Hilbert felt Golett's presence return to him in full. It was unlikely anyone noticed their vessel suddenly dissolve, and if they did, they would have assumed they had just been recalled to a Pokéball and missed the light.
Falling towards the spirit below Oreburgh, Hilbert and Golett became one. The front of his shirt ripped as his stone heart tore through it, spiking outwards in chunks and shards of bluish stone. The scraps that remained and his jacket rippled behind him like a cape as the air tore through him.
The wind felt like the fingers of his mother, combing through his hair like he was a child, only about a hundred times faster, and much less pleasant. His hat had flown off at some point, though he hadn't noticed when it did.
The bottom of the elevator shaft became clear, as well as the fact that the spirit was much deeper.
Hilbert furrowed his brow, cocked back a fist, and with a punch, ordered it to move.
The Lights in the Sky Are Thunderbolts - VIII - Movin' On
The metal bent, popped, and cracked before peeling away to the sides. Below it, the ground split for him, opening the way through the mines and into the deepest parts of the underground. Hundreds of layers of ore deposits, gems, and minerals blurred past him as the earth shifted out of his way.
The light of the dim overheads quickly gave way to darkness. Lightning flickered in Hilbert's eyes, illuminating the tunnel for scarce moments, but without his rapidly weakening connection to Sinnoh, he would soon be practically blind.
As the malevolent spirit grew in volume, the all-encompassing spirit of Sinnoh seemed to fade. It was as if he was diving into the belly of the beast.
Suddenly, he was bathed in light as the tunnel widened into a massive cavern positively gleaming with gems and diamonds. Between the deposits that lined the walls and floors, a dozen pillars each thicker than a house joined together, and at the base of the cavern, in the very center, was the stem of the central branch. If it had been built above ground, it could be mistaken for an avant-garde skyscraper, but as it was, it was a pillar of bone-white stone.
The spirit's energy swirled around that pillar and seemed to focus into a single point, like light bending into a blackhole.
There was a sound like a freight train crashing into a mountain.
The pillar visibly cratered and cracked at its base.
Hilbert took a deep breath, unmoving in the air for a second before his eyes snapped over and his ears rolled with thunder.
He slammed into the hyper-dense floor of the cavern, feeling shattered diamond dust become even more packed beneath his feet. It exploded away from him, forming into great crystals that surrounded him and stuck outwards like palisades.
The spirit's energy wavered for a movement, and whatever movement had been directed towards the pillar had been redirected at him.
"I can see you!" Hilbert shouted, feeling electricity creeping up his throat. "You intend to hurt these people, these Pokémon? No! I WON'T ALLOW IT!"
Though with a force that moved mountains, the spirit energy lazily flowed towards him. It brought nothing but a draft as he stepped to the side.
The air became sharper, the lights brighter, though much more saturated. Each crackle that ran through his heart seemed to pop in his ears as he felt the spirit's energy change.
It had been indifferent in the times he had felt it before, but at that moment, its flow had changed. It had become much more focused. Was it so committed to bringing the entirety of Oreburgh down?
Hilbert spared a glance upwards. The cavern was easily a quarter of a mile tall, if not more. It was hard to see the actual ceiling through Sinnoh's branches, but he had no doubt that it held up the foundation of Oreburgh.
The spirit's energy coalesced into a fist, and though it had five digits, it was easily twice the size of Hilbert's skull and seemed to be textured like the granite walls around them. Even though it was clearly a ghost, being partially transparent and smoking like most apparitions did, it was certainly inhuman.
"You're a Pokémon, then?" Hilbert said, dodging as the spirit tried to strike again. It was the blow of someone who roughly knew what they were doing, though not much more. He assumed the present tense as the spirit could have been daemonic in origin, created by the conglomeration of excess spiritual energy and beliefs.
The air seemed to twist, and Hilbert felt the glare being foisted on him by the spirit. Another fist appeared, though it was left-handed unlike the first. The two joined together to charge at him in a flurry of blows, picking up speed like an avalanche rolling down Mount Coronet until they nearly reached terminal velocity.
