Chapter Text
II
Kaede’s parents were often out of town on business. According to her, they worked for a very big tire firm based in France—she was an inspector, he a writer. Exactly what that had to do with food—or even if it had anything to do with food at all—Yū wasn’t certain; Kaede often bemoaned that her parents were particularly reluctant to discuss the details of what she did for her job, even with her. All she knew was that they were home for perhaps once every other weekend before suddenly being whisked away on a plane flight—anywhere from Sendai and Fukuoka to Seoul and Shanghai. This meant that Kaede saw her grandmother more often than her mother and father—which in turn meant that the modest, pastel-colored flat above her grandmother’s shop had become her home away from home.
On the outside, Kazue’s Puzzling Pâtisserie didn’t look like the first reason why kids and young families were so often seen in this part of town. That honor was shared by a toy store two doors down, an indoor play place across the street, and—Maiami City being Maiami City—an independently-owned comic-and-card shop that catered to first-time players, kids, or just anyone who preferred to play Duel Monsters in a much simpler environment, with less competitive conditions. All three, with their bright colors and flashing lights, looked more likely to draw the eye of anyone who hadn’t reached the age of ten than the pale yellows, pinks, and blues that Kaede’s grandmother had used to paint both the edifice of her shop and her upstairs dwelling.
But the trick to her success was twofold, explained Okashi Kazue to Yū as she laid out a place with three more of her signature millefeuille énigmes—cut out in the jigsaw-puzzle-piece shape that had put her store on the city map.
“Tell me about this one, Yū-chan.” She pointed to the nearest pastry with a gnarled finger. “Could you describe it to me? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
She winked, and Yū smiled. He knew even before then that the kindly old woman was lying through her teeth—or perhaps just the one tooth, in Kazue’s case—but he indulged her anyway.
“Well, there’s a strawberry on the top,” he started, letting his eyes travel downward, then around the confection. “Looks like chocolate and … blackcurrant jelly?” He looked to Kaede for confirmation; the Cuisine Duelist nodded back, unable to say anything through the pastry she was currently demolishing with gusto. “Drizzled over the fondant glaze, right … dusting of powdered sugar for garnish and—ouch!”
He yelped as Kazue rapped him on the forehead with her index and middle finger. “What was that for?”
Kaede’s grandmother was the picture of innocence. “I’m sorry, did you say something? I stopped listening after you mentioned the strawberry.”
Before Yū could respond to that, something flashed in her eye, and the LDS Duelist immediately bit back his words.
“It’s always the little things that we remember,” Kazue told him. “It’s the details that stick in our minds—those little bits of color in the black and white of everything we do everyday. That’s why the strawberry was the first thing you described to me—because it was the first thing you noticed. But most people,” she said, raising a finger, “don’t often realize that the little thing for one person might not be so little for another.”
Yū thought he understood. “People stop by here so they can unwind and have a treat while their kids play,” he guessed. The relative lack of vivid colors was much more relaxing than the hustle and bustle of a playground, he thought. “But they’re so preoccupied with their own lives that they don’t really think about what goes into that treat? Or even how this place got made?”
Kazue tilted her head quizzically. “You’re not making any sense at all,” she wheezed with an impish grin.
“Obāchan?” A twenty-something woman had just come up to them. Cradled in one arm was a tiny girl no older than three who had to be her daughter. Immediately, Kazue had turned to beam dotingly at the pair.
“Well, if it isn’t Aimi and Aiko-tan!” she gasped in mock surprise. “Are you feeling better now?”
Aiko nodded shyly. “I saw you with her after she skinned her elbow in the bouncy castle across the street,” Aimi explained. “So I told her I’d let her buy a snack here before we headed home—because I knew she’d want to see you one more time.” Then, to the child, “Say ‘thank you’, Aiko!”
Aiko, blushing furiously, burbled something that kids her age might have thought sufficed for polite thanks, and hid her face in Aimi’s shoulder just as quickly. Yūrei was seen to pull a face of disgust at the overly cutesy display.
Both women, however, didn’t notice, and even Yū felt a smile curling round his cheeks at the display. “Oh—well, you’re very welcome,” said Kazue warmly, as mother and daughter turned to leave. “Bye-bye, now!
“And that’s it,” she said after turning back to Yū. “That right there is my so-called secret to success.”
This, however, raised yet more questions for the LDS Duelist. “The play place?” Kazue nodded. “What were you doing over there? You’ll forgive me if I can’t see you bouncing off the walls with a bunch of kids,” he joked.
“Think about what you just heard,” said the old woman, still smiling. “Don’t you think that woman was a little too old to be calling me obāchan?”
Yū thought. “I guess,” he conceded. “Especially since I know your only grandchild is sitting right across from me.” He nodded to Kaede. “But I don’t see what any of that has to do with what you were saying to me earlier.”
Kazue grinned. “The secret to life isn’t the little things in life,” she said. “It’s being the little things in someone else’s life.” She looked to Yū’s pastry. “Underneath the details—under all that garnish and glaze—is the same old millefeuille I’ve been making since I was Aimi’s age. I can pretty it up as much as I want, I can go out of my way to make sure no two of my énigmes are the same. But, like they say in America—‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.”
