A deep blackness. He was awake, but could not see. He could not feel, though he knew he was present. He tried moving his arms and kicking his legs. He felt the movement, but not resistance from wherever he was suspended. It felt so similar to a dream he had forgotten. Was it recent, or ancient? There were no lights. That was the main difference. A simple, black void.

Why didn't he feel pain? He had been severely injured, that much he could remember. Before the light. Surely, if he were awake, he would feel the wounds he had sustained. This couldn't be death, could it? Wasn't he a ghost? How could he die? He felt a fleeting argument, within this empty silence. I'm too young to die. Was he? How old was he? Why couldn't he remember so many gaping chunks of his life, or afterlife, or whatever it was he could call this existence?

The nothingness split open.

Marshadow opened his eyes. A red light retracted from around him, pulling away from him and leaving the world in a bright technicolor. The light retreated within a Pokéball that that trainer from earlier was holding. Marshadow looked up at her as she looked expectantly down at him. Neither seemed to know how to react to meeting properly, outside of danger.

Had this girl put him into a Pokéball? Without his permission? Had she really captured him without him even knowing? Was that the light that he had seen?

Marshadow's confusion and disorientation turned to anger; the flames that mixed into the shadows of his body flaring as his temper did the same.

"I know what it looks like," the trainer said slowly, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. She realized she was still holding the offending Pokéball and quickly tucked it into her jacket pocket. "I needed to put you into one," she continued quickly, trying to get the story out before Marshadow could decide how to react, "I couldn't carry you all the way to a Pokécenter. I was hurting, too. I know that's not really an excuse, but-".

The trainer appeared to catch herself before she started to ramble any further. Marshadow looked her over and could easily see that she was, indeed, injured. She had stitches, bandages and plasters covering most of the exposed parts of her body, with more bandages peeking out from under her clothes. He could remember feeling her pain.

What did this mean for whether she had captured him or not, though? He didn't know the customs of being caught by trainers. He barely knew anything about his current situation, about himself, or where he was. It all felt familiar, though. Not as if he had been there before, but perhaps he had; in a different way.

"I'll bet you hate me," the trainer was saying. Marshadow figured she hadn't properly caught herself in that ramble and had continued to talk anyway. He'd just stopped listening momentarily. "I'm just so curious about you. I've never seen a Pokémon like you and, well, you saved me. If you like, I can return you to your spot in the woods. Then I'll leave you be, I promise."

Marshadow considered the offer. The trainer seemed sincere enough, but what if she just captured him again in his sleep? It wasn't as if he knew which way to go to return to that lovely part of the woods, so it would help for someone to show him the way back. Maybe he could begin to remember things before they returned and he might be able to sort out whatever mess of a mind he had going on.

Marshadow nodded, hoping against anything that it wasn't a mistake.

While the sun was out, the ground was still wet from the night's rain. Marshadow was slow, walking beside the taller trainer as she hummed along to the rhythm of her stride. He was still getting to grips with how to walk upright. His running had mainly been on instinct, but he was beginning to get the hang of it now that he wasn't under pressure. The glare of the sun didn't help things as he had to keep his head down to keep the worst of it out of his eyes.

The trainer noticed Marshadow struggling to keep pace with her and she tentatively offered the Pokéball to make the trip easier, but he irritably batted her hand away. He wouldn't be going back into one of them if he could help it. The void within them haunted his mind's eye as they walked. He wanted nothing to do with it, although he couldn't remember why. Did ghosts even dream? What would their dreams be of, but memories of lives they'd lived? Weren't dreams meant to be of hopes to accomplish? Could ghosts even accomplish anything else? Did he have the right to even ask?

As usual. Too many questions... Too little answers...

The walk was long and slow. Marshadow had been let out of the ball outside of the city walls. "For a more peaceful wake up," the trainer had explained. He was grateful for that, at least. Considering how he had reacted to one human, he dreaded to think what an entire city of them would be like. Loud and nosy, most likely. They still had quite a distance to travel to make it to the forest and the speed that Marshadow was walking at only made the distance feel that much further.

Marshadow considered the piercing brightness of the sun and understood that if he needed to leave the forest to find out more answers about himself, he would need to get used to being under that exposure.

The shade provided by the trees, once they finally reached them, was unimaginably comforting for Marshadow. It was only once he was back within the shadows that he questioned how he had even lasted so long in the sun. It wasn't that it was painful, but more that he felt he had never looked around while in direct sunlight. Like the sting of waking up and being hit by a bright light unexpectedly, but instead of just one night, as if your whole life was within the darkness of dreams.

Dreams.

Marshadow looked around, the comforting shadows sending a momentary chill down his form. For but a moment, he thought he could see something hiding, looking at him from behind the tree trunks. He couldn't spot anything, but he was unnerved nonetheless.

"Is everything okay?" The trainer asked, "you look nervous."

Marshadow shrugged, still looking around for the culprit.

