The sun was beginning to set in Nuvema Town, far over the trees and into the distant waters. Even through leafless trees and dulled evergreens, an orange tone sank into everything the light touched.
Cheren and Bianca ascended the steps to the second floor of Professor Juniper's lab. The former was cool and collected, while the latter had a worried expression.
Hilda was standing at the window, holding onto the railing of the loft. Her stare was intense, and the grip she had on the rail even more so.
Cheren trailed a finger along it as he approached, before recoiling. It was scorching hot, like the hood of a car that had been in the sun all day, even though it was indoors during the winter.
He shook his head. That wasn't what they were there for.
Bianca spoke first, leaning into the other girl and giving a sort of sideways hug. "You're worried, aren't you?"
Hilda bristled, though she seemed to hold her temper. "How could I not be? Hilbert ran off to who knows where and Johanna won't even give me a hint where. I swear, when I find him…"
Bianca rubbed the other girl's shoulder. "I know. We all missed him. We're upset too."
It was hard to get mad at Bianca, and even harder to stay mad. Cheren knew this. He was still relieved when Hilda didn't blow up at her and instead exhaled slowly.
"There's nowhere I wouldn't go to bring him home. No river I won't cross, no mountain I won't climb." Her knuckles turned even whiter. "That's what friends are for. The Truth will guide me."
Cheren may have just been seeing things, but for a brief moment, it looked like the railing had turned red hot in Hilda's grip.
The Lights in the Sky Are Thunderbolts - X - Bite My Tongue
It was overcast in Jubilife that day. The wind had been picking up over the previous few days, and Hilbert had been expecting poor weather sooner or later. It wouldn't stop him, but it would widen the gap between him and the others, giving him a better chance to deal with any problems that they might stumble on in their travels.
Walking north towards the rolling hills, dense forests, and distant cliff faces, Hilbert looked away from the scenery and saw Professor Rowan in the street accompanied by individuals in business attire.
Walking closer to at least greet the older man, Hilbert thought there was something off about them. Their expressions were affable, but they seemed a little forced, and they were practically surrounding the professor.
He finally came into translation distance, because as strong as Rowan's spirit was, his intent was elsewhere and not focused on him.
The professor finally spoke, saying, "I must apologize, but my research is simply not for sale."
"There's really no time to waste, sir," one of the businesspeople said, slicking back their hair. "Committees won't put your research to good use like Galactic Industries. No one can. We're a one-of-a-kind group that'll last until the end of time."
"I'm sure it will," Rowan said, mustache shuffling. "However, all people should be afforded the same understanding of Pokémon as you or I."
"It's exactly as you say, sir. In the future our company will create, everyone will know everything there is to do with Pokémon." The man smiled. "Of course, we need your cooperation to ensure that this future comes about, and for that, we need your research on Pokémon evolution. The power of evolution can solve the energy crises of Sinnoh, don't you understand? Oreburgh will no longer depend on dwindling supplies of coal, Floaroma will no longer depend on the fickle wind, and Sunyshore will no longer depend on the easily blocked sun."
"I understand very well the power of evolution," Rowan said, clutching his briefcase somewhat tighter, "But it's because of that power that I cannot, in good conscience, entrust it to those looking to make a profit."
The apparent leader had a strained smile. "Very well, sir. We bid you farewell, for now, though I encourage you to reconsider." He presented a business card, which Rowan took, and led his group away.
Their intent shifted somewhat, which was why, when they shuffled past Hilbert, he caught one of them recommending another method.
Hilbert watched them for a moment as they walked away. With their backs to him, they hardly noticed.
"Ah, young Kuroiwa," Rowan called. "You are back in Jubilife already?"
Hilbert returned his attention to the older man and walked closer. "Yes sir, I was just about to head out to Floaroma."
Rowan looked upwards at the gathering clouds. "Are you sure? There's an abnormality in the weather blowing in from Mount Coronet. It's unlikely to be one of the Legendary birds, but Pokémon-created storms tend to be quite dangerous."
Hilbert nodded. "I'm sure. If other people get caught up in it, they might need someone to help out."
The professor's lips quirked upwards, though the motion was obscured by his mustache. "I see. Be sure to be careful for yourself as well. You are one of my lab trainers, young man," the professor said. "Remember that if you are ever in trouble."