Yū remembered that Kazue had called her success twofold. “What’s the other part, then?”
The grin got wider. Yū could almost see the one remaining tooth behind the aged lips. “I just told you.” Kazue leaned in close, as if to confide a great secret. “I’m Kaede’s obāchan. But,” she added, “that doesn’t mean I can’t be everyone else’s obāchan.”
She cackled and creaked as she saw the look of enlightenment dawn upon Yū’s face. “There’s nothing more to it than that?” asked the boy. “You’re just … there? At the play place, the card shop—everywhere on the street?”
“Nothing brings in business like an old geezer with a smile on her face, a spring in her step, and a spark in her eye,” Kazue said sagely. “It’s the kind of marketing that money can’t buy—and it’s why I’m glad you’re the one who’s my granddaughter’s Dueling tutor. Because sooner or later, those two kids are going to be a part of the very first class you teach; I’ll wager my last tooth on it. Oh, yes—you’ve got the same smile, spring, and spark as Kaede’s father did, when he and my daughter had their first date here. Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday … ”
She closed her eyes wistfully—and then abruptly clapped Yū on the shoulder. “So I think you’ll make for a wonderful teacher. And a handsome one, too,” she added with a wheezy giggle, “if I say so myself.”
Yū felt his cheeks turn rosy at the compliment. “Oh, um—thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his suddenly warm neck. “But I think I’ve got a long way to go before the kids on the block start calling me Ojīchan.” He privately amended that he’d rather they not; it was embarrassing enough that Kaede called him her sensei. The notion of twenty more kids her age calling him the same thing made him shudder.
But the mischievous wink Kazue passed at him told him it might be too late already. “If I have my way,” she grinned, “I’ll live long enough to make sure that name sticks. Isn’t that right?”
She’d looked to Kaede and Yūrei, the latter of whom looked so far out of place in the pastel paint scheme of the bakery’s interior that it boggled belief. Both kids, however, were already trading wicked grins; they’d heard every word, and had every intention of carrying out Kazue’s wish.
Yū was saved by the beeping alarm of his Duel Disk—it was high time he got home. “Hey, I’ve got to head back and rest up,” he told his pupils. “You sure you’ll be fine here by yourselves for a little longer?”
“Sure!” Kaede’s face was almost nothing but smile. “My grandma has a bonus room upstairs that she decorated like my room back home! I can lock Yūrei inside and make him look at all the girly things in there!” she teased.
“Don’t even joke about that.” An eyebrow twitched beneath Yūrei’s gelled hair. “I wouldn’t lock you in my room. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
Kaede stuck out her tongue. “I bet I wouldn’t even be able to see in your room,” she guffawed. “What’d you do—paint it black and spooky like all those bands you listen to?”
“A-a-and heading off now.” Yū hurriedly excused himself before the two children really started to bicker. “Do me a favor?” he said to Kazue on the way out. “Make sure they don’t get too into it. I know kids like to argue, but I don’t want them to take it too far. Last thing I want is one of their Duel Monsters blowing a hole in your ceiling.”
Kazue was still grinning. “Let them try,” she winked back. “Kaede didn’t learn everything from you, after all.”
Yū wasn’t sure if that was meant to reassure him—but reassured he felt, and so he departed the shop then, waving goodbye to Kaede and Yūrei, feeling much more lighthearted than he had all of last week.
That feeling, unfortunately, lasted all of sixty seconds.
The sun had set by now, and the last of the crowds were beginning to depart the street. Yū caught a glimpse of the last few stragglers leaving the play place across from Kazue’s pâtisserie, pleading with their mothers to take them back again tomorrow. The kids reminded him of his own pupils, and he smiled again as he set off into the night.
Very soon, however, the smile had melted off his face like vapor against a window. Some sixth sense was tapping at his inside of Yū’s brain—a sense he’d only recently begun to develop after his unfortunate experience at the Maiami Championship. He slowed his pace gradually, stopped—turned around … but no one was behind him save for the night’s last passersby. Several of them were giving him strange looks at having stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Yū hastily moved out of their way.
The yellow glow of a storefront window—a toy store, he now saw, and one he often passed by on his way to and from tutoring sessions—shone from right in front of him like an invite to sanctuary. He recognized the giant bisque doll that was always propped up in the window’s centerpiece—almost a dead ringer for Kaede herself, if the Cuisine Duelist had been a foot or so shorter.
He stood there for a while, his eyes staring ahead without really seeing anything. Perhaps it was just a false alarm, Yū thought to himself. Paranoia. He shook his head, and backed away from the window—
—when all of a sudden the light from within shut off, plunging Yū into surprising darkness. The store must just have closed, he guessed; he could see the faintest hint of a figure moving away from the door, deeper into the store, and disappear up some stairs that he supposed led to a residence. Within seconds the silhouetted form was lost to sight against the hustle and bustle of the city’s gathering nightlife, mirrored in the darkened window—
Wait.
