"I'm not," Zane said, momentarily thrown by the question before he understood what the examiner was getting at.
Right. This world has a whole slew of Pokémon-related careers. It wasn't just about becoming a trainer and aiming for the Pokémon League. There were Coordinators for Contests, Breeders, Pokémon Doctors, Researchers, Rangers... the list went on.
A trainer's job was simple, really: train Pokémon, make them stronger, and battle. Being a Breeder, on the other hand, was a whole different level of complicated. The name said it all—their goal was to raise Pokémon to be the best they could possibly be. It wasn't just about feeding them; it was about managing every single aspect of their lives.
It's like what Brock used to say in the anime, Zane mused. The field of breeding covers a ton of different disciplines. Making specialty Pokémon food is just the most basic part of the job.
In the games, Breeders were the ones who could see a Pokémon's innate talent—its potential. They were the masters of IVs and EVs, able to bring out the absolute maximum potential in any Pokémon through careful nurturing. That's why the profession was so respected. But behind that seemingly all-powerful skill set was a mountain of real-world knowledge: nutrition, medicine, botany, pharmacology...
A normal person starting from scratch would be lucky to even earn the title of 'rookie breeder' after years of study, let alone become one of the elite breeders who ran Day Cares and offered their services to top-tier trainers.
Of course, that didn't mean Breeders were automatically better than trainers. Everyone has their limits. Someone who specializes in breeding might be lacking in battle strategy, while a battle-focused trainer wouldn't have the specialized knowledge of a professional breeder.
Though, to be fair, Zane admitted to himself, most of the really top-tier Champion-level trainers are usually amazing at raising their Pokémon, too.
Hearing Zane's negative reply, the proctor's face fell with disappointment. So, he was just getting his hopes up?
As the first applicant to complete the second assessment, Zane was, by default, the first to enter the room for the final test.
The last part was the interview.
He walked in and saw three people sitting at a long table at the front of the room. In the center was an old man with white hair and glasses. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw a kid walk in.
A woman in professional attire sitting next to him blinked. "Little boy, are you in the wrong classroom?"
Zane felt an eye-roll coming on. "...I'm in the right place."
The woman's mouth opened, then closed. She looked uncertainly at the old man beside her. "Principal, what should we do?"
Kiriyama Hideki, the principal of the elementary school, studied the boy standing before him. "Proceed as normal," he said, his voice calm.
The female teacher nodded and began to explain the rules to Zane. "For this test, you will draw a question from this box and share your thoughts on the topic. Based on your answer, we will determine if you are a suitable candidate to teach at our school."
So, they're testing for logical thinking and the ability to perform under pressure. Got it.
Zane had no objections. He walked forward, reached into the box, and pulled out a small, red ball. He twisted it open. Inside was a slip of paper with a question written on it.
Question: What is your opinion on the practice of wild Braviary forcing their young Rufflet to train alone in the forest?
Zane paused.
He remembered this. It was a major plot point in the most recent movie, Secrets of the Jungle. A young Rufflet gets injured in the forest, and when Koko and Zarude help it, the parent Braviary returns and attacks them for interfering. The whole scene was meant to contrast two different types of fatherly love.
Zarude's love for Koko was protective, sheltering him from the harshness of the world.
The Braviary's love was deeper, sterner—a tough love meant to prepare its child for that same harshness, to push it to grow up faster so it could fly higher.
With that in mind, Zane organized his thoughts and spoke. "I believe," he began slowly, "that it's a manifestation of the Braviary's fatherly love for its child."
The female teacher nodded thoughtfully. "Continue."
Using the movie as his primary source, Zane extrapolated on the likely ecology of the species in this world. "For wild Pokémon, danger is a constant, ever-present threat. If a Braviary isn't by its Rufflet's side when danger strikes, we all know what the result will be.
"So," he continued, "the Braviary uses this method to train its child. It forces the Rufflet to get used to pain, to learn from hardship, so it can grow up as quickly as possible. In nature, it's survival of the fittest. The Braviary isn't just being cruel; it's doing what it absolutely has to do."
Hearing this, the three interviewers' expressions diverged. The female teacher on the left was frowning. The principal in the middle, Kiriyama, was smiling with appreciation. The male teacher on the right was lost in thought.
The woman was the first to speak. "Don't you find that explanation to be incredibly cruel?"
Zane offered a shy smile. "But they don't have a second choice, do they? It's the only way to ensure that in the future, the Rufflet can fly higher, and farther, than it ever could otherwise."
The woman couldn't find a reason to argue.
Zane pressed his advantage. "Of course, that's the adult way of looking at it. For children, it's a harsh lesson. So, when teaching this concept, the focus would need to be on the element of fatherly love within that harshness."
The meaning was clear, and everyone in the room understood the nuance.
The female teacher's expression was a little strange. "You seem very young," she commented.
Zane sighed internally. "I just have a young-looking face," he said, using his prepared excuse. "I'm actually twelve."
Is there really a difference? The female teacher wanted to ask, but she held her tongue.
Just then, Principal Kiriyama repeated Zane's words aloud: "'Survival of the fittest...'" He looked up, a satisfied smile on his face. "A perfect answer. Congratulations, you've passed the interview. Assuming there are no issues with your first two tests, you're hired."
"Principal...!" the female teacher exclaimed, shocked. "That's against the rules! And his age—"
Before she could finish, the principal cut her off, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say. "Age is not an issue. A formal education is not an issue. What I know is that he has the ability, and he has empathy for children. Based on those two points alone, he is more suitable for this job than most of the applicants out there."
He turned his gaze back to Zane. "May I ask, why did you choose to apply to our school?"
Zane hesitated for a fraction of a second, then gave the most honest answer he could. "To make a living?"
The male and female teachers stared at him, dumbfounded. "???"
Principal Kiriyama, however, simply frowned. He glanced at the boy's clothes, noting the rough-looking fabric. You didn't need to touch them to know they were cheap, street-stall quality. "Do you not have any family?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Zane felt a bit awkward. "They passed away," he said.
Without missing a beat, he repeated the story he'd told Officer Jenny, adding a few new details for flavor. His non-existent parents, he explained, were brilliant Pokémon scholars. He had grown up learning at their side, which was why he knew so much.
His story was met with sighs of sympathy. "What an irresponsible pair of parents!" the female teacher said angrily.
Principal Kiriyama just looked at him with an even deeper expression of pity.
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