Chapter Two
"You mean to tell me that people actually live here?" Manjoume asked dubiously, eying the chipped paint and dented plaster walls of the apartment building's lobby disdainfully. There were broken boards nailed over half the doors and windows, and old yellow 'Caution'tape hung limply in front of the elevator doors in fraying strips. Pieces of wood and torn up newspapers littered the floor, and he could see brightly spray-painted graffiti scrawled across nearly every available flat surface. Juudai simply grinned, maneuvering around the debris to head off to one side. Manjoume stepped away from the main entrance, spinning around slowly on his heel to let his eyes pick up everything. He paused to check the state of the staircase crammed into a tiny alcove in the upper right corner of the lobby as Juudai began to climb it.
"Yep! This is home sweet home," the boy was saying as he picked up his rolling suitcase, tossing it over one shoulder so that the majority of the weight rested on his back. "Come on. We're on the eighth floor."
The stairs were made of concrete and so were not rotted, only chipped and missing pieces of certain steps. The walls were wet inside the mock-stone alcove, a sign that someone's pipes were leaking badly, the slow-running water creating little puddles on the landing where the concrete had been laid poorly and not smoothed out enough. Manjoume looked between the desolate staircase and the bulging elevator doors, and then sighed.
"I don't suppose the elevator works. . .?"
"That thing?" Juudai scoffed at the notion, waiting for Manjoume on the first landing. "I think our landlady said that it hasn't worked in, like, twelve years, or something. She has a great story about how it broke, though; like, a bomb went off in there, or something. But, I mean, it's been broken since we moved in."
"You moved here? As in, on purpose?" Somehow, that suggestion seemed even more inconceivable than someone wanting to bomb these godforsaken homes. Manjoume followed behind, a disgusted sneer replacing the evident surprise on his face as he felt more than heard the popcrack of a cockroach's exoskeleton being crushed beneath his boot.
"Hey, we've got a great view from the living room, and if we had bunk beds, then—"
"Let me guess," Manjoume interrupted sarcastically as they passed the second floor entrance and an older man on his way downstairs. Ojama Yellow clambered up onto Manjoume's head from his shoulder, peering around for a moment before clapping its ugly little hands together and leaning over to shout down to the remaining Ojamas to come out and take a look. Manjoume flicked it in the head, causing the spirit to fall and clunk noiselessly down the steps behind him. Or, at least, it would have been noiseless had it not been for all of Ojama Yellow's indignant screaming. "It would be just as good as the Osiris Red dorms?"
"Ha! No way," Juudai retorted in good humor, shifting the suitcase on his back in an attempt to redistribute the weight more comfortably. Or maybe just to fidget with something, since his hands were both occupied. "It would be even better than the dorms. My mama is amazing, you know. Her cooking puts the dorm's to shame."
"Not that that's hard or anything. . ."
"Oh, man! I hope we're having fried shrimp tonight. My mama makes the best fried shrimp ever, Manjoume."
"–San da. Manjoume-san da," he corrected halfheartedly, glaring at the many different gang names and idly speculating about what had happened to the railing, since it was not there. This staircase had to have been built with a railing, right? Maybe it had been ripped up by the inhabitants of the building and burned in the winter, because they had no heat. Or perhaps two rival gangs had pulled it apart to make impromptu weapons so they could beat each other to death. Whatever the case, it was no wonder that Juudai had thought the dorms were luxurious, living in a run-down project like this for God only knew how long. "And I'm sure that your mother is an excellent cook, Juudai."
"No, no, no, Manjoume. You gotta call my mama 'Mama,'" Juudai informed him of this rule as they passed the fourth floor entrance. Manjoume had been glancing down the hall, indulging in his new hobby of fabricating stories to explain why Rintama was the way that it was. Currently, that meant he was trying to decide upon suitable chemicals that would, when applied to the brain in large doses, result in higher levels of aggression while lowering overall intelligence, especially in teenagers and young adults. If that chemical was present in the water, he reasoned, that would explain Rintama's overabundance of juvenile delinquents and other hoodlums, all of whom could be seen loitering around doors and bothering people on streets and in hallways. He raised a brow questioningly when Juudai finished talking, hoping that his dubious look would compel the other boy to explain in greater detail, which Juudai happily did. "Everybody calls my mama 'Mama.' She'll, like, I dunno, get mad if you don't."