If his eyes hadn’t been trying to follow the would-be owner of the toy store, Yū might have missed it completely. But as they’d been attempting to trace the motions of all the reflections moving past him, he’d noticed something standing quite still, on the other side of the street, where the crosswalk was—almost directly behind him, just visible above his right shoulder. Against the glow of the streetlamps turning on, it looked misshapen and black, like a trash bag left on the curb for pickup. But the shape was too big … too broad … it was almost like—
It moved—only a fraction. But it was enough for Yū’s sixth sense to sound off in alarm again. That something was definitely someone; he’d seen the top of the bag peel back just slightly enough to make out a sliver of face beneath. He could see where the cloak concealed the shoulders, now—they were turned either side of him, broad and muscly even underneath the loose-fitting clothing.
Looking right at him.
But he wasn’t close—he was still on the other side of the street, and Yū took that to heart as he forced himself away from the window, and down the sidewalk again. He’d picked his pace up slightly; he didn’t want to entertain any more dark thoughts about the dark figure he’d seen—
Someone collided with him—or had Yū collided with someone? All of a sudden, he was flat on his back, but just as quickly hauling himself back to his feet, apologizing profusely to whomever he’d run into. But in doing so, he’d turned towards the crosswalk—and froze.
The figure was gone.
Where was he? Was he still there—had he turned away and left? Or had …
The LDS Duelist, already short of breath, felt the oxygen crystallize in his throat—was that a ripple of black heading towards him?
run
At breakneck speed, Yū plowed headlong into the flow of pedestrian traffic. Men, women, and children gasped and muttered as he sprinted past them with a stream of hasty apologies, jostling them enough that he hoped they would cover his tracks for long enough that he could get help—now it was just a matter of how far away he could hide—
There! The dimming light was just enough that he saw the alleyway off to his right—a mere crack in the wall against the buildings that flanked it. He took a deep breath, waded into one last knot of passersby—he was in!
But Yū did not celebrate for very long. He spent a long, dangerous second to take a deep breath—and then he was going further inside, past rubbish bins and sluices still wet with runoff, swallowed up by the gathering darkness of nightfall. Yet he had no intention of hiding in here until the man in the cloak—could he be one of those invaders? he wondered; he hadn’t seen anything about him to suggest it yet—finally tired of looking for him. If he was an invader, then he probably wasn’t alone. It was harder to hide from a group than it was a single person.
So Yū, his fingers fumbling, took out his Duel Disk—but just as quickly, he was suddenly posed with an unexpected question: who to even call? The police were the most obvious choice—but were they trained and equipped enough to handle even one Duelist of the caliber he’d faced during the Championship? Would he contact his fellow Duelists to ensure he had reinforcements, if indeed there was more than one person tailing him? Or was there any use for either? What use would there be, he pondered, if he called on strength in numbers to deal with someone who—for all he knew—was more likely to be a misguided, run-of-the-mill stalker?
He jumped; the sounds in this alleyway—the dripping of water, his own footsteps, seemed magnified tenfold in the narrow space, and all the more for the darkness that robbed him of all sense of direction. There was nothing for it—Yū decided then to take the risk, and call the police.
The LDS Duelist was halfway through dialing 119 when he promptly got the shock of his life: the Duel Disk’s blade suddenly came to life; a violet-colored chevron shape that hovered across his left forearm, like the edge of an axe.
His first, foolish thought was to wonder what had happened—Yū hadn’t even pushed the button to activate his Duel Disk like this! But reason returned an instant later—followed swiftly by a growing sense of dread; he had the distinct impression that he’d been forced into a Duel. His worst suspicions were immediately confirmed.
“Who’s there?” The question echoed in the alley, fortunately masking the tremor in his voice, and making him sound more authoritative than he was feeling right now. He hoped that was enough—but that hope was promptly squashed scant moments later.
“Kaede, Okashi.”
… What?
As with his own voice, the husky rasp that spoke back was amplified many times over by the acoustics of the tiny space—but where Yū had heard a bravery to his words that didn’t exist in him at all, here it had been transformed into a menacing, and slightly metallic growl. Accounting for the distortion of the space, he guessed whoever this was had to be a young man—late teens, maybe early in college, judging by the low, resonant pitch of his words.
It was the words themselves, however, which confused Yū. How did this person know the name of his own pupil?
“Kaede, Okashi,” spoke his pursuer again. “Cuisine Duel School, Junior Division. Madolche Deck supports monster self-recovery and survivability. Bypass inherent trigger effects. Defeat is imminent.”
Yū turned around in a full circle, trying to let his eyes adjust to the pitch-black darkness. “Yūrei, Yashiki,” the voice rumbled. “Wight School, Junior Division. Ghostrick Deck favors stall tactics and field manipulation. Hinder field and backrow support. Defeat is imminent.”
The LDS Duelist felt his breath catch in his mouth as the weight of the words he was hearing sank in. This boy was casually name-dropping not only the pupils he was tutoring—pupils who were kids just over ten years old, the minimum age for most Duel Schools to accept new students—but also their Decks, the strategies they used, the weaknesses of them both … and most disturbing of all, where they went to school to learn about Dueling with them.
