A/N: I do not like writing duels.
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Chapter Eight: Beyond Mere Shadows
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The expression on the his face was odd. Something was there, hiding underneath the layer of amusement. Hermione had learned to avoid being caught alone with any Slytherin who wore the same expression. It was self-righteous, and unanswerable to any normal system of justice.
She licked dry lips. "I'd rather not."
He shrugged. "That's too bad."
Hermione reached for her non-existent robe sleeve, wanting the wand that was not there, nor tucked up in her hair. Her heartbeat jumped.
The way his not-smirk grew – it was almost as if he could hear it, beating frantically against her ribcage.
She began to shake her head, when she head a soft hum from around her arm.
"Wearing that is acknowledgment enough by the true rules." The smirk had twisted into a snarl of determination.
Her hands balled, tight enough for her to feel her short nails digging into her skin. "Stop this," she commanded, wanting her wand more than anything, ignoring his baiting.
"The games go on, girl," he crooned, "And you aren't the only one I've to play this night."
"This game stops."
He shook his head, dark amusement stealing onto his face. "No, dark games never do, until someone wins… or forfeits. You could do that too, if you wanted."
If he had said that before, before she had heard the name and felt an instinctual shiver trace its way down her back, she might have forfeited. A dark game, was this what Duel Monsters really was? But then, what was a dark game…?
"What would happen if I was to forfeit?" she asked finally.
The man regarded her for a long moment. "Your soul," he said simply.
It was strange to know that all color had drained from her face without a mirror.
"I guess I won't be forfeiting then." She tried --tried very hard-- to tell herself the man was mad, insane, and that she could go right back inside now, to the shining lights, duelists, and be safe, but somewhere, deep inside, she believed him.
The man laughed, but the humor was bitter with sharp edges. "I'm sure. "
She drew, the motions of dueling that had been comfortable and almost mind-numbing becoming razor-clear. The feel of the card protecters' corners pricking against her skin. The way the cards slide against each other. The slight heating of the duel disk against her skin, before the exhaust fan began to whirl.
Five card hand, one card draw, with only forty-eight cards in her deck. Real numbers with finite bounds meant that there were only so many combination she could draw. Nevertheless, each card was an utter blank in her mind until she saw it. She had nearly memorized every detail on each card, already knew the effects and the attacks by heart, but yet she couldn't even think of single card she had that would finish this as fast as she wanted.
Her concentration was fractured. Her mind was split between the useless of her hand, and just what had been implied. Her soul. Did he really mean that? Was he just some insane Muggle, with no magic to back that up, or was he something more? Maybe a hacker, the way her duel disk had acted up, that wasn't such an unlikely thought. After all, technology painted with the illusion of magic was a core concept of this game.
She closed her eyes, and tried to think logically, like she was going to write an essay, but found herself unable to calm.
Then, she looked across to her smirking opponent, and drew another card, beginning her turn.
She made sense of the picture first, the light too dim to make out the card's name. It would do for now. Licking her lips, and shooting a quick glance across the field, she sat the card face down in defense mode. Looking at the lone card, she then looked closer at her hand, and chose anther card to add. A specialized trap card, it would be worth nothing this early in the game, but it made her face-down monster look stronger, she thought.
"Turn end," she said softly, her hands barely steady, as she tried to put his words out of her mind.
The white hair man only lightly drew his cards. "I place Headless Knight in attack mode. "
Hermione couldn't hide her wince as he ordered the attack; the Headless Knight's attack points where higher than her first monster, and her monster did not have an effect.
But, she wasn't surprised. The monster had been a sacrifice, to shield her life points until the next turn.
Her eyes closed involuntarily as the Knight charged, but she forced them open just in time to see …. destruction. Her heart caught in her throat, beating too quickly, too hard for her to breath without choking. She could only stare blankly at her cards as the feeling ebbed away.
"Turn end."
She drew, cards almost electric in her hand. It had hurt, hurt like seeing Ron smashed by the queen, in that one game of chess; and she wasn't going to watch it happen again. She hated any sacrifice.
And luck was with her then. "I play the Lost Paladin." She wetted her lips, and ordered the attack, not quite as dramatically as she had the duel before, when she had drawn the card near the end. The Lost Paladin seemed almost misty, when compared to the Knight, it looked less real, as did the destruction of the Knight.
"All you have?" he asked it, as if unconcerned that the first loss of life points had been his.