Hilbert squirmed a little bit but tried not to show it. "Right. I will, sir."
"Hm," the man said, not pushing it further. "How is your progress with your Pokédex? I have been occupied at an academic conference recently and have not been back to the lab in quite some time."
They went over the Pokémon Hilbert had seen in passing as well as in battle, along with any spiritual oddities. Some Pokémon, even of the same species, could differ greatly in their spiritual makeup. He had seen a pair of Machop where one had an abnormal amount of Psychic TE in their system along with one that had a bit of Grass.
Rowan mentioned that some Pokémon species evolved differently if they knew or commonly used certain moves, so it was entirely possible that there were species that hadn't been discovered yet because they hadn't developed a need to use those moves, and by using those moves, boost their reserves of a certain type of TE.
It was about as engaging as Hilbert could throw; though Golett could throw him quite a lot further…
Hilbert dismissed the metaphor. He could handle the jargon the professor was throwing at him since he used a lot of it anyway, so it really wasn't too bad.
Before Professor Rowan could finish offering to buy him and the others lunch, since they were close enough nearby, a mass of gray and brown suddenly slammed into them and ran off.
Moments later, they both saw that Rowan's briefcase had been snatched.
Rowan immediately reached for his belt for a Pokéball, because as strong as the man was, he likely couldn't handle a dead sprint. Luckily, he was in the company of someone who could work much faster.
"Machamp," Hilbert said, pointing at the thief. "Could you get that briefcase, please?"
The winds shifted slightly.
Before the thief could get any further down the street, Rowan's briefcase suddenly stopped in mid-air, the handle upright as if being grabbed. The thief was wrapped around it, hanging off of it and gasping for breath as they fell to the ground.
The bag nonchalantly floated back over, as if being carried by an invisible businessman who then offered it to Rowan.
The professor took it, and though he didn't say anything, his expression said it all.
"Thank you," Hilbert said.
The air bent back into place before another breeze picked up.
"You had said you were acquainted with a Machamp, young Kuroiwa," Rowan mused. "I expected them to be more visible."
Hilbert shrugged. "It's what they prefer. Their physical form has a lot of strength and they're trying to be careful."
Machamp's spirit wavered and dipped in the air.
Hilbert waved them off. "Don't apologize to me." He turned back to Rowan. "They've got a sort of repentance they want to carry out, and I can't really blame 'em."
"I see," Rowan said slowly. "And you said your Pokédex registered them as a Machamp rather than an unknown species?"
"Yeah, that's right," Hilbert said, scratching his head. "Their TE is patterned pretty much the same as a Machop or a Machoke, but about half of it is Ghost instead of Fighting."
The professor hummed. "Fascinating. Perhaps I could examine them further in the future? It's unheard of for a species to have four consecutive and permanent evolutions, but I would like to verify."
He should have figured that Professor Rowan would see a Ghost-type not as a curse waiting to happen, but as another curiosity to be understood. To Hilbert, it was a relief, though he had a feeling most people would call it a foolish eccentricity.
The air shifted again.
"Hold on for a minute," Hilbert said to thin air, before refocusing on Rowan. "Did you want to have that guy arrested?"
Just then, Officer Jenny arrived in a tiny four-door, pulling up to the curb and slamming the door shut.
Rowan raised his off-hand, holding a mobile phone. It was the sort that had a full touch screen and everything, practically state of the art in 2009. Hilbert had only ever seen them in passing over the last few weeks, having been in a coma when they were invented and all.
Hilbert felt a little silly. The normal person's reaction was to call the police, of course it was. He'd only considered it an afterthought, since with everything he'd dealt with so far, it wasn't a thought he'd had at all.
"I'll… I'll just go, then," Hilbert said, bowing out. "Good to see you, sir."
"You as well. Stay safe, young man."
Even as it began to drizzle, Hilbert continued heading north. Barren dirt quickly turned into puddles which splattered as he sprinted through.
As something of a Ground-type himself, Hilbert didn't much like the rain. Golett wouldn't erode thanks to his supply of spirit energy, but on an instinctual level, he disliked the feeling of water running down his skin as if he were a sentient stone. Which, arguably, he sort of was, but that's besides the point.
Despite this, he couldn't let himself be held back by a little bit of rain. He had work to do.
