WookieeBeta

Squirrel and pizza
Against gravity struggling
Hauling, not eating

My spattered windshield
Shows me scene of truth and life
Under cloud-free skies

Reflected highways
Mountain feet in the mirror
Pass as half-known dreams

~~ footprints at the gate ~~

From extreme youth, I was expected to always be the knight in shining armor.

Protect my sister? Fine.

Watch over the common folk? Sure.

Become Pharaoh, take on all the problems of an entire country and handle it flawlessly? Why not?

Save the world from the powers of the Shadow Realm? No problem.

Become a life-size guardian angel to a sorely lost young man in a completely unfamiliar century? All right.

Like I said. Knight in Shining Armor syndrome. Really, though, it's never bothered me. It's never been easy, and I've had my fair share of bad moments, but on the whole...it's what I was born for. Destiny, Fate, whatever you want to call it. It's just who I am.

So it wasn't the fact that I was, once again, rushing to the last-minute completely-unplanned almost-sure-to-go-wrong rescue that bothered me.

It was the fact that I was doing so while sitting in Yuugi's room in front of a laptop.

But perhaps I should back up a bit.

I am, to put it simply, a three-thousand year-old Egyptian spirit trapped inside a magical artifact. Yuugi is your everyday Japanese teenager. He also happens to be my direct descendant, and, interestingly enough, my reincarnation. Between the artifact, the blood relation, and the whole born-again thing, plus a bit of ancient Egyptian magic, we are similar enough that I am able to literally take control of his body. To possess him.

Which is why I, not Yuugi, was cursing at the dial-up connection.

I appreciate computers as much as the next spirit. They are wonderful sources of information and of entertainment. Unfortunately, they are equally good sources of irritation, and old faulty laptops and dial-up connections do not a won auction make.

What does eBay have to do with rescues? It's actually fairly simple.

I am not unique, you see.

There are plenty of other spirits floating around, even today. I am personally acquainted with several from my own time - ancient Egypt, that is, not the twentieth century.

Moreover, my people were not the only ones who thought trapping peoples' minds inside inanimate objects was a good idea. The practice actually began earlier. Much earlier. As in, thousands of years earlier, before recorded history. And in those times, a young girl from a middle-class family grew very, very ill. Her parents could not afford what little treatment was then available. They could, however, afford to affix her soul to an item, to prevent her from truly and finally dying. So they paid the local medicine man to seal the girl into a necklace.

How do I know this?

Thousands of years after the fact, my mother presented me with the very same necklace. The girl - her name was Aibou - began to talk to me. Then, when my life was in considerable danger (and by 'considerable danger' I mean one knife to my throat, several more to my back, and a handful of nearly-mortal wounds already inflicted just to keep things interesting), she possessed me.

It's astounding, how much damage two terrified children trapped in the same body can inflict.

To keep a (very) long story short, Aibou and I became close friends, and then we fell in love. And then, about the time I was starting to think that maybe life wasn't such a bad thing after all, some nut decided to seal me into an item.

I haven't seen Aibou in three thousand years. Truth be told, I thought the necklace would have been long destroyed. It should have fallen apart centuries ago now. But it hasn't. I'm not sure what exactly has happened, actually, but I know that now, that necklace is in the possession (no puns intended) of a man called xXantiqueboutiqueXx, and if this confounded connection doesn't time out on me again, it is my full intention to win it.

Aye, I ken weel enouch wot yer sayin'
But we havena the penny tae spare
For I sent it a' aff tae ma bairnies -
Twa sons wha I'll ne'er see mair.

Och I ken weel enouch why yer greetin'
An' I canna say I've no' felt the same
But dry yer een, lass, an' keep workin -
Yer brithers are no' comin' hame.

An' I ken weel enouch wot they've done -
They've left their ain country behind -
But we'll no' think worse o'em fer tha', lass;
'Tis oor job tae keep 'em in mind.

Och I ken weel enouch why yer greetin'
But ye'll hae tae move on a' the same -
Sae dry yer een, lass, an' keep workin',
Fer yer brithers are no' comin' hame.

I.
Artificial gravity
Of a physical nature.

II.
As the ball bounces along the floor
It snaps away,
One of many.

III.
Once, an item of use.
Now, a misshapen lump of sticky goo
Holding the pen and the marker as one.

IV.
Thin, thick
Long, short
Pink, green, or brown
The miser's dulcimer strings.

V.
Never beginning, never ending,
Until the burden becomes too great -
Then, discarded.

VI.
Descendant of twine
Predecessor of the plastic bag
Mailman's friend

VII.
Utility for the father
Weapon to the son
Endless annoyance for the mother
Prized bracelet to the daughter

VIII.
I walked through the hall,
Blissfully unaware,
And it struck me in the face
With all the force of a blinded junebug.

IX.
Would reality seem less fragmented
If it were held together
By a cosmic rubber band?
I think not.

X.
Dark-skinned at ease, full-bodied;
Thin and pale under stress;
Stretched to the limit, and beyond,
Man snaps, like a rubber band.

XI.
The rubber band is all that holds together
The stacks of correspondence -
All that is left
Of our past.

XII.
The elf-child stands
And raises his makeshift weapon;
The dwarf growls
And shoots the rubber band back.

XIII.
Alas! the circle has broken;
The end has come;
Thus falls the fearless rubber band,
That bane of the Creative Writing class.

She is tired. She is waiting. She is tired of waiting, of sitting patiently while the world passes her by. She longs - no, she yearns for a new opportunity. This time, she will not hesitate. This time, she will not stray. This time, she will not fail.

This time, I will not fail.

I thought I was right
I thought I was wrong
I wasn't sure
I'm still not
But now I know
That it's going to work out
That things will be okay
And even if it hurts now
We'll make it through
Together
Apart
We'll make it through
It doesn't matter, really
It never did
I'll go on loving you
As I always did
And you'll go on loving others
As you always did
And somehow, we'll find that place
That distant point somewhere in the middle
Where it all works out
I thought I was wrong
But now I know I'm right

Paralyzed by what could have happened
Stunned by what has
Waiting for all to be become
A nightmare
Laugh
Cry
Sing
Run
Watch in silence
And hope

No need to be alone
Anymore
Release the pain
Let go
Of the past
Of yesterday
For it will not change
Tomrrow
No need to be
In love
Anymore

Pull me down from the sky
Set my feet back on the ground
Teach me the meaning of life
And never leave me

Show me the mountains, and give me the stars
Take me to the edge of the Universe and beyond
And bring me back again
And never leave me

Tell me why the sun seems so small
And how the birds fly
Give me everything
But never love me

Please

Prologue

"Ayame..."

"Yes, Shigure my love?" The slim designer's voice was innocent - too much so. Shigure frowned.

"What exactly did you buy for three hundred and fifty dollars last month?"

"Why, whatever could you mean?"

The brown-haired man's frown became more intense. Aaya was suddenly very focused on one hidden seam in his latest (and one of his most extravagant) evening gowns - a seam that even the apparel-challenged writer could with full confidence call perfect.

"I'm just curious. Usually you tell me what you buy."

The white-haired designer became suddenly pensive. Shigure blinked.

"...or perhaps I don't want to know...?"

Aaya stood up wordlessly and crossed the room, throwing the closet door open with something rather less than his usual dramatic flair. Shigure watched in equal silence, eyes worried. It had been many years since he'd seen the man this withdrawn, this careful, this...emotional.

Reaching into the back corner of the closet, shoving aside bolts of fancy cloth and plastic bags full of scrap material and pattern sketches, Ayame pulled out a cardboard box that Shigure had never seen before. It was unmarked and unopened. There was a lighter spot where the address label had been ripped off. Someone had pulled up the corner of the masking tape that held the top flaps of the box together, but stopped after only a few inches.

"I thought you might not want to see it," Ayame said quietly as he set the box down on the table in front of Shigure. He retreated to the doorway, made as if to leave the room, then paused, one hand on the doorframe above his head and the other hanging limply in space. He didn't turn, but neither did he go on.

Hesitantly, Shigure opened the box. He removed the layer of plain white tissue paper that covered whatever was inside and placed it carefully on the table. He slid his hands down the sides of the box and lifted the neatly folded package of black fabric, shook it out over the floor, nearly dropped it in surprise. It was a large theatrical-style cloak, complete with oversized hood and overcape that stretched around the shoulders and reached just past the wearer's elbows.

His fingers trembled as he draped the cloak gently over one arm and reached again into the box. This time the tissue paper was black. He unfolded it quickly, nervously, revealing a cold, white, and all-too-familiar mask.

A piece of paper with torn edges and folded with infinite care fluttered to the ground. Shigure bent and picked it up, realizing only then that it had been torn from a piece of sheet music; he unfolded it, read the few words scrawled there in a neat but unsteady hand, and sank silently into his chair, still clutching the scrap between his fingers. Ayame moved equally noiselessly, left the house, walked down the street with his head bowed and his thoughts travelling to another time, another place.




--------------------------------------------------------------

Overture

The Paris Opera House was a magnificent place - rich, luxurious, and expansive. It was the gathering-place of every name in the city. So it was no surprise that Philippe Georges Akito, Comte de Chagny, knew his way around quite well.

His younger brother, however, did not.

Shigure had become thoroughly lost the instant they entered the real world of the theatre, where singers practiced their scales and dancers drilled themselves for hours on end over one short sequence, where the fantastic and the grotesque were commonplace and it was the absence of either that was unusual. The young man was visibly nervous, fidgeting with his cuffs as he stared wide-eyed at the chaotic activity that flowed on all sides around him. A giggling crowd of dancers flitted past, and the nature of his blank look suddenly changed. A wide smile spread itself over his face as he stepped forward to catch the eye of the last dancer. A slim brunette with rather untamed hair, she was the -

"Shigure!" Akito snapped. "Leave the girls alone and come this way. We're going to be late if you keep wandering off." The black-haired man disappeared through a fancifully carved door, and Shigure had no choice but to follow.

A boy with brilliant orange hair snickered as he passed. "Too bad, 'Mione. From what I hear down in the stables he would have been just your type - absolutely useless, and always with his nose stuck in some book or other."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione replied shortly as she shifted Paris Opera House: A History to her other hand.

Shigure had to leap out of the way as a blonde-haired blue-eyed streak charged past, closely pursued by a pink-headed blur. The wind of their passing came as a physical blow. Shigure blinked.

"And you wanted me to be patron of this place," he asked as he finally caught up to his elder brother, "why, exactly?"

"Because it wouldn't hurt you in the least to learn a little responsibility," was the cold answer. "Now be quiet, and stop pulling at your shirt. You've already wrinkled it."



The Queen was impressive, the Empress dazzling, but Ayame made the show. In something less than twenty-four hours he had completely destroyed and rebuilt Ino's costume from the inside out, and now he was simply resplendent in cascades of the purest white. His silvery hair literally twinkled with innumerable flecks of diamond that snatched the light of the great chandelier and threw it back out in a thousand and two sharp glints. But all attention was on his voice, not his dress.

Ino had a good voice, when she chose to use it. Ayame's was the syren-song come alive, the crystal notes of the stars themselves. Delicate and full, touched by the lightest accent, it carried laughter and chimes and trumpets all at once and, effortlessly, nearly managed to drown out the entire orchestra. Even the prima donna's devotees were silent with awe.

Think of me, think of me fondly
When we've said goodbye
Remember me once in a while
Please promise me you'll try

In a shadowed box seat to the left of the stage, a man stirred.

When you find that once again you long
To take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!

He leaned forward in his seat and focused his opera glasses on the white spectacle center-stage, oblivious to all else.

We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember,
Stop and think of me

He stopped, and he thought.

Think of all the things we've shared and seen
Don't think about the things which might have been

A scarf caught by the wind, so many years ago.

Think of me, think of me waiting
Silent and resigned
Imagine me, trying too hard
To put you from my mind

The sun on the sand, and two boys laughing as they danced away from the waves.

Recall those days, look back on all those times
Think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day
When I don't think of you!

The name came suddenly with all the force of a full-fisted blow.

"Can it be?" Shigure cried, lurching from his seat to lean out over the railing as far as he dared. "Can it be Aaya? Bravo!"Off to the right someone in the audience hissed, and the orchestra became suddenly louder, but he paid no heed.

"What a change," he murmured, taking a step backwards, "you're really not a bit the gawkish boy that once you were. You may not remember me, but I remember...!"

We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But please promise me that sometimes
You will think - of me!

As the final drawn-out note faded from the air, the opera house fairly exploded in applause, but the heavy door to Box Five hung open, the right-hand curtains still rippling in the wind from its former inhabitant's passing.

Or perhaps it was not the wind, after all. Moments after the theatre emptied, a tall slim man shook his way free of their heavy folds and moved to stand in the middle of the box, eyes fixed on the deserted stage. His arms nearly quivered as he wrapped his hands around the rail. He murmured a name to himself - Ayame - and then slipped through the door and down the hallway before disappearing around a darkened corner.

Another pause, and then a soft groan.

"Whatever happened," Hatori muttered darkly, "to the days when a man could watch an opera in peace?" His knees popped in unison as he stretched long legs for the first time in hours, unfolding himself from the cramped shadows behind the left-hand column. The black-haired man grimaced as he wondered what exactly he'd done to deserve not one but two extra visitors in what he considered his private box. The former manager, the good M. Flitwick, had kept the box empty in return for the occasional small favor; few cared to ask why exactly it was that the Opera House had suffered so few robberies recently. Hatori was accustomed to odd schedules and enjoyed wandering the theatre at obscene hours. If scaring off the local scum meant he got free operas every week or so, well then, who was he to complain? Plus, the rumors of phantoms and ghosts that necessarily arose among the superstitious youngsters at the Opera served to keep all but the most adventurous above-ground. Hatori didn't consider himself to be the secretive type usually, but when one was hiding from society in general, having the Opera House's catacombs almost entirely to oneself tended to make things easier.

He tossed a quick glance at the stage, wondering. That lead singer certainly hadn't been Ino; he just wasn't sure who it had been. Regardless, this "Ayame" was quite talented, and he was rather looking forward to the next performance. If only he didn't have to deal with those two other men...

Stepping around to the back of the column with a frown, he ran his hand quickly over the smooth marble until his fingers found the tiny but familiar depression, and then with the soft rumble of stone on stone he was gone.

Box Five waited, silent, vacant.


Ayame shifted uncomfortably on the saddle, twitching the folds of his dress. The thing was a bit revealing even for his tastes. But between unending practices during the day and secret meetings with Shigure and the Phantom all night, he simply hadn't had the time to design his own costume. At least the seamstresses had stopped trying to sew in extra padding... His lips quirked in amusement, but the smile melted into a frown before it had a chance to form fully.

The black-haired man stalking along a full two strides ahead of the horse was muttering under his breath. The Phantom rarely showed his moods so easily.

"What's...?" Aya started tentatively, then trailed off as the Phantom tossed a quick glance in his direction. Green eyes roiled with barely-restrained emotion. They lingered mere instants before flickering away again.

The taller man lengthened his stride still further, pulling the horse almost to a trot behind him. It was an effort not to run. The other direction. The dark walls of the catacombs pressed in around him, a physical force that tried to pull the breath from his lungs and tear sanity screaming from his head. He felt as if he were falling into an eternal pit of the darkest, most endless black. He half believed that he would never see the light of day again, half hoped for it.

Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair, he thought bleakly, down we plunge to the prisons of my mind. Down this path into darkness deep as Hell! His fists clenched, the nails digging deep enough to draw blood.

"Phantom." Ayame's voice was flat.

The darker man glanced up again, quickly, but straightened his fingers with an effort and slowed his walk.

"...yes?" he asked quietly.

"You've known me for a fair while now, and still I hardly know you at all. So far, I've gone on your word and blind trust. I think maybe I deserve some answers."

The taller man looked up again, green meeting gold in a cold stare. Green was the first to shatter.

"I...can't tell you everything," he said softly. "But I will answer what I can."

Ayame frowned slightly, deep in thought; his eyes rested consideringly on the back of the Phantom's head, and for once he wasn't thinking that the man would look so much better in embroidery.

"Why?"

The Phantom snapped."Why?! Why, you ask?! Why, bound and chained, hand and foot with no bonds at all, to such a dismal place?! Not for any mortal sin - just the wickedness of my abhorrent face!" His black stage cloak snapped like a banner as he turned away, braced his closed fists against the unrelenting stone wall, reined in his temper with something approaching physical force.

softly there
brace 'er round
no bottom on this line, sir
pipe to dinner
beat
to quarters
light braids and dark skin
bare feet
patter
loose the mains'l
aye aye, sir

tall, straight, scarred
proud
hat athwart-ships
ever moving, never moved
golden wings
clipped
free
yes, sir

and a half eight
let go the anchor and
take in the mains'l
aye aye, sir

frantic
panicked
impossibly busy
spars, spars everywhere and nothing
to hoist
the casks are split
deep green water
all the meat, gone
weevils won't touch the hard-tack
and the yard
is empty
indeed, sir

ashore now
laden pockets
a bottle of wine
a compliment
a cocked ear
a bow
a smile
(lee side, if you please)
and aboard
aye aye, sir

empty belly
empty hold
away
she's a trifle unwieldy, sir

rolling, swinging, singing, sighing
dying
hauling, sweating, breathing
bleeding
holy bible and
articles of war
halve the rations
aye aye, sir

rolling thunder
lightning steam
a breath of air and
rain cascading down the sails
isn't it wonderful, sir?

stow those forward
and those there, aft
take the chest to the doctor
manila line -
we're twenty yards short
ask the yard for more
fresh roast and beer for all hands tonight
aye aye, sir

clear skies, fair breeze
a call from the masthead
evening
roast beef of old england
night
stars are hiding
moon is sleeping
wind is rising, and
glass is falling
squalls
reef the mains'l, haul in the topgallants
another reef
thunder that isn't thunder
sea anchor
alive with topmen
cast it loose
port your helm
port your helm
hard a-lee
rudder doesn't bite, sir

(sunshine)
(green fields)
(crisp air)
(well-known cards)
(open door)
(envelope)
(orders)
(aye aye, sir)

black
cold
friendless
injured
tossed
a toy
we'll never make ushant on this tack
steady your helm
sick
and frightened
breakers ahead
mizzenmast falls
whipped around
listing
righting
and free
limping now
fighting
black cliffs looming
towering
threatening
main fores'l rips
scraps of number one sailcloth
handkerchiefs?
looming
towering
threatening
approaching
sir...

