guide them to their classrooms. I joined the group marked with a large “E.” There were easily over two hundred of us. We headed into the main building, climbing internal stairs to the third floor. Classroom E was massive, with rows upon rows of desks in a space surrounded by screens and digital whiteboards.

I found a seat in the middle—neither too close to the front nor too far back. Grimer tried to stick close to me, perhaps overwhelmed by the crowd. To my right, a timid boy with glasses introduced himself with a handshake. His name was Dante. He was friendly and didn’t seem to mind Grimer, which I silently appreciated.

Our teacher introduced himself as Professor Sandoval, responsible for theoretical subjects and the fundamentals of Pokémon training. His energetic tone immediately captured the room.

“Welcome to Classroom E,” he said. “Here, you’ll learn essential subjects and have the chance to advance to smaller, more specialized classes. My goal is to ensure you all gain the knowledge needed to become responsible trainers.”

He explained our schedules, extracurricular activities, monthly combat tests, and a team-based exploration event scheduled for next week in a nearby cave. Around me, some students looked excited, others nervous. I just wanted to get through the day without any surprises, but my grandmother’s warnings about the Five Poison Organs technique lingered in the back of my mind.

The class passed with introductions and some initial lessons. When my turn came, I mumbled my name—“Aspen Meloc”—without adding any details. Several students glanced at Grimer, their expressions ranging from curiosity to revulsion, but I ignored them. To my surprise, Professor Sandoval didn’t make any snide comments. He simply nodded and moved on.

After class, we were given time to explore the campus, pick up our uniforms, and familiarize ourselves with the Academy. Dante suggested visiting the practice fields, but I had another idea: the library. I wanted to research Alolan Grimer, its “Chemical Reaction” ability, and anything that might help me understand my potential Poison affinity.

“Maybe later,” I told Dante apologetically. He nodded and joined a group of students talking excitedly about Flying Pokémon.

Grimer and I made our way to the library, following signs to the east wing of the building. The glass doors slid open with a soft hum, revealing an enormous space lined with endless shelves, study rooms with soundproof glass walls, and tables with sleek lamps. The place was bustling with students flipping through books, scrolling on tablets, or whispering quietly.

As I wandered deeper into the maze of bookshelves, the murmurs faded. The library seemed far larger than I’d expected, with shelves forming intricate pathways. Occasionally, I passed a focused student or a pair of classmates chatting in hushed tones. The farther I went, the quieter it became, until I reached a section marked “Specialized Biology.”

Grimer let out a low bubbling sound, almost like a shudder. I figured he might have picked up a strange scent. Peering around the shelves to make sure we weren’t bothering anyone, I froze.

At the end of one aisle, surrounded by floating books, stood a girl.

Her long, deep red hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, shifting softly as if moved by an unseen breeze. Books hovered around her, their pages flipping on their own. I couldn’t see her face clearly because she was leaning over several open tomes. I held my breath, unsure whether to approach or retreat.

Grimer pressed closer to my leg, equally unsure.

Without warning, the girl raised her head, and her eyes—glowing, piercing magenta—locked onto mine. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Her gaze felt like it was piercing through me, peeling back my thoughts.

At her side floated an Abra, lazily twisting mid-air. It stopped abruptly as I stepped forward, its gaze narrowing with sudden intensity.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low and flat. Her crimson hair swayed slightly, and the books around her fluttered like restless birds.

“I-I’m Aspen,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. “From Classroom E. I was just looking for… a quiet place to study.”

The books around her moved with greater force, as if shaken by a nonexistent wind. I noticed her black dress—it fell elegantly, and the skirt swayed as if the air around her were constantly in motion. Her delicate but confident hands seemed capable of manipulating objects without even touching them. My breath hitched at the thought of her psychic abilities. I remembered stories of psychic trainers who could read minds or move objects with ease.

The Abra, meanwhile, floated a few inches closer to me, studying me with a neutral expression. Grimer let out a bubbling whimper and clung closer to my leg. I couldn’t blame him.

“Are you really here just to study?” the girl tilted her head, her crimson hair falling to one side of her face. Her glowing pink eyes, penetrating and cold, showed a sharp distrust.

“Y-yes, really,” I repeated, recalling my grandmother’s warnings. “Don’t trust anyone too quickly—not psychics, not anyone. They might sense your affinity.” My nervousness grew as I wondered if she could read my thoughts.

“Why do I feel… this energy?” she murmured, narrowing her eyes as if analyzing something. “It’s a poisonous aura.” She immediately shifted her gaze to Grimer. “Alolan Poison-type. Interesting. But there’s something deeper.”

Suddenly, she snapped one of the books closed, producing a sharp sound. The Abra tensed, as if preparing for something. I noticed several pages detach from the floating books, beginning to hover independently, like blades of paper.

“What… what are you doing?” I asked, my voice strained.

“Were you sent by them?” she whispered, her brow furrowing. “Are you allied with the Poison Clan?”

Hearing that made my blood run cold. How could she know about the Poison Clan? A flood of questions overwhelmed me: Was she part of a rival faction? Could my grandmother have been right about psychics being on guard against Koga’s clan?

“I… I have nothing to do with Koga’s Clan. I swear,” I tried to sound convincing, but my voice trembled.

Her expression hardened.

“I’m not just talking about Koga. There are other assassins who sell their services to the highest bidder. I’ve heard that those bastards from the Psychic Clan hired the Poison Clan to track me and keep an eye on me.” She stood up slowly, the books spinning faster around her. The Abra positioned itself by her side. “I don’t know who you are, but if you’ve come to kill me… I won’t let you.”

My heart pounded in my chest. “Hired the Poison Clan?” This sounded far more sinister than I could have imagined. I tried to step back, but my legs felt rooted to the floor.

“You’re wrong, I’m not—”

“Shut up!” she snapped, and something invisible gripped my throat. I felt the pressure as though icy hands were choking me, preventing me from speaking. A bead of sweat rolled down my temple. Grimer, alarmed, moved in front of me, growling low and bubbling in his throat.

The girl raised her right hand, and several sheets of paper separated from the books, sharpening into thin blades in the air. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying. They formed a kind of fan of improvised knives, floating with an eerie precision.

“If you really are from the Poison Clan, tell your bosses they won’t catch me so easily,” she said, her voice icy and calm. “And if you’re just a pawn… I’m sorry, but you’ll have to get out of my way.”

I noticed a slight tremor at the corner of her lips, a flicker of contained rage. Her crimson hair swayed more violently, and the pages began to flutter frantically, as if controlled by a whirlwind. A cold sweat ran down my back. Grimer seemed ready to either attack or protect me, but against psychic power like hers? We were hopelessly outmatched.

With a single gesture, she extended her hand. The pages shot forward, gleaming with an edge so fine they looked like blades. Even though they were made of paper, their speed and energy left no doubt about their lethality.

“Wait!” I managed to yell with what little air I had left. But there was no response. Grimer threw himself in front of me, and a part of me wanted to jump to shield him.

I saw the whirlwind of razor-sharp pages closing in, too fast for me to dodge. I could hear the sharp whistle as they cut through the air… and in that moment, I realized an inevitable clash had just been set in motion.