Marshtomp had just evolved, and Allen hadn't yet had the chance to fully assess what new changes came with the transformation. But if there was one thing every trainer knew, it was that evolution often unlocked new moves.
From what he remembered on the Wiki, one such move was Mud Shot.
Seeing Allen stunned silent, the senior grunt sneered, cracking his knuckles with an over-the-top flourish. "Tch! So what if your little fish grew legs?" he scoffed, waving dismissively. "You think evolving makes you special? You're still just a soggy little—"
"Muddy, use Mud Shot!" Allen cut in sharply.
Scientists suggest that Pokémon possess something called "ancestral memory"—a kind of genetic encoding that stores dormant knowledge. When a Pokémon evolves, it triggers these hidden instructions, almost like remembering something it always knew but had never used.
As Professor Rowan once stated in a school textbook: "It's not that they 'learn' a move the way humans do. It's more like their bodies become the right tool for the job—and the instinct kicks in, like muscle memory waiting to be activated."
When a Pokémon evolves, its body undergoes rapid and intense physiological changes. These often include: Muscle development, such as stronger limbs, nervous system upgrades allowing greater control over elemental powers like fire or water, new appendages or structures like wings, fins, or claws that enable new forms of attack.
These biological shifts unlock the potential for new behaviors or abilities, accompanied by a massive surge of internal energy—Evolution acting as the catalyst that "rewires" the Pokémon's body and restructures its energy.
Think of it like how a bird instinctively knows how to migrate without being taught, or how a newborn foal can walk within minutes of birth.
Marshtomp's body shimmered for a moment, as if adjusting to the sudden changes brought on by its evolution.
"Marsh..." it growled, its voice more defined and confident than before.
With its newly evolved legs digging firmly into the ground, the Pokémon readied itself.
Marshtomp opened its mouth, and instead of the usual water blasts, a surge of energy gathered within, pulsing briefly before releasing several large balls of mud. The projectiles shot out with surprising force, aimed directly at the opponents.
The first mud ball rocketed through the air, spinning as it sped toward Hypno. It struck the psychic-type square in the chest with a loud splat, the force of the impact sending Hypno staggering back. A surprised grunt escaped Hypno as the thick mud splattered across its yellow skin, weighing it down and slowing its movements as it struggled to regain its usual composure.
Azumarill was the next target. One of the smaller mud balls zipped through the air and struck it directly on its side. The impact caused Azumarill to stumble, its balance momentarily thrown off. The water-type struggled to maintain its footing after the attack, the slippery mud now clinging to its body, making every movement just a little bit harder.
Vibrava, sensing the incoming barrage, shot upward with a sudden flap of its wings. The dragon-like Pokémon soared higher, dodging the mud balls effortlessly. It hovered in place, keeping a safe distance above the ground, wings beating steadily as it looked down at the scene, unimpressed by Marshtomp's assault.
"Fuck!" the senior grunt snarled, enraged by how quickly the battle had turned against him.
Allen sneered in response. 'No wonder every villain in the Pokémon world can't beat that dumb Ash. You guys always waste time showing off and giving grand speeches. Makes you look stupid.'
He pointed toward the sky. "Muddy, Rock Throw on Vibrava!"
Marshtomp growled and slammed its fists into the ground. Chunks of jagged stone shot upward from the earth, hovering briefly before launching toward the green, dragonfly-like Pokémon.
Vibrava's wings buzzed rapidly — "Bzzzt! Bzzzzaat!" — as it instinctively tried to dodge. But the rocks came too fast. One caught it clean across the side, sending the dragon-type spinning through the air with a sharp cry before it managed to stabilize mid-flight.
Seeing the situation rapidly deteriorate, the senior grunt grew tense. His plan to regroup and counterattack was falling apart. He glanced at Azumarill and Hypno, but both were still bogged down — their limbs coated in thick, heavy mud from Marshtomp's earlier assault.
"Azumarill, Aqua Ring—wash off the mud!"
A gentle veil of water formed around Azumarill's body, swirling in elegant loops. The cool, flowing ring pulsed outward, and with a burst of motion, the water splashed across its mud-slicked fur. The thick muck that had clung stubbornly to its body began to slide off, washed away by the self-sustaining stream. Freed from the hindrance, Azumarill stood tall once more, its movements lighter and more fluid.
"Hypno, use Confusion!"
The Psychic-type's eyes snapped open, glowing with a soft, eerie light. Confusion required no physical movement—only focused intent—and Hypno had plenty of that.
A wave of weak telekinetic energy radiated from its body, rippling invisibly through the air. It surged toward Marshtomp, aiming to cloud its mind and disrupt its focus.
Allen frowned at the situation. If it were a one-on-one—or even one-on-two—he believed Marshtomp could still hold his ground. But three? Plus that annoying Vibrava hovering above with its constant, high-pitched buzzing?
Things were quickly tipping out of his favor.
He quickly reached for another Pokéball and took a long, thoughtful look at it.
This one contained Hisuian Zoroark—who still hadn't approved of him yet. As for how he knew Zoroark still didn't approve of him—it was simple.