The minute hand clicked over another notch, but regretfully. It crawled impossibly slowly towards that final stupendous moment when the class would fall silent, the bell would ring, and all pandemonium would break loose as three thousand teenagers raced for the exit.
But for now, Viserys Stark still had thirty minutes of History to suffer through.
The class quieted a bit as Mr. Coaltin wheeled the television set to the middle of the room. He was a tallish man, going grey around the edges, and even though his lectures were generally intolerably dull he was well-liked by most of his students.
"Now don’t get your hopes up too much," he warned as he plugged the set in. "It may be a movie, but you’ll have a quiz over it first thing next class. So I’d suggest paying attention." He pressed play and stepped back.
As it turned out, Viserys would rather have heard another lecture. The film was a documentary on the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Utterly enthralling. One could spend a lifetime studying just the layout of the theater and how it contributed to the president’s death!
His sarcasm must have shown in his face, for Coaltin sent him a warning glance. Viserys resigned himself to watching the thing. He couldn’t afford to fail another quiz in this class anyway.
Now that he was actually paying attention, he realized that the documentary wasn’t so bad as he’d thought. The narrator’s voice faded away, replaced by the soft murmur of hushed voices broken into intermittently by the actors onstage speaking their lines. Coaltin had apparently turned the lights off, for the room was dim. Viserys shifted in his seat in an attempt to make himself comfortable.
Wait. Since when were the chairs cushioned? And with velvet, no less?
He glanced to either side of him, not realizing that he had never intended to move his head. His scrambled mind was slow to realize that the people to either side of him weren’t his classmates, that Coaltin was nowhere in sight, and that the stage was most certainly not a picture on a television screen.
He was in the Ford’s Theater.
And unless he was very much mistaken, he had an excellent seat.
He cast his eyes upwards, not meaning to but not having any control over the action either. The door in the back of the Presidential box was opening; Lincoln must have summoned someone in. Satisfied that his charge was safe –
his charge?
- he turned back to watch the –
television?
Viserys blinked. He was back in the classroom and the lights were still on. The narrator continued to ramble on about something to do with a horse. All this registered in his mind at the same instant, immediately followed by the realization that he was, for no apparent reason, falling over. He put out a hand to stop himself and
grasped the door handle, turning it slowly – carefully – so that no stray noise would alert the unsuspecting man on the other side. The thrill of icy rage that had driven him earlier had evaporated, leaving in its place a quiet, deadly calm. He knew what he had to do.
The door opened, and he stepped through. The cold hilt of his pistol seemed to slide into his hand of its own accord. One of the women looked up (I should probably kill them too, he thought, ...but I won’t) and he raised the gun and fired in one swift uncalculated movement. The planet stopped in the midst of its revolution; by the time the president's body had crumpled to the floor, he was across the box and over the balcony. He twisted in midair to avoid landing on the theater seats. Not fast enough! He landed on one foot, grimaced at the sound of his ankle fracturing under the unaccustomed stress, and then he was
crying out in pain, the hand that he had thrown out to catch himself now flying back to his throbbing ankle. Viserys hit the floor with a resounding thud.
"What the?"
"Hey, man, you all right?"
"What’d’ya fall outta yer desk for?"
"Quiet, in the front!"
Breathless, head spinning, Viserys pulled himself back into his – thankfully hard and plastic – seat. He didn’t notice the class snickering quietly at his fall and they, in kind, didn’t see that as he walked out of class half an hour later he was limping heavily.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Several weeks passed without further incident. The pain in his ankle had dissipated fairly quickly and by the time he went to bed that night he had almost convinced himself that it had all been one long hallucination. The only reminder of the entire experience were the bonus points he’d gotten on the quiz for knowing exactly how Booth had broken his ankle.
Viserys meandered into his math classroom, bag slung over one shoulder and mind focused more on the homework he’d forgotten to do than some vision he wasn’t even sure he’d had. Usually he sat in the far back corner of the classroom, behind his friend Nik, but today Nik was absent. Viserys glanced out the window. A light wave of dizziness washed over him; he paid it no heed, attributing it to the fact that he hadn’t eaten in nearly thirty-six hours. Nevertheless, he sat down in the nearest desk, two rows away from his normal place.
The bell rang, and his math teacher Mr. Verrel started in on his daily drone. Today it was compositions of equations. For all that he hated it Viserys was in reality fairly strong in math; he understood the lesson already, having explained it to a senior the year before, and he felt no compunction about letting his attention drift.
The midmorning sun streaming through the window played across the dust motes that frolicked through the otherwise still air. Viserys watched them lazily. Lost in thought, he did not hear the first vague rumble; by the time the second rolled through the classroom a few seconds later, it was too late to do anything. The giant window pane slipped easily out of its precarious perch in the ill-crafted sill and landed with a tremendous crash on what on any other day would have been his and Nik’s heads.
The glass shattered, sending tiny glittering missiles flying in every direction. They bounced off of wire-rimmed glasses, lodged themselves in elaborate hairdos, and skittered across the polished desks to clatter to the floor on the other side. One particularly pointy piece drew a long scratch along the underside of Viserys’ chin. Fortunately the window had been made of safety glass, and save for a few other equally minor abrasions no one was hurt.
Verrel gave a sigh of relief at this and then proceeded to inform them all – quite vehemently – of all the shortcomings of the custodial department. He pressed the security call button while he gesticulated with the other hand. The class buzzed animatedly, ignoring him, and told each other in emphatic voices how they were going to report the entire event to the local newspaper. Viserys held his tongue, but that afternoon he went home deathly pale for the second time in as many months.

"I can’t find anything wrong with him," the doctor told Ana and Jonathen Stark. "Physically he’s perfectly healthy, if a bit underweight – nothing a few square meals and some decent sleep can’t fix. I’ve prescribed a minor sedative to take care of that. He appears to be mentally sound as well; there’s nothing in any of the tests – psychological or otherwise – to suggest any instabilities. All I came up with was drug-induced hallucinations, but the lab ran those tests too and he’s squeaky clean. That’s a good kid you’ve got there."
Ana forced a polite smile.

Viserys dragged himself – almost literally – up the short flight of stairs and into his room, were he promptly collapsed onto his bed. He was unbelievably exhausted. Not surprising, considering that he’d only gotten about an hour and a half of sleep in the last two weeks. And those had been snatched only at odd moments during class, between the visions.
He’d finally had to accept them as reality. The first few weeks’ worth had required visual stimuli to set them off, and the transition had been smooth and relatively slow; now they were apt to come at any time and were always breathtakingly sudden. He estimated that he spend rather les than fifty percent of the day in his own time and body. The nights were even worse. The flash-visions (they usually started with bright flashes of light these days) began the instant he walked through the door and often didn’t end until one of his parents propelled his barely-conscious body out the door in the morning. Today the warm fuzzy feeling from whatever that doctor had given him seemed to be keeping the things at bay. He felt quite confident that he knew the entire history of the patch of land upon which his house stood, all the way back to the dinosaurs (though those were vague and fuzzy, rarely more than brilliantly colored impressions).
It was interesting in a way, he thought. The ones brought on by visual stimuli – television, movies, pictures, even a sign across the street – had generally involved other people, other places. But those that seemed to occur spontaneously had always been visions of the precise location in which he was standing. Just on a hunch, he’d stayed for a moment in History class and sat in the seat behind his own; apparently his experience with the Ford’s Theater and his subsequent fall had taken all of about three seconds. Funny. It had felt like hours.


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[A/N] Yes, I know - yet another version of this same freaking thing. This makes what, six? Seven? I lost count a while ago. Changing some characters, relationships, and in a fairly major way the plotline... No worries, though, we should be out of Mandreka and into Khrennad pretty soon. The only thing I really have left to figure out before I can continue with something akin to confidence is the "Enemy." I still don't have a name, a motive, anything...grrrr. (Usually the bad guys are what I have the easiest time with.) Anywho, I'm off to go find some grub before I die. *is huuuuuungry*

Random Quote:
Perhaps in time the so-called Dark Ages will be thought of as including our own.
- Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (1742 - 1799)

Prologue
I can't help but wince as the full force of my weight comes down on my injured ankle. One thing is sure: I certainly managed to do a number on myself last night. Physically I'm not in very bad shape - a sprained ankle, broken wrist, gashed shoulder, and what feels suspiciously like a cracked rib, in addition to the usual scrapes and bruises - but I'm impossibly exhausted. My skin is raw, as though someone just got finished rubbing sandpaper over it. I can hardly keep my eyes focused.

But, I say inwardly as my bleary gaze travels over the street, I'm still a lot better off than most of the other villagers are. All I lost last night was chakra and some blood. They...they lost brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, sons, daughters...everything. It pains me immeasurably to see a genin team - or rather, what's left of it - weeping over their fallen comrade's fresh grave.
I look discreetly away and blink furiously. It doesn't help much, but at least I'm not crying outright. A brief flash of fury rises in my throat, directed at the Hokage - how could he opssibly be so cruel as to send new, inexperienced genin into battle?! - but the feeling dies almost instantly as I remember that he had no choice. The attack last night was rivalled in bloodiness and anguish only by the one three and a half years ago, when the former Hokage's young daughter was among the many slain.

I shake my head to clear it. No point in dwelling on that now, I tell myself sternly. Just you get to the Hokage and find out where to go help. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I hasten onward.

I don't get far.

Long-trained instincts tell me exactly when the street goes silent, and I stop in my tracks, ears pricked for danger. It takes me a moment to realize what the pale, tear-streaked faces are staring at. Even I have to make an effort not to gasp.

The road I am standing on intersects another larger road, which leads by the village's sole ramen shop in one direction and the Ninja Academy in the other. To my left - towards the ramen shop - stands a tall slim man with hair the color of midnight. his dark slacks and t-shirt are rumpled; there's a rip across his side, and I think the discoloured blot beneath it is actually a bloodstain. Fresh, if I'm not mistaken. His eyes are locked on something far past me.

I follow his gaze and find myself staring at Konohagure's one and only Lady Sakura. her uniform is also rather the worse for wear, which surprises me - Lady Sakura is always meticulous about her appearance in public. But what really floors me is that her shoulders are stiffened in a singularly instinctive defensive posture. I have never seen her show that much surprise.

Even the wind has hushed now. My heartbeat - somewhat irregular now that I know Lady Sakura is so close - rings far too loud in my ears, and I wonder that she can't hear it. It is as though time has all but stopped. I think if someone pulled out a kunai right now, they could slice out a piece of the air and stuff it into their pocket.

I bring my attention back to the left just in time to see the man's lips quirk in something that could almost have been a smile. Then the moment is broken as both he and Lady Sakura continue their separate ways with steady, measured treads. The rose-haired ninja ducks around the corner and nearly collapses against the wall; it is only now that I realize her emerald eyes are swimming in tears.

"Sakura," I murmur, stepping toward her. She looks up, but it is obvious that she does not see me. Her legs do not seem to be working properly, and I blink as she stumbles into my arms.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Chapter One
Uchiha Sasuke took three long deep breaths and released each more slowly than the previous, willing his heartbeat to slow to normal. His hands clenched as though they embraced the well-worn handles of his kunai.

"Go easy there, son," the grey-haired nurse chuckled. "You're not going into battle."

"No. If I was, I wouldn't be this terrified." His nearly emotionless tone was negated by the wry smile that played across his face.

The nurse struggled to suppress a loud guffaw. When he'd finally regained control of his laughter, he said, "Ah, but just look at it this way. If you've survived this long, then you've already faced the worst of it. After this you can always call a baby-sitter."

"True..."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Konohagure Hospital was no different than any other hospital Sasuke had ever seen. The chairs were the same hard plastic; the air was still ten degrees below zero; the walls were the same flat white. And in the maternity ward, even the sounds were identical. The young man winced as another agonized scream ripped through the air. It sounded as though another unsuspecting husband was recieving the same treatment he'd been given.

The door nearest him swung open, and the elderly nurse stepped out. He looked a little haggard, but still managed to smile reassuringly at Sasuke as he said, "I think your wife will see you now."

Not even eleven years as a top-level juunin could keep the spark of fear entirely out of his eyes.

Sakura gave him a wan grin when he entered, and he relaxed a bit. It looked like the nurse had drugged her. He tried not to glance at the metal sidebar that was now bent nearly in two and discarded on the floor. As much as he loved her, his wife truly did scare him sometimes.

Fortunately, it was an easy birth, and only a few hours later they were the proud parents of a new baby girl.

"So, what are you going to call her?" the nurse asked. He was letting the higher-level professionals run the last round of tests in the background and devoting his full attention to taking snapshots of the infant in her father's arms.

Sasuke blinked. Come to think of that, what were they going to call her? They'd always assumed it would be a boy, so they hadn't settled on any female names beforehand.

"Naruta," Sakura suggested.

Sasuke shook his head negatively. "Sakura, that's...too close. You know I have problems with that."

"Something completely different, then?"

"Well..."

The nurse cocked his head to the side. "You're naming her after that demon Naruto?"

Sasuke's face went stony. His fingers twitched as he fought to keep them away frmo the pouch at his side, where he habitually kept his shuriken.

"Narika," Sakura said quickly, attempting to dispell the tension before her husband turned murderous. "What about Narika?"

With visible effort, Sasuke turned his back on the cowering nurse and forced a smile. "Yes. Narika."

It took two hours, three pills and a long hot shower for Uchiha Sasuke to calm down that evening.

[To Be Continued...maybe]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[A/N] ...yeah. Randomly inspired semi-songfic that I came up with...oh, I don't know, four months ago now? The song, by the way, is "Opens Your Heart" by The Billys. You can look it up, or e-mail me and I'll send you the lyrics. maybe I'll post 'em here, who knows.
Don't expect this to move real fast. (A) I haven't got the time to really sit down and write it, and (B) I really don't have the inspiration right now. I just wanted to get what I already have written down up and posted somewhere, so I don't lose it again *sweatdrop* More coming as it gets written...

Random Quote:
Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.
- Victor Hugo (1802 - 1885), Les Miserables, 1862

It was a dark and stormy night. Howling winds whipped the sea's surface into white-capped waves and tossed them carelessly onto the shore, where they pounded mercilessly against age-old stone. A lone bird struggled against the storm.
Miles below the surface, a giant submarine building swayed ever so gently. A tiny camera swiveled to stare out of a neaby porthole; the water was darker than usual, clouded with swirling filth and sediment. The mini-computer within the camera recorded the weather and sent the data on to the central terminal. A quiet beep was the only acknowledgement.
"Ra-damned storm," Marik cursed. Having lived on a boat for several months just recently, he knew what the almost unnoticeable vibrations under his feet meant. He also knew that this was the one time he couldn't blow anything up - if he breached the outer hull, the giant ship would have to surface, and in a storm of this magnitude that was out of the question. And he couldn't exactly take over the world if he died here, could he?
"Stupid stupid Ra-damned storm..."
The other minds contained within the structure were blissfully unaware of the storm. Or, rather, this particular one.
"Why in hell did he have to lose during the Ice Ages?!" Jou raged. "It's fricking freezing!"
Yuugi shivered violently, hugging himself to conserve at least some warmth. "It's not as bad as it could be, Jou," he said. "At least Kaiba won, and Mokuba's back where he should be. Right, guys?" He tossed a glance over at the Kaiba brothers, but the elder was busy wrapping his trenchcoat around the younger, so he recieved no reply. Biting his lip to keep back a sigh, he plowed onward through the rising snow.
"We've got to get to shelter," Shizuka said a long while later. Her voice was weak. "I'm...going numb..."
Honda, still trapped as a robo-monkey, jumped from her shoulder onto Jou's and scrambled up onto the blonde's head. "There's something big not too far away. We can try for that," he reported. It took another hour and a half of forcing their way through knee-high snow (considerably higher for poor Yuugi) to make it there; 'there' turned out to be the lee-side of the overturned truck.
"Never thought I'd see this again," Jou sighed. He ran a hand over the icy steel.
"Never thought I'd want to," Otogi retorted, scowling. He'd been tossed from the back, thanks to Jou's wonderful driving skills. "My back still hurts, thanks to you."
Yuugi collapsed against the truck, thanking every deity he could think of for the relative warmth it provided. Anzu followed suit. He leaned his head against her shoulder for a moment, wanting nothing more than to fall into the deep blackness of sleep, but then his eyes snapped back open.
"You're shivering!"
"And y-y-you're n-not?" she chattered, gesturing at his own quaking form.
He gave an embarassed grin, but peeled off his school jacket. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "Take this."
"But what about you?" she asked incredulously. He shrugged, and she took the offered jacket hesitantly. "Thanks, Yuugi," she murmured.
"You're welcome..."

Blackness. Blissfully warm. No monsters, no Big Five, no dueling, no cold, no fear, no danger...just warmth, and softness, and comfort.
"Yuugi! Yuugi, get up!" a familiar voice snapped.
Yuugi groaned in protest, but didn't move; he was so warm...
"Move over, Kaiba - you and Mokuba get going! I'll get Yuug and follow ya, okay?" Jou? Why...why was Jou being nice to Kaiba? Something must be wrong! Suddenly worried, Yuugi clawed his way towards consciousness, but he was suddenly tired...so tired...
"Come on, Yuug, we gotta go," Jou said, kneeling down by his sleeping friend and shaking his shoulders. "Come on, buddy, wake up...you can't sleep any more, the Big Five are coming, we gotta go! Come on, Yuugi, wake up!" Yuugi moaned and curled up into a tight ball; Jou's anxiety increased considerably. The little guy never took this long to wake up. "Yuug? Yuug, you okay, man? Look, we haven't got time for this - I'm just gonna carry ya, all right?" No answer; no surpise there. The blonde stooped and wrapped his arms around his freezing companion, lifting him into the air and heading off at a lumbering run.
He's light, he realized suddenly. Too light... "You gotta start eating more, buddy," he commented aloud.
Behind them, four imposing silhouettes (and one not so imposing penguin) followed relentlessly.
The heat of Jou's torso on Yuugi's bare arms was a blazing inferno; he whimpered softly and tried to wiggle away, but Jou grasped him more tightly. Slowly, so slowly, his own skin began to warm, and the agony faded.
"Jouno," he murmured eventually, "Jou, put me down, I can walk."
"You sure?" Jou asked concernedly. "You don't look so good..."
Yuugi shook his head. "I'm fine, Jou, really I am...just put me down, all right?" The blonde hesitated, but he carefully set Yuugi's feet down in the snow and helped him stand straight.
"Come on, we gotta move," he urged. The two took off at a dead run.
"What's going on?" Yuugi panted a moment later.
"It's the Big Five again. Now that Kaiba's put Noa out of the picture, they found a way to escape from whatever virtual prison he put 'em in and are after us again. And I think," he added with a glance over his shoulder, "they're gaining."
The only thing heard for some time was the sound of their feet crunching the snow.

Icy blue eyes peered out from behind a heavy steel door and glared through the thickly falling snow. A strong fist slammed against the wall.
"Where in the seven hells are they?!" Kaiba raged. "Even if the chihuahua was carrying Mouto, they should be here by now..."
Huddled against the far wall, Mokuba heard his older brother's outburst and stood. "Seto? What's the matter?"
Kaiba frowned. He didn't want to worry his brother, but then again he was a smart kid. He'd just figure it out on his own anyway. "It's the mutt," he finally said. "We weren't that far ahead of him and Mouto when we left. They should have caught up to us long ago."
"Yeah..." It was the black-haired boy's turn to frown. "I hope they're okay."
Kaiba ruffled his brother's hair. "They'll turn up. They always do." Mokuba grinned, and the two walked back over to where the rest of the group was huddled.
Otogi lounged against the side of the hangar, eyeing something in the middle of the large rooms. "Hey, Kaiba," he said as the young CEO drew closer.
Kaiba raised an eyebrow at him.
"You think you can drive that thing?"
"What thing?"
Otogi pointed at the helicopter. Kaiba ran an appraising eye over the frame before hopping into the pilot's seat and resting his hands on the controls. He gave a small smirk.
"Of course I can. It's the same model as mine."
"Well, that's good."
"Any particular reason you wanted to know?"
"Because," Otogi said, suddenly grabbing Anzu and Shizuka's arms and propelling them toward the chopper, "we need to get out of here!" Kaiba's eyes snapped upwards to the window; in the uncomfortably near distance loomed the Big Five's deck masters. He cursed.
"Mokuba, get up here!" he snapped. The younger Kaiba vaulted up next to his brother, already reaching for the copilot's headset.
Honda blanched. "Mokuba's helping drive?"
"He's licensed. You're not. End of story," Kaiba snapped. "We're skimping on the pre-flight, Mokuba; just get her started."
"Right." Their hands flew back and forth over the console, Kaiba occasionally reaching over to move a lever Mokuba couldn't quite reach. As strange as it looked, it was obvious they both knew exactly what they were doing. A moment later, the motor roared to life, and the chopper ripped through the roof of the hangar.
"Er, Kaiba?" Anzu asked hesitantly. "Any particular reason we're heading straight for the Big Five?"
"Never played chicken, Anzu?" Mokuba retorted.
Kaiba snarled. "Left on eight. Two. Three. Four..."
Shizuka and Anzu clung to each other for dear life as the big-bellied helicopter bucked wildly. Honda's metal head met the ceiling with a nasty crack, and Otogi was thrown against the wall; then the flight path steadied again, and in the front both Kaibas were laughing.
"I told you watching Pearl Harbor was a good idea!" Mokuba sniggered.
Kaiba grinned. "But that was in planes. This is completely different."
The four passengers sweatdropped. Kaiba...was laughing? Smiling? Joking, even?
"This is so seriously screwed up," Anzu muttered. Behind them, the virtual businessmen-slash-deck masters regrouped, but the chopper was already pulling away.

The chopper was quiet; Kaiba and Mokuba were relaxed, simply enjoying the freedom of flight, and Otogi, Honda, and Anzu were all asleep. Shizuka was staring absently out the window.
Kaiba tossed a glance back in her direction, and a small frown crossed his face. Poor girl. But he had to admit, she was holding up extremely well. The first thing she'd seen after her operation was her brother being pulled into the depths of Domino Harbor by a large anchor; then she'd been thrown into the virtual world, left on her own, and no sooner had she found Otogi and Honda than was Honda defeated in a duel, and as a result tossed out of his own body. Now she was riding in a helicopter copiloted by a ten-year-old, wondering where her big brother was...if he was even alive. Yes, she was holding up extremely well.
"Seto," she said suddenly in a strangled voice.
The CEO jumped; only Mokuba ever called him that. "Yes? What is it?"
She pointed out the window, down at the shockingly white snowfall. "I think that's Jou and Yuugi down there!"
"It is," Mokuba said tersely after a quick glance.
Kaiba shook his head. "We can't stop. If we do, the Big Five will catch up, and then we're all done for."
"But Seto - !"
"No buts, Mokuba," Kaiba snapped. "We - we can't. It's out of the question." His voice was ragged, edged in something Mokuba couldn't quite identify. He shot a glance at his older brother.
"Well, that's just too bad then, because we're going in!" he decided. He knocked Seto's hands away from the console and spun the chopper around, heading back to the almost-invisible duelists.
"Yaaaaaaah!"
"What? What's going on?"
"Kaiba, where are we going?!"
"Mokuba!!"
The black-haired kid tossed an unsure grin at the furious brunette. "Sorry, Seto...but I can't just leave them there! We've got to try!"
Kaiba's glare intensified for a moment, but then he sighed. "Fine. I'll take her in; you and Otogi help them in, and then we're taking back off. Got it?"
"You bet!"
The glittering snowbanks loomed closer.

