But first, Micah thought, watching the time tick toward 11 PM, he needed rest. The analysis could wait until morning when his brain wasn't foggy from exhaustion.

  He packed up his materials and headed back to his quarters, where Donny and Bellatrix were waiting. The Rhyhorn was sprawled on his cushioned mat, snoring softly, while Bellatrix sat alert near the door, ears perked at Micah's entrance.

  "Hey, girl," Micah whispered, not wanting to wake Donny.

  Bellatrix's tail wagged slightly,her version of acknowledgment without making noise.

  Micah knelt beside her, scratching behind her ears the way she liked. "You know you don't have to be at 100% 24/7, right? You're allowed to rest too."

  The Houndour leaned into his touch, but her eyes remained alert, scanning the doorway behind him. Always vigilant. It was who she was.

  "Alright," Micah said affectionately. "But at least come sit with me."

  He settled onto the floor between both Pokemon, back against the wall. Donny stirred at the movement, one eye cracking open to identify the disturbance. Seeing Micah, the Rhyhorn made a pleased rumbling sound and scooted closer, resting his heavy head on Micah's lap.

  "Oof, you're getting big, buddy," Micah grunted, but didn't push him away. He ran one hand over Donny's rocky hide while the other continued scratching behind Bellatrix's ears.

  Sitting there in the quiet, both Pokemon content and close, Micah felt some of the day's stress finally drain away. This was what mattered, he realized. Not just the tournament or proving himself to the facility.

  "Big day tomorrow," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Training session in the morning, then we analyze that footage Brennan gave us. Figure out how to handle a Mawile that resists everything you've got, Donny."

  The Rhyhorn snuffled but didn't wake fully.

  "I know I've been asking a lot of you both lately. Tournament prep, constant training, all this pressure." Micah's voice dropped lower. "I just want you to know I'm proud of you. Both of you. Win or lose Monday, we've already come so far."

  Bellatrix shifted, pressing closer against his side. Her way of saying she was listening.

  "Dr. Sato keeps telling me to focus on things I can control. So that's what we'll do. We'll prepare the best we can, we'll execute our strategy with confidence, and we'll make sure Yuki knows she's in a real battle." He smiled faintly. "Everything else is just noise."

  They sat like that for another twenty minutes,Micah's version of meditation, he supposed. Just existing in the moment with his Pokemon, no strategy or anxiety or pressure. Just companionship.

  Eventually, Micah's eyelids grew heavy. "Alright, you two. Actual sleep time."

  He carefully extracted himself from under Donny's head, eliciting a disgruntled snort from the Rhyhorn, and headed to his bunk. But before climbing in, he retrieved a grooming brush from his supplies.

  "C'mere, Bellatrix. Quick brush before bed."

  The Houndour approached, sitting patiently while Micah worked through her dark fur, removing the day's accumulated dust from training. She leaned into the strokes, eyes half-closing in contentment.

  "There you go. All pretty." He moved to Donny next, using a firmer brush designed for rock-types, working carefully around the horn and the more sensitive areas near his eyes. "And you, handsome. Can't have my battle partners looking scruffy."

  Donny made pleased rumbling sounds, clearly enjoying the attention.

  When both Pokemon were groomed and settled, Micah finally climbed into bed. But sleep didn't come immediately. He lay there in the dark, listening to Donny's rhythmic breathing and Bellatrix's occasional shifts of position, his mind still processing everything.

  The footage Brennan provided. The Mawile's overreaction to Fire-type threats. The possibility of bluffing coverage they didn't have.

  But also, Yuki's psychological warfare. Her clinical assessment that dismissed him as lucky rather than skilled. The pressure of the finals, the expectation that he'd lose.

  Dr. Sato's words echoed back “You can't control the outcome, only your preparation and execution.”.

  Micah exhaled slowly, consciously relaxing his shoulders. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but right now, in this moment, everything was okay. He had his Pokemon, he had a plan forming, and he had people supporting him.

  That was enough.

  Sleep finally claimed him somewhere around midnight, his dreams a confused jumble of battle scenarios and type matchup charts.

