AN: This story has been resurrected by the Necromancer Society


Crimson shifts from one target to the second. In the room that grows dimmer ever so slowly, the two goons stand there, staring at Tea for another moment before the older one rounds on the other and starts shouting. Their words are unimportant.

The girl is important, though. Her life deserves his attention. Crimson eyes shift again to catch a glimpse of her. Their eyes catch, and recognition and relief enter Tea's. Within the locked gaze, the spirit can see her thoughts. He will save her, she believes. The belief fades, but not due to a faltering conviction. The girl cannot keep awake enough to feel, so she falls to the side. There is no sound as she comes to a rest on the carpet; only the soundless flickering of embers that glow behind her.

The words of the targets silence. Their existence in the Puzzle Spirit's world ceases to register. There is only the girl, faintly breathing and asleep when she must not be.

The Puzzle glows. Something chips; long cracks grow on the planes of Dark Yugi's mercy until pieces fall down into the cold abyss.

The two men arguing amongst themselves fail to notice the darkening of the room. One by one, the embers die as shadows stretch out across the floor and showcase shelves. The eyes of the awakened spirit glisten like the blood on the girl's shirt.

The light half's soul door waits for the Puzzle Spirit. From the outside, a dead bolt slides into place.

Yugi is asleep still. He did not see what happened. He will never have need to.

A psychotic touch manifests in his surface features but then sinks in deep through to his bones. As the touch vanishes beneath the surface, all that is left on the dark spirit's face are hollow eyes and a mask that does not try to look human.

When the older one steps towards the girl, his eyes lack the compassion that would signal the intention to help. Behind the two, a figure pushes himself out of the chair. His rise is silent, so neither human turns around.

The darkness of Yugi has decided their Game. It may be a little unfair, but that is acceptable.

A hand reaches forward, and the older goon jerks when a small, warm hand grasps his arm.


Shibutaku jolts at the sensation of ants crawling by his elbow. He knows that there are no ants in this place, but that does not stop him from swiping at the spot while turning around. The hand that he hits is the first thing Shibutaku feels. A spike of adrenaline is the second.

As the boy's, who was supposed to be unconscious, hand falls away, Shibutaku gets a good look at his eyes. The hollowness in their depths means next to nothing to one who sees killers' eyes every day when he walks into work. Yet, that color, that crimson glint that glistens like blood, brings on a reflexive aiming of his gun.

"You're it." The words of the demon-eyed boy are out before the gun has even risen a foot. By the time Shibutaku shoots, the boy has already disappeared past the doorway. A bullet hole mocks the gang member from its place in the frame.

That kid was too fast. That kid was too fucking fast!

The sensation of ants has disappeared, but Shibutaku knows that he is going to purify his arm later.

"Kiichiro-" Shibutaku turns and feels only confusion when he sees his companion's face. Fear twists its features as the younger man stumbles back screaming. Three bullets fire, but Shibutaku only stays around to hear the first.


Kiichiro's heart pounds loud enough in his ears to muffle the sound of his gun blasting. He does not understand. He just does not understand. One minute, his senior was standing there, and the next…The next, Shibutaku's brown eyes darkened into all-encompassing black. His skin morphed into a blotched corpse grey, and his hair thinned and sloughed off with pieces of scalp.

What happened to his mouth was…It turned as black as his eyes except for needle-sharp teeth that gleamed in little lines when he spoke…spoke in that deep, ear-scathing voice,

"Kiichiro-"

Even as a ringing silence follows the gunshot's blast, Kiichiro's heart races in his ears. His gun hand trembles as he stares down at the prone form of his boss. Now, Shibutaku looks normal again, with no black or grey on him at all. There is only red leaking out of his head and back.

What…

Kiichiro stumbles back and looks around frantically.

"What? What the hell is happening?!"

"Looks like you're it."