His Pokétch, which had a radio app installed, suddenly began blaring. It had automatically switched over to the app and started playing some kind of emergency alert.
Which he couldn't understand, because the broadcast was in Sinjohan-Japanese while the device language was set to Unovan-Galarian. Luckily, the text began scrolling and he could read it.
Jubilife-Eterna Area, Flash Flood Warning, Routes 204, 205 Closed Due to Heavy Rainfall. Pokémon Rangers Dispatched, All Authorized Trainers Report for Relief Efforts.
Hilbert watched the text scroll for a minute even as the drizzling deepened, obscuring the screen though not damaging it. The things were built to withstand all kinds of weather, and the company boasted they could withstand even direct lightning strikes.
Which was very good for Hilbert all things considered, as he was nearly struck by lightning a few seconds later.
The thunder crack echoed across the route as people and Pokémon began running towards the city limits. Wood splintered as a tree was felled by lightning. Rain began pouring down on them as grass was obscured by a growing lake of mud.
It took a second for the roar of rocks falling to reach his ears. Through the rain, in the distance, he saw the hill that cut Route 204 in half begin to shift. Immediately, instinctually, he could tell it was a rockslide.
Hilbert felt for his hat and once again was annoyed that he'd lost it while fighting Machamp and left it in the caverns. He wasn't attached to it by any means, but it was better than the Tedd E. Ursa's cap, and he hadn't kept that either.
It didn't make sense for the hill to suddenly start collapsing, he thought as he started running. Mudslides were caused by excessive rainfall and loose earth, and the plateau had been a part of Sinnoh's geography for years. The dirt would somehow have to be disturbed and loosened to suddenly be shaken loose and turned into a flood. It wouldn't take some wild Pokémon having a scuffle, it would take…
It would take an earthquake. Multiple, even.
"Machamp," Hilbert said, with a warning tone like that of a parent about to scold their child.
Machamp was possibly twice as old as Hilbert, if not older, but their spirit still pulsed apologetically.
Even if the spirit had owned up to their mistakes, they both understood that actions could have long lasting effects that couldn't be foreseen. Was the plateau's foundation based on one of Sinnoh's branches, even dozens of miles away from the one Machamp had broken?
The distinction didn't really matter to him. He would help however he could.
A youngster tripped as Hilbert passed him, so he stopped to help the boy to his feet and help wipe the mud out of his eyes with a spare shirt from his bag. The youngster thanked him and started running again, the sound of panicked footsteps quickly fading.
A small squad of Pokémon rangers had already landed by the time he arrived at the foot of the cliff, though they were set up a hundred feet away. A pack of Staraptor huddled together as Bibarel began chewing through fallen logs. The sound of buzzing filled the air along with metal clanging as tarps and medical tents went up.
Hilbert slid to a stop next to a quartet of rangers as they finished setting up a tent. "I'm a lab trainer with Professor Rowan. How can I help?"
The leader looked up from a heavy radio set to squint at him through the rain. Their straw-like hair was already matted against their head. "The interior of Ravaged Path is cut-off and likely flooding. Trainers trapped inside with wild Pokémon, likely to go feral. If you have a Ground or Water-type, assist in clearing the way. Otherwise, join the search group." The ranger pointed at multiple flags erected where the mudslide seemed to cave inwards then a line of people standing arm to arm, poking around in the mud and already pulling people loose.
His heart pulsed as he nodded and ran over to the first flag. Golett created a haphazard golem which looked half-melted but would serve the purpose it needed to.
Hilbert dropped to the ground, shoving his palms into the soupy earth beneath him. Lights dimmed to him as he tried to create a layout of the cave system in his mind. He spread out his spirit energy through the earth, sending a pulse through it like a Zubat using echolocation. Where his energy didn't flow, he could feel where the tunnel was still filled with air. At the same time, he looked for spirit energy inside the cliff. Immediately, dozens of spirits popped up all along the cliff face, some human but most Pokémon. He saw energies pulse as Pokémon tried to fight their way out. Already, a Pokémon punched through a part of the cliff face, revealing a Rhydon with a trainer on their back.
Hilbert committed the map of spirit energy to memory and began focusing on the entrance in front of him.
The plane of mud split as if cut by wind, sloping downwards and outwards to Hilbert's sides. He threw his hands out, eyes flashing with blue lightning. Using globs of mud, he pulled fallen logs and patches of grass away and set them where he couldn't see buried spirits.