Manjoume was struck by the terrifying possibility that Juudai might take after his mother. He shuddered at the idea, but kept climbing. Ojama Yellow had finally caught up with him, and was now clinging to his pant leg, despite Manjoume's best efforts to shake it loose. With his frustration at both the Ojama and his companion rising quickly, he snapped: "Look, Juudai. I am not calling your mother 'Mama.' I don't even call my own mother that. And what do you mean by 'everybody,' anyway?"
"Well, Kenzan—"
"Kenzan also calls you his 'big brother,'" Manjoume reminded him, accompanying the statement with a flat glare. He managed to brush Ojama Yellow off when he finally took the time to swat at the ugly little monster. The little Duel Monster sat down on the step with a loud sniffle, crying about how it felt unloved. Three dark eyes peeked around his head as Manjoume began taking the steps two at a time to get away from the ruckus. Ojamas Green and Black both loudly lamented over their fallen brother. Manjoume raised his voice, almost shouting so that he could hear himself above the squall. "When have I ever referred to you, or anyone outside of my immediate family, for that matter, as my brother?"
"Uhm. . . Fubuki, once? I think?"
"He does not count. The point is that I don't even want to be associated with you most of the time. What on Earth makes you think I'd want to be related to you?"
"I dunno," Juudai grinned over his shoulder back at Manjoume, playfully adding. "Maybe it's your secret desire."
"Are you even listening to yourself when you speak?"
"Not usually, no."
Manjoume laughed at that as they passed the seventh floor exit. Juudai began skipping steps, too, to keep from falling behind. They shared a competitive look for a brief second, and then the race was on. Manjoume burst through the exit to their floor first, with Juudai barreling in at a close second. He pushed past the black-haired boy, who caught himself from falling just in time by grabbing onto the handle of one of the doors. Juudai shouted over his shoulder:
"Last one to the door has to buy popsicles!"
"Not fair! I don't know which one is yours!" Manjoume hollered back, tearing after Juudai all the same. He was faster than Juudai, even without the extra weight that the new lead was carrying. Manjoume knew that he could run circles around the school's hero any day. He caught up with Juudai just as the boy was stopping in front of what Manjoume assumed was his front door, apartment number 863. Juudai shot him a victorious grin before unlocking the door.
"Mama! I'm home!" Juudai called out as he opened it to reveal the inside of the tiny, cluttered apartment. There were still cardboard boxes in the living room, presumably from when they had moved in. Cheap comics and old cards were spread out over the little coffee table like offerings, much in the manner that was expected from someone as single-minded as Juudai. Manjoume imagined that this was exactly the way that the main room had been left when school started last year. The boys took their shoes off by the door, Manjoume setting his aside neatly and Juudai kicking his off to lie in the middle of the path haphazardly as he ventured further inside. "Mama?"
"Welcome home! Sorry, Juudai, but I'm running a little late today. . ." a woman's voice answered from a darkened hallway to the right. She did not sound old enough to be Juudai's mother, but that might have been Manjoume's bias speaking; his own mother, while many years younger than his father, was not young by any stretch of the imagination. Of course, had he not known that Juudai was an only child he would have assumed that this was his older sister. The woman who appeared from around the corner had short brown hair and tired eyes, dark circles only partially hidden by her make-up. She was wearing a dark skirt and white blouse, holding a pair of small heels in one hand while she tried to get the last few buttons on the shirt done. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Manjoume looking awkward by the door, brows knitting together and a fleeting look of disappointment crossing her face before a polite smile took their place. "Oh, I see you brought a friend over. . ."
"Sorry for the intrusion."
"Mama, this is Manjoume. He's my awesome friend from school who helped me save the world, like, twice. Manjoume, this is Mama. She is amazingly cool, and makes good shrimp," Juudai gushed over them both proudly, wandering into the living room to drop his bags on the couch. As an afterthought, he added to the introduction. "Oh yeah, I told him he could stay over for the week. That's okay, right?"