Whoever this person was, Yū now knew he had to be extremely dangerous. How long had he been tailing him, he wondered, to know this information? Had—a dull thud reverberated in the bowels of his stomach at the unsettling thought—had he been tailing Kaede and Yūrei as well? Did he know not only where they went to school, but also where they lived?
“What do you want?!” he demanded, feeling his voice pulse with anger. “You’ve got five seconds to talk before I call the police!”
“That won’t help you.” Something about the suddenness and dismissiveness of the young man’s reply suggested that he’d anticipated that course of action. “Yū, Sakuragi. Leo Duel School Xyz Circuit, Youth Division. Magical-Spellbook Deck combines multiple Spells and Spellcasters to control the field. Hybrid construction betrays minimal weakness; employ overwhelming force. Defeat is imminent.”
A new noise echoed in the alleyway, a sort of high-pitched, mechanical snarl. Yū had no trouble recognizing the sound of a freshly activated Duel Disk.
He turned in a circle again, looking all over for the colored light of an active blade, but none could be seen. Either the darkness of the alleyway was so consuming that it had been snuffed out, or this man knew the place well enough that he’d chosen a good hiding place. The latter was concerning; it implied that Yū hadn’t found his way here of his own volition—that he’d merely been cleverly lured into the narrow confines of the alley, like a rat in a maze.
“I’ll make this simple for you, Sakuragi Yū,” hissed the man. “Your Duel Disk is being jammed, and I have eyes on your only way out. One way or another, the only way you’re leaving this alley is through me. So—tell me where Yūto is, and I might just let you skip what’s coming.”
Yūto? Yū shook his head, though he knew the man couldn’t possibly see it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he cried out. “I don’t know who that is—I’ve never heard that name in my life!” He’d heard a name like it, to be sure—recently, too. But Sakaki Yūya was an entirely different person from whoever this Yūto character was. Maybe this man had been looking for Yūya instead, and he’d just gotten his name wrong?
“I think you’re lying.” The man’s voice was accusing. “I know he came here. And I know he didn’t come alone. So where’s his partner?” he demanded. “Where is Kurosaki Shun?”
Yū blinked. That name he recognized—but it only made the man’s questions all the more confusing. “No idea,” he said truthfully. “I know who he is—but he’s with the Lancers now. They’ve left the city—I don’t know where.”
There was a long pause. “The Lancers … ” The two words, hissed under a long, sibilant whisper, were almost indistinguishable from the pitter-patter of runoff that trickled down a nearby gutter. Some of the menace had disappeared, now; if Yū didn’t know better, he might have thought his answer hadn’t even been expected.
Which could only mean … “You’re … not from around here, are you?” Yū said hesitantly.
He had said the wrong thing. “I’m asking the questions here!!” bellowed the voice. It took a long moment before the echoes of the shout had completely dissipated from the alley; by the time they had, Yū’s unknown pursuer was speaking again.
“Okay—you’re not being cooperative.” Every direction exhaled a long, rattling sigh. “I’d hoped we could do this the easy way—but I guess we get to do it my favorite way after all.”
Something hurtled down from directly ahead—exactly the same shape and size as Yū’s Duel Disk blade, bright scarlet rather than his dark violet, and illuminating very little of its owner on account of the continually hungry darkness. It alighted a little over a meter above the ground, then raised itself a little higher than that, tilting until the holographic edge turned directly to him—like a sword ready to strike for the kill. Yū, in a moment of realization, knew then that this man wasn’t much taller than he was—six feet and change, he guessed.
Then, a moment later, as if a switch had been flicked in his brain, all other thought was dispelled. Five cards were in his hand, the display of his Duel Disk brightened, and both combatants snarled, “Let’s go! DUEL!”
On the other side of the city, deep under the ground floor of the most prestigious Duel School in the world, a young technician did a double take as the computer screen in front of her flared with telemetry.
She studied the wealth of digital information that streamed in every direction like a spider’s web, and repeated it all to her supervisor with the practiced cadence of experience: a Duel is in progress in Sector SE-16 … LDS student Sakuragi Yū confirmed, opponent still unknown … But what puzzled her throughout all that was the nature of this opponent’s Duel Disk: the signal pattern her computer was picking up was not familiar to her at all; it oscillated on a completely different wavelength than the Disks used by many Duelists in Maiami City.
In fact, as the technician explained to her supervisor, recent experience told her this was only the third time on the job that she’d ever seen a signal like this before. At this, her supervisor’s face had darkened, and he’d turned away on the spot, pulling out his phone and speaking in low tones to whoever was on the line—presumably, his own boss.
Now suddenly left to her own devices, the technician watched the Life Point counters assume their standard amount of 4000, the hand sizes to five cards—but still the nameless opponent remained unknown to her.
But recent experience had also told the technician what to do in this circumstance. A few practiced keystrokes from her therefore triggered a flag on the nascent Duel; no direct action would be taken, but from now on, until one of their LP totals reached zero, every card and every play both Duelists made would be monitored and catalogued.