"This turn," Hermione said, but the words sound weak as she said them. Everything felt off about this game. The man was either a wizard or a muggle with excellent acting skills (and possible derangement), but yet even then, she felt she was missing something.
He made a noise that could have been called a snort if it hadn't been quite so smug, and drew. He slapped a monster down in defense mode, and then another magic card. He ended his turn, not looking at her.
The card could be trap, but it could be a sign of weakness. It was almost the same exact play she had done earlier; a sign of weakness or a strategy.
She felt her own lips twist, into a smile, "Lost Paladin, attack!" she barked, staring resolutely at her opponent, waiting for him to flip a trap card.
He didn't.
The Lost Paladin charged, slashing its sword across the face-down card, and then the monster was revealed.
Hermione bit back a hiss. The monster was Vengeful Wraith; she knew the effects well, having rejected the card for her own deck.
It almost seemed to be looking at her, its white eyes looking everywhere and no where at the same time, and Hermione could swear she could almost hear its shackles clinking, more ominously than the ghoul at the Weasleys had ever managed.
Her opponent flicked his wrist, gesturing towards her Paladin. "Transference," he commanded, activating the card's effect.
The Lost Knight's sword spun, and then stuck at its wielder.
Hermione couldn't stop the gasp. It hurt, again. Not physically, but all the same, it hurt, like she'd failed to move her magic right, casting a spell, and got caught in the backlash.
"End turn," she gasped out, not bothering to place down another card. Her trap card was still down. If he sacrificed his monsters, she could use it, but not until then.
His eyes flicked over to her, and then to his newest card. He threw done another monster. "White Thief," he called out, as the monster appeared, a man with a white top-hat and white cloak, "Vengeful Wraith, attack!"
The monsters swarmed in tandem towards her, the Vengeful Wraith's eyes gleaming like winter moons in a clear sky, and the White Thief's cloak billowing behind him, blood-red lining clear to see. The Wraith gathered its hands, holding them close to it's chest, pulling bloody chains away from tattered cloth and tattered flesh.
An instinctive flinch shuddered through her, and she raised her arms, sheltering her face and chest, even as she tried to reason with herself that it was only game, that it wouldn't really hurt.
She failed.
She knew it would hurt, when she saw cards flash and metal glint towards her.
Pain struck her, debilitating her thoughts; she could only sway on her feet. A faintness swept into her heart, a feeling of almost determined resolution. It was almost a familiar feeling, like she would do what she had to despite the pain. But it was fleeting.
The was no reason for this to happen. There was no basilisk around the corner, no Dementors lurking, no danger to Harry that she'd taken upon herself. This was a game, a simple game, nothing more than something she was using as a mean towards an end. And already in Japan, already testing her spells, there was no reason for her to duel more.
But it hurt, hurt all the same, and for all that she berated herself and the game, she wanted to win, desperately, for reasons that she hard knew, let only could out into words.
And then she could breath again, pain disappearing as the monsters sank back to his side of the field. Her arms, for all that they felt like they had been cut with a thousand glass shards a moment before, were unscathed. Her heart was still beating, though faster normal.
Hermione's thoughts cleared.
"This is more than a game," she found herself saying, the words pouring out unbidden. "This has some behind it, something more than muggle--"
"Speak in Japanese, or don't speak at all," he interrupted. "My English is not good."
"Ah," was all she could say, her mind beginning to race. This was an advantage, and she wasn't going to let it go. If she was right (and she was so rarely wrong), than she could need every advantage she had. As much as she wanted to press, ask questions, understand, she needed to wait and win first.
"My turn," she snapped, and drew. She could still win. At 1900 life points, there was a chance, but it was slim. Very slim. If he played one more monster next turn, he would be able to wipe out her life points even if she had a monster defending.
Hermione cocked her head as thought occurred to her. Both Vengeful Wraith and White Thief had low attacks, it was only when they hit her life points it seemed so much. She ran a quick eye over the defense of the two monsters in her hand. Rushkla was enough. Decision made, she pressed down the card, not yet ready to push her luck further. The card was face down defense mode, and hopefully between it and her trap card, she'd survive another turn.
She stared at her opponent, waiting for him to take his turn without her prompting.
In the dim light, she could see his eyes narrow. Without further waiting, he drew, his fingers slipping the card into his hand, and teasing out another.