Normally, everyone knows that Pokéballs have an opaque shell—red and white for the standard ones, or red and blue for Greatballs. However, recently, the Pokémon Association, in collaboration with Kanto's Silph Co. and the Laverre Pokémon Factory in Kalos, made a breakthrough.
Instead of the traditional opaque design, Pokéballs now feature a clear shell that allows trainers to see the Pokémon inside.
Just imagine—you've got six Pokéballs on your belt. How are you supposed to know which Pokémon is inside which ball? You could try organizing them in a specific order, but let's be real—are you really going to keep that perfectly consistent forever?
One day, you'll panic, grab the wrong one, and instead of sending out your badass Garchomp, you accidentally throw out a Magikarp. And boom—you're toast.
His Mudkip, for example—when he first caught the little blue Pokémon and it finally accepted him, he could see it curled up inside the Pokéball, calm and secure.
He then connected this to a theory he had once read about Pokéballs: that they were meticulously designed not only for capturing Pokémon, but also for transporting, protecting, monitoring, healing and training them.
There's also a theory that when a Pokéball hits a Pokémon, as long as it isn't deflected, the ball will open, causing the Pokémon to shrink and be stored inside before closing. While inside, the Pokémon has a chance to struggle and attempt to break free, and if it succeeds in escaping, the device is destroyed.
Allen had never tested that theory himself. Pokéballs were expensive in the first place, and he couldn't afford to it—especially when most of his money went toward buying incubation fluid instead of catching Pokémon. Not to mention the loan he still owed his aunt. After all, every new capture meant one more daily expense added to his list.
Allen gave a bitter smile. 'I have no idea how angry Zoroark is right now,' he thought to himself.
But he didn't have a choice. "Muddy, back off!" Allen shouted.
"..."
But instead of retreating, Marshtomp just spun in dizzy circles, eyes swirling like a washing machine on max speed.
Allen's eye twitched. "Oh no. He's gone full dumb mode."
Without wasting another second, he chucked the Pokéball at Marshtomp like a quarterback on a deadline, scooped it up mid-recall, and bolted.
"Nope! We are not dying today!"
Everything happened so fast that the senior grunt—who was still busy smirking with one hand on his chest like he owned the world—stood frozen, stunned. Then, he exploded. "Where do you think you're going, brat?! All of you—CATCH HIM! NOW!"
Internally, though, his thoughts were far more twisted.
That Marshtomp… just imagining the payout made his heart race. Collectors paid a premium for evolved starters. That thing was practically a walking pile of cash.
And the kid?
Heh… street rats like him always had a price. Organ buyers would kill for a healthy kidney or two. Or who knows? Maybe he'd make a decent snack for his Carvanha.
The senior grunt licked his lips. 'You're not getting away, kid…'
As he prepared to give chase, he saw the boy dart behind a nearby boulder. He cursed under his breath and moved to circle around.
But then—another throw.
A Pokéball arced from behind the rock and landed with a soft thud on the dirt.
The senior grunt's eyes narrowed. 'Another one? Hmph. Must be a bluff.'
"Focus on the kid, Vibrava!" he barked. "Azumarill, check out that Pokéball!"
"Azu~!" Azumarill responded with a determined cry, stepping forward with a stance that said 'I've been waiting for this.'
Pshoo-POP!
The Pokéball burst open with a sharp click and a flash of white light, spiraling energy radiating outward. A figure began to take shape—slowly, deliberately—bathed in the shimmer of the release beam.
"What the hell?!" the grunt shouted, stumbling back.
But what appeared wasn't just any Pokémon he knew—it was something completely foreign to him.
'No way… I've never even seen this kind of Pokémon before!' he thought, eyes wide in shock.
It was decked in ghostly white, like a devil from a nightmare. Its enlarged, wild mane writhed in all directions, and it hunched forward in a ghoulish stance. Its piercing red pupils gleamed from within eerie yellow eyes.
Viscerally, it unsettled him—instantly.
"Doesn't matter," he thought, brushing aside the unease crawling up his spine.
"Hypno!" he barked, calling out to the hypnotist Pokémon who had just managed to claw his way free from the mud with Azumarill's help.
"Support Azumarill! Vibrava—go after the kid!" he instructed.
Hearing it was just Vibrava, Allen finally leapt out from behind the boulder. "COME ON!!!" he shouted, energy surging through him and he release Marshtomb once again.
That flying pest? Easy pickings.
"Muddy, go with Mud Shot!"
POOFS!
A wet glob of mud shot up toward the sky—but landed nowhere near its target, as Vibrava had already anticipated the move and dodged with ease.
"Vibrava, Solar Be—"
"Muddy, Rock Throw!" Allen yelled, cutting him off mid-command.
Tiny pebbles launched through the air like angry marbles from a slingshot, but once again, Vibrava managed to avoid them.
"Vibrava, Solar Be—"
"Muddy, Rock Slide!" Allen snapped again, not even letting the command finish.
WHOOSH!
A cascade of rocks rained down like the sky had just given up on this entire battle.
"FUCK YOU, KID!!!" the senior grunt screamed, flailing his arms in rage as Vibrava buzzed around like a drunk mosquito trying to charge a move that never got the chance.