Hilbert leapt backwards, generating some of the force with the earth beneath him, before he threw a pillar of crystal at the spirit's apparition, forming into a fist part way through the air.
The moment it made contact, it shattered before the shards tinkled to the floor.
The spirit began manifesting behind Hilbert, despite maintaining the apparition ahead. Was it attempting to trick him?
He rolled to the side, but not soon enough for him to avoid the sudden jolt of pain and a limp arm.
Hilbert looked at his dislocated shoulder, feeling each part of the metal built into his bones and focusing to keep it from dissolving into his bloodstream. He furrowed his brow and said, "That's great. More questions from Officer Jenny later."
He let both his arms fall to his sides and forced his shoulder back into place. If he had been anyone else, the punch would have taken his limb clean off. Though, perhaps clean wasn't the right word, since it would have taken most of the sinew and frame of his torso as well.
The spirit swirled into a single mass in front of him, where there now floated two sets of fists, generally arranged as if attached to a singular torso.
Before he could focus his vision, the spirit began condensing their energy into a form visible to even the naked eye. It bulged with invisible muscle, turning a gravelly gray and though transparent, the definition was clear. Below the torso and at each shoulder joint was only more smoke, and atop the torso was the spirit's head.
It wasn't a Pokémon he recognized, but it was close. It certainly didn't look like any other Machamp he had ever seen in life. The three ridges that were the species' equivalent of hair were spiked and rugged. Across its face was plastered scar-like tissue, like a burn that had never healed over, and its eyes were glassy and pearl-like, lacking pupils entirely.
Its jaw contorted as it screamed, ripping the skin around the apparition's lips. The deep, rumbling roar shook the walls and displaced crystals. Loose rocks fell from overhead, knocked against the branches on their way down.
Hilbert was buffeted by the heavy wind of spiritual pressure being released. He shielded his eyes with his arm out of instinct, letting dust rankle his clothes so he could keep his focus on the spirit.
In that pressure, though, he felt the spirit's intent. Rage, though not rage without reason. It was something deeper than some kind of territorial dispute. It was the sort of anger, Hilbert felt, that one could only have after repressing it, ignoring it, holding it back for a long, long time.
But that meant that maybe, just maybe, it was the kind of rage they could resolve.
Hilbert had hope.
He ignored Sinnoh's spirit and drew on his own energy. He didn't want to frighten the spirit into submission unless it was necessary, and from how they were treating Sinnoh's branches, he wasn't entirely sure the usual method would work.
So, as a person with a soul, an outsider looking in, Hilbert spread his arms and spirit wide and spoke.
"Communion!"
Machop was born like many others of their species, though their birthplace was somewhat unique. Though a Fighting-type and not meant by the Universe to be very intelligent, they could see as well as any other being could, even if they couldn't interpret what they saw particularly well.
Even at the time of their birth, Oreburgh was nestled in a small valley of Mount Coronet. The town had been settled for a long time, but the mine was not very prosperous.
A shipment of Machop eggs had been made, or "found" as some of the adult humans said to their offspring. Workers were needed for the mines.
Mining. Digging. Moving.
Machop was a simple being. They didn't desire much, accepting food and not too much abuse as a good life. Heck, when they worked really hard, they got an extra meal from the overseer, and a special charm to wear around their neck. When Machop wore it, human passersby would stop and look as he worked, awed by his strength and effort.
It was in this way that this particular Machop discovered gratitude.
Machop wore a happy smile on their face for the longest time. They dug, they pushed carts, they even got to eat with the human workers on occasion! They were restricted to the standard kibble rather than the nice smelling human food, but Machop understood that there were many more Pokémon than people in the world, they had to keep what they could. Machop thought they were pretty smart for a Fighting-type.
Because they ate more than the rest of their birth regiment, they were the first to evolve into a Machoke.
This was a cause for celebration, even if their award ribbon snapped upon evolution. He resolved to work even harder and get another one!
