Second chapter at last. I got this one proofread. Umm... Anyway, things are starting to pick up. School is killing me. KILLING ME I SAY! cough Oh and please excuse the rebels in this chapter. Them and K+ don't mix that's why it's been censored.
Starting today... And the days before that, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.
:-:oOo:-:
"In other news, the valuable Karnic Gem is still missing from the Domino Museum. Police have been busy searching for clues but so far-"
"I don't want your crap, Fuji. I want to know why the offer didn't go through."
"- The robbery took place Monday at 3:21...several hours and… the whereabouts of the perpetrator are-"
"What!? Listen here! If we can get that offer to pull through, we can rake up to an extra 15 million. You hear that, Fuji?"
"-is worth thousands of dollars and rumored by the ancients to have the ability to-"
"I don't care! Either you're finding a way for that offer to go through or you will be finding a new job!" CLACK! "Grr..."
"If you have knowledge on the whereabouts of this artifact, please call..."
Mokuba's eyes peeled themselves off of the television for a minute to see the vicious raptor his brother had become. It had only taken one minor thing to go wrong for the whole volcano of his brother's temper to erupt and burn everything in its path. From the time of the phone call during the ride home, inky black clouds quickly started covering the sky. As the sky darkened so did Seto's mood. And now, Seto was boiling angry. It wasn't surprising, Mokuba thought, that asking for a day of relaxation and fun was a death wish once again. An old pattern was once again repeating itself. Seto's temper could ruin any hopes for a pleasant outing in a second, just like snow vaporizes under hot lava.
The CEO went back to his computer, obviously trying to get his mind on something else, but it was hard to remove the ugly expression of scorn from his face. He sat stiffly for a bit, typing who knew what, and then absent-mindedly rubbing the touch pad in between the tapping entries. It wasn't long before Seto glanced at his brother and caught on to Mokuba's concern. "What?" Seto snapped, anger controlling him.
"Ah, nothing..." the preteen said quickly, looking away guiltily. In response, the ball of fury sizzled, letting out a tired groan and leaning forth on the desk to rub his temples. A headache was starting to take its toll as punishment for his rage.
"Tell Woodwill to get some Tylenol, would you..." His tone was softer this time, but it was only the frustration had shriveled into exhaustion.
"Sure thing, big bro," Mokuba assured him, hopping off the couch. Despite Seto's lash-out and overall coldness, the boy couldn't help but forgive him. Even during the times that he was really nasty, and they were relatively often, the boy would always see an excuse for it. His reasons being, well, that he still believed there was a good side to his big brother, he knew it. He had seen it firsthand in the days they lived in the orphanage. Back then Seto wasn't a corporate bigot who put people down because they didn't meet his standards. He was a guardian, a valiant hero and an idol. To a degree he still was today… but it was his niceness and social acceptance of others that he had buried, and buried deep. At times, it was these forgotten emotions that Mokuba missed the most.
The preteen made haste finding the butler, and it wasn't long before he located him at his usual spot in the entry. After taking care of Seto's message, Mokuba was soon on his way back, not knowing there was a slight surprise waiting for him in the hallway. The teenager that had sent him off was already heading down the hallway.
"Huh? Seto?" Mokuba questioned.
"I'm going to bed..." was the calm response he got.
"But it's only..."
"What? Am I not allowed to go to bed before 11:00?"
"No. It's just... odd... and I told Woodwill to get some Tyenol..."
"He can drop it by my bedroom." With that the CEO continued down the hall, but left one last reminder before opening the door to his bedroom, "And please don't stay up." The door latch clicked softly and the boy was out in the hallway, alone.
The little brother started back to the office again, where the TV was still buzzing, and as he walked, thoughts came up. They were the ones that Seto forbid.