"Jou!" Yuugi exclaimed, pointing upwards. "Jou, look!"
"Wha...? Aw, man! Come on, Yuug, we gotta get out of here!" He grabbed the shorter duelist's arm and began dragging him in the opposite direction.
"No, wait, Jou - that's Kaiba driving the helicopter!" He felt like doing a jig. They were saved! But wait...Kaiba didn't look happy. He kept glancing backwards and frowning at something. Yuugi shaded his eyes with a hand and searched the skyline. He cursed.
"What is it?"
"It's the Big Five," Yuugi growled. "They're too close - Kaiba'll never be able to get back off the ground! We've got to do something, Jou!" They started jumping up and down, waving and shouting for Kaiba to turn around, but the CEO steadfastly ignored them. The chopper slowed and stabilized.
WHAM!
Even from so far away, Yuugi could hear the screaming. Something very big and very heavy had hit the side of the helicopter, knocking it out of control; now it was plummeting towards the ground. Then suddenly the wild spin changed subtly; the blades kicked back into gear, and the chopper settled professionally into the snow. The door swung open.
"Come on!" Mokuba yelled. "We've gotta move! Come on, let's go!"
The two duelists took off at a dead run. Jou soon outpaced his shorter friend; he hesitated in the open door and glanced over his shoulder.
"Yuugi! Yuugi, look out!" he screamed. The shorter duelist spun around, and his eyes widened in fear: Jinzo, Psycho Shocker was standing just behind him, a ball of deadly energy already forming in his hands.
Thinking quickly, Yuugi pulled a random card out of his deck and held it in front of him, calling on dormant Shadow Powers to bring the monster to life. Big Shield Gardina shimmered into being just in time to take the brunt of the hit. Even so, the force of the blow sent him tumbling head over heels and forced the air from his lungs.
Jounouchi started back out of the chopper, but an iron hand on his arm pulled him up short.
"No," Mokuba shouted. "No, Jouno! Let him go! We have to leave!"
"But Yuugi - !"
"Get in!"
"Yuugi!"
Bleary-eyed, Yuugi tottered to unsteady feet. "Just go, Jounouchi! Go with Shizuka!" He pulled another card from his deck, and the puzzle glowed.
||Let me help,|| Yami said.
||No. It's too cold for you, you'd freeze to death - this is my battle.||
||But aibou - ||
||I said no, all right?!|| Even mentally, his voice was breaking; the sound of the helicopter taking off behind him sounded more like burning bridges than anything else he'd ever heard. Sure, he'd faced death before, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
"Well, well," Jinzo gloated. "Look who's decided to stay and play. I guess I'm going to get a new body after all."
"In your dreams," Yuugi snarled.
The deck master didn't reply. Instead, he collected another sphere of energy between his palms and sent it flying at Yuugi; still winded, the young duelist couldn't move swiftly enough to dodge it.
||No! Yuugi!|| The puzzle flashed for a brief instant, and Yuugi felt himself thrown roughly into his soul room as the spirit took over.
||What? Yami! No, don't - !||
||Yuugi...I'm sorry...|| He felt the spirit separate from him, and as his eyes refocused he could just make out the ghostly form, limp on the ground.
Gentle violet eyes narrowed and glinted in sudden rage. "Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl," Yuugi growled, pulling two cards from the top of his deck. "Annihilate him!" The mages leapt forward to attack; Dark Magician Girl brought her staff down on Jinzo's head, but the armored mage spun at the last second, sending a blast of black magic to intercept an attack rushing towards Yuugi. The young duelist dropped to his knees as the two attacks collided overhead and cancelled each other out. He drew another card and tried to summon it, but no luck; having two monsters in action was already too much of a strain on his limited powers, he couldn't support a third.
By now the other members of the Big Five had caught up and entered the fray. Dark Magician Girl fell first, destroyed by an attack from Deep Sea Monster; the other mage just managed to save his master from another direct attack by throwing himself in its path. Still standing protectively over his unconscious dark's form, Yuugi brandished his Millennium Puzzle as a weapon, swinging it at the end of its chain like a mace; Nightmare Penguin learned the hard way just how sharp its edges were. But the gundam wasn't bothered by the cold metal, and it wrapped its iron fingers around the young duelist's neck. Yuugi kicked and writhed until he could struggle no more; he fell limp, and the gundam tossed him easily through the air to land crumpled several yards away.
"Jou," he whispered, and then everything went black.

The blades spun in a never-ending pattern, and Kaiba leaned his head against the back of the seat for a moment. Might as well enjoy the peace while it lasts, he thought darkly. The fact that there was peace at all bothered him; it meant they weren't being pursued. And that meant that the Big Five were busy elsewhere.
There was a muffled thud as Jou banged his head against the window again.
"Cut it out, mutt," the pilot snapped through gritted teeth.
Thud.
Kaiba growled. "Katsuya..."
Thud.
"Jou, please stop," Shizuka pleaded. "You're going to hurt yourself."
The blonde seemed to collapse into himself. "It's all I deserve," he muttered under his breath.
Blue eyes snapped open. "God damn it, Jounouchi, stop beating yourself up over it!" Kaiba snapped. "That's in the past - there's nothing anyone can do. It's not your fault. He made the decision to stay, not you. He chose to sacrifice himself; don't waste his life by giving yourself a concussion now, dammit! We don't have time - I don't have time - to deal with your emotions!"
"What in hell would you know about it?" the blonde snapped back.
There was a stony silence during which Mokuba took the opportunity to steal a glance at his older brother. He jumped; Seto was actually holding back tears.
"Nii-sama...?" he asked softly.
The brunette's face was suddenly emotionless, all feelings hidden behind an impenetrable mask. "Just know this, chihuahua," he said stonily. "The next time you do that, I will personally throw you out of this chopper."
The blonde looked like he was about to retort, but Shizuka put her hand on his shoulder and he kept his mouth shut. There was no point arguing, anyway. Kaiba was right on one account: There was nothing he could do about it now. He sighed, and turned his head so Shizuka couldn't see the single tear coursing its way down his face.

"Seto," Mokuba said softly, gently nudging his brother. "Seto, wake up. They're back."
The young CEO snapped awake, mentally berating himself for falling asleep in the first place. "Where are they?"
Mokuba jerked his head backwards and said, "They're behind us. I just now saw them; I don't know how long they've been there. Everyone else is asleep."
"All for the better. That means I don't have to deal with the mutt's comments."
"I thought you'd say that," Mokuba said, smiling sadly. "But what are we going to do, Seto? We've only got another hour's worth of fuel left - less, if we have to dodge them. And we're helpless on the ground."
The older Kaiba wracked his mind for a solution. "The helicopter!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Damn it all! Why didn't I think of that earlier? Mutt!"
"Huh? Wha?" Jou blinked, trying to figure out who was talking.
"Good morning. Look under the seat and tell me if there's a laptop or something under there."
The blonde blinked again, this time in confusion, but looked anyway. "Yeah, there is. Why?"
Kaiba smirked. "Those idiots. If I can get maybe fifteen minutes with that computer and this chopper, I can hack into their system code and create an exit portal. Hold on; I'm going to try to lose them."
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?!"
Kaiba pointed through the windshield. "You see that snowstorm over there?"
"You've got to be kidding me..."

"Seto, we can't keep this up much longer!" Mokuba shouted. "We're almost out of fuel!"
"I know," was the terse reply. "I'm going to bank left and bring us out of the storm. Unless I've gotten turned around, we should come out right next to a mountain; the six of you are all going to jump out as soon as we get close enough, all right?"
"But what about you? I'm not leaving without you!"
Kaiba spared a moment for a quick glare at his younger brother. "Oh, yes you will. As soon as you jump, I'm turning this scrap heap around and giving those bastards something to worry about. I'll open two portals from in here; one for you, one for me. We'll meet back up in the real world. If anything goes wrong, use the radio in my collar to contact KaibaCorp.; my secretary will help you, or she'll find herself out on the streets."
"But Seto - !"
"Left on three...two...one!"
There was a collective "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" from the back of the helicopter; the sky cleared as they broke through the edge of the blizzard, and sure enough there was the mountainside looming dark and immovable before them. The CEO's keen eyes picked out a relatively flat spot instantly, and then they were there, the door was open, and Kaiba was shouting orders. The five passengers in the back tumbled out one after another and landed in the snow.
"Now you, Mokuba," Kaiba yelled. "Go on!"
"Seto, I can't - "
"Damn it, Mokuba, just do it!"
"But Seto - !" There were tears streaming down the young boy's face, and Kaiba wasn't too far from that himself. He pulled his younger brother into a tight, quick embrace.
"I love you, Mokuba," he whispered. "Now go. I'll see you soon, I promise."
"I love you too, Seto," Mokuba whispered back. Then he wiped his face with his sleeve and leapt wildly from the chopper, landing gracefully on his feet. Seto tore his eyes away and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
If you screw this up now, he's dead, he reminded himself. He spun the chopper on its tail and headed straight towards where the Big Five were just coming out of the giant storm, simultaneously reaching backwards and catching the laptop as it skidded across the seat.
"Come on, come on, come on..." The computer seemed to take an agonizingly long time to boot up, but as soon as the screen appeared he started typing furiously. Minutes ticked by.
His eyes flicked up to the controls for an instant as the fuel gauge started flashing red. "Damnit! Too soon, too soon... Come on, you stupid machine!" Lines of code flashed by, and finally the screen came to rest on a single highlighted section. Kaiba smirked and went back to typing. It was easy; they were using a code he'd written years ago.
The red light flashed again, and the engine sputtered.
WHAM!
"Poor suckers," Kaiba muttered. He snapped the laptop closed and put his hands back on the controls. He had one last thing to do before he jumped through the portal waiting just beyond the still-open door.

"Stupid stupid Ra-damned storm..."
THUD. THUD THUD THUD.
"Owwwww! Otogi, get your dicey butt off of me!"
"Honda, you're - you're not a monkey anymore!"
The brunette blinked. "Hey...you're right! Woohoo! I'm me again!" He leapt up off the floor and did a quick celebratory dance.
Shizuka frowned. "Hey, guys...where're Mokuba and my brother?"
THUD.
"Nooooo! Setoooooo!"
"...never mind. Mokuba, what's wrong?"
"What in the seven hells?!"
Mokuba sniffled, trying valiantly to bring his voice back under control as he climbed to unsteady feet. "Seto... Nii-sama...he - "
THUD.
"Stupid fucking Moneybags!" Jou yelled, slamming his fist into the ground. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
" - the helicopter," Mokuba finished. "He...blew it up...and I don't think he got out... Setoooo!" He fell back to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself and shaking. The ground around him was darkening with his tears.
"Shhh...shhh, Mokuba, it's okay," Jou said, giving the raven-haired boy a tight hug. "Everything's gonna be okay, I promise."
"Jounouchi..."
Anzu and Otogi stared at the pair blankly, still trying to accept this new tragedy. Shizuka was weeping, too, whispering, "Seto-kun...Yuugi-tachi..."
Marik finally managed to connect the random bits of sentences into a logical sequence. "So, the Pharaoh and his high Priest are dead, then," he smirked. He turned and started walking towards the blimp. "Best keep your eyes open, Rishid."
Jou stood suddenly, leaving a sniffling Mokuba still huddled on the ground. "You keep your vile hands off him, d'you hear?!" he shouted.
Marik raised an eyebrow. "Why should I? Is the little chihuahua going to bark at me if I don't?"
"Why you..." Jou growled. "You of all people have no right to call me that!" He jumped forward and attacked the Egyptian dark empty-handed.
Marik whipped his Rod from its customary belt-loop and smacked it against the side of Jou's head, sending the poor blonde stumbling away. Jou fell to one knee and winced as a thin trickle of blood coursed down the side of his face.
"Idiot mortal. You know you can't win against me." He unsheathed the blade at the end of the Millennium Rod and stalked toward Jou, deadly intent flashing in his eyes.
Mokuba scrambled up and ran to stand in front of Jounouchi. "You leave him alone, creep!"
Marik growled. This little rat was getting in his way. He grabbed Mokuba by the neck and lifted him single-handedly off the ground, grinning insanely as the boy struggled against his grip. Jou growled and tried to stand, but his knees quaked and gave out under him; he fell back to the concrete floor and moaned.
"A single one of you moves, and I strangle Mokuba," the Egyptian spirit snarled. There was a moment of absolute silence. Then...
"Keep your grimy hands off my brother," Kaiba whispered. Marik jumped; no one was quite sure if it was from surprise, or from the sudden introduction of Kaiba's fingers to a vulnerable pressure point. The Egyptian gave a quiet exclamation of pain and released his death grip on Mokuba. Kaiba's fist met Marik's jaw, and the bronze-skinned dark slumped to the floor unconscious.
"Seto!" Mokuba leaped blindly into his brother's arms, clinging to his neck and letting loose the flood of tears he'd been choking back.
"I think it's high time we get out of this place," the elder Kaiba said.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Three weeks passed. Kaiba won the Battle City competition by default, as each of the other competititors were either disqualified or forced to forfeit (Bakura, Isis, Rishid, and Mai lost their duels and were therefore disqualified; Marik was placed in a mental institution; Jounouchi was diagnosed with a concussion and had to forfeit; Yuugi hadn't made an appearance since the virtual world). Jounouchi had recovered from his injury, and Ryou had used the power of the Millennium Ring to release Malik and Mai from the Shadow Realm and restore his own yami to his proper Item.
Life was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy.
"You know I could whoop your butt in a fair duel, Moneybags!" Jou yelled across the courtyard. The CEO kept his back turned. "What, you scared? Scared of facing a little ol' puppy like me? Wimp!"
"Put a sock in it, Katsuya," Kaiba yelled back. "I've got work to do. I'll take you out for a walk later, how does that sound?"
Ah, yes. Semblance being the key word. Kaiba's near-disappearance had brought Mokuba and Jou together, and as a result the blonde and the brunette had been forced to learn to tolerate each other. Kaiba had even agreed to pay for Jou's hospital bills, seeing as how the blonde certainly couldn't pay for them himself, and his father couldn't either.
"Only if you feed me first!"
"Burger World at three-thirty?"
"You're paying!" Business transactions concluded for the day, Jou turned back to his lunch and his open algebra book. "I hate logarithms..."

Absently picking up his own sandwich, Kaiba flipped open his laptop and settled in for half an hour of uninterrupted work. No one would bother him during the lunch period; they knew better. But today he wasn't quite as pressed for time as usual. His new Board of Directors was reasonably competent; so far they'd only had to turn to him once or twice, and even then they'd carried out his instructions thoroughly instead of forcing him to do it all himself. As a result, he was actually managing to keep more or less ahead of schedule, and therefore had the luxury of spending an entire half-hour on his own personal project.
A few clicks later, he'd pulled up a map of the world's underwater currents and overlaid it with a previously charted map. There were a few noticeable variations: One just off the coast of Taiwan, but that was a government project (he would know, he was indirectly funding a good portion of it), another just west of Great Britain that had been stationary for several years, and a third off the south coast of the United States. Hmm...interesting... That wasn't there yesterday. And the disturbance off of Nova Scotia is gone.
He pulled up another chart, this one of the topography of the ocean floor in the Gulf of Mexico. Over three thousand meters deep in some places - plenty of room for Noa's underwater base, he reflected. It didn't draw more than 500 meters, although it could withstand much greater pressures. But the disturbance in the north-west sector... More typing, more maps. There. Alaminos Canyon. Not too far off the coast of South Texas. The canyon had already been extensively studied; there would be no activity there for several years at least. It was perfect.
Too perfect.
Kaiba frowned. He'd managed to track the base down, yes, but that still left one question: If he'd defeated Noa and destroyed the Big Five permanently (which he assumed was true, given that he hadn't heard anything from or about them in weeks, and they were not the type to stay quiet long), then who precisely was moving the base? And with such precision? It just didn't make sense.
But it didn't matter. He would destroy the base and its internal computer system regardless.
He smirked.

"Seeya later, Honda," Jou said.
The brunette grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Hey, where're you going? I thought you were coming to the arcade with me and Otogi."
"So did I," Jou replied. "But Mokuba wanted me to come over for a while. Se - Kaiba's going out of town today, and the poor little guy didn't want to be alone all evening."
"But doesn't he usually go with his brother?"
Jou nodded. "Usually, yes. But this time Moneybags said no, since he doesn't know how long he's gonna be gone and he doesn't want Mokuba ta miss any more school."
"Well, I suppose that makes sense..."
"Yeah. I'll see if Mokuba wants to come hang out at the arcade, okay?"
"Sounds good - see you 'round!" The two separated, the brunette heading for the front exit while the blonde made his way to his locker to grab his books. Ever since he and Kaiba had more or less gotten over their differences, the CEO had been giving him a bit of a hand with schoolwork; his grades had improved considerably, and he wasn't about to let them fall again just because his unofficial tutor was halfway across the world. He could figure natural logs out on his own...right?
If not, he could always ask Mokuba.

"Hey guys!" Mokuba chirped, bouncing into the arcade with his eternal hyperness. "What's up?"
"Otogi's score," Honda groaned. "He's absolutely destroying me! Not to mention wasting all of my money..."
The black-haired chibi grinned. "Here, let me try!" Honda stepped aside, and the young Kaiba took over the controls. In all of seventy seconds he'd quadrupled his score and wiped out Otogi's character, not to mention beaten the previous top score.
Honda just shook his head. I shoulda known.
"So, who'd you beat?" Jou asked, leaning over. "Other than...ah." The first set of initials on the screen was, of course, Mokuba's, but each of the sets below it was the same: YYM. Yuugi Mouto, or possibly Yuugi no Yami Mouto. Half-forgotten guilt rose again in his throat, and he turned away.
"Oh, Jouno...I'm sorry," Mokuba murmured. If only he'd remembered... Of course the top scores on this machine would be his. It had been his favorite for years. Mokuba mentally cursed himself for forgetting something so obvious.
"It's all right," the blonde replied, ruffling the short kid's hair. "It's not your fault." It's not your fault. He made the decision to stay, not you. He chose to sacrifice himself; don't waste his life...! Jou shook his head, trying to forget Kaiba's words from so long ago. How long now? Was it really only three weeks? It felt like ages.
"Hey, wait a second," Mokuba said, frowning as he peered at the screen. "Someone else must be using his initials, Jouno."
It was Jou's turn to frown. "Why? What gives you that idea?"
"Look at the dates on the side. These scores are from yesterday!"

"A short, spiky-haired kid, you said?" the teenaged cashier parroted. "Yeah, he was in here yesterday. Didn't stay long; played a few games on that machine over there and then left. Only reason I noticed him was because of his hair."
Jou tensed. "What precisely about his hair?"
"Well, it was all spiky and shit, and had three colors - pardon my French, kid," he added, glancing at Mokuba.
The latter's eyes were wide. "Jou...that's him!"
"Who, 'him'?" The cashier frowned. "Hey, you guys aren't stalking this guy, are you?"
"No...he's a friend of ours who's been avoiding us recently," Otogi replied when he realized Mokuba and Jou were too busy muttering to each other to answer. "Has he been here any other time?"
The cashier shook his head. "I don't know. I only started here last week, and yesterday was the first day I was out here."
"Well, thanks anyway, dude," Otogi said. Then, to Jou and Mokuba, "Look, guys, don't get your hopes up. He's pretty famous. Couldn't it just be that he's got some wacky fan who stole his hairstyle? I mean, I've had that happen to me before, and I'm nowhere near as well-known as he is; besides, the scores aren't that good. If it really was him, even Mokuba wouldn't have been able to beat them."
Jou sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right." Then he glanced at his watch. "Ah, sheik! It's nine-thirty! Mokuba, I'd better get you home - your brother will kill me if he knew I kept you out late on a school night." Mokuba's eyes widened in agreement, and the two tore out of the arcade and down the street.
"...Kaiba'd be happy to kill him just on a general basis, but that's a whole 'nother set of stories," Otogi couldn't help but comment. Honda punched him upside the head.
"Owwww..."

