Short legs. Short, stumpy legs. That was all that was on the fleeing Marshadow's mind as he tried to run away from the human as fast as possible. The uncut, forest grass whipped around his knees and made some effort to slow him down, even as he tried to balance on unfamiliar limbs. He was certain that, if he had gotten used to the legs, Marshadow would have outrun this trainer a long time ago. But damn was she persistent.
He didn't want to be captured, he wanted to figure out what was going on, which he couldn't do when stuck inside some stupid trainer's Pokéball. Not only that, be they were chasing him down with such eagerness- what if they were evil?
He didn't know where the thought was coming from and it wasn't a clear picture, but he imagined evil trainers locking up Pokémon and experimenting on them, forcing them to perform feats against nature itself. What if he was a sort of Pokémon that they would want to try those sorts of experiments on? He couldn't take the risk. He just wanted to be alone while he unjumbled his mind. Why was that such a difficult thing to ask for?
Trainer? Pokéball? Pokémon?
Again, Marshadow couldn't tell why the hell he knew what those even were, just like everything else with his own body, but at this point, he couldn't care less.
All he had known since waking up was confusion and fear. Now he could add adrenaline to the list. Unfortunately, it only boosted the other two sensations. He kept feeling his foot slip into shadows, or an arm get caught in the shade. He didn't know how to control the pull of the darkness and he didn't want to risk jumping into a shadow to hide and only trap himself- making it easier to be caught. He had to keep running, at least until this trainer gave up the chase. She sounded like she was far from willing to give up, and so he would have to keep on running, too.
He hoped he was even running the right way. Not in terms of direction, he had no clue where he was going, but in terms of form. He could feel that both of his legs were in pain from how quickly his tiny stride was having to be pushed. Did creatures like him, beings made of shadows, get stitches from running? Were his legs only hurting because they were moving in an unnatural way until he could learn to run properly? He'd have to figure it all out later, when he wasn't being chased down by someone that wanted to enslave him.
He felt like he was making good ground and, with the adrenaline pumping, his senses could tell that the trainer was slowly pulling behind. She hadn't given up yet, but he was starting to increase the distance between the both of them.
Then the sun hit his eyes in full.
While focusing on where the trainer was, he had allowed his mind to wander, and had run out into a clearing in the forest. The sky was clear and the sun was unobstructed by the trees, leaving Marshadow entirely exposed. In shock from the sudden increase in light, Marshadow tripped and fell, coming to a stop out in the open.
Towering in front of him, as if left lost and forgotten in the middle of this dense forest, was a building. It was derelict and had aged enough to have noticeable patches of rotting wood beneath flaking, faded paint. It looked like it might have been a pleasant chateau, many years ago, and the open entrance into the ground floor of the building seemed to call to Marshadow. He could see the deep, entrancing shadows from just beyond the doorway. He wondered how long it had been since sunlight had been allowed into that chateau. He could hear the footsteps of the trainer catching up to where he was. He needed to make a decision. If he tried to turn back to the tree line for the shadows they held, he would run into the trainer; if he ran for the shadows in the chateau… he had no idea what would happen next.
He sprinted towards the entrance just as the trainer was making their way into the sunlight.
"Stop!" She called out as he rushed into the safe and comforting embrace of the shadows. He didn't know who she was and didn't wait to listen to what she had to say. It occurred to him that he should have been scared of this creepy old building, but the thought was brushed off just as quickly. Why would he be scared of ghosts or the dark? He was the dark.
A floorboard creaked. The trainer had given chase once more.
Marshadow sank further into the shadows of the entrance hall. He knew that in a place as dark as this building, he would never be found unless he wanted to be. He watched the trainer and waited for her to give up her hunt.
He could see that she was scared. She was shaking as she took each subsequent step further into the dark. She had dark brown, almost black hair that was tied into a short braid, hanging just long enough to reach past her shoulders. She had a cap on, likely to keep the sun out of her eyes on days like today. Shorts, a short-sleeved shirt, and a backpack finished off the ensemble as she clutched at the straps and walked further in.