It was another monster, but this one he left face down in defense mode. A small victory Hermione thought, but it now seemed sure she would survive this turn.
"Vengeful Wraith," he commanded, "Attack, Unbroken Chain Strike!"
Hermione stared impassively, taking in all the details. Vengeful Wraith struck, its movements jerky, but almost livingly fluid, all the same. Her Rushkla explode up out of the card, blocking the chains with reed-thin, almost misty arms that seemed surreal.
Hermione noted that her oppenent flinched, as the difference between the Vengeful Wraith's attack points and the Rushkla's defense was subtracted.
This all went both ways, didn't it? All but her attacks, and she was beginning to understand why, though she tried to keep the knowledge in the furtherest corner of her mind. It was easiest that way, things weren't right yet.
He glared at her, and then placed another magic card down.
Hermione licked her lips. "My turn," she whispered. She drew quickly. It was another magic card, a power up she couldn't use yet, but it didn't change her plans.
"I sacrifice Rushkla to call forth Swan Warrior," she yelled, raising the card high above her head. She had no room to feel ridiculous, desperately calling forth every detail of feathered armor and imagining how darting the movements would be.
Hermione breathed, not quiet knowing why she suddenly needed too, and wrenched open her eyes.
The Swan Warrior stood, with the stillness of predator, sighting its prey. The glinting spear point was pointed unerringly at her opponent, and every muscle was taunt, more defined than she had thought it would be. Hermione's breath caught, as the gaze switched from Bakura to her. In a brief she saw all too human expressions on the monster, before eyes flickered back to opponent.
More than just game... The thought echoed through her mind, as her lips firmed into a not-quite frown.
Her opponent hissed a unfamiliar word, something with too many constants to be Japanese.
Curiosity broke through. "What does that mean?"
Her opponent looked at her, eyes shadowed for a long moment before looking away. "Caller of Spirit-Souls," he finally said. "Roughly. It has been a long time since I've seen a truly new one."
The way he said new made Hermione wonder. There was trapped, pent up emotion, nearly boiling over in the hidden meaning of the word, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
But what he had said was enough.
"I'm a witch," she said quietly, using the English word, wanting no confusion. As curious and interesting as the other word sounded, she knew she was a witch and best in her year at that. She was not going to let anyone try to say she was something else. Be this man muggle or magical, it was past time for her to end this. Steady thoughts calming her, she looked again to the still disquieting Swan Warrior.
In eyes that were too large, too darkly real, she saw the same conviction reflected back, with less hesitation, and more knowledge. The Swan Warrior, sharply nodded, and the grip on the spear changed.
"Swan Warrior, attack the face down monster!"
The spear cut clean through the card, and the squat lizard that appeared a second later, and dissipated in a shower of sparks. A heartbeat later, the Swan Warrior was wreathed in lightening, doubled over.
A cruel chuckle floated over. "Electric Lizard's special ability. Your monster can't attack next turn."
Hermione hissed, and slammed down the power-up card she had just drawn onto the magic field, not willing to end her turn on his terms.
He drew, and again, his eyes flickered over to her, cooly assessing. Early amusement was gone, the righteous expression had faded, and all that was left was a calculating look that was almost desperate in its intensity. "I play Change of Heart."
A fay being appeared, and with a cool, uncaring look, charged towards Swan Warrior. It didn't stop as it collided with Swan Warrior, but instead blurred.
Swan Warrior, with the face of the other being pivoted towards her.
Her breath caught, as she tried to tally life points in her mind. All it would take...
White hair flashed as he tossed his head. "Swan Warrior--"
And her opponent crumpled in on himself.
Sounds that had retreated, car horns, city birds, the constant murmur of crowded human life came in a rush of noise as the boy gasped, his face twisting into a much more human expression of pain. The shadows suddenly seemed sharper, more defined and real. The all encompassing darkness that had slowly come disappeared.
"Go," he gasped out. "Run!"
"But--" Hermione began.
"Find Yuugi-- "Another gasp, this one higher. "Just tell him."
She started towards him, as the vestiges of the duel disappeared.
"Leave!" he shouted again, beseeching her, as his hand convulsed over his chest.
A chill stole over Hermione as she turned, ran, and tore open the door into the hotel. Hard won knowledge ran through her mind. Duel Monsters was a game that was more than just game, and she had a term to put to it now.
A dark game.
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