"I suppose those ghosts might still be playing tricks on your mind," the trainer said, "but don't worry, I doubt they would be anywhere near here. Oh darn, I suppose I just jinxed it didn't I? They could be all over here for all I know!"

Marshadow looked up at the trainer as she fretted, continuing to talk as if her mind had no filter at all. He, lightly, punched her in the calf. Shocked for a moment, she looked down at Marshadow. He gave her a stern look and then held his hands out flat, unshaking. Calm.

"You're right," the trainer said, breathing in deeply and then sighing, "I suppose I'm just projecting my nerves onto you, but I should be calm. Yes, you're right."

The two of them continued in relative quiet for a few more hours, taking in the sounds of the forest. Marshadow's heightened senses, although he assumed they had always been this powerful, he just wasn't sure why he now thought they were heightened. Did they used to be weaker somehow? That wouldn't make any sense. He took in the feel of the large, rough bark of the tree roots as they walked by each tree. This small, they looked huge. The trees were definitely large, but they felt even larger than he'd expected; this was also strange as he had always been this size, right?

Marshadow felt like whatever had happened within the old chateau had reignited something that he had almost pushed down. He couldn't remember much, but he could remember something. A questioning. A presence that pestered at the wings of his consciousness, restless and unrelenting. He thought that had simply been an after effect of the amnesia that had worn off as he had woken up, but it was back. He could feel it. It was waiting for a lapse in clarity, a hole to pierce through and begin questioning once more. But what was it questioning and why didn't he feel attached to it? Was it him, or something else entirely, pushing to take over?

The sun began to set before the pair of them were close to getting back to Marshadow's corner of the forest and the trainer decided to set up camp for the night. Marshadow could have just wandered off into the forest and found his own way home but, for some reason, he stayed.

He sat back, just away from the campfire, and watched the trainer cook up her dinner.

"I have some food I save for my Piplup, if you'd like to eat something?" The trainer asked, bringing Marshadow out of his musings. "I'd rather not bring him out while you're here in case you break out into a scrap. But you're welcome to try some food."

Marshadow hesitantly walked forward and sat down opposite the trainer, by the fire. His large eyes reflected the flames back into her own and they sat, eating their respective dinners, in silence. The fire provided the low, crackling backdrop to their wordless conversation as they each stared into the other's eyes.

"I'm sorry," the trainer said quietly, after such a long time of not speaking. Marshadow had actually been impressed with how long she had gone without talking, considering how much she had tried to fill the silence as they had walked throughout the day. "I just realized I'd not introduced myself," she said, "my name is Alexis. Alexis Berry. Yes, I know it's a funny name, but that's what I'm called. How about you? What should I call you, little ghostling?"

Marshadow thought for a moment. He had a name, didn't he? He could feel it, on the edge of his brain. If he just managed to hold onto that one scrap of information, he might be able to-

It was gone. He opened his mouth to try and explain that he wasn't sure.

"Marsh. Marshadow," he said. He stopped speaking and grabbed his throat. He didn't mean to say that. What was a Marshadow anyway? Was he a Marshadow?

"Marshadow?" Alexis repeated, testing out how the name sounded, "yes, Marshadow. It suits you!"

Marshadow was so confused. How had his mouth said something entirely different to what he had wanted to say? But, had he ever said anything different? He struggled to think of what it would sound like for him to speak like this Alexis was speaking. This amnesia was messing with him too much. He just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up until he could remember again. What if he fell asleep and forgot everything once again? Did it happen every time he slept?

"You know, Marshadow," Alexis said, "I'm on a sort of journey at the moment. My Piplup and I. We were really only passing through the forest with hopes of catching a Pokémon on our way to our first destination. I want to be the best Pokémon trainer in Sinnoh, maybe even the world some day. Do you have any dreams like that?"

Dreams.

Marshadow thought back to wanting to simply stay in his shady corner of the forest and sleep until he could remember who or what he was. That didn't really count as a dream, though. He took a moment to think a bit more before shaking his head, no.

"How would you like the sound of joining us on our journey? See a bit more of the world besides this forest? You saved my life, I feel like I owe you a little more than a walk home."

Marshadow felt an instinctual reluctance to say yes.

"You don't have to answer just yet," Alexis said quickly, "maybe sleep on it?"

Marshadow continued to look at her without showing what he was thinking. She seemed so eager to have him as company. Was she naïve, for wanting a stranger alongside her after barely knowing him a day? Was she too trusting, or perhaps lonely, like him? He couldn't figure it out, but he would take her advice. He would sleep on the decision and, hopefully, know how to act come morning.

...

...

...

Shadows whipped around his weary bones. Crushed. Useless. How had he not died yet? Didn't he need air to breathe? Didn't he need lungs? How long had it been since his skin had withered away in protest of his death? That's right. He had died. He had just… forgotten. Was this all there was? To be left, going insane, abandoned by all? He had heard the rescue teams, digging through the rubble of the cave in, but nobody had found him. Nobody knew he really existed here, in a dream, so why would anyone come looking for him? It was his job to die and that was all. He was beginning to forget his life, back home, with a family. Was this life even a dream, or was it an afterlife that he had stupidly believed to be paradise? Why had he thought he, of all people, deserved paradise? Now he was doomed to dwell, choked by rock, forever.