Planting his elbows on the desk and folding his hands in front of him, the white-haired man leaned forward and frowned slightly. The charts on the wall behind him identified him as an oceanographer specializing in the Gulf of Mexico; however, the lack of certificates and awards suggested that he was a freelancer rather than a government employee.
"Could you please explain to me again why precisely you want me to take you down to Alaminos, Mister Kaiba?" the grizzled man said.
The young CEO took a deep breath before beginning. He spoke English fluently, but the man's peculiarly Texan accent made him slightly difficult to understand; also, his own Japanese accent made it hard for the partially-deaf American to understand what he said. "I am researching for a new game I'm designing," he said as clearly as possible. "I am basing part of the game on this canyon; I'd like to see it first-hand, in order to make the game as realistic as possible."
The old man (Kaiba vaguely remembered his name as Smith) raised an eyebrow. "A game? Why precisely do you want to make a game about this canyon?"
"My company creates virtual reality games," Kaiba explained. "This will be our first solely educational game. We will base each section one one specific location roughly representative of each zone. Our computer randomly selected this canyon out of a list of possible locations."
Smith leaned back in his chair, seeming to accept this. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude," he said. "It's just that there have been some strange things going on in that area in the last few days, and I can't help but be a little suspicious."
It was Kaiba's turn to frown. "Strange things? What kind of strange things?"
"Oh, nothing most people would notice," Smith replied dismissively. "The fish have all deserted that area; it's like they've been spooked off. I've seen it happen before, when someone tried to plant a rig over the canyon."
Kaiba eyed the man uneasily for a moment before turning back to business. "When will you be able to take me out?"
"Ah...how does the day after tomorrow sound? If you stay here in Galveston, I can pick you up in the morning and drive you down to the company marina. We can be at the canyon by two in the afternoon."
Kaiba nodded in acknowledgement. "I would appreciate it greatly. What time should I expect you?"
"We'll have to get out of here pretty early if we want to have enough daylight at the canyon - how does three in the morning sound? I know it's obscene, but - "
"Three sounds excellent. I will expect you then. I'm in the single-room flat at Bishop's Bungalow - you know the location, I presume?"
Smith nodded. "I used to live near there. Three AM, day after tomorrow."
"Perfect. Have a good day, Mr. Smith."
"And you, Mister Kaiba." They shook hands, and the Japanese teen left.
Behind him, Smith shut the door and sat on the edge of his desk. "Man, they sure do turn 'em out young over there these days."

"What're your plans for the weekend, Jou?" Anzu asked, glancing up from her book just long enough to ask the question.
"Mmmmph vrrrng grrgh vrrhe fughorugho vhifhg mhhrghhrvuh."
The aspiring dancer sweatdropped. "Uh...chew, and then answer," she suggested.
Jounouchi swallowed his huge bite of hamburger and tried again. "I'm going to see Sugoroku with Mokuba," he repeated.
"You're not serious!" his friend blanched. "Jounouchi, you can't just go see him out of the blue and start talking about Yuu - I mean..."
The blonde glowered at her in a remarkably good impression of Kaiba. "I have to know, Anzu. I just have to. If it was him, I have to find out why he's been avoiding us, and if it wasn't then at least I can offer 'Jiisan some support."
"You do what you want, I suppose," Anzu sighed. "I just don't think this is a good idea..."
"Just go back to reading your book, Anzu," the blonde replied.
The day passed slowly. Psychology and Language Arts were painfully boring; with Yuugi missing and Kaiba absent, algebra was even worse than usual. At long last the final bell rang, and Jou was out the door like a shot. It was a half-hour walk to the Kaiba mansion. Mokuba surprised his "surrogate brother" (as he'd taken to calling Jou in the elder Kaiba's absence) by opening the door himself and nearly forcing a plate of cookies down the blonde's throat as they left. They lasted all of one block. The raven-haired Kaiba's hyperness seemed to wear off as they approached the Kame Game Shop; Jou's anxiety level was sky-high and still rising.
"Well, nothing for it but to go for it, I s'pose," he said with forced cheerfulness. "You want to do the honors?" Mokuba shook his head, suddenly shy, so Jou knocked on the door himself. It opened almost immediately.
"Welcome to Kame Game Sh - oh, Jounouchi! And Mokuba! What are you two doing here?" The elderly Mouto's tone was light, but the blonde could see the slump in his frame that hadn't been there before.
"We came to see how you were doing," Jou said quickly, stepping inside. "I...I take it Yuugi hasn't turned up?"
Sugoroku shook his head with a sigh. "No. You would have been the first to know, I promise."
"...ah..." Jou's face fell; he'd been hoping against hope that his friend really had managed to escape somehow, and to hear anything to the contrary was almost heartbreaking.
Mokuba felt the tension in the air, and it made him uncomfortable. So he dug into his arsenal of 'atmosphere-breakers' and pulled out his usual weapons: Hyperness and The Kiddy Eyes. "Hey, Jouno," he said, tugging on Jou's sleeve. "Jouno?"
"Yeah? What is it, pipsqueak?"
"Since we're here...can I get some new cards? Seto almost never lets me come!" The cuteness factor jumped one notch, then another.
"Well..."
And another.
"Oh, come on," Sugoroku laughed. "I'll put it on your brother's tab, all right?"
"Cool!" Mokuba chirped, grinning. Score for the Eyes!

Kaiba opened the door almost before the American knocked. "Good morning," he said in greeting.
Smith jumped. "Oh! Good morning," he replied quickly. "You ready?"
"One moment." Kaiba stepped back inside just long enough to close his laptop and slip it into his briefcase; it was all the luggage he had, and there was no way he was leaving his briefcase behind for even a moment. "Now I am."
"Great! I'm parked just down the street." The white-haired man gestured to an unobtrusive pickup idling on the corner. Kaiba eyed it warily for a moment, automatically thinking of all the ways an assassin could secrete a remote-operated bomb in the front seat alone, before shaking himself and realizing he was in one of the few places he was decently safe. Not only had KaibaCorp.'s technology not been introduced in America yet, he knew from past experience that Galveston was notoriously slow to adjust to new systems. Mostly because a lot of the newer technology was extremely vulnerable to the salty air, and thus almost everything had to be reengineered to be corrosion-resistant. And it was highly unlikely that any of his usual enemies would have followed him halfway around the globe to a desert island.
He opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat, crossing his long legs and resting his feet on his briefcase. "About how long is the drive?" he asked.
Smith thought for a moment. "About four and a half hours, unless traffic's really bad - if so, five. Plenty of time to sleep, if you want to."
Kaiba shook his head slightly. "Will it bother you if I work on my laptop?"
"Not at all."
Wordlessly, Kaiba keyed his security code into the hidden panel on the side of the briefcase, then entered a completely different code into the two more mundane locks on the top; the top clicked open, and he pulled his laptop back out and flipped it open. It was still on. He entered yet another different password and accessed the KaibaCorp. mainframe.
"What're you working on?" Smith asked, glancing at the screen. Kaiba hesitated for a moment, but decided the man was just curious; after all, the screen was in an odd mix of English, Japanese, and computer code, and even the least inquisitive of people would have to wonder a bit.
"It's a new prototype design for another game system," the CEO explained. "I've already built the first version and run it through my initial testing sequence; this is the third version so far. The final product should be released in three months, along with a new series of games - the one I'm researching for included."
Smith whistled. "How many people are working with you on this?"
"One, if you count my beta-tester."
Smith blanched. "You're doing all this yourself?"
"As soon as the product and first game are finished, I'll turn my code over to my Board of Directors. They'll complete the project while I start on the next one."
"And how long ago did you start this?"
"Last Monday," Kaiba smirked. He had to admit, it was amusing to see the American so impressed. Here in this "greatest of countries" it apparently took a year or two to release a new game, and three to five for a new system. For a long time, it hadn't been so different in Japan; then he'd taken over KaibaCorp. and everything had changed. His company was still the fastest and most efficient, but the smaller companies were slowly beginning to catch up.
The hours passed slowly. Smith was obviously tired, but he was hiding it well, and as the sun began to rise he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. Kaiba, of course, was wide awake; he had time to upload a fully revised set of plans to the central computer, e-mail his Board the new projected release date, and program almost half of a new game designed chiefly for Mokuba. Like several of the kid's other games, it would never be released to the public; they served threefold as gifts, an enjoyable way for Kaiba to sharpen his programming skills, and a chance to test out new innovations on a willing subject.
He'd just finished creating one of the key fight sequences when Smith interrupted his work, announcing that they were almost there. The CEO quickly shut down his computer and stowed it back in its usual home in his briefcase. He smirked; soon, he would defeat Noa totally and completely, finishing what he had started back in the virtual world.

White. Endless, eternal, infinite white; like the Shadow Realm, but pure and clean, not dark.
Well, mostly clean. Marik grinned manically, eyes flitting from bloodstain to bloodstain. He'd never seriously hurt himself, no; too hard to rule the world when he was hurt. But that didn't mean he didn't cut himself sometimes. Anything to end the white.
Too much.
Even his clothes were white, he realized with disgust. Thin, and airy, like what pretty-pretty hikari had worn in Egypt, but white.
He hated white.
White was Thief-King. White skin, white hair, white hikari, white lies (and black, but what was black? The inverse of white, that was all), white Thief-King.
How he longed for the pretty purple shadows.
They were such fun to play in, the shadows...not like mortal shadows. They weren't just shade cast by a solid object; they were living clouds, solid substances with voices of their own, magical beings that loved toying with minds just as much as Marik himself. Pharaoh-baka and Thief-King lived in their Items, yes yes, but Marik had never lived in the Rod. He was attached to it; he followed it relentlessly; he had never lived inside it. He was not a long-dead spirit. The Shadow Realm had been his shelter - his home - for as long as he could remember.
There was no white there. The Realm did not like white. It was too light of a color; too unnatural.
No white.
No Thief-King.
No Pharaoh-baka.
But...no pretty-pretty hikari, either. And that made it wrong, didn't it? He existed for his pretty-pretty. Sure, he wanted the God Cards; sure, he wanted the Items; sure, he wanted to destroy the world. But that was just so that his pretty-pretty would be happy. Because pretty-pretty loved destruction. And what better to destroy than everything?
All for his pretty-pretty.
All for the hikari.
All for the light...
All for the white.
He loved white.

"So...what did Sugoroku say?" Anzu asked. She was sitting in Jou's living room, half-heartedly watching the blonde and Otogi play some racing game she'd never heard of.
Jou shook his head distractedly. "No sign of him. He hasn't turned up at all. I guess you were right, Dicey-boy."
"See? You should listen to me once in a while. Especially when I say things like...eat my dust!" The light on the screen changed to green, and both trucks roared to life, tearing down the twisting road like there was no tomorrow.
Anzu rolled her eyes. "Guys are hopeless."
"Hey!" Honda protested from the other end of the couch. "I resent that remark!"
"I said guys, not monkeys."
Jou cackled. "Oooooh, score for Anzu," he said.
"That was low," Otogi added with a grin. Honda just glowered at a random speck of dust floating in the air.
"So, I still don't get what the attraction to this game is," the lone girl commented a few moments later after Otogi's truck flipped over, effectively ending the race. "I mean, it's nothing compared to the newer games, and yet you three treat it like some sort of religious artifact."
All three boys turned to gape at her. "Are you - " Honda started -
" - insulting - " Jou added -
" - Monster Truck Madness?!"
"...eep..." Anzu sweatdropped. "Er...no? I just...don't understand your obsession, that's all."
"Well then!" Jou said, standing and gesturing for her to take his spot on the floor. "Otogi, you and Honda do the honors of introducing our poor sheltered friend here to the greatest race in history, and I'll go find some chips - deal?"
"Deal!"
"But I don't - !" It was useless; already the two boys were forcing her into the well-worn spot on the carpet and handing her the controls. She sighed and just went with it.
When Jou came back in, she had a somewhat manic look on her face and was glaring intently at the screen, eyes flicking back and forth from the map in the upper left-hand corner to the actual road. There was another truck just in front of her, and the detour just ahead; her eyes glinted and she swerved off the road, heading for the broken bridge.
"No, Anzu, you don't go there! What are you doing?" Honda shouted.
"Wait," Otogi interrupted, holding his brunette friend back. "I want to see what she does."
Anzu spared a moment to toss them a grin before turning her full attention back to the screen. There was the end of the bridge, just coming onscreen; on the right, she could see the pre-programmed truck dutifully following the detour. They were still neck-and-neck at the moment. The gap was closer now, and closing at a frightening rate. A little more...just a little more...now! She kicked the joystick violently left, and was rewarded with a smooth jump from the corner of the bridge to the bottom of the dirt heap. A few pieces of heavy machinery later, she was powering up a glassy slope and back onto the road, her opponent left far behind.
"Bwaha! Beat that, ya bugger!" she exclaimed as she passed through the final checkpoint.
"Go, Anzu!" Honda cheered.
Otogi raised her arm in the victory pose. "And the winner is...Mazaki Anzu!"
The newly-hooked gamer grinned. "Okay, I take it back - I get what the attraction is now." Honda and Otogi high-fived.
"...but I still say you guys are hopeless!" She ducked quickly, and the two pillows sailed harmlessly over her head.
Jou chose that moment to step back into the room, and both pillows caught him squarely in the face. The throwers and the intended target all burst into laughter, but quieted down almost instantly when they saw the blonde's face.
"What is it, Jou?" Otogi asked, jumping to his feet.
"I just talked to Mokuba on the phone," Jou said quietly. "The institution just called him a few minutes ago... Marik's escaped."

Everything was so peaceful here under the surface, Kaiba mused. No chaos, no interruptions, no frantic phone calls from an incompetent Board of Directors; just calm, and quiet, and solitude. He could understand why Noa had chosen to build his base away from land. A person could get so much more done here.
And did, obviously. He'd been surprised when he first laid eyes on Smith's private sub. It was a small affair, only meant for three or four people maximum, and crammed to bursting with research equipment, but there was nothing without a purpose, nothing extraneous. All of the equipment was well-worn, but everything was top-of-the-line and kept in excellent condition.
Smith, too, had turned out to be something of a surprise. His insecurity, so glaringly obvious on solid ground, had disappeared the instant he touched the controls; here under the waves, he was assured, confident, in control. This is a man I could work with, Kaiba decided.
Right now he was piloting the tiny sub out of the marina with one hand and speaking into the radio held in the other. His face was stern.
"What do you mean, we have to cancel?" he raged. "I promised my client I'd take him out today, and I won't have the chance again for another four weeks - no, it can't wait until then! Why are you so emphatic, anyway?"
The radio crackled, but Kaiba couldn't make out what was being said. Still, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had to get out there today... He was busy for the next three months with producing and marketing the new line, he wouldn't have time to deal with this. It had to be done now, while his Board hadn't yet figured out that they could shift all their work onto his shoulders and recieve nary a complaint. While he still had time.
"So what if there's a storm?" Smith retorted. "I've been out there in a hurricane before - a little tropical storm isn't going to bother me. Besides, we'll be down far enough that it won't matter." More crackling. "Yeah, I'll ask - hold on a sec. Hey, Mister Kaiba," he said, turning to face the teen.
"Yes?"
"We've got a little bit of a problem. There's a tropical storm out in the Gulf, right where we're going. Now, I don't think it's an issue - I've been watching it for a while, and I don't think it's gonna grow anytime soon - but my buddy onshore says he just recieved a new report that predicts it's gonna get really nasty out there. Do you want to go out anyway, or head back in and wait for a few more weeks?"
Kaiba hesitated. He had to get this done...but then again, he didn't want to put anyone's life or equipment on the line, and if the storm was as bad as Smith's "buddy" made it out to be... "Give me a moment," he decided. He brought his laptop out of his briefcase (Smith had allowed him to bring it in) and flipped it open, accessing the KaibaCorp. satellites. He wanted a bird's-eye view of this storm.
"You probably won't get reception from in here," Smith warned him.
Kaiba smirked. "Oh, I will. This particular laptop is more powerful than any three of your government's computers combined, I'm sure of it. Here's the storm, by the way." He spun the laptop around and handed it to Smith, who whistled.
"I've never seen such a clear satellite image! Well, it's your call, Mister Kaiba."
"We'll do it," the CEO decided. Worst come to worst, we can break into the base itself - I've cracked through Noa's security once, I can do it again.
"You heard that, bud? My client said we're go."
More crackling. This time Kaiba could faintly make out the words "your funeral."
"Well, then," Smith said with a tight grin, clipping the radio back onto its reciever, "let's get moving!"

Jounouchi shifted uncomfortably. He hated hospitals; he hated institutions even more. Too much white. The dead silence was unnerving.
"Hey, Malik?" he whispered quietly.
He jumped when the disembodied voice spoke in his ear. "Yeah, Katsuya?"
"You feel your yami anywhere around here?"
There was a long moment of hesitation before Malik replied, "...yeah. I do. But it's not...I don't know, not him exactly. And it's faint, like he's not been here in a while."
"Well, you're real helpful," Jou hissed sarcastically.
There was a distinct cold sensation to his right. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly pleased about tracking down the spirit that killed my father and tried to kill me," Malik snapped back.
Jou snarled. "Take a good long moment and think about precisely who you're talking to, and then say that again, bud."
A sigh. "I'm sorry, Jou. I'm just...afraid."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that. It's okay, Malik - Namu. We'll find him, and then Ryou and Bakura will help you send him back to the Shadow Realm. I haveta shut up now, all the doctors are looking at me funny. You let me know when you sense anything new, all right?"
"Sure."
It was strange, the Brooklyn blonde reflected, how quickly they'd all managed to adapt. First to the fact that magic really did exist, and that several of their friends and neighbors were able to wield it; then to the fact that two of these same friends had alternate personalities that just happened to be their Ancient Egyptian incarnates; then to the idea that yet another magic-bearer was trying to kill them; now to the fact that several of the people that had once tried to destroy them needed their help to survive. Malik, who had used his Millennium Rod to force Jou to nearly wipe out his own best friend, was now almost hiding behind him in spirit form. Things had certainly changed.
"Katsuya," the Egyptian hissed suddenly. His voice was tinged almost imperceptibly with fear. "Katsuya, he's here...I can feel him... He's using the Rod on someone in this room."
"But I thought you had the Rod!" the other blonde snapped back.
"I gave it to my sister for safekeeping, since I couldn't use it - but that doesn't matter. If he wants it badly enough, he can activate it without being anywhere near it." There was a definite note of terror now. "Jouno... He knows I'm here... Jouno? Jou, what's wrong?"
Jounouchi smiled suddenly, a malicious grin working its way across his face. "Why, nothing's wrong now, pretty-pretty."

The sub rocked gently, buffetted by the subtle back-and-forth currents that meant the surface was a raging tempest. Smith was pointing through the port side of the front viewing window.
"That's the leading edge of the canyon," he explained. "I'm going to spin us around and approach it dead-on; we'll drop down into the canyon without the interference of the waves. I'm afraid you won't get any good overhead views today, but I can't trust the water up there. Too violent."
"That's fine," Kaiba replied. "I can get the overhead view from my satellites, anyway. It's the inside of the canyon I want to see."
Smith grinned. "In that case, then..."
The CEO found himself eerily reminded of Mokuba, or perhaps the elder Mouto. The old oceanographer faced every new challenge with a manic leer, and he hadn't once mentioned any regrets about coming out. Kaiba couldn't help but wonder if the man wasn't a thrillseeker.
But those thoughts were swept aside as they descended into the calmness of the canyon. The water was dark, as the sunlight from above was dimmed by the storm and filtered out through the salt sediment, but not that dark, and the lights on the sub's exterior played over a stunning variety of marine flora. For the first time in a long while, Kaiba was stunned into speechlessness.
"Welcome to Alaminos," Smith said with a smile.
"It's...much more than I would have expected at this depth," the Japanese teen managed after a moment. "More alive, that is."
Smith nodded. "That's what most people say when they first see it. And it is, really, or at least much more so than most of the other canyons in the Gulf. No one's really quite sure why. And remember, you're not seeing everything. Between the storm and most of the fish being spooked off anyway, you're missing the vast majority of the local fauna. Usually I can't see ten yards for the schools of fish that like to sit down here."
Kaiba's elation disappeared as he was suddenly reminded of his purpose here. "What's it like farther down?"
"Want me to tell you, or just show you?"
"Show me, please."
There was a moment of silence as the sub dropped lower into the canyon. Kaiba peered intently out of the viewing ports on either side, half watching for any telltale flash of metal and half taking a simple kind of delight in the array of living things just outside the steel structure.
"We're almost to the bottom now," Smith announced a moment later. "I won't drop her any farther down, unless you want a few samples - if I do, we'll start kicking up dirt, and then you won't be able to see a thing."
"This is fine," Kaiba assured him. Smith spun the sub in a slow circle, giving him a good long look at the canyon wall and at the surrounding area.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the oceanographer said softly. "This is the whole reason I chose this career, you know. You'll never see something like this up above. And you'll never have this kind of freedom."
"Ever tried flying?" the CEO replied absently. Then his eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. "Wait a moment...what's that?" he asked, pointing.
"What's what?"
"There, farther down the canyon. I thought I saw something flash."
Smith looked suddenly ecstatic. "Great! I'd bet anything you saw a school of fish. Let's go check it out, eh?" The sub twisted back to face forward, and then her owner's careful hands urged her onward into the darkness. The probing lights reflected off of something in the distance.
"That's strange," Smith frowned. "They're not moving. I've never seen a school just sit there before." There was a long silence as he gave the sub a little more speed, hoping to scare the fish into moving. Finally they were close enough to make out the reflecting object in considerably more detail. Smith inhaled sharply.
The CEO's fingers dug into his seat's thin covering. "I don't think that's a school of fish," he commented wryly.
Ahead of them loomed the giant dome of Noa's base.