The voice, which slides through the air as easily as a coffin into the ground, rips through Kiichiro's shock. The gun points at the red-eyed boy before Kiichiro can register his own movement. Foolishly, he does not pull the trigger.

"What, what are you talking about?" The man misses the whine of his own voice.

The boy tilts his head. In the untimely darkness of the room, those eyes blaze red as they regard Kiichiro.

"I mean that you're 'it,'" says the boy when the silence has stretched enough to make Kiichiro's trigger finger twitch. "This is a game of tag after all, so someone has to be 'it' when the last 'it' is… incapacitated."

Fear scrunches up Kiichiro's face into an ugly mess of folds. "What… Did you, did you do…" A collision of thoughts rampage in the man's eyes until he asks the one thing that actually matters. "What did you do to Shibutaku!?"

"I made him 'it' in this Shadow Game." There are no changes in pitch, no rise and fall of intonation; the boy's voice only carries an empty, flat line. " You see, ordinary tag always confuses me. A game where you run from another laughing person makes no sense. Why would you run your fastest from such a safe pursuer?" The emphasized word strikes through the air.

"So," The boy stares, those eyes glowing, that voice still flat, "I decided to simply add a bit of logic to this game by making whoever is 'it' wear their worse natures on the outside."

Numbing cold spreads through Kiichiro's chest when the boy pauses in his speech. "Worst natures? What the hell are you talking about? You're saying that was something inside of Shibutaku? No. That's not possible!"

Those crimson eyes still blaze, but somehow, even with their unnatural light, they seem darker than the nearly black room. "Shibutaku was a man who had no problem working on a daily basis for a gang that killed people and committed atrocious crimes. What did you expect to grow inside your friend's soul?"

"No!" The fear-stricken man stumbles back. "You're lying!"

It is then that the pounding of feet on stairs reaches Kiichiro's ears. The thug stands there, the demon's words swirling in his head until the pounding reaches the top of the stairs. When the pounding echoes too closely, the demon dressed as a boy smiles. It is too hollow to be a smirk, but the twist of lips is no smile. As Kiichiro watches frozen, the boy steps back further into the hallway. The dark black that obscures the wall from sight swallows up even the glow of his eyes.


Kyu sprints up the stairs. This was not supposed to be a difficult job - just some simple delivery service - but this is not the first time an "easy" job has gone wrong for him. Because of this, his expression is calm, grim but calm. Even though his heart races from the exertion, his hands hold the gun steady as the grey light that filters into the staircase glistens off of it.

The darkness of the hallway stops him in his tracks. Downstairs, the rooms were colored greys and muted shades of pigment. Here, the closest door, the one to the bedroom, is barely visible amongst the blackness that has consumed the upper floor. A chill infuses the air and clutches deep into the bones of Kyu. The tip of his gun quivers once at its place held far away from Kyu's body. The weapon is clutched as tightly as a sword that is keeping dark creatures at bay would be.

The Hirutani gang member does not take a single step forward for there is no way in hell it should be so dark, even if the curtains were closed.

"Hey, boss, you alright?" Underneath a blue-spotted bandana, Kyu's ears strain to hear a response. His left foot twitches in preparation for him to back slowly down the stairs.

"K-Kyu?" Kiichiro, the youngest, whimpers from around the doorway. A soft scuffle can be heard as he moves towards the hall.

"What the hell is going on up there?" From the bottom of the staircase, a third man squints as he stands plastered against the wall.

Kyu says nothing while he watches the impenetrable shadows ahead of him. Like most shadows of the night, they swim with movement as though something lurks just beyond reach.

"Shi-Shibutaku is dead…I-I shot him." Kiichiro's voice tears up.

"What?!" The word blurts out of Kyu's mouth of its own accord and his eyes flicker to the bedroom doorframe. A flicker of what could be red out of their corner encourages them back to the darkness.

