A/N: Happy December, everyone! ^_^

Disclaimer: Disclaimed, don't own the DN cast.

Chapter 9: The Death God

Time had stopped.

It was as though an internal clock had been abruptly switched off; Matt lost all sensation in his vital organs and bones. The muted sounds of his underwater environment did nothing to ease his sudden hollow discomfort.

The goldfish that Near had pulled out of his hair earlier now hovered in front of Matt's nose, floating unanchored, yet it was as immobile as a clump of seaweed. One of its gelatinous eyes stared back at him, empty and unseeing.

Was it dead? Matt didn't think so. He had once owned a betta, and when he had overfed it by accident, it had turned on its belly before sinking to the base of the bowl. According to several websites, fish that knew they were going to die usually went to the bottom to hide. It had been Mello who finally pointed out that it was already dead, two days after the unfortunate incident.

No, the goldfish wasn't dead.

He was.

The drenched redhead burst through the surface of the fountain, opening his mouth to take a deep breath, only to realize that he couldn't. He couldn't breathe, couldn't taste the air sliding over his skin, nor could he feel the previously cold water that soaked his entire being to the core.

He couldn't feel anything at all.

The wall of flames continued to dance all around him, flirting and mocking. The white-orange light flickered before his unshielded eyes, burning as brightly as it did moments ago – except now, there was no heat emanating from the fire, no acrid smoke snaking up his nostrils. Nothing.

Heart thundering like a hundred armies, Matt paddled toward the edge of the basin, hesitating for a nanosecond before plunging his whole arm through the licking tongues.

"Matt, no!"

He withdrew his limb, which was, as he had suspected it would be, unaffected and unscathed. He whirled around to face Mello, who had also emerged from the water.

Mello impatiently pushed his sodden locks out of his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Conducting an experiment…" Matt's words died in his throat.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your f-face!" Matt spluttered.

"What?"

Matt didn't have a chance to respond. A colorless hand belonging to their fellow Wammy descendant poked through the water a few feet away, signaling for assistance.

Mello huffed loudly and swam over to help his self-proclaimed archenemy. Five undignified splashes and ten seconds later, the petite teenager was stationed between his older companions, his arms hooked around each of their necks.

"Thank you."

"You can't swim?" Mello's voice was incredulous.

"I never had a reason to learn," Near answered, unperturbed. "Now, let's get out of here, shall we? I'm assuming that since I've lost three of my five senses, we can make it through the flames alive."

Matt nodded. "There's no need to assume. I just tested it."

When the trio clambered over the basin's rim, a loud hissing noise filled the air; steam was gushing out of their pores and clothing in endless foggy streams. Matt landed on the floor with a wet but unsatisfying splat. It had only been a few minutes since his temporary death, but he was already missing the reassuring feel of having something solid under his feet.

As soon as they had completely cleared the fire, it yellowed out, shrunk and then vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but three confused geniuses, a massive golden fountain and a silent corridor lit by swarms of motionless yet airborne fireflies.

"Strange, isn't it?" Matt muttered, pinching his thigh. Again, nothing. It was as though he had been consciously anesthetized. Then, on impulse, he peeked beneath his clinging robes and makeshift bandages.

Zilch. Poof. Nada.

"Strange," Matt repeated.

As he had predicted, all traces of his recent injuries had been magically removed. Gone were the bloody grooves, gone was the oozing pus. Gone, just like...

Mello let out a bark of laughter. "This whole thing has been strange, mate."

"Well, it's gotten even stranger." Matt grabbed his partner's hand, forcing the blond to touch his left cheek. "Do you feel that?"

"Not really," Mello responded bewilderedly, continuing to prod at his newly smooth face.

Near's eyes widened as he finally spotted what Matt had noticed from the very start. "Mello, your scars are gone."

"And you," Matt cut in, pointing wildly at Near. "What's wrong with your hair?"

At first, he had thought it was just a trick of the light, but now that the flames had disappeared, Matt could see very clearly that the albino-esque youth was albino no longer. His normally white curls were now a crisp platinum blond, a shade that rivaled Halle Lidner's own.

Near inspected the pale flaxen locks with an undisguised air of curiosity. "It's been years… impossible, but unless my eyes deceive me…"

"Years since what?"

The young prodigy fixed Matt with an uncharacteristically heavy gaze. "Since I last saw my family alive."

That shut Matt up.

As a tightly-knit group, they ventured down the dark hall, careful not to walk ahead or fall behind of anyone. Hieroglyphs crawled past them on the walls, indiscernible and therefore ignored in the shadows. Soon, they came to a stop in front of a looming statue, its jackal head black, sharp and menacing. Garnet orbs the size of tennis balls winked out at them.

"Anubis," Matt whispered before either of his friends could ask.

Correct, Mail Jeevas.

The three men screamed when the sculpture instantly exploded into a thousand painted fragments and gem-encrusted shards, revealing the ebony flesh of the underworld god hidden within.

A/N: I've always thought Near's white hair was a result from a major shock he received during his childhood, since his eyes don't really match the 'lack of pigmentation' and 'vision defects' standards of albinism. Just my theory, though :P

Special thanks to the latest readers and reviewers: Eternally1Yours, Kira the Wolf, akatsukifan (I can't thank you enough :D), Kishimojin, TheCatchingLightAlchemist, coloredsparks~

Candy canes and hot chocolate for you all!