'That's why you better focus on Vibrava alone, so you don't get distracted by one battle,' Allen clicked his tongue.
Still, it was all thanks to Hisuian Zoroark, who had grown more independent, as it could now fight much better—not that it couldn't handle itself, but its style had clearly evolved. It was no longer just a wild, reckless flurry of claws, relying solely on speed and bitter malice like it did during that first battle in the cave
Thinking about what might come next, Allen let out a bitter smile.
And indeed, Allen was right.
Hisuian Zoroark was very angry—its nap had just been disturbed from that strange but incredibly comforting place.
That place… was the inside of the Pokéball
Everyone knows how Pokéball mechanics work. The interior environment is crafted to be Pokémon-friendly and designed for comfort.
Also Pokéball doesn't just serve as a means of containment; it acts as a life-support system of sorts. Instead of allowing a Pokémon to succumb to its injuries, the Pokéball places them in a comatose state, effectively putting them in stasis until they can recover.
All of these factors strongly discourage Pokémon from escaping their Balls. Not only that, they also have their own recovery protocol to prevent fainted Pokémon from completely dying.
This made Hisuian Zoroark, who had been forced into a Pokéball for the first time, surprisingly content. Even if it was that despicable kid who had trapped it in here, at least in this space... it was comfortable.
Safe. Quiet.
No constant threats.
No harsh winds biting at its fur.
No hunger gnawing at its insides.
Just stillness.
For a creature forged by pain and malice, that kind of peace was unfamiliar—but not unwelcome.
...Until now.
Because now, someone had the audacity to wake it up.
Well, to be honest, it wasn't the first time. Every year, whenever Allen got a break from school and returned to his hometown in Sinnoh, he'd dive straight into a little tradition he called Project: DIY Ghost Control (Warning: May Backfire).
It was basically a therapy session—for Yokai, the name he'd given the sassy ghost fox.
That's why Hisuian Zoroark was absolutely livid now. The moment it emerged, it did a quick scan of its surroundings.
'Where's that damn dragon?! And the weird little lolita? And where the hell is that tiny blue water balloon thing?!'
But instead of the three menaces that had constantly annoyed it time and time again, this time… it was different.
Hisuian Zoroark's pupils constricted instantly.
A different human.
Perhaps it was the scent, the tension, or just the sheer wrongness of it all—but something deep inside was triggered.
Like a splinter working its way back to the surface, memories long buried began clawing their way out of the shadows.
Visions returned.
Cold.
So cold.
But not the kind that comes from snow or ice—no, this was the cold made of fear and distrust.
No comfort, no care. Just silence and darkness. Still, even that was better than being surrounded by those filthy humans.
"..."
But…
The memories from the past few years.
That kid...
Hisuian Zoroark remembered—that moment when the boy picked up the Ball containing its body.
The slightest shift, the gentlest nudge, had set off every internal alarm. Its instincts screamed danger. Sharp, honed from years of distrust and survival, it was ready to lash out at anything that came too close.
'Is it another battle?' Hisuian Zoroark thought and a sneer curling across its muzzle.
Muscles tensed, it braced for violence—claws twitching, illusions ready to spring.
But… nothing happened.
Instead, the Pokéball was gently placed on a soft cushion. Beside it, two warm eggs nestled securely in their incubators. Allen sat down nearby, wrapped himself in a blanket, and opened a tattered old book.
A moment passed.
Then, Allen glanced at the Pokéball, his tone light but unsure.
"Can you hear me in there? Can you escape from the Pokéball? No? Are you… comfortable? Do you want an Ultra Ball instead of this one?"
"…"
No answer. Of course not.
"Forget it," Allen mumbled.
He leaned back, the book resting in his lap, and flipped it open to a bookmarked page. His voice softened.
"Once upon a time… in a frozen valley where the snow never melted, there lived a fox spirit made of mist and moonlight…"
His words filled the quiet air, drifting like falling snow—soft, slow, and gentle.
Just a boy and a book under the stars.
Just a human… telling a story.
Inside the Pokéball, Hisuian Zoroark didn't move. But something inside it stilled—like a storm paused mid-rage. Its ears twitched. It listened, unwillingly at first, then curiously.
'Very familiar...'
The tension in its limbs eased ever so slightly, the sneer fading. The restless energy ebbed. The prickling alertness it always held began to dull.
For a moment—just a moment—there was no tension, no weapon, no yelling, no threats.
For once, it could rest without fear. It was just… a Pokémon with its own fairy tale, lulled to sleep by that gentle voice.
And its eyes grew heavier… and heavier… until even the last shred of wariness drifted away like a puff of winter mist.
Then, for the first time in a long while…
…it slept.
CLAP!
The sharp sound of the book closing echoed like a thunderclap.
SNAP!
In that same instant—Hisuian Zoroark's eyes flew open.'WHERE IS THAT BRAT?!'
It panicked instantly before...
"SSCHREEEEEAAAAAK!!"
A piercing, bone-chilling howl echoed through the air like a curse—raw, ancient, and overflowing with wrath… once again unleashed.