The Japanese Jekyll

Chapter 3

"Darkness Falls"

"RUN!" Yugi yelled, consumed with fear. His hand was outstretched, reaching towards Anzu as the darkness swirled around the edges of his periphery. He watched the blackness close around his fingers, obscuring Anzu's face. Those terrified blue eyes and her blood seared into his brain.

He feels his face go too, like sinking beneath the surface of the ocean. No longer aware of any floor or walls, he allows himself to float. His "body" drifts backwards, reclining while his hands bobb at his sides. A pulse rocks him every so often, and his hair moves and spreads, flowing free as if in zero gravity.

Eyelids shuttering, he fights the strong, sudden urge to sleep.

No, he thinks. I cannot sleep. Not this time. Anzu needs me.

He jerks back upright, but seems to remain in a seated position. His legs curl underneath him as he attempts to maintain his balance, bobbing along in an invisible current. It carries him deeper and deeper into the darkness, into a lightless void.

After drifting downwards for what seemed like an eternity, Yugi's shoes hit resistance. He glances down, tracing the faint outline of stonework with his deep purple irises. Crouching, he sweeps a hand across the surface, recoiling as a freezing cold shock courses through him.

With trembling fingers, he holds his hand up to his face, twisting it this way and that as he attempts to catch some dim light. The place where his hand made contact with the floor had browned, peeling and shrinking like a mummy's dehydrated, dead skin. His joints and bones were clearly visible, twig-like and brittle.

A terrified yelp catches in his throat, and he backs away in shock. Not looking where he's going, Yugi is surprised when his heel catches against a raised limestone step. He falls backward, away from the darkness and into a brightly lit, underground room. Landing on his lower back and rear, he winces from the pain as his body makes contact with the unforgiving floor.

Torches crackle all around him, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. The light flickers and dances across the stones, as shadows move in rhythm. A pervasive sense of bygone eras permeate the space, as the room's construction seems ancient and timeworn.

As Yugi picks himself up, he notices a narrow passageway to the back-left. He approaches it with caution, glancing over his shoulder for an alternative escape. But it seems that the way back into the endless void has been sealed. The only way appears to be forward.

His shoulders brush against the walls as he strides forward, his school jacket rubbing against the limestone. Dust and sand occasionally drift down in feathery spurts, falling between the cracks in the monument. Some of the grains catch in his hair, and as he brushes them from his tangled locks, he begins to realize that he's in a tomb of some sort. Underground, like a catacomb.

Up ahead, he hears the faint echo of voices. Yugi trains an ear forward, brow furrowing as he strains to make out the words. It sounds foreign, almost guttural, with complex noises. Arabic, maybe? Two voices appear lower than the third, male and authoritative.

As he nears the end of the passageway, Yugi presses his back against one of the walls, only barely edging out around the corner. Stifling a gasp, he can't quite believe the scene unfolding before him.

The room is cavernous, with high ceilings and surprising length. However, despite its off putting size, it's very sparse. Hieroglyphs and Egyptian paintings adorn the walls, their color fresh and unmarred. A long, stone bridge connects two standing platforms, one on each end of the room. Beneath it, a seemingly endless drop into darkness.

That can't be safe, Yugi thinks to himself, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Dust, grains and reeds...the smell is pungent and noticeable. But a staleness also creeps in, hiding underneath the initial agricultural wave. There's a must, the smell of dirt mixed with rainwater, that lingers after the fresh ingredients have died.

Yugi is taken aback by how new everything seems. But there's evidence of slapdash construction. Paint bleeds outside the lines in some of the portraits, and in others, the coat is still wet. In several places, a specific section of hieroglyphs have been buffed out, intentionally and haphazardly chipped away and defaced. Even the carvings chiseled into the ornate limestone bridge have an unfinished quality to them.

What is this place?

As the initial awe and wonderment fades, Yugi's eyes land on a body. Broken and bloodied, it lies limp on a small altar nearby. It's a young man, barely into his early twenties. His features bear an eerie resemblance to Yugi's own, although his eyes seem sharper, his brow more tense. This stranger even has similar, wild hair, streaked with black, blonde and red.

