Chapter Nine

"So. . . what's the big, life-threatening crisis here, Shou?" Kenzan asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he surveyed the scene in front of them. "Because I just see a bunch of guys moving into their dorm rooms."

It was true: that was all that was going on, and it did not seem ominous or spooky in the least. There were a few students going in through the single entrance with boxes, one of them pushing a cart with a TV on it. Kenzan wondered why the kid had even bothered. All the dorm lounges – with the unsurprising exception of Osiris Red – came with a TV, and judging from the fact that he and Misawa were the only two boys not wearing blue at the moment, Kenzan imagined that this dorm would do the same.

"They rebuilt the old Fourth Dorm, Kenzan," Shou put a heavy emphasis on the building's name, as if it should mean something special to the underclassman. Kenzan crossed his big arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side. A fourth dorm? That didn't make a whole lot of sense. . . Didn't Duel Academy only have three so that they could all be named after the God Cards? Shou glared up at the student in yellow as though he had read his mind. "You don't know anything, do you?"

"Hey!"

"A bunch of students disappeared from here the last time this dorm was operational," Misawa supplied the explanation readily, hands on his hips as he looked at the new fence surrounding the building. His gaze traveled up past the walkway to the windows along the building's front. "It's built in the same style as the dorm before it. Same spot, too. . . Do you think they found Amnael's lab or any of the basement passageways?"

"Augh!" Shou jumped with a yelp, flailing helplessly as he turned. "When did you get here, Misawa-kun?"

"I. . . I've been here the whole time, Shou," the other senior reminded him miserably. He sighed and gave Kenzan a helpless look, which received a shrug in response. Kenzan, in an attempt to keep the conversation away from Shou's inability to remember Misawa, quickly changed the subject back to the 'crisis' at hand.

"Well, how come you were freaking out about it, Shou-saurus?"

"Because it's a big deal!" the tiny upperclassman snapped at them in a huff before pushing his glasses further up on his nose. "What if kids start disappearing again?"

"Students go missing every year," Misawa pointed out, lowering his voice when he noticed the green berets standing guard by the corner of the building. "And it's not always because of crazy alchemic experiments."

"Yeah, sometimes it's because of cultists."

"What about bears? I saw one in the boys' bathhouse with aniki last year."

"Hello? We're on an island with an active volcano, and the forest isn't exactly the most intimidating barrier separating the school from it. . ."

"Y'know, now that I think about it, how is Duel Academy-saurus still open? I mean, a boy got stomped to death at my junior high one year, and our principal got sacked and school was canceled for two whole days," Kenzan stated very matter of factly. Shou and Misawa stared at him in utter dismay, whatever sense of severity the moment had clung to now completely lost within the tangent.

"Sometimes I forget that you're from the bad part of Rintama. . ."

"Misawa, you say that like Rintama has any good parts."

Kenzan was about to reply when a tall young man wrapped a black clad arm around his neck in a familiar and friendly manner.

"I didn't see any of your names on my roster. Are you here to check on Manjoume-kun?"

"Fubuki!" they gasped the young man's name practically in unison. Shou put a hand over his heart in a show of melodramatic surprise. Of course, it was not that shocking: Fubuki had a knack for randomly popping up without any sort of explanation. It seemed like they were always asking him why or how he had snuck up on them undetected. Shou really did not need to ask what was going on – especially since he had been the one to warn the others of the young man's presence here – but he did anyway. Maybe he was doing it on principle.

"Do you know why they rebuilt the dorm? What are you doing here, and what do you mean about Manjoume?"

"Why, I'm supervising my dorm, of course!" Fubuki released Kenzan with a laugh and grinned at the younger boys. They stared him, slack-jawed in disbelief, before finally managing to reply with an astonishingly articulate:

"Huh?"

"Didn't you go to the assembly this morning? I'm the new Dorm Head."

"What?" Shou shrieked, his hands going to his face in horror. Misawa took a step back. Kenzan just scratched his head in confusion. This didn't make a lot of sense either. Surely Fubuki wasn't old enough to be a faculty member; after all, Principal Sameshima and Professor Chronos were ancient! Kenzan was fairly certain that a person had to be at least fifty to teach on the island, or something. Professor Satou and that nurse-lady didn't count, though. He looked over the young man suspiciously.

"I thought that you just finished retaking your senior year-don."

"No, I was completing the term as a student teacher," Fubuki corrected cheerfully, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his black pants. "And now I'm in charge of the Fourth Dorm and I'm teaching chemistry."

"You're a teacher?" Shou looked faint. Kenzan put a steadying hand on his tiny shoulder.

"That's right, and you two," Fubuki pointed at Shou and Kenzan. "Have to take my class this semester in order to graduate on time. But don't worry: we'll have tons of fun! It'll be wonderful! We'll get to see each other every day, because you'll be making up two entire years of chemistry in the course of a semester, and we'll get to bond over great experiments and watch things explode and catch on fire, and—" The boys groaned at the return of Fubuki's customary enthusiasm, which was rewarded by a laugh from the young man in black. He wagged a finger at his students playfully, his mouth turned down in a comical frown that left his eyes still dancing. "Now, now, show some respect! Chemistry is a very important subject, you know. Why, I'm sure it'll come in handy at some point this year!"

