Hey, Moonwalkers! I'm so sorry for the long hiatus. This short story is a little different from previous ones, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. It is inspired by the anime Death Parade, and I've wanted to write it for a long time. If you haven't watched Death Parade, I highly recommend it. It's fascinating from start to finish. I do not own Death Parade, nor do I own the character Decim. All rights go to Yuzuru Tachikawa.

The elevator creaked and lurched as it carried you upward, but the sound of your pounding heart drowned out the clanks and squeals. Where am I? How the hell did I get here? You struggled to remember something. Anything. But you failed. Your mind was blank. You had no clue where you were or how you got there, had no recollection of stepping into the elevator. You had no memory of putting on the (your favorite formal outfit) you now wore. Had I been at a party? A date?

What happened?

You stood there, breathing fast. Your eyes welled with tears and your legs trembled beneath you, growing weaker and weaker until you feared they might give out. You backed into the wall and collapsed into a trembling ball.

The elevator groaned as it came to a stop. With a pleasant ding, the sliding doors opened to a dimly lit hallway. A glistening red tile floor stretched before you, sparkling in the golden glow of spherical lights the size of bowling balls that dangled from the ceiling. Paintings of wispy, white clouds covered the pale blue walls.

You stood and stepped into the hallway. You scanned your surroundings like an owl, waiting for an unseen predator to spring out at you. Ridiculous as it was, you checked behind you where the elevator still sat. You blinked in disbelief. There were two elevators, side by side. Each bore a strange mask on the wall above them. The mask above your elevator had a red face, an evil, toothy smile, and twisted horns. The other was white and had a peaceful expression.

You were so confused it felt like the world was spinning. Where the hell am I?

You squeezed your eyes shut and held your head in your hands, trying desperately to quiet your mind and think rationally. It was then that you noticed a sound, the soothing sound of trickling water. You looked in the direction of the sound; it seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway.

After a moment of hesitation, you started walking down the hall, following the red tile path. The hallway, you soon discovered, ended and abruptly and turned left, so you did as well. There was a lovely bamboo garden, complete with polished stones and flowing fountains that emptied into a shimmering pond. If you had not been scared out of your mind, you would have admired its tasteful beauty. Nevertheless, the sound of flowing water managed to slow your rapid heart rate.

"Please, come in," said a bodiless male voice.

You screamed and would have fallen into the water if you had not grabbed hold of a bamboo shoot.

You whipped your head in the direction of the voice and could not believe what you saw. A slim man dressed in a white shirt, a black vest, and a red bowtie stood behind what looked oddly like . . . a bar? Yes, you couldn't believe it, but it was a bar - and a luxurious one at that. It was constructed entirely of dark, carved wood. Six bar stools, lavishly upholstered with emerald green velvet, stood empty. Like a halo, a brilliant circular stained glass window shone in the center of the back wall, illuminating the room in blue and pink hues. On either side of the window were shelves filled with glistening violet, green, and pink bottles of what you could only assume was alcohol, but your terror told you it could be poison, or blood, or who knew what else?

"Please, do come in," said the man again. He looked young, but he had white hair that covered half of his face.

Breathe. Just stay calm. But fear consumed you as you approached the bar.

"Welcome to Quindecim," said the man in a monotone voice.

"Who are you? Where am I?" you cried. Your voice cracked with fear.

The man did not react to your panic. His face remained expressionless as he watched you with icy blue eyes. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Decim, your bartender." He bowed stiffly. "I believe I already answered your second question. Please, have a seat while we wait for our other guest." He gestured to one of the polished bar stools with a pale hand.

Our other guest? You thought it best to do as he instructed, so you took a seat. Just as you opened your mouth to ask him more questions, the elevator bell rang.

"Our guest has arrived," said Decim. You looked behind you and saw a man emerge from the hallway, dressed in red pajamas, looking just as dazed as you had been. But he was no ordinary man.

You knew his face, though you had never met him. His was the face that covered every inch of your bedroom walls, and his were the dark eyes you had spent hundreds of cumulative hours admiring. His was the voice that sang you to sleep every night, and although he was not smiling now, you knew when he did, he could light up your world.

It was Michael. Michael Jackson. Your idol.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of him, and for a moment you forgot your fear. You were overcome with awe, and you wanted more than anything to scream and cry with joy at the sight of him, but you held your tongue and tried to hide the fact that you were the happiest you had ever been in your life. You knew he must be afraid and confused and most likely not in the mood to sign an autograph.

Decim reacted no differently to Michael's arrival than he had to yours. "Welcome to Quindecim. I am Decim, your bartender. Please, have a seat," he instructed in the same emotionless manner. Michael cautiously did as he instructed. He took the seat beside you. And with that, the worst day of your life became the best one by far.

Decim turned his back to both of you and rummaged in a cabinet. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "Introduce yourselves. You will be spending the next few hours together."

Your face burned red as you turned to Michael. He looked nervous, but not for the same reason you were. The two of you exchanged a shaky, sweaty handshake.

"I'm Michael Jackson," he barely whispered.

"I'm (Y/n)," you squeaked. "It's an honor to meet you."