The chateau was far less inviting inside, which was saying something as the outside made it a clear wonder as to how the building was still standing. Marshadow wouldn't have been surprised if people or Pokémon had been killed in this building. Standing isolated and aged, in the middle of nowhere, it was the perfect place to do such a thing. The prospect only added to the sinister feeling in the air. Broken furniture, half covered in molding sheets lay scattered across the rooms. Floorboards had holes in where other adventurous people must have stepped through the more rotten parts and quickly fled the area.
Marshadow could feel just how scared this trainer was as she explored the ruined building. He wondered why she continued, but he wasn't in a position to ask, only to watch. Why had he so readily accepted that he could feel her emotions? That wasn't a normal thing for him to do, was it? It was almost like an additional sense, as natural as looking at the colors of a flower petal, or smelling that same flower. He just… felt how the trainer was feeling. Terrified, but with an odd dash of hopefulness and- a flash of fury- no. The intense rage felt wrong, foreign to her own feelings. She was the scared one, the hopeful one. There was someone else here. Something else that was filled with anger.
"Hey, buddy?" The trainer called out blindly into the darkness, "I know you're in here and I just want to talk. I- I don't want to capture you if that's why you ran."
Marshadow stayed silent, fishing the area for whatever was creating the additional feelings.
"I've never seen a Pokémon like you before," she continued, "I'm curious, that's all. Won't you mind coming out and saying hi?"
Marshadow felt the rage increase, multiplying. There wasn't just one other being with them, but many.
"Oh," the trainer said, her voice raising in what sounded like a surprised happiness, "thank you. You can trust me."
Marshadow had no idea what she was talking about as there was no chance she could be speaking to him. He was so well hidden she wouldn't be able to see him even if she were looking directly at him. Then he saw the overturned chair, nearest the trainer, shift. The trainer was also looking down at the chair, smiling.
She must think that's me, Marshadow thought, but what's causing it instead?
Curious, with fear building once more, Marshadow looked on as the trainer reached down to feel the air nearest to where the chair had been interfered with. She motioned as if she was trying to pat something, but was just touching the air. Then Marshadow saw something begin to form out of nothing, floating above her downturned head. She had yet to spot it.
With a flickering purple haze spiraling out of the shadows like water from a blocked drain, a deep black floating orb cracked open from within the aura, showing sharp teeth and large, pale eyes. As if they were bubbles rising out of a drink, three more of these huge grimacing orbs appeared out of nowhere around the trainer, and yet she didn't spot them. Not yet. Each one had a diameter that was over half of her entire height and dwarfed Marshadow entirely.
The trainer retracted her hand back towards her torso, looking at it thoughtfully. Marshadow could feel her disappointment, her sinking sense of failure. The room felt slightly colder, not by a lot, but just enough to be noticeable. The trainer stood up straight, her own confusion setting in at the change in temperature. Her head passed right through one of the floating orbs and she took a moment to realize she was staring face to face with something.
"A Ghastly," she muttered to herself, shock setting in. Marshadow could feel her fear, a sharp stabbing pain that he knew well. "No. More-"
The four floating ghost Pokémon each opened their mouths wide and rushed in to begin biting at the petrified trainer. They worked in tandem, whizzing around the trainer and taking turns licking and biting her.
Marshadow wasn't sure what to do. It was in his nature to hide, to stay out of conflict. He only wanted to be left alone and now this was happening right before his eyes. He could just let it happen, he would stay safe and he could forget any of this had gone on. But that didn't feel right. He couldn't just watch as the trainer fell victim to Pokémon that he had inadvertently led her to.
Under the battering she was taking from the four Ghastly, the trainer fell to her knees, trying to use her backpack to keep them away from her head and neck area, but it was to no avail. Marshadow looked on, fear keeping him from action, as the trainer began to suffer cuts and lacerations from the attacks, teeth sinking in and drawing blood as it pulsed out of the deeper bitemarks. Marshadow then had something else catch his eye. Even as the trainer was suffering wound after wound from the ghosts, there was something else lurking within the room, something larger.
