The front porch seemed cleaner than usual. She often made an effort to help keep the outside of the house together, since there was a long time where the main inhabitant was more of a hermit than most Dwebble. Someone else might have cleaned it, though who? She would know if it was Cheren or Bianca, since it was usually her that dragged them along to help.
Hilda reached up to knock on the door, before immediately crossing her arms. It was a habit formed from waiting over and over again.
The door opened faster than it ever had before.
Johanna leaned around the door. She seemed lighter, standing taller than she often did, though from the way her fingers drummed, she seemed nervous about something. The bags under her eyes indicated a lack of or too much sleep.
All of this, Hilda processed before Johanna could say, "Hilda? Good morning. How are you? Can I get you anything to eat, maybe?"
She hadn't come over recently. The worst of the hermitism had been immediately after the accident, and the last relapse was months previously.
Hilda held off an impatient glare. "Where is he?"
The Lights in the Sky Are Thunderbolts - III - Life of Leaving Home
Upon seeing Golett begin walking around the room, Lucas picked up one of the Pokédexes that had been set out by Professor Rowan and began rapidly typing on its keypad. His pace only accelerated as Hilbert began explaining.
"Golett are pretty rare around here, which is odd," Hilbert said. "I mean, you guys came up with giant robot shows before anyone else. The species is pretty much exclusive to the younger regions. Golett ordinarily evolve into a larger form called Golurk, though I'm not sure we have that option."
"You said it's a Ghost and Ground-type?" Lucas said, his fingers still flying across his Pokédex. "...about a meter tall, and given soil composition, likely around one hundred and twenty kilograms if solid, maybe ninety if hollow…"
Professor Rowan took out a sheet of stickers from his pocket, peeled one away, and placed it on the boy's Pokédex. "Don't Panic!" the text read, though the boy didn't seem to notice.
"Words of caution are the most effective tool when concerning new trainers," the Professor said in low tones to Dawn.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, apparently still salty about the possibility of having to escort this obliquely ridiculous group of neanderthals.
"They were supposedly sculpted from clay thousands of years ago to be servants, but Golett was born in a lab," Hilbert said. "I can't give you super detailed descriptions of their species history because, you know, I was in a coma and they don't know either."
"No, no, that's fine," Lucas said, waving him off while still typing. "If they were native to Sinnoh I'd have more questions, but that'll be fine for now."
"Nerd," Barry said, though his tone had little bite for it. "Anyway, Professor, can we have a battle?"
Lucas actually looked up from his Pokédex .
The Professor, apparently not quite acclimated to Barry's personality, had to take a moment to pivot to the new topic. "I… don't suppose there's anything wrong with the idea. But you need to pick your Pokémon first."
"Alright!" Barry cheered, before running over to the machine and grabbing Piplup's Pokéball. "They're not a real badass yet, but we'll get to it eventually! Come on, Piplup!"
Hilbert considered that Barry had accurately assessed both Golett's and Chimchar's weaknesses, as well as Dawn's apparent disinterest in battling, and had picked the Pokémon with the greatest advantage within a few seconds while maintaining the image of an idiot.
Definitely someone to look out for, he thought.
The Water-type appeared in a blast of light. They looked around before they figured out who their new trainer was and nodded at Barry.
Everyone wisely took a step back. Rowan appeared to be praying in gratitude for his lab being waterproofed.
Barry swung around to point at Golett, and barked, "Now, Piplup, use-!"
"Wait, time out," Hilbert said, holding his hands in the shape of the letter 'T'.'
Barry tripped over, partially through his dramatic declaration of war, and fell flat on his ass. "What? You can't call a time-out before the battle even begins!"
"Barry, I know you're talented, but me and Golett have been training for years," Hilbert explained. "This battle isn't going to be a learning experience. It'll be like punching a won't even be funny how hard I'll wipe the floor with you."
"Eh? What was that?" Barry said, hunching over and scowling dramatically. "Okay, now I gotta take you down! You're a wall? Then I'll just have to knock you down!" He raised his fist to the sky and pointed. "Just who the hell do you think I am!?"
His heart pulsed.
Hilbert allowed himself a small smirk. Golett's stances widened, raising its arms as if they were gloves of stone. Stubby fingers began to give way to drills being formed from their hands.
