I really am sorry about the long wait on the updates. I just kind of get… lazy, I suppose the term would be. Even though I've just finished writing Chapter 10. Over the Winter Holidays, I'll get everything all caught up and write some new chapters.
Man, this is a really weird chapter. But is pinnacle to the story (or at least that's my reasoning for it, though that's what I say for every chapter). Most of the weird stuff, well, they're hints to the mysteries, I guess I could say. Like their strange responses to the apartment complex and the large amount of mail. Oh, and I even did an allusion (it's in the chapter title). Anyone who guesses where it comes from gets a cyber cookie!
I almost forget! This chapter's big not only to the story but to my word count! 100,000 words, here I come! (196 words -- kept my vow!).
Battle of the Masters: Ancient Shadows
Chapter Seven: Cement Coffin
"Hey, Shadra!" Kiana called, running up behind her in their floor's corridor.
Shadra, barely acknowledging her, kept walking in her black kimono. The final burial had been that day, a week and two days since her mother had died. Shadra had been the only one there, besides the Buddhist priest.
"Guess what Chiaka-san announced today?" Kiana asked. Shadra had skipped class for the funeral. Other students hadn't been allowed, even if they had wanted to -- which Shadra doubted, since Final Exams were coming up quickly. "It'll be worth it, I promise."
"I don't know," Shadra said.
"Well come on then," Kiana said, dragging Shadra up a number of stairs. She had lost count after six sets.
Shadra gritted her teeth. Wearing the wooden sandals had been getting painful, but she had dealt with it. But running up god knows how many flights of stairs! Her feet were going to have major blisters.
Finally, it was over and they had climbed as high as they could go. Shadra noticed there weren't any dorm rooms, like the rest of the school wing.
"It used to be for storage," Kiana explained. "But Chiaka-san decided to renovate part of it for us students."
She opened the door nearest the stairwell, and stepped in, motioning Shadra to do the same. She complied, realising the sooner she looked at this surprise, the sooner she'd get to go to bed. It was nearly eleven o'clock.
"It's a room," Shadra said, her voice deadpan.
"Now really," Kiana said, exasperated. "Look."
The room was fairly large. In the middle a few couches stood proudly, with Jake, Kido and Yarou watching late night anime on a big screen TV. A couple of pinball machines sat in another corner, with Menoda playing furiously. Ryou was there too, sitting at one of the round tables lining the wall drinking a can of iced green tea. The two girls were beside a rally of vending machines of varying kinds: sodas, chips, chocolate bars… toothpaste? Huh. Everything a growing teenager needed.
"Chiaka-san was going to unveil it after exams, but since Michiko's disappearance…" Kiana trailed off, uneasy.
Shadra only half listened, for she had discovered the window lined opposite wall. A long balcony stretched along the side of the building, something that she had never noticed before. She opened the sliding door and walked outside, the tails of her obi floating behind her.
"What a nice view," Shadra said, looking around. They were higher than any other building neighbouring them. "But…"
"But what?" Kiana asked.
"That building," Shadra said, motioning with her hand. "It's blocking the moon."
Kiana tilted her head to the side as she looked at it. "Hey yeah, you're right."
"It's an eyesore," Yarou said, as the boys filtered onto the balcony behind the two girls.
"Horrible," Jake said. "Monstrosity."
"It ruins such a perfect view," Kido commented.
"They should tear it down," Bakura added, his voice and demeanour colder than usual.
"Jeez, you guys. Dark much? It's called progress," Menoda said, sneaking in front of the girls. "Besides, if you tear it down, where will the people who live there go?"
Shadra shrugged. "I guess."
"And now breaking news with Tachioda Menichi," the TV said from inside the lounge.
They turned their attention back to the large screen.
"What? They're interrupting Inu-Yasha?" Kido whined. He flopped over the couch. Shadra shook her head.
"Change the channel," Menoda suggested. More darkness piled on to this oh-so-lively group? No way.
Jake reached for the remote.
"Police have just discovered the body of Asioka Michiko, student of Tokujin Boarding School."
"Wait!" Kiana shouted, startling Jake so much he dropped the remote control onto the carpeted floor.
"The girl who had been reported missing over a week ago."
