It was not until several minutes had passed that Phil’s tears finally began to dry. He pulled away from Lumina, dragging the palm of his hand roughly against his eyes to dry his face.

  “Fuck.” He mumbled to himself. The restroom was a mess. The floor was covered in bloody glass shards, as were parts of the wall above the line of sinks. Half the doors to the toilet stalls were hanging loosely off their hinges, while the other half lay forlornly on the sticky floor. Phil glanced at Lumina. Her eyes were still dripping with concern.

  “Sorry for all… this.” Phil halfheartedly gestured at the wreck. Lumina shook her head wildly.

  “No… I would be more concerned if you had gone ahead with business as usual after seeing Jean. Though… this was a little bit… much."

  Phil silently nodded. ‘A bit much’ was perhaps an understatement. But what was done was done.

  A warm feeling brushed against his skin as Lumina raised his hands in her own. Phil winced at the sight. Shards of glass were sticking out from the back of his hands; a mixture of small and large pieces embedded deeply into his skin that wept scarlet tears. Phil clicked his tongue. Just the look alone was enough for a fierce burning sensation to flare up in his skin. The smallest pieces were hardly an issue, each one barely being large enough to see with the naked eye. The large pieces, however, were a concern. Several of them were pencil-sized, but the two largest shards were almost half the size of his own hand.

  With clammy hands, Phil grabbed the largest piece and slid it out from under his skin, hissing with pain as the burning sensation intensified. It fell clattering to the floor, slick in his blood. On the second piece, his hand shook, causing the edges to scrape against his flesh. He threw it away with a shudder.

  Lumina shot him an irritated look. “Let me do it, dumbass.” She grabbed one of his arms with a firm grip, while her other hand carefully worked another one of the pieces out from his skin. Each piece she painstakingly excised joined the rest in a steadily growing pile on the floor, until finally the worst of it was done.

  "I figure the rest should wash out with water," Phil mumbled as he inspected Lumina’s handiwork. Then he cocked his head. “But not here.” Phil decided. He hadn’t fully registered the sounds during his improv restroom remodeling session, but he could hear police sirens in the air – and they were getting closer by the second. Phil tore two strips off the bottom of his shirt to tie around his hands. The cloth quickly became wet with blood, but the pressure from the fabric strips was enough to stem the bleeding for now. Anything more permanent could wait until after the police were successfully evaded.

  "Come on," Phil said. "Let's get out of here before I get arrested. Smells like shit in here anyway."

  He threw one last glance over his shoulder. Phil’s reflection stared back at him from the few glass shards still valiantly hanging from the wall, nothing more than a half-obscured face shrouded in grief and a thin, bowed back retreating through the steel door. But the eyes, the eyes of his reflection observed Phil with an accusatory glare. Phil blinked in wordless acknowledgement. He knew.

  It was all his fault.

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  Domino City Park was devoid of people. There were no joggers, picnickers, kids, adults, surly teenagers, or any other signs of human life that Phil could see. They had all left, most likely a decision spurred by the sight of a bloodied lunatic running around within its confines. Or at least he was pretty sure his conclusion was correct, judging from the sirens in the air.

  “They’re by the park entrance, I’d say…” Phil stroked his beard out of habit as he thought aloud. The main entrance would definitely be the best starting point for the police, where he had accosted that poor lady in his frantic search for Red Summer. Hopefully he hadn’t scared her too badly.

  Phil cast a conflicted look toward the fountain in the far distance, where he knew the small hand mirror leading back to the upside-down hideout of the Sons of Kul Elna rested. Jean's body was still back there… did he have enough time?

  Lumina seemed to read his mind. “It won’t – his body won’t be there. D.3.S… took it.”

  Phil heaved a sigh. That was right. He remembered, faintly at that, the sight of the giant frog spirit lowering its gaping maw toward Jean’s body. It was a sight he was more used to seeing approaching his defeated enemies to devour them, but Phil… he had a feeling this time was different. It was a feeling powered by the spirit’s actions. The great frog had been… gentle, almost forlorn. Like it was laying a friend to rest instead of devouring an enemy. A thought drifted into his mind. What if…

  Could he bring Jean back? The Millennium Items had a chance…

  He violently shook his head. No. Raising people from the dead never ended well. Never. He would be a fool to try, never mind what he would likely have to do to part the Millennium Items from their wielders, and that was if the items didn’t flat-out kill him for being unworthy in the first place. Hell, he doubted one item could do it alone. Pegasus’s eye hadn’t brought Cecelia back. Not by itself.

  Any further thoughts on the matter vanished as a much more concerning sound than sirens split through the air.

