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Chapter Four
There are many things in this life that should have always been kept secret. . . . No one should have ever discovered the mysteries that lay buried deep under the surface of the ocean. But still they did.
Even so, that doesn't change what was in the past, nor how that wicked power descended from the sky millennia ago, corrupting the world and its people. It doesn't change what those innocent-looking stones did to people . . . nor, indeed, what I did to people. . . . It doesn't change what I had to do to my own wife, when she was corrupted. . . . I had to kill her, so that she wouldn't kill others. . . . It was the only thing I could have done. She would have wanted it that way, if she had been at all aware of the treacherous beast she had become.
But then I was corrupted as well, mentally more than physically. I destroyed life after life as I captured souls for my grandiose collection. Most of those souls, ripped from their mortal shells centuries ago, can never be restored. Only those taken very recently were able to be sent back, as their bodies were still composed and comatose, yet alive. The others . . . Heaven knows what has happened to the others. . . . Have they gone on to their afterlives, at last? Are they cursed to be wandering spirits, roaming the earth endlessly? Or . . . do they choose to be always here, right beside me, haunting me because of what I caused?
The golden-eyed man paced the floor, distressed. He was certain that every now and then he would hear various voices calling his name and then telling him theirs. He was certain that he was hearing them now, in whispers. They would tell where they had lived, who their families and friends had been, what their lives had been like, and when he had taken their souls. Everytime he would turn around to see where they were, he would see nothing. He was alone in his chambers—at least, physically alone. As the days passed, he became all the more certain that he was being tormented by the spirits of those who had not been able to return to their bodies. And he did not blame them, but he did not know how to make it stop, nor how to do anything for them.
Shouldn't they have gone on to the afterlife, since their souls are free, now? Perhaps it's more important for them to stay here . . . avenging themselves on their captor. Blast, what am I to do?
The voices grew louder around him until he could no longer bear it. He clapped his hands over his ears, running to the window. "Be silent!" he screamed. "I can do nothing for any of you! Leave me peacefully and go to wherever you belong!" He flung the window open, allowing the howling wind to rip through the room. That should silence them, if anything could.
His long, turquoise tresses came loose from their clasp and whipped about in the fierce breeze, blowing into his eyes and making it difficult to see. He ignored it, continuing to yell in vain for the spirits to leave him alone. Even over the sound of the roaring gust, their voices still made themselves known. There was no escape.
Unnoticed by him was an elderly, yet still strong, man in the doorway. He watched the scene with a deep frown, his thick, gray eyebrows knitting in concern. "The spirits of the dead," he murmured. "They won't leave him alone . . . not until he has atoned for his sins against them. . . ." He leaned against his staff heavily. This was not the first time such a scene had taken place. At first he had believed his son to be delusional, driving himself into insanity because of what he had been doing for the past ten thousand years, but now he had decided that what the younger man was hearing was most likely real. It made sense.
"But . . . how can he, Grandfather?" a small voice came from nearby. He looked over at the worried, brunette child as she approached with her pet wolf. "I mean . . . he can't bring them back to life. . . . What is there that he can do?"
The old man sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know," he answered, his son's screams still loudly echoing down the corridors. "But he must do something. Otherwise, this curse will most likely never leave him."
Valon rode alongside Alister until they arrived in a more presentable, friendly neighborhood. He blinked around curiously at the houses, admittedly thinking how comfortable they looked in comparison to where he had been living in the back of the garage. He sighed to himself, idly wondering what the gang was doing now and if they were getting impatient for his return. He just hoped that Rocky would not go out looking for him at the mansion and then find him gone. The purple-haired gang leader would most likely not be pleased. And Valon had witnessed only too well how traitors were "rewarded." While he was certain that he could hold his own if he was found and a fight were to ensue, he admittedly felt a certain worry for this odd redhead's safety.
He's an idiot, for takin' up with me like this, he decided. I could turn against him any time, and if I don't, I know Rocky and the others will, if they catch up. This bloke'll probably kick the bucket somehow. For some reason the thought made him sad.