There were whispers between the mine workers that the Machop weren't supposed to evolve, since they could get into the small crevices that humans couldn't. It wasn't like they could start having human children in the mines, right? That would be immoral, and anyone who ordered such a thing would surely be visited by Darkrai in the night.
That was fine, though. Machoke would find other things that adult humans couldn't do, and do them super well! They would get a new ribbon.
Hilbert was torn, bodily, from the vision and thrown into the opposite wall. His guts were intact, though his ribs were probably bent and his heart now had a considerable dent in it.
The spirit breathed heavily, though it had no need to. It roared again, pounding its fists together though not approaching.
"You don't want to see that?" Hilbert asked. He wiped his mouth and breathed a sigh of relief when he found no blood. "You want me to leave?"
The spirit simply growled, though the sound alone still brought gravel to a rolling boil.
"Tough," Hilbert spat. "Don't mess with the people under my protection."
He threw out another fist, and a storm of crystals exploded from the walls while the floor rose up towards Machamp like Sinnoh's vengeance.
Their fists blurred into motion, and at the climax of each punch Hilbert felt the air ripples. Millions of grains of gemstones and rock drifted to the ground.
Cloaked by a smokescreen of physical attacks., Hilbert stabbed into the spirit with his own.
Another shipment of Machop arrived, but that was fine. Machoke was a unique worker, they knew it was the case.
The human miners had stumbled into a grand underground network of tunnels that they could hardly begin to map. With a great imagination, they called it the Grand Underground, and Machoke couldn't be happier. More routes mean more work to be done, and more work to be done meant more work for him to do.
There was slightly less gratitude from the people of Oreburgh, but that was because of something called… law of diminishing returns? The only law Machoke could really comprehend was the law that prevented wild Pokémon from attacking unarmed humans, but he had always known that. Instinct, was that what the humans called it?
Machoke kept working. Work. Work. Work. It would pay off. His life would mean something if he worked hard enough. He wasn't like the other Machop he was born alongside.
A trainer asked if Machoke wanted to join them on their journey. He, as far as he knew, respectfully declined. Humans were odd about showing their emotions, mainly as they showed the opposite of what they were feeling far too often for it to be a good indicator.
Machoke just worked. He mined. He dug.
Though, after enough trainers came around and asked the same question, Machoke realized that maybe that was how they expressed their gratitude. They saw that he was a hard worker and wanted that hard worker to work for them.
Alas, Machoke's only purpose was the mine, as far as they understood the concept of purpose.
Byron was a strange type of human, Machoke realized. They valued Machoke's ability to defend greater than their ability to attack.
The human stated that the best defense was a good offense.
To Machoke, that just meant he was the best at something, so he went along with Byron to see if the man could make him the best at anything else.
It may have also had something to do with him being related to the mine's owner. Relation didn't mean much to Machoke, since they weren't one of those Pokémon that could sniff out blood relation and not a Psychic-type that could pick up on generational trauma or shared neuroses or any of that complicated nonsense.
Eventually, Machoke began to enjoy Byron's company. He evolved into something greater, and grew another two arms. Though he had no ribbon to break this time, he resolved to work even harder to get an even larger ribbon.
It was about this time that Byron realized that he preferred to deal with Steel-types.
Apparently, despite his immense strength and power, Machamp was not a Steel-type. After a short goodbye from Byron, he was put to sleep and woke up back in the mines, being ordered to clear out a tunnel of trash and debris.
Machamp was a good worker. Betrayal? Was that the feeling of pain in his chest when Machamp recalled the time spent on the road with Byron, assisting in training with his Bastiodon and toughening them up?
No, it must have been something else. Machamp was a hard worker. Byron had definitely appreciated that, and just sent him back to the mines because that was where his work was best used.
Another wind ripped through the cavern. The spirit cried out in anguish at remembering, and anger at being forced to remember.
This was the vengeful spirit, Hilbert saw, the kind that had committed to the future, not resolving what had plagued them in life, but instead seeking out some poorly defined end goal that promised suffering for all beings involved.
Hilbert crossed his arms, eyes burning blue.
