The End of One Thousand Years (YGO 5DS SI)

Chapter One: Overture To The Night Parade

Harsh lights flickered and blurred before Johan's eyes as he stirred. An indistinct, flesh-coloured shape that might've been a face appeared in the corner of his vision, before drawing away. A jumble of sounds that he couldn't parse as words filled his ears even as the tang of iron filled his nose and mouth, washing away the scent of sterility and replacing it with the metallic pungence of his lifesblood.

He let out a choking, rattling gasp as he tried to move, but terror bloomed in his stomach as his body ignored his commands. Despite the fear that had flooded his being, though, a deep, foreboding weariness washed over him.

As his eyelids fluttered shut and his consciousness began to fade, he heard the sound—no, the voice, again. This time, he could make out some of it, and identified that the speaker was male. A single phrase, spat in disgust; that was all that he managed to decipher in his state.

"Another failure."

With that, Johan Lewis knew no more.

-x-x-x-

Blue eyes flew open as Johan bolted upright, chest heaving. He cast about himself wildly, gaze sweeping around him and taking in his unfamiliar was the scent of chemical cleanliness and the dull buzz of machinery, replaced with the sharp scent of pine and the faint whisper of wind through the evergreens. He gave a slight shiver as he pushed himself to his feet; it was cold, and with the way the sun was disappearing below the treetops it was only going to get colder.

As Johan moved to brush dirt from his pants, he froze. The clothes on his body weren't his; he'd never owned any like them, in fact. Gone were his usual t-shirt and sweats, replaced by what looked to be a front-fastening traditional Japanese tunic and a pair of ballooning hakama pants, of all things. Indeed, even his sneakers had been replaced with a pair of split-toed jika-tabi shoe-socks. Thankfully, his glasses were unchanged, albeit a bit dusty. That was a small mercy, in the face of this strangeness.

He ran a hand through his hair, hissing in annoyance as a finger got caught in a stubbornly tangled part of his unruly brunet mane. The abrupt jolt of pain jolted him from his worrying, though, so he'd take what he could get. Johan pressed a hand against a tree and leaned forward, breathing deeply and clawing for his center. One by one, he grabbed each of his roiling emotions and forced them into little boxes. Panic, Uncertainty, Confusion, Fear, Loneliness, Anger—each and every one of them got their own tiny chest that was summarily chained shut and pushed to one side.

He was in an unfamiliar place, under uncertain circumstances and had few, if any, means about him. That made it all the more crucial that he focus on the things he could control right now, and that meant compartmentalizing as best he could. He had to focus, and be alert.

After what felt like an eternity, but judging from the darkening sky couldn't have been more than half an hour, Johan straightened. He cast about the clearing he stood in once more, giving it more than a cursory inspection this time around. It appeared to be natural, with little indication of the passage of people other than himself. The pines towered above him, but not so tall that they completely shaded the copse, even now as sunset approached. A fallen log here and a mossy stone there were the only breaks in the sea of grass that surrounded the pines.

In summation, there was nothing that he could use to identify where he was. He'd never been a Scout, and the last time he'd been out in nature for more than a simple hike had been during Sundance, and he'd been four.

The little box that contained Panic rattled at the edge of his awareness, and he closed his eyes to shut it—

A twig snapped somewhere behind him. Johan's breath caught in his throat as he froze in place. Slowly, as though his neck was made of glass and might shatter at any moment, he turned to look over his shoulder.

Peeking out from behind a tree was a small girl in a deep blue kimono, one gold eye visible from beneath her long, parted bangs. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was partially contained by a pair of white, bun-like hair ties, but much of it was left untamed. One of the girl's hands held a sleeve up to her mouth to obscure part of her face while the other was idly tracing patterns into the bark of the tree.

For a long moment, the two just stared at one another. Johan's gaze was filled with a mixture of uncertainty and relief; after all, a child wouldn't be in a forest unattended if there weren't more people nearby, right? Meanwhile, the little girl's one visible eye glinted with what might've been curiosity, though with her covering her mouth, he couldn't be sure.

Abruptly, though, the little girl flitted forward, faster and lighter on her feet than Johan would've anticipated. She lowered her sleeve as she did so, revealing a playful smile. "You're far from home, mister," she said, her voice like the tinkling of tiny bells and its tone far more mature than her appearance suggested. "We don't get many humans here...but I guess you're a special case, huh?"

