He woke to the sound of a strangled, suppressed scream, interlaced with static. He bolted out of bed and looked left and right, searching for the source of the noise. Night had fallen, and Fuji couldn't see anything in the room. On a hunch, he carefully made his way to the table and listened intently to the radio. As he expected, when he moved closer, the screaming became louder. Still shaken, he reached out in the darkness to shut off the radio. Just as he reached it, he heard one distinct word reverberate in the room.
"...Guilty."
The radio turned off with a sharp click. Fuji put his hand over his heart and took a few deep breaths. With renewed strength, he decided that he had to get the radio fixed, no matter what the Radio Tower made him feel. He tucked the radio under his arm headed out.
It was a surprisingly chilly for a summer night, and the fog made it impossible to see more than a few feet. The night was as quiet as his house. There was no pokémon crying, no one talking, and no low hum from the Radio Tower.
After walking for a while, Fuji noticed something. He squinted, and made out the dark shape of the House of Memories in the distance. He had been going in the wrong direction. Now I know I'm not thinking straight, he thought. Though I might as well go inside and to see if I must replace the candles. He walked up to the door and took out his keys. But as soon as he found the right key and put it in the keyhole, the door just swung open. He went inside, afraid that he had left it unlocked all day. He saw that the candles on the altar were standing tall, but were not burning, as if a strong wind had blown them out. Worst of all, the door to the hatch beside the altar, which normally concealed the floors of the building that only he could enter, was missing. Fuji sat down and peering into the dark space in the floor. This... doesn't make any sense! Why would someone break into the House of Memories and disturb the pokémon's spirits? he wondered. There's nothing of value that any thief would want! Disgusted, but not knowing what to do, Fuji left the building, and making sure to lock the door and shut it tight on his way out. He was too afraid to do anything before dawn.
He held his head low as he walked to the Radio Tower. This was the worst day he had had since the day it was built. Before the graves had been moved en masse underground, they had been in an auspicious place. On good days, when everything was calm, Channelers would would come up to him and let him know that they felt purified, comforted, and even healed by the energy of the Pokémon Tower. Fuji knew back then that the pokémon were resting easy. Even after the disaster with Team Rocket, things went back to being peaceful again very quickly. But now, I can only imagine how terrible the souls must feel.
The glass doors of the building illuminated the fog. As he approached, his eyes hurt from the bright florescent light. He opened the door and entered. After he rubbed his eyes for a moment, he went up to the front desk. Normally, the Radio Tower was open all night, so when he saw that there was nobody sitting at the desk, he became very confused. The lights were still on, and the door was unlocked, so he assumed that the clerk was only taking a break. He sat down in the waiting area, expecting someone to appear at any moment.
Several minutes later, there was still no one to be seen. Fuji looked over to the elevator, and there was no night watchman guarding it, either. He ran back to the desk and peered behind it, looking for any notifications or for anything amiss. A woman in uniform was lying on the floor beside the desk chair, her body turned at an unnatural angle.
"Excuse me!" said Fuji. "I know you are probably tired, but I need to make an appointment."
The woman did not stir or move at all. It didn't even look like she was breathing. Fuji looked back, and after seeing nobody else, he went behind the desk himself, bent down, and gently shook the woman's shoulder. No response. Finally, he turned her head. Her unseeing, bloodshot eyes were still half-open.
Fuji drew his hand back in shock. The last time he had seen anything like it, there had been an angry Marowak's soul throwing everything out of balance. I'm not strong enough to handle this on my own, he decided. He left the body where it was and tried to leave the building. The doors were stuck and would not open no matter what he tried. When he looked through the glass, all he saw was a black veil covering the outside of the tower, as if a horde of ghosts were crowding around it. He checked—there was nothing he could use to break the glass, and even if he could, he had a gut feeling telling him it would not help. All he had on him was the flute, his keys, and his radio. Confirming his fears, he heard a Gastly's cackling coming from outside.