Malik froze in place, paralyzed with terror. He was utterly vulnerable. The Rod was thousands of miles away, and the only person who knew where he was and was in any position to help him was being mind-controlled by the person who was trying to kill him - or, rather, steal his body. Not that it mattered; it amounted to the same thing. The Shadow Realm would destroy him just as easily as a knife to the throat, and more painfully to boot. Worse yet, he didn't even know precisely where the dark spirit was. Which meant he couldn't call for help without putting his new friends' lives in grave danger.
"Mou hitori no boku," he murmured softly. "Please...Mariku...please stop this..."
"Stop what, pretty-pretty?" Malik repressed a shudder; it was Jou's face, and Jou's voice, but those were his dark half's eyes staring quizically at him. He suddenly understood why Yuugi had been so determined to free his friends from the control of the Rod, even at the cost of his own life. It was a terrible thing to see.
"Stop hurting people," the lighter half pleaded. "I don't want you to hurt anyone anymore."
Another confused look; this time, tinged with hurt. "Pretty-pretty doesn't like the suffering?"
"No," Malik replied, tears springing to his eyes. "No, I don't. I just want you to come back to Egypt, with me. Can you do that?"
"Back? To Egypt?" Jou's face frowned. "But...darkness does not want to go back. Pretty-pretty likes it here, does he not? Doesn't pretty-pretty like it here?" The frowning lips twitched for an instant, and suddenly it was a furious Jounouchi staring out through the amber eyes.
"Malik, get your spirit butt out of here!" he snapped quickly. "He's - he's stronger than you were - I can't hold him off very long - go, go warn Ryou and Bakura! Go on, get out of here!" Sweat was running down his face in rivulets, and the Egyptian could see the occasional flash of pain that meant his dark was trying to regain control.
"But Jouno - "
"Just go, Namu!"
It was the unexpected use of his assumed name that spurred the Egyptian into action. "Just hold out for a while longer, Jou!" he shouted over his shoulder as he sped through the nearest wall.
Behind him, Jou gave tiny exclamation of pain and sank to his knees, holding his head in his hands. The doctors were all bombarding him with questions, asking him what was wrong; the other visitors in the room were staring blankly in shock. Had they really seen that pretty blonde boy running through the wall, shouting? Or was that just their imagination?

"Ryou!" Malik shouted wildly, barging through the albino reincarnation's apartment wall. "Ryou, Tomb Robber, anyone, help - what in Khemet?!"
Ryou struggled to speak, but the gag muffled his words beyond comprehension. His face was pale and streaked with tears. Beyond his bound form, Malik could see the dismembered remains of the Millennium Ring.
"Well well," an all-too-familiar voice sneered. "A little late to join the party, aren't you?"
The Egyptian snarled. "You're supposed to be dead. How did you get here?"
"Oh, I'm not your little friend," the short figure replied. "He's long gone. Though, I'm not sure we've ever met... Did your worthless companions ever happen to mention the Big Five to you, perhaps?"
"What the hell have you done with Mouto?!" Malik raged. Damn damn damn damn damn! This was not in the plan! For the moment, there was nothing he could do but stall until either he came up with a plan or someone else happened to stumble in, preferrably with a cell phone. Stupid stupid spirit form...couldn't carry anything physical. So, no cell phone, and no Rod. Not even a damned motorcycle.
The spiky-haired duelist sneered again. "Done with him? I've done nothing with him. Now, my lawyer friend here says he may have killed him, but no one's quite sure... Not that it should matter to you. After all, we've done you a favor by removing your enemy, right...Malik?"
Their words struck a more glancing blow than they could have known. After the duel between Jounouchi and Yuugi, the Egyptian teen had vowed that he would not kill any of the duelist's little fan club; no one with a bond of friendship that strong deserved to die. Nor would he banish them to the shadows. Break them, possibly; steal their Items, certainly; kill them, no. And yet, when the Tomb Robber's light had released him from the Shadow Realm and informed him that the Pharaoh was dead, his first response was to inquire after the puzzle and the God Cards.
And then in his much-weakened state, he had been forced to rely on the Pharaoh's followers for aid; with time he had become quite attached to them. He'd even apologized to the mutt, for Ra's sake.
"Keep your honeyed words to yourself, murderer," he snapped. Wait a moment... Even if it is Yuugi's body, the soul - or souls - inhabiting it are neither yami nor hikari! he realized. Which means they shouldn't be able to see me... He took a few careful steps to the side, being extremely careful not to make any noise, but the cold violet eyes followed his every move.
"I wouldn't suggest trying to run," not-Yuugi said smugly. "We were fortunate in our choice of bodies. Physically it may be weak, but it certainly has some interesting powers...such as the ability to see and inflict damage upon spirits such as yourself..."
Well, shimatta.

"What the hell is that?" Smith exclaimed.
Kaiba eyed the base somewhat apprehensively. "It's a mobile underwater computer system, with a single section able to support human life," he said.
Smith shot him a suspicious glance. "How do you know?"
"I've been in it before."
"Okaaay... Er, which part are you talking about, exactly?"
Kaiba pointed to the dome. "The main section, on top. The rest is just a protective shell containing one of the world's most powerful computers." He turned slightly to look Smith directly in the eye. "And you're going to get me in there."
The American blanched. "I'm what?! Oh, no no no. No way in hell am I gonna tangle with that thing. Matter of fact, we're turning around right now and reporting this to the police." He reached for the radio and pulled it off the hook, only to realize that the wire was disconnected.
Kaiba held it up and twiddled it between his fingers. "If you get me into that thing, and then back out, I'll replace the wire and quadruple your pay. If you refuse, I'll kill you and do it myself. It's your decision."
Smith glowered at him for a long moment.
"I don't make idle threats," Kaiba said flatly. "Or idle promises. You have ten seconds to decide."
"Fine. I'll do it," Smith said after a moment's hesitation. "But only on one condition."
The CEO raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
"I want to know exactly who you are and what you're up to."
Kaiba couldn't help but laugh.
"What's so funny?!"
"I'm the CEO of Japan's biggest, most powerful company," Kaiba said. "I think I've mentioned before that I create virtual reality games. That base there contains the greatest, most advanced, and by far the most dangerous virtual reality world in existance; I can name two people who have died there that I knew well, and several more that were my employees. To make a long story short, I'm here to destroy the thing."
The oceanographer was staring at him open-mouthed. "...oooookaaaaaaay...forget I asked. You said you wanted in? If this thing's so advanced, then won't it have a security system?"
"Highly unlikely," Kaiba replied, shaking his head. "I wiped out most of the defences when I blasted out with my blimp."
"Blimp?" Smith shook his head. "Never mind, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"No," Kaiba replied icily, "you don't." He retrieved his laptop one more time and flipped it open. "And no, there isn't any security. You should be able to use your sample-retrieval claw to pry the doors open; they should open easily, and if there is any damage KaibaCorp. will reimburse you."
"I guess you're the boss," Smith sighed. He moved the sub forward and positioned it so that he could grip the very edge of the dome cover with the claw. True to Kaiba's prediction, the doors slid open easily, and the sub slipped inside.
Now comes the hard part, Kaiba told himself. He would have to open the submarine's hatch, swim outside without flooding it, find a way to destroy the base without killing himself in the process (all the while treading water, since the chamber would no doubt be flooded), and make it back into Smith's sub and away before all hell broke loose.
"I really hope you have a plan, Mister Kaiba," Smith said as the sub settled on the steel floor. "Because I sure don't."
"I'm working on it," the CEO responded tersely. Then, "What the?!"
The water was draining from the chamber, leaving the sub resting in only an inch-or-so-deep puddle. He winced and shielded his eyes as all of the lights in the chamber suddenly flickered on simultaneously.
Smith was looking decidedly more nervous now. "I don't suppose this is a good thing?" he asked.
"Hardly. Move over," Kaiba replied. Long slim fingers deftly manipulated the black wire back into its rightful place in the radio set, and he twisted the dial to a familiar frequency. The voice that crackled through the reciever was speaking Japanese.
"...please step outside of your vehicle, and I promise you will not be harmed. I repeat, if the intruder will please step outside of the vehicle, you will not be harmed. Can you hear me? Please step outside of your vehicle..."
Kaiba blinked a few times in surprise.
"What is he saying?" Smith demanded.
"He...wants us to get out of the sub," Kaiba replied once he had regained control of his vocal chords. "I...I think I should go first..." Smith nodded, and unlocked the hatch. By this point he was willing to do anything the younger man said; after all, at least the kid had a clue as to what was going on.
Kaiba hesitated as the too-familiar stun lasers swivelled around to aim point-blank at his torso. Then he growled.
"Don't you dare shoot me, Mouto."

White-coated doctors were trying valiantly to hold the blonde's limbs down as he thrashed and writhed; trying, but not succeeding. He'd already broken the nose of one and knocked a few teeth out of another.
"We need a tranquilizer!" a tall woman shouted over the general melee.
There was a moment of frantic movement before someone shouted back, "What kind?"
"Any kind, as long as it's strong!" a different doctor replied. "And hurry, damn it!"
"Everyone shut up so we can hear what he's saying," the first doctor snapped. "Are you idiots listening? Shut up!" The room was suddenly much quieter, and the blonde's shouts were much more pronounced.
"Nooo! Get out of my head, you Egyptian bastard - I don't care if you want to follow your pretty-pretty! No! Get out of my head! ... Stupid stupid mortal, thinking you can defeat me that easily! ... I said, get...out...of...my...head!!"
The doctor with the broken nose raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah. He's a strange one, all right. Delerium and almost definitely MPD, at the very least."
"We'll diagnose him later," the woman doctor said. "Go open a room. We're going to hold him here until he calms down."
The bloodied man shook his head. "No can do. We're out of rooms."
From where he was preparing the tranquilizer, the Asian doctor asked, "What about Ishtar's room? I don't think we're going to find him anytime in the next few hours - it's not a permanent solution, but it'll do for now."
The woman doctor gave a relieved sigh. "Akira, you're a lifesaver," she said. "We'll put him in there for now - look out!" The blonde, who had been relatively quiet for a few moments, had started jerking again, and his fist narrowly missed her colleague's jaw.
"Tranquilizer coming through!" One of the smaller doctors ducked out of the circle, leaving room for Akira to slip in and plunge the needle into the blonde boy's arm. Within seconds his screaming stopped, and then he fell deathly still.
For a moment there was no sound but that of the doctors' panting.
"All right," the woman said wearily. "Let's get him into Ishtar's room."
Unbeknownst to the many doctors, the mental battle still roared on. ||Damn you, Marik, get out of my mind!||
||Want - to - find - the - pretty-pretty!||
||He has a name, you know!||
There was a moment of silence. Jounouchi could almost hear the dark spirit blink in surprise. ||Name?||
||You're an idiot, Malik, you really are. Did you know that? Now, get OUT!|| With a sudden burst of energy, the Brooklyn blonde managed to force the Egyptian spirit completely out of his head and back into his own brain. Then, exhausted, he fell into a deep not-entirely-drug-induced sleep.
Standing unnoticed in the back of the visitor's area, a deeply tanned man in a doctor's lab coat with spiky blonde hair murmured, "What name?"

There was a long silence as Kaiba clambered out of the sub and landed gracefully on the steel floor. Slowly, the stun lasers lowered back to their normal resting positions.
"Ah, Mister Kaiba?" Smith said, poking his head out of the hatch. "They're talking on the radio again. I still can't understand it."
Kaiba glared up at the ceiling, where he knew there had to be at least a few video cameras. "Speak English, Mouto," he snapped. "Or better yet, use the speakers Noa used instead of the radio. I can't hear you out here."
He heard the radio crackling; Smith said, "He says he can't figure out how to do it. He says you're the first person who's found this place; he's never bothered with the real-world technology before. Do you understand any of that?"
Kaiba chose to ignore the American's question, instead saying, "Then bother with it now, Mouto. You've got a lot of explaining to do."
Smith ducked back down into the sub for a moment, but then, satisfied that the radio was silent for good, climbed back out to stand next to the much taller teen.
"So...care to tell me what's going on here?" he asked lightly.
Kaiba glared again at the unseen video cameras. "Not particularly, considering I don't exactly understand it myself. But it appears that one of those people I said died here, didn't."
"...forget I asked."
"I'm running out of patience, Mouto," Kaiba snapped.
"...en! Gomen, gomen nasai, Kaiba-san..." The voice was excited, nearly crying, but still speaking Japanese. Smith raised an eyebrow.
"English," Kaiba growled.
"Oh...sorry," Yuugi's voice came again, this time in halting English. "My English is...not so good. I haven't - er - speaked it in a long time."
"Then here's your chance to practice. I want to know exactly what happened, from the time we left you and Jounouchi by the truck."
There was a moment of hesitation. "I have...better idea. I can run the virtual reality program and speak to you face-to-face. It...cross-speaks...approaches each person in their native language."
Kaiba frowned. "I thought you said we were the first. How can you know that, if there's no one but you to test it on?"
"Mou hitori no boku doesn't speak Nihon-go or English."
"Are you sure you can handle the program? Because I swear if you get me trapped in it, I'll blow this base to smithereens with you still inside."
"The program is...less difficult than this," Yuugi reassured him. "One moment."
Smith was looking jittery. "Could you please, please, please explain what's going on?" he asked.
"My friend - that voice is my friend - is going to transport us into the virtual world I told you about so that we can speak face-to-face and all understand each other. Apparently the program can address each player in his native language."
"But I thought you said the world is dangerous!"
"It was. But if what I think happened happened, then we have nothing to fear. Now be quiet."
Both men watched with more than a little apprehension as the portal opened in the floor in front of them; Smith, because he still had no idea what was going on, and Kaiba because he had very bad memories of this particular kind of portal.
"It is not dangerous," a new, slightly deeper voice said. "You have my - our - word on it."
"You'd damn well better be right, Pharaoh," Kaiba said, stepping forward, "or I'm going to make your afterlife hell." He jumped into the gaping hole.
"Kaiba!" Yuugi exclaimed, giving the CEO a tight hug as he climbed back to his feet. Then he backed away, face burning in embarrassment, and mumbled, "Sorry...it's just...I've been really lonely here."
Kaiba's stern expression softened. "It's all right, Mouto - Yuugi. I don't blame you."
"Yaaaah!" Smith stumbled as he landed, and picked himself up off the ground with a conspicuous lack of grace. He eyed Yuugi's small form a little uneasily. "Who're you?"
"I'm Mouto Yuugi," the spiky-haired duelist said in introduction, bowing. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier..."
But Smith's eyes were smiling. "Ah, don't worry about it, little guy. I figure, as long as Mister Kaiba here isn't worried, I shouldn't be. I'm Smith, by the way." He extended a hand, and Yuugi shook it tentatively.
"I'm still waiting for that explanation," Kaiba said, but less coldly this time.
Yuugi took a deep breath before launching into the story of how Jou had carried him away from the truck, and how they had gotten turned around and ended up walking in circles until the helicopter had shown up. "And from there, you pretty much know what happened," he said. "You landed, Jou got in, I got attacked, and you took off; after that, there's not much to say. I managed to summon a few monsters and hold the Big Five off for a while, but my luck ran out; they knocked me unconscious, locked me into the game, stole my body and escaped into the real world, I suppose." He shrugged. "And that's it."
"And you've been here, alone, ever since?"
"Other than Yami, yes," Yuugi replied quietly. His eyes were shimmering.
Kaiba bit his lip in uncertainty, a rare thing for him. Then he knelt and pulled the shorter duelist into an embrace. "It's going to be okay, Yuugi, I promise. Everything's going to be okay."
Yuugi sniffed into his shoulder and tightened his grip on the CEO's waist. "That's what Yami keeps telling me...but I just don't see it, Seto," he murmured. Tears were streaming uncontrollably down his face, but his voice was calm, controlled, even. "I just can't see how you or anyone else can do anything. The Big Five have probably already disappeared to some third-world country; they'll never show their faces again, I'm sure of it. And even if they do, what can we do about it? Noa was the only one who knew how to transfer minds to and from bodies, and he's long dead..."
"I'll figure it out," Kaiba promised. "If Gozaburo could do it, I can do it. Just don't worry anymore, all right?"
"Yeah...thanks, Kaiba," Yuugi said, smiling weakly. He stepped away from the CEO and hugged his shoulders.
Smith cocked his head. "Hey, Mister Kaiba, Yuugi...do you hear something?"
Yuugi frowned and nodded slightly. "Yeah...Yami, what is it?"
A fourth figure shimmered into existance behind Yuugi, one hand on the smaller form's shoulder. "Yes. It's your cell phone, Kaiba. I can't redirect it here; you'll have to return to the real world to answer it."
"I'll go open the portal, and see if I can't clean up the signal for you," Yuugi offered. "Reception down here is horrible, but I may be able to do something..." He faded suddenly, leaving Kaiba and the Pharaoh with a very confused Smith.
"It's...good to see you again, Kaiba," Yami said after a short moment.
"And you, Pharaoh," the CEO replied. "You seem to be holding up much better than your lighter half."
The former ruler gave a wry smile. "You forget, I was imprisoned in the puzzle for three thousand years, completely alone. Four weeks in a computer system with my hikari at my side and an entire game system to explore and defeat..." He shrugged. "I'm afraid it's been something of a vacation for me."
He looks rather pale and thin for it to have been a vacation, Kaiba couldn't help but think. Noa was unaffected by the time, and so was Yuugi; it's stress, not a lack of nourishment, that's wearing on him. The Pharaoh isn't quite as jaded as he'd like to believe.
Smith jumped slightly when a solid oak door suddenly appeared in front of them. Mentally slapping down the not-so-unreasonable fear that jumped up in his throat at the sight (after all, he'd nearly lost his brother to one of these doors), the CEO grasped the handle and flung it open, stepping through calmly. The transition was unbelievably smooth; the only thing that told him he was back in his own body was the sudden sound of his phone ringing. He vaulted back into the sub, unlocked his briefcase again, and picked up the phone on its sixth ring.
"Kaiba speaking," he said tersely.
"Nii-sama!"
Kaiba stiffened. "Mokuba? Mokuba, what's wrong? What's going on?" His brother's voice was panicky, high and shrill and quick, and he sounded like he was trying not to cry.
"Everything, Seto, everything's wrong," the boy sobbed. "Marik escaped from the institution, and the Big Five have Yuugi's body and are holding Ryou hostage, and I think they killed Bakura and maybe Malik too, and Anzu and Honda and Otogi are all being mind-controlled again, and you're not here and I can't find Jouno anywhere and Seto I'm just so scared!" Scared was an understatement; he was obviously terrified.
"Okay, Mokuba, take a deep breath," Kaiba said. "Just calm down. I can't do anything unless I know exactly what's going on, so you're going to have to tell me. Okay? Deep breath, and just don't worry...just don't worry, okay? Mokuba? Mokuba, you there?"
"I'm here," he whispered weakly. "Okay, Seto, I'm calm now...what do you want to know?"
"First, I want to know exactly where you are."
"I'm - I'm in your office," came the answer. "I'm sitting behind your desk, using your phone."
"Okay. Good. That's good, Mokuba, that's very good. Where are the Big Five?"
There was a moment of hesitation. "They're in Yuugi's body somewhere," he said. "I think they're still at Ryou's apartment, but I'm not sure..."
"All right. What about Marik?"
"No one knows...no one knows, Seto, that's what scares me..."
The elder Kaiba took a deep steadying breath and advised Mokuba to do the same. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Carefully, he talked his brother through giving him the rest of the details; yes, this was very, very, very bad. The only people that could possibly help at the moment were Jounouchi and possibly Sugoroku, and the former was missing in action.
"Okay, Mokuba, here's what I want you to do," Kaiba explained. "Pick up the phone on the other side of my desk and call the Kame Game Shop."
"I...I don't remember the number," Mokuba said shakily. He sounded like he was going to panic again. "God, Seto, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..."
"Shhh, that's okay...it's okay, Mokuba. I can find out for you. Just give me a minute." He held the cell phone against his ear with one hand and clambered back out of the sub, one more time. "Mouto," he said into the stillness. "Mouto, I need your help. I need to know your phone number."
"What? Why?" Yuugi asked, obviously confused.
"Just tell me what it is," he snapped. There was half an instant of silence, and then the unseen duelist rattled off a string of numbers.
"S-Seto?"
"Yeah, Mokuba?"
"Is that...is that really Yuugi you're talking to?"
"Yes, Mokuba, it is."
"Where are you, Seto?"
"I'm inside Noa's underwater building right now," he said.
Mokuba let out a little screech. "Are you all right?! How did you get there? What are you doing? Are you okay?"
"Calm down! Calm down, everything's fine, I promise - I'm a lot safer than you are right now. I just want you to calm down, okay?"
He could hear his younger brother breathing on the other end of the line. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm calm. What's the number?"
Seto gave him the number, and told him to ask for Sugoroku.
"Okay...it's - it's ringing, the phone's ringing," Mokuba said. "What should I say?"
"You're going to tell him that you need him to come pick you up from my office because I had to take the car on a sudden trip, and that you need a place to stay tonight, okay? He'll say yes."
"...okay..."
"And when you get in his car, you're going to explain everything to him the way you just explained it to me, and he'll take you somewhere safe."
"Okay..."
Kaiba gave a small sigh of relief. Finally, both of them were calming down a bit. "Hey, Mokuba?"
"Yeah?"
"You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah...I love you too, Seto. Oh! Sugoroku-san? I - I need a ride from my brother's office, can you pick me up...? He had to - had to leave, and he took the car... Yes, thank you! Thank you!" There was a moment of silence, and then Mokuba said, "Nii-sama?"
"What is it, Mokuba?"
"Should I hang up?"
"No, Mokuba. I want you to stay on the phone until Sugoroku gets there. And then I want you to take the spare cell phone from my desk drawer and keep it with you. Okay?"
"Spare cell phone...got it," the raven-haired youth reported. Kaiba heard the sound of a drawer closing.
"Good. Now turn it on."
"On...right. Seto...I'm still scared..."
"Just keep talking to me, Mokuba. Pretend I'm sitting right next to you. Just keep talking to me."
"Okay...just keep talking...okay... Jouno took me to the Game Shop a few days ago and let me buy some new cards. I know you don't like me to go there - you're not mad at me, are you? God, Seto, I'm so sorry, don't be mad - "
"I'm not mad at you, Mokuba," the brunette reassured him. Heavens, no, I'm not mad - I just wish I was with you, instead of halfway across the world trapped in a giant submarine with no hope of reaching you in time to do anything... "What cards did you get?"
"Nothing - nothing good," was the reply. "A few magic cards, and a new trap card called - Seto!" His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper.
All of Seto's nerves suddenly went on the alert, triggered by the terror in his brother's voice. "What? What's going on, Mokuba?"
"There - there's someone at the door... I think it's Sugoroku..."
A silent sigh of relief. "Then go with him," Kaiba said.
"But, Seto... I can't... I think there's someone at the window, I can hear them moving around, Seto I'm scared...!"
"It's okay, it's okay, shhhh," the elder brother said in as soothing a voice as he could muster. His skin was crawling; his gut was twisting in on itself; he wracked his mind for solutions. "From where you're sitting, can anyone at the window see you?"
"N-no," was the unsteady answer. "Unless they saw me getting the other phone, I don't think they know I'm here..."
"Okay. That's good. That's good. Now...er..."
"Seto?"
"Yes?"
"You don't know what to do, do you?"
Kaiba sighed. "No, Mokuba, I don't."
"You're scared..."
"Yes, I am. I'm terrified. But I don't want you to hang up, Mokuba, do you understand? No matter what happens, I don't want you to hang up."
"...okay..."
"All right. Which end of my desk are you at? The one with the coffee cup, or the one with the lamp?"
"Coffee cup."
"Even better. Unless my secretary moved it, there should be a big potted plant not too far away. Is it there?"
"...yeah. Yeah, it is."
"I want you to crawl behind it."
"But Seto, the phone - !"
"I want you to hang up, crawl behind the plant, and call me on the cell phone. I'm going to walk you out of my office and into the hallway, away from windows. Okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll...call you right back."
"Okay. You do that."
"I love you, nii-sama..."
"I love you too, Mokuba." The tall brunette couldn't help but wince when he heard the line go dead. He leaned back against Smith's sub and allowed himself to sink weakly to the floor, not caring who saw him.

