The Denial of Death

What do you do with a soul that's not supposed to exist?

It was supposed to be different. The boy would grow with a lust for vengeance - but remain whole - and would die at the hands of the Pharaoh when the time came, much too deluded in his own wrath and pain to seek forgiveness.

But...these humans...these pitiful, insignificant humans! They seemed to have a love for shattering their destinies, particularly holders of the Millennium Rod. Of course, where the Shadow Realm was involved, most mistakes could not simply be fixed...but it tried. Oh, did it try.

At first...at first, the soul had simply been torn. Nothing unusual; nothing that wouldn't mend itself enough to hold until the boy's death. Even the dark half controlling the body could be allowed; this was nothing that would break Fate.

But then...as if simply out of spite (and this would not have been a surprise), the boy picked up the Rod.

This, ultimately, was what irreversibly broke the path that the boy walked.

A mistake, a vital one, had been made. The Rod had been used in an attempt to repair the boy's soul - stitch it together, or what amounted to it - with the power of the Darkness. But Darkness was not healing; the attempt to repair it resulted in it merely being taken apart, and the two halves could not be rejoined.

The boy was hopelessly shattered. The Tauk's power flickered and surged before its power receded, reaching into the future to gauge the possibilities. The Rod attached itself to its creation, synthesizing ka and ba for the two halves, for only it could hold together the torn pieces of destiny for now.

And Time studiously marched on.

The Deathday came, and rather than striking down with a destroying fist, an open hand of friendship was offered.

Even the Tauk could not piece together the thrice-shattered Fate now.

But, one infinitesimal moment, years after, the boy's body shuddered a final time on a hospital bed, before his decaying shell's function ceased. The tears of his precious friends, the very ones who'd offered that Fate-shattering open hand, and his loved ones guarded the sacred half of his heart in its judgment.

But...the other half...

What does one do with a soul that ought not to exist?

Officer Jirobou Takeru gave a gruff sigh as he examined the folders in front of him. Why can't this nightmare end? he wondered, feeling hopelessness and despair drag at his heart. He allowed himself a moment of emotion - one moment in a billion - before pressing it away and schooling himself. He had work to do.

The decade-old case didn't seem to want to die. Jigoku no Kyoufu...the thing that Hell itself feared.

He turned back the pages of the thick file and started at the beginning.

Seven years ago, a small town in Egypt had been utterly demolished. Each and every person and animal had been killed in horrifying ways - some scalped before their deaths, others suffocated with detached limbs, and others still ripped apart violently... There were pages of descriptions of the deaths, the Egyptian coroner's report, and minimal amounts of pictures and proportion sketches. Takeru had scanned them a few too many times. He didn't look at them, instead using the paperclip he'd placed there long ago to skip the gory details.

Only one had been left alive, and even he had brutal, terrible scars. Ancient hieroglyphics had been engraved into his skin, unknown and indecipherable words etched into his back with something that had been heated so the wounds would cauterize as the process went. There was a single picture of the wretched mess, but Takeru didn't bother examining it. He would never understand it.

The Egyptian investigators had asked a few professors who were experts on ancient Egypt to attempt to decipher the ancient writings. Most agreed, but three refused, two of whom refused to give a reason why.

The third one had stated, when asked, "I've seen many things in the years I've been studying ancient Egypt. There is a distinct evil about these markings. I sensed it even before I saw the picture. I will not be involved in this. If you are wise," here, he addressed the person interviewing him, "you will also get off of this case."

Further interviews deemed the man perfectly mentally stable. He stood by his statement. He was released shortly after. The other two still refused to answer why they were not cooperating; having no reason to force this out of them, the Egyptian government released them, as well.

The uninvolved Egyptologist did offer one thing to the case, however. On the boy's arm was etched, in a manner similar to the wounds on his back (though slightly less precise, the man noted), a few more hieroglyphs. The first was something like a feather or knife-looking thing - Takeru wasn't sure, and the file never specified - hovering over two squares. The second appeared to be a serpentine creature, coiled up and down in some mocking imitation of the gaijin myth of the Loch Ness Monster he'd read about somewhere. The man had looked at the pictorials and frowned, offering the interviewer who'd asked him to look at it one word, but no explanation.

Apep.

Further research on the part of the Egyptian government told them that Apep was the ancient Egyptian snake-god of darkness, destruction, and chaos. Takeru had little interest in this part of the file, which contained a little information about the god and the beliefs about the god.

The one thing that caught his eye was that the god could never be permanently destroyed, only temporarily defeated.

The boy who'd survived had been deemed mentally unstable and a threat to himself and others after both a suicide and murder attempt. Some part of Takeru's mind remembered from reading through the file so many times that the boy had been muttering two words when he'd been found: yami and unmei. Takeru knew those words as well as anyone.

Darkness. Destiny.

The boy had been sent to an insane asylum - a loony bin, in layman's terms - once he proved to be of no help. The Egyptian investigators found the boy's records and found no connection whatsoever with Japan - no relatives living there or who'd travelled there, and the boy had certainly never gone there himself. The kid wasn't even old enough to be taking a second language. The town he lived in didn't have a good library or computer for him to research in, and the likelihood of him meeting a traveller who knew those words to learn them was so low it wasn't even funny.

So no one could logically figure out why the kid seemed only able to say two Japanese words.

The file contained no updates on the boy since then, though Takeru knew that he'd been monitored for any change. Either the changes weren't there or they weren't relevant to the case. It didn't really matter to the officer.