The rain seemed to only keep coming down heavier. Hilbert felt like he was drowning just by standing up. The sky had turned a deep gray, and only far, far behind him could he see any natural light.
He concentrated mud into blocks of stone and wrapped them around the trees he could find, placing them as pillars the further into the cave he got. The mud just seemed to keep coming, staining all of his clothes with a deep, loamy brown. He dug downwards to make space for the water that was flooding in, making sure it went to the sides and outwards instead of further into the cave.
He finally broke into the main system, where multiple people were huddled around a small Ponyta. The Fire-type was burning up as much TE as it could, nearly passed out on the floor and trying to provide warmth through the cold wetness of the season.
"Hey!" Hilbert shouted, drawing their attention. "Get outside before the mud floods back in here."
The Ponyta was recalled as the huddle of trainers ran past, all of them soaked and shivering. None stopped to even acknowledge him.
"Machamp, hold the tunnel open," Hilbert said.
The wind shifted, and it seemed like the raindrops were being punched out of the air. The roof rose slightly as four fists appeared beneath it and forced it upwards.
Hilbert climbed through the cave, directing people towards the entrances while sweeping mud to the side. The air was moist, but the majority of the cave was dry.
A Zubat suddenly dove at him, agitated and screeching.
Hilbert let a bit of Zekrom through and his eyes flashed with blue lightning.
Golett squared their fists.
Wisely, the Flying-type flew off further into the cave, where Hilbert could see no other human spirits.
He found the highest point in the cave after ushering a few more groups out and dug north where the supposed exit was. Mud had washed over signage and supports and blocked it.
Earth shifted and shot outwards, sprawling across what was probably a beautiful flower field, though it was hard to tell in the relentless downpour.
Seeing no other spirits trapped, he returned to the bottom of the cliff face. Mud was still sliding, but the tents were far enough away and the tunnel he made was so tall that no additional damage was done.
He reported back to the ranger he'd spoken to, who was supervising the rest as first aid kids were popped open and bandages unwound.
"All people are out," Hilbert said, Golett following up behind him. "Anything new?"
"This was the worst of it," the ranger said, not even glancing his way. "Are you certain?"
"My partner can see spirits," he lied, "There's only wild Pokémon left, and both entrances are cleared if they need it."
"Hm. Any dead?"
The question sent a chill down his spine. It wasn't a strange question to ask, which was why it unsettled him. People could always die in the first few minutes of a disaster, not everyone got the warning in time. No one, not even him, could always be fast enough to save everyone.
Hopefully, he wouldn't end up in a situation like that. He didn't know how he would react if he did.
"Not that I saw," Hilbert said. "Spirits leave a trail when they depart."
He suddenly realized that the ranger wasn't idly standing by, but watching a tent on the far side of the clearing, where a few sheets were laid out but not evenly, as if they covered piles of rocks, but no, they were too smooth, too similar, like…
Hilbert felt acid burn at his throat and forced it back down. He hadn't been. No one had been.
The ranger caught his gaze and seemingly read his mind. "We can't save everyone. Don't blame yourself, you were as fast as you could be. These things happen."
Hilbert gulped and tried to keep his expression even. "Right. Right, no, I know."
"Are you spiritual, kid?" the ranger asked.
"I know a few rites," Hilbert said, shaking until he noticed he was, at which point he had Golett still his bones. "I'll… do what I can."
The ranger looked like he wanted nothing more than a good cigarette at that moment. "Good man."
Hilbert forced himself to the other tent, ignoring the furrows of dirt that lead to it and the stench of bodily release that persisted even through the petrichor of the wetted grass.
The same prayer he had said for the Magnezone in Jubilife, he said for the few hikers before him. Hoping the earth would accept them, assuring that they had been valiant souls, worthy to walk in the place beyond, and pleading that the storm spirits that guarded earth, wind, and thunder to accept the dead peacefully.
He could never be sure if prayer offered the dead relief, but as the words quietly left his lips, his soul felt a little lighter.
Machamp shivering in rage was apparent to him, though likely no one else. It wasn't outwardly directed, as he could feel the spirit's energy cave inwards.
"Machamp."
The spirit stopped. Just as soon, they bowed their metaphorical head as they awaited punishment.