:-:oOo:-:
What a wondrous haze that was taking place outside, a clash of black and white, dark and light. Powdery snakes curled and looped as the wind pulled them through a black abyss. As they flew wildly through the air, the flakes that made up their body fell into a white carpet below, only to be replaced by new ones from the heavens. However, no matter how hard the wind blew, no matter what was moving in a 3-mile radius, it was as silent as the grave. This was good. This was very good for the silhouette holding back the wind's impatience. Like a lone phantom he glided over the snow, not even letting muffled crunches out of his steps. As he moved, his glittered black trench coat trashed about in the wind, but not even it's flapping made a sound.
Finally, the persona stopped, looking up at an intricately designed wrought-iron mesh connecting two stone pillars at the top. Black vines and roses wove around each other, caressing each other but frozen cold by winter's breath. Only did they care enough to give leeway to two lines of letters.
'BLOSSOM'S FIELD CEMETARY'
'Wishes to those for eternal peace'
The man covered his mouth with a gloved hand to release a cough, then slipped in between the pillars into the sanctuary.
It was a lonely place but ironic considering that at one point in time, each grave was a living person. All around the guest, as he followed the salted brick path, there was what used to be knowledge, what used to be stories and tales, and what used to be love and care. If each person in that cemetery were still animated, still talking and laughing, it would have been similar to a late night social festivity. But sadly, death didn't work in such a way, and the place was lonely. The only thing that could greet the man here, were blocks of stone, capped with snow.
The stranger looked around, two malevolent grey eyes scratching the tip of every grave. He was searching. "Where is he…?" he muttered under a gray scarf. His feet led him through the rows and columns of the forgotten, relentless and untiring. Only until he saw something remotely like his goal, did he take time to get a better view. However, he was dismayed by the duds, and forced to continue his search.
The man then branched out into a small subdivision of the cemetery. Only thirty graves awaited him here, and all of them gazed piercingly into his soul. This did not scare him, however. He began the routine again, row after row, column after column, until his heart skipped a beat at the wanted name. He sped silently over to a particularly fancy marble headstone. It's expensive carving was frosted by the wind and like it neighbors, it was covered in snow. This was the grave, this was the person, that the phantom was looking for.
He grinned a sinister grin, looking over the headstone. "Well, well, old man… You don't look so good…" The headstone of course, didn't answer him, and the stranger proceeded. "Don't worry, I'm going to give you something special. Something you'll be grateful for. Something so special you'll be thanking me in riches." With that, he reached into the deep pocket of his coat and pulled out a black balled up wad of cloth. Quickly, he began to unravel it. Before long, a multicolored gem was shimmering in the center of his palm. It was a small thing, not much bigger than his thumb and jagged, yet the importance it held to the man made him treat it with much dignity. Out of his opposite pocket he brought out ten pieces of silver metal, the pieces of a stand. With these parts, he knelt over and began his work. For five minutes, pieces clicked and fitted, rotated and meshed, until the grand result met his eyes.
With the most tedious part over, he opened his eyes and ears for unwelcome spies. Realizing there was none, he finalized his project. Carefully, he fed the gem into a small indent of the stand and backed up several feet to overlook his work. Everything was in order. He reached into his pocket again and this time, brought out a lock of black hair. He held it out away from him, as far as his arm would let him, and began to whisper in a language long forgotten.
"Rise…" he uttered and the lock fell into the snow. For a minute he stood there, waiting for a response. Nothing happened. He looked around then went to observe his work. The man bent next to the stand, checking its positioning. He plucked out the gem from its seat and rotated it, "This can't be a fake can it?… The spell… No, I've rehearsed it perfectly for years… Grr… WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG!" He gave the stand a rough kick and watched it shatter back into the ten pieces it started as. "DAMN IT!" His breath threw flames over the mess for small while, but within seconds he had himself calmed down. "Alright… just try again…"
Once again the man recreated the stand, placed the stone, repeated the chant, and dropped the lock of hair. Still, once again, nothing happened, and a stream of curses fled from his mouth. He clenched his fist and readied an assault on the innocent stand, but then voices came. The man froze, and whipped his head like a deer caught in a headlight. They echoed in the distance…
"Yeah, my dad is a loser. I came home with another F the other day and he just-"
"-- man. Did you take that permanent marker when he-"
"-yeah… He's gonna be sore tomorrow, but who cares-"
They were kids… A group of punks by the sound of it. The man calmed down. It wasn't the police, but he knew it was time to leave. Hastily, he broke up the stand and returned the parts to the shelter of his pockets. The lock of hair and gem joined them soon after, and in the ghostly way he entered the cemetery, he left it. Now the boys could enjoy themselves without the threat of witnessing something they weren't supposed to.