And the scars on the kid's back? Disturbingly, all the professors became mentally unsta- Screw it. They went crazy, rambling nonsense about darkness and chaos and destruction in various languages, all within four months of beginning to work on the translation. Any work they'd done on it was thoroughly destroyed - burned, usually, though four of them had been destroyed with various volatile chemicals. The burns, both chemical and heat burns, found on many of the translators' hands indicated that the destruction of the work was voluntary.

The three professors who'd refused to help had been contacted and taken in by their respective governments - because now, this was an international thing, as those professors had been in countries around the world. This time, though, they were taken in as suspects rather than potential consultants.

Each of them gave very similar explanations. The file contained a relevant excerpt of each interview, as well as the file number and location in storage of the copies of the interview transcripts.

The excerpt of the third one basically summed up what was said in the other two, so Takeru skipped to it. He noted, not for the first time, that it was the same man who had translated Apep from the scars on the boy's arm.

"You said, last time, that the markings on the boy's back seemed evil to you. Why did you say this?" was the question.

"Sometimes, you simply know things intuitively. I've seen many things that radiated some sort of darkness of evil, but none so potent and fear-striking as those markings."

"Is that why you wouldn't translate them? Because they said something...evil?"

"...Less because of what they said and more because of the intent that they were made with."

"What intent would that be?"

Takeru narrowed his eyes at the next line - a notation beside the dialogue indicated that the word had been spoken in the professor's and Takeru's shared native language, Japanese, unlike the rest, which had been in Arabic. The professor, though native to Japan, had been living in Egypt at the time. Takeru believed that the man had returned to Japan sometime after the interview, however.

But the word...

"Tenmei."

"...Why do you say that?" the interrogator asked after the word had been translated for him. A notation told Takeru that the professor smiled. Takeru had never seen the video recordings of the interview, as he didn't understand Arabic and didn't specialize in reading body language, but something in him made him believe it was a grim smile.

"Intuition," the professor had said, and Takeru snorted. Intuition, indeed.

The excerpt ended with a note that all three had used the word intuition at one point or another, and that the word seemed to signal the end of anything remotely informative from any of them. The governments couldn't hold them for long, but warned them each that hindering an investigation was a serious crime, and watched their activity closely over the next few years. None left their respective countries. Takeru growled and sighed at the same time, frustrated with the old interviews. He flipped the page.

The Apep Massacre had been the name that the case earned, during the first year while they were trying to find a trail from the cold case. However, it couldn't stick - in the six years following, seven other massacres occurred, all with the same hieroglyphics as had been on the boy's arm written on the wall in copious amounts of thick, blackish blood - like some sort of demonic work of art. It became the Apep case, pure and simple, because no longer was it a single massacre – it was unprejudiced genocide.

The methods of killing were...disgustingly artful, or at least attempts at it. There were pictures. Takeru skipped both these and the descriptions again, in no mood to know the gore, but he did pause to skim for any clues he'd missed. He carefully skipped the parts that he knew would make him vomit (again).

Three of the families that had been murdered (at least the sicko didn't seem to be fond of torturing small children, as their deaths were usually faster - but maybe it was just because the kids died more quickly, having less blood to milk out of their small bodies) had been in Japan, one in Australia, one in Ireland, and two in Egypt again. There was no pattern - no consistent number of people, no race or gender discrimination, nothing that the people seemed to have in common except just that: they were people. There seemed to be no particular pattern to the killings, either, but there had to be one - even if not on purpose, the human mind was a thing of patterns. There had to be some subconscious connection...something...

He shook his head. The psycho-analysis part of the file was practically nonexistent. Sure, the departments had tried - everyone had tried - but even though that part of the folder went on for a good forty pages, there was nothing consistent or substantial, and there were so many possibilities, so many maybes...

The truth was that they knew nothing about this guy.

There were never any witnesses. The neighbors never reported any strange noises or sights. There was nothing at any of the scenes to indicate that someone had been there at all. It was as if the bodies had simply spontaneously been destroyed.

Several countries had long ago transferred the case to their respective supernatural departments. Japan was not among them, though only those working the case knew the details - such as Takeru. He'd been assigned to the case three years ago, and had vomited the first glimpse he'd gotten of the scene.

He hadn't been green, but never, in his career, had he seen anything like that.

With a long, rough sigh, Takeru dropped the file onto his organized desk and leaned back on the creaky wooden desk chair he'd had in his home office for years. It was two in the morning - he really ought to be going to bed to catch a few hours of sleep before getting up for work in the morning. But...not yet. He wanted to brainstorm a bit, see if he thought of anything new to try. Who knew? Maybe it'd lead to him solving the case...

He snorted and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Like that'd happen.

Okay...okay, recap...

The Apep Massacre had taken place seven years ago. The only survivor had been the boy - and it was philosophically debatable whether or not his mind really survived the event. Why that boy? There was nothing particularly special about him - he'd been 14 at the time, according to what Takeru knew, which made him about 21 at that point. He hadn't been rich or, really, stood out very much at all that Takeru knew of - and anything that did stand out about him apparently wasn't pertinent enough to note in the file. There was a picture of him, somewhere in there, but Takeru didn't care to find it right then, and besides that, if anything had been spectacularly abnormal about him physically, it would've stood out more to Takeru the first time he'd seen it.

He shook his head. "Why" wasn't something that mattered nearly as much as the fact that it was true.

Seven years, Apep Massacre...all the translators had gone insane and destroyed their work... The three that refused had seemed like suspects, but with no solid evidence against them, they couldn't be held, and there had been no indications in the year of observation following the second set of interviews that they were involved. Since continuing to watch them seemed pointless and like a black hole for funding (how a government could spend so much money on observing one person, Takeru didn't know, but bureaucrats were quite adept at finding ways to spend more money than was actually needed on things), the observations had ended with nothing concrete enough to either request further observation or try to bring any of the three in.

