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Awakening: Jiro the Jorogumo

Title: Awakening (The Samaya Court Book 1)

Characters: Yuugi Mutou, Jounouchi Katsuya, Anzu Mazaki, Miho Nosaka, Honda Hiroto, Officer Junsar, Eevee, Spinarak, Jiro the Jorogumo (Prisoner 777)

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon

A/N: Sorry this is late. I got stuck on how to write this chapter. Couple things: First, this took an unexpectedly dark turn. Trigger warning for a Pokemon's death. Second, the first major deviation in canon. If you aren't familiar with Season 0 or the manga, you may not recognize it. Also, a fun fact: In the manga it is Prisoner 777 who escapes, and he’s never given a name. In Season 0, this character is split into two characters: Tetsu the Hedgehog and Jiro the Jorogumo. This always seemed odd to me, so I made Tetsu (Prisoner 777) Jiro the Jorogumo and returned it to just one character.

Read Chapter 4: Megumi-chan here

The restaurant staff were very kind about letting them bring Megumi inside with them, as long as she didn’t try to jump up on the table. They ordered drinks and fries to share and settled into a booth near the door—Yuugi really wanted to try one of their hamburgers because they already had such a great reputation, but his mother would kill him if he ruined his dinner. Though he did order her a hamburger and picked off the bun so she could eat with them.

Yuugi leaned back against the booth, the Millennium Puzzle a comforting weight against his chest, and smiled. It was good. His friends laughed and joked and traded cards and they knew about Megumi now, so she was included. Could be included from then on. The Puzzle had really granted his wish in every possible way—he and Anzu had truly reconnected, and he had new friends in the way of Jou, Honda, Miho, and Megumi. He had friends he could count on. Happiness bubbled in his chest, and the Puzzle felt warm even through his shirt.

After they had finished off the fries, they all settled back in their seats. Megumi was curled into a ball under the table, right between Yuugi and Miho’s feet, working in a post-meal nap. The restaurant door slid open to admit yet another customer. They should probably go soon, Yuugi thought. It was almost time for the dinner rush.

A commanding voice made Yuugi turn, curiosity getting the better of him. A tall, stern-looking man in a brown overcoat was talking to BurgerWorld’s manager, flanked by two police officers. The man in the brown jacket looked familiar. Yuugi frowned, trying to remember where it was he had seen him—ah, the news! That was it. He had seen the man on the news. He was the chief of police. But what was he doing here, Yuugi wondered.

The manager nodded and stepped back. The three police officers turned to look at the half-full dining room and the chief stepped forward.

“If I may have your attention, please,” he called, his voice calm and clear. “We are searching for a suspect who was last seen in this area. The suspect sustained a leg injury. I must ask you all to sit with your legs facing the aisle so we may search for this suspect.”

It seemed odd, Yuugi decided, that they were going about it this way. He almost wanted to say no just on principle. But the other customers didn’t seem to have much problem with it…he looked at his friends, his discomfort mirrored in their expressions.

“Bad idea to tell them no,” Anzu murmured.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jou sighed. He looked distinctly unhappy, though. “We should spread out a bit.”

Yuugi nodded and slid out of his seat. He was on the end of one booth, while Jou had been directly across from him, so they moved to the booth next to theirs so the officers would have an easier time searching. The sooner this was over with, the happier they would all be, Yuugi thought.

The officer that approached them was a young woman with hair so dark it appeared blue. Yuugi had no idea if it was natural or dyed like his. She smiled at him as she checked, probably to take the edge off an already tense situation, Yuugi thought.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, before moving on to the next booth.

The only hiccup in the search was a loudly-dressed young man near the back of the diner, his feet propped up on the table top, hands locked behind his neck.

“Sir, please cooperate,” the manager begged him. “You cannot have your feet on the table—it’s a health violation, we could be shut down!”

“Why should I care?” the man snorted, grinning sharply. His jacket was bright red, his head was covered by an equally brightly-colored beanie, and he wore sunglasses even though they were inside.

“Sir, if you would be so kind as to put your feet down, we can continue our search and move on,” one officer said, her voice polite but still firm. It was the officer who had searched them, Yuugi realized.

“And what’re you gonna do if I don’t?” the man said, sneering at her. He didn’t move.

She pursed her lips and propped one hand on her hip…then smiled. “What’s the matter?” she asked slyly. “You aren’t hiding anything, are you? Because right now you’re interfering with a police investigation, and we’re trying very hard to capture a very dangerous man. You saw the prison escape in the newspaper? Jiro the Jorogumo? It’s him we’re looking for. And if you don’t want to be searched, that just means you’re hiding something. Like a bruise. Should we take you to the station?” The man froze, mouth slackening. “No? So let me tell you how this goes—first, you put your feet down, like a civilized person. Next, you lift your pant legs so we can check for a bruise. If you don’t, I have to assume you’re hiding something and take you in.” She leaned forward slightly, eyes hard. “Got it?”