He grinned, but his eyes revealed his anxiety. He leaned in closer you. "Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but I -"

"Allow me to explain your circumstances," Decim interrupted, placing a large red button on the table between you and Michael. "First: I cannot tell you where you are. Second: The two of you are here to play a game."

"A game?" asked Michael.

"What are you talking about?" you said.

Decim continued as if he had not heard. "Third: The game will be chosen via roulette. When one of you presses this button, the roulette will decide which game you play." Just then, a large panel descended from the ceiling, landing behind him with a bang. It was a giant square spinner, bordered by neon blinking lights. It had an arrow at its center, and several game icons formed a ring around it: Billiards, Bowling, Darts, Twister, Air Hockey, and Cards.

You and Michael exchanged perplexed glances.

"Hold on a second," said Michael. "Why do we have to play at all?"

Decim ignored him and said, "Fourth: Until the game is over, you cannot leave this bar."

Michael shot Decim an irritated look. "We'll see about that," he said, rising from his stool. He took your hand (oh my god oh my god) and led you away. "This is ridiculous. Let's find a way out of here."

You followed Michael as he headed back toward the elevators. You tried pressing the elevator buttons, but the doors did not budge.

"This is insane," you said.

"Let's try this way," Michael said.

The two of you checked the whole place. Countless identical hallways twisted and turned in all directions, but not one of them led to an exit. You and Michael held your breath in anticipation whenever you encountered a door, only to sigh in frustration when they led to bathrooms or lavish sitting rooms.

You groaned and leaned against the wall. "What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry, we'll find a way. Come on," said Michael as he took your hand. Together you marched back into the bar room. As soon as Decim came into view, Michael shouted, "Tell us how to get out of here!"

Unfazed, Decim said, "I already told you. You cannot leave until the game is over."

"And if we refuse to play?" you snapped.

Decim's eyes glinted. "I would not recommend that." A chill ran down your spine.

Michael pulled you aside and whispered, "Let's go along with him for now. Who knows what he'll do if we don't."

Fear gripped your insides as you whispered, "Okay."

You pressed the button, and the arrow on the spinner twirled. After a few seconds of suspense, it slowed to a stop, landing on the Twister icon.

"Your game has been chosen," said Decim. The spinner blinked its lights and shot back into the ceiling. Decim gave a small respectful bow. "Please follow me."

You and Michael obeyed. Decim led the two of you down a dimly lit hallway, one that looked identical to every other hallway in the building. You walked beside Michael and stole glances at him from time to time. our breathing quickened and your palms sweat – not only because some creepy guy was holding you hostage, but because you were about to play Twister with Michael Jackson.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

Michael tapped you on the shoulder, interrupting your fantasies. "I tried to tell you this earlier, but this guy interrupted me," he whispered, gesturing to Decim. "I can't remember how I got here. Nothing. And I was just wondering if you . . ." his words died on his lips as Decim flicked his eyes in your direction.

"No, I can't remember a thing," you said. You were relieved. You weren't crazy, and if you were, then at least you weren't crazy alone. You were with him. You looked sideways at Michael and smiled.

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "What?"

Your cheeks reddened. "I really am ecstatic to meet you. I'm a huge fan, and I never dreamed I'd get to meet you. You've made this terrifying experience a little less terrifying."

His eyes twinkled. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. Going through this strangeness with a fan, someone I consider family, has been a comfort for me, too."

The word family left you speechless. It warmed your entire being. You wanted to respond, to thank him, but Decim stole your chance. He turned left and led you and Michael down a short hallway. Tall, carved wooden double doors stood before you.

"Your game will commence here," said Decim. He swung the doors open, revealing a massive room with intricate carved walls and chandeliers. A large Twister mat, white with rows of red, blue, green, and yellow dots, lay in the center of the floor. It was no ordinary mat, however; it was built into the floor, and the giant Twister spinner, wired to another red button, stood beside it. Decim stood next to the spinner and picked up the button. "Please, remove your shoes and socks, and take your places on opposite sides of the mat. I will press this button, and the spinner will determine which hand or foot you must move to a given color dot. If you fall or let any part of your body touch the mat when not instructed to do so, you lose."

Simple enough.

Decim looked at you and said, "You will be Player 1, and he will be Player 2."

"We have names, you know," you snapped.

"Your names are irrelevant. Game Start. Good luck." He pressed the red button, and the arrow spun. When it stopped, he announced, "Player 1: Left hand, blue."

You crouched and placed your hand on a blue dot. Piece of cake.

Decim pressed the button again and the spinner twirled. "Player 2: Right foot, yellow."

Michael hesitated before placing his foot on the nearest yellow dot.

You played with almost no effort at first, but the game did not remain easy for long. Soon enough, you and Michael had bent and folded into the most ridiculous positions, and soon after that, your limbs tangled with his. At the moment, he was on top of you, his long legs intertwined with yours. Gosh, he was so flexible, and his body was truly that of a dancer. Michael noticed you studying his body and bit his lip. You were in heaven. You wanted to squeal.

He's so close I can smell him!