With a sigh, he rubbed at his face again, feeling the long years of working at this case wearing at his mind again. The file didn't include anything about the three professors after the second set of interviews and a couple brief notes that led to nowhere during the observations, five or six years ago, but for some reason, something about them bothered him. His gut, even without any substantial, logical reason, had always fiercely insisted that the three had to know more than they let on. And the boy...the boy always seemed to come back to mind. He couldn't understand it. There was no reason to look back into the boy, or the professors for that matter, and yet...

Maybe he'd look and see if the Japanese Egyptologist had indeed returned to his home country. Perhaps he could see the man off-hours and have an off-the-books interview...

Takeru never had claimed to play it by the book, after all.

Yeah, he decided, suddenly feeling sleepy, I'll do that...I think I'll send in a request for the...the visiting records for the kid at the asylum, too...what was his name again?

With a wide yawn, he decided it didn't matter very much. He stood up, stretched, and picked up the file, ready to turn in for the night.

It turned out he'd been right. It took him a while, but he managed to find out that the Japanese professor had returned to Japan fairly recently - just three months ago. Luckily for Takeru, the address listed as being the only property in Japan that the professor owned was in a small city only three hours' drive from Kyoto, where the officer lived and worked.

He'd also spoken to his superiors about getting the record of visitors for that kid (for how often he thought of the kid, he could never actually remember his name without seeing it), but since he hadn't been a lead six years ago, they saw no reason to waste time working through red tape to get a sheet of paper that was probably blank. The kid didn't have any known living relatives, and it was seriously doubtful that he ever saw anyone but a therapist and possibly people who weren't really there.

That Sunday - two days after he'd had his brilliant middle-of-the-night epiphany, if he did say so himself, and he did - he got up at 6:00 and started out at 7:00 or thereabouts, keeping an eye on his GPS to make sure he got there okay. There were no incidents finding the city, but it took him a good hour to track down the address listed in the professor's file.

When he figured out where it was and why it took him so long, he had to raise an eyebrow at the building he was parked outside. After a moment of staring, he shook it off. I suppose I've seen and heard stranger things.

He got out of his car - not the "coolest" car around, but sleek, and very practical - and tugged his jacket a little tighter to ward off the early autumn chill. He walked around his car and stood at the door for a moment, uncertain of what to do, but after a brief moment, pressed his gloved hand to the glass and pushed it open.

A bell jingled above him - How quaint, he thought absently, amused - and a loud thump and yelp followed immediately. Takeru almost started to back up, feeling very out-of-place without the bustling feeling of the Kyoto streets around him, but a warm voice called out distractedly, "Ahh, just a minute! Be right with you!" Still uncomfortable, Takeru let the door close, stepping further into the warmth of the room and glancing around at the shelves, which looked newly-cleaned and very neatly arranged. It didn't take long for the sound of soft, fleet footsteps to reach his ears. He looked towards the door behind the counter where the clerk would presumably stand.

"Hello, sorry about that," a warm voice said, and the sentence ended just as the speaker appeared, dust clinging to his clothes and hair and face. He wiped at his clothes futilely, then ran a hand over his face before looking at Takeru. "May I help you, sir?" he asked politely.

"Err..." Takeru, for the first time in a long time, really didn't know what to say. The boy looked like he was 16 at most, with huge spikes of hair that didn't look stiff or gel-slicked, blond fringe, and crimson tips on the black spikes. The boy's eyes were purple - violet, maybe - with a notable crimson gleam in them. "I'm, uh...I'm looking for Dr. Mutou Yuugi..." He trailed off, very certain he'd misread the address in the file.

To his surprise, the boy gave a small, sheepish smile. "I'm him," he said softly. "May I ask who you are?"

"Uh..." Takeru wasn't about to start asking this kid questions without some verification. He was very doubtful, though he saw no reason for the boy to lie to him. The kid seemed to understand his hesitation, giving him a soft smile.

"I know, I look very young. My license is right here, and unfortunately, it's the only verification I'm willing to show you until I know who you are," he said, not unkindly, pulling out a black leather wallet from the pocket of his jeans. He spanned the room and opened the wallet for Takeru to see. The piece of plastic did, in fact, read Dr. Mutou Yuugi with a picture of a soft-eyed, sweetly smiling boy.

No way.

Takeru looked the boy over again as he put his wallet away and noted that the kid only came up to about his chest, including the hair. This was just weird...

But his gut told him to believe him, so he decided to see what the kid knew and go from there.

"I'm Officer Jirobou Takeru... Currently, I'm helping to work an international case, and I'd like to talk to you..." He paused, watching something flicker in the kid's eyes. Worry? ...Darkness? Pressing it aside to analyze it later, he continued, "But since it's not official police business, it'll be off the record. Would you mind trying to help a little?"

The boy shook his head immediately, his face serious, though still kind-looking. "Not at all. I don't know what I could offer to your investigation, though. If I'm right, I know the case you're talking about." There was a sad, knowing glint in his eye, one that seemed to be contagious. Takeru felt sadness in the pit of his gut.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "You were already interviewed in Egypt, if I'm correct."

"Twice," Yuugi - Takeru decided that the boy probably wasn't lying - confirmed what he already knew.

"Well, I'm sorry to do so a third time, but I think it might help me get somewhere on this case. I've been at it for three years, but I haven't been able to piece together anything." Takeru rubbed his eyes with one hand, then dropped it to his side and looked at Yuugi again. "It may take a while..."