  Micah woke to his bedframe creaking dangerously and Donny's horn poking his shoulder insistently.

  "Mmph. Five more minutes," he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head.

  The horn poked harder, accompanied by an impatient snort.

  "Alright, alright. I'm up." Micah sat up, squinting in the early morning light filtering through his window. His PokeNav showed 6:47 AM,earlier than he'd planned, but Donny apparently had other ideas.

  Bellatrix was already awake, sitting by the door expectantly.

  "Okay, team. Breakfast first, then training room."

  They went through their morning routine. quick meal in the cafeteria (mineral-enriched kibble for Donny, protein-rich pellets for Bellatrix, scrambled eggs and toast for Micah), followed by a short walk around the facility grounds for Bellatrix's stroll patrol.

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  By 8:15 AM, they were in Training Room 3,Micah's preferred space, with good ventilation and reinforced walls.

  "Alright, strategic breakdown time," Micah announced, pulling out his tablet loaded with the research he'd compiled. "Donny, Bellatrix, attention up here."

  Both Pokemon focused on him, Donny sitting attentively while Bellatrix remained standing, alert.

  "So. Our finals opponent is Yuki Nakamura, and her Pokemon is a Mawile. Steel and Fairy type." Micah pulled up an image on his tablet. "Here's what we're dealing with."

  He began laying out the statistical reality, trying to keep his tone analytical rather than defeated.

  "The average Mawile outspeeds the average Rhyhorn, by enough to matter. Similar attack potency too, so in a straight-up physical exchange, you're roughly matched power-wise, Donny."

  Donny snorted, as if offended by the comparison.

  "However," Micah continued, "you have advantages. The average Mawile is slightly weaker in raw defense than a Rhyhorn, and significantly weaker in HP. If this becomes a battle of attrition, you can outlast it. You're built to tank hits and keep fighting."

  He paused, steeling himself for the bad news.

  "The problem is typing. Mawile resists both Rock-type moves,your Rock Blast,and Normal-type moves,your Horn Attack. Both your primary offensive options are fighting at reduced effectiveness." He pulled up a type chart. "Meanwhile, Mawile knows Steel-type moves, which are super effective against you."

  Donny's expression shifted, processing this information with visible concern.

  "I'm not telling you this to scare you," Micah said quickly. "I'm telling you so we can plan around it. We can't change your move pool overnight, but we can change our strategy."

  He pulled up the footage Brennan had provided.

  "Here's where it gets interesting. Mawile has two weaknesses, Fire and Ground. Now, Brennan suggested we could bluff having Fire-type coverage,make Yuki think you learned a Fire move, exploit her Mawile's fear response to create openings."

  Micah hesitated, glancing at Bellatrix.

  "The problem is, I don't have the resources to actually teach you a Fire-type move. TMs are expensive and-"

  That's when Bellatrix's ears swiveled backward, her attention shifting sharply to something behind Micah.

  "What is-"

  Micah turned around and immediately jumped backward with a yelp.

  Floating exactly one inch from his face was Claydol, its expressionless ancient eyes staring directly into his soul, rotating slowly on its axis.

  "HOLY-"

  "Good morning, Micah."

  Maxie stepped into view from behind the Claydol, expression neutral but with the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. "I apologize for startling you. Claydol has a habit of getting... close to people it finds interesting."

  Micah pressed a hand to his chest, heart hammering.

  "Breathe," Maxie suggested calmly. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

  Micah did so, forcing himself to calm down while Claydol continued its slow rotation, unbothered by the commotion it had caused. Donny approached the Psychic-type curiously, sniffing at its levitating form.

  "I wanted to congratulate you on your victory against Brennan," Maxie continued, as if he hadn't just accidentally given Micah a minor heart attack. "I intended to do so earlier, but administrative meetings ran long last week. Then I decided to give you time to celebrate with your friends rather than interrupt."

  "Oh. Thank you, sir." Micah straightened, trying to recover some dignity. "I was just,we were analyzing the finals matchup."