Smith frowned. "That's Mister Kaiba's cell phone again," he said. "He's been talking for an awfully long time...what do you think is going on?"
Yami frowned too. "I...do not know. I will ask." His eyes took on a far-away look.
||Aibou?||
||Aah! Oh, it's you, Yami...what's up?||
||Who is Kaiba talking to? What's going on?||
There was a mental sigh. ||I'm not really sure,|| the light admitted. ||I know he's talking to Mokuba, and he looks really worried, but...he hasn't told me why yet. His phone just rang again.||
||Yes, Sumisu-san heard it.||
||Hey, Yami?||
||Yes?||
||Can you...keep Smith in the virtual world a while longer...? Kaiba doesn't look so good, I don't think he would want anyone to see him right now.||
||What do you mean?"
||He's crying, Yami.||
The former Pharaoh blinked. Even as a High Priest, he'd never known Kaiba to cry. That was...disturbing.
||Ah. I will try.||
"So?" Smith asked when he saw the other teenager shake himself. "What's the story?"
"I still don't know," Yami replied, shaking his head. "Kaiba is talking on the phone again. I think it would be better all around if you and I were to remain here in the virtual world until he finishes."
The oceanographer hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Since I don't really see that I have much of a choice, I might as well. What do you people do around here for fun?"
Floating randomly through cyberspace, Yuugi performed what was now his mental-electronic equivalent of a frown. He could see through the video cameras that Kaiba was still slumped against the side of the tiny submarine, murmuring into his cell phone. He'd turned the microphones off a while ago, thinking to give Kaiba some privacy, but now he was deeply considering turning them back on. Nothing that could break through Kaiba's tough shell that easily could bode any good. No, he decided. No, he would leave them off for another three minutes. Then, if Kaiba was still on the phone, he would turn them on.
Which left him three minutes of lonely obsessive worrying. Joy. Not, of course, that he'd done much else for the last four weeks. If he'd still had a body, he would have been crying; then again, if he'd still had a body he wouldn't be in this situation...
His only comfort was that Yami had been imprisoned with him, and even that wasn't so comforting. He felt terrible for dragging the poor spirit into this. It had been his decision to stay rather than run for the helicopter, not Yami's; the spirit didn't deserve to be trapped like this. He'd already borne more than his fair share of misery. It just wasn't fair.
With machine-like precision, he keyed the microphones just as the fourth minute began. Kaiba hadn't moved.
"...still someone at the door? Okay. Okay. Then you're going to have to use the other door, the bathroom door. You know where that is, right? Good, good. Okay. Go back to where you started...right, by the coffee cup." A moment of silence. "You're there? Great. That's good. Now, go to the other end of the desk. You should be right across from the restroom door now." Another pause; Mokuba was obviously speaking.
"Okay...okay, that's okay. He shouldn't be able to see you through the curtains on that side of the window. Just crawl over into the bathroom, and you'll be okay. Yes, I promise."
Another pause, more lengthy this time.
Kaiba's face paled slightly. "He saw you? Okay, that's okay. Just keep going. He can't get to you - Mokuba?!"
Yuugi could hear the frantic screaming through the phone. "He saw me! It's Marik, Seto, it's Marik, he's coming in through the window! Let me go, let me go, let me go...Seeeetooooooooooooooooo!!"
Kaiba was on his feet, white-faced and shaking. "Mokuba! Mokuba, don't give up - Mokuba!!" Then suddenly he closed his eyes as if in pain, and he fell to his knees, closing the cell phone with a quiet snap. "Oh, God, Mokuba...I'm sorry..."

The air was deathly still, rank with the peculiar smell of magic. Nothing in the apartment moved. Weak sunlight filtered through the window and played off what was left of the Millennium Ring; on the far side of the room, a half-conscious Malik groaned.
Stupid...rotten...egotistical...beaurocratic...bastards... The curses shifted smoothly into fluent Arabic and continued in that strain for some time; when those were exhausted the weakened Egyptian turned to Japanese. Ten minutes later he was completely out of insults...what was he to do but start making up his own?
"Still not dead?" not-Yuugi said. To his credit, his voice contained only a mild hint of surprise. "My, my, a stubborn one...what fun."
"Keep your paws to yourself," Malik hissed. He struggled to his knees, glaring at the Big Five all the while. The frozen violet eyes met his unblinkingly.
Not-Yuugi smirked. "Oh, but I am. I haven't touched you yet, have I? It's not my fault the Shadow Realm likes to play with mere mortals such as yourself before it kills them."
"Yeah, well," the blonde panted, "it's never tangled with me before. Let's see how it likes this!" He threw out a hand towards the abomination, holding his akward position expectantly; nothing happened. "Eh heh heh..." No Rod, no magic, you idiot!
Another smirk. "You might want to save your strength," he said. "I think there's someone coming who would very much like to speak with you..."
Malik froze. That leer combined with the splinters of ice creeping up his spine could only mean one thing.
"How would you know?" he spat. Come on, come on - think!
The Big Five crossed their arms and leaned back triumphantly. The Kaiba-like pose looked odd on Yuugi's tiny frame, but at the same time it was unnerving how right it seemed. "Oh, I know, all right. This body has many talents."
There was a moment of silence.
"...you have no idea how wrong that sounded."
The cold smirk dropped for an instant, replaced by first bewilderment and then outrage. "That was not what I meant!"
Oh, yeah - go, gutter comments! Now, just to keep him distracted a while longer... "Wasn't it? Then what did you mean? Because that's certainly what it sounded like."
Not-Yuugi spat. "I don't have to explain myself to a mortal like you."
"One, that's the oldest line in the book. Two, you're beginning to sound freakishly like my yami."
The violet eyes danced with icy mirth. "That happens when he's the only person I speak with for a month. He has a very interesting personality - is it true he's your anger embodied?"
"And what if he is?" Malik snarled. This was bad. Marik scheming alongside the Big Five... One thing was sure: Nothing good could come of this.
Not-Yuugi gave a mock-impressed whistle. "My congratulations on creating such a fine creature."
"You haven't seen anything yet." Oh, this must be an interesting picture - me on my knees baring my teeth at a kid half my height. Not including the hair. I'm just glad Bakura isn't catching this on camera...I'd never live it down.
"But that's beside the point. If I'm not very much mistaken, that's your darker half coming up the stairs now - it sounds as though he's bringing another guest with him... What a fun party this is turning out to be. Isn't it, Ryou?"
Bound and gagged on the far side of the room, the white-haired British boy could do nothing but glare, so he did. He could be scarier than his dark when he felt like it.
"...me go! Let me go, you big bully!" There was a sickening thud, and then the sound of a body being tossed against the wall. The door to Ryou's apartment swung open.
Not-Yuugi chose that moment to make his move. Distracted by the sudden appearance of his more-than-half-crazed yami, Malik couldn't defend himself against the shadows' attack; he choked as half-seen fingers entwined themselves around his throat and tore at his face.
"If only I had a bowl of popcorn," not-Yuugi said mournfully.
Still standing in the doorway, Marik bristled. "Release him."
The Big Five gave the spirit an innocent look. "What? I'm not doing anything!"
"Release the pretty-pretty!!" Any shred of sanity the blonde may have still had was long gone; his hair stood on end as raw power coursed through his fingertips. The Big Five "eep"ed.
Malik's vision was going black; he didn't see his dark pull the Millennium Rod from his belt loop, or the brilliant flash of light as he banished the businessmen to the Shadow Realm; all he heard was the crash of glass as Yuugi's body flew through the window.

Gone. He was gone. Dead, most likely; at the very least, locked in the Shadow Realm for all eternity. It didn't matter. Mokuba was gone.
Silent tears cascaded from blue eyes, and brown bangs fell around his face, a swinging barrier between him and the rest of the world. Would that he could just stay like this, unmoving, and never have to face reality again; would that he could just live in his memories.
Gone.
Faintly, he could feel himself falling; he didn't care. He didn't notice the water disappearing from around his knees, he didn't notice the way he landed heavily on his side in ankle-deep grass. All he knew was that Mokuba was gone. Nothing else mattered. KaibaCorp. could go to hell; Yuugi could have his title as Duel Monsters champion; that dice-eared upstart could take over his production department and turn it to making dice. He didn't care. Everything was over.
"Kaiba? Kaiba, what's wrong?"
The voice was soft, quiet; like Mokuba's. Kaiba's breath caught in his throat. He clutched his cell phone to his chest, curling around it like a lifeline; the last thing he had, his only surviving link to his brother.
"Kaiba, please, tell me what's wrong...please, Kaiba, you have to tell me! I can't help you if you don't tell me..." He felt Yuugi putting his small hands on the taller teen's shoulders and squeezing them gently, as if to reassure him.
I can't do anything unless I know exactly what's going on, so you're going to have to tell me. Okay?
"He's - he's gone," Kaiba whispered brokenly. "Mokuba's gone..."
There was a sharp intake of air; the CEO didn't know if it was Yuugi or the Pharaoh pulling him to his feet, but it didn't matter. They could go to hell, as long as it brought his brother back.
"Kaiba." Most definitely Yami; no way was Yuugi that demanding. "Kaiba, listen to me."
The brunette turned and stumbled a few steps away. No good; the Pharaoh was in control of the virtual world. He ended up right where he had started.
"Kaiba, you have to listen to me."
No matter what happens, I don't want you to hang up.
"...leave me alone, Pharaoh."
A moment of silence. Kaiba almost breathed a sigh of relief; maybe they'd all taken the hint and left.
Crack.
"What in the seven hells was that for?!" Kaiba shouted, holding a hand to his reddening cheek.
Yami glowered at him. "I'll slap you again, if you don't come to your senses," he said. "Now that I've got your attention, tell me what's going on!"
It was rapidly turning into a glaring contest; so far, Yami was winning. That may or may not have been because Kaiba kept having to blink away tears. There was no way he was going to cry in front of his rival...but Mokuba was gone. So what did it matter, what Yami thought?
It didn't.
"Nothing that concerns you," the CEO finally snapped. "Now get out of my way." He shoved his way past the former ruler and stalked off, wanting nothing more than to crawl into some deserted corner of the game and die. He'd failed to protect his brother; he deserved nothing more.
It's all I deserve.
So this is how the chihuahua felt, Kaiba thought dimly. At least he had a helicopter window to bang his head against.
"Kaiba...Kaiba, please."
He hesitated for an instant, foot hanging in midair.
"Please. Tell me what's wrong. I can't change it, but...please, Seto, just tell me what's wrong," Yuugi begged.
...and you'll be okay. Yes, I promise.
Kaiba sighed, and turned around. "Malik escaped from the institution and is braincontrolling Otogi, and Anzu, and Honda. The Big Five are in your body holding Ryou hostage. They've killed Bakura, and maybe Marik. Mokuba...I think Mokuba may be dead." His voice broke, and he turned away slightly.
"Oh, God, Seto..." Yuugi stood stock-still for a moment, then walked forward and placed his arms tentatively around Kaiba's waist. "God, Seto, I'm so sorry..."
The brunette fell back to his knees, leaning into his one-time-rival's shoulder and shaking. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to.
They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then finally Kaiba stood, eyes lost and empty, expressionless.
"I...I have to go back."
Yuugi gave him a startled look. "Go back where? To Domino?"
"Yes."
"But - but why? Why do you have to go?"
Kaiba whirled on him. "I have to find my br - Mokuba's body. And save your worthless friends. It's what he would want."
"Well, in that case, then," Yuugi said with a weak smile, "I'm going with you."
It was Kaiba's turn to be startled. "How, exactly?"
"We have two choices. Either you can download my and Yami's minds into your laptop and catch the first jet back to Domino...or we can all go in this thing. Noa designed it to move extremely quickly, in case anyone ever stumbled across it on accident - we can be there in four hours or less."
Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "You seem uncertain."
"Well..." Yuugi sighed. "We can get there in four hours, but it will wreak havoc with the machinery." He shrugged. "If we go now, this base may fall apart. If we wait, everything will be over by the time we get there. It's...it's your call, Kaiba."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Smith was the first to speak.
"You do realize what you're saying, kid? If he says go, and this thing breaks down..."
Yuugi turned and met the oceanographer's eyes. "Yes. I know exactly what I'm suggesting. That's why it's Kaiba's call. I'm already downloading Yami into Kaiba's laptop; if anything happens, the three of you will already be in your sub ready to escape."
"And the Pharaoh agreed to this plan?"
"Not really," Yuugi said with a tight smile. "He's smart, but he can't move as quickly in this computer world as I can. He's still screaming at me."
Kaiba frowned. "I can't ask you to do this, Yuugi."
The shorter duelist shook his head. "You don't have to. I'm offering. If there's anything I can do - anything at all - to help my friends, I'll do it...you should know that by now."
Leave my friends alone!
It's my decision, Jouno.
I will protect everyone from harm...
Just go, Jounouchi! Go with Shizuka!
"Yeah, I guess I should," Kaiba said with a wry grin. "But...are you absolutely sure about this, Yuugi? I - I don't want to put anyone else in danger on my account."
"Feh," Smith snorted; the former rivals ignored him.
Yuugi gave a sad smile. "No. I'm not. I don't want to die any more than you do, Kaiba - Seto. But that doesn't mean that I won't. Just give the word, Seto, and I'll do it."
Kaiba hesitated. He couldn't ask Yuugi to do this, he just couldn't. But then...he couldn't leave the chihuahua and the rest of Yuugi's friends to fend for themselves, either. Those incompetents would all allow themselves to be destroyed before they lifted a finger in self-defense, especially if the Big Five pulled their usual tricks and pulled innocent bystanders into the fray. Which left him with no choice.
"Then get me out of this game, Mouto, because we're going to Japan."