"Of course. I can close up early today - I live above the shop, so we can go up there for this, and business isn't very good on Sundays, anyway," he said, smiling warmly. Takeru resisted the urge to smile back - the kid was just so sweet.

Appearances can be deceiving, he reminded himself as he stepped aside. Yuugi flipped the sign on it to the "closed" side, but left the door unlocked. He turned back around and glanced around the shop, then looked back at Takeru, smiling again.

"I'll take care of everything else after we're finished," he said. "Please, follow me. Would you like some tea? It's a bit chilly outside, after all."

"No, thank you." His gut told him it was okay, but he decided to be professional. There was a reason he had long ago decided to never accept anything from someone who was involved with a case - even something like tea, and even if he wasn't technically on-duty (and was breaking several other rules). He liked to remain not poisoned, thank you very much.

"Alright." The kid led him up some stairs and into a kitchen. He glanced around the peaceful room. It felt very welcoming, despite being simple and plain. Yuugi politely motioned to a chair beside the kitchen table, saying, "Have a seat, please. I think I'd like some tea myself." Takeru politely sat down and set the heavy folder tucked under his arm on the table in front of him. Yuugi filled a tea kettle with water and set it on the stove, humming a tuneless song. After turning on the stove, he opened a cabinet overhead and strained to reach a mug on the bottom shelf. He set it carefully on the counter with one hand and pulled open a jar on the counter with the other, pulling out a tea packet.

"What kind of tea is that?" he asked, curious.

"It's a really good peppermint-flavored tea my friend gave to me," Yuugi explained, turning around and leaning back against the counter with a fond smile. He stared past the officer at the wall for a few moments. After a brief pause, his eyes focused on Takeru again. "You can start asking questions, if you'd like."

Takeru turned his eyes down to the folder in front of him and opened it slowly. "Well...let's start with something simple, I suppose. What do you remember about the case six years ago?"

Yuugi frowned slightly, as if straining to remember. In the different lighting, Takeru was able to see the slight worry lines that had formed on the boy's face over time. He suddenly didn't seem so young - he seemed like the aging, tired professor he was.

"I was told that there was a horrible massacre and that a young man had been brutalized..." The man shuddered subconsciously. Takeru knew the feeling. The images of those cauterized, precise cuts were burned into his mind, too. It was all the worse for someone who hadn't seen the sort of carnage that had been at the scene... "I was asked to translate the hieroglyphics and refused. Five months later, I've got the Egyptian government on my doorstep, asking what I knew about a bunch of people in other countries who'd apparently gone insane while working on translating the texts and destroyed their work. I'm pretty certain I was a suspect." The other examined Takeru innocently for a moment. The officer made sure to give nothing away.

"Is that all?"

"I remember translating the wound on his arm, and I remember that it was much sloppier than the ones on his back... Apep. One of the two Egyptian gods acknowledged as all-powerful, the other being Ra, as well as darkness and chaos deified."

"So you knew about the god at the time?" Yuugi nodded. "Why didn't you explain it to the Egyptian investigators?" Yuugi blinked.

"They didn't ask. I assumed they were going to let me remain uninvolved, as I wished." Takeru inwardly twitched at the last three words. It didn't seem to be an intentional jibe at the officer who'd brought the issue back into the professor's life, but it still annoyed him.

"Why did you refuse to cooperate?" Yuugi looked a little puzzled.

"I didn't mean to be uncooperative. I just didn't want to translate the hieroglyphics."

"Why?"

The man sighed. "There was an air of evil - malice - in those scars. I've never felt anything quite like that in all the years I've researched ancient Egypt. There are some things that your gut just insists you don't get involved with." There was a dark glimmer in his eyes.

Takeru understood what he meant, but his hyper-sensitive gut had never given him that feeling. "Alright," he accepted, deciding to come back to that later if he needed to. He didn't want to close off the professor prematurely. "Do you think you'd have gone insane like the other professors if you'd tried to translate the hieroglyphics?"

Yuugi's brow furrowed. He looked past Takeru at the wall for a long moment, carefully considering the question. "I don't know," he said finally, slowly. "Maybe." His tone was careful.

"Why do you think the others went insane?"

Yuugi's gaze remained on the wall. "...Some darkness is simply too overwhelming for a man's mind to handle," he murmured. "Some evil is too great..."

Takeru stared at the distant, crimson-touched eyes, shocked and confused by the sudden lost feeling he had. Yuugi was clearly no longer with him, lost in another world. Takeru felt a little like that himself, as if he'd been shoved towards a wall and, rather than hitting it as he expected, had gone through it, staggering into a world that he didn't know.

A long minute passed.

Takeru shook his head and cleared his throat. "Doctor..." Yuugi looked at him, although still didn't seem very focused. "Do you, uh...recognize this boy?" Takeru laid a picture gently on the table, and Yuugi stepped closer to peer at it. His brow pinched in the middle and he frowned slightly.

He answered after a moment, "I recognize the hair. He's the boy whose back was mutilated, isn't he." The sentence wasn't a question. It was a knowing, sorrowful statement, phrased politely. Takeru picked up the picture and put it back in the file, nodding slightly while making a point of not looking at the photo. It had been taken shortly after the boy had been found.

It wasn't pretty.

The officer opened his mouth to ask another question, but at that moment, the long-forgotten kettle on the stove whistled. Yuugi gave a sheepish smile and turned to prepare his tea. Takeru waited until the man sat across from him with a piping hot cup of water with a soaking tea bag in it to ask his question.

"Why do you suppose the murderer did it, Doctor?"

