The Kyoto Ordeal (Tales of the Other Universe Book 1)

by J. G. Taschereau

  “So you expect me to get rid of the Creator’s group and complete your mission with only three agents to do this?”

  “Read through those notes,” Mr. White said. “There are some rather interesting details about one of them. It should help you considerably.” As Mr. Black flipped through the files, Mr. White stepped back into the hallway with his bodyguard.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said, turning his back to the room and disappearing around the corner. The doppelganger continued skimming through the files until something caught his eye. He read more closely as a wicked smile crept across his face.

  “Gien, I’ll be placing you in control of the base for the moment,” he said. “Viktor and I will be going out tonight.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Prisoner of the Night

  “Here it is, home sweet home!”

  Ayumi welcomed her guests into the entryway of her home. The interior design was remodeled from the traditional design that the exterior reflected. To their right was a modern kitchen, polished white and filled with electronics. To their left was a living room, which had cream colored carpet in place of traditional tatami mats. At the door, they had been instructed to take off their shoes and replace them with slippers. There weren’t enough pairs, so Adam remained in his socks.

  “Make yourselves comfortable in the living room,” the hostess said. “I’ll boil some water for tea. I was going to get dinner started soon too. Daniel-kun, you should help me cook.”

  “Maybe Adam could help,” the Creator said. “He loves to cook, don’t you, Adam?”

  “I suppose I could,” he said. In truth, cooking was one of the few non-combat skills that Adam had learned during the centuries he wandered around the Other Universe. It was something he took pride in, but usually kept to himself.

  As Ayumi disappeared into the kitchen, the others took a seat on the two couches in the living room. Mathias let out a heavy sigh.

  “So where do we go from here?” he asked.

  “Now we have to determine where Iilil-ja’s other half and his henchmen are as soon as possible,” the Creator said. “It was convenient to have Ayumi let us stay with her, but she could become involved if this situation drags out for too long.”

  “You can just leave that to me,” Adam said. “I came here to put an end to him and that’s what I intend to do. The rest of you don’t need to put yourselves at risk for nothing.”

  “Nonsense,” said the Creator. “We came here to bring you back safely after all. We can’t just leave while you’re still fighting here. You have an obligation to the people of Magid to return home unharmed, and we will ensure that happens.”

  “Do whatever you want,” Adam conceded. “Just don’t think I’ll be able to protect all of you.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the Creator said with a laugh. “We’ve been quite capable of doing that up until now.” The Creator looked over at New Baggins in reference and saw him focusing on the window. Outside, the sun was beginning to go down beneath the city’s skyline.

  New Baggins stood up and turned towards his other companions. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you all now. My Lord, I’ll return in the morning to be briefed on your plans.”

  “Yes, good night my friend,” the Creator said. Adam was confused as to why New Baggins was leaving, but this had become a normal occurrence for Mathias and Dee. He decided to wait until the man had left before asking any questions.

  “Where is he going?”

  “New Baggins has a rather difficult time sleeping during the night,” the Creator said. “He can get a bit, how should I say, energized. It’s better not to worry about it.”

  Adam couldn’t help but worry about it. Ever since he met that man in the train station, something about him seemed off. Some kind of force exuded from him, invading Adam’s sense of calm. It was a warning sign he typically felt around enemies with terrible intentions. However, he kept quiet. If the Creator had said not to worry about him, he should simply forget it. The Creator had told him time and again to be more trusting in others, but Adam remembered an old saying he had heard and validated personally during his travels: never trust a masked man.

  New Baggins rushed through the streets of Kyoto, moving as far as he could from Ayumi’s home. He covered his head with his hood, doing his best to detract attention from those still in the streets. He looked up at the skyline. The sun would set in six minutes, maybe seven. That was time enough, he thought, to find a place to hide. And to wait.

  He tried to get to the most secluded spot he could find, which ended up being a deserted road. There were a few small apartment buildings on either side, blocked off by another tall stone wall. A single car sat at the edge of the road, still covered from the morning storm. Aside from that, there was no sign of life around.

  New Baggins checked the sky again. It was a hazy dark blue with a purple hue surrounding the streak of red where the sun was sinking. Just a few more seconds now. He sat beneath a streetlight, resting his masked head on his knees. The light hadn’t turned on yet, waiting for the coming darkness. The red from the sky finally disappeared, and the cool of night arrived at last.

  There was a moment’s pause, a silence in the air, before New Baggins groaned and clutched his chest. He stumbled and fell into the street, writhing as his limbs began to tighten up. He tried his best to contain his screams, but as his brain throbbed in his skull it was too difficult.

  His body began to burn. It was a long, familiar sensation. Black flames slowly crept out of his gloves, his robe, and even the eyeholes of his mask. Soon, he was covered like a log in a fireplace. Beneath him, a circle appeared and spread out wide enough to completely surround him. The circle contained several smaller circles inside of its edge, along with detailed geometric patterns connecting to all sides. This, he knew well enough, was the metaphysical form of the seal that bound his powers.

