The Selection Course

Ok so the 'Selection Course' is inspired by the Hunger Games, but it's different. There are no people, just Pokémon. (This focuses on Eevee and its evolutions) Hope you like it :)

What should be a happy day for Mira, it being her evolution day, was grim.

For Mira was leaving her innocence that was her refuge from day one behind, evolution for an eevee was like a pidove hatchling breaking from its shell.

It becomes exposed to the elements, to pain, to emotion, to life itself.

You either make nature's cut or you don't.

There is no room for the weak.

Not in Mira's world, not in any world.

You kill or be killed.

It's the basics of living.

As soon as Mira's aura is identified she will enter her very own, personal living hell known to most as 'The Selection Course'.

A cruel 'game' if you would call it.

Seven biomes.

Each with limited resources, you run out of food (or even water depending on your biome) you will most likely have to kill other participants of the sick course to secure your own survival for that moment in time.

Why does such a course exist?

The Kingdom of Aura wants only real eeveelutions, only the ones that can fight and have a good survival mode to refer to in battle.

This is how the kingdom is rarely messed with and has never lost a war in the last seventy years, making 'The Selection Course' a welcomed event for those who have already survived the course themselves.

Even parents of the participants welcome it.

For they never actually meet their children until they come out of the games (dead or alive).

Only the royals get to raise their children up until the games.

As soon as an egg is created, it is taken to one of three base camps in the forest and raised by a hand-full of other Pokémon.

It just makes things easier.

Some may call such a harsh game like this madness, they call it self disposal.

The weak dispose of themselves while the strong triumph over the weak and thrive in the harshness of the game.

Even the royalty have their children participate; for a weak king or queen is like having a weak core: cores are what stabilize the body, having a weak core causes one to slouch, to appear weakened.

A weakened core is just a kingdom waiting to trip and fall.

"Now Mira, give me your right paw. If you must then look away." The Espeon directed, her voice emotionless.

My eyes strayed to my deformed right paw, I tucked it more under me and offered my left instead.

"Your right paw, Mira." The Espeon repeated.

"But-"

"Now, Mira." Espeon growled.

I let out a squeak of submission and held out the twisted, deformed mess of a paw, tucking my good paw back.

The idea of a needle pricking me, especially on my bad paw made me cringe in fear.

I turned my head away, my ears flattened in nervousness as I slowly complied.

I drew in a deep breath and forced myself to stop shaking and loosen up so the psychic Pokémon could do her job.

To distract myself from the needle about to be lodged into my skin, I looked to the sign at the camp entrance.

The sign's print was worn and washed away from countless thunder storms and from just time itself 'Camp .03' it read.

A sharp jab to my paw caused me to flinch, the deformed paw being extremely sensitive to touch or pressure. I was born with the disaster, making my chances of surviving the course go from a fifty percent chance to around a two percent chance.

Everyone at the camp would look sadly and sympathetically at me anytime I clumsily walked around camp or around the forest.

I would hear them murmur to one another about how I would die in the games, some of the crueler members would make up 'death scenarios' that could happen to me in the games.

Everyone says I won't last more than a few days, if even.

Did it sadden me?

Yes and no.

I don't want to die, but I don't want to live under the kingdom's rule that makes its own subjects fight one another to the death for food and other resources.

My eyes peered innocently at the blood that was drawn from me, now enslaved by the Espeon's psychic attack.

Espeon guided the loose blood into a bottle of water, shaking the bottle vigorously until water and blood became one. "Um miss, why did you prick my bad paw?" I asked, licking the small bloody mark on my twisted paw.

The psychic Pokémon didn't answer immediately.

"Miss?"

"Your weakness is where yourself truly lies, believe it or not, it is the purest part of you." She answered, not looking at me.

I nodded, looking at my twisted paw, unable to imagine that my purest point would be this monstrosity.

My eyes gave a glimmer of excitement as Espeon carried the bottle to the special sundial that lay in the center of camp.

This sundial had been used for centuries to determine the auras of the soon to evolve eevee.

It was mystifying how it worked: all it takes is for a trained psychic Pokémon to place a single drop of mixed blood and water in its center.

The true colors of the Pokémon with its blood drawn is then revealed.

My eyes watched my drop of blood change colors rapidly from black, to red, to yellow, to purple, to a deep blue, to green, to a light blue over and over again, the colors slowed a tad, now going from black, to red, to yellow, to green, to a deep blue.

Please Arceus have mercy on me! I murmured to myself, praying that the aura test would give me an eeveelution that I could work with.

The colors slowed once more, going from black, to yellow, to green.

Here comes the final two. I thought, excitement creeping into my brain.

It slowed even more, going now from yellow to green.

The ceremony reminded me of a dying heart, it goes quickly at first, then it slows until it's final beat.

Finally, it stopped.

The drop was half yellow, half green.

"Your aura is split into two. Quite rare. It seems that you are most like a jolteon or a leafeon. Which evolution would you like?" She asked quietly.

A big part of me wanted to pick jolteon so I could run faster than light, I hadn't ever run before.

My eyes strayed to my bad paw.

I remembered the words that had been ushered when I had been checked over after my hatching: 'We won't abandon this one, for there is a chance that her paw will correct itself during evolution, it isn't guaranteed though.' There was only a chance that my deformed paw would reform during the evolution process, if it doesn't and I pick jolteon (a Pokémon that relies on its speed) than I'm screwed.

I thought about my other option: leafeon.

The idea of being more flora than fauna was a little creepy in my opinion, but at least they can blend in more, and they can learn magical leaf: the move that never misses.

Leafeon seemed like a much more logical choice. "I pick leafeon." I decided.

The espeon nodded, sliding a shard of a mossy rock towards me.

I inhaled deeply before touching my nose to the rock.

Bursts of energy and adrenaline filled my body, making me feel invincible as the light of evolution engulfed me.

My confidence however was short lived.

The light quickly faded out, revealing my new form.

My eyes twinkled in disappointment as I saw that my paw was still twisted and disturbing to the eye.

Murmurs of sympathy sounded from the watching crowd.

I'm gonna …die.

How'd I do?