85

The Mask

"'For Heaven's sake, doctor, what ails him, to wear a face like that?'" – Robert W. Chambers, "The Mask"

Yamato dreamed. He found himself walking down a city street that was vaguely familiar. He couldn't place it in his memory, but the feeling that he had been there before, or someplace similar, stuck with him. It had to be somewhere in Tokyo. The street was crowded with pedestrians, many of them window shopping at the many stores that lined the sidewalks. Was this Shibuya? That had to be it. But how had he gotten there?

He remembered that there had been a fight, somewhere in the city, but everything that came after was a blank. Something was wrong. He had a vague sense of urgency, part of it due to his inability to remember what had happened, but also for some other reason he couldn't name. He needed to get home. Unfortunately he didn't visit Shibuya often enough to know exactly where he was. He scanned the storefronts around him, hoping to spot a familiar landmark. He paid no special attention to the people in the street with him – there were no faces that he recognized.

But as he turned his head to the farther side of the street, his eye caught something that made his heart jump. Amongst the shoppers was a face that wasn't human. It was broad and orange, and its features were only black holes in which flickered a dull red light. It couldn't have been in sight for more than a second before one of the pedestrians passed in front of it, and in their wake it was gone.

He watched the spot where the vision had been, but it didn't reappear. Belatedly he had recognized it as a jack-o'-lantern, but jack-o'-lanterns don't float like disembodied heads or vanish into thin air. After a last look around, Yamato began moving down the street, walking quickly. He had to either find someone he knew or figure out where he was, and he could do neither if he remained here.

He scanned the faces of the other pedestrians as he walked. None of them had noticed anything amiss. Had that grinning pumpkin really been hanging there, or was he seeing things? He'd been under a lot of stress recently, and he had good reason to associate jack-o'-lanterns with Shibuya…but he'd never hallucinated like that before. As the thoughts passed through his head, he was startled again by a person – or something like a person – that suddenly brushed past him, their pumpkin head turning slightly to fix him with its blank grin as it hurried by.

Yamato spun around, but every head in sight was human. He turned around and started walking again, picking up his pace. Real or not, something was happening, and it couldn't be good. He had to get off the street, and find a place where he could stop to think.

Whereas Takeru's brother had entered his dream standing in a busy street, Takeru found himself seated, and in a deep quiet. Wherever he was, it was dark. He could see no light at all. The atmosphere was near stifling – hot and still. But that wasn't what disturbed him. He was sitting in a straight-backed chair, with his arms folded uncomfortably behind him. He was prevented from standing by the ropes that bound his lower legs and midsection tightly to the chair. Turning his head about, looking for light, and beginning to breathe faster, he realized that there was also something over his head – his moist breath couldn't get far from his face.

He paused, listening. There was still no sound, but he sensed that he was not alone in the room, if it was a room. Someone – something – was there with him, and the feeling he had was one of evil. Takeru could recognize evil. He'd seen more of it in his life than anyone his age should, and he could tell that there was something very dark here with him now. But it said nothing. He thought of it watching him, taking measure, and a chill ran through him.

On the verge of panic, he started moving again, and found that he couldn't move his arms effectively. Apparently they were tied together as well. It wasn't long before he gave up. Was it getting harder to breathe because of what was covering his head, or was it the fear?

His mind was racing, trying to figure out how he had gotten here, and who was now with him, but it came up blank. He couldn't remember anything. Clenching his teeth in frustration, he quickly moved on to the next question – should he say something? The answer came almost immediately: yes. The situation couldn't get much worse, and anything was better than this heavy silence.

"Hello?" Even to himself his voice sounded muffled. "Who are you? What do you want?"

A moment passed, and he thought that they might not answer. But then he heard a slow, deliberate chuckle.

"I thought that you would recognize me by now," a deep voice said, and he did recognize it. But that was impossible. Vamdemon was dead, dead three times over, and there was no way that he could be here now. "Are you surprised?" the voice continued. "You should know that as long as there is darkness in this world, I am immortal. Haven't I proven that often enough?"

"No…" Takeru said, mostly to himself. "This isn't real. This…has to be a dream."

"Don't be so sure," his captor said, though now the voice was different. Where had he heard it before? "Does this feel like a dream? But then, you'll say, all your dreams have felt like this recently. And then we're back where we started. Is it real? Is it not? What is real? Hard to be sure these days, isn't it?"

"Vamdemon was destroyed," Takeru said, taking some courage in the possibility of escape through waking. "Forever. He can't come back again."

"Can't he?" the voice asked. "Light is easily extinguished, but darkness is eternal, and it takes many forms. Take me, for example. I can be anything! Anything I want to be."

And then, suddenly, another voice: "Don't you believe me, Takeru-kun?"

For an instant Takeru was speechless, as a mix of emotions rushed into his head.

"H-Hikari-chan?"

The unknown voice returned, cackling. "No, just me! I can use any voice, and any shape! If you could have seen me just then, you would have seen her. I could have demonstrated for you all the interesting things we might yet do to her. But I'm keeping you blind a little longer. You're a special someone's special surprise."

As the unknown person stopped talking, Takeru tried to process this new information. Did the speaker mean to say he had Hikari as well? No, that would also be a lie. This was a dream. If something had happened to Hikari or anyone else, he would remember it. Wouldn't he? He tried to recall his last waking memory, and couldn't. What was wrong with him?

"Focus, Takaishi-kun, if you can," the voice said, chuckling. "The curtain is about to rise."