It was also recent experience that led her to hope it wouldn’t be Yū who reached zero first.
“I activate the Continuous Spell: Advance Zone—along with the Spell Card: Compensation for Arisal!”
The unseen Duelist wasted no time in making the first move; Yū heard both cards slap on his blade in quick succession before he’d even caught his breath. “Then, because I control no monsters, I use Evil Cell of the Inverz’ procedure to Special Summon it from my hand in Attack Position!”
There was just enough light between their Duel Disks for Yū to see the monster that had been Summoned just now: a black, round, beetle-like creature the size of a beach ball, its three wings buzzing ominously in the alley (Level 1: ATK 0/DEF 0).
“Next, the Spell Card: One for One!” the Duelist went on; Yū faintly saw several cards being shifted here and there. “With this card, I can send a monster from my hand to the Graveyard, and Special Summon a Level 1 monster from my Deck! I Special Summon Scout of the Inverz in Attack Position!” The insectoid, grayish-black monster that emerged a moment later wasn’t much bigger than Evil Cell, but it was considerably more erect in posture, and only slightly more intimidating for that reason (Level 1: ATK 200/DEF 0).
“Finally, I Release my Scout and Evil Cell to Advance Summon this in Attack Position! Come out, Inverz Horn!”
Years of experience in Dueling, and a physique to match, were all that kept Yū from being blown flat on his back from the mighty wind that had suddenly erupted in the narrow alley. But as it was, the LDS Duelist still stumbled where he stood, causing him to take his eyes off the field for a crucial moment. When he regained his balance, he very nearly lost it again when he saw the monster that had buzzed onto the field.
It rather looked like a human had been crossbred with a cockroach, and had then been force-fed so many steroids and growth hormones thereafter that it had grown further still—as broad from shoulder to neck as Yū was shoulder to shoulder, and at least half as high again in height as he stood. The chitin-plated antennae that trailed from the monster’s head only added to its already imposing stature—while cape-like black wings and twin pairs of bone-white blades over its jaws and claws completed it, snapping and buzzing in an unsettling alien dirge (Level 9: ATK 3000/DEF 0).
A 3000-ATK monster on the first turn?! Yū bit his lip. He’d seen monsters with that level of strength before; some of them hadn’t even needed card effects to make them that strong. But to see one so soon, before he’d even played a card … this person was intent on making sure he had the dominant field from the moment the Duel had started.
“One card face-down,” finished the faceless Duelist, ending his turn. “During each End Phase, Advance Force’s effect applies during any turn I Released monsters for an Advance Summon. Since I released two monsters, I may draw a card—and then,” he added as he did so, “because of my Compensation for Arisal, I may apply even more effects if I Released any monsters from my hand or field this turn. Since I Released at least one monster, I may draw a second card—and then, because I Released two, I may add two monsters from my Graveyard to my hand!”
Meaning the Evil Cell and the Scout he Released to Summon that Horn, Yū knew, feeling his teeth bite deeper still into his lip. At least this unknown Duelist going first meant that he couldn’t attack with it right off the bat; it’d be easier to form a counterattack with all four thousand of his Life Points rather than only a thousand.
The card he’d drawn just now, he thought with a smirk as he stared at its artwork, might just give him that chance and then some. “I begin,” he therefore cried, “with the Quick-Play Spell: Divine Judgment of the Spellbooks—and then,” he added, placing a second and third card onto his screen, “I activate the Continuous Spell: Spellbook Hall Étoile, and the Field Spell: Spellbook Institute – La Maison!”
Several things happened at that moment. A pair of multicolored sigils shimmered around him, glowing dimly in the murky shadows that still pervaded this Duel. The alley itself was just barely seen to disappear from view; its rough walls and pavement were smoothed and polished by some invisible pair of hands, until it had been completely transformed into a stately hallway of marble floors and pillars. The faint light of a star—or some unknown equivalent—floated meters above his head, but the darkness surrounding it lingered still, causing the ends of the hall, and the columns and ceiling that framed it, to be lost to sight almost instantly.
It was this that made Yū convinced that the darkness itself was not natural—that it must be the byproduct of some Solid Vision function the boy was using, in tandem with the nightfall itself; perhaps to aid his stealth and mask his appearance. Well, he said to himself, there was a simple answer to that.
And so—“I Summon Batel the Magical Spellbook Keeper in Attack Position!” Yū declared, swiping a single monster onto his blade. Fortunately, the holographic lighting coming from his Étoile was just enough to illuminate the newest arrival to the field: a young boy in his early teens, clad in a blue robe and an elaborate hat to match, clutching a tome that brimmed with arcane light (Level 2: ATK 500 » 600/DEF 400).
Though he knew his opponent probably couldn’t see a darned thing in this light, Yū gestured to the hallway around them anyway—and more specifically, the blue light hanging above him like a chandelier. “Spellbook Hall Étoile’s effect allows it to gain a Spell Counter for each Spellbook Spell Card I activate,” he explained, “and its second effect allows all Spellcaster-Type monsters I control to gain 100 ATK for each of those Counters!