"That kid…he did something to him,'" Kiichiro whimpers as he grabs the doorframe from the inside, but…it is not his hand that comes out of the door. The appendage, a green plant root if it was not pulsating, wraps its bloated form around the frame. A face, or something that should be a face, follows it into the open. If the appendage is a bloated, rotting plant, then the face is swollen worms left out in the rain. The main head could be one creature, but the wriggling masses that must be the eyes and mouth are made up of several-

Although his face turns ashen pale, Kyu shoots out one eye mass without screaming.


There should be rain. It should be thundering around him as he races down the street, each step jarring the concrete. Just like that day, the icy water should be draining away any feeling in his limbs, leaving nothing but numbness behind.

Today, however, though his lungs burn like they did then, he feels nothing but inconvenient bristling in his chest.

Ryo runs. The clouds are grey above him, but the sun still filters through as dim, grey light. He does not run through sloshing puddles. He does not stumble as blood and fragments of twisted metal snap at his heels, but instead refuses to look back.

A vibrant river of annoyance rears up in Ryo's mind. Instead of speaking though, the Voice merely eyes Ryo's ignored memories.

Each step is steady. Ryo does not stumble. There is probably blood ahead and twisted metal of a different kind, but Ryo races towards it. He has to move fast, or he might be too late.

"Too late for what? Have you truly forgotten how your friends handled your safety? With how much they fumbled with that, why should you care for theirs?"

Instead of responding, Ryo ignores the voice in his head. He does not have time to deal with Bakura's attempts to pull him away from his friends.

Three more distant gunshots ring out, and Ryo nearly forgets his dark half's presence entirely. Two more ensure that the questions that he had asked Joey, the concern and curiosity that Ryo had about Yugi's dark side, fade on the path behind him.

"Dammit!" Joey grits his teeth as he shoots past his place beside Ryo and races ahead. The man that they had encountered is not even a blip on their minds, for all that matters through each jarring shove off of concrete is reaching their friends. Three blocks pass by in a blur as Ryo's thoughts try to outrace his feet.

Magic and Shadow Games are powerful against the average, unaware individual, but guns are in a category of their own. Could Yugi's darkness really protect Yugi and Tea if someone started taking shots at him before he could initiate a Shadow Game? One of them could be bleeding right now, on the ground somewhere…

Ryo almost reaches Joey's speed as he runs faster.

"At least try not to get shot on this fool's errand," Bakura huffs from his relegated spot of barely a blip on Ryo's mind. "It would be inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?!" The casual disinterest of Bakura's voice causes Ryo's attention to flicker inward. "Yugi could be hurt right now and-" The thought stops as Ryo remembers that Bakura does not care about the others.

"Hmm." The annoyed sigh sounds so close that Ryo expects to feel breath pass his ear. "The Pharaoh better not be taken out so easily." A whiff of the humiliation at losing Monster World follows the thought. "Bullets are child's play to deal with for Shadow Gamers like us, so it would be an embarrassment to all of our kind if he were to be so readily put down."

"Pharaoh?" Ryo's run curves around a corner. "Why did you call him Pharaoh?"

If Bakura were in control, the body would have skidded to a halt. As it is, the darkness's thoughts lurch back. In Ryo's mind, amber eyes narrow at him and he feels pinpricks rise along the back of his neck.

Before either can react, Joey skids to a halt and shouts out. Ryo's eyes snap up from the blur of pavement to a finished house on the mostly abandoned street. An SUV sits parked in the driveway. The front car door is open, and a man leans heavily against the vehicle's side. His head, swathed in a blue-spotted bandana, leans against the tinted window. Even from this distance, Ryo can see the man heaving.

"HEY! YOU!" His voice a roar, Joey sprints forward.

The man's head jolts up. His dark eyes focus on them, but it is the site of the man's face that forces Ryo to a halt. A gash cuts across his entire cheek, and when the man turns, red seeps through the left hand clamped tightly against his right side. For a moment, the heaving man stares at them with an apprehension-haunted gaze. He tenses, as though expecting something terrible to happen, but Joey continues running and Ryo still just watches. Slowly, the man's eyes darken and the fear drains away. His right hand flashes black and rises.