  "So I heard. Mawile presents a tough challenge with its numerous resistances." Maxie's gaze moved to the tablet display, quickly scanning Micah's notes. "Your research is thorough. Impressive tactical breakdown for someone with limited competitive experience."

  Micah felt warmth creep into his cheeks at the praise. "I'm just doing what I need to prepare properly."

  There was a pause. Micah seized the moment before he could talk himself out of it.

  "Sir, could you,would it be possible to get a Fire-type TM disk? For Donny? To learn a move that would give us coverage against Mawile's weakness?"

  The pause that followed was slightly awkward. Maxie regarded him with that unreadable expression, and Micah was about to backtrack, apologize for asking, when,

  Maxie composed himself almost immediately,”While I could provide a TM," he said calmly, "it would represent a gross misappropriation of research funds that could be better allocated elsewhere in our department. TM disks for non-essential training purposes don't fit within our budget parameters."

  Micah deflated slightly. Of course. He should have known better than to ask. "Right. Sorry, that was,"

  He let out a sigh, already trying to recalculate his strategy without the Fire-type coverage.

  "However," Maxie continued, interrupting Micah's spiral, "TMs are not the only method for Pokemon to learn new moves."

  Micah looked up.

  "Pokemon can be tutored by other Pokemon or by specialized move tutors," Maxie explained. "It's a significantly longer process than using a TM,requiring compatible typing, patient instruction, and natural aptitude. But it's an option, if you have time and the right teacher."

  Micah's eyes immediately went to Bellatrix. "You could teach Donny! You know Fire-type moves, you could-"

  "Unlikely to succeed in your available timeframe," Maxie interjected smoothly. "While possible, several factors work against you. Donny is not a Fire-type, which means Fire-type energy is fundamentally alien to him natural abilities. Bellatrix, while competent in Fire-type execution, has no experience teaching moves to other Pokemon. Additionally, Donny's Ground-type nature is antithetical to Fire,the energy types oppose each other conceptually, making it more difficult for him to grasp the technique."

  Shot down again. Micah let out another sigh, this one tinged with frustration,

  Wait.

  The facility is full of Ground-type specialists.

  Micah's head snapped up, the realization hitting like a thunderbolt. If Donny learning Fire from Bellatrix was unlikely because of type incompatibility, then the solution was obvious. Teach him a Ground-type move from a Ground-type Pokemon.

  He fumbled for his PokeNav, fingers moving quickly.

  Micah: Do you know anyone who could teach Ground-type moves to Donny? Time sensitive.

  The response came almost immediately.

  Brannan: I know someone. Not sure if they'll accept, but I can ask. If they refuse, my Numel could try teaching basics. Where are you?

  Micah: Training Room 3. Thank you so much.

  Brennan: Be there in 30.

  Micah looked up from his PokeNav to find Maxie watching him with that same evaluating expression.

  "An interesting choice," Maxie said after a moment. "Though I'm curious,why didn't you simply ask me to teach Donny a move? My Camerupt is quite experienced with Ground-type techniques."

  The question caught Micah off-guard, but he forced himself to meet Maxie's gaze directly.

  "Because you're a busy man, sir," he said honestly. "You're a division leader with research responsibilities and administrative duties. If people found out you took time out of your schedule to personally help me prepare for a tournament match..." He paused. "They might see it as you giving me an unfair advantage. And that would undermine everything I've been working for. I need to earn this on my own."

  The silence that followed felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. Maxie continued watching him, expression unreadable, until finally he nodded once.

  "I look forward to your match, Micah." He turned toward Claydol, who had apparently gotten bored of hovering menacingly and was now playing what looked like an elaborate game of aerial tag with Donny around the training room. "Claydol, we're leaving."

  The Psychic-type floated over reluctantly, giving Donny one last playful rotation before positioning itself beside Maxie.

  "Good luck," Maxie added, heading toward the door. He paused at the threshold. "Though I suspect you'll find that luck has little to do with it."

  Then he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him.

  Micah stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened.

  Then just accepetd it and moved on.