“Now, because Batel was Normal Summoned, I can activate its effect,” Yū went on, “and add one of those Spellbook Spell Cards I mentioned before from my Deck to my hand! I add Spellbook of Grimo—and then I’ll activate that to add another Spellbook Spell Card from my Deck to my hand!”
The effect was immediate: a massive tome, its edges and cover streaming with lattices of pale white light, appeared in his hand and cracked open before him. Transparent pages rushed past him at blinding speed, and sigils raced in every direction from the confines of each one. Yū waited until he saw a second star shimmer above him—a second Spell Counter—and for Batel’s ATK gauge to therefore increase to 700. Then, he made a show of pointing at no sigil in particular, and waited until the prearranged action caused the card he wanted to jut out from his Deck.
“I add Spellbook of Sefer,” Yū said with a grin, swiping that card into his fingers and across his screen in the same motion, “and then I’ll activate that to target a Spellbook Spell Card in my Graveyard, and have Sefer inherit that card’s effect! Which means—you guessed it!” he crowed, as the huge book in front of him suddenly leafed to a different page, and erupted in navy blue lightning. “I’ll target my Grimo, and add yet another Spellbook from my Deck to my hand!”
By now, Yū was in his element. The Spellbooks that composed his Deck, and the Magical monsters that walked hand in hand with them, worked rather like a wizard casting a spell; the more magic—the more Spellbooks—that went into that spell, the more complex its incantation would be … and the more powerful its effect. And as Batel’s ATK swelled further still to 800, illuminated by the light from the tome in front and the stars above, the LDS Duelist was well aware of the complexity of some of the incantations and strategies he’d pulled off that had allowed him to attain Junior Youth champion standing during the previous Championship—and he knew he had more left in him yet before he could consider this one the most devastating spell he’d ever crafted.
“I now add and activate Spellbook of Ldra,” he shouted, watching Batel grow to 900 ATK, illuminated by a sudden surge of magenta light from the tome hovering in front of him. “By sending a Spellcaster-Type monster from my field—or another Spellbook Spell Card from my hand or face-up field—to the Graveyard, I can draw two cards! I choose to send my Batel!”
The azure-clothed magician vanished with an echoing cry, his only remaining trace a stream of energy that disappeared into the holographic tome. An instant later, Yū was placing two fresh cards in his hand, and paused only to take in their effects before he resumed his usual rhythm.
The cards he’d drawn weren’t ideal; he’d been hoping for something a little more aggressive than this. But the LDS Duelist wasn’t unduly worried. He’d managed a great deal for his first turn as it was—moreover, he was keen on making sure this Duel could last as long as he could draw it out. If he was correct, then this Duelist was only jamming the communications functions on his Duel Disk, meaning he could not actively signal anyone for help. But the operative term here was actively; if his Duel Disk was being monitored—and Yū was certain it would be, thanks to recent events—then whoever was doing so could realize who he was Dueling, and have reinforcements inbound once they’d determined him to be a threat. So far, that threat had yet to manifest itself tonight—but Yū did not become a champion Duelist by simply waiting for his opponent to become a threat. He would remove that threat himself if he had to, before it became a problem—or barring that, he thought, glancing again at his hand, he would ensure he had enough options at his disposal that he would quickly be prepared for any scenario.
And so: “I now activate the Quick-Play Spell: Spellbook Organization,” Yū declared, watching yet another star twinkle into being in the darkness above, “which allows me to rearrange the top three cards of my Deck in any order I wish.” He did so, stealing a glance at each one; the order of the cards in which he drew them would be crucial.
“One card face-down,” he finished, placing a card on his blade—and that was all he could do; Batel had exhausted his one Normal Summon for the turn, and he had no monsters on the field with which to attack and destroy that Horn. But Yū had ensured from the beginning that his lack of a field would not be his undoing—because: “During the End Phase, my Divine Judgment of the Spellbooks applies, and allows me to add Spellbook Spells from my Deck to my hand—up to the number I activated this turn!”
He felt a gentle breeze blowing behind him, and saw multiples of his own shadow extending across the Duel field, as if a series of multicolored lights had switched on behind him. In his mind’s eye, he imagined the sigil that had materialized at his back, its six metal wings fanned out like the biblical seraphim—two wings, inches from the ground, two stretched to the sky, and two more either side keeping it airborne.
Six wings, he smirked—six cards. And each one jutted out from his Deck, swiped up in quick succession—but Yū wasn’t done yet. “Furthermore,” he added, placing them all into his suddenly expansive hand, “this effect allows me to Special Summon a Spellcaster-Type monster from my Deck whose Level is less than or equal to the number of cards I added to my hand! I choose to Summon La Mort the Magical Nethermaster in Attack Position!”
Something stirred in the darkness, directly in front of him; it was as if an invisible presence had commanded the shadows themselves to assume physical form. A moment later, that form had manifested into a tattered, black-and-violet robe, a skeletal half-mask, and pointed hat, concealing the face and slim figure of a young man barely older than Yū himself. A many-edged scythe was clutched in clawed black gloves, brought to bear in a defiant stance of attack against the roaring, chittering Horn (Level 6: ATK 2000 » 2600/DEF 1600).