"A hard worker, then? What was it, then? Was there an accident that you blame all of Oreburgh for?"
The spirit exploded towards him, leaving cratered earth in their wake despite lacking legs.
Hilbert poured his spirit into the wall behind him, letting the earth swallow him up before the wall swelled outwards, stabbing through the spirit's corporeal form.
It did little other than dispel it for a few moments, but that was exactly what Hilbert needed. He backed into the pillar, bringing him closer to a tap of Sinnoh's power.
His Platinum Soul was predisposed to the electrical power of ideals (he avoided speaking the name in his mind, as that caused him to become hyper-focused on his ideals alone, rather than how he could make them reality), but he was still able to conduct energy fairly well.
The sliver of a sliver of Sinnoh's energy felt like fire in his veins, but he redirected it into the walls of the cavern as the spirit turned back towards him, practically snarling.
Stone slammed sideways, causing the earth to shake as the spiritual energy imbued in it struck against the spirit directly. It seemed dazed even as they smashed their way out of the short-lived rocky prison.
Leaping forward, Hilbert stabbed into it with a drill formed from his own energy.
Machamp built supports.
Ball.
Machamp dug tunnels.
Ball.
Machamp pushed more carts than the rest of the Pokémon combined.
Ball.
It wasn't that being placed in a Pokéball was unpleasant. Humans said that it was like dreaming, despite never experiencing it themselves. Humans like to guess about things they had no experience with.
But that wasn't Machamp's purpose. He needed to work harder. That was what he had to do.
That was all he had.
The humans appreciated that, right? There just wasn't enough work to go around, and the new generation needed to learn the ropes.
Machamp heard about the food costs, though money was another thing he couldn't quite grasp. He ate much more than the Machop and rare Machoke, but he was a hard worker, it was only natural.
They started feeding Machamp less. That was fair, fair was fair, fairness was good. The new Machop needed to be strong enough to work and do what was needed for the humans. Machamp didn't…
Machamp fit into that! He knew he did!
But he was growing old… that was also true. So much time had passed while he was in his Pokéball, too many bursts of strain with no time to acclimate and rest, and he had evolved pretty quickly into his lifespan.
He was a hard worker. Maybe it was time to rest.
The spirit seemed distracted, pulled out of the vision by the thought process alone.
The sound of the pulley turning was faint compared to the constant rumbling of the cavern. Hilbert turned and saw Roark descending through the hole he had dug towards the spirit, holding onto a rappelling rope.
"Kuroiwa!" Roark shouted, "Are you alright?"
"For now," Hilbert said, keeping his attention on the spirit. "Listen, it's dangerous! Stay back!"
His warning kept the gym leader away for the moment, as the spirit exploded towards him once again.
"That's…" Roark began, "That's Machamp!"
Hilbert took the obvious statement to heart, ducking under and through the barrage of blows and striking directly with his spirit.
Machamp died. They were buried a bit outside Oreburgh, a little off of Cycling Road in a rarely visited nook in the mountains.
Clearly, for such a hard worker, they needed lots of space to build a tomb worthy of his greatness.
The grave was marked, though the name was not. Machamp had no need for a name, after all. All humans had names, but only the best Pokémon were given them.
Why hadn't Machamp gotten a nickname, then? Was he wrong to think that? Had he been mistaken?
No, that was had been nothing but hard work, all his life. All his life. All his life. Work. Work harder. Be the best worker. Make them appreciate you.
No one visited Machamp's grave. It was one of many in a graveyard that was not quite wilderness, but not quite suburban. That was fine. They were working hard, they didn't have time.
Time.
All that time.
Work.
Work harder, Machamp. Chase that ribbon. Chase that gratitude.
They didn't have time for him.
Good reason, they had a good reason.
They didn't have time.
They never had time.
Byron never visited. His son had arrived in town, set up shop in the gym that Machamp built, and hadn't so much as visited the grave once after the burial.
Machamp lingered in Oreburgh, knowing somehow that he would never be noticed. He saw buildings he had mixed the concrete for, or laid the foundation for, or placed the pillars for. It was nostalgic.