Blood stains the corner of the young man's mouth. It's dried some, but it seems relatively fresh. Open wounds and scratches pepper across his arms and legs, mingling with the layer of dirt that seems to cover every inch of him. More blood pools at the side of the altar, collecting as drops fall from the young man's limp fingers.

Yugi feels inexplicably drawn to him, and he sidles closer. He approaches the altar, his face dropping closer as he inspects the young man's visage.

There's something regal about the young man's garb. His tunic is plain, cream-colored beneath the brown sheen of sand. Gold bands encircle his waist, arms, and neck, glinting deep yellow in the torches' firelight. Various rings populate his slender fingers, and opulent earrings dangle from his ears. A faint red mark on the man's forehead indicates the former presence of a diadem.

Someone softly sobs nearby, a mournful cry that breaks Yugi's focus. He drifts to the side of the altar, and sees a young woman, kneeling at the man's side with her head bowed reverently. Chestnut brown hair spills over her shoulders with each heart-wrenching shake, as tears smudge the kohl under her muddy eyes.

She reaches up, raising her hand to the young man's body, as if to hold his hand. But another man steps up behind her and slaps it away.

"Mana, show respect. You dare not raise your hand to the king," he spits, his narrow blue eyes cold and focused.

"I...I'm sorry, Set. My lord. I just…" Mana's voice hitches, and her watery hazel eyes shift up towards his, "One last time…"

Set softens ever so slightly, his lip twitching. "Hmph," he snorts, crossing his arms. It's not an answer, but Mana runs with it.

She grabs the king's hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm so sorry…" she whispers to him.

Another man, an older priest, is seated on the floor some feet away. A thin linen cloth is draped across his crossed legs, weighed down by dozens of small gold pieces. It looks almost like a puzzle, since each shape is unique and grooved. He pours water from a jug, splashing it across the pile, and sets to work polishing the blood from each piece. The clean pieces are set aside in a neat row on the stones, allowed to air dry before returning to their home in an ornate, decorative box.

Yugi's eyes pinch shut, and he shakes his head. Confusion sweeps across his face. He can't understand those voices - he doesn't recognize the language - but somehow, he's able to process what they're saying. And it's all so...cryptic. Eerie. And why don't they seem to see him?

Is this a memory?

A shadow sweeps across the room, causing the torches to flicker. As the light sputters, there's a low, wispy sound, like a long exhale.

"This place is cursed," Set growls, tappings his fingers against his crossed arm. His long white cape billows as the shadow passes by him, but he seems unconcerned about the entity encircling them.

"It's the puzzle," the older priest murmurs, sweeping a finger across the ominous Wadjet eye that adorns the biggest puzzle piece. It flashes with sinister energy. "Now that the darkness is trapped inside, we should let it become lost to the shadows."

Mana flinches, her eyes meeting the priest's. "Shimon..." she begins to protest.

"It was his duty, Mana." Shimon meets her despair with steely resolve. "He knew what this sacrifice meant. And he saved us all."

He dumped the remaining gold pieces into the box, sealing the lid as he rises to stand.

"We can't do anything for him now. Release him," he continues, patting her shoulder as he places the box on the young man's body. Shimon carefully positions the king's arms, and drapes them across his chest, in the Egyptian burial symbol.

"I still think we should give him a proper burial," Set interjects. "Burying a king in an unmarked grave, without a sarcophagus or an embalming? You treat him as you would a peasant. His name will die, but his body should live on with the regals. We owe him that much."

Shimon shakes his head. "I understand your pain, Set. I do. He was like a son to me, and a great leader. But we have to forget." He gestures to the world outside the tomb. "They have to forget. So his death isn't meaningless."

Another chill passes through the room, breezing right through Yugi as it swishes around the enclosure. The torch lights go out, plunging everything into pure darkness. As the light vanishes, so does Mana, Shimon and Set.