Yuugi frowned, and the investigator prepared for a long wait. He was a patient man when it came down to it. He'd allow the doctor to take his time arranging an answer. However, the man took surprisingly little time, leaning forward only moments after the question was out of his mouth and looking Takeru dead in the eye, the crimson glint deepening.

"Like I said, Officer," he murmured softly, "some darkness is too great." His eyes were dark and sad. Takeru shuddered and wondered why he hadn't followed protocol, but at least now, he was certain of it. Dr. Mutou knew more than he let on.

Much, much more.

"Why did he leave that boy alive, then? Why that boy? Why not any of the other people?" Takeru was shocked that his voice remained steady and fierce through the entirety of the three questions.

Yuugi stared Takeru in the eyes, leaning back slowly, eyes flickering with sadness. "Rensa."

What's that supposed to mean? But Takeru didn't dare ask. He had a feeling he wouldn't get much of an answer.

Some darkness is too great...

Takeru shuddered and allowed a moment to pass while Yuugi removed the tea bag from his drink, standing to throw it away. When the other man sat back down and took a sip of his tea, the officer steeled himself to continue.

"Why that village, then? Why not a bigger city, or a smaller one?"

"I don't know." Yuugi's eyes were soft and honest now. Takeru found it inexplicably irritating.

"In your second interview with the Egyptian officials, you used the word tenmei in answer to being asked what intent the hieroglyphics were made with. What did you mean?"

Yuugi frowned slightly, sipping his tea. After a moment, he said, "I'm afraid that's not a question easily answered." Takeru narrowed his eyes for the first time.

"Why do you feel that this was the intent with which the marks were made?" Takeru still didn't understand how the word applied, but perhaps it'd make sense if he could get Yuugi to expose himself more. Finally, after all these years, getting somewhere... He didn't think Yuugi was a murderer, but maybe he was protecting someone. But why...? It didn't matter.

"...Intuition."

Takeru snapped.

The chair he was sitting on clattered onto its side as he stood abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table with anger in his eyes. He didn't understand why he was so furious...

"Bull!" he snarled angrily. "What do you know? What are you hiding! Tell me! I swear to God, kid, if I hear one more word of this bull about intuition and not knowing -" He cut himself off, realizing the horrible mistake he'd just made. He'd lost control. Control of what? Why am I so angry...?

He focused on Yuugi's eyes. The darkly flickering eyes bore into him calmly.

"There is darkness in this world, Officer Jirobou - darkness and evil and chaos embodied. It should not be, but it is. There's a reason that the trail is cold - such horror is simply not meant to be found. You can find him again and again, but it's not going to end. It's better not to know."

Takeru stared at him, shocked into silence.

What's with this guy...?

"I think it's time we were finished," Yuugi said after a long, dragging pause - not unkindly, even. He stood up. Takeru straightened slowly, still in shock, and picked up his folder subconsciously. He barely realized that he'd followed Yuugi down the stairs until they were in front of the door. "It was nice to meet you, Officer Jirobou." The doctor offered his hand, but did not wish him luck on the case. Takeru shook it, just as his brain began processing things again.

...What just happened? he wondered as he walked out the door of the Kame Game Shop of Domino, Japan, into the chilly autumn breeze.

By the time Takeru got home, he was very sure it had been exactly the lead he'd been looking for. Mutou was definitely involved, and probably much more deeply than Takeru had first suspected. He'd had that knowing look in his eyes, but it was sad, like there was a terrible, deeply-buried secret in them, and he was desperate to share it but knew he couldn't.

No matter. Takeru had dug up buried secrets before. He'd do so again. He could not leave such a horrific criminal unpunished, no matter the secret.

It was about 9:00 at that point, and he'd been studying the file with renewed vigor. His stomach was unhappy with him - he hadn't had a bite to eat since breakfast - but he was so close, he could feel it! He couldn't quit now, not when the truth was within reach.

It wasn't just his stomach, he knew. His gut was churning with worry and caution, as if some fear instinct had been awakened by his encounter with Mutou Yuugi. He ignored it, pressing it to the back of his mind, but he could still feel nervous sweat on his forehead, even if it was only slight. He could worry when he was dead. Right now, he had a crime to solve, and it was one that had to be solved before it got worse.

And to think...maybe he'd be the one to solve it...him, Jirobou Takeru of Kyoto, Japan! No one would suspect this hero...

He shook his head. He was no hero yet.

Think, 'keru... What's the missing link?

He ran the confrontation at the end of his meeting with Mutou through his mind again, this time concentrating on the tones. Mutou had been severe with him - not harsh or cruel, but stern, as if trying to get him to leave it alone. There had been no desperation in his tone, but there were flickers of worry and - what? Pain? Longing? - in his eyes.

From what he knew of Mutou, the man had no living relatives. He couldn't pull much more information on the professor without a good reason, and since the interview had been off the books and against protocol, it wasn't as if he could present transcripts of the discussion to his office and hope for the best.

Well...he could...but he'd probably lose his job or, at the very least, be suspended for it. Suffice to say, it wouldn't go over well.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. At least he was getting somewhere, which was a lot better than what had been going on with this case for the past seven years.

He was just about to lean forward and dig into the psycho-analysis pages again when he felt it.

His gut wrenched and he felt ill; the hair on the back of his neck stood up. His forehead felt increasingly sweaty, but he shuddered uncontrollably. The room suddenly seemed very dark...

He stood and spun around in the same motion, flinging his poor, battered old desk chair onto its side in the process. The old wood finally gave and the back of the chair and the back legs broke off as one piece. He didn't look at it, though, too busy pressing back into the desk and staring warily at the shadowy figure leaning lightly on the wall across from him.