“My La Mort gains effects depending on the number of Spellbook Spells in my Graveyard at the moment of its Summon,” said Yū. “With at least three, it gains 600 ATK. With at least four”—he paused just long enough to watch his monster’s sinister scythe smoke with dark energy, its ATK ballooning to 3200—“I can add a Spellbook Spell Card from my Deck to my hand. And if I have at least five, I can Special Summon a Level 5 or higher DARK-Attribute Spellcaster-Type monster from my Deck! I therefore Special Summon Diable the Magical Demon Knight in Attack Position!”
Two cards extended themselves from his Deck just then. One, the Spell he intended to add to his hand, was swiped up thus with little preamble. The second was slapped upon the blade of his Duel Disk an instant later.
The figure that emerged from the shadows an instant after that was every bit as demonic—if not more so—as the unknown Duelist’s Inverz Horn. Spiked, leathery wings unfolded until their tips brushed the edges of the alley. Fire brimmed from its eyes and maw as if from within, and sizzled within sigils laid within the broad sword it clutched in its claws, and a prehensile tail slashed at the air at diagonals as though it could cleave through flesh and bone with the same ease as that sword (Level 6: ATK 2500 » 3100/DEF 1200).
“Unfortunately,” said Yū, “because that ends my turn, yet I still have more than six cards in my hand, I must discard any excess cards until I do.” This wasn’t the first time he’d run afoul of the hand size limit of six cards in a Duel—but he had since learned to be mindful of the cards he did discard when the situation demanded he had to. With the amount of Spells Yū kept in his Deck, the hand size limit could be just as much of a blessing to him as it was a curse to most everyone else—any one of his Spellbooks could be equally useful in the Graveyard as they were in his hand. So he hardly felt unfortunate at all as he slid a trio of them—Torah, Archive Solein, and Archive Crescent—into a slot at the side of his Duel Disk. He would not need them yet—and very likely not in his hand even then.
For now, he was safe.
“All that … for two monsters and a handful of Spells you can’t even use.” The unknown Duelist almost sounded disappointed as he drew a card to begin his turn. “There’s something to be said for recycling your own cards, Sakuragi. But if you can’t use them right off the bat—if you don’t have the chance to make them count—then they’re nothing more than dead weight.
“Inverz Horn’s effect!” he hollered. “Once per turn, if I control this Advance Summoned monster, I can pay 1000 LP—then target a monster on the field and destroy it! I target and destroy your La Mort!”
Horn’s massive wings filled the alley completely as it rose into the air, thrumming at a pitch that made Yū’s bones vibrate in his flesh. Then, in a blur of speed, the muscular bug-man had crossed the field in the blink of an eye, sinking its pincer-claws deep into La Mort’s torso. The magician was drawn and quartered before he could even muster a cry of pain, and disappeared in an explosion of photons. The shockwave made both Duelists stumble; Yū heard a grunt from opposite him as his opponent’s LP slipped to 3000.
“Next, I Normal Summon Inverz Caller in Attack Position!” the Duelist declared, and another insect-man alighted next to Horn: smaller and more slender, with arms and legs that looked just a little too long for its humanoid form (Level 4: ATK 1700/DEF 0).
“And now”—Yū heard a hiss of breath, as if delivered through gritted teeth—“I activate the Continuous Trap … Compensation of Blood!”
The LDS Duelist’s mouth fell open. “You’re doing what?!” he exclaimed in absolute shock, as he sensed that the Duel was about to take a turn for the worse—and possibly, he thought, for the both of them.
Yū had never gone up against a Deck that used Compensation of Blood before—but he knew the Trap by reputation. During the year in which he’d debuted in the Junior Youth division, he had had the misfortune of watching a Duelist play this same card while attending a regional in Hokkaidō Prefecture—and a crowd ten thousand strong had learned the hard way that the oldest cards in Duel Monsters manifested through Solid Vision in ways that were decidedly not family-friendly. The match was declared a no-decision before the Duelist who had played this nasty Trap was even stretchered out of the arena, unconscious due to the amount of blood he’d lost, and the entire tourney was very nearly canceled due to the extent of his injuries. It had taken a full transfusion before the Duelist was declared out of medical danger, and by the time he was discharged from the infirmary, Compensation of Blood—and several other cards with it—had been banned nationwide from all tournament play for the safety of competing Duelists.
To see this card again, with his own eyes … Yū felt a chill rushing through his spine. For two things about this unknown Duelist had become clear to him now; firstly, any doubts as to whether or not he hailed from these parts had been dispelled—no one would willingly play this Trap anywhere in Japan, not even in a friendly pickup Duel. The cause of its ban was simply too well known. Secondly, it sounded to Yū as if this Duelist was bracing himself when he played this card—as if he already knew what it could do. That he was playing it anyway spoke volumes of either his resilience—or his recklessness. And right now, the LDS Duelist was not sure which one was winning out.