Yugi watches the puzzle box glow with bright yellow light, pulsing like a heartbeat. With each throb, the room seems to age and deteriorate. The warmth turns to a cold, gray-blue palette. Cobwebs populate the corners, and a thick sheen of dust coats every surface.

And then, a small white orb ghosts out of the puzzle box. It seems shy, tentative at first, like a firefly in April. But slowly the light builds, transforming into the likeness of the young man. It's clear he's nothing but an echo, but his presence is surprising all the same.

He opens his eyes, and Yugi starts at their unusual color. Deep red, like a Nile lotus. There's a lost look to the young man's expression, an unfathomable melancholy. Like someone who's missing a piece of themself. The darkness in the room seems to collect beneath him, a living shadow that clings to him and steals his life.

Little by little, he begins to disappear. Waist deep in blackness, the ghost's gaze shifts to Yugi. A shiver runs up Yugi's spine as their eyes lock, and he finds himself rooted. Fear paralyzes him, keeping him from running away.

A sadness overcomes him, growing within his chest like ice shards. His heart begins to hurt, as if squeezed by someone from the inside. Each beat tears through his body, white-hot. He wants to scream, to turn away. He wants it to stop.

Wake up! He yells, willing himself back into his body. Please!

Blood, red and vibrant, drips from the ghost's mouth. His bodily wounds slash across his ethereal form, before all color fades from his form entirely.

With pale skin and faded hair, the ghost almost looks like a mirror image.

He stalks towards Yugi, his expression growing darker. The shadows swarm around his body, hissing. The red in the ghost's eyes burns brighter than ever.

He takes Yugi by the neck, crushing his windpipe with one hand. He lifts Yugi off the ground effortlessly, smirking as his shoes flail uselessly, trying to find purchase.

Don't get in my way, the ghost's deep voice fills Yugi's head, loud and threatening.

Gasping, Yugi struggles to breathe. Air can't make it into his lungs, stopping at the ghost's choke point. The room begins to grow hazy, until…

Like a drowning victim seconds from death, Yugi bolts upright in bed, fighting for breath. Panting ragged, deep gulps of air, he tries to steady his racing heart. Sweat dapples his flushed skin, slicking his hair to his face and neck. Nausea rips through his abdomen, along with the hollow feeling of hunger.

Blinking, he struggles to ward off disorientation as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. The darkened corners of his room swim into focus, streaked with the blue light of a half moon. A tangled mess of blankets cover his still-clothed body.

Night?

He shakes his wrist, checking his watch. 11:28 PM. He does a double take.

8 hours. It's the longest stretch of time he's ever missed.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stands up so he can pull his glucose monitor out of his rear pocket. With how terrible he's feeling, the blood sugar levels must be off the chart.

As he tugs his monitor loose, another device falls out of his pocket. It clatters to the floor with a loud, heavy sound, drawing Yugi's focus. His phone, a thick, black iPhone 5, lies face-down on the hardwood.

Stooping to pick it up, Yugi's fingers shake as he turns the device over in his palm. The screen flickers to life, illuminating his wallpaper - a selfie with Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu and Ryou. A large crack runs across the picture, splintering the image in several places. The most damaged of the rifts cuts across Anzu's face, breaking her carefree smile.

Yugi rubs his thumb across her face, almost as if trying to wipe the crack away. To undo the damage.

And then it clicks. "Anzu!" Yugi exclaims out loud, almost too loudly.

Swiftly unlocking the phone, he clicks her name and presses the phone to his ear. Closing his eyes, he silently mouths a prayer, a wish. Please let her be ok.

"The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try your call again later."

The busy dial-tone rhythmically bleats in his ear, even after he lowers the phone.

He tries her number again. Straight to the message. It isn't even her normal, cheery voicemail.

What did he do to her?

Grabbing his keys, he heads for the door. Heads for her home, even though it's the middle of the night and she lives a good twenty minutes walk away.

He doesn't see what's hidden beneath his bed. He doesn't see the bloody pink school jacket, balled haphazardly next to his childhood games and dust bunnies.