  “Fuck.” Phil swore.

  Lumina frowned. She almost looked like she could hardly believe her ears. “Did the police bring dogs?”

  “Sure sounds like it!” Phil broke into a sprint. People, he could evade. But dogs? Lumina drew close to him, her tanned legs settling into a steady pace that let her easily keep up with him. Even with his active lifestyle, she was far more athletic than he could ever be.

  “Thoughts? We- oh.”

  Lumina’s words fell flat as Phil reached the pond near the center of the park and plowed right into it without stopping for a single second, though he was careful to keep his injured hands raised in the air well over the waterline. The water was cool against his skin, a welcome reprieve from the suffocating heat of the restroom.

  “So!” Phil shouted over his splashes toward Lumina, who was casually keeping pace with a steady breaststroke through the water. It was an action that was wholly unnecessary, as the water only came up to Phil’s shoulders. "You heard the message from Rose, too, didn't you? Wasn't some hallucination of mine?"

  Lumina paused her movements to tread water next to him. “I did. Frankly… I didn’t know it was possible to do something like that, to send a message through time itself.”

  “Right.” Phil agreed. “She sounded like our Rose, not an alternative universe Rose. She doesn’t know me yet in the time we currently exist in, but the message version of her definitely knew me. We met at the academy, which is this world’s future. Not only that, but she sounded older. Called herself ‘Queen’ instead of ‘Princess’. Is the origin of the message later in the GX timeline, or closer to 5Ds?”

  A splash of water hit Phil’s mouth, causing him to sputter. 5Ds… that was a thought. He didn’t know as much about the third series of the anime, but he was aware that it took place after the events of GX, while being close enough to the original series that one of Yugi's classmates made an appearance as a grown adult.

  “Buddy! Hey buddy! Big guy! Could you send a message back to Rose?”

  But there was nothing but silence from the great frog.

  Lumina casually swam ahead of him and then spun around in the water to face Phil, all the while still pushing her limbs against the water to propel herself toward the shore.

  “A power problem?” Lumina offhandedly proposed. “I said I didn’t know a message through time itself was possible, but things get a bit… shaky when you involve a duel spirit of D.3.S. Frog’s caliber. Actions that are impossible become possible. But every action still requires power. It might be that he made the message go through to bring you back mentally from the bad places your head was going, but any sort of reply has been deemed… not essential. Too much of a power cost, not enough of a reward.”

  "He wants to conserve power instead of playing telephone." Phil grunted. "Fair enough. I wonder how Rose did it… no offense to her, but I would have expected Bastion to find a way to communicate before she did…" His eyes widened. "Shit. Call it a long shot, but she has several frog duel spirits and a copy of D.3.S. Frog. Do you think-“

  “-There’s a link between those copies?” Lumina finished Phil’s sentence as if it were natural. “You might be right… but you know how magic is…”

  “Yup.” Phil rolled his eyes. “Soft magic system. It does what it wants to do when it wants to do it and to hell with explanations. Shit, what I would do for a hard magic ruleset some days.”

  Phil’s legs bumped against the shore. He heaved himself out of the water. He didn’t expect his ploy to work perfectly, but as long as it threw the dogs off his scent long enough for him to get lost in a crowd of people, it would be worth it. As for the message… as much as Phil hated to admit it, it was a dead end for now considering all he and Lumina could think of were hypotheticals and ‘maybes’. A dead end that was not something he even had the time to agonize over. Not until Jean’s death was avenged.

  With his waterlogged clothes hanging heavily on his limbs, Phil continued his sprint out of the empty park until he reached the wrought iron fence separating the Domino City Park from the rest of Domino City. He placed his hands on the fence, wincing as the warm metal made contact with the rough bandages around his skin. There was no gate to be seen. It was all solid metal.

  “Here. I’ll give you a boost.” Lumina said. Her hands were cupped together.

  Phil nodded and placed a foot in her hands. Then, with strength that still managed to surprise him, Lumina heaved him into the air with enough force that he didn’t even need to climb – he simply soared over the top of the fence to land in an ungainly cursing heap on the sidewalk on the other side. Lumina soon landed next to him in a more graceful fashion. She hoisted him to his feet with one casual movement and then stood back as Phil swiveled his head to look for the best escape route.

  His search did not last long. Before Phil could do much more than glance down the three different streets spread out before him, a flash of dark blue cloth rounded the corner.

  Phil’s eyes widened. A policeman. One resplendent in a blue uniform, wielding a solid wood baton with a radio clipped to his belt. The policeman stared at Phil. Phil stared at the policeman. For a moment, no one moved.