"Juudai. . ." his mother sighed, putting a hand to her forehead in a gesture of exasperated defeat. The smile quickly turned to a frown, which was probably not uncommon, given who her child was. "Would it kill you to ask me before you start inviting people over? Just once would you consult me first?"
"You mean you didn't ask first?" Manjoume stared, mortified at the situation unfolding before him. Juudai looked down with a sheepish smile, mumbling something about not thinking that anyone would mind. Mrs. Yuki shook her head, picking up her purse from where it was resting atop a stack of months-old magazines on the hallway end table. After a brief moment of scrounging, she handed Juudai several folded bills.
"If my being here is a problem, I can—" Manjoume began after finally overcoming his shock, but was softly interrupted by Juudai's mother. She gave him a sweet, sincere little smile that crinkled the skin at the corners of her eyes.
"Not at all! I'm not about to kick you out into the cold just because my Juudai is irresponsible. You're welcome to stay for the whole week, Manjoume-kun. As for you, young man. . ." she reached out to Juudai, her hand coming to rest on the side of his head that Manjoume could not see. The yelp and fruitless flailing that followed, however, gave away her actions. She had grabbed him by the ear rather roughly – judging from her captive's reaction, at least. Manjoume hid a snicker behind one hand. "You had better be thankful that I'm working tonight. Now, I'm already late, so I'll make this quick. I won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, maybe early evening, because one of the girls called in sick. I'm working a swing-shift between a double, and I need you to buy groceries for the next few days. There's a list on the fridge, with the yen needed. Follow it exactly, and do not get anything extra. Feed yourself and Manjoume-kun, and please clean up your room and the dining room table before I get back. Don't be too loud or rowdy, because Miss Kinoshita in the room below us just got back from the hospital and needs some quiet time to recover. All right?"
"Yes, yes, okay! Just let go already!" Juudai wailed, arms flapping around uselessly as he twisted in her grip. Manjoume decided that he liked Mrs. Yuki, if only because she had remained calm and had not raised her voice or changed her tone despite the circumstances. He watched as she released her son and gave the boy a quick peck on the cheek before pulling on her heels. Manjoume quickly stepped aside and let her leave for work. Juudai rubbed at his ear sullenly, pouting at the closing door. "Well, that's my mama. She's usually nicer, though. . ."
"She's a lot younger than I was expecting," Manjoume noted after a moment, finally wading deeper into the apartment to set his own bag down on a patch of cleared floor next to the couch. "How old is she?"
"Uh. . . like, two hundred? I dunno. She's old," Juudai replied with a snort, pulling the trash can out of the cramped little kitchen and beginning to sort through the old mail on the dining room table. Manjoume shot a glare in his general direction, shooing the remaining Ojamas off of his shoulder. They dove into a nearby mound of boxes, playing in the torn-up shirts and elementary drawings that they had discovered. No doubt that they were right at home; this was not far removed from the trash heap Manjoume had found them in.
"She looks like she's Chosaku's age!"
"Yeah, well, your brothers are both freakishly old. This shouldn't be news to you."
"You're an idiot," Manjoume fumed, lost for a better comeback. Juudai just shrugged, and tossed a stack of magazines and loose paper into the trash. Silence soon followed, disturbed only by the obnoxious squawking of the two Ojamas and the thump of Juudai discarding things by the pile. Suddenly, the older boy seemed to perk up, turning and gesturing excitedly to his companion as the beginnings of some grandiose – but inherently nonsensical – plan started to form in his head.
"Hey! If your brother married my mom—"
"No, Juudai. Now stop talking."
An hour into cleaning, Manjoume jumped back from the coffee table with a startled yell. There, beneath the outdated card catalogs, was a book bound in dark human skin, pulsing veins scattered across the clasped double-cover. Manjoume knew it immediately, was intimately familiar with its past and purpose. He had been a sacrifice to that book once.
That was Amnael's book.
"What the Hell is this doing just lying out in the open?" he practically screeched the question at Juudai, who did not seem perturbed in the least. "Can't you hide it in your room at the least?"
"You're standing in my room, Manjoume," he replied with a chuckle, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter separating the living room from the kitchen. "This is a one bedroom apartment."