“Fine, you insufferable bitch,” the man snarled, slamming his feet onto the ground.

“My name is Officer Junsar,” she said sharply, her smile dropping away. “You’ll remember it.” She nodded at his legs. “Now, lift your pant legs. Please.”

“String Shot.”

“What—?”

Something scuttled out from under the hem of the man’s jacket, something green and with too many legs, and shot a thick white streamer at Officer Junsar’s face with an odd hiss. She barely got her arms up in time to block it, but it still wrapped around her arms, shoulders, and head. She flailed, but the rope-like substance didn’t break.

It crawled onto the table, where it was more easily seen, and customers started screaming.

“What is this?” The police chief turned. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the green spider, which immediately set about entangling him and the other officer.

Not a spider, Yuugi thought numbly, heart thudding in his chest. A spinarak. He recognized the markings on the large green body from a teaser in a magazine about the upcoming expansion. The artwork had made it look almost cute, but in reality it was way too spider-like—!

And how were the police supposed to even deal with this? Less than a minute, and all three were completely disabled and incapable of reaching their guns.

The stranger grabbed Officer Junsar’s gun with one hand and her upper arm with the other, shoving her down. She hit the floor with a dull thud. He fired into the ceiling. “Everybody on the ground, now!”

Yuugi froze, only moving when Jou grabbed his collar and tugged at him. He lowered himself slowly down next to his friend, eyes wide. He could just see Megumi, still under their original table, crouched in a shadowy corner. Clearly the noise and commotion had spooked her. She looked at him and started to go over to him, belly so low her fur swept the ground, but he shook his head, making her pause.

“Today’s a good day,” the man boasted. He laughed, gun still pointed up, and walked down the aisle. “Got a drop on the police and everything!” The spinarak clicked its pincers together. “Let’s see, now…” Heavy boots stopped in front of Yuugi’s face. “You, short stack. Get up.”

He started to push himself carefully upright, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. There was a muffled squeak somewhere next to him.

“What’s the matter, girlie?” Please don’t let it be Miho or Anzu, Yuugi prayed. He glanced over and swallowed a groan; Anzu had Miho’s hand slapped over her mouth. “Don’t like him getting the attention?” The man grabbed Anzu and dragged her upright. “Don’t worry, cutie. Your friend is gonna bring us a couple drinks, and then we can get to know each other.” He pointed the gun carelessly at Yuugi. “Go to the kitchen and bring me back the strongest vodka they have. I wanna celebrate my good fortune.” When Yuugi didn’t immediately move, he glared. “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Scram!”

Yuugi fled to the kitchen, his heart pounding in his chest. What should he do now? He was fairly confident that Megumi could take on that spinarak, but that guy had a gun. He could shoot her before either of them made a move. And the spinarak stacked things in his favor, as well, since he could now incapacitate anyone who got too close.

He quickly found a tray and the alcohol. Right now his best option seemed to be to play along…but he didn’t particularly like that, either. The terrified look on Anzu’s face flashed in front of his eyes, and he felt sick. What to do, what to do—

Somewhere between that thought and reaching for the bottle of Everclear, his vision went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He woke up in completely unfamiliar surroundings. He looked around, frowning. Everything was shiny metal and there were several bottles of alcohol in front of him. He poked at Yuugi’s most recent thoughts and scowled.

Yuugi and his friends had gone out—what on Earth was a BurgerWorld?—and someone with a weapon was holding everyone hostage. And a spinarak, he amended. The spinarak would be more of a problem than the gun, to be honest—he could use shadow magic to jam it, whereas Pokemon had always been somewhat resistant to direct damage from spells. But Megumi was also there, so she could probably take care of it. He made a note to cast a diagnostic spell the next time he had Megumi to himself—if his hikari had a habit of attracting trouble, Megumi would be able to keep him safe, but they would need to know what she was capable of.

No wonder his hikari had been so worked up, though. The man had picked Anzu to “get to know,” on top of the hold-up and having a gun pointed at him. Yuugi had a soft spot for her, the type that came from knowing someone a long time and having them be your closest non-familial relationship.

Well then, he decided, he would fix that. He picked up the bottle he had woken up reaching for—the label said it was “Everclear,” what was that? A brand of vodka, but what was that?—and set it carefully on the tray, along with a shot glass. He turned his thoughts on what to do, thinking through his options lightning-fast—should he call a Shadow Game? The Shadows shivered in delight at the possibility. But would it be safer to just call a battle? There were so many witnesses, after all, who would have no idea what Shadow Magic was. Maybe make the battle a Shadow Game? Not ideal; the Shadows were unpredictable at best when it came to Pokemon.

