Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beyond the Looking Glass ❯ Chapter 1: Tag ( Chapter 8 )

Beyond the Looking Glass

 

Author's Notes: Finally, I reveal the ghost's identity.

 

Chapter 1: Tag

 

August 3, 1997

 

“Mommy, we'll always be together, won't we?”

“Of course, baby.”

“*cough cough* even when I get really old?”

“… Yes… even when you get old.”

“Mommy, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep, love… just… go to sleep.”

 

*****

 

“We've arrived, ma'am.”

The voice of the taxi driver jostled Sally out of her dream. She gasped, sitting up straight, her golden pig tails bouncing against her shoulder. The driver watched her warily, his eyes moving over her Chinese features, but she was used to such treatment, especially here in Japan, in a small town that was just as distrustful of her as she was of him. She looked out the window to the fading light as the sun had started to set. Nasue was a small town and was beautiful in the summer, the cherry trees somehow still blooming despite the heat. She wiped the sweat from her bang-less brow. The air in the cab was broken, but she was used to the summer heat in Japan. She smiled softly as she saw the forest path that the cab had parked near. This was not her first time in Nasue and she knew that no taxi would dare to drive up that path. The old path was filled with obstacles that would be foolish to face in a car and there were the old legends. Even as the world slowly approached the millennium, superstition as old as the creation of the wheel remained. Even the most rational person would hesitate to go up that path, but Sally wasn't here for ration. With light fingers, she caressed the urn in her arms, held tightly against any bumps and jarring as though her life depended on it.

Sally Po had been born and raised in China, but once upon a time, she had fallen in love with a Japanese man named Iso Takuma. He had been the first Japanese person she had come in contact with that had not treated her, or any other Chinese person, with distain and distrust. They had started as friends and had ended as husband and wife. Takuma was from Hijiko, a town near Nasue and, on their wedding night, he had brought her to this little town, up to the old, gorgeous mansion that had been up the road. No one came up to the old mansion, he had assured her, and it would be the perfect place to take the first step of their marriage. They had not ventured into the mansion, because, surely, a house that old had to be a death trap, but they had settled for a spot under the ancient cherry tree in the front garden. The entire area had been protected by a huge gate, keeping them hidden. In the past, Sally would have explored the old house, but with their new future on the horizon, she didn't dare. That night, they had made love under that old tree and two weeks later, Sally had discovered that she was pregnant.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice to the driver, paying him and getting out of the car. The man looked relieved to be leaving the area and sped off. Sally cradled the urn tightly in her arms and took a deep breath, starting up the long path. It was going to be a long evening.

 

*****

 

Their lives had been perfect, but five years after their marriage, Takuma and Sally's daughter, Min, had died from lung cancer. It had been a horrible affair that had seemed endless, at the same time that it had been far too short. They had tried to make it work, but after three months of listening to Takuma's excuses for wanting another child and her screaming at him that she didn't want another, not now, not ever, they had separated. It seemed so quick, after a six year marriage, but she couldn't take it anymore. So, she had taken the nine hour drive from Tokyo to Nasue with her daughter's ashes and the bottle of wine they had had at their wedding in order to go to the place that she had conceived the best thing that had ever happened to her.

 

“We'll always be together, won't we?”

 

Sally smiled and tightened her grip on the urn. They would always be together, just like she had promised.

 

*****

 

The old house was just like she remembered it. The cherry tree was still standing, blooming soft pink petals that blew in the wind. The huge gate doors were open, just like they had been five years ago. She slipped between them and walked to the tree. Near the tree was an elegant stone garden that was in complete disrepair. It made her feel sad. At one point in time, so long ago that no man on this planet remembered it, that garden had been beautiful and perfect, but now the rocks had been flung and scattered by time and the elements. It made her want to try to rebuild it, but she lacked the skill. She caressed the tree with her fingers and pressed her forehead against it. The smell of the cherry blossoms was intoxicating and she closed her eyes.

The single, beautifully sad jingling of a bell filled the silent evening and Sally's pale blue eyes shot open. She looked around the garden, her vision skimming over the windows of the mansion, but she could see nothing that would cause the noise. She shook her head and sat down under the tree. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what things had been like five years ago. It had been just a little bit cooler, but everything looked the same. In a place like this, time had stopped, and that was just fine with her. She placed her daughter's ashes at the base of the tree and poured the whine into the soil. She lay back against the tree's thick trunk and closed her eyes. She could hear the thick melody of the cicada as the sun set and darkness fell over the yard. Sally sighed and looked up at the house. All those years ago, she had passed up the chance to go inside because she had had a future, but there was nothing stopping her now. She fished a flashlight out her purse and left her spot by the tree.

 

*****

 

Sally had thought for sure that the door to the huge mansion would be locked. She imagined that, in one point in time, wealthy families had lived there, so there were probably some valuables still inside, but when she tried the door, it opened with only a sharp creaking. As she walked inside, the floorboards creaked under her shoes and her flashlight made arches of light on the old walls. She walked up the steps into the main hallway and gasped. Her flashlight was useless with the huge, maze like hallways and high ceilings. The place looked even bigger on the inside than did on the outside and she felt tiny and insignificant in the face of all of it. She walked through hallway after hallway until she saw a door that was open just a crack and decided to start her exploring here. When she opened the door and went inside, her flashlight moving across the tatami and sliding closets, she gasped again, her hand flying to her mouth. She had heard stories about this place, about how people would come inside and disappear, as though they were spirited away by ghosts. It was not a splatter of blood or ghostly hand prints that had shocked her.

The room was obviously a play room. There were boxes of old toys, things from so long ago, long before gameboys and computers. There was a bright red ball in the corner of the room, big enough for a child to hold it in both hands. There was a koto in another corner, covered in dust while the ball, oddly, had none, and some of the strings were broken with age. There were pieces of paper covered in old drawings, obviously made by a small child, maybe five or six, but the paper was so old it was dark brown and curling. Tears started to run down her cheeks. If she stood there long enough, she could see the children in this room, playing together and laughing. She walked over to the red ball and picked it up. It was perfect, not a single knick or scratch on its surface and it looked brand new. She rolled it around in her hands. It was a very old fashioned sort of toy. Nowadays, kids complained if they didn't get the newest toys, but her baby had never complained. She would have loved a pretty ball like this.

Sally heard the jingle of a single bell behind her and whirled, the ball tucked against her chest and she swung her flashlight around wildly in the pitch darkness, but couldn't find the source of the lonely sound. She sighed, shaking her head and turned back around. The beam of her flashlight suddenly landed on the face of a child and she screamed, dropping the light. The flashlight clanged on the ground, but the light didn't go out. Sally watched in terror as small, pale feet, one of them with a bell and red ribbon tied to the ankle, took a few steps closer to her in the light.