:-:oOo:-:
By the end of the hour, the snowfall had calmed and the adolescent boys invading the cemetery had enjoyed their share of late 'fun' time. Still, although the clock was on the brink of striking twelve, a pack of cigarettes had already been passed around. All four boys held a joint between their fingers, which they pulled to their lips relatively often. Through their crude conversations they took turns letting loose suffocating breaths of smoke. These were not to be mistaken for the cold.
"Man, you know what would be cool? If that -- just burned down. Won't have to worry about no -- teachers telling us what to do and giving us bad grades just because we don't want to be 'contributing member's of society?'"
"What society? The ghettos? Meh, teachers are lame… Don't bother even trying to listen to them. Especially that Mr. Gart-u-gis or whatever the hell his name is."
"Hey, Harley! Give me another joint will you?"
"No! Get your own! I just gave you one 2 minutes ago!"
"Come on Har, don't be an --. Give him another joint!"
"You think cigs grow on trees? I had to swipe this from my dad's drawer when he was passed out on the couch."
"Oh? And how often does your dad pass out again? It's a rare occasion isn't it, --."
"Hey, shut the -- up!"
Finally the clock struck twelve and the boys were silenced by a beeping coming from the tallest one's watch. "Midnight already?" he asked, pulling up his watch.
"We're not going home so I don't see why you should worry about…" his friend started but trailed off, as he caught sight of something unusual in the distance. A light was shimmering far off in the distance.
"Huh? Hey, what's up with that?"
"Dunno. Come on, let's check it out."
"No way dude, we could get caught."
"Don't be a pussy. Just a quick look." The four boys with curiosity beckoning them, threw their burning cigarettes to the ground and started creeping to the light. Each took a place behind their own tree, their own headstone, but they were all heading in the same direction. Once close enough, the sight they saw baffled them. The orb of light that drew them like moths had no body. There was no flashlight, no reflection. It was simply a peculiar floating orb, shedding glitter over one of the graves. Out of this sight, the boys exchanged glances at each other. Each wore their own puzzled and stunned expression.
The leader of the group, feeling a bit braver than the others, stepped forward from behind his hiding spot to get a better look at the ball of light. That's not to say he wasn't a bit nervous about what this thing would do to him. His head constantly jerked back to the others, searching for backup but finding none. In the end, he could only move forward, one foot ahead of the other. After much hesitation, he succeeded in a distance ten feet from the object. It was frightening for him to stick his toe for another step, but he did it. That's when the orb burst into a glittery frenzy. It sparked like a wild firecracker without popping or cracking, and the 'bold' teenager started to freak out. Quickly, he whipped around, trying to escape, but without perfectly matching his feet to his escape plan, the boy soon found himself yelling, face-down in the snow.
Now the orb was beginning to transform. Through the sparks, it stretched and sculpted itself. Limbs sprouted from its points and detailed themselves to resemble slender arms and legs. Soon after, a sphere appeared on its shoulders and began to shape itself to have the face of a beautiful young lady. The formation of waist and figure squeezed and expanded, and at last the piece of art was finished. The stunned boys watched as the glowing silhouette of the women fell to the ground. Finally, her radiance began to vanish, and she was left stumbling as a mere mortal in a lush dress.