Manjoume's mouth worked silently for a moment, shocked that Juudai could be so nonchalant about the whole thing. Juudai had been told to keep the book safe; the book had been entrusted to him to keep hidden and out of the wrong hands. And here it was, the Emerald Tablet that had all the secrets of alchemy and immortality housed inside, sitting on a coffee table in a run-down apartment in Rintama. This was ridiculous, insane, even. This. . .
"This is not hiding it!" he shouted when he finally found his voice, grabbing the book off the table and grimacing at the texture as he shook it at Juudai accusingly. Juudai brought a finger to his lips as a sign to quiet down, pointing to the floor as if to remind Manjoume that he had a neighbor down there. Then he shrugged.
"Where do you want me to put it? With the other cultist junk I've got?"
By 'cultist junk,' Manjoume assumed that he meant the golden items they had won from the members of the Seven Stars back in their freshman year. Manjoume dropped the foul book onto the sofa, glaring sternly at his irresponsible companion.
"Don't tell me that you have those just lying out in the open, too."
"Nah, they're in a box. That one," Juudai pointed absently to one of the many cardboard moving boxes that lay to either side of the sofa. Manjoume opened it up, pushing aside binders filled with playing cards and pulling out old school uniforms to get to the bottom. Sure enough, nestled in amidst a smorgasbord of unmatched socks, lay the golden items Juudai had collected. The ring from Kagemaru, the gauntlet he had won from Tanya, the circlet given to him by Abydos, and, finally, the choker from the vampire Carmilla. It was all there.
. . . Wait a minute.
"Juudai," Manjoume began the question calmly, a hint of worry lacing his serious tone. "Where's the amulet?"
There was no response from the other side of the room. Manjoume's head snapped up, and he repeated the question. "Where is the amulet?"
"Oh, yeah. . . that."
"What do you mean, 'oh yeah, that?' This is not an 'oh yeah, that' kind of situation!" Manjoume erupted, making sharp, abrupt gestures with his hands and arms. He was breathing rapidly, eyes wide and hands twitching ever so slightly from unspent tension. Had someone broken in and taken the amulet? He did not know if that was even possible; no one had tried it, since only the keys were targeted, and the Dark Scorpions had not mentioned anything about them before. Did this mean that someone knew where the items and the book were? Would they be coming for the remaining two? Should they warn Asuka? Manjoume watched as Juudai reached up to fiddle with the collar of his jacket, a habit that – until recently, at least – Manjoume could have sworn the boy did not have.
"I'm wearing it."
"You. . . y-you're what?"
"Look, the Gravekeeper's Chief said that it would protect me in times of darkness and. . . and light. Blinding light," Juudai explained in a rush, the hand that had been fiddling with his collar now resting on his chest where Manjoume assumed the amulet was currently hanging. "So far, I've dealt with both. And besides, it's not like it does anything bad."
"Right, because being used in evil rituals to play Dark Games in order to steal people's souls couldn't possibly be considered bad."
"Look, I know that it's really a good thing because—" Manjoume cut Juudai off, dismissing the bouncing excitement with a wave of one hand.
"If this is another alien dolphin thing, I will hit you," he warned. Juudai's grin just grew, and he flopped down on the couch beside Amnael's book.
"Nah, no alien dolphins this time. Nobody told me that it was good; I know first-hand," he poked at the golden disc on the cover of the book, fingering the indentations where the eye used to be. Manjoume remembered that eye from before Amnael's loss, from before the book fell to the ground and the eye had shattered into pieces, causing him to shudder and look away in disgust. "It protected us against Carmilla's Phantom Gate, and now. . . well, now, y'see, when I take it off, I can't see any duel monsters."
"What?"
"Yeah, I know it's weird. But. . . like right now, I know where the Ojama brothers and my partner are, but as soon as I take it off?" Juudai just shook his head, tossing his arms up in a gesture of defeat. "Pfft. Sometimes, I can't even see my cards. Not even the Neospacians! Ever since I came back from. . . well, it's almost been like. . ."
"Like what?" Manjoume prompted when Juudai trailed off, curiosity growing and that heavy, sinking feeling back in his gut.
"Like the Light is still out there, and that worries me."