No one visited his grave. The buildings had plaques on them, sometimes.
Machamp couldn't read human languages, but he had the feeling that he wasn't mentioned on them.
Why was that?
Had they forgotten him?
How did they do that?
How could they?
He built Oreburgh. He was there when the mines were still operated with ropes and pulleys. He had built some of those conveyor belts.
They forgot him.
They forgot him.
They forgot.
They couldn't be allowed to forget.
He wouldn't let them.
He couldn't let them.
Even if it meant reminding them.
And if that reminder didn't work, he would tear down what he built. And if he had built the town into what it was, then he would tear that down too.
Tear it down.
Even if he had to go to the roots of the world tree and tear them from the earth, he would make them know his name.
He wouldn't be left behind.
Machamp let out a roar so deep Hilbert could hardly hear it. It reverberated through the entire earth before it finally reached his ears.
"So that's it? Gratitude is what you want?" Hilbert asked.
Machamp was quiet for a moment.
They blitzed into movement, spectral tears running down their face as they barraged Hilbert with a thousand fists.
He crossed his arms, feeling the blows become more wide and unfocused. Each bone in his arm was broken and reforged in the span between blinks, an untold number of times per second.
But he had to hold on. He couldn't say that he honestly followed his ideals unless he did.
Electricity lanced from his skin and forced Machamp away.
"Your rage is the rage of those left behind?" Hilbert asked between breaths, panting heavily. Golett had enveloped his entire chest as he pushed his power further than he had ever before in the real world.
Machamp growled again, but made no advance.
"So, you're a weapon of your beliefs," Hilbert stated. "Huh. I can almost respect that."
He threw one arm out to the side, pulling earth into its orbit, before pointing the other directly upwards towards Oreburgh.
Machamp shot forwards again, but was pushed back by an orb of electricity that exploded out of Hilbert's heart. Blue lightning arced in a sphere around him like he was a tesla coil and shielded him from the other spirit.
"Just because you can't see something, or because you're not its focus, doesn't mean it doesn't exist!" Light seemed to reflect off of the tip of his finger, making it gleam like a star.
He pushed his spirit upwards, latching onto the faint spirits of everyone that lived in Oreburgh.
"Your rage is the rage of those left behind?" Hilbert asked again, though with more bite. "Fine. But there's more than what you leave behind. There's also what follows!"
The excess spirit energy of Oreburgh began drifting from the ceiling, falling around the branches and towards them like snow.
When they made contact with Hilbert's shield, however, there were small 'zap's as they blinked into his heart.
Around his free arm, a drill began to form.
"That's nothing!" Hilbert shouted. "I've got something that will always be stronger than anger!"
The drill took a solid form from the stone, taking on a distinct metallic sheen as it grew.
"My drill is the hopes and dreams of people and Pokémon alike!"
Machamp growled, and tried once more to breach his field of lightning, only for it to begin enveloping the apparition's skin. Worse, it began dragging the entirety of their spirit into their artificial body.
"My drill is the gratitude of those that follow!" A blizzard of spiritual energy came down from the cavern's roof and from Roark, all swirling into Hilbert's arm and growing the drill until it shined like platinum.
Hilbert broke into a run, as if the weight on his arm wasn't there. He leapt into the air, bringing the drill to bear on the spirit's chest.
"My drill…" Hilbert began, his eyes burning brighter than neutron stars as his voice rose to a roar, "Is the DRILL THAT WILL PIERCE THE HEAVENS!"
The minerals around Hilbert's fist dissolved and blew away in a stale wind.
Behind him, the spirit's body was floating spread-eagle. Electricity crackled in the gaping hole in their torso. Its face was contorted in pain, despite lacking nerves.
Hilbert looked over his shoulder. "I won't force you to pass on, not now. Talk with Roark. If you threaten him, though, I'm not giving you a choice."
The spirit's focus shifted in the air, the energy leaking from their form redirecting towards the gym leader.