"Alright, if you say so…"
A few minutes later…
"No hard feelings?" Hilbert said, sweeping up the bits of chipped stone that littered the floor.
Barry slumped over and sighed. "Yeah, it's all good. I should have expected that."
It was lucky that Hilbert had left the window open, else Piplup would need to be treated for more than scratches accrued from tree branches as they flew by.
They were a flightless bird, though, so keep in mind that the flying was entirely involuntary.
Barry brushed off another layer of dirt and leaves from Piplup's feathers. "Your partner's a monster. I've never seen a Pokémon that can do something like that."
Golett silently reattached their arm, which had been instrumental in Piplup's unplanned flight to the moon. It would have been odd to leave the limb laying on the ground outside, even if they didn't need it. They promptly hopped out of the window and disappeared.
"We try," Hilbert said with a smile. He felt, in an incredibly small amount, vindicated in that his training hadn't been a waste of time with nothing to show for it.
Lucas was, of course, typing furiously into his Pokédex until Golett left. He did so while standing on a chair, so that Hilbert could wipe up all of the residue from Piplup's Bubble attacks beneath the table.
Dawn walked back into the room, sniffling at the gratuitous messiness. Really, she thought, would it have been too much work to find somewhere more appropriate to battle?
"Hey, so my mother knows all of your mothers, somehow, so you're all invited to dinner at my house," she said. "It's a meal to celebrate the start of… our journey."
"Free dinner?" Barry said, hopping onto his feet and making Piplup squawk.
Lucas shook his head. "There's no such thing as a free dinner, Barry."
"Let me finish up here," Hilbert said, swishing the mop around, "I don't like doing things by halves."
Dinner couldn't be called a subdued affair, but with as many adults as teenagers, there was only so much rowdiness that could be contained. There were the same questions as earlier, with Barry's mother acting much the same as Dawn's had earlier, with noticeably less restraint.
She got to the story about Palmer and Hilbert's father, since the two looked rather similar, and explained that when they were on their journey, they'd gotten drunk and she started making out with the wrong one.
"Blech," said the entire world, though Barry was certainly the loudest.
That story led to another, then another, and then Dawn's mother was telling a story about his mother in particular.
"Johanna was Top Coordinator for five or so years, yes, she was quite talented before she stepped back and had Hilbert," Mrs. Horaki said, making a shooing motion with one hand and holding a wine glass with the other.
"She was?" Hilbert asked.
"She was?" Dawn exclaimed. "You mean, Johanna the Arc? The self-made idol?"
Mrs. Horaki laughed, "Ah, such a silly nickname. She hated it, but Fantina in Hearthome is highly respected in the circuits, so Johanna couldn't tell her that to her face."
Hilbert recalled something about Kalosian mythology, but dismissed it. He could be as grandiose as the next guy, but it was a means to an end for him.
"I'm not really interested in competing in anything," Hilbert said. "I had dreams about coming home, so I did."
"Ooh, did you see any cute girls in them?" Mrs. Horaki asked. "Did you see my beautiful darling daughter Dawn?"
"Ew!" Dawn said.
Hilbert shook his head, completely throwing off the teasing. He recognized it made him look oblivious rather than mature.
That was probably why he did it, on second thought.
"I'm just wandering. Righting wrongs that I see. Helping people. I'll probably put in an application for the Ranger Corps eventually."
That wasn't necessarily true; he didn't intend on applying during his journey, but it sounded better than just aimlessly traveling like some did.
The adults shared a worried look but let the topic lie.
Hilbert had to suppress his annoyance again. He knew no one would take him seriously when he set out, he knew that. He was an idiot, but he wasn't some stupid kid. He knew what he was doing, because sure, one coincidence could be dismissed, but there had been too many in his case. He couldn't ignore it, treat it like a bad dream.
He had a purpose. He wasn't sure exactly what that was, not quite yet, but he saw his dreams every time he closed his eyes.