Sally dove for the flashlight and managed to grab it, but when she shone it on the spot where the child had been, there was nothing. She swirled again and in the light of the flashlight, she saw the child looking up at her with violet eyes that seemed to glow like a cat's. She took a stumbling step back. The child was about seven with a beautiful, ethereal face. Long, cinnamon bangs almost completely covered the eyes. The child was wearing, oddly, a sleeveless white kimono. Sally had never heard of a child nowadays wearing a kimono or yukata unless there was a festival. She, or he, though Sally believed that it was a boy, not a girl, had on an obi the color of his eyes, but it was apparent to her why the boy was here and why he could disappear and reappear as she saw thick stains of blood across the pure white fabric and huge, gaping, bloody cuts crossed over his arms and hands, and on his neck was a horrible bruise. Bile rose in her throat. She wanted to run. A ghost… that was what she was looking at… but it was also a child. She looked at his wounds. Who would do that to a little boy? She denied her desire to run and took a step closer to the boy, who had yet to speak or disappear, he only stared at her.

“W-what do you want, honey?” she asked, kneeling down a little to keep from scaring him, ignoring the fact that it was she that was scared. The boy pointed at the ball she was holding.

“This? Is it yours?” she asked, holding out the red ball. The child nodded enthusiastically and she smiled at him. She handed it to him and the ghost took it, hugging it to his body like a cherished pet.

“Who did this to you?” she whispered, horrified as she realized that the mark on his neck was from a rope, “who hurt you?”

The boy's violet eyes stared into hers and she shuddered. There was something in those eyes, something that she couldn't place. It was fear, darkness, something insane, yet he wasn't insane… he was looking at her like any child would, eager and curious.

“Play with me,” the child said, its voice echoing off the walls, distorted like a warped record.

 

“Mommy, play with me!”

 

“What would you like to play?”

The boy smiled, but there something else behind that smile, something she couldn't understand, and ran out of the room, fading away as he reached the door.

“Wait!” she cried, “I want to help you!”

How many years had this child been here, waiting for some affection, some kind hand? Who had hurt him? What possible reason could someone have to hurt a baby like that?

Suddenly, the ceiling creaked as someone small ran on the second floor. She realized it quickly, it was tag, but not just any tag. Japanese children had a game called `Demon Tag' and her own daughter had played it as well. The person `it' was the Demon and would chase the other children. If one of them was caught by the Demon, they were considered `dead' and were brought to a designated place, usually a tree or large rock, that was labeled `hell' and that person would have to stay there for the rest of the game. She had played it with her daughter many times and now, she smiled.

“Alright, little one, I'll play.”

 

*****

 

Sally ran up the stairs after the child, tracing her steps until she was directly above the play room. She found herself in a large library, but after checking the entire place, she couldn't find the child. She opened the closet and searched inside. Instead of finding the boy, she found that the back wall was loose and pulled it aside, finding a passage to the next room and crawled through. It was another part of the library, but the boy wasn't in here, either. She tried the door, but it was locked and she realized that she had to go back out through the closet to get back to the hallway. As she turned, she heard the door behind her slide open and she whirled, seeing the brief image of the boy beyond the door before he vanished again and she took off running. She heard his footsteps below her and she made for the stairs again, having trouble finding them in the mixture of dark and confusion of the winding hallways.

Sally followed the sounds of running footsteps until it led her to a long hallway and she could hear them no more. She ran through it, her flashlight wavering crazily, throwing long shadows against the walls. She cried out in shock as a long rope touched her shoulder. High pitched laughter filled the hallway like water into a glass and she looked up, her flashlight catching the image of the boy, sitting up in one of the beams, but the image quickly vanished and she heard the footsteps far away, almost as though it was coming from another world outside of the hallway. As she ran past the ropes to the end of the hall, she felt like she had come from one point in time and ended in another with the impossible length of the hallway. She followed the footsteps to another room and flung open the door, running inside.

The room was enormous, the stairs around the square room leading up only two feet to the main part of the room, which she walked to, only to stop dead in her tracks as the flashlight illuminated the large space of tatami mats. The mats were stained with blood, not old blood, either. In the light, it was fresh and vivid.

 

“Play with me.”

 

She took a step back. Demon tag…

Horrible, insane laughter filled the room and she covered her ears to keep it out of her head. Small hands wrapped around her legs from behind her and she screamed as her flashlight dropped to the ground and went out.

 

 

*****

 

 

 

June 7, 2066

 

 

“Please… I don't want to die…”

Water surrounded him, weighing him down. The reflection of the rearview mirror burned into his eyes. He clawed at the broken window, slashing his arms and blood filled the freezing water.

Blood… why was there so much blood, stop bleeding!

 

“Please don't let them kill me!”

 

Heero awoke with the words from his dream echoing in his head and he struggled against the heavy blankets that were weighing him down, just like the water from the dream. He rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes.

 

“Please don't let them kill me!”

 

He'd been having that part of the dream for years, but now it was encroaching on his other dreams, his other nightmares. Besides his dreams, he had slept deeply last night, for the first time in a long time. He looked blearily over at the clock and calendar at his bedside table. His uncle had opened the shades to his windows some time before leaving, probably in an attempt to get him to wake up earlier, not that it had done any good. For years now, Heero had spent most of his time sleeping, living in his dreams, though he could either never remember them, or he was too scared of them to think of them too much, but he liked dreaming. Sometimes he liked it better than being awake, but last night, he hadn't dreamed very much, he had just… slept. That scared him, the loss of dreams, as though he was close to something. His friend, Quatre, would say that he was close to his soul being healed, but he didn't believe in stuff like that. In the late morning light, Heero was able to see the day calendar. It said that it was the sixth, which meant that today was the seventh, since he hadn't gotten around the tearing off yesterday's page yet. He ripped the page off.

“Fuck, June 7th,” he muttered and rolled out of bed. He hated summer, it was too damn hot in Nasue and he had too much time on his hands. Too much time to think. June 7th… today was the day. Exactly four months ago, his parents had died and left him with his uncle, Howard. The man was a bit eccentric, but kind and was doing the best he could with a guarded, closed off seventeen year old. Today was also the day that he and his friends were supposed to start working on their summer project. Every summer since he had started high school, he had had the same project: pick a historical event in Japanese history and report on it. This year, however, their old history teacher had retired and a man named Dekim from Europe had replaced him. Seeing Westerners in Japan nowadays wasn't so rare as it had been and a lot of culture and ritual had been disbanded for modern thinking, but a lot of it also remained. So, when Sensei Dekim had told his students that on the summer before they became seniors, they were to go out and explore historical landmarks in Nasue, both Heero and his friends had been relieved. They still had to do research, but it wouldn't be as stuffy and distant as researching things like World War II. Heero, for one, wasn't looking forward to his senior year at all. He had lived his entire life in Nasue with his parents and didn't want to leave. His life and everything he loved was in this town. His friends talked about how great the future was going to be, but all he heard was that he would no longer be able to see them and it would probably be only during the summer that he could come back home. His councilors were upset that he hadn't chosen any colleges yet and his parents had fought with him about it constantly, but he still wasn't ready to part with his home.