The girl (or thing that looked like a girl) giggled into her sleeve as Johan's mind whirled with questions. Before he had a chance to voice them, though, she grabbed his hand and tugged him forward with unearthly strength. "Come on, mister! The others are waiting!"

Absently noting that her hands were far colder than they had a right to be, he managed to gasp, "O-others?"

The strange girl smiled with a warmth that equaled the frigidity of her grasp. "The rest of the Hyakki Yako, of course!"

Johan's stomach dropped. He wasn't fluent in Japanese, but he'd read enough myths to recognise the name. The question was…

What did the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons want with the likes of him?

Despite his numerous misgivings, Johan saw no path forward other than to accompany the strange girl—strange yokai? Once it became clear that he was following of his own accord, she let his hand go and merely led him through the trees, skipping and hopping over logs and rocks as she hummed a lackadaisical tune.

Caution warred with curiosity inside him as they trekked through the woods. Ultimately, though, curiosity won out; the more he knew, the better prepared he'd be, at least in theory.

"So, um, miss?" he started awkwardly.

"Oh, me?" the girl asked, breaking off her hum abruptly. "Just call me Yuki. What's your name, mister?"

"M-me?" Johan stammered. "Johan." It was only after his name left his lips that he considered the possibility that giving his name to a probable yokai might not be the wisest thing to do. Yokai and fae shared a number of similarities in myth; who knew if the capability to use one's name against them was another of those similarities.

"Yo-han, huh?" Yuki repeated, head cocked to one side. "That's a funny name, mister Yo-Yo." She giggled into her sleeve again, apparently pleased with her impromptu nickname. "Anyway, you were saying…?"

The man jerked out of his speculative haze and gave a rushed nod. "Ah, yeah. Right. So...what does the Hyakki Yako want with me?"

Yuki stopped in her tracks, then looked at him over her shoulder, her visible brow furrowed. After a long moment, she answered, her voice sad. "You haven't noticed yet, have you, mister?" Before he could answer, she turned away and spoke again, her voice halting and uncertain. "I'm...probably not the best one to talk to you about this stuff. Gramps and sis'll explain things when we get home, 'kay?"

There was something about her words that set his nerves at ease, if only a little. A certain empathy and care deeper than her apparent age would suggest. But then, things were rarely what they seemed with yokai, weren't they?

Nonetheless, Yuki appeared genuine, so Johan decided to give her the benefit of the doubt until and unless she proved herself not deserving of that trust. It was the least he could do.

The sun had finally set by the time they emerged from the forest, and he smelt their destination before he saw it. The scent of burning wood and cooking meat drifted past on the wind, the flickering light of a distant, massive bonfire only coming into view moments later. Johan's stomach grumbled as though in response to the scent of food, eliciting a giggle from Yuki.

Speaking of the yokai girl, she once again took his hand and pulled him forward, this time more insistently and with greater force. He was almost pulled off his feet by the diminutive girl, to his mild shock, but managed to keep pace with her, albeit just barely.

"Gramps!" Yuki called excitedly, "I found him and brought him back, just like I said!"

As the duo approached the bonfire at speeds bordering on supernatural, they passed between a tent and a yurt, the former being grey and unremarkable beyond being slightly larger than average, while the latter was royal purple, extravagant, and the size of a small house. To the far side of the bonfire Johan could make out another tent, as well as what appeared to be a rickshaw sitting beside a sharply descending slope.

Two men sat at the bonfire, laughing and feasting on skewers of meat that set Johan's mouth aflood with saliva. The taller of the two, an imposing bald man, clad in an amalgam of tattered robes and lacquered armor, nodded to the other, who'd turned to look at them when Yuki had called out. The giant glanced at them before rising and ambling away on bare feet, a long walking stick in one hand, a skewer in the other.

The second man, no doubt Yuki's "Gramps", jammed his own skewer in his mouth before sharply jerking it out completely bare of meat and tossing it to the side. "Yuki, you're back!" crowed the older man—and he was old, his dark hair streaked with silver and numerous lines on his face where smiles and frowns alike had once sat.

He, too was clad in robes, but these were much more well kept and ornate looking than the other man's. A gold-headed shakujou leaned against his shoulder, the rings on the head of the ornate monk's staff clinking as the older yokai rose from the log he'd been seated on. Curiously, a large conch shell hung from a cord at his left hip, black markings just barely visible inside the mouth.