...

...

...

Marshadow woke up at the same time Alexis did. Perhaps her waking up had roused him from his own odd dream. Was it a nightmare? He tried to think on what he had seen, but it was already long forgotten. It didn't matter, not really. Dreams were unimportant. He needed to focus on real life and he had a big decision to make. Unfortunately, sleeping had provided no answers to his dilemma.

Marshadow looked over at Alexis, who was also slow getting up to start the day. She looked troubled and had some of her dark hair sticking to her face. Had she had a nightmare?

"Good morning," Alexis said, distractedly, "how did you sleep?"

"Marshadow," Marshadow said, forgetting that he only spoke in one word now. That would get irritating quickly, but he still couldn't work out why he thought he was able to speak any differently before.

"Good good," Alexis said. She was starting to busy herself around the campsite, packing things up so that they could get moving again. "Did you think any more about what we spoke about? It might be a bit quicker to get on our way south if we don't need to detour to your forest patch. What do you say?"

Alexis looked at Marshadow, almost desperately. He wasn't sure what she had seen as she'd slept, but it couldn't have been pleasant. He felt a pang of pity looking into her eyes. There was loneliness there and he could feel it within himself too. He wasn't sure if he was feeling her solitary sorrow, or his own, but there was a fix for both. Marshadow nodded. He would join her on her trip.

Alexis grinned and jumped in the air in excitement.

"That's wonderful news!" She exclaimed, before slowing down and looking thoughtful. "Does that mean you'd like to go back in a Pokéball?"

Marshadow adamantly shook his head. If he was to travel, he wanted to experience this world he had apparently forgotten. He needed to live to figure out his past.

"That's settled then," Alexis smiled, "you and I will walk to find our destiny. I'll let Piplup out in a bit to say hi to you. He's a little grouchy after staying in his Pokéball for so long, so I'll leave it till a little later in the day. I'm sure he'll love you."

Piplup did not, in fact, love Marshadow.

Alexis had given some thought to the direction they were heading, and the location of the sun in the sky, and then begun striding off into the forest. Marshadow almost struggled to keep up with the pace she was setting. She was clearly excited about having two Pokémon in her party.

Was Marshadow part of her party? He guessed that she had technically captured him in that Pokéball, but he had joined her willingly afterwards, so he wasn't sure whether he was part of her party or his own Pokémon. He also wasn't sure he liked the idea of being owned by some other being. It felt- well, dehumanizing was the wrong word, but he somehow identified with that word the most.

Marshadow was prepared for the sting of the sun once they had finally made their way out of the forest, walking down south towards wherever Alexis was planning on going. Where would someone start their journey if they wanted to be a powerful Pokémon trainer?

True to her word, she let Piplup out to join them as they stopped for a bite of lunch. Piplup was so much smaller than Marshadow, just over half his height. Yet the water Pokémon was as fiery as he was small.

"I'm the favorite, got it?" Were Piplup's first words to Marshadow, who simply nodded before realizing he could understand him.

"You're not saying Piplup?" Marshadow said.

"And you aren't saying Marshadow," Piplup said, "so what? That's just what the humans hear."

"But, how does that work?"

"What do you mean, how does it work? It just does."

"But, if I'm saying one thing to you and you're hearing it, but Alexis is hearing me saying something else? How does that even make sense?"

"How are you only questioning it now?" Piplup laughed, "you must not get out much. Hell, you do look like you need some sun."

"I'm getting enough of it, thanks," Marshadow replied irritably. He could tell that he wasn't going to get along well with this other Pokémon.

"You're a weird one," Piplup said, "can't say I've ever seen or heard of a Marshadow before, but I'm the one Alexis has had from the beginning. Stay in line."

"I never said I-"

"Stay in line."

"Okay, jeez."

Alexis watched on nervously as the two Pokémon spoke to each other. She could tell from their body language that it wasn't the happiest of conversations, but she couldn't interfere. She had to let them work things out.

"You might be cool and special," Piplup said, "but I'm a water Pokémon. When we get to Oreburgh, Alexis will only need me to wipe the floor with the rock lovers down there."

"What did you say?" Marshadow asked, an odd feeling like a freight train punched through his chest.

"I'm a water-"

"No, no. Not that. The other thing. Where are we going?"

"Oreburgh City?"

Marshadow couldn't explain why that name sparked such a pain within him but he stumbled and fell. He needed somewhere to hide. Anywhere.

He saw flashes. Violence. Blood. Pain. Laughter. Had he been arrogant, or was it someone else? A punishment or a reward, both the same in the deadly mistake.

He had begun to remember.