Heero walked into the kitchen and put some toast in the toaster. He looked to the side and saw his parents' picture staring at him. He put it faced down and looked away. It was so hard to imagine that they were gone. It was one of those things he had though would always be there. He felt so lonely and distant from everyone. He felt separate and strange, as though he didn't belong in the world. Still, he loved his friends and if there was anyone in the world that he still felt connected to, it was them.

 

*****

 

Relena Darlian was an early riser, always had been, since she was a child. That trait had been instilled in her mother who had always tried to make her a `proper lady'. Relena wasn't sure if her inability to sleep past eight made her a proper lady, but since she had so much to do today, it was definitely a good thing. The Darlian family had been an English family of nobility until her uncle had been involved with a scandal involving a prostitution ring and her father had made the decision to move out of Europe, away from the publicity, since he didn't want his children to be marked by it. Relena had hated him for moving them all to Japan. It was a far cry to the prestige and class that she had been used to, but when she had met Heero Yuy and his friends, that had changed. She had fallen for the boy, hard, and had made quick friends. Her brother, Zechs, on the other hand, had always hated being in the spotlight and had flourished much quicker than she had. It was her brother who had introduced her to Heero and it was Zechs who had befriended him first. Zechs was two years older than her, but had settled for helping the family than going to college and Relena knew that he would help her and their friends out when they started to work on their project. So, when she had finally gotten an idea, she went running to him.

“Zechs!” she called in perfect Japanese, though a little bit of her English accent broke through, “where are you?”

She ran downstairs after looking in her brother's room, which was neat, as always, but also homey. One thing that annoyed her about her brother, despite the fact that he had always been better liked by everyone, was that, even his Japanese was better than hers, he was capable of letting go of his English heritage and settle into their life. It had been six years since they had moved to Japan, but she hadn't been able to give up where she had come from and that made her miserable at times.

“Relena, stop shouting,” Zechs grumbled as she found him in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table reading the newspaper. Both of their parents were gone for the day and Zechs didn't have to work, which meant he would probably spend the day reading and watching TV unless she made him do something. She grinned at him.

“But I have great news!”

Zechs rolled his light blue eyes.

“Fine, `Lena, what is it?” he said patiently. It wasn't often that his little sister was this enthusiastic.
“I found where we should do our project!” she said, very proud, “Remember those stories dad used to tell us about the Matsuei Mansion?”

Zechs' eyes widened.

“Relena, you can't be serious, the Haunted Mansion? Isn't that a bit… dangerous?” he asked. Relena snorted.

“Oh, please, don't tell me you actually believe all that!” she scoffed.

“No, I'm not afraid of ghosts, I'm afraid of you or one of your friends falling through the floor and hurting yourselves in a place that has no cell service!” he pointed out. “I told you I'd help with your project, but even my phone doesn't work up that path.”

“But it's the perfect place!” Relena protested, “If there's any history in this stupid little town, it's up there! We can do the research today at the library and spend the night there tomorrow. You know, exploring, maybe there will even be some artifacts in the house! It'll be informative and fun!” she said excitedly, “Besides, I'm sure that Quatre's father will give him his global phone and it's not like we're in space or anything. Even without a phone, one of us can just run back into town to get help.”

Zechs sighed.

“Fine, I do admit that it sounds more interesting than the harbor or monument. I'll call Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei. Knowing Trowa and Quatre, they're probably together at Trowa's right now anyway,” Zechs said with a smirk. Relena frowned. She didn't approve of homosexual relationships, but it wasn't her business, so she tolerated her friends' romance. They did make a cute couple, the petit blonde and the tall brunette, if only Quatre had been born a girl… Relena was immediately glad that Zechs had offered to talk to Wufei. They didn't get along as well as she got along with the others. He hated how she acted around his best friend, Heero, and her feelings towards Quatre and Trowa, but they were still friends. Still, Relena hated talking to Wufei on the phone because he always talked flatly and she could never tell if he was making fun of her or not.

“You can deal with Yuy, if he's awake by now,” Zechs grumbled. He had made friends with Heero easily when they had first moved here. Heero's parents' bakery had been close to their house and he had been the first person that Zechs had talked to when they had arrived in Nasue. It had been hard the last few months dealing with Heero. After his parents' deaths, he had become more withdrawn and despondent than ever, but Zechs was resolved to help him through it. He was glad to see that at least Heero's sleeping habits hadn't changed. Heero Yuy was the most straight laced, responsible person he had ever met, but had the habit of sleeping in as late as he could get away with. He picked up the phone and dialed Wufei's number first.

 

*****

 

Chang Wufei limped towards the phone as it rang. He had moved to Nasue with his father four years ago because of a death in the family that had hit everyone hard. His father had wanted to put the past behind them, but even Wufei knew that you couldn't bury the past, it was a part of who you were. His mother had wanted Wufei to go through therapy and stay in China, but his father had been adamant that a change of scenery would be better. Wufei had been dealing with his limp for only a year because of a car accident where he had received a concussion, three broken ribs, and broken leg that still plagued him now. His limp wasn't too bad, but it did make it impossible for him to be an athlete, which suited him just fine. He preferred books to baseballs anyway. Today, his father was at the drug store where he worked and he had been spending his morning reading the paper. Though he lived in a small town, he liked to keep up with the rest of the world. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if he had staid in China. When he had first moved, he had hated his father for it. He wanted to stay with his family and work through their mutual grief, but now he didn't mind it as much. Japan was still a strange place to him, but he had friends now and they made his life here worthwhile. The next year of school would be very important for all of them since they would be graduating and going to college soon. Wufei knew that he wanted to be a doctor, but not all of his friends were so sure. Relena was still indecisive, but wanted to go back to England for college and just decide as she went along. Zechs would continue to stay here and help his family. Quatre and Trowa were going to stay together, which Wufei envied them for at the same time that he was happy for them. They were the type of people that were born for each other. Looking at them, he couldn't imagine them apart. They were going to attend the same college in America, much to Quatre's father frustration. Quatre came from a family of oil tycoons and would be picking up after his father. His father knew of his son's relationship with another boy and had, surprisingly, not cared. His only concern was continuing the family line and Quatre had so many sisters that it didn't matter what Quatre did, though only a boy could continue the business. He managed to convince his father that he would go as planned after college, but for now he wanted to enjoy his independence for as long as he could. Trowa wanted to be a vet after living for so many years among circus animals as a child in France. Heero, on the other hand, had no such ambition. He hadn't even chosen a school yet! Wufei couldn't understand his best friend, he was so smart, but so connected to this tiny town for some reason. He shook his head and answered the phone.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Wufei, Relena thinks she's found a place for your project,” he heard Zechs say. Wufei raised one ebony eyebrow.