  The seal began to glow brighter as the flames consuming New Baggins grew darker. He bent his head back as he screamed before falling on his face. In a few moments, the fire had overtaken him and he lay still. The seal shimmered and slowly began to fade away, taking the flames with it.

  The body in the street was still for a few seconds, then started to shift. He lifted his head up, followed by his upper body. He shook the ashes from his body and cracked his neck. The immaculate gold and white robes were gone, replaced by cold obsidian and silver armor over black underclothing. His cape too had changed, now thin, black, and frayed at the bottom.

  The streetlight finally flickered to life, prompting a curious look from him. He rose to his feet, observing the even brighter light of the moon shining on his now black mask. It was reflected in white pupils centered in his otherwise black eyes.

  “Another beautiful night,” he said.

  “It’s too bad Baggins-san couldn’t stay longer,” Ayumi said. “I wanted to get to know all of Daniel-kun’s friends.”

  “You know, I’m curious,” Mathias said. “How exactly did you meet, uh, Daniel-kun here?”

  “Through the internet,” Ayumi explained, taking a sip of her tea. “Around seven years ago, my brother Shuya started talking with him. After a while he got a webcam so they could actually see each other. I was just a kid back then, but I remember seeing them talking some times.”

  “I remember you and I had a few conversations as well,” the Creator added.

  “Right, but my brother usually ended up kicking me out. He didn’t want me staying up that late. It was late at night in Japan when you talked with him usually.”

  “That’s because of the time zone difference,” the Creator explained. Dee thought about this for a moment, wondering exactly how much of a time difference existed between the Other Universe and Earth. She knew time was accelerated in some dimensions, but had no idea how that affected the Creator’s discussions with these two Japanese people. Not to mention why he was talking to them seven years ago.

  “Then you just disappeared all of a sud
den,” Ayumi continued. “A little less than a year after you started talking with Shuya. Why was that?”

  The Creator thought for a moment, moving his cup around with his hand. “I had to move suddenly. It interrupted my access to a computer so I couldn’t reach either of you. By the time I had access again, I figured you two had forgotten about me.”

  “Of course not!” Ayumi said. “You were a good friend to Shuya, and to me. I wouldn’t have started to practice English if not for you.”

  The Creator smiled uneasily, looking off to the side. Dee was impressed that he could spin such believable stories out of nowhere like this. For someone as benevolent as he was, she had noticed that he was very good at deceiving people if he needed to.

  “I’m going to check on dinner,” Ayumi said, setting down her cup. “Are you doing alright in there, Adam-san?”

  “I’m doing what I can, but your kitchen is pretty limited,” Adam called from the other room. Annoyed, Ayumi hurried to join him. Dee set her cup down and turned to the Creator who was sitting next to her on the couch.

  “Sir, is it really alright to just be sitting around?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t really worry about it, Ms. Gatti,” he answered. “We’ve all had a really long day. Let’s take the chance to rest now, while we don’t have any leads to follow.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Dee said. She leaned her head back on the couch, only to have her relaxation cut short by the clanging of pots and shouting in the kitchen.

  “Will you just get out of here?” Ayumi ordered. It was clear Adam wasn’t sharing her kitchen very well.

  Adam stormed out, being pushed by Ayumi with a wooden spoon.

  “I know how to cook,” she said. “I don’t need your help, alright? Everything’s fine.”

  “Obviously not,” Adam said. “You hardly have any spices. You call yourself a chef?”

  “I don’t need to be a chef just to cook! Besides, what do you know about preparing Japanese dishes anyway?”

  Nothing, he thought.

  “I know enough,” he said. He walked over to the door and slipped on his shoes and jacket, still stained with his dried blood from the morning.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get some fresh ingredients,” he said. “I saw a store on the way here that should have what I’m looking for.” He also took his sword, which he didn’t bother to conceal.

  “You’re taking your toy with you too?” she added. “If you’re not careful someone might think it’s real and call the police.”

  “I’ll try to be careful,” he said. “But I’m not leaving it behind.”

  Ayumi crossed her arms. “Why not?”

  “Because,” he said, “it’s always more dangerous out after dark.”

  Over 1,200 years ago in the Other Universe, one individual was almost successful in taking control of an entire planet by launching a global war. He gathered followers by convincing them that he was a god, demonstrating his powers by decimating entire cities with the wave of a hand and raising the land from the sea. Now that man stood in an empty street in Kyoto beneath the waning moon, taking in the quiet night.

  The Baggins cracked his neck again. His other personality was very rigid and uptight, he had come to realize. He was always so tense when he gained control of their body after the sun set, but planned to remedy that by taking a long walk. After all, there was a lot for him to see. He and his other half had been exiled to Magid after the end of the war, and after more than a millennia there was not a square foot of land they hadn’t already covered. Japan was a new and welcome freedom.

  He was, after all, a prisoner. He had been for 1,232 years. What was worse, he was a prisoner in his own body. A cruel punishment in his mind, but the Creator saw it to be fitting when he put the seal in place. Rather than death, he was given unending life. The downside: so long as he was under sunlight, his kinder personality, New Baggins, would have control. Only when the sun set would he be free, and even then his former powers were still drastically restricted. He was a fighting dog whose teeth had been beaten out of him.