"Tenjoin-sensei, we need you inside," it was said softly from behind their new teacher, and they turned to finally notice the two Morality Committee members that were flanking him. Fubuki nodded and tried to wave them off idly with one hand. The green berets raised their weapons ever so slightly. There was the briefest hesitation, as if Fubuki was only just now realizing the threat of force, before he smiled broadly to his students and gave them a thumbs up.

"Looks like I'm needed elsewhere. The duties of a popular idol and star such as myself never seem to end! But it's fun being busy: reminds me of a stage production just before opening night. . . Good luck, boys. I'll see you in class," and he winked, blew a kiss – which was rather unsettling, Kenzan thought – and spun on his heel to cheerfully bound off with the two green berets at his side. The Committee members seemed infinitely less enthused about the whole ordeal than their charge, but that was only to be expected. It would have been difficult for anyone to be as excited as Fubuki, regardless of the reason.

Misawa stared after the retreating figures as they entered the new dorm. From the back, the jacket looked a lot like a derivative of the blue senior uniform, done in black with a dark blue trim. There was a quiet lull between them as they watched the door fall shut behind their new teacher and his escort. Misawa broke it first, his comment aimed at no one in particular: "I wonder why they decided on black for the Fourth Dorm uniforms. . ."

"Well, I know that I've had enough white to last me at least the rest of my life," Kenzan commented dryly, stretching his arms up above his head and turning to leave. "But I guess there's no real crisis after all. Might as well check out the Ra cafeteria—"

"Are you serious?" Shou flailed for a moment before bringing his small hands up to clutch at his head, short fingers digging into his hair. "Didn't you hear a word he said? He's a teacher, and they rebuilt the Dorm of Doom where tons of students disappeared forever and were never seen or heard from again, and now new students are being used to fill the rooms and act as evil cultist fodder and Fubuki's in charge of it all. Don't you get it? Everyone's gonna die and the bodies are never gonna be found because there are no bodies left because they did weird things to them and melted them down and—!"

"Shou-don, please breathe."

"—And I'm not a goddamn dinosaur, Kenzan!" the tiny upperclassman screeched, whirling on the bigger boy with raised fists. Misawa just sighed and rolled his eyes. This was going to be a very long year.

Her pictures had all been framed or pinned up to use as decorations, her jewelry untangled and hung from necklace trees and earring organizers. All her shoes had been put away on their shelves in her closet; her skirts and shirts and the two pairs of jeans that she owned were all folded neatly in their drawers. The desk had been tidied, her bed had been made. Asuka crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the one thing that did not belong here. It stood out and could not be systematically arranged amongst the knickknacks and trinkets found in a normal girl's college dorm room.

It was two in the morning, and she had already broken down and taken out all her cardboard moving boxes, so now it sat on her closed laptop, eyeless sockets blankly facing her. Mitsuo's coin had been tucked away in her music box along with the red scarf and her key. Only Titan's hideous mask remained to be placed, though she did not remember packing it. Slowly, cautiously like she was taking a rabid animal in hand, Asuka lifted the mask and held it up for inspection.

The inside of the mask, the cold metal that would have been pressed against her skin if only she would put it on, was razor-sharp with vicious edges promising to cut deep into any face that dared to wear it. She flinched when her finger slipped over one of those ridges and blood seeped out onto the metal. Asuka placed the mask a few inches in front of her face, holding it delicately by the edges as she turned to the mirror above her dresser as if to idly consider her reflection. She wondered what she would look like if she wore it.

There were a lot of masks in Asuka's life lately. Cold masks, smiling masks, compassionate masks; masks with teeth and biting words when she tried to visit an old friend. She had seen herself in different masks, playing out contradictory roles as she cried over coffee or sneered at false sympathy. What would it be like to wear this mask? Would this mask hide her away from the world, save her from her troubles? Was there really power hidden deep within it, or was it all in the wearer?

Wizened old hands turned over the first card, cloudy eyes scanning the picture and something less tangible. Asuka fidgeted where she sat across from the small gypsy woman. She was anxious, curious, afraid to know what they would see in the Tarot. The old woman spoke slowly, explaining each card's meaning and position. The Wheel of Fortune was at the apex of the reading. It was in reverse, representing a struggle with fate and a refusal to accept the current status quo. Uncertainty. Asuka was at the mercy of the Wheel.

Her hands brought the mask closer, trying to peer through the slits to gauge any change. She did not feel any different with it there like that, did not seem stronger or more distant and apathetic in the mirror. From the neck down, all she could see was Asuka: a relatively normal freshman girl with a weird high school history. It was two in the morning, and she was wearing the pale blue pajamas with the little girly ruffles and frills that her mother had bought her. It seemed odd that her thoughts would drift back to the fortune teller and the strange reading she had gotten before leaving for college. Those words had haunted her, had followed her out of Domino and back into Tokyo, then across the continents and time zones as she left Japan. It made her ache for Malachi, for the reassuring words of John and Isaiah, for the familiar sermons she knew she would never hear again.