“Really? Quatre will be glad to hear that. He's been worrying about it since school ended.”

“How about Matsuei Mansion?” Zechs asked. Wufei's hand tightened on the phone.

“Your sister wants us to go walking around a house that hasn't been occupied in over two centuries?” Wufei looked down at his leg worriedly, “Zechs… you know I can't walk up that path, it's too long and too steep for me.”

“Don't worry. You and I will be taking my Jeep up there before the others and we won't make you run around the house,” Zechs assured him, his voice soft.

“Alright,” Wufei agreed, “it sounds interesting. I'm sure that there's plenty of history in that place.”

Zechs had to smile at the excitement in his friend's voice. If there was one thing Wufei loved, it was history.

“We're going to go to the library at one today to do some research. I'll pick you up, ok?”

“No problem,” Wufei said and hung up.

 

*****

 

“Mm, Trowa, no,” Quatre moaned loudly as his lover sucked lightly on his pale neck. His hands gripped at Trowa's strong shoulders as the green eyed boy nipped his fair skin. Trowa smirked against Quatre's neck, loving the sound of the blonde's moans.

“You're so cute,” Trowa murmured, rubbing his hand against the hardness in his lover's slacks, making Quatre choke on his moan.

“I love you so much.”

Quatre widened his aqua blue eyes at the taller boy's words.

“Oh, Trowa,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Trowa and kissing him sweetly.

Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton had moved to Nasue ten years ago from the Middle East and France, respectively. They had met on the plane to Tokyo and had been best friends ever since. After the death of Trowa's parents in the middle of a gang fight, Trowa's uncle Trowa, whom he had been named after, had taken him to rural Japan for fresh mountain air and safety. Trowa didn't remember too much about his parents and had settled in with his uncle fairly well. Quatre's father had had a scare due to corporate espionage and worried that his only son would become a target for rival companies so had whisked the two of them off to Nasue as well. When they were thirteen, they discovered that they had a mutual attraction for each other and had been dating ever since.

The two boys groaned in annoyance as the phone rang and Trowa quickly picked it up.

“Hello? Yeah, this is Trowa. No, that sounds fine. We'll meet you there in an hour, then. Bye, Zechs,” Trowa hung up.

“What was that about?” Quatre asked, cocking his head to the side. Trowa ran a hand through his long, jagged bangs.

“Apparently, we're doing our school report on the Matsuei Mansion. Should be interesting. We have to meet them in the library in an hour,” Trowa told him. Quatre paled.

“M-Matsuei Mansion?” Quatre stammered, terrified.

For as long as Quatre could remember, he could see, hear, and feel things that other people couldn't. His father didn't believe him when he told him that he could see spirits and auras until his mother had died. He had told his father that there was a dark shadow following her and he was sure that she was going to die. The next day, she was hit by a car. When he went to the cemetery for her funeral, he had been assaulted by so many things that he ended up in the hospital. He had been very careful since then to stay away from any places where people had died or were known to be haunted, places like Matsuei Mansion.

“Trowa, I can't go to that place!” Quatre protested. Trowa hugged him tightly.

“Don't worry, love, I'll protect you,” Trowa said with a smile. Quatre couldn't help but smile back. His lover knew all about his… abilities and had never teased him about them. He also felt safe from his visions when Trowa was around. He supposed that that was the power of love.

“Now, where were we…”

 

*****

 

Relena sighed as her friends poured over old newspaper articles and folklorist notes. Heero was helping Quatre with the newspaper machine and didn't seem to notice her sigh. He was so cute, she thought, those intense blue eyes, that thick, messy chocolate locks… but he was so aloof. They were friends, but it was like he didn't even know that she was a woman.

“Oh, that's so sad,” Quatre murmured as he and Heero found another article on the mansion.

“What is it?” Wufei asked, limping towards them.

“So far we've found at least 143 recorded deaths,” Heero said. Quatre nodded.

“I had no idea that this town had so many disappearances,” Wufei murmured, “but what is that one?” he pointed to one of the articles Heero had pulled up.

“In 1982, a New Year's party was thrown in the Matsuei Mansion. By morning, a fire had killed all twenty-six people. The origin of the fire was never discovered, but firefighters believed that a paper lantern caught fire. The flames were contained and never left the house and the house itself wasn't damaged in any way. The fire burned so hot that the only remains of the twenty-six dead were dust and ashes,” Quatre read, feeling fear fill his heart. So many dead and in such horrible ways… one of the bodies found up on that path had been literally torn apart. Were they really thinking of going into that place?

“That's impossible,” Wufei said skeptically, “no fire that is that hot will leave a structure of wood untouched!”

Heero shrugged.

“That's what the newspaper says.”

Zechs collected the laminated newspapers and books they had found.

“I'm going to ask the librarian to photocopy these. I think we have enough facts for your essays,” he said. Relena cheered.

“Finally, the boring part is over!”

Trowa rolls his eyes.

“We still have to write the report, you know,” he reminded her.

“Oh, we can do that after we explore the place!” she brushed him off, “We should go up there first thing in the morning!”

“I have to agree,” Quatre said, refusing to let his fear over his psychic abilities to destroy this for the rest of his friends, “we should go around seven. Trowa and I will get a phone from my father and food. Relena can collect flashlights. Wufei can take care of the first aid kit, just in case, and Heero can bring notepads for all of us and Zechs will get the house maps.”

“Eleven,” Heero interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. Quatre blinked at him and narrowed his eyes.

“Heero…”

“I'm not getting up at seven!”

“Fine, eight, then!”

“Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Fine,” Heero grumbled, ignoring Relena's giggling. Trowa and Wufei watched this in amusement.

“Are you done yet?” Trowa asked dryly. Heero glared at him.

“Nine it is, then,” Quatre said with a grin. “I expect all of you to be on time!”

The other four nodded at him as Zechs came back with the copies.

 

*****

 

 

Despite Heero grumblings, he showed up at the gate to the Matsuei Mansion promptly at nine, though his eyes were half lidded. Oddly, he hadn't slept at all last night. He had stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. There was a fine fog as Relena, Trowa, Quatre, and Heero walked up the forest path together. They continuously heard the incessant hooting of an owl in the thick settling of trees. However, by the time they had reached the top of the path and saw the house looming darkly in their sights, the day had turned hot and the fog had lifted. Quatre and Relena gasped as they saw the house.

“It's huge!” Relena managed to choke out. Trowa nodded, but Heero could only stare. His heart pounded as he saw the mansion. It was so… beautiful. Old, but perfectly kept, at least on the outside. He could almost imagine the type of people that could have lived here so long ago.

Zechs and Wufei were waiting for them as they slipped through the huge gate.