He snapped back to the present situation when he heard Alister's motorcycle stop. The redhead had parked in the driveway of a modest, but nice, house. The Australian followed suit, removing his helmet and letting the wild hair fly in all directions. Alister paid little heed to this and headed for the porch once his own helmet was off. He was slightly amused upon recalling his feelings of shock from the first time he had watched Valon's fluffy hair pop back into place. That was one of the only times Alister had been visibly startled, though it had only lasted a moment.
He knew Raphael was going to be stunned, but also disappointed, once he discovered that Valon remembered nothing. But he also knew that Raphael would never give up on their friend. He never had given up on either of them before. And Alister did not intend to, either. He had changed from the time when he felt that his heart had been destroyed and that he could never care about anyone ever again. He liked to think that Miruko was happy that he had learned to love again.
As he opened the door, Liu immediately came over to greet them. When she saw Valon, she gave a happy purr and rubbed against him repeatedly. She seemed to be saying, "You've been gone so long! Why? I missed you!" And though she greeted Alister as well, she concentrated mostly on Valon at the moment.
The brunette simply blinked at first, unsure of what to make of this display of feline affection, and then at last knelt down, briefly stroking the animal's fur. "Friendly critter," he muttered, somewhat surprised. He was not fond of animals in general, since most of the ones he had encountered had been cruel and mean, but he supposed that being on the streets did that to someone, whether that someone was human or animal. But Liu did not seem to know the meaning of cruelty.
"She remembers you," Alister answered, shutting the door behind them. "Or at least, that's what Raphael would probably say." Liu, he knew, was friendly toward anyone unless they gave her a reason not to be. It was a trait of her Ragdoll breed, but Alister had a difficult time picturing Liu not being friendly, even if she had been born into a different cat family.
"So you don't think so?" Valon retorted, straightening up.
Alister shrugged. He did not believe that cats often bonded with the people as opposed to the location, but Liu certainly seemed to defy such beliefs. She was always following Raphael around and getting underfoot. When he was at work, she would snuggle up with whoever else was at home, enjoying both Alister's and Valon's company. She would only rarely go off by herself. "Maybe," was all he would say aloud. Slowly he removed his trenchcoat, draping it on a chair.
"Where is Raphael?" Valon demanded then, watching Alister start to wander through the house. After a moment's hesitation, he trailed after him. He supposed Raphael existed and that he was not being led into some sort of a trap, but still, there were always strange possibilities such as that. Valon wanted to keep on guard. It seemed strange to him that the other man had not appeared as of yet.
"He should be here," Alister said, finishing his examination of downstairs. "Most likely he's in his room. Come on." He headed for the stairs, climbing them in a no-nonsense way. Valon again followed, casting his curious gaze all over the house as he did so. When Alister stopped in front of Raphael's door, Valon abruptly slammed into him from behind, not having been watching where he was going. Alister grunted at this, but otherwise had no reaction.
Shaking his head, the gray-eyed man reached up and knocked on the door, calling Raphael's name. Upon not getting a response, he eased the door open and looked inside. Raphael was not there. Frowning slightly, Alister turned away from the door and began wandering through the upstairs rooms, searching for any sign of the older man. His motorcycle and the car were both still in the driveway, and Alister doubted that Raphael would have gone out for a walk in the rain, so surely he had to be in the house somewhere!
"Hey," Valon said abruptly, seeming to have picked the most random subject to ask about, "why the heck do you dress like that, with the midriff shirts?" He gave a tug on the material, curiously trying to force it down farther. He had been puzzling over Alister's choice of clothing ever since he had first seen the other young man. It was uncommon to see such an attire on a male, Valon thought, but then again, this male was very uncommon as well. Valon doubted that he had ever met such a strange person before. Surely he would remember if he had. Alister was aloof and somewhat cold, but obviously determined to bring Valon back with him. He seemed to care greatly about the boy in spite of his quiet, serious personality. This, perhaps, more than anything else, was what had intrigued Valon and had made him agree to come along.
Alister paused, nearly causing the teenager to slam into him again. He turned around, slowly raising an eyebrow at him, and then continued down the hall. "I just happen to feel like it," was the only answer he gave. He checked the rest of the rooms and then wondered if Raphael was in the basement for some reason. Deciding to investigate, he headed back to the stairs.