In any case, he felt suddenly grateful for the gloomy darkness that surrounded him, obscuring his opponent’s body. It meant he wouldn’t have to see what was about to happen.
“During my Main Phase, or my opponent’s Battle Phase,” the Duelist said, “I can pay 500 Life Points to immediately conduct a Normal Summon. And I’ll do just that to Summon my Evil Cell once more!”
As the round, morbidly obese insect appeared on his field once more (Level 1: ATK 0/DEF 0), Yū heard a dull noise that sounded like a blunt knife against a slab of raw meat. Then, there was a grunt of pain, delivered through teeth clenched so tightly they might be crushed to powder in seconds, followed by the LP gauge showing his Life Points dropping to 2500. But nothing made him feel greener around the gills than the noise that followed this: a faint, but steady and glutinous drip-drip-drip. The absence of bright light in the alley magnified the noises in his ears until they echoed in his brain, each sound driving home like a nail in plywood just what sort of madman he was Dueling.
“Not yet … ” Yū heard him growl. “Just one more … ” A final grunt; he must have dropped to his knees, only to get back on his feet. “I activate Compensation’s effect again, and pay 500 LP for a third Normal Summon!”
He grunted again, louder this time—loud enough to block out the knife-on-meat sound once more. But even this and his LP falling further still to 2000 was not enough to silence the spattering noise that invaded Yū’s ears a second time. “But this time, I’ll Release my Evil Cell, my Caller, and my Horn to Advance Summon this!”
The LDS Duelist took a step backward in trepidation. A triple-Release monster?! Inwardly, he suppressed a gulp; he’d not come across very many of these monsters before. Mostly it was because they were slow and too resource-intensive to Summon—but when they were Summoned, they were often very difficult to remove from the field.
So he bit his lip again as he watched the silhouettes of all three Inverz monsters disappear into the darkness, gone without a trace but for the puffs of shadow that signified their destruction. In its place emerged an immense mass of black-gold spikes and chitin, rising ten … twelve … fifteen feet into the air …
“Come out!” bellowed the Duelist. “Inverz Glez!”
The insectoid behemoth stepped onto the field in full, its massive body obscuring its Summoner completely (Level 10: ATK 3200/DEF 0). Every square inch of Glez’s four arms was awash in a veritable sea of rustling spikes and chittering pincers, seething and hissing in a cacophonous symphony of noise. Wings the length and breadth of a small house flicked and flapped behind boat-sized armor plates, and a massive horn topped the beady green eyes set in its head—the only thing about the monster at all that was anywhere close to tiny.
“Inverz Caller’s effect activates whenever I would Release it to Advance Summon an Inverz monster,” the Duelist cried, “and allows me to Special Summon a Level 4 or lower Inverz monster from my Deck! I Summon Gatekeeper of the Inverz in Defense Position!”
From behind one of Glez’ gigantic wings crawled a stout, broad-backed creature; Yū could have mistaken it for a hound dog if not for the fact that it was plated in enough black armor to rival a tank (Level 4: ATK 1500/DEF 1900), making its ugly, wide head all the smaller in comparison to the rest of its rotund body. The gleaming jaws set within snarled and slavered at anything that caught its tiny white eyes.
“Battle Phase!” shouted the Duelist. “Inverz Glez—attack Diable!” Glez lowered its horn, hunkering into an attack stance. That was the only warning Yū had before the monster charged at him like a juggernaut.
Diable was ready, though; the sizzling sword was swinging in a wide arc. It struck the horn, pinging off the chitin with a loud CLANG, causing Glez to stumble, and its charge to miss Diable completely. But a second later, Glez had cleverly gone with the movement, and thrashed out with a thick black tail that wrapped itself around Diable’s neck as though it had a mind of its own. Moments later, Yū recoiled—the tail did have a mind of its own: a second mouth had opened at its tip, and a quick flick of Glez’ tail sent that open maw right into the face of Diable—
SNAP.
The LDS Duelist winced at the loud noise; Glez, pinning Diable’s arms and torso from any chance of counterattack, had used its tail-mouth to twist where it coiled under the demon’s chin, right at the point where spine met skull. The sword of Diable fell to the ground with a CLANG that cracked the pavement underneath—and Diable itself, its neck lolling grotesquely, followed suit moments later. A final clawed foot to the chest from Glez disintegrated the monster completely; the shockwave rippled across Yū hard enough that he grimaced in pain from the battle damage.
A hundred-point loss of Life Points wasn’t bad, though—3900 was still far better than 2000. But even so, Yū hadn’t been able to make a dent in his opponent’s LP—it had been all his own doing, and previous experience with Decks that used life as a resource told him that this Duelist had to have some way of getting his lost life back.
Worse still, he felt very, very naked at a stage of the Duel where he ought not be. His field presence was all but destroyed, and he was left staring down an insect-man the size of his parents’ car. It didn’t matter how many times Compensation of Blood was activated—one more hit like that from Glez and he’d be close to finished.
And for all Yū knew, the Duelist he was facing—still as faceless and enigmatic as ever—might well be capable of Summoning far worse.