"We can't say that this is your fault. If it is, if it isn't, there's nothing more we can do." He placed a hand on the spirit's head, though it was only partially corporeal and invisible to all but himself. "You are not the same as you were before. And as long as we're together, something like this will never happen again. We'll make sure of it. Right?"
Tears spilled from the spirit's eyes as it nodded and faded back into the air around him.
Another ranger was giving him an odd look. His voice was almost certainly inaudible through the rain.
He ignored it and started stomping back towards the tunnel, with mud pouring into his shoes. He had done what he could. That would have to be enough.
Hilbert had a pretty good idea of what he was getting into before he left for Sinnoh. With the same dreams of death and destruction plaguing him for years, he had constructed a set of expectations in his mind and didn't think he would be too far off.
He didn't think he would end up baking, but there he was.
Wearing a dandelion yellow apron and stirring mix into a poffin maker, Hilbert looked out at the rest of Floaroma Town.
He had been trudging through the streets, looking for an inn or something similar, before the flower shop's owner called out for him to get out of the rain. Seeing as the sky was nearly jet black with storm clouds, he wasted no time in accepting.
Forsythia was the woman's name, and she had a strange resemblance to Dawn, though with greenish hair rather than slate gray.
He wasn't quite sure why that stuck out to him. Weird.
Anyway, she ran a flower shop as well as a poffin-making class. He couldn't accept the shelter without paying, but she wouldn't accept the full price for the class period either, so they settled for the material cost. Her daughter (Belle, as that was what Forsythia had yelled up the stairs) had come bounding down with towels in hand to help him dry off.
The second the little squirt saw the Gym Badge pinned to his jacket, gleaming with rain, her face lit up brighter than anything he'd ever seen before.
So, he supposed he could put up with her questions while he started on his first batch of poffins. The rain was still coming down like a Rock Tomb outside, so he was in no hurry to leave.
"That's the badge from Gym Leader Roark, isn't it?" Belle asked, jumping with her hands on the counter. She barely came up higher than the ledge, and not a lot higher than his waist.
"Yep," he said, changing the direction of his stirring. "Got it… two weeks ago? Yeah."
"Wow! Are you a new trainer?"
Hilbert smiled, still the only one in on the same joke as always. "Something like that."
"What kind of Pokémon do you use?" she asked. "I like Drifloon! They're always nice to me and Daddy when he's working at the… the…"
"Windmills?" Hilbert guessed, seeing as they had been everywhere the eye could see when he'd arrived. The low groan from them was quiet enough, but perhaps that was because of the rain.
"Yeah! Daddy is in charge of the windmills, and the Drifloon have always been nice to the people that work on the windmills!"
"Always?" Hilbert asked, lips quirking upwards.
"Duh. I just said that," she said, her face morphing into a pout.
He caught Forsythia mouthing, "Is she bothering you?" across the room and shook his head with a smile.
"Right, I'm sorry," he said, forcing an overly apologetic tone. "Can you tell me how you know?"
"Daddy says that his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather trained a Drifblim, so they've always been looking out for us," Belle explained, beaming at her family history. "You should catch one. Every good trainer needs a Drifloon! But Daddy's is top percentage, understand? Like, his Drifloon is in the top percentage of all Drifloon. Except mine!"
"You're training Pokémon at your age?" Hilbert asked, humoring her.
Her face fell. "No… but I'm gonna!" she said, the wide smile returning. "When I catch a Drifloon, they're going to be the strongest Drifloon in the world!"
"Are they Ghost-type?" Hilbert asked offhandedly, scraping poffin mix off the sides of the bowl so it wouldn't burn.
"Uh…" Belle paused, trying to focus and putting a finger to her lips. "Um…"
"They are," Forsythia said helpfully.
"Right! I knew that!" she exclaimed. "They're Ghost and Flying-type, isn't that cool?"
"For sure," Hilbert said. "I like Ghost-types. I mean, I'm a Ground-type specialist but most of my team is Ghost-types."
The girl made an 'eep' sound, but to her credit, didn't run away. "That's scary! Are they mean? Drifloon's not like most Ghost-types, they're really nice."
"That," Hilbert said, making a waving motion with his spoon, "Is a very rude generalization."
The girl frowned.
"But it's fine. Would you like to meet Shuppet?"
"What's a Shuppet?"