  Behind him there was a crack in the darkness. To anyone else it would have sounded like an icicle breaking off and falling, but The Baggins knew better. He turned to the side and lifted his hand up. A small psychic pulse pushed away the oncoming object: a razor sharp dart.

  “You know,” his mental voice projected, “using a long ranged attack isn’t going to give you a better chance of hurting me. You may as well come out where I can see you.”

  There was a flapping sound, like fabric caught in the wind. The Baggins picked up on it immediately, discovering his attacker’s position on the eaves of the adjacent apartment. He had only moved a little, but it was enough. The Baggins gathered a ball of deep purple energy in his hand and launched it at the source of the noise. His target didn’t have time to jump before the psychic attack landed. There was a small crack as the roof tiles burst away, sending a man tumbling down. He managed to catch his footing off of the stone wall and land without injuring himself, but the damage was done. He had been exposed.

  The Baggins eyed him as he landed. The attacker was completely concealed: not a bit of his skin was visible. Only his narrow eyes were exposed between the top of his black hood and a cloth mask covering his face. The rest of his body was wrapped in black fabric that included the cape that had given away his position.

  He didn’t waste a chance to recover himself, positioning his arm out towards The Baggins. A sort of crossbow cuff had been fitted around his wrist and steadily launched another arrow. It proved as ineffective as the first as The Baggins knocked it away with another psychic pulse.

  This was just a distraction. As the arrow flew, the assassin ran at The Baggins. A third arrow followed, meeting a similar fate. But by now, the attacker was just feet away. He reached for his side and took out a hunting knife, continuing his charge. Only at this distance could The Baggins see his small, gray eyes.

  The next attack came, but not by the knife. With his other hand, the assassin grabbed a metal hook and threw it forward, a chain rattling behind it. The Baggins dodged it by stepping aside, only to find the knife’s blade coming at his chest. The Baggins pushed his assailant away as he heard the rattle of the chain behind him again. The attack ripped it back towards him with his free hand, sending the sharpened hook back with it. The knife was just a distraction as well; catching the hook around his neck was the real attack. As it locked beneath The Baggins’ head, the chain jerked again.

  Viktor Serbanescu still had the chain in both hands when it fell to the ground, pattering with clinks as the links struck the pavement. A few feet in front of him, The Baggins held the hooked end of the chain in his hand. The last links had deteriorated, the very molecules it was composed of broken down.

  “A dagger?” The Baggins’ voice, much colder than his counterpart’s, echoed in Serbanescu’s mind. “A hook and a chain? Disgraceful. Do you even know who I am?”

  Serbanescu stood upright as he thought of his next move. He was strictly an assassin who specialized in guerilla style tactics and quick kills. He had never failed to kill a target within the second attack, until tonight at least.

  “You are a monster,” Serbanescu finally said with a heavy Romanian accent. “That much is clear.”

  The Baggins laughed, a noise that sickened Serbanescu in the pit of his stomach. “A monster, you say? Why, because I don’t have a face? Or maybe because I could tear you limb from limb if I so chose?”

  Serbanescu felt something moving at his feet as his cape blew gently. There was a breeze around his feet that started to rise up around his legs. Startled, he tried to move away but the wind kept him in. Soon it had grown in power, moving up and encircling him up to his waist. The wind, he could see now, was composed of purple and black gas.

  “Or perhaps you think I’m a monster because I would throw your life away, or any life for that matter, without consideration. You think I’m evil,
wicked, perhaps? Well I have news for you, you hypocrite. Whether it’s you or me or even the Creator himself, within the hearts of all men, a monster dwells.”

  Serbanescu struggled, dropping the chain and dagger as he flailed about in the wind. He was now completely consumed by the cyclone, which had spread out wider. He was torn from his feet, waving his arms and legs around in a poor attempt to cling to something. Quickly he found that there was nothing to grab on to. He was caught in the tempest with no means of escape.

  “Stop! Stop!” he shouted, swearing in his native tongue. He could no longer see The Baggins; everything was a terrible blur as he was tossed about like a ragdoll. His body whipped around, raising higher and then dropping again over and over. He begged The Baggins to release him, but his words fell on deaf ears. As he spun faster, all he could do was scream.

  The Baggins stood still, watching Viktor Serbanescu writhing on the ground. He kicked about at the air, screaming unintelligibly in Romanian. He couldn’t have been a very bright man, The Baggins thought. It was very easy to trap him in a mental illusion, and there he would remain until The Baggins chose to release him. It was something that wasn’t very likely to happen.

  Content with his victory, The Baggins turned away from his assailant and looked back at the moon. It was the first chance since coming to Japan that he had been able to exercise his own powers, excluding the times when his other half had control of their body. Somehow, he was disappointed by the outcome.

  “That’s not bad, I must say I’m impressed.”

  The Baggins turned around, discovering that he was not alone with the incapacitated assassin. From around the corner, a second man stepped forward. He was also dressed in black clothing, including a cape that wrapped around to his front, but his face was completely visible. Beneath the streetlights, his unkempt white hair stood out against the black on his body. He smiled.