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Manjoume had to admit that, entirely devoid of context, this had all the makings of a memorable evening.
A clear night sky, a gentle autumnal breeze, good company and a section of the island that was practically unexplored and begging for exploration. While he would normally have no trouble ignoring such a call to adventure, particularly when it pulled him from a comfortable bed, it was that aforementioned good company that had him lugging an unnecessarily heavy video camera and a bag full of bizarre gadgets to a mysterious location.
And therein, he told himself as he hefted the camera up and started recording, was the context.
His companion was far more eager for the taste of adventure than Manjoume was, practically vibrating as he stepped into the shot with his hands clasped in front of him. He was wearing a black silk shirt and a long grey scarf tossed over one shoulder. His long hair bounced as he walked, as though he were stepping into the frame of some luxurious shampoo commercial. Fubuki spoke and did his best to keep himself from breaking into an excited grin as he did so.
“Ladies, gentlemen and true believers of all stripes, thank you for joining us this evening. We are The Beyondernauts, your glorious guides to the strangest, creepiest and most haunted places on the planet. Every week we will bring you to a new world of possibility and, if you’re brave enough to stick with us, maybe we’ll even open your eyes to some new possibilities. Aaaaand cut to title sequence! How was that?” He asked, finally allowing himself a mighty grin. Manjoume flashed him a thumbs up over the bulk of the camera. “How is the chat looking?”
Manjoume frowned. He’d gone over this with Fubuki no fewer than three times in the run up to their outing. “It’s not a live feed.” He said, calmly. “We’re not streaming, so there’s no chat.”
“Right, right,” Fubuki clicked his fingers and looked thoughtful, “something to consider for next time. But for now, let’s get on with the investigation shall we?” He barely waited for Manjoume’s nod before giving a far-too-loud “aaaand action!”
The camera gave a small whir as it brought the host of the show back into focus, struggling momentarily with his wildly gesturing limbs.
“We’re here in front of the Duel Academy’s abandoned dormitory building. Once home to students from all over the world, this was a place of rest, a place learning and a place of camaraderie. Now long since given over to neglect, this building is home to nothing. Nothing that is except for perhaps…” He trailed off and by muscle memory from hearing his tone, Manjoume zoomed in to his expectant face. “Ghosts.” Fubuki made a verbal version of a musical surprise sting, prompting his long-suffering cameraman to motion that those sorts of things would be handled in the editing process.
The host of the show beckoned as he began to walk backwards towards the imposing, dark building, trying his best to infuse his voice with both menace and charm. Manjoume was sure that at least of one of those qualities outweighed the other pretty heavily.
“Join us as we attempt to uncover the secrets of the abandoned dorm. Who lived here? Why was it left to fall into ruin? What dark and hidden tragedies took place within these walls? Together we’ll find out after this brief sponsor break.”
~
If the exterior of the dorm building, dark and overgrown with wild greenery as it was, had been foreboding, then its inner workings were a sight of true malevolence.
Each corridor stretched on into an infinite gloom, deep and impossibly thick shadows swallowing up any hope of the pair getting their bearings within the building. A grand staircase led the way up into an area strewn with wooden doors, many long since rotten or fallen off their hinges, giving up and collapsing into the dust. A damp and offensive smell fought its way into Manjoume’s nostrils and refused to vacate.
Manjoume gripped the camera tightly and peered about, straining his eyes against the oppressive gloom and instantly wishing that he hadn’t. Every turn of his head or attempt to focus on something within the shadows had his mind playing tricks on him. He could see shapes darting through doorways or across the halls, ducking behind ruined furniture or melding into the abyss. He grimaced and imagined a dozen unsavoury spectres awaiting him and silently begging for him to drop his guard. He visibly tensed when Fubuki suddenly spoke again, louder than was necessary.
“This place is perfect,” he said, voice echoing down the halls and distorting with every repetition until it was a whispered rasp. “Alright, let’s get the night vision mode on and take a look around.”
Manjoume sighed, letting at least a little of the tension out of his body. He pressed a button on the handheld camera’s side and instantly his view became awash with sickly green and white, turning the abandoned building into a far more eerie affair. He hit record and his viewfinder was filled with the barely-contained grin of an excited Fubuki.
“We’re inside, walking the halls of this abandoned building and let me tell you, folks, the sensation of evil is palpable here. Every step we take, we disturb the dust and ashes of dark history, every breath we take is a lungful of malicious spirits. Also, probably asbestos.”