Marik's chest rose and fell with each breath he took; the wildness in his eyes slowly died down, and his hair began to droop as much as it ever did.
"Pretty-pretty..."
Malik moaned slightly, but otherwise didn't move. His breathing was quick and shallow.
"My pretty-pretty... Why does the light hate me...? The light should not hate, it makes him like the dark - and the light should not be like the dark, no no..." The conscious Egyptian ran his fingers through the other's hair and twisted the blonde strands around his finger. "No, not like the dark."
Leaning wearily against the doorframe, Mokuba watched the scene through bleary eyes. He was sure Marik hadn't meant to throw him against the wall so forcefully, but that didn't change the fact that it hurt. Not, of course, that the raven-haired boy blamed him; he would have panicked too, if it had been his other half being tortured by the Big Five. Marik had been growing more and more anxious from three blocks away, and by the time they reached Ryou's apartment had been bodily carrying the short-legged boy; thus the shouts.
"Is...is he okay?" Mokuba asked, stumbling over and sitting down next to Marik.
The Egyptian sighed. "The dark does not know... The shadows have weakened him, Dark Child. The shadows hurt the light much more than the dark; the dark does not know..."
"Well, I don't know much about spirits, but at least he's breathing," Mokuba said. "I just wish we'd gotten here sooner. Poor Bakura..." He sniffled a bit, but then his head jerked up suddenly and he rushed headlong across the room.
"What? Where is Dark Child going?" Marik's voice was frightened, like a little child who didn't want to be left alone.
"I forgot about Ryou!" Mokuba explained breathlessly, dropping to the floor next to the tightly bound light-haired hikari. "Ryou, are you all right? Did they hurt you?" He pulled out the gag first, so the poor teenager could speak.
Ryou coughed for a few minutes. "No...no, they didn't do anything to me," he finally managed. "I...I was too valuable as a host body...but they - they k - killed Bakura-chan..." He coughed again, now with tears streaming down his face. Mokuba finished untying the knots around his hands and ankles and pulled him into a tight hug.
"It's going to be okay," Mokuba murmured. "It's going to be okay... Seto will fix everything... He found Yuugi, they'll fix everything... Everything's going to be okay, he promised. He promised, Ryou, he promised...!"
"Well, if Kaiba-san promised," Ryou answered with a weak smile. "Go back and...help Malik. I think he's coming around." He picked up the pieces of the Millennium Ring and caressed them lovingly; Mokuba bit his lip for a moment in hesitation before crawling back over to the two Egyptians.
Malik was still unsconcious, but his fingers were twitching occasionally as if he was trying to grasp something. Marik stroked his hikari's hand; bronze fingers tightened around darker bronze, and a tiny smile flitted across Malik's face for an instant.
"Dark Child," Marik murmured after a moment. "Dark Child, what is pretty-pretty's name?"
"He's called Malik," Mokuba replied softly.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Stupid alarm," Yuugi muttered. It had been going off consistently for almost an hour now, warning him that the engines were overheated and that the hull integrity was being breached. The latter fact he knew anyway; the rising water in the main compartment proved that quite readily.
||Yuugi, what were you thinking?!|| Yami raged. ||You could be killed!||
The digital duelist sighed. ||Yes, Yami, I could. But if you and Kaiba-san and Sumisu-san survive, and you save our friends, then it's well worth it. There's no other way. Now please, either be quiet or help me plot the last bit of our course - I've got to keep these engines running as long as possible, and I can't do that if I'm busy arguing with you.||
||But Yuugi - ||
||Look at it this way, Yami. If you help me, there's a better chance that I'll survive. Kaiba's computer has wireless internet access; use it to hack into the computer mainframe and pull out the information you need. I have to concentrate on the engine right now.||
||...Yuugi...aibou...||
Yuugi gave another quiet sigh. ||Please, Yami. I need your help. I can't do this without you.||
||Then why did you agree to it in the first place?!|| The former ruler's mental voice was taut with grief; Yuugi had to force down a wave of heartrending guilt.
||Please, Yami, don't make me explain it... Just help me. Okay?||
||...all right. Give me a moment.||
||Thanks, Yami.||
Thrummm...thrummm...thrummm... The propellers were vibrating, wearing down their shafts as they spun at terrible velocities. There was no way they could last another hour.
||Hey, Yami?||
||Yes, aibou?|| The spirit's voice was quiet now, all emotion held behind a wall of resigned determination.
||I have to know the fastest way to reach the Nankai trough. Can you find that for me?||
||Yes, aibou.|| A series of images flashed through his head, one after another; he flipped through them rapidly, both his biological and mechanical minds working in tandem to chart the shortest route. They would be cutting it very close. Coming up from the south, they could just pass Nagoya; nothing farther. At best, Kaiba and Yami and Sumisu-san would have to cross over the western edge of the Nankai trough in the sub. The engines wouldn't be able to take the strain of moving the base forward and upwards at the same time.
That gave him fifty-five more minutes of human contact before everything ended.
The sudden re-introduction of large amounts of water to the inside of the structure, he knew, would short out almost all of the electronics. Already he could feel minor systems going off-line with just a foot or so of water sloshing about. And when the central controls collapsed, the generators would be left unregulated; the base would explode in ten minutes or less. It was inevitable.
But it didn't really matter. He'd known from the instant he'd been kicked out of his own body that he would never make it back. He'd been resigned to the idea for weeks. He just wished he'd been able to do more before it happened.
Fifty minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly. If it's this bad for me, he couldn't help thinking, I don't want to know how Kaiba feels.
THWANG. THWANG.
"Mouto? Mouto, what's going on?" Kaiba had opened the tiny sub's hatch and poked his head out, looking around for the source of the noise.
"It's the outer support structures," was the grim answer. "They weren't meant to withstand this kind of speed for this long. You'd better get back inside; I don't know how long the dome will last." Kaiba nodded and slipped back inside. A moment later his voice crackled over the radio, but quietly, as though he didn't want Sumisu-san to overhear.
"Mouto, you can still back out of this. Smith can take us the rest of the way - it can't be that far."
"No, Kaiba," Yuugi replied. "Please, don't tempt me. I'm taking you as far as I can - it's faster this way."
He couldn't decide if the next noise was a sigh or just static. "I'll put this plainly, Mouto. I don't want you to destroy yourself."
"Will you and Yami stop it?! I don't like it any more than you do, but there's no better way! If you have another idea, I'm all ears," he snapped.
"That cinches it. I'm downloading you onto my laptop."
"What?! Kaiba, no, don't, you can't, I'm still - " But it was no use. Even over the radio he could hear the tiny click-click-click that meant the CEO was carrying out his word; the guy was too stubborn for his own good. Hurriedly, he increased the base's speed and changed the course slightly. This path was more risky, but if the engines held out long enough it would bring them closer to Domino - the downside was, if the engines cut out too soon they would ram straight into the side of the trough. One could only hope.
Even as these thoughts were running through his head, Yuugi was still cursing at the top of his digital lungs.
"Kaiba, you arrogant bastard, you can't do this, you'll kill yourse - aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
He could feel parts of his mind being torn recklessly from the computer mainframe, ripped away like an old band-aid - it was agony. The Winged Dragon of Ra's attack was nothing compared to this. If he'd still been in a physical form, he would have fainted; as it was, the electronic pulses that simulated synapses faltered and died, and he knew no more.

Emerald-green eyes blinked and cleared.
"Ahh...major headache," Otogi moaned, rubbing his temples. "What happened...where am I...?"
"I...don't know," Anzu answered uncertainly. She, too, had a roaring headache, but she'd been mind-controlled before; she shook it off easily. "But I think the real question is, why did Marik release us? Something must have happened to him!"
Honda snarled. "He deserves it, the bastard." Anzu glowered at him for a moment, but then her glare faltered, and she shrugged.
"Yeah...you're probably right. But that just brings us back to Otogi's question. I don't recognize this place."
The game creator looked around, but to no avail; even now that his muddled thoughts had cleared he still had no idea where they were. Honda, however, was slightly more familiar with the Domino streets.
"We're behind the institution," he said in surprise. "In the alley between it and the next hospital building. But...why? What have we been doing?"
"Mrrgh vhhhg ghhrmvh!"
"Aaah! Wha - Mouto-san? What are you doing here?" Anzu bent down and pulled out the gag while Otogi fumbled with the cords that bound his hands.
"What were you three thinking?!" the elderly shopkeeper raged once he was free. "Tying me up like that and dragging me all across town! You almost gave me a heart attack - I've never been more shocked in my life!"
The aspiring dancer's face burned. "Oh, Mouto-san, I'm so sorry! Really, I am... I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you we were all being mind-controlled, would you...?"
"...yes, I would," Sugoroku smiled, face softening. "I've spent enough time with my grandson to believe in that kind of thing. But that still doesn't explain why..."
Otogi shrugged. "If we knew that, we wouldn't be in this situation, now would we?"
"I vote we go inside and call Ryou," Honda said. "He and Bakura understand Marik better than we do, they might be able to make some sense of this." The other three nodded in agreement, and they all trooped around to the front of the building and walked inside.
"...whoa. What happened here?"
"It looks like a bomb went off or something..."
"Excuse me? Can I help you?" It was an Asian man in a doctor's coat; his nametag read Dr. Akira.
"Er, yeah," Anzu said. "Can we borrow your phone? We got lost, and need to call for a ride..."
Akira nodded. "Most certainly. Please, follow me - the only phones are in the offices, I'm afraid." He turned and walked into a back hallway, leaving the three teens and one old man to follow nervously.
"Hey, do you guys hear that?" Honda murmured.
"It's someone screaming," Otogi said. He glanced around; this place gave him the creeps. "Freaky."
"Well, it is an institution, Anzu pointed out. "I'm just surprised it isn't louder. I guess the rooms are farther away from the front than the offices."
There was a long silence, during which the four listened to the screams more attentively.
"Let me out of here! I'm not insane! You don't understand, I have to help my friend, he's in trouble - please, you've just gotta let me out of here!" There was a faint sound of something slamming against a wall, and then silence.
Anzu's eyes were wide. "Is it just me, or does that sound like - "
"Jounouchi," Sugoroku finished. "Akira! Akira-san, wait - do you have a new patient here, perhaps? A tall blonde? Speaks with an accent?"
"Why, yes, we do. We just admitted him today - why?" the doctor asked, mildly surprised. The four exchanged glances.

The interior of the sub was quiet. The Texan oceanographer was leaning over the controls, double- and triple-checking everything; Kaiba was leaning weakly against the porthole and trying not to let himself be overwhelmed with grief. Only that morning he'd been creating a new program for his brother's birthday; now that brother was dead, and the program (along with nearly everything else on the laptop) had been deleted to make room for two minds that he'd already thought were gone for good.
He'd have given anything to turn back time.
"Mister Kaiba," Smith said uneasily. "Mister Kaiba, I think maybe you'd better have a look out the window." Slowly, the young CEO raised his gaze and glanced through the thick glass. A river of seawater was pouring through a rent in the dome.
"That's our cue to leave," he said tiredly. "You can either wait until the dome fills and go through the hole, or just go straight through the dome...it doesn't matter."
Smith frowned. "We'll wait. I don't want to bang my baby up any more than she already is."
Silence reigned.
Kaiba felt his eyelids drooping; he forced them up again, but it was as though gravity was exerting all its force on those two pieces of skin alone. The quiet gurgle of water rushing around the sub faded into nothingness as he fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.
The American glanced over at the teenager half an hour later, thinking to tell him that they were outside of the base and headed for shore, but stopped when he saw the CEO peacefully dozing. He gave a small smile.
"Poor guy..."
Blue eyes suddenly snapped open, flicking first out the window before coming to rest on the American's face. "Did you feel that?"
Smith frowned. "Feel what?"
"I'm not sure. A rumbling, as though something were - " His words were cut off by a brilliant flash of light; the sub flipped end over end, sending the two men crashing into the wall repeatedly. Behind them, tiny pieces of what had once been Noa's underwater base spiralled away into the darkness.
Kaiba groaned. His side was consumed by a blazing agony. He knew without a doubt that at least two ribs were shattered, possibly more.
"You all right?" the American asked, picking himself up gingerly and crawling over to where the CEO was curled on the floor.
Kaiba gritted his teeth. "I'm fine."
"What are you doing?"
The brunette was using the seat behind him to lever himself upright, ignoring the pain it caused. He ignored Smith as well. It took a moment for his fumbling fingers to enter the security code on the side of his briefcase; after that, everything went smoothly. A minute later Yuugi-tachi's minds were completely uploaded to the KaibaCorp. mainframe.
"Okay...then don't tell me."
The younger man winced as he set the laptop back into the briefcase and slid it into a relatively secure position under the seat. Holding back a groan, he explained that he'd moved the duo to a different computer system; if something happened, then at least they weren't trapped in the laptop.
Smith's brow furrowed. "Something like what?"
"The sub sinks."
"She won't," the American said with an easy grin. He ran a hand over the controls. "My baby's indestructible. I've had her for...too long..." His voice trailed off, and he stared at his fingers in horror. They were wet. "How'd you know?" he breathed.
Wordlessly, Kaiba pointed at a tiny stream of water hissing through the upper corner of the front viewscreen. The movement sent another spasm of agony shuddering through his side.
Smith moaned in fear. "We're going to die in here...die, Mister Kaiba, die! Do you hear me?!"
"Yes. I know."
"And you're not concerned about this?!"
"Not particularly."
Smith's face darkened in fury. "Damn you, Kaiba!" he raged. "What right do you have to play with peoples' lives like this?! I agreed to a simple trip down to the canyon, not a romp halfway across the world! I never signed on for giant underwater bases and virtual reality worlds. I'm not dying because of you, Mister Kaiba - you got us into this situation, now you can damn well get us out!"
The brunette in question turned a cool stare on his companion. "Do you think I haven't already done everything within my power? There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."
"What about your cell phone? Call for help!"
Grimacing, the CEO silently pulled the phone out of his pocket; it was smashed beyond repair. It had been between his ribs and whatever he'd hit.
The American was silent for a moment. "Then your laptop," he said more quietly. "Is there any way you can contact someone through that?"
"I have. We're too far out, too far down; it's extremely unlikely that anyone will reach us before the pressure breaks the glass."
"Is there really nothing else you can do?"
Kaiba sighed. "No. I would not lie about that."
"I...shouldn't have snapped at you," Smith said, massaging his temples. "It's just that...there's nothing I can do, either. The explosion cut through the fuel line. We've only got another five, maybe ten minutes of movement before the engines cut out, according to the gauges."
Blue eyes widened. "They're still functional? Then use them, you idiot!"
"It won't be enough to make a difference. You can't swim that far with your side like that."
"I can't, but you can," Kaiba snapped. "I'm not taking responsibility for your death if you don't make any efforts to prevent it. Now, take this scrap heap to the surface, or I'll do it myself."
"I'm telling you, it's useless - " His words were cut off when the CEO struggled to his feet and limped, bent nearly double with one arm around his waist, to the controls. A moment later the familiar thrum of the engines made the floor vibrate.
"...you don't kid around, do you."
"No," Kaiba replied icily, "I don't."

The apartment was quiet; Ryou was curled in the corner, still toying with what was left of the Ring, and Malik hadn't yet awakened. Neither Mokuba nor Marik made any move to wake him.
"Hey, Ryou?" the raven-haired boy asked softly. "Ryou, do you mind if I get a drink?" The teen didn't answer; shrugging, Mokuba disappeared into the kitchenette. He returned a moment later with two glasses and handed one to Marik.
"What?" the Egyptian frowned. "Why does the Dark Child bring me water...? The dark did not ask for it."
"You know, most people just say thank you," the boy said lightly. He grinned; then the light went out of his eyes, and a cloud passed over his young features. "Hey, Marik."
"Yes, Dark Child?"
Mokuba hesitated. "Why...why did you come get me from Seto's office? Why did you knock out Mouto-san at the door? And why did you mind-control our friends?"
The Egyptian seemed to flinch. "Is the Dark Child angry?" he asked timidly.
"No, not angry...just confused. You were acting so mean, like you were going to hurt me or something..." He blinked away tears. He saw me! It's Marik, Seto, it's Marik, he's coming in through the window!
Marik ran his finger around the rim of his glass a few times, wiping away the condensation. He seemed to be thinking.
"...Marik?"
"The ichi-go," he sighed. "The ichi-go were going to steal Dark Child's body, like they stole Pharaoh-sama's... Dark Child was the only one who came to talk to the darkness, in the white place. The dark...the dark couldn't let them take Dark Child away. So he used the Dark Child's friends to find the Dark Child... The darkness didn't know it was Pharaoh-father-father, he thought it was the ichi-go...Pharaoh-father-father and the ichi-go look the same."
"The 'ichi-go'?"
"The one-five - the body stealers, the bad men, the - " Marik shook his head, unable to find the words he wanted.
"The Big Five? Seto's Board of Directors? Is that who you're talking about, Marik?"
"Yes! Yes, the one-five, the ichi-go!"
Mokuba's eyes were wide. "How did you find out what they were planning?"
"The darkness said...said that if ichi-go would bring him the Millenium Rod and help him leave the white place, he would give them the Dragon, and the Pharaoh's servants..."
Mokuba tried not to roll his eyes. "I'm going to teach you some names, I really am," he said. "Who's this dragon?"
Now Marik really did flinch; more like, he scooted rather perceptibly away from his young companion. He mumbled something under his breath.
"What?"
"...the blue-eyes master...Dark Child's brother," he repeated, only slightly louder.
Usually cheerful eyes were suddenly blazing. "You told them you'd give them nii-sama's body if they got you out?!" Mokuba screeched. Even as short as he was, he still managed to tower over the Egyptian yami; of course, that may have been because said spirit was actively cowering.
Marik held up his hands in defense and shook his head wildly, protesting, "The darkness changed his mind! The darkness will not harm Dragon, no no, not if Dark Child doesn't wish it - he swears, he swears, the darkness swears..." His light violet eyes were wide and frightened, like a toddler whose parent has disappeared in the grocery store. "Besides, ichi-go is gone. The dark has no reason to hurt the Dragon."
"I guess you're right," Mokuba said hesitantly, sitting back down. "But promise that you won't hurt Seto? Please?"
Marik gave an uncertain smile. "The darkness promises."

The sudden silence, though expected, still sent a shiver up Kaiba's spine.
"Well, I guess that's it for the engines then," Smith said. "We're swimming from here."
"I hate swimming," Kaiba muttered under his breath. Not that it mattered, anyway. He wouldn't be leaving leaving the sub any time soon; a few crushed ribs had made sure of that. He wasn't sure he wanted to, anyway. There was just no point in returning to Domino City if his brother was dead.
He took a long slow breath, forcing down the lump in his throat. All it served to do was send him into a coughing fit. He wiped his hand on his pants; it left a dark red streak.
The American was standing under the hatch, already spinning the lock to open it. He paused and glanced at the CEO. "You coming?"
Kaiba only hesitated for the barest of instants. "No."
"What?! Why not?"
"I'll do nothing but slow you down if I go. On the other hand, if I stay here I may be able to reach someone on my laptop."
Smith's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shook his head helplessly. "If you refuse, I suppose I can't force you to," he sighed. "You're stubborn, Mister Kaiba, I'll give you that much."
The CEO in question forced a wry smile. "You're learning."
"Then this is goodbye."
"Yes. It is."
The oceanographer bit his lip, obviously stalling for time. "We could try the radio again, see if anyone is within range...?"
But the younger man shook his head. "No good, you know that. It's - " he coughed again; more blood " - dead." He flicked said radio on for emphasis and spun the dial; nothing came through but static. He assumed the explosion had ripped off the external antennae.
He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sudden appearance of his companion's hand in front of his face. He blinked.
"Then, may your god watch over you."
"And you," he replied, shaking Smith's hand. It was strong, well-calloused, but shaking. "Now go. Every moment you delay..."
He didn't finish his sentence; he didn't have to. Smith nodded silently and turned back to open the hatch. But somehow his fingers slipped, and rather than swinging outward like it was designed to do the solid metal sheet exploded downwards, driven into the Texan's legs by the water pressure.
"Sumisu-san!" Kaiba shouted, slipping back into Japanese. The other man groaned and said something; Kaiba couldn't hear him, thanks to the rushing water. "Smith, hold on - hold on, man!" Biting back a groan of his own, the CEO launched himself across the tiny sub and braced himself over top of the oceanographer. The water pounded into his back, making his side explode in unbearable pain; as soon as Smith had managed to drag himself off to the side, Kaiba's knees gave out and he fell face-forward into the rising water. A surprisingly strong arm caught his hair and pulled him upwards.
"Well, now what the hell are we supposed to do?" Smith shouted. "Damn hatch broke my legs, and at the rate this thing is filling up - " he spat out a mouthful of seawater " - you'll never have time to do anything."
Kaiba tossed a trademark glare at the hatch before turning to face his companion; then he spun and looked more closely at the rushing water. It was strangely light - they were near the surface!
"Take a deep breath," he yelled back. "I'm going to block the water long enough for you to get out - you can float to the surface, it's not far."
But the American shook his head. "No way, Mister Kaiba! If we're getting out, we're getting out together."
Texans were strangely resistant to the Death Glare, it seemed.
"Kaiba, it will never work - I can't swim with my legs like they are!"
"You won't have to. Just fill your lungs, and you'll float up." Half holding the oceanographer out of the water with one arm, he wiped a trickle of salty liquid from the corner of his mouth with the other. He knew from the unique metallic taste that it wasn't seawater.
"Then why the hell don't you come?!"
"I will," Kaiba lied. "I'll be right behind you - just go!" Without giving the older man time to react, Kaiba dragged him over to the still-rushing water (there were only about six inches of air left, and that was rapidly disappearing) and forced his head through the hatch.
There was a moment of frantic activity, and then the limply twitching legs disappeared; he was alone. Kaiba squeezed his eyes closed against the seawater and allowed himself to sink to the floor of the sub. He was shaking; whether it was from the icy water, the exhaustion he felt in every fiber of his being, or the all-encompassing pain that ravaged his side he wasn't quite sure.
I'm sorry, Mokuba.
A slow trickle of silver bubbles trickled from the sub as she fell through the waters of Japan.