Valon was not satisfied. "Yeah? Why?" he demanded, following the lanky redhead back to the main level and then down the basement stairs. He noticed that a light was on at the bottom.
Alister grunted. "Does it bother you?" he countered. Reaching the bottom, he looked around for any sign of the older man. Since the light was on, it seemed that he must surely be around somewhere. But why did he not simply come out? Surely he could hear them talking. Alister started to wonder if their friend was alright.
Valon blinked, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected question. "Naw, not exactly," he responded then. "It just looks kinda . . . weird, y'know?" Then he noticed that Alister was not listening. The redhead had gone across the room and was kneeling down in the shadows next to a form on the floor. Confused, Valon went over as well. "What's goin' on?"
Alister shook his head. "I don't know," he said grimly, "but this is Raphael here. He's hurt." This was an immense shock to him. He did not understand what could have happened. The blonde man was laying on his stomach, his arms flung out, and he appeared to have no visible wounds. Liu, who had gone downstairs ahead of Alister and Valon, was nudging him and rubbing against him, trying to wake him up.
After a moment the man responded, grunting as his eyes fluttered open. He tried to focus and soon discovered that he was staring at the carpet—and at Liu, as she abruptly stood in front of him and licked his face. "What happened?" he muttered, reaching out weakly to pet the feline.
"I wish you could tell us," Alister answered, relieved that Raphael was conscious.
"'Us'?" Raphael instantly responded, feeling confused. He pulled himself into a sitting position, blinking at Alister. When he saw the boy who was standing uncomfortably next to the redhead, the blonde's eyes widened in disbelief and shock. "Valon?" he cried, wondering if he was hallucinating or even still unconscious, and dreaming. The Australian looked the same, yet different. He was wearing a sleeveless white T-shirt, blue jeans, and his red boots and trusty goggles, which was all usual, but Raphael realized that it was the eyes that were different. There was no recognition in the blue orbs. Instead he saw only discomfort.
"Yeah, that's what he tells me my name is," Valon answered, jerking a thumb in Alister's direction. "Uh . . . you okay?" He could not deny how odd this all seemed to him. Alister was certain that Valon was his and Raphael's friend, but if that strangeness was not enough, Raphael had just been found senseless on the floor. Valon had to wonder again what sort of weird people he had just fallen in with.
Shock and alarm eclipsed Raphael's features. Valon did not know them? Raphael was stunned. At times he had vaguely considered such a possibility—though he had never spoken to Alister of it—but he realized now that he had actually believed it more likely that Valon would turn up dead rather than as an amnesiac. He looked to Alister for confirmation, too overwhelmed to speak at the moment.
"He doesn't remember us," the redhead explained quietly, summarizing his earlier encounter with Valon at the manor. He ended with the fact that Valon had come with him "for a visit," to look around and see if he recalled anything, but his gray eyes silently told Raphael that Valon remembered nothing as of yet.
Raphael swallowed hard. "I see," he said finally, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to look at Valon once again. "You don't remember anything?"
"No, I don't!" Valon cried, growing impatient. "I don't remember you, or him, or the cat, or this place, or that my name's Valon!" He crossed his arms, ignoring the stricken look that passed through Raphael's eyes. "I'm just a nobody in a random gang that's probably gonna be forgotten about in a year or so." He studied the older man, watching as the cat climbed up onto his lap. "But what the heck did happen to you, anyway?"
Raphael absently petted Liu, holding back the feelings of sadness and frustration that were running through his mind. How long would it take them to be able to restore Valon's memories? Would that ever even happen at all? Or would the Valon they knew be lost to them forever? He was so caught up in such thoughts that he had a hard time steering his attention back to the question Valon had asked. All he could think of was how Valon was referring to himself as a "nobody." That had pained him.
"Well?" Valon demanded, breaking into his thoughts.
"I don't know," Raphael growled finally. "I just seemed to slip and fall. The carpet must have been loose." As he continued to pet Liu, he suddenly felt the cat's body stiffen. When he looked down at her questioningly, he saw that she was staring at the wall and hissing loudly. As he followed her gaze, he realized what actually must have happened instead—there was a Shadow Ghoul in their house, and it had obviously attacked him. Now it was streaking along the wall, preparing to leap out and strike again.
