Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Memories of Shadow and Light ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

A.N. This is my first YuGiOh fic ever so please be kind. I have not read or seen the entirety of the show or the manga so if some facts are off sorry. This fic idea just wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. It takes place some time after Yami regains his memories, and this is Yaoi, so no like, no read. ^-^ Thanks.

 

 

Memories of Shadow and Light

 

Prologue

 

Dust filtered down from the darkness as old stone-work was pried open after years of decay and holy rest, and of its secret's preservation. Golden heat from the desert sands poured into the shadowed tomb falling across a sarcophagus, covered in a thin veil dust. The golden seal and mask dulled by this grey film, its luster no longer pliable from years of neglect and erosion.

The mask of the face showed strict lines and harsh surety, proving the encrypted Pharaoh to have been proud and strong, holding the heavy burden of his nation for as long as he could, and yet his name was chipped away, signifying that he was condemned in his next life, his name erased from history, never to be spoken of again.

Professor Yoshimori stepped through the thresh hold and into the ancient resting place of the Pharaoh of nameless shadows, his heart thundering loudly inside of his chest, palms sweaty with his excitement. To find such an extraordinary piece of history, it was simply indescribable.

The tomb held hieroglyphics like any other catacomb in the pyramid, but these surrounded the upper walls in painted gold, as clear as the day they had been written. As if the day the Pharaoh of nameless shadows was laid to rest, the writings where painted, and the tomb then sealed, preserving the words for eternity.

At a glance, in the flickering firelight of his torch, Yoshimori could decipher very little, except that the words were written perfectly as if the writer had spent most of his life under tutelage, his wording surprisingly refined.

“… for my light who left to soon, the golden hands of Ra taking back what he'd once given to a god. Darkness swells and inside it shall quell, the end of all falls upon me now, save light's future… Shadow Games of night.” Yoshimori blinked confusedly his eyes straying over the odd picturesque symbols again, questioning if his translation had been off.

It did not follow the usual writing format found on the walls, which told stories of the life and of the gods. This one seemed to be writ from the dead Pharaoh himself. It gave Yoshimori a chill and he shook suddenly cold in the desert heat.

His assistants walked into the room around him, moving toward the sarcophagus, with out him realizing it. They began milling around preparing the sarcophagus for transportation out of its dusty room.

“Yoshimori?” The sharp questioning voice brought the archeologist back to the present. Swinging around, his eyes landed on the soft face of his funding assistant.

“Michael-san.” Yoshimori stated, his `l' sounding more like his native language `ru'. “Sorry, the hieroglyphics just…”

The American laughed lightly as he stepped past Yoshimori, “Well, what do you expect from the famous Pharaoh who's name has been erased from the walls replaced by some odd sounds.”

Yoshimori had to agree that the unfamiliar hieroglyphics that had been placed over the Pharaoh's name forming the sounds for the Japanese word for shadow, was in itself odd and scary.

Yoshimori looked around the tomb with a wonder akin to walking into a graveyard in the middle of the night with nothing but a flashlight and a prayer that the curse of Ju-on was just a superstition.

The room seemed to hum with an ancient energy that crackled around Yoshimori's body, and the archeologist was reminded of the first time he'd held Yugi Muto's Millennium puzzle.

What is this… feeling? Like a yearning… painful yearning…

A loud commotion drew Yoshimori from his ponderings, as Michael called out toward him, batting a worker away from the find with excited movements.

“Yoshimori! Come quick, you need to see this!” Michael Smithe called out and his voice shattered the moment and the feelings were lost like the desert breeze as it passes by the Nile.

“What is it Michael-san?” Yoshimori asked once he had stepped over to stand above the ancient coffin. The distant sunlight licked the edges of the gold painted surface and the face of the dead pharaoh staring up at him and shocking him into a stunned silence.

Dear god, this man… this Pharaoh… had hair… and he looks… familiar… somehow? Yoshimori bent closer to get a better look but was halted by Michael as the taller man grabbed him by his arm none so gently.

“Yoshimori, looks at this!” The American pulled down harshly and Yoshimori was dragged to the chest plate where the name of the Pharaoh would have been written. Not surprisingly the name had been chipped away.

“Michael-san, I already know that there is no na—“

“No! Look!” Michael cut him short, taking his hand and placing it over top of the chiseled stone.

Yoshimori tensed at the contact still not completely used to the American custom of casual touch, and was about to pull away when he felt what his partner had already seen.

Nani…?

Yoshimori glanced down, sweat gathering on his brow as his face heated with excitement.

No… it couldn't be…

His fingers passed over the jagged surface following a thinly carved symbol, recognizing it before his eyes saw it. “Naze ka?” He whispered, his chest tight and constricted in his chest squeezing the breath from him.

“You see, Yoshimori?” Michael stated proudly releasing his wrist and standing tall, his light colored hair glistening in the dim light. “It's Japanese, isn't it?” It was more of a statement than a question and it left Yoshimori's mouth cotton dry. A pause of silence passed over them as a cold thread of disbelief wove its way into his heart and sat there cold as an ice block.

“Ii yada!” Yoshimori gasped, his hands shaking as his body became numb. The sensation of being in a place of great power and sadness consumed him, echoes of a timeless memory invaded his thoughts and he began to sweat unsure of how to react to this phenomenal find. He should have been excited, but instead he was terrified.

What could this possibly mean?!

“Yoshimori? “ Michael's voice was concerned as he laid a careful hand on Yoshimori's shoulder, “What's wrong?” The American turned his gaze to the sloppily carved Japanese. It looked as if a child had written the words, unsure of how to recreate the picture, and it's implication left Yoshimori shaken. “What does it say, Yoshimori?”

Yoshimori stared at the hiragana, his entire being chilled in the massive heat as his eyes fell to the Egyptian puzzle carved upon the sarcophagus' chest, the all seeing eye in the upside-down triangle's center.

“Yami …” He paused to lick his lips, catching breath and sounding as if he had lost his voice, “….. and….Yugi.”

The wind howled harshly through the room extinguishing the torches and frightening the workers from the room. The men hurried from the tomb, their voices carrying back on the unusual breeze, screaming in terror of a curse, of the Shadow games.

 

 

A.N. Okay, here is the prologue, I'm trying to do some research for this though most of this will be what I know from the top of my head so don't use this story as a resource if you intend to write a paper on Egypt. ^-^ LOL. Well let me know if I should continue or not. I don't know how many chapters this will be but its definitely over 10 if my notes have anything to say about it. ^-^

So please review, review, review!

 

Lechan