Dragging its two sharply clawed hands along the ground, making no noise as they passed slightly through the floorboards, was a Haunter. Larger than the Ghastly and far more menacing. It's very form was as jagged as the teeth within its grin and it, too, had its eyes on the trainer.
Marshadow wanted to act, wanted to call out and warn her of its approach, but he just stood there. Hidden. Scared.
As the Haunter approached, the Ghastly gradually noticed, one by one, and floated back- away from the bleeding trainer. She moved the backpack from above her head to look around at what had caused them to stop. Marshadow could see the tracks of her tears running down her dirt and dust covered face. He could feel her fear, as if it was beating himself over the head with the same pain she had been receiving from the Ghastly. There was a spike of hope at the thought that it was over and she might be able to escape. Then her eyes locked onto the Haunter, emerging from the shadows and grinning sadistically. The fear increased even more than before, it began to deafen Marshadow as the Haunter moved up close to the kneeling trainer, floating slightly above her. It then lashed out with one of its disembodied hands. Initially a fist, as if the Haunter was going to punch her, it unfurled its claws and clamped its hand around her neck, pulling her up to her feet. She stood weakly for a moment before it began to drag her up into the air, high above the others in the room. Marshadow could feel her pain, the hand slowly forcing the life from her body. She tried to claw at it but her fingers only passed right through it. Her kicking legs starting to flail even more in desperation. The end was near.
Marshadow felt something snap inside himself. He was cowardly, yes, but he couldn't allow his own fear to put someone else through this torture. It was his fault and he would do what he could to fix it. He would save her.
He shot out of the shadows, pushing against them to let him speed through the air. As he was a ghost Pokémon too, his form connected with the Haunter's and he tackled it further into the air. The Haunter dropped the trainer roughly to the ground.
Marshadow looked over to check that she was okay and, thankfully, the Ghastly weren't going in to attack her once more. They were, unfortunately, all rushing up after him and the Haunter.
Marshadow turned his head back to the Haunter that he was currently locked in battle with, both clawing at the other as they spun through the air. Marshadow was quickly surrounded by all five of the Pokémon and it was clear to him that they knew how to handle themselves in a fight; he could feel their confidence, it was so blatant that it almost overwhelmed the feeling of their anger waving over him. Marshadow began to panic, reconsidering this entire choice to fight them all. What had he been thinking? He wasn't a fighter, he was made to hide, not hit, right?
Marshadow pushed off from the Haunter but got caught in its large hands, the claws wrapping around his waist and pressing in, trying to squeeze him like it did the trainer's neck. Out of instinct, Marshadow did the only thing he knew how to do and melted into the shadows. The Haunter's claws closed in on nothing as the Marshadow vanished from view.
He dropped down to the ground and ran to the trainer, still invisible, to check on how she was doing. She looked bad, but she was healthy enough to still be awake and watch the fight between the Pokémon. Her eyes were squinting in the darkness, likely looking for him, now that he was nowhere to be seen.
Content with her health, the Marshadow stepped back from the trainer, and immediately slipped on some of the blood that had splattered across the floorboards near her. Still unsteady on his small legs, the Marshadow did his best to stay upright, but as he looked up, he locked eyes with the trainer. He was visible.
The ghost Pokémon all looked down, spotting the two of them. Marshadow looked up as they sped down in a wave of fury, determined to erase him from their home entirely. Unprepared and acting out of an unknown muscle memory, Marshadow ducked behind his small arms, as the trainer tried to hide behind her backpack once again.
The Marshadow felt the impact of the Haunter's punch as it planted its fist into his exposed torso. He left the ground and was sent flying towards the closest wall, slamming into it and falling to the ground, already exhausted. Some of the Ghastly were beginning to look back over at the trainer, seeing this small Pokémon as no longer a threat. Marshadow didn't have much energy left as he watched the trainer desperately try and bat away the ghosts unsuccessfully. He reached out, against the pain of the swiping claws, feeling the fear and pain within the trainer over and over, the satisfaction of victory within the ghost Pokémon, and he watched the world burn bright, before he blacked out entirely.