Serenity swallowed hard as Joey finally pulled up in front of the Turtle Game Shop. Shakily she opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, trying to ignore the screech of the Curse of Dragon in the sky. She waited for her brother to follow, then hurriedly went up the walk and opened the front door of the building, not wanting to stay outside any longer than was necessary. The shop was still lighted up, but business seemed very slow—perhaps due both to the facts that it was getting quite late and also, that not many people wanted to venture out at night anymore, in light of what they might find.
"Hello?" she called timidly, not seeing Solomon at the counter. "Is anyone here?"
Joey walked past her, heading for the stairs. "They're probably up in the house part," he said, intending to just go on up. When he saw Serenity's dubious expression, he smiled in a reassuring way and added, "Eh, I do this all the time. Yug doesn't mind. Come on, sis." He motioned for her to follow him, and after a moment she did, though she still seemed nervous about simply barging in on someone's living quarters. It was not something she did or would even ever dream of doing. But Joey was not her, and she supposed that Yugi probably truly did not mind, since they had such a close friendship.
As they arrived in the living room, Joey nearly bumped into Yugi as he was coming through the doorway. The vertically challenged boy blinked in surprise before gazing up at his friend. "Joey!" he exclaimed, giving a genuine smile. "What are you doing here?" He did not notice Serenity at first, as she was standing behind Joey at the moment and had not spoken as of yet.
Joey grinned. "Can't a guy visit his buddy?" he answered, rubbing his nose before abruptly becoming serious. "Actually, Yug, we've got a problem. It's good to see you're okay and all. Is your grampa okay too?" He glanced about, as if expecting to see Solomon suddenly appear.
Yugi nodded. "He's okay," he confirmed. "Right now he's in the back, doing inventory. I guess that's why he didn't hear you come in. I was just going down to help him out." He looked at his friend worriedly. "But what's this problem, Joey?"
Now Serenity stepped out, looking at Yugi with upset hazel eyes. "The problem is that our mother was taken by the Duel Monsters!" she cried, clasping her hands. She quickly explained again what had happened, with Joey occasionally interjecting remarks. Yugi listened to it all, absolutely stunned and horrified.
"So," Joey finished a moment later, "we were hoping you knew how to get a hold of the good monsters and all, since the Dark Magician Girl used to drop in on you sometimes." He avoided mentioning Atemu, but he knew that he and Yugi were both thinking of him at this point.
Yugi bit his lip. "I wish I did know," he said reluctantly, feeling terrible that he could not offer more assistance. The fact was that he had no idea where the good monsters were staying. They were probably spread out all over the globe, fighting the treacherous creatures and being wounded or even destroyed. "I'll help however I can," he offered, though he knew that there was not much he could do. But he could not bear seeing Serenity's distress. It reminded him of when his grandfather had been taken by Pegasus and he had not known at first how he would ever succeed in getting his soul back.
"Thanks, pal," Joey said.
Serenity hid her disappointment that Yugi did not know how to contact the good monsters. "You're so kind, Yugi," she said softly, "but I just don't know what we're ever going to do! Why would they take her?" She clenched her fists tightly, a fresh wave of desperation passing over her.
"That's what we have to find out!" Yugi said in determination. He knew that Atemu would never give up in this situation, and he would not, either. He would never give up when his friends needed him. "I promise, we will! And then we'll save Ms. Kawai." Easier said than done, he knew. Perhaps they had taken her as a hostage, someone to use to barter lives with. He did not think they would kill her, at least not yet. But what if their reason for taking her was much darker than he and his friends could even imagine?
They were startled out of their discussion by the sharp jangling of the telephone. Frowning in confusion and concern, Yugi walked over and removed the receiver. "Muto residence," he said into it. In the split second before the reply came, he worried over who might be calling and what sort of new problem might be arising. He watched as Joey and Serenity slowly came over, worry shining in their eyes as well.
"Yugi?" The familiar, yet odd-sounding, voice crackled amongst the static on the telephone.