In the dim light from his study lamp, he could see glinting metal and gleaming, soul-searing eyes.

It had been a long time since Takeru had been caught so off-guard, and his thoughts were muddled at first - How did he get in here? Why? Who? What's he going to do? Have to escape... - but he quickly pressed aside those thoughts and assessed the situation. The other wasn't directly in front of the door, but could easily catch Takeru if he tried to make a break for it, being much closer than the officer was. Takeru had two options for a weapon, but his eyes weren't adjusting quickly enough for him to see what sort of weapons the other may have. He could definitely see metal gleaming near where the figure's hands ought to be.

The lamp.

Takeru didn't look at the object, but judged from his memory how far it ought to be from him. He'd have to be quick to pull this off...

"Who are you?" he demanded. He narrowed his eyes. His voice was too shaky for his liking.

He could see the eyes...the gleaming, laughing eyes. They shifted, narrowed, and crimson glittered on lilac. Shadows danced in them, as if they were smoldering... A low, light chuckle brought him back to reality.

"Tell me!" he snapped, more fiercely this time. Why didn't he bring his gun into the office with him? Stupid, stupid...

The other laughed - a rough, gut-wrenching laugh, one of sadistic malice. Then came a voice - smooth like venom in rich honey. "Your Jigoku no Kyoufu..."

Takeru sucked in his breath.

He was going to die...

"Wh-...why?" he asked, his voice shaking, but he didn't care. Fear shone in his eyes. Jigoku no Kyoufu laughed again - a hellish, infernal laugh, the cackle of a demon.

"Darkness. Chaos...it is the doom of the world," he explained, as if it were obvious. The eyes narrowed into slits suddenly, the gleam of insane amusement deepening. "Your blood will be the next," he hissed, and it sounded like a snake's laughter to Takeru's ears.

It was his only chance. His hand shot out and grasped the neck of the lamp, twisting it swiftly so the light shined into the face of the demon. Just as quickly, Takeru stooped down and grabbed the broken back of the chair, watching the reaction.

Instead of closing his eyes against the sudden brightness, the demon continued to stare at Takeru, his eyes widening with insanity as he laughed like a demon. The pupils of his lilac, crimson-touched eyes (Why do they look so familiar?) contracted until twitching specks of black were all that remained. The laughter was loud and hysterically insane, as if Takeru's attempt to escape amused him.

It didn't matter. The officer lunged, bringing the wood down at the monstrosity with all the strength he could manage.

A blade impaled his left arm, scraping one of the bones before sticking out the other side. Takeru dropped the wood involuntarily as he stumbled into the wall, his palms striking it roughly. He tried to scream, but only a whimpering choking sound came out. The serrated knife, handle down, slid agonizingly out of the wound, finally clattering to the floor just as Takeru collapsed.

A moment passed, a wretched, dragging moment, and a shadow beside Takeru moved. He stared as a darkly tanned hand picked up the knife, and twisted onto his side to clutch his wound with one hand while staring up at his attacker.

The murderer stared thoughtfully at the knife, grinning slightly. His flickering eyes shifted slowly to Takeru, and the officer wondered absently why the man looked so terribly familiar...

"How should I kill you?" mused the demonic-eyed man. "Skin you? ...No, I've done that one too often... Hm..." He glanced around the room, as if for inspiration. After a moment, his eyes settled on something, and he grinned, looking slowly back at Takeru. "Perhaps I could do something for you...surely you've wished to give your heart to someone before?" Takeru shuddered involuntarily, but said nothing. He felt cold metal press against his throat before he realized that the man had even moved. "Answer me."

"N-no..." he whispered hoarsely, trying not to move very much. The knife pressed a little more, then ran down his neck beside his throat.

"So selfish... You see? So much darkness..." The grin widened as the tip of the knife dug into his collar bone. Takeru made an effort not to scream. "Then you'll hold your heart in your hands...but first..." The knife dug into his shoulder to its hilt, directly beside the joint, and he choked on bile, very certain that he wouldn't be able to move it. Then it was pulled out slowly, as if just to agonize him further.

The cold blade pressed into the upper right part of his chest, dragging down to the middle, leaving a burning, shallow slit in its wake, then another on the other side in a V. From there, it sliced straight down his stomach.

Takeru realized with horror just what the demon had planned for him.

The familiar, insane eyes gleamed, and with the passing observation of a dying man, he noted the contrast between the man's light, almost whitish, hair and his dark, deeply-tanned skin.

Wait... Dark, flickering eyes... Like Dr. Mutou...and the hair...the boy...

"Wait," Takeru croaked hoarsely, coughing on the bile and blood (Blood?) gathering in his throat. The knife paused in the first slit, where it had begun to retrace. "Why leave the boy?"

"Hmm?" Something in the eyes flickered - laughter, perhaps - as the man grinned and sneered.

Takeru was sure that the world paused. The demon looked like he wasn't seeing the officer anymore, but rather, through him, into the distance, looking at something only his eyes could behold.

"...Tenmei."

The knife pressed deeper and traced the wound again.

Mutou Yuugi halted with a sigh, feeling the weariness of age weigh on his shoulders. Overhead, the sky rumbled ominously, and he glanced up at it. The deep, distant blue was overcast by threatening, dark thunderheads, looking ready to burst. He was glad he'd reached his destination before then.

Domino was a small enough town that you could walk most places you needed to go, or catch a bus to the other side of the city if it was far enough. In this case, Yuugi had to both catch a bus and walk for a good fifteen minutes, but it was worth it.

Shivering in the cold wind, he turned to face the black gate that stood firmly before him and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he knew by heart with shaking hands. It took two rings for the other end of the line to be picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Yuugi. Could you open the gate for me, please? Sorry it's so late, but..."

