The broadcast sizzles in Ryuki's ears, an electric current of dread and fury. Fugitive. Dangerous. Signer. The words echo, mocking him from the static-laced airwaves. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking under his skin. Trapped. The abandoned factory, once a temporary refuge, now feels like a cage with a gaping hole that leads straight to Sector Security's magnetic binders.
He moves. The decision is immediate, visceral. Staying here is suicide. His boots crunch on loose concrete, dust puffing around each step. The air smells of rust and decay, a familiar scent in this forgotten corner of Satellite. He skirts around a leaning support beam, his gaze sweeping the shadows. No one. Not yet. But the calm is fragile, a thin membrane over a boiling pot.
His right arm, the one bearing the crimson mark, twitches. He can feel a faint warmth there, a ghost of its recent flare. He pulls his sleeve down further, as if fabric could truly erase what lies beneath. What use is a mark that brings only a manhunt? What use is this power, if it only serves to strip him of his freedom?
He needs to disappear. Needs to blend. His eyes scan the floor, the piles of forgotten debris. A tattered tarp, once covering something large and unidentifiable, catches his attention. It's a grimy, dark grey, ripped in several places, but the material is thick. Practical.
Ryuki yanks at it. The fabric resists, then tears free with a dry, rasping sound. He shakes it out, a cloud of fine dust erupting. It smells of damp earth and something vaguely metallic. He wraps it around himself, pulling the hood – a crude, asymmetrical peak formed by a particularly large tear – over his head. It drapes heavy over his shoulders, obscuring his face in shadow, hiding the outline of his body. Not perfect, but better than nothing. Better than the clear profile the news just plastered across the city.
He feels the weight of the card in his pocket, the 'Blue-Eyes Ultimate Spirit Dragon'. A taunt. A promise. It's the only real card he possesses, and it burns in his mind, a solitary beacon in his worthless starter deck. This isn't how he operates. He is a strategist, not some cornered rat. He needs his deck. He needs answers.
His mind circles back to KaibaCorp. The name, a distant echo of his past life, a symbol of power and advanced technology. If anyone in this world held the keys to understanding his situation, to finding powerful cards, it would be the inheritors of that legacy. But where is it? How does a corporation of that magnitude just vanish?
He takes a deep breath, the dust catching in his throat. He has no Duel Runner, no real cards, no allies. Only the tattered cloak and a relentless will. He will find answers. He will not be a pawn in whoever's game. He will not be a fugitive for long. He walks towards the factory entrance, stepping out into the pale, polluted daylight of Satellite.
---
The edge of the market throbs with a dull, persistent energy. Scavengers hawk salvaged electronics, children chase a deflated ball, and the distant rumble of Duel Runners from the Tops hums like a threatening wasp. Ryuki keeps to the deepest shadows, his makeshift cloak pulled tight. He needs information, but drawing attention is an instant death sentence.
He spots an old man hunched over a stall, selling what looks like antique trinkets and worn-out maps. His face is a roadmap of wrinkles, his eyes milky with age. A good target. Less likely to panic at a strange question, more likely to hold obscure knowledge.
Ryuki approaches, his voice a low rumble under the hood. "Excuse me. I'm looking for information about… the old city. Any records of a company called KaibaCorp?"
The old man squints at him, his gaze lingering on the obscured face. "KaibaCorp, eh?" He coughs, a wet, rattling sound. "That's a name from before my time, even. Pre-Zero Reverse, that was. Big shots, they were. Built half the original city, they say."
"Where would I find anything about them? Archives? Old buildings?" Ryuki presses, trying to keep his eagerness from showing. He clutches his hands inside the cloak, fighting the urge to lean in.
The old man gestures vaguely with a gnarled hand, a sweep towards the crumbling horizon. "All that stuff got buried. Or moved. After the Zero Reverse, the Tops took everything valuable, locked it away in their fancy museums. What was left… well, that's out in the outer districts. The ghost towns. No one goes there anymore. Nothing but rubble and bad memories."
Ryuki nods slowly, processing this. Outer districts. The name carries a weight, a sense of forbiddance. He thanks the old man and moves on, the information a tiny flicker of light in the darkness.
He tries a street vendor next, a woman with quick hands sorting through a pile of generic monster cards. "Do you know anything about powerful cards? Old, rare ones? Like a Blue-Eyes White Dragon?" He asks, the question a calculated risk. It's too specific, but it's vital.
The woman snorts, not even looking up. "Blue-Eyes? You dreaming, kid? Those are Tops cards. Museum pieces. Or locked away in some rich collector's vault. You won't find anything like that down here. Not since the Zero Reverse."
"And where would those vaults be? Or museums?" Ryuki persists, his voice carefully neutral.
She finally glances up, her eyes sharp. "In Neo Domino City, of course. Where else? You want a Blue-Eyes, you gotta go to the Tops. But to get there…" She trails off, a knowing look on her face. "You gotta cross the divide. And that means the outer districts. The old entry points. Good luck with Security, though."
Outer districts again. The pattern solidifies, a path slowly emerging from the vague directions. He tries one more person, a group of younger scavengers huddled around a broken data-pad. These might know more about the current layout, the dangers.
"Hey," Ryuki says, approaching slowly. "You guys know anything about the borders of Satellite? Old paths to Neo Domino?"
A skinny kid with a scarred lip, no older than Leo, looks up. "Trying to get topside, are you?" He grins, a flash of missing teeth. "Everyone wants to. But there's nothing but Security out there. They watch the outer districts like hawks. Ever since… well, you know."
"The Zero Reverse?" Ryuki supplies.
The kid nods, his grin fading. "Yeah. That whole area's a wasteland. But if you're looking for the old ways in, that's where they are. The old bridges. The crumbling tunnels. But you'd be crazy to go. Everyone knows that's where the bad stuff happens. The disappearances."
Disappearances. Security. Zero Reverse. The pieces click, forming a grim mosaic. His target, KaibaCorp, his deck, the answers to his displacement, all lie beyond the recognized boundaries of Satellite, in the dangerous, monitored ruins of the past.
---
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in sickly oranges and purples, reflecting off the grimy surfaces of Satellite. Ryuki stands on a crumbling overpass, the wind whipping his cloak around him. The view before him is desolate, a vast expanse of skeletal buildings and twisted metal. This is the outer district. The scar tissue of the Zero Reverse.
He hears the faint, rhythmic clang of metal on metal from somewhere below, a testament to the persistent efforts of other scavengers. They avoid this part of the city for a reason. But Ryuki isn't looking for scrap. He's looking for a past he barely understands, a future he desperately needs to reclaim.
His pride stings. He, Ryuki Sato, the prideful, reduced to skulking through ruins, asking beggars for directions. But his need for answers, for his true power, outweighs the humiliation. He refuses to be cornered, to be defined by anyone labels.
The air here is colder, heavier with the weight of history. He thinks of the Crimson Dragon, the giant beasts, the shattered city from his dream. Is this the landscape of a forgotten prophecy? The starting point of a journey he never asked for?
He adjusts his cloak, the rough fabric chafing his neck. Each step forward is a defiance, a rejection of the fate this new world try to impose on him. He looks out, past the immediate decay, towards where the gleaming towers of Neo Domino City prick the distant sky. Somewhere in that polished steel and glass, his answers lie. Or his doom.
Ryuki begins his journey on foot. Following the directions, he condemned the fate and began to make his journey.