The Test

The day of the test had finally arrived. I stood at the edge of the training ring at the back of the Oreburgh Pokécenter, staring nervously at the instructor who was overseeing the entire process. His name was Brant—an older guy with a face like a particularly grouchy Graveler and arms that looked like he had never skipped a workout in his life. He seemed like the kind of person who didn't believe in "good enough." Either you had it, or you didn't.

I had Tyrunt's rope in hand, my fingers already starting to cramp from holding it so tightly. Tyrunt, predictably, had its focus elsewhere—namely on a discarded piece of rubber over in the corner. Its mouth twitched, the desire to chew on something clearly written all over its face.

"Alright, Jack," Brant said, his voice a deep, no-nonsense growl that could have easily come from a Golem. "This test is about control. Not just whether Tyrunt will do tricks, but whether it'll listen to you under real circumstances. I need to see that you can handle it in a way that keeps both the Pokémon and people around you safe. Got it?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, got it."

Brant raised an eyebrow and pointed at Tyrunt. "And remember, it's not just about getting it to sit or follow. We'll be pushing Tyrunt a bit today. Stress testing. We need to see how it reacts when things get tough."

A knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach, but I tried to keep it together. Tyrunt had made progress—maybe not much, but enough to make me hopeful. "Okay, Tyrunt," I called, pulling the rope gently. "Come here, buddy."

Tyrunt blinked, its attention slowly moving away from the rubber it had been eyeing. It lumbered over to me, its eyes half-lidded as if this was already too much effort. I could feel Brant's eyes on me, watching every little movement.

"Good," Brant said, his voice almost begrudging. "Now, we're going to start with something easy. Tyrunt, sit."

I glanced at Tyrunt, then gestured downward. "Tyrunt, sit."

Tyrunt's eyes shifted from me to Brant, then back to me. For a moment, I thought it was going to ignore me as usual. But then, with a huff that sounded a lot like "Fine, if you insist," it lowered itself down, sitting on its haunches.

"Yes! Good boy!" I said, unable to keep the smile off my face. Brant nodded, though his expression remained stony.

"Alright, that's the easy part," Brant said, stepping closer. "Now, let's see how it handles a bit of discomfort. If you're going to have Tyrunt around in the city, it has to be able to handle stress without lashing out."

He held up a small metal rod with a blunt end—a simple prod used to test a Pokémon's reaction to sudden, unexpected sensations. It wasn't sharp, but the pressure was enough to simulate what might happen if Tyrunt bumped into something or got hurt accidentally.

Brant moved closer to Tyrunt, and I could feel my heart pounding. "Tyrunt, stay," I said, my voice wavering just a little. Tyrunt looked at me, then at Brant, who was approaching with the prod. Its eyes narrowed, the dinosaur instinct already kicking in. I could almost hear it thinking, What's this guy doing?

"Easy, Tyrunt," I said, trying to keep my tone calm. Brant moved in, pressing the blunt end of the rod gently against Tyrunt's side. For a second, Tyrunt stayed put, its eyes flicking to me as if trying to gauge whether this was okay.

And then, the pressure increased. Brant pushed just a bit harder, enough that I saw Tyrunt wince. Its eyes widened, and before I could react, Tyrunt let out a loud roar, twisting around and snapping at the rod with its powerful jaws.

"No! Tyrunt!" I shouted, trying to pull on the rope, but it was too late. Tyrunt lunged forward, its teeth clamping down around the rod. Brant didn't flinch—he yanked the rod back just in time, but Tyrunt's jaws snapped shut with a loud crack, and it let out an angry growl, eyes blazing with frustration.

I tugged on the rope again, trying to get Tyrunt to calm down. "Tyrunt, hey! Look at me! It's okay, it's alright!" But Tyrunt's focus was on Brant, its teeth bared, its muscles tense. I could feel the rope straining in my hands, and I had to use all my strength just to hold it back.

Brant stepped back, holding up his hands, his face impassive. "That's enough," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Let's end it here."

I felt my stomach drop. "But—" I started, but Brant shook his head.

"Jack, it's clear Tyrunt isn't ready for this. It's not about you—it's just not listening when it counts. Right now, it's a liability, not just to you but to everyone else. It's too reactive."

I looked at Tyrunt, whose breathing was heavy, its eyes still locked on Brant, as if daring him to come closer. I could see the tension in its body, the frustration—it wasn't just about the test. Tyrunt didn't understand why it was being poked and prodded. It was confused, scared, and its instinct was to fight back.

"Alright," I said quietly, dropping my eyes. I could feel the weight of disappointment pressing down on me. "I understand."

Brant nodded, lowering the rod and turning away. "You've made progress, Jack. But it's not enough yet. Keep working on it here in the training area. We'll try again when Tyrunt can handle being pushed without snapping."