He saw a behemoth disguised as a mountain that walked along the Earth's mantle, a leviathan guarding an underground lake that was as vast as Castelia City, and a flame pinned beneath the weight of the world that refused to go out. He saw demons and angels pass through the dreams of man and monster. He saw symbols burned in the sky, circles and spokes that held every power known by the universe. He watched space bend as time flowed backwards and obliterated itself with antimatter and gravity. He saw the fires of truth, the freezing cold of limitation, the lightning that sparked his ideals. He had seen a glimpse, a speck of a speck of that which was Everything. He had taken a misstep on the Pathway to Forever.
There had been a night when the boy dreamed.
His heart pulsed.
He was back in reality. He felt the chattering of everyone around him, their spirits joyfully reaching out and connecting with each other. This was... his life. It wasn't a moment to be disregarded because he had something larger to attend to. They were both necessary, and he knew that. It was just that sometimes, he needed to be reminded.
"Thanks, Golett," he mouthed silently, idly rubbing his chest.
Hilbert went to go train after dinner. More accurately, he went to stay in shape and make sure his techniques worked properly in the real world.
He stood on a beach on the southern edge of Sandgem Town. It was dark out, but there was so little light pollution that a hundred stars shined down on him and gave him all the light he needed. The sand clumped together and seemed perpetually damp. Leaves were half-buried and crunched under his feet. It was far enough off the main path that noticeable damage was unlikely.
"Army of One," he said. "Maintain the natural density."
The sand swirled together and shaped upwards. It maintained its hue and each individual grain remained visible. Golett's engravings appeared, though they were difficult to distinguish from the rest of its body. It seemed as if they were wearing desert camouflage.
Hilbert nodded and unzipped his jacket. If they weren't able to create a full body for Goltett out of whatever materials were nearby, they could end up in a tight spot in the future. It was good to verify.
While Golett put themselves through the paces, Hilbert willed more sand to flow towards him. Minerals melted and melded into gauntlets as well as a chestplate that would protect him from only the weakest attacks.
This was how they had managed their training spars for years within the dream. He was lucky that his body shared muscle memory with his spirit.
Hilbert thumped his chest, allowing his heart to burst outwards with a crack and a flash of lightning. It looked like a clump of crystals had begun growing through his breastbone.
Golett turned, raising its arms.
"First blood?" Hilbert asked, bracing himself.
Golett had been standing in front of him.
Then he wasn't.
Like a lightning bolt in reverse, the ground he was standing on had exploded while he shot towards Hilbert.
Hilbert threw himself to the side, touching down with one hand before kicking back up into a crouch.
A Stone Edge quickly formed out of the sand; that too exploded in a cloud of glassy powder as the Ground-type rebounded.
Hilbert knew better than to try and catch them in mid-air, so he weaved to the side and drove a spike of glass into the Ground-type.
Golett's body took on a gouge, though the ghostly energy inside did not bleed out.
More importantly, Golett stuck to his fist, weighing it down.
Hilbert leapt as he dissipated his right bracer, just as Golett dove for his legs. He flipped head over heels, before sliding and turning back around.
Golett's body was nowhere to be found, though he saw a pile of sand still in motion.
He jumped directly upwards as Golett charged towards him from behind in their second body, another which was made of sand.
His other bracer melted, the minerals sliding along his body until reforming beneath his shoes.
Though he couldn't become incorporeal, he could minorly affect his surroundings like ghosts could by pushing his spirit energy towards them.
He used this technique to spin in mid-air and deliver a Rider kick straight to Golett's fake head.
A glass drill pierced the sand, driving straight through it with all his weight. The pale light within Golett quickly fade as they became a pile of sand once again.
Hilbert breathed heavily, placing his hands on his knees.
"Still think that's cheating," Hilbert said, accusing his partner. "Making a whole new body. Not fair. We can't do that in casual battles."
Golett formed a third body in front of him to shrug.
Hilbert sighed. "Whatever. I won, though. I think we should test that other move, now. It might come in handy later."
Golett nodded and their spiritual energy receded. Sand swept towards their body and condensed, hardening it into rock as it consolidated around their body. Scraps of metal that had been long lost beneath the waves were broken apart and incorporated as armor, making them look almost like a shogun.
Hilbert knelt down in front of the body and willed a bit of metal to surround his finger. It quickly became as sharp as a spear, and would stay that way as long as he kept it together.