It switched from the shot of the reporter to a shot of policemen removing horribly mangled body from a riverbed. Shadra gasped. She remembered those wounds, her death. She had dreamed them. She had dreamed that she had done it… Oh no… Oh God no… she was the murderer!
"Shadra, are you okay?" Ryou asked.
She nodded her head, not daring to speak. She exited through the door.
The newsman continued, "The murder has been linked to the death of forty-two year old Juinatum Alore, a pilot delivering cargo from Egypt."
Shadra walked along the deserted streets, her eyes downcast. The clacking of her wooden sandals against cement was the only thing that could be heard. With Tokyo's recent murder wave, no one wanted to be outside at night.
Well, almost no one. She heard a shriek of laughter, which she ignored. But as she walked down the street, the laughter and happy voices came nearer.
"Oh Deek," a high pitched girl shrilled. If Shadra had looked up, she would've seen a gorgeous blonde in skimpy red clothes.
"Come on, what do you want, baby? The whole city's ours, just name anything," a male voice said.
"Everyone's afraid of us, the Powder Smurf Gang," another boy said.
"Mmmmm…" the girl said, her index finger to her lip. "I want her," she said, pointing to the girl in the black kimono.
"Her? Kare, I had no idea," Deek said, swinging the girl into his arms.
Kare just smiled.
"Fine by me," Deek said, then motioned the two other boys.
They nodded and complied, grabbing the black-haired girl by the arms. She looked calmly at the two, then at Deek and Kare, like she hadn't even noticed them there.
Deek thought that this kimono girl might've put up a fight, but she didn't even tremble in fright. She looked at the two of him and his girlfriend, as if they didn't matter. Like sure, maybe they wanted to rape her bloody, but she could stop them -- easy. It infuriated Deek. Not even good enough for her to try and fight.
"Listen here, girl," he growled, pulling out his switchblade. "I'm the leader of the Powder Smurfs, the most bad ass gang in all of Tokyo. So you might want to start trembling, because when I'm—"
"Deek," Kare whined.
"We're," he corrected, "through with you…"
"Can't even come up with the rest, can you," a voice said from behind. Deek wheeled around. A redhead guy in black leaned against a building, puffing away at his cigarette.
"Who the hell are you?" Deek demanded.
"I suggest you let go of my girl," the redhead said, ignoring Deek's question.
"Your girl? I don't see your name on her," he smirked, before turning to his gang. "Do you?"
The guy on her left smirked, and looked up and down her neck. "Nope."
The other one got the idea and decided to play along. His hand stretched out to pull the neck of the kimono down. "Maybe it's—"
The lackey never got to finish as his turned into flames. He shrieked, pulling away and trying to put out the fire but it was too late. He fell into ashes. The redhead had thrown his cigarette butt at the guy, and he had gone up in flames!
But that wasn't all. The other lackey, before he could even gasp, felt the warm flames licking at his clothes. He cried out, letting go of the girl too.
In the middle, the black kimono girl just stood there looking calmly at them. Her eyes never flickered, even when the ashes of the former bodies blew into her face, caught by some imaginary wind.
The redhead took out another cigarette, and lit it without a lighter.
Deek freaked. Grabbing his girlfriend by the wrist, he got the hell out of there.
"Idiot gangs," Tala said. He grabbed Shadra and put his arms around her waist, careful not to touch her with the cigarette. She didn't protest, but she didn't look at him either. She was once again looking down.
"Why didn't you use your Magick?" Tala asked. She didn't answer. He looked down and realised she wasn't wearing her key. "You need to carry your key. There's predators out here." He smirked. "Like me."
Shadra looked up at him, into his eyes. They were… They weren't like they were, when she had told him that she'd never betray her team. They weren't like they were when she had been dancing with her friends. They weren't even like they were when she killed, black and cold. They were just… empty. Like her depression was too great to even care.
Tala manoeuvred to her side, still holding her with one arm, and led her down the street.
Shadra's mind started to awaken, but she refused to open her eyes. Instead, she stretched her limbs out, her lips moving numbly. Something was odd… She moved her left leg further out, but it didn't hit the wall. Her eyebrows furrowed. That wasn't right.
She reluctantly opened one eye, and last night came rushing back to her. She was in Tala's room. Did she…
She opened her other eye and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her neck muscles ached in protest. She scanned the floor. Her kimono and obi were gone. No wait, they were folded neatly on a chair, with the ribbon she had used to tie up her hair on top. Her sandals and under garments were also there.