Hilbert wanted to ask how old the obvious kindergartner was, just to be a smartass, but he was suddenly struck by an odd feeling in his chest.
He brought out a Pokéball and aimed it at a free table. "Alright, you guys, play nice."
Four plushies appeared in a blast of white light. They were initially clumped together, but soon burst into motion.
"Zealy, don't run off. Teri, don't burn anything. Pouty, behave. Tedd… you're fine."
The Poochyena plush stopped walking towards the knife rack and sulked.
Belle immediately ran up to the table and started incomprehensibly gushing about how cute they all were.
Having successfully distracted the gremlin, Hilbert realized that the feeling in his chest wasn't Golett messing with him. It was the feeling of having family, the overly warm feeling that seeped through him and rushed up to his tear ducts.
He also realized, with a cut off yelp of panic, that his poffins were burning, and he quickly returned to his craft.
"It's good for a first attempt," Forsythia assured him. "Really."
"My mom made 'em real good," Hilbert said quietly, lowering his head as if it would shade his eyes. He was sitting on a stool at his workstation. "Never made a bad batch. Never has, never will."
On Hilbert's countertop was a tray which contained a single, roll-like block of dough. It was hard to describe it further without comparing it to flint or charcoal. Or a pile of gravel. Or a rock. Or anything, really, the point is that they were terrible and Hilbert thought he should feel bad about it.
"People have… different talents," she said. "Maybe there's a Pokémon somewhere that'll enjoy it."
"None of my Pokémon have to eat," Hilbert said with a sulk. "No taste buds. I dunno what I was thinking."
"Hey, chin up!" she declared, putting her hands on her hips much like his mother was prone to do. "You can try again, I don't mind!"
"No, I couldn't. It's getting late," Hilbert said, shifting slightly. "Could you point me to an inn?"
It was still raining outside and it showed no sign of stopping. If anything, it had only gotten heavier.
"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Forsythia offered. "Belle is having a great time with your Pokémon, you know."
Hilbert had never had a little sister or anything close to one, so he put his immediate mental refusal to making the little girl upset down to instinct.
Before he could make his thoughts clear, the front door opened, letting a person in as well as the roar of the rain.
This was Mr. Oliver Makino, he guessed, considering the brunet hair he shared with his daughter and something about his bone structure. Family resemblances were things he could sometimes grasp, but never definitively.
"I'm home." The man shook off his coat, walked through the main flower shop, then took his shoes off just outside the kitchen entrance. "Long day at the Windworks, those Galactic Industries fellows trying to convince me to sell." He looked at Hilbert. Then his wife. Then back at Hilbert.
"I see we have guests," he said, weariness clear on his face.
Hilbert quickly got to his feet and went to shake the man's hand. "Hilbert Kuroiwa, sir. I'm a trainer with Professor Rowan."
That seemed to satisfy the man. He shook Hilbert's hand and looked at him a little closer, making the few gray hairs he had stand out all the more.
"Do I know you, son? You've got a look about you."
"I don't think so, sir," Hilbert said. "Sorry."
"Hilbert will be joining us for dinner," Forsythia said.
Oliver looked out the window at the pouring rain and then back at his wife. "I see," he said evenly.
Without another word, Hilbert was whisked upstairs, which turned out to be where the Makino family actually lived. He'd taken his shoes off long before, since dragging water through the house would be rude and it was customary in Sinnoh.
The table was already piled high with food; Forsythia had gone upstairs a few times while he was baking. It wasn't anything heavy, just a rice cooker, pan-cooked fish, and a smattering of vegetables.
It was some of the best food he'd tasted in weeks. Trainer meals, continental breakfasts, and fast food could keep you alive, but only with a home-cooked meal could you live.
"Kuroiwa, I remember that name," Oliver said, shoving steaming hot food into his mouth. Considering the near-freezing temperatures outside, Hilbert couldn't blame him. "That was that big shot contest star back in the day."
"That's my mother," Hilbert admitted.
"Huh." Oliver looked him up and down. "How old are you, son?"
"Eighteen."
"Huh. Hah." Oliver laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "You're one of those "shipping out tomorrow, let's make it count," babies, ain't ya?"
Hilbert felt a little green. He'd been born after the Conflict began, but his father hadn't been drafted until he was pre-adolescent. Still, he didn't want to think about the details of his conception.