“Oh, what pretty trees!” Relena exclaimed as she saw the front yard with its cherry trees and stone garden. Quatre nodded. He felt ok so far. Maybe Wufei was right and this whole thing was just ridiculous.

“Have you gone inside yet?” Trowa asked Wufei who shook his head.

“I hope the door's open,” Quatre mentioned. The rest of them groaned.

“I should have thought of that,” Zechs grumbled, helping hand out the supplies to each of them. Quatre felt a little bit of his fear ebb away when he held the flashlight in his hand.

Zechs stared up at the house and shivered. He was the oldest and he knew that he had to take charge, but there was a part of him, deep down, that really didn't want to open that door. He looked around at the others and found that fear in their eyes, too. It was stupid, they didn't believe in ghosts, at least Zechs, Relena, and Wufei didn't, but there was still that fear of the unknown. They all watched in shock as Heero stepped forward and opened the door.

 

*****

 

Heero wasn't sure why he did it. He was just as scared of the house, but there was a deep, dark part of himself that wanted to go inside very badly.

“It's so cold,” Relena murmured as she entered, “It's so… scary.”

Quatre shivered. It had been so hot outside, but in here, it was cool. He stepped into the main hallway and his heart immediately started to pound. His whole body clenched, telling him to flee, to run before it was too late, but he couldn't move, he was paralyzed on the spot. There was something horribly wrong, every sense he had, both normal and supernatural, was telling him that this place was wrong down to the planks of wood they walked on. He shivered again, harshly and his eyes clouded over as he stared into the shadows, a scream on his tongue, his eyes seeing, yet not really seeing. Trowa saw his lover pause while their friends continued into the house and start to shake.

“Quatre, what's wrong?” he whispered, putting a hand on the blonde's arm and his vision faded to black.

 

*****

 

Trowa's vision came back to him. He and Quatre were standing in a long hallway with long ropes hanging from the rafters. Quatre bumped into him as he backed away and Trowa saw why. A beautiful young boy with long chestnut hair was hanging in front of them, one of the ropes around his neck, blood dripping down his feet and hands, pattering lightly on the floor. The vision wavered, like a broken TV set and Trowa almost fell back as a shard of mirror collided with the floor in front of him. The vision of the hanging boy wavered in and out with another of a small boy, also with long brown hair, almost completely covered in blood, laughing so insanely that Trowa felt like screaming. He covered his hands as the laughter seared into his brain.

`Stop it, stop it, stop laughing!' he screamed in his head.

Quatre panted, tears streaming down his cheeks as he saw the boy, too, with hundreds of bodies at his feet.

“No…” he whispered. The boy stopped laughing and stared at him, his eyes cold and glowing and quite insane. Trowa grabbed at Quatre's hand as the vision seemed to crack and half and they were seeing the blood soaked boy at the same time as they saw the older boy that had been hanging in the hallway, but he was alive now, kneeling on the floor in front of them, wearing the white, blood soaked kimono that the other visions had had. The boy was sobbing, his body shaking with his agony and Quatre could see horrible slashes on his arms.

“Please… come for me… don't leave me alone again! It's so dark…”

 

*****

 

Quatre and Trowa gasped as one as they were suddenly thrown out of the vision by an invisible force, still holding each other's hand tightly. Relena looked back at them with an odd expression.

“What's wrong?” Zechs asked. Quatre shook his head, but he was pale enough that he looked like a ghost himself.

“N-no, we're fine,” he insisted and the others continued into the maze of hallways. Trowa looked at his lover in concern.

“Quatre… what was that?”

“I'm so sorry,” Quatre cried quietly, “you shouldn't have seen that, I'm so sorry.”

Trowa smiled at him and hugged him tightly.

“It's ok. You shouldn't be here.”

Quatre smiled back.

“No, it's alright. It was just a vision… it wasn't… real. I just have to keep my cool,” he assured Trowa. The two of them followed their friends, but their minds were elsewhere.

 

*****

 

Heero put a hand on Relena's shoulder as she shivered again, though he couldn't tell if it was in fear or the cold.

“It's just a little dark and we brought jackets if it gets too cold,” Heero tried to comfort her, but he wasn't used to it and felt useless trying to do it. She smiled at him brightly anyway and tried to hold his hand, but he continued into the house. The group flicked on their flashlights and walked into the first hallway.

“It's so beautiful,” Heero whispered, not realizing that he had spoken out loud and put a hand on the wall. The house was old, but felt a bit comforting to him. It was still creepy, the little creaks and groans and the way that the shadows seemed to move on their own, but it was the sort of place that should have been preserved by the town's historical society, not left to grow old and die up on a hill somewhere. The hallways here were like literal mazes with so many guest rooms that it would have been impossible without the house plans for them to navigate. Past at least five of these rooms was an open door and on the plans it said that it was a play room. Heero felt an almost magnetic pull to the room and Relena followed closely behind her as he opened the shoji door.

 

*****

 

Heero froze as he entered the room, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering, but couldn't feel Relena shivering behind him. It was so cold in here and he felt an intense shudder travel down his spine. Why was he so cold? Heero smiled as Relena placed a warm hand on his shoulder and he placed his hand over hers.

“I'm fine,” he assured her.

Relena didn't seem to hear him as she walked past him into the room. Heero's eyes widened and the color drained from his face. The hand under his was small, soft, and slender, but his fingers could feel imperfections on the skin, like scars. He whirled, hearing the sweet, beautiful chime of a bell, but there was nothing behind him. He stood there, shaken to the core, panting, as the others caught up with them.

“What's wrong, Heero?” Quatre asked, half suspicious, half concerned.

“It's nothing,” the Japanese boy brushed it off and followed Relena into the room. He was just tired and creeped out by the old place. That was no reason to go off the deep end. In the darkness, his flashlight hit on a bright red ball amongst the other toys in the room and his gut clenched for some reason.

“For a playroom, it sure is creepy in here,” Zechs muttered, “who has the map anyway?”

“I do,” Heero said, handing it over to Zechs. Relena bent down at one of the toy chests and rummaged through it, piling dolls and puzzles on the floor.

“Relena, don't touch that!” Heero snarled at her. Relena stared at him with wide eyes, deeply hurt.

“Heero, who cares?”

“I do,” he snapped, “show some respect.”

Relena abandoned the box, giving Heero a seething look. Zechs raised an eyebrow at him.

“You know, Heero's right. We're not here to rummage, we're here to get a feel for this place. Just because no one lives here anymore doesn't mean we can just go through people's past personal effects. Now, there's some places we should definitely check out. There's this really long stretch of hallway called the `Hanging Hallway'.”

Quatre and Trowa shared a look and tightened their grips on each other's hands.