Actually, maybe his original thought was the best one. He picked the tray up carefully and carried it out, trying not to let the bottle wobble too much. He didn’t want to provoke the man—Jiro the Jorogumo, according to the paper Yuugi had read—into doing something drastic just because the bottle fell and broke.

Jiro was sitting in a booth, scowling in his direction when he walked out, one arm resting on the table while the other, the one that held the gun, was slung around Anzu’s shoulders. She sat at the end of the bench, hunched in on herself, her eyes covered in a sticky layer of Spinarak’s webbing. He wrinkled his nose slightly—he remembered having it catch in his hair during a training session, remembered how it had pulled and someone finally ended up cutting it out (who? When? Where?).

He set the tray on the table. Jiro’s lips twisted into a snarl. “The hell took you so long, pipsqueak?”

Anzu looked up. “Yuugi?”

“You requested the strongest vodka the restaurant carried.” He slid into the bench opposite them. “It took a moment to find it.”

Anzu’s face twisted in confusion at his voice. Did he really sound so different from his hikari? He had never heard the boy’s voice for himself, so he didn’t know. “You’re not…”

“Shut up, girl,” Jiro growled. “What are you doing, beansprout?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He tilted his head, ignoring the pathetically weak insult. “You seem interesting.” His Shadows laughed at the blatant lie, sparking an almost alien amusement in his belly, but the insect didn’t seem to notice. Hm. He knew the Shadows had been locked away with him, but had it really been so long that no one had any kind of sensitivity to them? How long must that take?

“If you got something to say, then spit it out and leave.”

He glanced at Jiro’s gun. A Shadow rose up and wrapped around it, stuffing itself into various crevices and thickening into an almost glue-like substance, brushing Anzu’s arm in the process. She shivered at the brief contact. Interesting. He sent another to brush against Megumi, tugging her at gently until he had her attention.

“You have a spinarak.”

“A—what?” Jiro shook his head and snapped, “What about it?”

He held Jiro’s attention completely, using a just a touch of Shadow Magic to make what he was saying irresistible to listen to. Megumi crawled forward. He glanced at her, then flicked his eyes to the spinarak that sat on the back of Jiro’s booth.

“Do you know what someone is called when they train a Pokemon for battle?” Jiro cautiously shook his head. “The term, once upon a time, was ‘beast master,’ but I believe the modern game calls them ‘trainers.’ Do you know what happens when two trainers meet?” Another head shake, and he smirked. “Their Pokemon battle.”

“Veeee!” Megumi took the hint and threw herself at the spinarak. Several of the patrons screamed, including Anzu, who ducked down.

“The hell?!” Jiro ducked, then straightened and leveled the gun at his face. “Now you fucking die!” He cocked the gun.

Or tried. He smiled as Jiro tried again and again, the insect’s face slowly sliding from rage to horror. He slid from his seat, took Anzu’s hand, and tugged her up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Like hell you’re leaving!” The insect grabbed her, pulling her back, and smashed the handle of the gun toward his face. He leaned away from the sloppily-executed move, but it still forced him to let Anzu go. She flailed her arms to get her balance, hitting Jiro in the face. He steadied her and pulled her out of the insect’s reach.

A glance toward Megumi showed she was doing alright—not exactly well, she didn’t seem to have any battle experience at all, but instinct had her dealing as much damage as she received, at least. And, judging by the splotches of web on the floor, she was managing to dodge at least some of the attacks, but she was tiring; she was panting and her movements were slower.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, leading her a bit further away. Anzu nodded, cheeks reddening. He fought the urge to cringe and hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be one of those simpering girls who always—he mentally snorted when the memory cut off. Eventually, he would have to investigate that—every time he got close to remembering something, anything more concrete than the vague thoughts that popped up automatically, it disappeared. “Let’s go—”

Of course, the insect wasn’t about to give up. Apparently having realized the gun wasn’t going to work, Jiro had abandoned it on the table and launched himself at them, swinging for his face.

The hit connected, and all he saw was darkness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yuugi stumbled back, his ears ringing. A few moments later and his face started to throb. Anzu screamed from next to him—he looked to make sure she was alright, and it looked like she had hit another table pretty hard.

What had happened? The last thing he remembered was being in the kitchen, getting the vodka. But now he was in the dining room. He yelped and dodged the next hit almost automatically, his experiences with bullies fueling his reaction.

“Hold still, shrimp,” Jiro snarled, chasing after him. “Shouldn’t’ve played the fucking hero, brat!”

Yuugi’s breaths were fast and shallow, his chest too tight, too tight! Darkness ate at the edges of his vision, and he shook his head to clear it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Shut up!”

The darkness swallowed him whole.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He hissed as his eyes opened back up, his right cheek aching, just in time to dodge another hit. Like hell was he going to let Yuugi face this insignificant insect!