  Even time felt like it was standing still. Then the standoff was broken as the policeman reached for his baton. Lumina blurred forward, becoming tangible for the precisely two seconds it took for her fist to smash into the policeman’s face and her knee to bury itself into his crotch. The man stumbled backward, falling right onto his ass in a stunned heap of limbs and unfocused eyes.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Phil rushed forward, moving much slower than Lumina, but still quite fast for a human. For a second, he’d almost expected the man to fall unconscious, like what would have happened in the movies. But this was no movie. A good hit to the face wouldn’t knock a guy out. Hell, he knew from his time learning first aid in Boy Scouts that if someone actually was knocked out for more than a second or two, then there was likely some serious brain damage in progress.

  “Sorry mate, I’ll be taking this.” Phil said apologetically. His hands rummaged around the policeman’s belt to snatch his radio away. He slid it into his coat pocket for safekeeping. The man’s handcuffs were next. Phil ratcheted one end around the policeman’s wrist, dragged him over to the nearest lamp post, and then secured the other end so that the officer was cuffed to the pole.

  With narrowed eyes, Phil inspected his handiwork. What else… “Right.” Phil put his fist into his palm. He’d almost forgotten. The keys. “I’ll take this too.” He said, slipping his hand into the officer’s pocket to grab the keys to his cuffs. Couldn’t have the man freeing himself too quickly.

  “All units be advised, suspect was spotted climbing over the back park fence. He is considered to be armed and extremely dangerous. Repeat-“

  Phil rolled his eyes at the radio. Fruitless, but snarking at the inanimate object made him feel a little better. "Dawg, I don't even have a gun. How am I armed and extremely dangerous?"

  “Shoot on sight. Repeat, shoot the suspect on sight.”

  Phil and Lumina shared a look.

  “Fuck.”

  He dashed down the closest alleyway. It was a disgusting pathway, full of leaking trash bags made pungent by the warmth of Spring. Flies buzzed in thick swarms through the air. But there was not another soul to be seen, until a flash of white feathers burst out from the other end of the alley.

  “Stupid, stupid!” Kounotori Tori screeched as Phil skidded to a halt. The great stork stood between him and the exit out of the alleyway – turning around would only lead him back to the park, and the police officer he’d handcuffed to the lamp post.

  Phil spread his arms out. He didn’t know why the stork had appeared now, or why he stood between Phil and the way out.

  “What can I do for ya?” He shouted.

  Kounotori ruffled his feathers, fixing Phil with a baleful yellow eye that felt to pierce through Phil’s very soul. His long, spindly bird legs were coated from top to bottom in a fresh, dripping coat of blood layered so thick that Phil could smell the iron-tinged scent all the way from where he stood.

  “Man-creature Phil, yes you, I speak of. Re-ven-ge~. Krkrkrk! That is your goal now, is it not? Then it seems~ we. Have. Similar. Goals. Yes of course? Stupid! Stupid! Shut up! Shut!”

  Each uttered ‘stupid’ and ‘shut up’ was spat out from the creature’s beak with a hateful force, like Kounotori was chewing on a particularly disgusting bit of food.

  “No shit, Sherlock. Of course, after all that’s done, you and I are gonna have some reckoning over your role in Jean’s death.” Phil replied.

  Kounotori tilted his head in malicious amusement.

  “The woman-creature Ishizu Ishtar wishes to meet you in person. Be at the Domino City Museum when it closes at seven tonight. If, at least, you wish for ven-ge-ance~, man-creature Phil."

  Before Phil could process those words or even ask for further information, Kounotori spread his wings and launched his body into the air in a burst of white feathers, leaving the end of the alleyway empty aside from a few upturned trash cans that dripped out a steady flow of foul juices onto the asphalt.

  Phil narrowed his eyes in thought, moving back into a steady run as he did. Ishizu Ishtar. The woman in possession of the Millennium Necklace. But… he knew her to be involved in Battle City mainly with the goal of saving her brother, Marik Ishtar, from his evil split personality. Why was she involved with Kounotori? Why would she care about him?

  He spat out a thick wad of saliva onto the ground. Seers. The word flashed through his mind like a particularly foul curse. Though Phil knew well that Ishizu was a kind, good person worthy of his trust, he still felt uneasy being involved in the affairs of a seer after what had happened last time.

  But his personal feelings did not matter in this situation. Not when Ishizu’s powers could be of great use in avenging Jean, no matter what she actually wanted with him. To a man fresh out of leads, the aid of a true seer would be like a draught of fresh water found in the midst of a scorching desert.