Unable to leave, he ran across the room to the elevator, got inside, and started going up to the top floor, the broadcasting studio. There wasn't anywhere else to go. The last time this happened, the Marowak's spirit was at the top of the tower, he thought. He had to see if anyone in the building remained conscious and could help him to purify the building. When the elevator stopped and the door slid open, Fuji's fears were realized. He stepped over the body of the night watchman to get into the studio, and there were several technicians lying on the floor beside him. The DJ was lying face-down over the studio desk, his headphones had fallen off onto the table. Everyone in the studio was in the same state as the clerk.
Fuji noticed that the computer screen was black, so no song or pre-recorded program was selected for broadcast, but he could still hear faint sounds coming from the DJ's headphones. Nervously, he put the headphones on, preparing to turn the volume down on the computer if he heard more screaming. Instead, all he heard was the same voice from before, muttering the word "guilty."
He took the headphones off. With no other way to help, he took out the Blue Flute and put it to his lips. He began to play a short but melancholy tune, a variation on what he remembered of the PokéFlute's melody. His song was abruptly interrupted by a loud smash from above. The lights flickered out, and he heard shards of glass hitting the floor and scattering. He couldn't see, and he was frozen in shock. In the darkness, he heard that noise, the same suppressed screaming that his radio was spitting out earlier. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he saw a pitch black serpentine shape descend from the ceiling, until he saw a fully-formed, bulbous pokémon with one red eye. It stopped screaming, and instead let out a guttural growling sound. It floated toward him, levitating a few feet off the floor, holding its two large hands out in front of it as it reached for him.
As soon as Fuji realized he was face-to-face with the angry Ghost-type pokémon, he felt more at ease. He was almost as well-versed as Agatha was on their behavior. "I can see that you're upset, but you shouldn't be taking your anger out on these innocent people," he said quietly. He carefully placed his own radio on the floor in front of him and turned it back on. "Why don't we talk this over? What's troubling you, my friend?" In the past, he had investigated EVP and similar phenomena, so he felt he knew what would happen. In his experience, ghosts were usually scared or lost, and rarely wanted to hurt anyone. He tried to meet the pokémon's stare by looking into its red eye.
As soon as Fuji spoke, the pokémon stopped moving and clenched its large hands into fists. Its eye seemed to compress, imitating a glare. Its deep "voice" emanated from the radio. "I am Dusknoir," it said, its words running together like one long moan. "How dare you attempt to take these sinners from me, when you are the most repugnant of all! Guilty. It is your fault!"
"I-I don't understand, Dusknoir," Fuji said, beads of sweat pouring from his brow. "Why are you so upset?"
"Do not lie to me!" it yelled, through heavier static. The sound echoed throughout the studio. "You knew the souls would be disrupted, and you did nothing! I came to this place to lead the lost souls home and to take revenge on you human filth. Normally I take higher orders, but now I all I can hear in my antenna is the pollution exuding from this tower."
"I'm... sorry," Fuji said pathetically. "I thought there was nothing I could do to stop them from building this place and moving the graves, I—"
Dusknoir ignored him. "Now, I give my own orders!" the cracking voice shouted. Dusknoir was enveloped by a deep purple shade as it melted before Fuji's eyes and sank to the floor as a giant shadow. It slithered toward Fuji, who tried to jump out of its way. He was too slow. The shadow shot through his body, leaving him freezing inside as his life force was stolen.
Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. He whirled around, and saw Dusknoir pull back its left arm. Its fist glowed an eerie violet before it thrust it straight through Fuji's stomach. There was no blood, and no apparent psychical damage. But Fuji felt his body becoming slack and lifeless. His vision blurred for a moment as he watched Dusknoir's stomach open up to reveal a gaping maw lined with sharp teeth. Dusknoir gripped Fuji's arms, attempting to swallow him whole. Fuji tried to hold firm and struggled against the pokémon's hold. Dusknoir soon grew tired of his efforts. It jerked Fuji to the side as hard as it could. His vision blurred as his soul was ripped away from his body entirely, which grew slack and fell to the floor without him. Before all conscious thought slipped away from him, he felt Dusknoir pulling his spirit, leading him far away. He could just barely hear the radio in the distance.
"For you, a special torture."