"Just a moment," muttered a familiar voice. Yuugi waited. After a minute or so, the hydraulics on the gate came to life, and it opened enough to let him through with not much room to spare. He slipped through and slid the phone into his pocket as the line went dead. The gate closed behind him. Smiling, Yuugi started up the long driveway, jacket pulled tight against the biting wind.

The looming manor looked just a little friendlier once you were standing on its porch, able to see the warm lights through the windows. Yuugi grasped the doorknob and twisted it, shoving the door open quickly. He wasn't eager to remain outside longer than necessary. Besides, he knew it would be open.

The warmth welcomed him kindly, the door providing a wonderful barrier to the cold. Yuugi paused in the entryway to absorb the heat for a moment before starting up the stairs, mentally preparing himself for the meeting to follow.

Within a minute, he stood in the open doorway of a relatively small room - maybe the size of Yuugi's bedroom - with a card table in the middle holding a chessboard, pieces in place. At one side of the table sat a familiar brown-haired man.

"Kaiba-kun," Yuugi greeted softly. Kaiba grunted in acknowledgment as Yuugi took the seat across from him.

"White plays first," Kaiba said needlessly, even as Yuugi lifted a hand to move his knight out and to the middle. Kaiba moved a pawn forward one space. Yuugi smiled.

"The game never ends, does it?" he murmured, not expecting an agreeable response and not receiving one for a moment. After the pause, Kaiba scoffed slightly.

"Of course it does. It just takes the right play."

"So many ways to make a mistake..."

"If a mistake is made that costs the victory, then the strategist doesn't deserve to win."

"What if there's an unknown?"

"There should be no unknowns."

"There are always unknown unknowns."

"Then the strategist must think on his feet. Anyone who deserves to win will find a way through it."

Yuugi was quiet for a moment, staring contemplatively at the board. "We have to act soon, Kaiba-kun," he said.

"I still don't understand why the police are incapable of handling it," the taller man muttered, moving a bishop before crossing his arms again.

"...Some darkness is just too great." Kaiba glanced up at his companion, but Yuugi was staring past him, remembering the interview with Officer Jirobou. "Another police officer came to the game shop today," he added, abruptly moving his only remaining rook.

"After six years..." Kaiba observed. "Why?"

"He's only been on the case for three." Kaiba moved his queen out, his knight protecting it, while Yuugi stared past him thoughtfully. "I suppose he didn't want to just trust the information in the file. Maybe he thought he'd find a lead."

"What did he ask, and what did you tell him?" Yuugi moved his rook again and leaned back in his chair.

"Check. He just asked about the case and what I thought of it, mostly. Asked why I refused to help, why I gave a few of the answers I did before, and what I thought Apep's motives were. I left my answers pretty vague, but I tried to get him to stop...I think I may be investigated again..." Kaiba scoffed in irritation as he took Yuugi's rook with his knight to protect his king, glaring at the bishop that was about to take his queen.

Yuugi stared past his opponent for a long time, his eyes unfocused. It took longer than expected for Kaiba to grow impatient. "Your move," he prompted, sounding annoyed.

"Hm?" Crimson-glazed amethyst met fierce, endless cerulean, then focused on the game board. "Oh, sorry." He reached out and moved his bishop, but instead of taking the queen as Kaiba had expected, he poised to put Kaiba's king in check once again on his next turn. He watched the CEO rest his finger on the king lightly. "Kaiba-kun...I'm sorry I had to involve you in this." He lifted his eyes hesitantly to meet the gaze of his opponent and friend. The man's eyes were narrowed, but he clearly didn't know how to respond to that.

"No apologies," he said after a moment. "You, of all people, should know that I don't accept regretting past moves. What's done is done. The future is what we work because of, not the past."

"I know, the past is just a stepping stone," Yuugi completed with a smile. He knew what was really being said.

No apologies. No regrets.

Kaiba narrowed his eyes a little more, then nodded and looked down at the game. He looked at his rook and his king, then grabbed one in each hand and castled. Yuugi gave a small smile.

Now the game begins...

The windows flashed and the electricity flickered. Thunder boomed over the manor, but neither paid very much mind. About twenty minutes into the thick of the game, a maid entered to ask if she should prepare a dish or drinks for the two.

"That's fine," answered the CEO distractedly, though his voice was still habitually gruff. The maid turned and went to leave the room, but just as she reached the door, he looked up and said, "Wait." He looked at Yuugi for a brief moment. "Prepare a guest room, as well. That's all."

"Yes, sir," the woman said, and left the room. Yuugi smiled at his opponent, who was studiously studying the board.

"You didn't have to do that..." Kaiba narrowed his eyes at the board when Yuugi paused. "...but thank you."

It was only about ten minutes before the most childish snack in the world - which is to say, cheese and crackers - arrived on a very literal silver platter with grape soda in both of their crystal wine glasses. Kaiba had never acquired a taste for wine, and only drank soda in very, very select company. Where the idea for cheese and crackers came from, Yuugi had never found out, but ever since he had begun visiting the Kaiba manor as a fairly regular guest, it had been the snack of choice for his games with the elder Kaiba brother.

Which was why Yuugi was having a midnight game of chess with his greatest ally and rival, snacking on what amounted to junk food in the Kaiba household, during the storm of the century. What a day.

"I just don't know how this is going to play out..."

"Stop worrying." They'd found themselves worrying far too much to worry now. "The strategist can never be sure that all will go according to plan. It can't stop them."