Slowly, taking great care to pour his spiritual energy into each stroke, he carved four symbols that resembled letters into the stone figure's forehead. They were simplifications of the unsimplifiable. Knowledge that could not be known. Imitators would never be able to copy them, for their depth was not in the word that was spelled, but the intent behind it.
Hilbert finished the last stroke and placed his finger at the center of the lightless spiral on the golem's chest.
"Singularity."
The house was two stories tall. It had a perfectly sloped roof, once upon a time. The walls were grimy, covered in vinyl that had warped and popped over the years. Windows hung loosely from their sills, teetering precariously in even the quiet evening breeze. Tiny bits of glass dusted the ground below them. The mailbox was at a slight angle,with the name graffitied over and washed away. The walkway was covered in uneven weeds, and the dirt beneath was invisible without sunlight.
Hilbert pushed open his front door and sent his spirit flooding through the house. The kitchen, the dining room, the remains of the shattered television, the bedroom behind the stairs, the mold-covered bathroom, and his room in the attic.
"I'm home," he said quietly to the empty house.
Spirit energy had lingered in the house, long after it had been abandoned. He caught a faint whiff of alcohol staining the floors. The interior seemed to have been swept often, though only to keep the floors clear of glass.
Twinleaf wasn't too out of the way, and his house was relatively isolated. It was no surprise that trainer school students from out of town figured it was a good place to party.
He walked by the bathroom. The pungent stench of vomit encouraged him to keep walking.
Hilbert wanted to be angry about how his childhood home had been treated.
But that was life. Spirits moved on and new spirits took their place. Whatever God there was, if there was one, that process was their domain.
"Dad," he said, pushing the memories of the gruff, fair-haired man to the front of his mind, "Are you here?"
The cool Sinnohan breeze brushed up against him, swinging a window wide.
He heard a thump. A weak spiritual energy crashed against him like a wave in the ocean. HIs head whipped towards the kitchen.
Another thump. A cabinet with rusted handles bulged outwards.
He had Golett begin forming outside just in case. The spirit felt… lonely. Like it had been abandoned for a long, long time.
The door came off of its hinges the moment he touched it. The interior was covered in dust but splattered with pungent stains.
Between nearly-empty bottles, overturned solo cups, and shards of cracked ceramics, there was a tea cup that had been filled with vodka.
The liquid swirled and darkened into a deep purple haze. An arm that was both liquid and solid receded back into the cup, becoming a part of the broken hand.
"Tea?" it burbled out, as though the liquid were speaking. The design in the pale green tea cup shifted, looking almost like a face.
Hilbert choked out a laugh. "Old bastard," he said, holding back tears. He picked up the Sinistea with one hand while wiping off the counter with the other.
It wasn't his father's spirit. He had died too far away, but a part of him had lingered before he had left. Spirit energy always did. That lingering energy was channeled into something else, no longer a house spirit but one of consumption.
Still, it was the last thing he had of home. He had given up nearly everything else.
"Why don't you come with me?" he said, stepping back and crossing his arms.
The Sinistea levitated and looked curiously at him.
His heart pulsed.
He had drunken out of that cup before, before his mother told him it was a valuable dish, never to be used casually. Very valuable, she had said, chiding him while his father looked amused at the other end of the table.
"This was my home, too, once," Hilbert said.
The Ghost-type nodded, looking around at the ruined house.
"It's kind of a mess," he said with a light laugh, "But don't you want to defend it?"
The Sinistea closed its patterned eyes for a moment in thought, before opening them and nodding again.
Hilbert withdrew one of the Pokéballs that Rowan had given him. "Then I'll choose you," he said.
Sinistea floated over, tapped themselves against the plain Pokéball, and disappeared in a flash of red light.
The Pokéball didn't shake once as it plinked and shrunk back to normal size.
Hilbert tossed the ball in the air, juggling it with one hand. Golett dissipated, and his heart radiated understanding.
"I'll be back," he said quietly to the empty house. Some spirits didn't want to be seen, and concealed their energy the best they could. That was their choice.
He switched the ball with his Pokédex as he stepped back out under the stars, and began recording a new entry as he trekked back towards Sandgem Town.
Hopefully, the adults were still up and would let him back into the house. If not…
Eh, he could manage with a bed of sand.