“According to the map, it's over a mile long,” Zechs continued, “It wasn't even on the plans until the notes of a professor were found in 2003 in which he talked about the hallway and drew where it was in the house. There's the courtyard, though there's not much out there but the old well and some flowers. There's the Leisure Room where the Matsuei family used to celebrate all sorts of occasions, that was where that New Year's party was held, too. It's also the biggest single room in the house. There's the main family bedroom's on the second floor and a workshop on this floor.”

“This place is so cool,” Relena said, “Let's go to the workshop!”

As the group left the playroom, Heero looked back at the red ball, sitting lonely in a corner and rubbed at the place where the hand had touched him.

 

 

*****

 

“One of the Matsuei men who lived here made dolls for the children,” Zechs informed them as they walked through the hallway.

“I know it's a bit obvious, but this place is really, really creepy,” Relena said, looking around at every shadowed corner in the hallway and wincing at the creaking floorboards, “I mean, why hasn't anyone filmed a horror movie in here or something?”

Wufei rolled his eyes behind her, his game leg making the floorboards creak even louder. Quatre gasped as their flashlights caught onto a gaping hole in the side wall next to the door to the workshop that allowed them to see into the room. The posts that had supported the wall were curled outward like claws and the hole looked like something of tremendous force had blown out of the room.

“Did a bomb go off in here or something?” Trowa wondered out loud.

“No,” Zechs said, his eyes narrowing in confusion, “there isn't any explosive force in the entire world that can bend posts like that.”

Relena searched her brother's face as Wufei furiously scribbled in his notebook. She felt uneasy looking at the hole. According to Zechs, it shouldn't exist and that bothered her. They walked past the hole and pushed open the door.

There were shards of the workshop bench were all over the room and there were several dismembered dolls strewn about in the corners, but the most gruesome were the red and black haired dolls that were hanging by ropes around their necks from the ceiling.

“That's horrible,” Relena whispered.

“They're just dolls,” Wufei snorted and the blonde girl glared at him.

“It's grotesque!”

Heero stared at the hanging dolls and felt an intense pain stab in his head. He rubbed at the scars on his wrists and started to back out of the room. This place… it was wrong. He didn't need to see ghosts to feel that. He left his friends in the room and opened the door to the adjacent guest room. He couldn't stay in the workshop. Relena was right, it was grotesque, this whole place was grotesque. Hundreds of people had died here! He kept the shoji door open so he could keep an eye on his friends. The worst thing he could think of happening was being alone in this place. The guest room was very plane and reminded Heero of his own room. There was a sliding closet, an old, moth eaten futon, a low table, and some bookshelves. Near the closet was a body length mirror. Oddly, none of the mirrors in this place had a speck of dust on them. He walked towards the closet and opened it. He sighed. It was empty, not that he would suspect anything different. He loved this old house. It was beautiful, though a bit big and lonely. It was one of the reasons why he never wanted to move away from Nasue, there were just so many good things here. Even though the house made him feel wrong, he loved it anyway. As he closed the closet, he caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned towards the mirror.

His flashlight flickered as it tried, feebly, to get a read on what his own eyes were seeing. On the other side of the mirror was the most beautiful boy Heero had ever seen. His long, chestnut hair was wrapped in a braid that was draped over his thin shoulder. The boy was wearing a bloodstained kimono and, Heero mentally winced, his snowy skin was slashed open on his arms. His violet eyes stared at Heero and the Japanese boy felt tears forming in his own at the darkness, loneliness, and anguish he saw there. He ached to touch him at the same time that it felt like his soul was ripping apart. The boy's mouth moved, but he couldn't make out the words.

“Who are you?” he murmured. The boy touched the glass of the mirror, his fingers pressed against it. Heero smiled at him, his heart pounding with the need to touch that slender hand. He followed the boy's move, placing his fingertips over the other boy's, the thin glass the only thing separating the two of them.

Heero cried out as the mirror cracked, slicing his hand open. Blood splattered onto the floor and when he looked back at the mirror, the boy was gone.

 

*****

 

As Zechs and Relena explored the workshop, Quatre watched as Heero reappeared, looking pale and shaken. He gave him a searing look. Something was going on with his friend, more than the cold and the creepiness of the house, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Heero was usually so composed to the point of being stoic, but as soon as he had come here, he had been acting strange.

Relena grabbed Heero's hand and dragged him out of the workshop, but continued to be despondent, his mind a mile away. Heero didn't believe in ghosts, even as a child. He had always been a practical person, so why had he seen it? He hadn't wanted to, and yet… that boy… he looked so sad, Heero wanted to help him. He stared at the slash on the palm of his hand. The wound was nothing compared to what that boy had had on his skin, but it stung and felt heavy, as though it was infected with something dark and horrible. Was it possible that he had done it to himself? Still, despite that he wanted to pretend that it hadn't been real, he couldn't. That boy had been as real as the wood under his feet. He fingered the cut, feeling blood soak his fingertips. The pain was comforting for some reason.

Relena smiled in the dark, Heero hand wonderfully warm in hers. In the past, she had done everything except for jumping in bed with him to get him to notice her, but she felt like a ghost beside him, unnoticed, invisible, less than living. She had never given up hope, but it was hard. Heero was just so aloof and in the years that she had known him, he had never shown an interest in anyone, girl or boy. Sometimes she wondered if he was simply asexual, but it was nice to hold hands with him like this, even if he didn't see anything romantic behind it.

 

*****

 

Quatre clenched at his chest as they walked down the hallway, fear and chill gripping at his heart. The air was so heavy, it was hard to breathe. Long, whitish arms reached for them out of the walls, hundreds of arms… he shivered. They had been following them down the hallway since they had left the workshop. There were huge soot marks on the walls. As they walked, the soot grew and grew in size, taking the forms of what looked like people's shadows. The soot moved on the walls like something alive, bulging out of the wall. He cried out as the soot forms reared from the wall to try to grab at him, but they were tethered by long trails of soot to the wall, even as they struggled to free themselves from the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, all of his friends were looking at him with concern.

“There's something bad here,” he told them, “I can feel it. We shouldn't be here!”

Relena sighed.

“Not that psychic mumbo jumbo again, Quatre!” she scolded, “There's no such thing as ghosts or bad omens, I mean, no one else has seen anything, have they?”

Heero looked away, paling a little. Quatre caught his look.

“I believe him,” Trowa said, giving Quatre's arm a little squeeze.

“For once I'll have to agree with Relena,” Wufei said, “There's nothing here but cobwebs and dust.”

Quatre ignored them. The soot ghosts weren't going away. His ability showed him the wavering phantoms of people scrubbing at the marks on the walls over and over, but the soot wouldn't go away. The soot would swallow up anything that got too close, but for now, they stayed rooted. He knew, somehow, that they were the ghosts of the victims of the people from the fire and also realized that this wasn't just a vision because both the arms and the soot didn't go away, even when he closed and reopened his eyes.