She did.
She fell back and immediately regretted it. Her neck and shoulders protested sending sharp little needles to her senses. For several moments, her mind was frozen. She felt empty again, like when she had left Tokujin. Tala had cured her of that. Wait, where was Tala?
She slipped out of bed and pulled on her black kimono. She frowned as she noticed the wrinkles. Apparently it had been on the floor all night. She didn't bother with the obi, since for some reason it was now two pieces.
She crept out of the bedroom. Why she crept, she didn't know. His apartment was pretty big, she thought, which surprised her. Somehow she always thought he lived in a, well, a dump.
As she drew to closer to the end of the hall, where she could see the dining room and living room, she heard someone humming and a sizzling. As quiet as she could, she peaked her head around the corner.
Tala was standing before the oven, shirtless. It looked like he didn't care about the splattering of boiling grease against his bare skin. A long gash, several in fact that made it look like a mountain lion got at him, stretched from his shoulder to waist. Wow, she had never noticed how interesting tea towels were…
He moved the food in the frying pan around. From the smell, she guessed it would be bacon. And Tala was humming. If only Tyson and the others could see him now.
"Morning," Tala said, not even bothering to look around.
She shook her head. Her approach may have been soundless, but the snickering hadn't been. "Morning," she said, stepping fully into the kitchenette.
"Regrets?" Tala asked, in an off handed way, like he couldn't care less what she felt now.
She didn't answer him, but instead asked a question. "What are you doing?"
"Making breakfast," he replied. "Some of us need to eat, you know."
Shadra frowned at the comment. Sure, she had been eating less, but that didn't mean she didn't need it.
She was about to comment when she noticed the huge stacks of letters sitting on the man's dining room table. The only place that wasn't buried was a small clearing by the chair at the head of the table, presumably because he ate there. Every single one looked unopened.
She picked up a handful. China, Russia, France, Spain, Canada. It seemed that there were post marks from every single country in the world.
"What are you doing?" Tala asked, turning around. "Don't touch those!"
"Or what?" Shadra asked, coyly. She continued looking through them, wondering what was inside. But then she giggled, as she realised what it all was.
Fan mail.
"Aww, Tala-wala," Shadra said. "You have wittle admirers."
"So what?" Tala snapped as he grabbed the envelops from Shadra's hands. He slammed them back on the table.
"Jeez, sorry," Shadra said, putting her hands up in defence. Which let her kimono billow out a little. Shadra ignored it, because, well, it was a little late for modesty.
"Hn," Tala grunted, and turned back to his frying pan.
Shadra sighed. He was just like Kai. They were both girl magnets, ignored their fans, and thought 'hn' was the greatest answer in the world. Except Tala was a bit more twisted. Unless she counted when Kai had been enveloped in Black Dranzer's power. Then they might have been close to dead even.
But what was so special about the letters? Kai never got into such a tit whenever anyone touched his fan mail. Perhaps Tala was just modest—Ku, no way. When had Tala ever been modest?
Ryou lay back down in bed. From what his clock said, he had plenty of time before school started.
/Yami? / Ryou asked.
He heard a few groggy sounds at the back of his mind. Also a, /Mrrrrr. /
/Yami? / Ryou asked again, gently prodding his other half mentally.
/Mrrr. What? / Bakura snapped.
/What was that about? /
/You woke me up, fool. /
/No, not that. About the moon, and the building blocking it. /
/What about it? / Bakura snapped.
/You just seemed kind of upset. /
/Stupid mortals, setting up their stupid high rises and ruining grr… /
/Uh, Yami? /
/What? / Bakura snapped again.
/Why does it upset you? /
Ryou heard his Yami sigh. /For years, back in Ancient Egypt, I worked under the moon. It was always there, giving me the challenge of light, or guiding me to the exit of a tomb. /
/Yami, you're not-- /
/Still fesecrating tombs? None around. / Ryou could almost feel the bitterness.
/So you want to go and steal the treasures of the dead? /
Bakura gave him a mental look. /Everything's different, Ryou. There's no sand, there's no tradition, there's no faith. Everything works by silicon and plastic… /
/Oh… I think I understand. /
Bakura liked the moon because it's the only thing he had left that was the same. Over five thousand years later, everything had changed. Cars instead of horses, computers instead of scrolls, graves instead of tombs. And meat was now served cooked, not raw.