It was only when the older man let out an amused huff that Johan realised he'd been staring. He babbled an apology but was waved off. "Ah, don't worry about it, my boy. I can tell you've been through an ordeal just by looking at you." He turned to regard Yuki. "Go fetch Dakki, would you dear?" The young yokai gave a nod and ran off, but not before giving Johan's hand a comforting pat.

Returning his gaze to Johan, the old yokai beckoned with one hand. "Come, sit. Yasha cooked extra, even if the big lug's too shy to give it to you himself."

Johan gingerly sat at the fire, warming his hands quietly. The older man was the one to finally break the silence, unceremoniously shoving a skewer of meat in front of the younger man's face. "Here, kid. Eat up, and we can talk." After Johan took the food, he continued, "I'm Hajun, by the way, but everyone calls me Gramps."

That name elicited a twitch from Johan, and he glanced over at the yokai. "...No relation to Mara, I hope?" he queried shakily, fiddling with the skewer nervously.

Hajun threw back his head and let out a loud belly laugh. "Oh, that's funny! No, no. No tempting Buddhas for me, thank you." He took a bite out of a new skewer before continuing. "No, I'm much too old for that kind of nonsense. Good food, good sake, and good company; that's all I need."

Johan felt his shoulders begin to relax, the yokai's good cheer setting him at ease, little by little. "Not a bad attitude to have," he admitted. "Name's Johan, by the way," he offered, before raising the skewer in his hand to his mouth and taking a bite.

Then another, and another.

Afterward, Johan couldn't have told you quite what it tasted like, but in that moment, it was the best thing he'd ever eaten. Hajun passed him another skewer when he finished the first, and that one was devoured with equal relish.

After that, the two sat there for a bit, watching the flames crackle and spit. Finally, Johan prompted, "Yuki said you'd be better able to explain to me why the Hyakki Yako want to meet with me."

Hajun gave a sad smile, muttering, "That girl…" under his breath before replying, "I suppose that's true, to a degree. Dakki and I are the de-facto leaders of this merry little band of misfits—ah, and there she is now."

She came from the purple yurt, swathed in silk and extravagance. Nine translucent fox tails followed in her wake like the mantle of royalty, and a curtain of perfectly coiffed purple hair spiked up like fox ears at her brow and then cascaded down her back. Her kimono was equally immaculate, countless layers of white, red, and cherry-blossom pink sheathing her form and only adding to the regal figure she struck.

For the second time in less than an hour, Johan found himself staring, but for very different reasons than the first. Thankfully, Hajun nudged him with an elbow to shake him from his dumbstruck stupor, though the grin on the man's face told him he'd be hearing about it later.

"Hajun," Dakki greeted with a nod, then regarded Johan with a pensive, red-eyed gaze. "So this is to be the newest member of our troupe, is it?"

What.

Hajun shook his head and gave a sigh. "You couldn't have eased the kid into it, could you, Dakki?"

The kitsune (for what else could she have been) blinked owlishly and canted her head to one side. "Whatever for? Is this not the more efficient rou—Ah." Her face lit up in realisation, and she asked, "Is this one of those topics that humans view differently than our kind, Hajun?"

Hajun sighed again. "Yes, Dakki, it is." He glanced over to Johan and clarified, "Apologies, Johan. Dakki hasn't had a human partner like I have, so she's not quite as savvy with some things."

Johan glanced back at the fox woman, who appeared contrite, bowing her head. "Indeed, young man. I apologise for my breach of courtesy."

"No, no. It's fine, it's fine," Johan hurriedly babbled. "What I'm more concerned about is what you just said; I'm supposed to join the Hyakki Yako? How? Why? I'm not a yokai!"

Hajun remained silent, though his gaze was pained. Dakki, however, gazed skyward before she spoke. "All will become clear momentarily. Once the clouds part, and the moonlight shines down…" she trailed off.

Johan followed her gaze to the night sky, which was overcast as the kitsune had said, but as he looked on, the clouds began to move away from the moon. As the moonlight shone down upon him, he felt something change in his body, a great shudder wracking his form and jerking his head down. When he looked back up, he froze. Dakki and Hajun had both stood, and their forms blurred.

Where before there was a kindly old man with silver hair, now there was a crimson-faced tengu, hair a wild straw-blond and a pair of massive hawk wings folded at his back. Where once there was a regal, vulpine woman with ghostly tails, there now stood a bipedal fox with pale fur and all-too-real tails.