He motioned with his hand down the nearest corridor, his fingers making a theatrical wiggle as he began relaying the history of the building.
Manjoume wasn’t paying attention. With the glare of the night vision, he could make out the rows of doors along the left wall, all the way to the end of the hall now. Rather than stretching off into infinity, it came to a very definitive end with an unassuming table, topped with an empty vase. The immeasurable menace of the building had become suddenly very measured. It wasn’t the table or the vase that had caught Manjoume’s eye, however. It was the door at the very end of the hallway, ever so slightly ajar and allowing a peek into the room beyond. Even the reach of the night vision faltered here, creating a thin strip of blackness that seemed to mock Manjoume and the moment of victory he had felt against the shadows. Within that darkness, he swore he could see the murky outline of a human figure, a face looming from the void, eyes locked directly on him. As he pushed the lever to zoom in on the stranger, the door noiselessly drew closed, giving the corridor a final and unbroken appearance. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“You see something out of the ordinary, chat?” Fubuki asked, eyebrow arched.
“We’re not live,” Manjoume said quietly, distantly before shaking his head and frowning. “Wait, am I chat?”
“Thunder,” Fubuki draped an arm around his colleague’s shoulder, “in a way, when you really think about it, we’re all chat. No, wait, the real chat was inside us all along. No wait-”
“I think we should investigate that door at the end,” Manjoume interrupted, trying his best not to sound too panicked or frustrated. Fubuki followed his pointing, trembling finger, squinting into the darkness before looking back to the young cameraman. There was something in his expression that told Fubuki to pull back on his carefree attitude, at least just for the moment.
They crept their way down the corridor, Fubuki taking so much care to tread lightly that Manjoume almost figured that he was exaggerating each step on purpose, lifting his knees high and gently pressing his toes down to the dusty floorboards. Trailing behind ever so slightly, Manjoume made sure to keep the showman in frame at all times, partially for the sake of the show, but he also had to admit that he didn’t want to take his eyes off of the young man for a moment, not in a place like this. All it would take would be a moment of distraction and then someone would disappear, he knew exactly how these sorts of things were supposed to go down. For a moment he wondered whether he should be basing his ideas of what a real haunting would be like on the few horror films he had seen, but the thought was soon chased from his mind.
“What the hell is that?” Fubuki suddenly said, pointing over Manjoume’s shoulder. His voice wasn’t frightened or even startled, he sounded genuinely curious. Fingers tightening so hard that they threatened to dig into the shell of the camera, Manjoume turned on the spot, pointing himself in the direction he had been pointed.
It was in frame for only a second. A human figure, tall and slender, wearing some sort of decorative uniform. A mess of green hair framed a face that was covered by some sort of dark and pointed mask. By the time the camera was able to focus on it, the figure vanished, sliding through a solid wall without a sound.
“We got that, right?” Fubuki said, voice sounding strained and high. Manjoume turned and nodded blankly, unsure of what to say, the camera feeling like some sort of alien appendage in his numb hands. He let out a sudden choked noise that could perhaps have been construed as words, given enough leeway, his eyes widening with terror. Behind the other man, at the end of the corridor, the door had opened again. He made a stammered noise as he stared, willing Fubuki to turn around.
When he did, Manjoume wasn’t ready for the host’s reaction. Long hair flowing behind him, Fubuki broke into a sprint down the corridor, heading directly for the offending doorway.
“Stay with me, Thunder!” He shouted as he closed the distance to the yawning chasm. “We’re gonna catch this thing and get proof right on camera of-”
He was cut off by the door slamming, heavy and definitive, echoing throughout the entirety of the abandoned building. Dust was knocked loose from the ceilings and Manjoume wrinkled his nose at the scent of decay that came with it. He caught up with his companion just as Fubuki’s hand closed around the door handle, a smirk spreading across his lips.
“Are you ready for this, Thunder?” He asked, a small note of concern in his voice amidst the sea of child-like excitement. Manjoume listened to the gentle rasping on the other side of the door, like cloth dragged against old stone. A floorboard within the room beyond creaked. Something drew in a long, agonising breath and it took him a short while to realise that it hadn’t been either of them out there in the hallway. Finally, he gave a nod.
Fubuki turned the handle and flung the door open.