Ryou had never really considered that technology bothered his Yami. He was rather well adjusted, considering he had once confided that the last time he had control of a body had been over five hundred years ago.
In fact, all the Yamis were well adjusted. Even Pharaoh Yami, who had been trapped in a gold box for the past five millennia. As for Yami Malik (and Malik, if one really thought about it), he'd spent most of his existence living in underground Egypt. It was kind of weird. Shouldn't they have spent a lot of time screaming and running from demons AKA cars?
/Maybe we could sneak up to the top of that apartment building to look at the moon, / Ryou offered. /If it's blocking it here, then the view from there must be twice as good. /
Bakura didn't answer. Ryou was half-afraid his Yami thought it was stupid idea, and half-afraid that he'd heard Ryou's last thought before his suggestion.
/Sure, Hikari, sure. /
Malik lounged on a bench in some unknown park. He listened to the far off laughter of winos, the frenzied stuttering of drug addicts, and the small chit-chat and rustling clothes of the homeless. He'd been sure to choose a park bench far enough away from the slugs, and he'd been quick to threaten anyone who came near.
He'd have to get his own place soon.
That might prove to be the most difficult task yet, as he had no money. He only had the clothes on his back and his Millennium Rod.
If he called Isis… No. In that he was firm. He wouldn't go running back to his sister.
After all, she was the reason he was back in Japan in the first place. It wasn't because she hadn't forgiven him. She had, and Rishid had as well. It had been like they were a family.
They had obtained a modest apartment, only two bedrooms. Rishid and Malik shared, and it worked out just fine. Rishid had been hired for a part-time job and Isis still worked for the museum. All Malik had to do was attend school, maybe help out with the housework, like any normal teenager. Better than a normal teenager, he shad his motorcycle. His Yami had still been hidden deep within his mind. Life had been great.
But one night, Malik woke up sometime before midnight. He had tried to fall back asleep, but all he accomplished was to twist his blanket all around him with his constant twisting and turning. His mouth was parched, so he decided to get some water in hopes that that was the cause of his insomnia. He had an exam the next morning; he needed to get some sleep.
He looked over at the other bed. The covers were still neat and tidy on the mattress. He sneezed. Someone must be talking about him, he thought as he rubbed his nose. He crept into the hall, because Isis might still be asleep and wouldn't appreciate being woken up.
There wasn't any need. Isis' voice floated out of the kitchen.
"… and they said they knew that Malik had been the one to break in. They're not going to charge him, but they fired me. They said it would be a breach of security if I continued to curate there."
He heard Rishid's comforting his sister. "There must be something else that you can do—"
"No! There isn't. I'm a tomb keeper, I have no other skills."
"Don't worry. We'll figure something out."
"We have no savings, and unfortunately your pay check won't support three people. We don't even have any collateral for a loan, except…"
"Master Malik's bike."
Isis didn't respond for a moment. Without a comment from Rishid, Malik assumed she was nodding. "Technically, we don't even exist. Father didn't even get us birth certificates. It was hard enough to get my last job without one. It'd be murder this time…"
So, that was it. His life wasn't perfect. They were broke.
Malik had made the decision then and there to leave. He was the reason his sister had lost her job, and he was only another mouth to feed. Isis and Rishid had both forbade him from getting an after school job, saying that school was more important. If he knew his sister, she'd still be singing that tune even if they were dead broke.
So, he had snuck out that night, leaving a note telling them to sell his motorcycle and he grabbed his Millennium Rod. For a while after that, he wandered the streets of Cairo. Isis and Rishid had tried to find him, even filed a missing person's report, but Malik had been too good of a hider.
Except that he used the Rod to get his meals. They had heard of the strange occurrences of chiefs and housewives throwing away perfectly good food for no reason, and had tracked him down. Almost.
When Isis and Rishid were breathing down his neck, he decided he needed to leave Cairo, leave Egypt. Maybe go back to Japan. He hopped on board a cargo plane bound there, and stowed away.
That was when he had heard his Yami for the first time since the Battle City finals. And Malik welcomed it. He'd never be alone.
He lazily pushed himself up into a standing position. Time to see about maybe finding an apartment.