Johan stiffened as he felt a familiar cold in his hand but when he turned to regard Yuki, he inhaled sharply. Gone was the small girl, and in her place was a young woman on the cusp of adulthood with snow-pale skin, equally white hair, and a short white kimono to match. Even her eyes had changed, losing their warm golden coloration to become an icy blue.

Indeed, the only thing unchanged about Yuki's appearance were the twin buns that futilely tried to keep her wild hair in check.

"Don't be afraid, Yo-Yo," she said with a small smile. "It's still us. And you're still you."

"W-what?" Johan managed, blood cold as ice.

"Here," Dakki said, her voice unchanged despite coming from the jaws of an anthropomorphic fox. Clawed fingers offered a hand mirror, and Johan accepted, trembling.

Upon seeing his reflection, he dropped it, but it remained hanging in the air rather than striking the ground.

Corpse pale skin, almost translucent in the moonlight.

Bile rose in his throat as he processed what he'd seen.

Dried blood, caked beneath his nose and at either side of his mouth.

He desperately wanted to believe it was a dream—no, a nightmare. It had to be, right?

Tattered hair, thin and dry like straw.

Right!?

Empty, black pits where his eyes should have been, twin abysses devoid of light.

Johan let out a choked sob. No, it wasn't a nightmare. He knew, deep down.

Twin abysses devoid of life.

He was dead, wasn't he?

A pair of hands gently cupped either side of his head and raised it. Eyeless pits met slit pupils.

"Do not despair, Johan," Dakki chided gently. "As I said, you are one of our troupe now. You are not alone, and you never will be again. What is more, your unique situation gives you an equally unique opportunity. Gives us an equally unique opportunity."

"What...do you mean?" Johan croaked, his unbeating heart rising with a miniscule spark of hope.

"You were, are, human," Dakki replied, still cupping his face with the gentleness of a mother. "But now, you are also a spirit. And you have partaken of our food, accepted our hospitality. That makes you one of our kind as well.

"Never before has there been an opportunity like this one," Dakki continued. "You stand in an interstice. Dead, yet aware. Human, yet yokai."

The kitsune released his face and spread her arms wide. "You have your feet in both worlds, Johan. Will you use that? Will you find out who caused your demise? Will you seek the truth of things?

"Will you stand and bear witness to the turning of an age, for good or for ill!?"

He had doubts. So many doubts. And yet…

And yet they had fed him. Taken him in, despite him being unremarkable and a total stranger.

'You are not alone, and never will be again.'

Perhaps he was being too trusting. Perhaps this was a mistake. All the same, though…

"Yes," Johan rasped through rotting vocal cords. "Yes, I will."

This was his mistake to make.

Dakki smiled, showing numerous sharp teeth, and the mirror she'd given him rose to float above her palm. "Then here and now do I bequeath unto you the greatest gift I may."

The mirror shone with rose-tinted flame, which floated over to Johan and sunk into the holes where his eyes had been. The sensation was incredibly strange, but not precisely unpleasant. He shuddered.

"I name you Yurei, the Maligned Mayakashi!" Dakki roared. "Human and yokai! Human and Duel Spirit!" The kitsune thrust a clawed finger to one side, over where the rickshaw sat above a valley. "Now go! Carry the name you have been given and the banner of the Mayakashi's Hyakki Yakkou with grace and pride, and uncover the hidden truths of this age!"

Before Johan could respond, a great rumbling came from the valley Dakki had pointed to. Out of it a black form rose...and rose…and rose even more. Ten stories high it loomed, a titan of black bone and lacquered blue armor that he distantly recognized as being the same as the tall man who'd been eating with Hajun—Yasha, had it been? A mantle of purple flames wreathed its shoulders, and crimson light gleamed in its skull's sockets.

There was only one kind of yokai that this Yasha could be, that much was clear to Johan. Gashadokuro, a massive skeleton spirit born of mass graves, be they from starvation or war.

Despite the giant's imposing size and fearsome visage, Johan felt an unusual calm. Somehow he could tell, even as a hand larger than he was came down toward him: Yasha meant him no harm. As bony fingers gently wrapped around him, he felt a sense of peace and warmth. Perhaps it was due to how similar their origins were?

Both of them were of the dead, after all...

-x-x-x-x-x-

Worlds away, in the deepest depths of the Arcadia Project's main building, a corpse opened its eyes.