Ryo feels his body throw itself to the side as Joey skids to a halt. Milliseconds later, Joey follows suit. He just manages to dodge as the gun blasts a hole in the mailbox where the blonde had just been.

Ryo's lips pull themselves into a snarl, and Ryo watches from his mind as Bakura forces full control and races to the entrance of one of the houses. Just as the pounding of sneakers signifies that Joey follows, the SUV roars to life and screeches as it pulls out of the driveway. A flicker of a glance shows it as it charges down the road towards them. Bakura has not even gotten them close to the door when it zips past them and down the street. When the SUV screeches around a corner, Ryo feels the strings of Bakura's control snap and barely catches himself as he falls against the door.

"Whoa, Ryo, did he hit you?" Joey stops in front of the gasping teen. His hand grasps Ryo's shoulder. Bright green eyes stare up at him.

"I'm…fine." Ryo manages between gasps. "Need…to get…to Yugi." The boy pushes himself off the door. At first, he stumbles, but the need to see if Yugi and Tea are alive strengthens the steps into a quick walk.

Joey's gaze darts over Ryo's retreating form. No specks of blood are spotted, and Joey, satisfied, is off and ahead of Ryo. It takes a handful of seconds for Joey to reach the house that the SUV had been by. It takes less time for Ryo to spot the pure black windows on the second floor.

"Well, someone is in a bad mood."

Ryo ignores the purr in the back of his head.

"HEY, YUGI, TEA, YOU IN THERE!" The shout is out of Joey's mouth before the blonde is fully through the door.

Ryo hesitates when one window, then another, flickers from black to the reflective grey of all the other windows on the street. Once grey has fully replaced black, Ryo jogs forward, his tension wound tight in his head.

Yugi probably is alive, but…

Tea could be hurt, and the Ring Spirit did say that Yugi's darkness was in a bad mood.

When Ryo reaches the doorway, Joey is still there. The tall adolescent stands a foot in from the door, blocking Ryo's view of the inside of the house. He does not need to see though. The coppery scent that hits his nose is enough to know what happened.

"Is it…" Ryo falters. Joey would not be still if it was Yugi or Tea, so a tremble of relief interweaves with the shaking of exhausted limbs. Worry for his friends still wraps around Ryo's thoughts, but, at least downstairs, they are not hurt.

But what about upstairs? They could be hurt or…

The shaking of exhaustion morphs to something else as other images fade in and out of the edges of his thoughts. Ryo's breath quickens while the past drags itself to the surface.

"We, we gotta keep going." Joey's voice cuts through Ryo's creeping thoughts. The determination that burns away the touch of nervousness in his friend's tone pulls Ryo fully back to the present.

"Just-just keep your eyes up, okay?" Joey does not ask Ryo whether or not he can continue because they don't have a choice; they have to.

Ryo steps past Joey and his words. A shoe sticks out from a doorway, and he passes it, eyes trained on the stairs.

Yugi could be hurt.

Green eyes do not flicker to the spots on the staircase wall, nor do hands tremble. The only vibrations felt are the ones of footsteps behind him.

The body in the bedroom door draws Ryo's eyes. They widen, but instead of gasps that accompany a maelstrom of memories, a possibility forces itself to the surface.

Tea could be hurt.

"Hey, Yugi, Tea, are you there!" Joey's voice rings out, but Ryo does not flinch from the sudden but expected sound.

The shadows of the hall flicker, and that's all the answer Ryo needs to close the distance between him and the door.

The colors are almost gone. The angle of the sun outside ensures that only slight hues remain in the darkening room. Even so, that does not stop Ryo from noticing the dark, growing splotch on Tea's shirt.

The boy forgets to breathe, but somehow frigid air still fills his lungs.