Yugi blinked in complete astonishment. "Marik!" he gasped, eyes widening. "What's going on? Are you calling from Egypt?" He knew that Marik and his siblings had been staying in Egypt for the past couple of months, supervising several archaeological digs in parts of the desert, and making certain that no one tried to dig in the area where the Millennium Items were buried. Right now there was so much static on the line that Yugi could not believe the blonde boy was calling from somewhere nearby. Besides, they had been scheduled to remain in Egypt for at least two more weeks.
"No," Marik answered, struggling to keep the door of the payphone booth shut against the fierce wind, "from the airport on the outskirts of town." He closed one eye tightly, frustrated at this latest disaster. It seemed that his battle with the door had already ended and that it had won. It flapped wildly. "Ishizu wanted me to call, for all the good it will do." Yugi heard a cracking sound, followed by the shattering of glass.
"Marik, what's happening there!" he exclaimed, forgetting to ask why the Ishtars were back in Domino City. "It sounds like you're being attacked!"
"Well, that's not far from the truth!" Marik yelled back. "The airport has been overrun with Duel Monsters!" He started to say something else, but there was an abrupt roar and then a click. His side of the phone had gone dead.
Ryou Bakura unlocked the door of the empty home and slowly went in, shutting the door behind him before searching for the light and turning it on. He was not afraid of the darkness of a mere room. The darkness he feared was much deeper than that.
A meow greeted him and he smiled, reaching down to pet Oreo as she scampered into the room. The short-haired feline rubbed against him, then looked about, as if trying to see if Yami Bakura was hiding behind Ryou or the furniture. Upon not finding him, she sat down, pouting, and gave a guttural meow.
Ryou sighed sadly, picking her up as he set his school books down. He had been staying late at the library, studying (as he had often done in the past months), but had finally decided that he had best go home. With the Duel Monsters invasion, nothing was safe—and he had wanted to make sure that Oreo was. "I'm sorry," he said softly, sitting wearily on the couch with the black-and-white cat in his arms. "Yami isn't here." But he knew Oreo did not understand.
He had often been the most quiet and reserved one amongst Yugi's friends, even more so after the Ceremonial Battle. Yes, his Yami had done many horrible things, but the truth was that he actually had not been fond of beating Ryou, even though many rumors had been circulated around that it was so. Occassionally the thief had helped Ryou, though he always insisted that it was only in order to further his own plans. And there had been the strange way that Oreo adored him. Neither Ryou nor his Yami had been able to explain how that had happened, but it had, and now Oreo was often moping around the house, missing the rascal.
Ryou looked up at the ceiling. In addition to that, his father was still off traveling somewhere. The boy actually did not know if he was alright, in light of what had been occurring of late. He was afraid that some of the Duel Monsters had killed him. But there was no way of knowing. He had no telephone number to contact him. "It's just the two of us, Oreo," he said then, with a weak smile.
Oreo placed her front paws on his chest, flicking her long tail.
"I know," the boy exclaimed then, getting up. "Let's get something to eat." Oreo meowed approvingly at the suggestion, and they went into the kitchen. Ryou had an extraordinary appetite, made even more incredible by the fact that he never seemed to gain weight from all the food he consumed. Now he began to search through the cupboards to see what they had left. Oreo, now sitting on his shoulder, watched with eager interest.
Ryou chuckled softly as he opened a can of cat food for her. "I guess I'll never really be alone with you around," he said in amusement, watching the feline hop down and began munching greedily on the diced beef.
This brought up a question that he had pondered over many times since the fateful Ceremonial Battle: Did he truly miss his Yami? It was not a question that was easy to answer. He did not miss the havoc that the ancient spirit had caused. Getting into one near-death experience after another because of his Yami's obsession with collecting all of the Millennium Items was not his idea of a fun time. But from various cryptic statements Yami Bakura had made at one time or another, Ryou had eventually gleaned that there was a deep, personal reason why the thief wanted the Items so badly. He had never been able to determine what that had been, however.
I think . . . somewhere underneath all of his anger and insanity . . . there was a good person, the boy mused, petting Oreo gently after setting some water to boil in order to make macaroni and cheese. But I guess . . . I'll never have the chance to find out about him now.
He rubbed his eyes, listening idly to the roar of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon that was flying over the house. On second thought, though, I may not be alive very much longer, either. He shuddered, wondering if the end of the world was near. At this point, it seemed rather possible.