"Machamp," Roark called, though still shocked by the spirit's appearance. He gulped and said, "We didn't forget you. You worked yourself to the bone, and we wanted you to have peace in death. We didn't want you to worry about us anymore. We wanted you to move on."
The spirit cried out, its mouth widening even further as spectral tears ran down its face.
"I'm sorry. I know most people don't think anything of you and what you've done. We're flawed creatures, humans, and I'm sorry."
Machamp's form began to dissolve, and on their face was an expression of painful anguish, but also one of peace, a strain finally released on their soul.
"I won't forget, Machamp," Roark said, "You can move on."
Though lacking legs, the spirit fell to their knees and began to fade.
Their spiritual energy began to wink out, disappearing particle by particle, until their presence had entirely disappeared.
Hilbert let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
Roark looked over to him, shaking despite trying hard not to. "What… what was that?"
"Spirits are real," Hilbert said simply. "I'll give you a minute."
Roark seemed to be reasonable enough, though he was only a few years older than Hilbert. It was also true that most people didn't put much stock in Hilbert's trade, or believe in anything more than Ghost-types.
He opened his mouth to speak again, only for the earth to begin rumbling again.
Sinnoh's spirit rushed upwards in full force, taking back the space that the malevolent spirit had filled. Energy rushed back into their branches, attempting to reinforce the structure-
Only for it to crack.
Hilbert could only watch as shards of the branch's base began to splinter and fall off. The damage done before and during the fight must have been too much for it to handle.
He bit off a swear. "Roark, get back!" He ran towards the branch, electricity running up and down his arms.
The branch's base had been narrowed by the spirit's attacks, much like a tree would be by a training Oshawott. It had been worn thin to the size of a single boulder, and it was beginning to shift.
Rocks began to fall from the ceiling, starting small and then beginning to reach Hilbert's size. The rumbling all around him was deafening.
Just as the branch snapped, falling to the slide, Hilbert caught it with his fingers.
Not that he could do much. He hardly slowed it before bracing himself. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he pushed the branches back until he was holding it over his head.
He couldn't hold it for long, though. Another quake brought him to his knees, and he was forced to bear the entire weight on his back. Only by pouring more metal and minerals into his bones was he able to take the strain, and even then, just barely.
"I've… got… a… DREAM!" Hilbert shouted, even as his blood vessels burst and his nose began bleeding. "I won't let this world down! Not now…" he said, his knees creaking, "Not ever!"
"Kuroiwa!" Roark yelled, though his voice was drowned out by the cavern beginning to cave in
Hilbert looked up at all the branches he was holding up, all of the spirits that were still alive far above him.
"Even if I'm unknown, even if no one cares," he said, more to himself than anyone, "I'll save them! That's what it means to be a hero, becoming like that's the point of moving forwards!"
The branch above him began to shift, melting almost into a cone.
"That's…"
The base of the branch he kneeled on began to shift as well.
"That's how a drill works!"
He threw the gates of his soul wide open, accepting Sinnoh's energy. Light shimmered around his body, seemingly turning him bone white. If he had to become a part of Sinnoh's body to save them, that's what he would do. Even if it took years to free himself, he would make that sacrifice.
Suddenly, the weight lessened. All around him, smoking fists unclenched into palms and pushed the branch upwards.
"Machamp…" Hilbert said.
The spirit's assurance flowed through the air like honey.
He leapt away from the branch's base, letting the spirit hold it up for a moment. "Alright!" Crackling with electricity, Hilbert swung and punched into the earth, wielding Sinnoh's spirit.
The fossilized branches loosened, the minerals within them shifting towards each other in spiraling cones. Where they met, they melted into each other as if digging into molten magma and hardened, creating new bone to support them.
Hilbert felt his skin begin to blacken from the sheer energy transfer but pushed on anyway.
The bone shifted from being red-hot to a dull orange, and eventually cooled until it was only a few shades lighter than the surrounding branches.