"It's a high-risk game," Yuugi reminded, gaze boring into Kaiba. "What if someone dies?" Another person...and it'd be his fault. He didn't think he could live with that.

"Many more will die if nothing happens." His friend held his gaze unwaveringly. Yuugi flinched.

"So many already, though...Is it worth it?"

"Of course it's worth it. It's always worth it." Kaiba looked back to the game and moved his bishop.

Maybe to you...but I don't think I could stand losing someone...not to this, not like this...especially in vain. Yuugi said none of this. Instead, he murmured, "Such darkness. Such pain. It's gone on for too long..."

"It will end," Kaiba said firmly. Yuugi was glad that his friend was so certain. It made him feel stable enough to carry on.

He stared at the board for a long moment. "I think we're at a stalemate."

Kaiba glanced down and was silent for a moment. "...Yeah. We are."

Jigoku no Kyoufu: Japanese. "Fear of Hell" or "Hell's fear," whichever you prefer.

Yami: Japanese. "Darkness," as stated in the fic.

Unmei: Japanese. It does translate as "destiny" or "fate," and it's the word used in the Japanese version of the anime most often; however, an alternate translation offered by Google Translate was "doom."

Tenmei: Japanese. The default translation offered by Google Translate is "karma" but one of the alternate translations (probably the more literal translation) is "allotment of Heaven." Pretty much, it's God's damnation, in this case. (I do know that "ten" is a word for "Heaven" or something of that nature and, judging by the use of "mei" in unmei, as well, the idea is somewhat similar. Geekazoid etymology powers, activate!)

Rensa: Japanese. "Chains" - came up when I was looking for a word for "connection." It seems to literally mean "chains," which is why Takeru was so confused when Yuugi used it metaphorically.

"Officer": In Japan, there's no organized federal crime-fighting department. I don't know how they handle international crime, but my best guess is that the government works closely with other governments while the police do the actual investigating within their country. I don't know about Egypt, which is why I wasn't terribly specific - but then, I'm not very familiar with the Japanese government and law enforcement, either.

Apep: Everything stated about him in this fic is true. He's pretty much Ra's only true rival power-wise, and what Seth protects Ra from when he goes to the underworld to regain his power. Eventually, Seth took on most of Apep's characteristics, aside from being Ra's enemy, and became perceived as the ancient Egyptian equivalent of the devil. As for the hieroglyphs for Apep's name, those are also factual, and I factually don't know if the first hieroglyph has a knife or a feather or what, but that's really what it looks like.

Castle: In chess, if all the pieces between the king and either rook are out of the way, neither the king nor rook have been moved, and the king is not in check and will not pass through check, the player can perform a castle. In this special move, the king is moved two spaces towards the rook and the rook is moved to the space immediately on the opposite side of the king. Read into it what you will.

Check: In chess, the king is in danger, but can be gotten out of danger. Checkmate is when the king cannot be saved by moving the king, taking the threatening piece, or putting a piece between the king and the immediate threat.

A/N: ...Yeah, not what I was expecting, either. Think I ought to bump up the rating? It's nothing particularly graphic, but if I were to read it having not written it, I think I'd be a little disturbed. It's definitely dark for a YGO fic, but not compared to some I've seen.

The last part feels out of place, but I actually like that as an ending, so I'm keeping it. It doesn't give the story complete closure, but there's something in it other than hopeless despair. I do think that it lost sight of the original intent, however.

So...in conclusion (and explanation), what does a vaguely alluded to deity do with a soul that shouldn't really exist but is the epitome of hatred and darkness and sadism? Reincarnate it, of course! It's not as if the soul can be sent to whatever version of Hell the vaguely alluded to deity happens to favor; naturally, Fate cannot allow a soul that has not really lived or died to pass by.

Truthfully, if one were to think according to (what I understand of) the ancient Egyptian beliefs (which I try to do when writing YGO fics), it would be a bit of a complicated situation. Two "halves" of the same soul, one evil, one good. Which way does the scale tip? Technically, they're different in moral nature (good or evil), but they are of the same soul. Think of it as splitting yourself in half – the halves are still part of the same whole body, technically, but they're no longer connected, so if one half were to go murder people in the streets while the other is a complete angel, which do you hold accountable? Their lives were the same life, but they were separate nevertheless. Ergo, both halves are reincarnated with "false" other halves to fill the hole where the other half ought to be, and allowed to live their own lives so that they are held accountable as two individuals even though they're still technically connected. One is no longer responsible for the actions of the other, however.

As for what Malik died of, I can think of several ways, the one that comes to mind being cancer. Also, I'd put Yuugi and the gang at about 50 years old here, whereas Yami no Malik would be 21 or so. (Yes, that puts him at 14 when the first massacre happened.)

Anything left unspecified? Ask me, or use your imagination. I can't respond to anonymous reviews, so all you anons, go to my profile for my email if you'd like. I'll get back to you ASAP. (I really don't mind questions about things I purposely left unspecified - the only reason they're unspecified is usually because I didn't feel that it was relevant enough to the story to include. These things include: the boy who survived the massacre (yes, implied to be Malik; and just about all the details about him are unspecified), what the rest of the gang is up to, who the other two historians are, why Kaiba sounds like a really cold version of Yoda...I could go on for pages.)

Note on my excessive use of Japanese: If you read my translation notes above the A/N, you'd see that most of the words I used didn't carry the same meaning in English as in Japanese. Each of the words was chosen for a very specific reason. I'm doing my best to use them to add to the tale itself rather than just to look cool or knowledgeable.

Review, or Yami no Malik will hug you. Takeru (who, yes, is an OC, and yes, is named after Takeru (T.K.) from Digimon) will testify to what that's like.