Still, insects were capable of biting, as this one proved, even if ultimately they were only a mere annoyance. He narrowed his eyes. The best way to deal with a biting insect, much like the bug-type Pokemon that sometimes attacked the fields, was with fire.

He dodged the next attack and, his body acting before he could consciously decide his next move, shoved Jiro backwards at the same time he swept the insect’s feet out from under him. The man landed in a pile of webbing left behind from Megumi and Spinarak’s battle. Jiro struggled to get upright, his face twisted with fury, cursing him with every horrible name and misfortune he could think of, but it held Jiro fast, covering his back and arms and holding like glue.

The Shadows hissed and snapped, a reflection of his own fury at Jiro’s attacks. They were hungry—Ushio’s punishment was entirely psychological and hadn’t allowed them to feed—and this man was a danger to him. Their fury deepened his own until it ate at him, leaving him trembling, but he still held back.

He is a danger, they insisted, displeased with his hesitance.

We are angry that he attacked you, our lord, they whispered, snapping in Jiro’s direction.

We are so very hungry, they whined pitifully, brushing against him like a begging purrloin.

“Insects like you deserve to burn,” he hissed. Feed, he told them, finally relenting. Burn his soul away. Slick, dark gratitude rose in his chest, a reflection of his Shadows’.

A multitude of Shadows, each tinted a different color, rose and engulfed the trapped man, worming their way in through eyes and ears and nose and mouth. Jiro gagged, briefly able to feel them just because of the sheer volume, before taking a deep, ragged breath.

Then the insect started to scream.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yuugi’s vision cleared, and he stumbled, this time from the sheer overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. His vision was blurry.

“Help!”

He shook his head to clear it, vaguely remembering having to do that earlier. His face ached. He reached up to touch his right cheek, hissing when pain flared under his fingers.

“I’m on fire! Help me, someone, please!”

His eyes snapped to the man who was screaming—Jiro, who was lying on the floor, thrashing. He seemed stuck.

Yuugi stumbled backward. The man wasn’t on fire, didn’t even look singed, but his screams and desperate pleas made him feel sick. He needed to-to—he looked around desperately, searching for something or someone who could help. Muffled cursing drew his attention to Officer Junsar, who was still wrapped in webbing, and he rushed over to her, helping tear the webs away.

“Officer Junsar!” Once he had gotten some of it off, she was able to tear through the rest herself.

She looked at him, then at the screaming, twitching form of Jiro. “Kid, what happened?”

Yuugi flinched. “I don’t know.”

“Yuugi!”

Anzu grabbed him in a hug. She still had traces of web on her face, around her eyes, and a few gummed-up strands of hair, but she didn’t seem to care about that.

“Was that you?” she whispered, as Officer Junsar stood to check on Jiro. He was vaguely aware of her calling for an ambulance.

“Was what me?” he whispered back. His stomach twisted.

She never got a chance to answer. The others ran to them, and she didn’t seem to want to ask with them there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

“Wh-where’s Megumi?” he asked, eyes widening when she didn’t come out from under the table.

“I think she jumped that spinarak,” Jou told him grimly. He nodded to a space past Jiro and Officer Junsar.

The eevee stood, panting, over the spinarak. Her fur was dirty, and a particularly bad cut dripped blood down her leg, leaving a thin trail across the floor, tracing the path of their battle haphazardly down the aisle.

The spinarak laid on its back, its remaining six legs curled inward, covered in scuffs, dents, and scratches. One detached leg lay in the middle of the floor, while another poked out from under a table, and its head was partially separated from its body.

He stumbled over to her, his legs refusing to work properly, and carefully picked her up. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to run away screaming. He wanted to cry.

He petted her carefully, running one hand over her to find any other major wounds that might be hidden by her fur. She slumped against his chest, clearly exhausted and hurting, and he fought back the sob that threatened to break free.

In the game you fought until your opponent was unconscious, and there were even cards that could revive your teammate to fight again. It was always specified in the rule book—unconsciousness. He had thought, somewhere in the back of his head, that if Megumi had to fight it would be the same way. Fight to unconsciousness. Wake up and heal and fight another day.

But this…he hadn’t expected this. Fighting to unconsciousness clearly wasn’t the default, and he could tell very well why she had ripped her opponent apart like that. He wasn’t a fool; he had seen the placement of some of the cuts and felt the others, all in areas that were vital—several around her neck and along her spine, and a shallow cut on her belly.

He almost lost her, and he didn’t want that to happen again.

#yugioh #pokemon #yugioh fanfiction #pokemon fanfiction #yuugi mutou #jounouchi katsuya #honda hiroto #anzu mazaki #miho nosaka #eevee #spinarak #prisoner 777 #officer junsar #awakening fanfic #the samaya court #tw dead animal

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