Hilbert fell to his knees, feeling relief as silence filled the cavern. He would have to take an inventory of his injuries later. He only had a few cuts and scrapes, and with all of the minerals in his blood at the moment, he could keep himself from bleeding out. The strains and burns could be dealt with later, as the majority were on his limbs and torso, rather than his face.
Roark swore unintelligibly, then asked "Are you alright, Kuroiwa?" The man was practically shouting in his ears.
Hilbert picked one out with his pinky and said, "You're starting to sound like a broken record. I can take care of my own injuries. The town is safe now, and that branch isn't going anywhere."
"Is Machamp still here?" Roark asked, looking around rapidly.
"In a sense," Hilbert said, still breathing heavily. "I don't think you'll have to worry about him anymore."
"What was all that? I… I've never seen anything like it," Roark said.
So, as Roark secured him to the pulley and shouted upwards for someone to pull, Hilbert explained. The tunnel sealed behind them, shifting back into place with a rumble before becoming silent once again.
Hilbert said that some things are best left kept secret.
Roark agreed to keep the exact events secret as they ascended. There would have to be a story they told to the rest of the town's population, but it didn't have to disclose Hilbert's nature.
The elevator shaft was still broken, though to most if would seem that the Underground was as far as they had gone. Golett covered Hilbert's tracks, beginning to recede back into his heart as their spirits became distinct once again.
His shirt was still torn to shit, but he would take what he could get.
He blinked rapidly as they reemerged in the gym. It was still standing, though even from a passing glance he could tell it was a little worse for wear. The stands sagged in some places, and a few windows had been cracked.
Immediately, cheers for Roark went up. From their perspective, he had descended, the earthquake had stopped, and then brought back the kid that seemed to fall to his death.
Hilbert didn't think he had much of a reason to dissuade them of that notion. Sure, it might give him more credibility, but having that much attention could bring problems.
He excused himself after being unhooked from the harness, and started to go find his bag. He'd left it somewhere on the surface, he was certain…
"Where are you going?" Roark asked, confusion clear on his face.
Hilbert waved him off. "I'm gonna hit the hay early. Thanks, but I'm tired."
A burly worker suddenly cuffed him by the shoulder, pushing him back. "You better respect Gym Leader Roark, boy! Is that how you thank someone that just saved your life?"
Hilbert was about to answer, but was interrupted.
"Stop!" Roark shouted, raising a finger. "I won't have anyone lay a single finger on that man! Hilbert Kuroiwa saved this town. If you have an issue with him, you come talk to me, got it? You all owe him your livelihoods!"
The worker stepped back, seeming shocked, before muttering an apology and walking away.
"It was nothing," Hilbert insisted, a little annoyed that Roark was doing the exact opposite of what he wanted.
"You've done us a great service," Roark said. "Name it, and I'll see that you're rewarded."
Hilbert considered it for a moment.
"Got anything to help with burns?"
Roark eventually got him burn salve along with his gym badge, though didn't let him go without assuring him that if he ever needed something from the Oreburgh mines, he could have it.
There were whispers of confusion, Hilbert already heard, so he figured it was a matter of time until people started thinking something sketchy was going on. He agreed just to get out of the situation faster. He might even take up that offer, eventually.
He was adjusting his badge on his jacket pocket when he was suddenly blindsided and nearly sent flying.
"Hilby, what's up!?"
He found his footing pretty easily, which was handy, as it allowed him to punch Barry in the stomach with all the power necessary.
The blond doubled over and groaned, though Hilbert swore he heard a chuckle mixed in.
"If you're here, then…" Hilbert said, trailing off.
Sure enough, Lucas ran to catch up and Dawn strolled over a few seconds later. The former looked just a little winded, while the latter looked a combination of exasperated and resigned.
It must have been the adrenaline wearing off and affecting his thought process, but for a split second, Hilbert thought that the way her nose wrinkled when she was annoyed was sort of cute.
He shut that down fast, rest assured. Cooties and all that.
Barry unfolded and stretched out. "Anyway, I heard you were battling Roark! Did you win?"