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  Fortunately, it was not particularly difficult to evade the police with the help of his stolen radio and a cool head. Even after the handcuffed officer was discovered, there was no effort made to change the radio channel, which allowed Phil full knowledge of their movements as the Domino City Police searched the streets. It was clear enough that their knowledge of his description was lacking in some parts – they knew what clothes he wore, and that he was a bearded man, but none of the people in the park had managed to provide a more detailed description, and the officer Lumina had assaulted had only gotten the briefest of looks at Phil’s face. Thus, after a quick bit of extremely sketchy dumpster diving behind a thrift store to change his clothes, Phil was able to set off down the streets at a moderate pace.

  Keeping his pace casual was perhaps the most difficult part, that and reminding himself to look over toward any police cars he saw with the mild interest of a random bystander. That was what he had learned after seeing a few different cop shows on TV back at home. It was never a 100% accurate science, but most innocent bystanders would tend to look in the direction of police sirens with curiosity, while guilty parties tended to glance away and hide their faces.

  Again, not an accurate science, but it sounded about right to Phil.

  Every cop car that screamed past, every burst of noise from the radio in his pocket, all of that made Phil’s heart jump in worry each time. It caused his shoulders to unconsciously tense, his nerves to tighten, and his breathing to become sharper than it normally was. Even the burning sensation on his hands felt muted from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

  But in the face of all that, Phil’s feet eventually took him to the front door of the Kitamori household. He took a deep breath. This…

  He’d fought monsters. Dueled with his life on the line more times than he cared to count. He’d lost his mind and seen his body puppeted to hurt his friends against his will. He’d died twice. But this…

  Phil wasn’t sure if he had the courage to do this. A small voice in the back of his mind, a voice that was both nasty and cowardly whispered away to sap at his will. He could turn around. It wasn’t too late. He could slip out of the city, find somewhere in the countryside to hide out in until the heat cooled down. Then he could come back and declare open season on the Sons. No tag limits, no pressure from the game wardens, no concerns about treating them with ‘humanity’ or giving them an ‘easy death’. Tear them to shreds until there were no more. Just him and Lumina. He wouldn’t have to face Tilla.

  Then there was a warm hand that settled on his shoulder. He knew without looking that it was Lumina. Her touch seemed to impart a measure of strength into his bones. It was strange, almost. Without Phil even realizing, Lumina had made him into a better man than he was before. Her wordless presence alone was enough to give him courage.

  Phil let out a sigh. His hand drifted up to the door, knocking once and then twice. The sound seemed to be like some great booming drum being struck, echoing across the neighborhood – no, the city itself.

  The door to the Kitamori residence swung open to the accompaniment of the usual hustle and bustle that Phil had grown used to in his time living there. Standing in the open doorway were two women, one a demure lady wearing a dark, gothic-style dress, and the other a bespectacled girl wearing a pleated skirt with a simple white top. They both seemed surprised, if not glad, to see him.

  “Phil!” Tilla smiled. As always, the expression looked simultaneously somber yet cheerful on her face. “The kids are worried, they said you two missed the ferry back-“

  Her voice cut out as her eyes appeared to finally take in Phil’s bedraggled appearance. For a moment, the two women stared at Phil, until finally the silence was broken by Reiko’s horrified whisper.

  “Jesus, Phil…”

  Tilla picked up where Reiko’s tone petered out.

  “Phil, come inside. You’re covered in blood. Where’s Jean? Is he alright?” Her voice was concerned, but still solid and in control. This hardly seemed like the first time she had been in this kind of situation. She rushed to Phil’s side, while Reiko hovered in the background, unsure of what to do.

  Phil closed his eyes and let out a short breath. He hardly blamed the two women for their reactions. While the pond water had washed the blood from his skin and his clothes had been changed through dumpster diving, his beard and hair were still slick with the sticky substance, not to mention his hands. Phil had bandaged his injured hands as best as he could with the time and materials available, but they still made for a rough sight to see.

  “Tilla, mind if we talk for a sec?”

  Tilla’s head tilted slightly in surprise, her body freezing from where she was in the middle of ushering Phil inside. Habitually, Phil paused for a small second, half-expecting Jean’s voice to gush about how cute even that small gesture was.

  He felt even worse when his pause was met by silence.

  “Out here?” Tilla’s confused voice broke him out of his thoughts.

  Phil sat down on the steps leading up to the front door. His head was bowed, and his thumbs absentmindedly kneaded themselves against his forehead. Tilla lowered her hands. She seemed to understand that Phil wasn’t intending to move inside until he said what he needed to say. She leaned patiently against the doorway, her dress rustling in the warm breeze. Reiko stood nearby, her eyes nervously darting between Tilla and the bloody strips of fabric wrapped around Phil's hands. Her face was awkward, as if she were unsure if she should stay or go. Phil didn't know which would be better.