"You smell so good," you said, practically whispering into his ear.

"Why thank you," Michael said, winking. "You smell pretty good too."

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!

Decim cleared his throat. "I encourage you to play more seriously."

You rolled your eyes. Why couldn't he leave you and Michael alone? "And why is that?" you asked.

Decim glared at you. "Because your lives depend on this game."

You went silent. All you could hear was your panicked heartbeat. Our lives? What is this creep saying?!

Michael clenched his jaw. "If you don't start making sense and stop joking around, I'll-"

"I do not tell jokes," Decim interrupted. "The loser of this game will die, and the winner will be spared." He pulled what looked like a controller out of his pocket. It had a single button. He pressed it and said, "The real game starts now. Good luck."

Images appeared on each dot of the mat. Red dots now bore the image of raging flames. Blue dots had snowflakes, and green dots had swirls of wind. Yellow dots had three question marks. You didn't like the look of that. You didn't like the look of any of them. Michael felt the same, you knew, because a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

The spinner arrow twirled. "Player 1: Right hand, red," Decim said.

Trembling, you made your move. As soon as your hand hit the dot, the surface of the mat blazed red hot like an enormous griddle. "Ah! It burns!" you screamed.

Michael cried out in pain. He looked at Decim desperately. "Are you serious?!"

"Please!" you begged. "Please, make it stop!" Decim said nothing and pointed at the spinner. It was Michael's turn, and the spinner had landed on Left hand, green. "Michael! Put your left hand on green!"

With a groan of agony, he slammed his hand down on a green dot. The mat cooled instantly, and you watched wide-eyed as hundreds of small holes opened up in the floor. Cool air burst from the holes like geysers.

Your scathed hands and feet were instantly cooled. "Much better," you said, but you spoke too soon. The air began to blow more forcefully, so forcefully that you could not breathe no matter how you gasped for air. I'm going to suffocate! You heard Michael scream, his voice smothered by the howling of the wind.

"Hurry!" he cried. "Left foot, blue!"

"Right!" You moved your foot to a blue dot. The wind ceased and air filled your lungs at last. The sound of your ragged breaths pierced the silence of the room. "Are you . . okay?" you cried in between gasps.

"I'm . . . fine. Are you?" said Michael.

"Yeah."

"Pay attention to the game or you will die," said Decim. "Player 2: Right foot, yellow."

You noticed a chill in the air, and soon you could see your breath. Your fingers and toes went numb, then your nose. In seconds, ice formed on your hands and feet. Rock-hard ice formed on your arms, legs, and face until you were half ice statue. I'm going to die. You looked at Michael, moving only your eyes. His limbs had frozen solid. We're really going to die. You sobbed, and your tears froze as soon as they formed.

The sound of ice shifting pulled you out of despair. You looked at Michael. He gritted his teeth and tensed his body, straining to break the thick sheet of ice that restrained his legs. You dared to hope. "Come on, Michael," you said, your teeth chattering. He struggled and struggled, clenching his jaw and groaning with the effort. Hope started to slip away; no one could ever break through ice that thick.

Crack.

You watched as the ice on Michael's legs shattered. Released from his restraints, he planted his foot on a yellow dot, and ice rained to the floor. Warm air flooded the room. The ice melted from your bodies and formed chilly puddles on the floor around you. You and Michael breathed heavily, holding your strange, twisted positions though your whole bodies quaked with exhaustion and stress.

You turned to Michael and smiled, tears rolling down your cheeks. "You did it."

"Never underestimate a dancer's strength," he said. His talk of strength did not match his appearance, though. His arms and legs shook like yours, and his pajamas were soaked.

"Are you okay?" you asked him.

He nodded. "Are you?"

Before you could open your mouth to reply, the floor began to shake. Like an earthquake. You looked at the yellow dot Michael's foot rested on. Question marks. That was the image it bore. The floor groaned and creaked beneath you. No. No, no, no.

With a loud clank of metal, the floor plummeted into blackness, leaving you and Michael standing on the color dots you occupied, which were only narrow pillars now. Too shocked to move or speak, you stared down into the black chasm below you. Hundreds of silver spikes at the bottom of the pit glistened in the dim light. You and Michael screamed, and tears stung your eyes like bees. You squeezed them closed.

"This can't be happening!" you shrieked.

"Help us! Please!" Michael screamed at Decim.

But Decim did not move an inch. "From here on, it is sudden death. As soon as one of you falls, the game is over," he said.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. Your heart pounded in your chest. This can't be! This just can't be! You turned to Michael. He hung his head and his long hair hid his face, but you knew what expression he wore: the face every human makes when the angel of death comes for them.

You grinned, finding comfort in the fact that the angel of death would not take your hero today. You would make sure of that.

"I'm giving up," you said.

Michael jerked his head up and stared at you with wide, teary eyes. Those beautiful eyes. As you stared into them for the last time, you hoped the next life, if there was one, would be as glorious as his eyes. "What did you say?" Michael cried. He knew what you had said. He just could not believe it. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Only one of us has to die, and it's not going to be you."

"(Y/n), please don't-"