The next card in the spread was the Nine of Swords, upright. The Devil had damned her to a wander through a nightmare, desperate and alone. She had lost something of grave importance. There was no way out of this Hell.

Asuka ran her thumbs downward along the spikes that would press against her cheeks like fangs, if only she would let them. In the mirror, she could not see herself. There was only the silver mask, stylized golden eye affixed to the metal just between the eye holes. When Titan had worn it, his eyes had been covered by a glossy white material, though no such material existed on or inside the mask itself. She had always wondered where that had gone when the shadows had swarmed over him, devouring both body and soul.

The King of Swords described the Fool who would spring her from the nightmare garden. It symbolized the power to make objective decisions; it was intelligence and eloquence. But the Fool itself had turned up in reverse. He was stupid, immature, and he lacked a sense of responsibility. His spontaneous intrusion had cast her out from the garden and into yet another prison.

Her eyes were bright in the mask's reflection, glossy and empty like the strange metal it was made from. That tiny glimpse of herself was all she had within the confines of Titan's mask. It was as if she would disappear entirely without that window out, that gateway in through dark eyes. She shifted her grip so that she held it close to her with one hand, leaning forward and placing the other on the slick surface of the glass. The cut on her hand left a smudge of red instead of a fingerprint.

The Five of Pentacles was next, followed by the Eight of Swords. They heralded a crisis, fear, deprivation and insecurity. Her feelings would be repressed, her ability to move restricted. She was caged, held captive. Her prison would control her voice and silence her mind –

A white film descended over the previously empty eye sockets of the mask, and Asuka was momentarily blinded. It was then that she realized how close the metal was to her face. She could feel the blades on her skin, and only the barest fraction of added pressure would cause them to break through. With a start, she half turned and flung the mask from her, trembling as she watched it hit the wall and bounce harmlessly to the floor. It stared up at her, the white film gone just as suddenly as it had appeared.

– behind a mask.

Her breath came to her in ragged gasps, her heart pounding loudly in her ears and throat. What had gotten into her? Asuka brought her hands up to touch her face in a panic, quickly checking for injuries. She had another small cut high on her cheekbone, just below her left eye, and she winced when her clumsy fingers grazed over it. Her legs felt weak, her insides cold. She lowered herself to a sitting position on the floor as she tried to compose herself and gather her thoughts.

What the Hell had come over her? Why had she done that? Asuka inhaled deeply through her nose, held it for a second, then exhaled slowly, and repeated. She needed to calm down. Her eyes darted over to the where the mask lay, innocuous, untarnished. Clean and – dare she even think it? – innocent. Asuka pressed a clammy hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. Dear God. . . she must be going crazy, or paranoid, or something. There was nothing there, nothing to be afraid of, and certainly no reason for this overwhelming feeling of panic to have taken up residence in her chest. This wasn't Duel Academy; things like that – things that could not be explained without gods or demons or strange monsters that would come for her out of shadows – did not happen here. She was back in the real world. She was safe from all that now.

Asuka's cell phone rang.

It was waiting.

Perhaps it would have been more frightening and diabolical if it had been waiting just after midnight, in a night that was neither bright nor dark but stuck in that halfway point of dim illumination from a nondescript sky and quarter moon. No, it would have been better if it was a full moon, it decided, because everyone knew that those always heralded something evil and malicious. It would have melted in and out of the shadows, would have crawled through the night to its target on the other side of the island. But it was not just after midnight, the sky was not dark, and there was no moon at all. It was three in the afternoon, with a sun that had just completed its ascent. Not spooky at all.

Still, it waited.

A thin trail of smoke curled up from the volcano to mix with a few low-hanging clouds that circled its summit. The forest hummed with life at the edge of the clearing just before the ruins on the western side of the island. Small rodents scurried into burrows at the sound of wing beats. A bird cawed from deeper into the wilderness, and its call was answered by the rustling movement of the treetops. The forest paid no special attention to the creature crouched low in the underbrush. It hunched up powerfully muscled shoulders, belly brushing the ground with each shallow inhalation. Moving during the day would give away its position; it was not camouflaged, and its naturally pale coloration would surely attract unwanted curiosity.

It hated waiting. Waiting was boring and tedious and not at all interesting. Fools and cowards had to wait. Warriors who could not use intelligent strategy and tactics had to wait. It was none of those things, and so it should not have had to wait, it reasoned. A low growl escaped it, rumbled up from deep within its broad chest and ground out between clenched teeth. It knew that its target could not escape the island, but there was so much daylight left. . .

The creature longed for days past, for bright mornings when the length of shadows had no bearing on its travel. But it was tired from the long journey here, from the tense waiting as it watched the passage of the sun. It needed to hide out until darkness had descended, until the light was all but snuffed out and the only source of illumination came from the cloud-coated moon or perhaps the eerie red glow of the volcano's fire. That would be nice, it thought. When the world burned and they all bled out, it would be well worth the wait.

And so it stayed where it was, bright eyes raised to the sky.