The woman was gorgeous although a bit lanky, and bushy brown hair descended down her back, going as far as her elbows. The silk dress she wore shined a pastel blue, and was decorated with all kinds of fancy embroidery. There to compliment it, was a gold gemstone necklace and a small shimmering wedding band set on her finger.
She opened her gray eyes to the new world that watched her, and her mouth opened to speak the first words that came into her mind. "What the…? Wh-Where the heck am I!?" Not long after, she noticed the whimpering teenage boy on the ground before her. It was the ever brave rebel who, clad in black leather, was still in the process of fleeing… and soiling his pants. "Huh? Hey! Hey! Wait! What's-"
"GHOST!! RUN FOR IT!! IT'S A FLIPPING GHOST!!" The rebel cried out, as he finally found a way back onto his feet and sped off into the chilly night. The other three took no time to hesitate, not even for the confused calls of the woman. Giving up their hiding spots one-by-one, they each vanished after their leader and ran to the sanctity of home.
"HEY!! WAIT!! Come back! What do you mean ghost!?" the lady cried out, lurching after but not bothering to chase them. Once their screams and swearing disappeared, she stood up straight again, and her arms wrapped around her bosom. Darn, it was so freezing. Why was she wearing a dress of all things in this kind of weather? Why was she in this weather to begin with. Nothing made sense. "Where am I…? Is this some kind of dream?" she asked, but there was nobody to answer her.
Her attention wandered for explanation, tossing her head back, forth, left, and right. There was nobody in sight from what she could see, and nobody to help her. Thus, she knew that the only person to answer her questions was herself. She recollected. What as the last thing she remembered? A sick feeling overcame her as she instinctually grabbed her stomach. "N-No…" Her eyes looked over the graves and headstones, and she shivered as the coldness was allowed to slip in. "Okay… Okay… This is just a dream… Don't panic…" She rubbed her arms, and sent out a call. "HELLO! Is anybody out there…!?" Her voice went without a reply. "I could use some help!" Like the first time, there was nothing to reassure her. There was only one thing to do now. If nobody was going to help her, she was going to have to help herself. She needed shelter.
The lonely woman followed the brick pathway to the edge of the cemetery. All the while, the sight of frozen gravestones continued to hammer fear and uneasiness in her heart. She felt like collapsing and crying, but the sound of her own chanting voice guided her onward. Logic had to remind her that warmth and shelter were her needs right now. If she obtained those, then she would be allowed to sit down and let her lost and helpless emotions out. Nevertheless, it was still very tempting to just break down right there and now. She was lost, confused, and there wasn't anybody to console her. The lady wanted her husband, she wanted her little boy. She wanted them to pop out from behind a tree and tell her everything was okay, that this was some sort of practical joke, a dream. She wanted this so badly that her eyes squinted, as though expecting to see them through the shadows cast by the moon. Sadly, in the end, her only savior was the two pillars leading out of the cemetery.
Highly disappointed, but not surprised, the woman accepted this fate with all its confusion and fear. Before she left though, a single last look over her shoulder was called for. The trees, the loneliness of death, it was all staring at her back now. Her throat swallowed and she took a deep breath. Despite this shock, she had to toughen up. Her family was waiting for her at home. They should be waiting for her at home. She started onto the sidewalk.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
A masculine scream shattered her bones. It was the most horrendous scream she had ever heard. The octaves, the pitch, they were from the ones that had been embedded in her memory for life, and she knew exactly who they belonged to.
"Daichi? DAICHI!!" she called back. All her loneliness and confusion were thrown into the back of her mind as a new direction was set for her. She raced back into the cemetery and on brick and ice, she ran. No longer did she permit the gravestones to torment her, for she had to save her hubby.
:-:oOo:-:
Next Chapter...
Err... You know what. I'm feeling evil today, so I'm leave you with a cliffhanger. Kthanxbye!