  Silence reigned. Phil's thumbs kneaded harder against his forehead. He opened and closed his mouth, but every time he tried to speak, the words died in his parched throat. The fire filling his hands was worse than ever, like the sun itself was inches away from his body to melt his flesh like soft candle wax underneath its merciless rays.

  Lumina sat down next to him. Her head rested on his shoulder, nudging against his head to once more be a pillar of strength to him. Only then did Phil find his words, as shaky as they were.

  “Jean is dead. Murdered.” Phil eventually managed to choke the words out. He wished, oh how dearly he wished, that better words could have come to his mind. But those three words, said with a cracked voice, were all his spinning brain could imagine.

  From the corner of his eyes, he could almost see a giant question mark floating over Tilla’s head. Her face had formed a quizzical expression, as if at that moment she wondered if this was all some tasteless prank and Jean was about to come sprinting out of the bushes to hoist her spinning over his head while roaring with laughter, as he often liked to do.

  But there was nothing. Nothing but silence. Reiko’s eyes grew wider. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth, which was wide open in horror.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Phil braced himself, but the series of blows he'd imagined, almost hoped would come, never arrived. No angry words came from Tilla’s mouth. No accusations or curses. She didn’t kick him from the doorstep, screaming at him to leave and never return. The feeling of despair and loss in his stomach deepened, deepened until even that was gone, replaced by a feeling of emptiness that was made greater by the absence of any sort of blame from Tilla Dubois. Phil looked up to meet her eyes.

  Tilla looked lost.

  “Jean’s really…”

  “Yeah.” Phil confirmed with a heavy tone.

  That was the worst part. The worst part of it all. Tilla cast not a single word of blame onto Phil’s shoulders, even though he deserved that and much more. She did not blame Phil, even though she should have. Even though he dearly wished she would. Even though it was all his fault.

  Eventually Reiko took Tilla by the shoulders.

  “Come on,” Reiko shakily said. “You should sit down, Tilla. I’ll make you a cup of tea. Would that be alright?”

  Tilla quietly shook her head. The motion was limp, devoid of strength. “Thanks, but not now.” She hoarsely replied. She looked right into Phil’s eyes. He saw a look of burning energy deep inside her gaze. There was strength there. Purpose.

  “They’re still out there?”

  Phil nodded once in confirmation.

  “Then… Phil… knowing you, you have a plan to get back at the filth who took Jean from us. I will be joining you.”

  There was no uncertainty in her words, no room left for anyone to deny her participation. Phil had never planned to anyway. She was a formidable duelist with just as much of a right as he had for revenge.

  “Aye.”

  Tilla offered a brisk, small smile in return.

  “You were Jean’s brother. That means you are my brother too.” She held her hand to Phil, which he grasped in his own palm, and she pulled him to a standing position.

  “There’s a seer in town.” Phil explained. “A true one. I- we’ll be meeting with her tonight. At the City Museum, right after it closes. I’m hoping she can throw us a lead or two, or at least point us in the right direction. I trust her.”

  Tilla nodded her understanding. The fire in her eyes was powerful, creating a strength in her form that seemed like it could force mountains to move through willpower alone.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. Phil glanced around, fighting his instincts to duck his head in favor of acting natural, but the motion did not go unnoticed by either of the women.

  “Are those for you?” Tilla quietly asked.

  “Probably. I might have freaked out some people when I lost the bastard in the park.”

  Tilla let out a soft sigh. With her hand, she ushered Phil inside and closed the door tight.

  “I’ll get ready. You should clean up a bit, wash the blood from your hair. Get some clothes that don’t look like you started living under that bridge again. There are actual bandages in the bathroom medicine cabinet.”

  She walked deeper into the house with an even gait, Reiko trailing close behind her. Eventually they reached the hallway where Phil’s room was. Tilla and Jean’s room was one door down. Tilla disappeared into her room, with Reiko following her after shooting one last concerned glance at Phil.

  But as Phil stepped into his own room, it was not silent. The walls in the Kitamori house were thin. Thin enough that he could hear the quiet sounds of someone crying on the other side, where he knew Tilla and Jean’s room was. Phil eased his body down to the floor with his back against the wall. Lumina sat on top of a desk nearby. Her legs aimlessly bounced against the front of it. He closed his eyes as tight as he could.

  He could still hear Tilla’s sobs.

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