Yamato passed hurriedly by the storefronts, but occasionally he noticed what strange things they were selling. A store full of masks of all kinds, a store packed with large old books… Once he passed a place whose entire inventory looked to be deadly weapons, from swords to guns. He had gaped at it for a few moments, but moved on when he noticed that the clerk was staring at him with empty, unfocused eyes. One thing it made him sure of. This was not Shibuya. It was probably a dream, and he knew that any moment now it would become a nightmare.

He wanted to wake up. Whatever this dream had in store for him, he didn't feel like facing it. He'd had enough of dreams lately. The events of the evening were beginning to come back to him, reminding him that a nightmarish but very real situation awaited him when he awoke. He didn't have time for horror movie scares while his brother and friends were in danger. That thought brought on a wave of guilt. Here he was sleeping when he should be doing something – anything – to find Takeru and the others.

Suddenly he stopped. There had been a change in the atmosphere. He noticed that the crowds and the strange shops had all vanished. He was still on a street – not the one he had been in, but one that he recognized. Turning to his left, he saw a familiar storefront. He, Takeru, and Gabumon had been there four years ago, when they interrupted Pumpmon and Gotsumon's impromptu fashion show. For the most part it was the same as it had always been, but there were a number of objects out of place.

In the center of the space was a chair with a person seated in it, and someone else standing behind it. Yamato stopped cold, unsure of what to expect. The person in the chair was actually tied to it. They looked young, but he couldn't determine their gender, much less their identity, because the head was fully covered by what looked like a jack-o'-lantern Halloween mask – one without any visible holes to allow for sight or ventilation.

The other person was a tall man, not wearing a mask, but with his features shrouded in unnaturally heavy shadow. Yamato couldn't immediately recall where he had seen him before. Then the memory of a previous dream returned to him, and he knew he was looking at whatever had masqueraded as his brother in his nightmare of the subterranean chasm.

Yamato stood still, wondering what the being on the other side of the glass would do. He knew that the shadowy man saw him. As in that other dream he could see the figure's eyes glimmering in the darkness, and they were fixed on him. The Dark Man smiled, his teeth matching the brightness of his eyes.

"Glad you could make it, Ishida-kun."

In spite of the glass between them, Yamato heard the voice with perfect clarity. Under the mask, Takeru also heard what the Dark Man said, and strained his ears. Was Yamato here?

"What do you want?" Yamato asked, "I don't have time for your games."

"Nii-san?" Takeru asked. The thought occurred to him that it might be a repeat of the trick with Hikari's voice, and that he might be doing nothing more than playing his part in some kind of demented puppet show. As it turned out, it didn't matter. He spoke the words, but no sound left his throat. He repeated his question, trying to speak louder, almost shouting, but again heard nothing. He cursed in frustration, but it was no use. He'd been rendered mute.

"You never were one to play around, were you?" the Dark Man was saying.

"You don't know me," Yamato said. "Who is that in the mask?"

"But I do know you," the Dark Man said. "I know you had to say an abrupt goodbye in Shibuya on August 2, 1999. Halloween came early that year, didn't it? Now it's come early again, and it may never leave."

Yamato said nothing, only stared at the other with hate in his eyes.

"As for who this is… don't you have a guess? You're not stupid. Didn't a few things turn up missing recently?"

"Take off the mask," Yamato said quietly.

"Why?" asked the Dark Man. "Isn't it fitting, after all these years – all the fear you've felt on his account? I think it fits him perfectly."

The Dark Man grabbed the bound figure's head, pressing against the mask. Takeru twisted and squirmed about as best he could, trying to break the suffocating hold, but failed.

"Stop that!" Yamato shouted. "Leave him alone!"

"Oh, this is nothing," the Dark Man said. "Wait until he wakes up!"

Yamato started forward. As far as his eyes and ears could detect, there was no glass in the storefront separating him from his brother and their tormenter. But when he tried to jump up to where the chair was, he smacked into some kind of barrier, and a shock from it caused him to rebound and land painfully on his back in the street.

The Dark Man leered at him, tearing the Halloween mask away with one hand and grabbing a fistful of Takeru's hair with the other. "Say goodbye, you two."

For a moment the brothers looked at each other, fear and desperation showing in their faces. Then the floor seemed to erupt beneath Takeru's chair. A cloud of black bats spilled out and upward, and he vanished in their midst. When they dispersed, Yamato saw that the chair was empty.

"Takeru!"

Yamato scrambled to his feet.

"Where is he!?"

"If you really want to know," the Dark Man answered, "All you have to do is stop fighting back!" He threw back his head and laughed, and on cue the madly fluttering bats surged forward in a wave, shattering the window and engulfing Yamato where he stood.

He woke thrashing in his bed, quickly realizing that there were no longer any bats to lash out at. Gabumon, who shared the bed with him, was also awake, and asking what was the matter. Yamato didn't answer. He drove his fist into his pillow, and then again.

"Damn it! Takeru… Hang on…"

You had to say an abrupt goodbye.

Takeru hovered in the state of uneasy rest that lies between dreaming and waking, with the Dark Man's words sliding around in his head. He saw something with his mind's eye – not really a dream, but a few scattered images. No… Memories. There was a bright explosion in the night sky. Angemon was falling, becoming Patamon. Patamon was in Takeru's arms. He had evolved again, like in the fight with Devimon. Was he…?

Takeru knew what the next image should be: Patamon speaking to him, assuring him that this time it was alright. But the image that came was very different. Patamon burst into particles and dissolved into nothingness, leaving Takeru's hands empty.

He awoke with a start, memories of what had happened rushing back – the desert, AncientSphinxmon, and that final, final attack. He was lying on a stone floor in the dark. His hands were not in front of him but behind him, the wrists encircled by cold metal. But he took no stock of his situation. Instead he was crying, calling for Patamon. But Patamon was dead.