Shadra walked back to school as slowly as she could. Who cared about finals? They meant nothing.
Tala had lent her some clothes to get back in, since she couldn't very well wear a kimono with no obi. She had giggled when he had presented her a pair of orange slacks. Despite his new fondness of black, he still wouldn't give up his goofy looking orange.
Her eyes flickered to the display window of the Sinsin Occult Shop as she walked by. She shook her head.
"I'm no hero."
Bakura fiddled with his dagger, lounging in the new common room long after night had fallen. The place was empty, except for himself. Everyone else was studying like madmen.
He never really understood this cult called school. No one really liked it, they even complained about it every chance they got, yet they still gathered every day. Well, almost every day. Only the weekends were free. This was part of the strangeness. Cults usually only gathered together on religious holidays for their little rituals. Yet… maybe everyday was a holiday for these people. Then what was winter break?
Ryou had once explained to him that he went to school to learn things. Bah, he had scoffed. He could teach Ryou more in a day than these 'teachers' could in a month! And it would be useful things, not like those square root things that Ryou insisted on muttering annoyingly so that Bakura had put up a shield around his landlord so he couldn't hear Ryou's thoughts.
His landlord had asked then what Bakura would teach him. To steal things, Bakura answered. He had got richer thieving than he would have had he done things the hard way, or what Ryou called the 'honest' way.
Bakura had felt the nervousness of his other. He grinned at the thought. Ryou had had to decide whether to outright disagree and risk his wrath, or agree and risk Bakura actually teaching him those things. To his amazement, his landlord had found another approach.
But you can do it so much better than I ever could, Ryou had said. And I wouldn't want to ruin your fun. So I'll just stick to the boring, hard way of earning money.
He kicked up his feet to rest on a nearby table. Tonight was so… so… boring. He intentionally allowed the dagger to slip and cut his arm. Nowhere near the wrist, mind you, he had to live in this body.
Crimson blood blossomed from the wound. He casually licked it off.
"Bakura?" a voice asked. The blade clattered onto the floor.
"What?" he snapped, turning around, still holding his injured arm. He smelled fear.
"Wha--what the hell are you doing?" Shadra demanded, striding up to him.
Bakura was taken aback a moment. Just a moment ago, she was full of hesitation, fear of those who hurt themselves, like all those mortal fools. Now she was demanding that he, who probably in her delusional mind was close to offing his own life, answer her with total disregard. "What does it matter to you?" he snarled, standing up. Being taller than her, he could look down at her menacingly.
But she didn't back down. "Why wouldn't it matter?" she demanded. "You can't hurt yourself!"
"Would you do it for me?"
That simple question had an interesting affect on her. She stopped, eyes wide, frozen in the tracks like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming car. Then she stuttered non-sense half words, ending with a rather loud, "No!"
She tried to calm down, her expression betraying her purpose to him. And he thought this night was boring.
"How can you think that?" she asked.
"How can I not?" he countered.
It dawned on her. She betrayed her emotions too easily for her own good, he thought.
"The sketches… in my closet, the ones you found?"
Bakura didn't reply, just merely watched her.
She laughed, leaning her forehead on her hand. "The ones that Kumino drew? The ones that I hide away so I don't have to look at them because they disturb me?"
Bakura waited a moment, before answering. In a soft voice, he asked, "If they disturb you so much, why do you still have them?"
"'Cause, well uh, 'cause he wanted me to keep them. Farewell gift and all. We've had our differences, but he's a good friend and all…"
She was babbling now.
"Just," he interrupted, in a low and dangerous voice "stay away from my—me."
"What?"
"Stay away—"
"No, what's he doing!" She pointed behind him to the large windows.
He didn't turn around right away, not until Shadra started dashing to the balcony. Then he followed, and immediately saw what she was looking at. Thankfully, he hadn't taken too long to turn, otherwise he would have missed it.
A man, on a balcony near the top, had climbed over the safety fence. He dropped swiftly out of sight. A few moments later, the sounds of sirens arose. Not that an ambulance could do anything now except clean up splattered entrails.
"Maybe this view isn't so bad…"
Marik stood in the doorframe leading to the hallway, staring absently at the once occupied balcony. Now that man could never walk it again. Malik, in his wispy spirit form, explored their new apartment.
To be continued...