"Dear," Forsythia warned. "Not at the table."
"Ah, well, okay," Oliver said, suddenly looking quite sheepish. "Truth is, I knew a guy that never shut up about Johanna Kuroiwa. Called her his "black star" and everything."
Was that where he'd gotten the nickname? No, more importantly.
"You… knew my dad?"
"Knew of him," the man clarified. "Everyone in the company did. The man never shut up about how hot his wife was and how when he got home, he was going to-"
"Dear."
Belle pouted. "I want to hear the story."
"No, you don't," Hilbert said at the same time as the girl's mother. "So…" it was a touchy subject for a lot of people. "You fought in the Conflict, then?"
The man clenched his chopsticks a little tighter, clicking them together. "I did. My whole family's been good with aeronautics going back generations. They got me and my pops from the Windworks and put us in tech." He stared into his bowl. "Saw a lot of things I wish I hadn't."
"Dear," Forsythia said softly.
"We called it Bad Company," the man continued. "Not the official name, but it was the one that stuck. It was where all the weird trainers got sent, since weird trainers could pull out some crazy sh- crazy stunts at the drop of a hat." His brow furrowed, and the way the light glinted, his gray hairs were emphasized. "It was the Storming of Coumarine."
Hilbert felt a chill go down his spine.
The Storming of Coumarine was one of the worst battles in the Conflict. Hoennian forces, having drafted together an all-star regiment from across regions in order to invade Kalos. The goal was to take the Tower of Mastery in order to prevent the Kalosian government from staking a claim on Mega Evolution as a concept. They sought to expose the secrets to the world so that no one region had such absolute power over the other.
A single Mega Evolution could change the course of a battle, and he'd seen two in person- He was lucky he didn't have to see dozens of people be splattered across the pavement.
The Tower of Mastery, however, was inaccessible by sea due to blockades and around-the-clock anti-air capable Pokémon, which were naturally Mega Evolved. The only option was a march.
They never got that far. The staging ground for the battle was a place known to Kalosians as the Sea Spirit's Den. Hoennian forces had successfully breached the walls of Coumarine and taken it under control. Routed Kalosian forces attacked the staging ground, desperate, aggressive, and allegedly in possession of three shards of Shamoutite, named for the mineral which was associated with the Legendary Birds in legends around the world, though most greatly found in the Shamouti archipelago.
The only photo that existed of the battle was a picture of a hurricane, with only a glimpse of the winged titan flying within its eye.
Oliver explained all of this, though toned down and in a more simplistic manner, so that his daughter wouldn't be frightened. "I was shipped out before the operation began. Something about needing aircraft redesigns back at home. Bad Company, most of the other crew I worked with, all of the other companies." The man's chopsticks strained and splintered. "Gone. And I wasn't even there to see them off."
Forsythia stood up and walked around the table, wrapping him in a hug. She didn't say anything, only holding him for a few minutes.
Hilbert stared at his lap, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He should have shut up. He shouldn't have asked.
The man eventually let out a shuddering breath and smiled. "Ah, but you don't want to hear about any of that. You said you're a trainer, son?"
They settled into a much smoother conservation than before, silently agreeing to move on. Belle insisted that her father take her with him to work, to which he replied that he takes her every other day, to which she responded with a pout until he said yes.
The warm feeling had returned to Hilbert's chest again, replacing the cold ache that had snuck up on him. He kept it together, but the sense of rightness was intense.
Maybe… maybe if things had been different, this would have been his family. A father who had lived, a mother who had loved, a child who had so much to see in the world.
He tried not to feel bitter about what he had missed out on. He really did. That was the way to rejecting the world and everything it had to offer. He had to take the bad with the good because that was the only way to live in the real world, instead of a cynical downward spiral or a self-indulgent fantasy. But still, deep down, he was certain that there was a hole in his heart that Golett could never fill.
He wasn't sure if anything could.
AN:
Forsythia is a name taken from the anime. I say name, because I haven't watched it and won't deign to write the character accurately. Belle is a reference to a common name of the Forsythia flower, which is golden bell. Makino is the surname of the fellow who discovered the Japanese variant of the Forsythia flower, which I thought would make it somewhat romantic. Finally, Oliver is taken from Forsythia being a genus of the olive family Oleaceae. Thought it would be a cool reference.