"Yeah," Hilbert said, simply pointing at the badge on his pocket. He suddenly realized how beaten up his jacket was, furrowing his brow and adding, "I think I'll have to patch this thing up at some point…"
Lucas nodded. "Barry and I have registered, but we'll be on the waitlist for a few days."
"Happens. I was actually about to head back to the inn and get some food," Hilbert said. "I'm pretty beat."
"I'll say," Dawn said, "You look like a train wreck."
"Feel like it, too," Hilbert said with a nod.
She gave him the look again, so clearly he'd missed something and looked like an idiot.
"If you guys haven't checked in yet, I can show you the way," Hilbert offered.
They didn't have much reason to decline between the three of them.
Hilbert almost got past the front desk before being interrupted.
The front desk attendant was still the pimply young adult he'd seen in the days before, though they'd rapidly stood up as he left the others to pay for room and board.
"Excuse me, Mr. Kuroiwa!" the attendant said. "I've been asked by Gym Leader Roark to have you moved to one of our quality suites, is that alright?"
Hilbert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It hadn't even been an hour. "Yeah, that's fine, I've got all my things in my bag, anyway."
It was a sad thing when he had to carry his clothes everywhere for when what he was wearing inevitably got torn to shreds.
As it turned out, the quality room was at least four times larger than his normal room, contained two queen sized beds, a daybed, a television, a computer and phone for front desk service-
His eyes were already wide at this point, so he stopped looking for things to be shocked by and took the packet of room cards without another word.
"...So, Hilbert, it's looking like you've got room to spare!" Barry said, having followed and brought the others with him.
Hilbert shrugged off his jacket. "Yeah, I guess you guys can stay here. You've got to stick around and I should probably take it easy for a bit."
"I can't stay in the same room as a bunch of boys!" Dawn said, trying and failing to not sputter.
Hilbert looked at her blankly, before double checking the massive hole in his shirt. "The Professor, your parents, and their parents okayed you all traveling together. I'm sure they expected you to room together at some point. Saves money. Also, if they do anything I can just kill 'em two hundred percent dead." He looked back at all of them. "Also, I need to take off my shirt, do you guys mind?"
"No," Lucas said.
Barry shook his head, "Nah, but I gotta know, how do you kill someone two hundred perc- Oh, what the hell, man?"
Hilbert's back and upper arms were covered in patches of black and white, mixed in with raw, red skin and massive gashes, which while not bleeding, were by no means healed.
He threw his shirt onto presumably his bed, went over to his bag, and withdrew the tub of burn salve without answering. "Don't worry about it," he said, unscrewing the top and beginning to rub it into his shoulder. He winced at the cool relief before feeling a bit of tension leave him.
"Those are electrical burns," Dawn said after a moment. "What happened?"
"Again," Hilbert said, "Don't worry about it. Can one of you run and get some ice cream? Sinistea can help cool me down if you do."
Barry seemed to be at a loss for words for once. "Woah. Hilby, are you going on adventures without us?"
As soon as the nickname left Barry's mouth, using his free hand, Hilbert threw his bag at Barry.
The blond dodged, caught it and put it down without a thought. Though that wasn't saying much, since that was his usual way of doing things.
"I had heard that his gym battle was interrupted," Lucas muttered, "Maybe it was related?"
"Okay, shut up," Hilbert said, furrowing his brow. "I don't want to talk about it and I'm not talking to you guys about it." He sat down and kicked off his shoes. "I told you what I'm doing in Sinnoh a couple weeks ago, I'm not repeating myself. I help people. It's not an adventure, it's just what I do."
Barry looked taken aback for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, alright. Sorry for pushing you, man."
"It's all good," Hilbert said. "I'm just kind of tired. Can one of you grab me a towel, I might just…" Hilbert yawned, "Pass out right here."
Lucas ducked into the bathroom, and a few seconds later, tossed him a towel.
"You guys can decide the bed situation," Hilbert said, laying it out behind him and stretching. "I'm going to sleep for a bit."
His head hit the pillow, and just like that, he was out like a light.
AN:
R&R, please. Validation fuels me and flames only make me burn brighter. Thanks for reading!