Relena gasped as they entered the Leisure Room. It was a huge room with a few stairs leading up to the tatami floor. She could imagine an elegant party in this room, but as they walked up the stairs, her delighted gasp turned to one of shock as they saw the thick blood stains on the tatami. Quatre and Heero quickly left, Trowa following them. Quatre hung his head as they left the room.

“This place is wrong,” Heero said, “but that's why it's important to do research here, to find out its history, but if it bothers you that much…”

Quatre shook his head.

“I know that history is important, not just for our grades, either, and this is a part of the town, and what I've been seeing are probably just echoes, but I can't help but feel scared.”

Relena, Wufei, and Zechs looked concerned as they followed the other three.

“Even if you're scared, these things happened in the past,” Wufei assured Quatre, “they can't hurt you now.”

“I keep seeing strange and terrible things in this house,” Quatre murmured, giving Heero a searching look, “you have, too.”

Heero's eyes widened and he looked away. Relena laughed.

“I know you're superstitious, Quatre, and reading all those stories about this place couldn't have helped, but Heero isn't like that. People disappear all the time, especially in the woods, it doesn't mean anything.”

“I did see something,” Heero interrupted, looking at Quatre, “a boy in a mirror wearing a white kimono, stained with blood.”

Trowa and Quatre looked at each other in alarm.

“We saw the same thing.”

Wufei frowned.

“Well, we haven't seen anything,” he looked at Zechs and Relena for confirmation and they nodded. “Isn't possible that you're just mistaken.”

Heero showed them his still bleeding hand.

“Oh, Heero!” Relena cried, rummaging in her bag for the first aid kit, “Why didn't you tell us you had hurt yourself?”

“I didn't hurt myself!” Heero snapped, annoyed with her tone, “I touched the mirror and it cracked! Yes, people disappear all the time, but not hundreds of people in one area,” he pointed out. Wufei sighed.

“Ok, I can accept Quatre seeing dead people, but Heero? We've all seen Quatre in his `fits' but Heero doesn't have a psychic bone in his body!”

“What about the accident?” Trowa asked.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” he said defensively.

“Wait, that is true, you almost died,” Zechs said, “if it hadn't been for that broken window, you would have died. You almost died anyway because of the water in your lungs.”

Heero glared at him.

“So my father drove the car into a pond. They died, I didn't, give it a rest!”

“But that may explain why you're seeing things,” Quatre tried to explain, “you told me that you felt alone in the hospital, dealing with their death and knowing that you could have joined them.

“I felt lonely before their deaths,” Heero admitted in a soft voice, “I've felt lonely my entire life.”

“Oh, Heero,” Relena murmured softly.

“It doesn't matter what I see or if this place is haunted. We have a report to write, unless anyone wants to leave and do it on something else?” Heero offered, even as, deep inside, he didn't want to leave. At the very least, he wanted to learn the ghost's name. He didn't like the feeling of being haunted.

“Of course we're not going to leave,” Relena said, “Ghosts are exciting! Still, I don't believe in them and you're not helping by feeding into Quatre's delusions.”

Heero ignored her. He didn't believe that Quatre was delusional, he never had, but he still didn't want to believe that he had seen a spirit.

“Alright, stop bickering,” Zechs ordered, “It's almost lunch time. Let's head to the second floor and pick out guest rooms for ourselves. We can have something to eat and check out the rooms up there and settle in for tonight to go over what we've found. Personally, I'm interested in the Hanging Hallway. We'll check that out and the courtyard tomorrow,” he said, ever the voice of reason. Quatre shrugged. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the night in this place, but Heero was right. He had known the risks of settling for this place. He knew that he could just leave and do his report elsewhere, but that would just make him feel miserable anyway. Still, he grabbed onto Trowa's sleeve as they walked down the hallway, the image of the blood stained tatami and the child standing in the middle of the room laughing insanely that had been there for only a second, was seared in his mind.

 

*****

 

They all looked at the old stairs with worry. It didn't look sturdy at all and the last thing they wanted was for someone to fall through them and break a leg. Relena and Wufei fought about who should test the stairs and if they should draw straws, but Zechs decided that, as the heaviest, he should try to see if the stairs were strong enough to support all of them. Everyone held their breath as the longhaired man took his first step on the stair. The wood creaked and a small layer of dust drifted down, but the wood didn't waver or splinter and they breathed in relief. Quatre was relieved to find that the walls on the second floor didn't have anything on or coming out of them and felt his headache start to ease off. According to the house plans, the rooms on the second floor belonged to the higher levels of the Matsuei family, the Master, his wife or mistress, his siblings, and their children. In the long, main hallway, they spotted a door that was different than the others, the wood a deep red instead of a dark brown, and they went inside.

Heero immediately felt ill, heavy and pained, when he entered, though he couldn't figure out why. The room was bigger than the guest rooms downstairs and there wasn't anything unusual about it with one exception: every room they had gone into, and every hallway, had had a mirror, except for this one. There wasn't even a small hand mirror. The room seemed to be frozen in time. The futon looked slept in, as though someone had left in a hurry and hadn't bothered to fix it, chopsticks had been strewn hastily, and the closet was wide open, the sheets and kimonos also tossed around.

“How pretty!” Relena exclaimed, spotting a paper lantern by the futon that had little butterflies cut out of it. There was a large window with wooden bars horizontal and vertical that let the sun shine into the room, so they turned off their flashlights. Zechs picked up one of the kimonos on the floor and Heero froze when he saw that it was pure white, violet obis intermingled with the kimonos.

“Looks like it was meant to fit a boy,” Zechs said, looking at Heero, but Heero refused to rise to the bait. He opened one of the jewelry boxes on top of the cabinet near the closet. There were no rings, just silken red ribbons that had probably been used as hair ties. In the top drawer were several journals that were too old to read except for one name: Matsuei Duo. He looked over at the white kimonos.

`Is that your name?' he wondered. Somehow, it seemed right.

“Is this his room?” Quatre murmured.

“Hey, check this out,” Wufei called from the other side of the room. He was kneeling in front of a long stretch of wooden lattice that only rose a few feet off the floor. Relena made a disgusted face as he discovered that he could slide it open as a door and shone his flashlight into the dark crawlspace.

“I am not going in there!” she pouted.

“Oh, come on, `Lena, live a little!” her brother teased and he leaned down next to Wufei. “It looks like there's some stairs here.”

“A secret passageway?” Quatre said excitedly. Despite his fear, the small child inside of him poked his head out at the thought of secret rooms and tunnels.

“There's probably spiders and rats in there!” Relena protested.

“I'll go first,” Trowa offered.

“Are you sure?” Quatre asked, worried for his lover's safety. Trowa nodded.

“I'm not afraid of rats,” the tall boy said with a smile. The lattice made a loud creaking noise as the pulled it back the rest of the way and Trowa slipped inside, the rest of them following with Relena hesitantly at the back.

The inside of the wall wasn't much to write home about, just a long stairwell that led to a small door, something that was more suited to a ten year old than an adult and the five seventeen year olds and nineteen year old would have to bend down to get through it.

“Is this supposed to be an attic?” Trowa wondered as he started up the steps.

“But the door is so small…” Relena mentioned, “Oh! Maybe it's a special playroom!”

“I doubt it,” Zechs said, “those kimonos weren't for a kid. I don't think that this place has anything to do with the room it's connected to. It could be an attic.”

The small door had a heavy padlock on it, but it had rusted all the way through and Trowa managed to open the door easily, but struggled to get his tall form through.

“Fuck,” Quatre heard Trowa say before he ducked to enter the room.

 

*****

 

The room was small and gruesome. Inside of the room was a box shaped area that was cornered off by thick wood that crisscrossed, creating a small prison.

“It's a cell,” Zechs noted somberly. Quatre covered his mouth with a hand as he saw the small door to the cell.

“That's horrible,” Relena murmured, “the newspaper didn't say anything about a prison.”

Heero approached the cell door with a heavy heart. His muscles ached, but he leaned down to try the lock anyway and found that this lock had rusted through also.

“It's for a child, not a criminal,” Heero said. Relena looked at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“That's not possible, Heero!”

Heero opened the small door and kneeled inside.

“Then why are there toys and why is the door so small?”

The others followed him and saw that he was right, the room had dolls and teddy bears and books for children. It would have looked like a proper play room if it weren't for the bars surrounding them and the pair of manacles locked onto the floor by thick chains.

“This is sick,” Quatre whispered. Heero picked up a worn journal on the low table in the middle of the room. It was in slightly better shape than the other one he had found and he was able to make out a few things: the name `Matsuei Duo' and the last few lines, some in between too blurry for him to read.

 

“It is so lonely here. I can hear the wind moving downstairs. It will not even reach me. I am truly alone…

 

… I know that it is inevitable, but I am afraid to die.”

 

 

Heero felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of the ghost he had seen living up here, the thought of those thick, iron manacles around his thin, pale ankles. He closed the book and put it back, not wanting the others to read the words. He felt that it was too personal and felt weird that he had read them. His heart was pounding too fast and he felt on the verge of a panic attack. He had never felt like this before, even with the news that his parents had died in the accident, leaving him all alone.

“His name is Duo,” he announced to the room, “I know that much.”

Relena and Wufei gave him searching looks, but Quatre nodded and Trowa and Zechs seemed to accept this.

“Did he live here?” Quatre wondered, “In this cell?” he shuddered as the image of the hanging boy came back to him.

“I don't know,” Heero confessed, “I don't think so. I think he lived downstairs, but at some point, I think he came here.”

Zechs sighed heavily. This was more than he could hope for, a house with a very dark history, but he didn't really want it like this. He didn't blame Quatre and Heero for scaring so easily, ghosts or not, just standing in this room, he could imagine hearing voices as well.

“Let's get out of here,” he prodded.

 

*****

 

The group of six picked out one of the large rooms to work and sleep in and settled in for lunch. Trowa had brought sandwiches and bentos and two large thermoses of green tea and iced coffee with several bottles of water in a cooler. Zechs and Heero were unbearable without coffee and Wufei and Quatre refused to drink anything but water or tea. Relena made a small derisive comment about there not being any Darjeeling, but she let it go and settled for water. She was especially excited about visiting the Master's bedroom. She talked about all through lunch about how opulent and beautiful it would be, but became quickly disappointed to find that it was locked and they couldn't get the door open. They backtracked to the other rooms they had visited and wrote notes about anything they found interesting before conjoining back into `their' room for the night. They had quickly discovered that no one had installed up to date bathrooms. There were no showers, no toilets, but there were some ways of bathing and `going to the bathroom', though nothing from this century. Relena immediately had the desire to take a shower after the long hike up the forest path and all the dusty things they had been touching and weighed going two days without washing with taking an archaic bath, but her hatred of filth won out and she excused herself with the small tube of travel shampoo she had brought with her.

As they looked over their notes and talked about everything they had seen, Quatre absently scratched at his shoulder while Wufei squirmed uncomfortable from, what everyone assumed was from his leg. Heero felt bad about having him go up two flights of stairs with his game leg. The boys all flinched as one as they heard Relena scream.

“Relena!” Zechs jumped to his feet, ready to save his sister, but she beat him to the punch, running into the room dressed in clean clothes, but she was soaked, her hair still having soap in it.

“What is this?!” she cried, showing them a gash on her arm. Despite the fact that it was slowly bleeding, it wasn't very deep and mostly just burned and itched, but it was startling on her fair skin. Zechs touched her arm, examining the wound. Quatre watched all of this with wide, fearful eyes.

“How did this happen?” Zechs demanded.

“I don't know,” Relena whispered, “I mean, I've been scratching on it for a few minutes now, but I didn't notice it until I got into the shower!”

With a shaky hand Quatre drew his t-shirt over his shoulder and Relena gasped as she saw a similar gash on his shoulder.

“T-that's not possible!” she cried.

“It started a little while ago, it just itched, then it started to burn and ache,” Quatre said in a shocked voice, poking at the bleeding wound. The others looked at each other and started to search. Wufei found a gash on his leg, Zechs on his collarbone, and Trowa on the top of his foot. The only one that hadn't found anything was Heero.

“What is going on?” Quatre said to himself as Trowa double checked Heero's back. They whirled around to face Relena as she screamed again.

 

It was Duo, only, it wasn't Duo. He wasn't in a mirror, but standing in the middle of them, like he was one of them, just… standing there.

“Duo…” Heero murmured and the specter looked at him with empty violet eyes. Relena couldn't stop screaming, seeing the ghost's mutilated body. Heero's eyes were solely focused on the… things… coming out of the boy's back, writhing, horrible things, slithering over the boy's form, screaming and laughing in a silent symphony that tried to drive them all mad. The boy's eyes were so empty, yet… there was some sort of darkness in them. The ghost looked over at Relena, whose screams had petered off into shocked gasps.

“No… you're not… real… you're not!” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. The ghost smiled at her, but there was nothing good in the smile and they all felt a terrible shudder go down them, wanting to run. Then, the image was gone.

“Was that what you saw?” Zechs asked Heero, staring at the spot where the boy had stood, the wood there terribly rotted. Heero shook his head.

“No,” he whispered, “this is something different.”

 

Suddenly, horrible, insane laughter filled the room and they covered there ears as it rolled around in their minds. Downstairs, the front door and huge front gate slammed closed.

 

 

End Chapter 1

 

Well, that was much longer than intended. Sooo, Duo's the ghost, but is he really dead? Why is he dead if he is and why does he sometimes appear as something evil or a child? Why is Fatal Frame 2 so damn depressing? Ok, the first questions will be answered, but not the last one, because, only those who have played that game will understand it. Nyu.