Five pairs of feet pounded the pavement, accompanied by five sets of lungs gasping for air.
"Can't we...take a quick...break?" Otogi panted.
Jou shook his head. "No! We have to...find Malik!" But he, too, was tired, and only a block later he tripped and landed heavily on his side.
"I'll take that as an omen," the game creator deadpanned as he collapsed onto a nearby bench. Jou picked himself up off the sidewalk, but didn't complain; he was a sprinter, not a marathon runner.
Sugoroku, surprisingly, was the least out-of-breath of the group. His speech was only slightly halting. "You four youngsters run on to Bakura's apartment. I'll go back to the shop and call the institution, and arrange Jounouchi's real release." He grinned slightly; the blonde had gone slightly nuts when he heard that Marik had used the Rod on his friends, and the doctors had been all too happy to let him leave unmolested. They had already sent three of their colleagues to the emergency room with broken noses and jaws. However, they'd made Sugoroku promise to call them back and finalize the release so that it could be officially documented.
"We'll call you from Ryou's with news," Anzu promised. The elderly man nodded and jogged off down the street; the teens panted a moment more, then tore off again. It didn't take much longer to reach the apartment.
Honda slowed and pointed upwards. "Hey, isn't that one on the corner his place?" he asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"The window's smashed - it looks like something smashed through it."
Jounouchi stopped suddenly, eyes wide. "Not something," he whispered. "Someone."
There, sprawled on the sidewalk and covered with shattered glass, limbs twisted at impossible angles, was Yuugi.
"Oh, my God..."

||What the - ?! Where am I?||
||I believe we are in the KaibaCorporation computer,|| Yami replied. ||Kaiba must have changed his mind about leaving us in the laptop.||
Yuugi frowned. That didn't make sense - the laptop was perfectly safe, right? ||But why? What happened?||
||If I knew that, I would have told you already.||
||I'm sorry,|| Yuugi sighed. ||I shouldn't yell at you... It's just that I'm so sick of being shuffled around from place to place, with no say in any of it. I feel like I haven't made my own decisions in years.||
The former Pharaoh flinched. He knew the reincarnation hadn't meant that to include him, but it was true; the poor boy had been forced into innumerable situations against his will ever since he'd solved the Puzzle. There were times when Yami wished he'd never been released. As much as he enjoyed even the limited freedoms allowed him, he wasn't sure it was worth the price of Yuugi's constant unhappiness and worry. Rather, he knew it wasn't.
||Yami? Yami, you still there?||
||I'm here.||
There was a moment of silence. ||So...what exactly are we supposed to do now?||
||Nothing. Until Kaiba learns how to transfer your mind back to your body, we are trapped.||
||Wait a minute - my mind? What about you, Yami?||
If he'd been in physical or even spirit form, Yami would have turned his head away; as it was Yuugi had no way of knowing he was crying anyway. ||I will not be returning with you,|| he said softly.
||What?! Yami, what are you - ||
||It is time for you to have your own life back, Yuugi. I have already had my chance; now that Marik is no longer trying to take over the world and Kaiba and I have...ah...settled our differences, there is no reason for me to inhabit this earth. Besides, my presence has caused more harm than good.||
||This is because of what I said, isn't it?|| Yuugi asked sadly. ||Yami, I know I may get annoyed sometimes, and I know that I've gotten mad at you a lot lately, but that doesn't mean I want you to leave! I...don't leave me alone here, Yami,|| he begged.
||It is not your fault, mou hitori no boku,|| the former ruler reassured him. ||I have been meaning to say this for...for some weeks now. Yuugi, it is not right that you should have to give up part of your life on my account. Fate decrees - my heart decrees - that I must leave.||
Yuugi was sobbing. ||But not now, Yami, please not now! I can't handle this on my own, it's too dark and empty here, please don't leave me...!||
||Hush. I will not leave yet. But when Kaiba removes us from this computer database, I will not accompany you back into the real world; and when you are back in your rightful body, you will smash the Puzzle and thus free yourself. Do you understand, Yuugi? As much as it hurts, this is the right thing for you - rather, for me - to do.||
||I...I understand.||

I'm sorry, Mokuba. I shouldn't have left. I should never have left you, I should have been there; I've failed.
I've failed you.
And I've failed your friends, the Pharaoh's followers... I said I was going to save them. I promised Yuugi I would save them. I failed him, too.
The only thing I did right was leaving you behind.
I'm so sorry, Mokuba, I'm so sorry...
Brown bangs floated in front of his eyes, swaying gently. His body was already numb. He wasn't sure, but he thought he was crying; here in the water there was no way to tell.
The water. It was so quiet, so peaceful. Everything he had ever wanted.
...well, no. It was not Mokuba, not Mokuba's dark eyes sparkling with laughter, not his impossibly long hair flying behind him as he ran to greet his older brother.
But that was good. Because if this was Mokuba, then Mokuba would be cold and wet, and drowning. So it was good.
...wait, no. Mokuba was already gone. Marik had killed him. He'd heard it; he'd heard the screaming, the fighting, the crying, the sound of a head hitting the wall and the shriek of fear and pain and then the silence, the sudden silence that had left him cold and tired and terribly alone.
But if he was alone...where had that hand come from? It was there, in front of his face, gesturing. Gesturing for what? Something. Something. He didn't know. He didn't care. Slowly, so slowly, he lifted a finger and poked at the hand; it lunged for his wrist. He giggled. Cold water splashed into his lungs and made his chest hurt; he giggled some more.
The hand reached down and clamped in an iron grip around his wrist, yanking him upwards. The blue-eyed teen whimpered in pain and tried to curl into a ball.
I don't want to go. Don't make me go.
No matter what happens, I don't want you to hang up.
Don't make me go. Please don't make me go.
You have to go.
But I don't want to.
I want you to, nii-sama. Can you do it? For me?
For you? ...I don't know, Mokuba...I like it here...
Please, nii-sama?
But I'm so tired. I just want to rest.
You can rest later. But now, you have to swim.
Swim?
Yes, nii-sama. You have to swim. Don't you remember? You're racing Yuugi. You have to swim, you have to win the race.
Race?
Yes, the race, you have to win the race. You have to swim, so you can win the race.
I'm so tired, though...for you, you said? Well...okay.
Thank you, nii-sama! Now just keep swimming! That's it, just a little farther...a little farther...
Mokuba...I'm cold, I hurt, I don't think I can win... Can't Yuugi win? Just this once? I promise I'll never lose again, just let me rest...just this once...
No, nii-sama. No. Look, Yuugi's beating you! You can't let him win, big brother! You have to keep swimming!
Keep...swimming...? Yeah...beat Yuugi...win the duel... But this isn't a duel, Mokuba.
I know that. It's a race.
Race...?
I made it a race. If you can beat me and Yuugi to the surface, you win!
Beat...Yuugi...? Okay...yeah, okay, I can do that...just a little farther...
The hand that had been pulling him upwards was still clenched tightly around his wrist, but now it was a dead weight pulling him down; he didn't notice. He had to win the race. Mokuba wanted him to win.
Just a few more feet, nii-sama. Then you'll win.
But...I don't want to win, Mokuba. I want to go back down there. It's quiet down there.
No, nii-sama. No. You have to win. You have to win.
Well...if you say so...
Just a few more feet, nii-sama. Just keep swimming. For me, remember. You're doing this for me.
Okay, Mokuba. For you.
His head broke the surface in a cascade of water droplets; he hacked and coughed until he thought his lungs would explode. The water he expelled was tinted with more than a little blood.
I won, Mokuba.

"He's not answering," Mokuba said worriedly. "Something's wrong, Marik. Nii-sama always answers his phone when I call."
The dark spirit frowned. "The Dragon is in trouble, Dark Child?"
"I hope not... Seto, it's Mokuba. I hope you're okay, because you're not answering your phone - I just wanted to call you and tell you not to worry. Marik is nice now, and he got rid of the Big Five and saved Malik and Ryou. Please be okay, nii-sama - I love you." The raven-haired boy set the phone down with a click and a sigh.
Marik was watching him with shining eyes. "Dark Child trusts the dark now?" he asked hopefully. "Dark Child doesn't hate the dark?"
"Nope," Mokuba answered cheerfully. "If you were still evil, you would have hurt me and Malik and Seto, but instead you got rid of the Big Five - the ichi-go. So we're friends now." He grinned up at the spirit, who gave him a tentative smile in return.
"Dark Child and the dark...friends... The dark likes this," he said slowly. Then, louder, "Friends."
Mokuba grinned.
"...someone turn down the Ra-damned lights," Malik groaned, sitting up and shading his eyes. His gaze fell on Marik for an instant; he jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards, panicking. "Mokuba! Mokuba, get away from him, he's dangerous!"
Marik gazed at his lighter half sadly, still sitting motionless on the floor. A single tear leaked from the corner of his eye.
"No he's not," Mokuba said, standing. "He's not evil anymore, Malik. He's on our side now. Can't you trust him? He saved you, Malik! He saved you and Ryou both!"
"It's true," the white-haired teen said softly when the Egyptian still looked skeptical. "He...he saved you from the Big Five... Mokuba's telling the truth..." His voice faded away, and he returned to rocking back and forth silently, staring at the shattered Ring.
Malik hesitated an instant longer before letting his shoulders slump. "Then I guess...I guess I should apologize, Mariku."
The dark climbed gracefully to his feet and moved to stand in front of his hikari. He smiled. "Don't apologize...Malik." He pressed the Millennium Rod into the hikari's hand, and then he was gone; Malik (now back in his rightful physical form) blinked.
"Eh...what was that about?"

"Be okay, be okay, be okay," Jou prayed, falling to his knees at his friend's side and checking for a pulse. "Yes! He's alive! Anzu, go up to Ryou's apartment and call an ambulance - Honda, you and Otogi go with her in case Marik's there. I'll stay with him."
The three exchanged quick glances before turning and running wordlessly to the front of the apartment building, leaving the blonde alone. His shoulders slumped the instant they were gone.
"God, Yuugi...don't do this to me," he begged. "I already lost you once, don't make me go through that again... I don't know if it's really you in there, or the Big Five, but whatever you do just don't die, damn it! We'll - we'll figure something out, bring you back somehow, just don't die..." He was sobbing openly now, golden eyes drowning in tears.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The blonde leaped to his feet, eyes flicking wildly from shadow to shadow, all senses on panic-alert. He knew that voice. "Mokuba!" he yelled. "Mokuba!"
But his shouts were greeted only with silence. The blonde started towards the door, but something held him back; he couldn't just leave Yuugi alone... Even if he was unconscious, it wasn't right. Mokuba was a smart kid, he could take care of himself...
...right?
Lowering himself wearily to the ground by his friend's unmoving form, Jou sighed and buried his face in his hands.
"You'd know what to do if you were here, Yuugi," he couldn't help but murmur. "Why...why did it have to be you, of all people...? You never deserved any of this...you've never done anything wrong, why did fate choose you? Why not me, or Honda, or Otogi, or even Anzu...? Someone, anyone but you..."
Yuugi made no answer.
A few moments later, his three friends returned, a familiar raven-haired boy in tow.
"Mokuba! Are you all right, pipsqueak? I heard you shouting, you scared the holy bejeezus out of me - "
Mokuba gave an embarassed grin. "Heh, sorry, Jouno... I forgot that Marik wasn't still mind-controlling them. I'm sorry I scared you, I shouldn't have screamed like that."
The blonde frowned suddenly. "Wait...what do you mean, forgot they weren't being mind-controlled? What did Marik make them do? And why are you here, instead of at home where you're safe? Where's that lousy brother of yours?" He stopped when he saw Mokuba's eyes go misty. "Hey, kid, what's wrong? If it's that thing about your big bro, I didn't mean it - you all right, pipsqueak?"
"It - it's nothing," Mokuba sniffled. "H - How's Yuugi doing...?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Jou sighed. "C'mere, shrimp. I think you and I both need a hug right now." The raven-haired boy climbed gratefully into Jou's lap and promptly threw his arms around the blonde's neck.
"Well, this was...unexpected," Honda muttered to Otogi. "I didn't know they were that close."
"I think it's just been a really long day for them both... I don't know, I wouldn't mind a hug myself." The game creator's eyes sparkled with a mischevious light, only slightly dulled by the concern for his friend.
Honda gave him a wary look. "You didn't mean that like I think you meant that, did you...?"
Otogi smirked. "That depends on how you think I meant it, now doesn't it?"
"Hey...you're shaking," Jounouchi accused. "What's wrong, Mokuba? C'mon, tell me. I'm your surrogate bro', you can tell me."
Mokuba buried his face in Jounouchi's shoulder for a moment, trying valiantly not to cry; it wasn't working so well. "It - it's nii-sama," he whimpered after a moment. "I'm worried about him... I've been trying to call him, but he won't answer, he always answers, Jouno, always... And I'm still scared..."
"Shhhhhh, it's okay," Jou soothed. "Kaiba's too stubborn not to be okay. He'll show up just in time to glare at everyone, call me a puppy, and take you home for dinner."
"Promise?" Mokuba asked hopefully.
The blonde gave a lopsided grin. "I promise." And if he doesn't, I am sooooo gonna whoop his rich ass.

"Promise?" Mokuba couldn't help but ask. Hearing Jou talk was almost as good as his brother...not quite, but a lot better than trying to convince himself. The puppy had the same kind of voice as nii-sama.
...Not, of course, that he would ever say that to either of them. Jouno would take it as an insult, and nii-sama would get mad at Jouno for trying to take over his role as big brother. But still, he could think it, right?
"I promise," Jouno replied with a grin. Mokuba smiled back and snuggled into the blonde's chest. He was just considering going to sleep when he heard the sirens coming.
"Hey, Jouno?"
"Yeah, pipsqueak?"
"Yuugi's going to be okay, right?"
There was a moment of hesitation, but then Jou said, "Of course he is. He's almost as stubborn as your brother. He'll be fine."
"That's good...that way nii-sama can put his mind back..." He was speaking in a low mumble, but apparently the puppy had canine hearing; his back stiffened.
"What'd you say?"
"N - nothing!" Mokuba squeaked.
Jou caught his face in his hand and made the boy's dark eyes meet his own. His voice was hoarse.
"Mokuba. What. Did. You. Say."
It was the younger boy's turn to hesitate. "...I said that was good, because if he's okay then nii-sama can put his mind back," he repeated quietly.
"And how is Kaiba going to do this?"
"...he found Yuugi today..."
"Where?!"
Mokuba's voice was getting progressively smaller. He knew Jou wasn't mad at him, but that didn't mean he wasn't a little scared. "...in Noa's base..."
Sparks flashed in Jou's eyes. "Why, that...that egotistical little bastard," he hissed. "What in the seven hells was he thinking, disappearing halfway across the world like that?!"
Mokuba cringed and whimpered softly; hearing Jou speak so angrily about his brother was almost as bad as if Jou was talking to him.
The blonde seemed to realize this, because he hugged the boy tighter and apologized. "I'm sorry, Mokuba... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you... I was just...worried, I guess, and it made me angry. Don't cry, Mokuba, don't cry, I'm not mad at you, really I'm not..."
"I know," Mokuba sniffled. Then, quietly, almost inaudibly, he added, "...I want my nii-sama..."
Jou rocked back and forth gently, cradling the younger boy to his chest. "I know, Mokuba. I know."
By the time the ambulance arrived, Mokuba had drifted off to sleep; Jounouchi had to climb to his feet without waking him, and held him even as he gave the EMTs the information they asked for.
"Any allergies?"
"Not that I know of - and I don't think he reacts badly to any medication, either."
"What about recent injuries, anything of note?"
"No, not really."
"Are you family?"
"No, I'm a close friend; his grandfather lives about ten blocks away."
"Has he been informed?"
"Eh..."
"Yes," Anzu said, stepping forward. "Yes, we had Malik call, since he was staying behind anyway. He said he would meet us at the hospital instead of wasting time coming here first."
"That's fine," the paramedic said, nodding. "Okay, we can take one person in the ambulance, but the rest of you will have to get to the hospital another way."
Jounouchi opened his mouth to volunteer, then closed it again; he desperately wanted to stay with his friend, but at the same time he couldn't bear to give up Mokuba.
"I'll go with him," Honda said. Jou tossed him a thankful glance; next to himself, Honda was Yuugi's best friend, and unlike Anzu he could stomach the hospital setting.
"We'll get there as soon as we can," Jou called as Honda followed their unconscious friend into the ambulance. The brunette nodded, and then the doors swung shut and he was gone.
Jou hugged Mokuba a little tighter and whispered, "Please, Yuugi, please be okay..."

||He memorized all of the duelists' decks?! That's cheating!||
Yami chuckled. ||If you can find the rule that says that, Yuugi, he may listen...but I doubt it. Besides, that's in the past.||
||Yeah, but still - he cheated! I can't believe Kaiba would do that!||
||Can't you?||
Yuugi was going to reply that no, he couldn't, but the memory of a certain rooftop duel made him rethink his words. ||All right, so maybe I can believe it,|| he admitted. Anyone who is willing to make his opponent choose between his life or his family's could easily memorize a deck or two. ||But still, it's unfair. That means I was at disadvantage going in.||
||You still won,|| the darker spirit pointed out. ||And don't forget, he held his own against Isis without knowing a single one of her cards, and he defeated Noa easily enough. He's a worthy opponent even if he does...ah...increase his chances of winning.||
||You always were one to defend your enemies, weren't you?||
Even without being able to see him, the young duelist knew Yami was raising an eyebrow. ||And what exactly do you mean by that?||
||Oh, nothing...nothing at all,|| was the too-innocent reply.
||To steal Jounouchi's words: If this was a fair fight, you know I'd be winning.||
||Ah, but it is a fair fight.||
||No it isn't. I am unwilling to sink to the depth of the petty insults you have already reached.||
||Ooooooooh, that was cold, Yami. That was real cold.|| There was a long silence; the former ruler was quite obviously smirking. Yuugi skimmed his mind for another comeback. ||Oh, well,|| he said with a theatrical sigh, ||at least I'm not the one who thought the pound was a religious shrine and - ||
||Yuugi!||
||What? It's true. You - ||
||Not that,|| Yami interrupted again. ||Go read the newest article in the Domino City paper. It's...it's something I think you should see.||
There was a long silence as the lighter of the two read the first paragraph; when he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
||Oh. That's...that's not a good thing.||
But the other spirit was considerably more excited. ||No, it's not. It's terrible. But think for a moment, Yuugi, think about it. You - your body, that is - is in the hospital, attached to Ra only knows how many computers. We are in the KaibaCorp mainframe, with essentially unlimited access. Think about that.||
||What exactly are you suggesting, Yami?|| The teenager's voice was skeptical; he wasn't sure he liked where this was going.
The spirit was quiet for a second. ||This is your chance to return to your body, mou hitori no boku. I can hack the hospital's systems and lead you through; it will be difficult, but I think between the hospital's technology and what Shadow Powers I have left we can do it.||
||But I don't want to go back,|| Yuugi whispered. ||Not unless you're coming too.||
||Yuugi...|| Yami sighed. He had to do this now; there was no guarantee that Kaiba would ever find the technology that his step-father had used, and his own powers had been waning ever since he'd entered the virtual world. He wasn't sure that if he waited they would ever have this chance again. ||Yuugi, you have to go. If for no other reason than that you must tell someone where Kaiba is, what happened.||
||I'm not leaving you,|| the other responded stubbornly.
||You have to.||
||No.||
The Pharaoh took what would have been a deep breath, had he been alive. He'd never done this before, and it was humiliating beyond all possible humiliations. Worse than praying to the strays in the pound. And that was very embarrassing.
||Yuugi...Yuugi, please. I - I beg you. Do this as a favor to me.||
||I don't want you to go,|| Yuugi sobbed. ||I thought...I thought you'd always be there, always be with me... I don't want to be alone again, Yami, don't make me go!||
||You'll never be alone, mou hitori no boku. Your friends will always be behind you.||
||I don't want them behind me, Yami. I want you, at my side.||
||It's not possible. I am weakening, Yuugi. This...this separation from the Puzzle has affected me greatly. If I said that I could not return with you even if I wanted to, would it make you feel better?||
||No...||
||Then I will not say it. But it is true. You must go, Yuugi,|| he urged. ||We cannot know if Kaiba will ever return - we cannot know even if he still lives. You must tell the others.||
Yuugi sniffled a bit. ||Yami...||
||Just go, Yuugi. I will guide you.|| He felt the teen drawing slowly away, moving through the hundreds of thousands of connections that stretched between them and the hospital; a moment later he called back and said he was ready. The Pharaoh called up as much power as he could and then released it suddenly into the younger duelist.
||Yami, don't make me do this!|| Yuugi's voice was panicked. ||Don't make me leave you!||
||Go,|| he replied. ||Just go! And...|| His voice cracked; he paused a moment before continuing. ||Do not forget me...||
||Don't make me go,|| Yuugi sniffed.
||I'm sorry.|| There was a brief flash of pain as the last few ounces of Shadow Power were drained from his spirit, and a wave of heartrending sorrow, and then he was gone.
||Farewell, my light.||

"...stable with some minor internal bleeding and one leg, one arm, and a rib broken," the nurse said. "Plus a few sprains, but those will heal quickly."
Jounouchi winced. He didn't want to be the one to tell 'Jii-san just how beat up poor Yuugi was...the nurse didn't even know about the fact that his mind was currently - ah - missing in action.
"However, there's nothing particularly life-threatening; a few days here, and then he should be cleared to go home."
"Well, that's good news," Anzu sighed. "The only good news we've had all day, maybe, but good news nonetheless."
From where he was sitting across the room, Jou heard her comment and frowned. Neither he nor Mokuba had told them about Kaiba's discovery. He felt terrible about keeping it a secret, but...he would feel worse if he got their hopes up, and then something happened and it didn't work. No, it was better this way.
He shivered as the door opened and let in a blast of cool air. It was Sugoroku.
"Where's my grandson?" the old man said, making a beeline for the blonde. "Is he okay? How bad is it? What happened?"
Jou pointed to the nurse and said, "You'll have to ask her. I didn't hear what she said."
Oh, yeah, he thought as he watched the poor nurse repeat everything, definitely not something I'd want to do.
"Do you know what happened?" the elderly man asked wearily, dropping into a seat next to the blonde.
Jou shook his head. "No. Malik might, though - when I call him, I'll ask." Mokuba, curled up asleep in his lap, murmured something; Jou shifted him slightly and he fell silent again.
"He's had a long day."
"Yes...what's going on over there?" He gestured to where a cluster of doctors and nurses were disappearing into the hallway, shouting fragmented sentences and instructions over each others' heads.
"That's my grandson's room," Sugoroku breathed. He jumped to his feet. "You stay here, Jou - "
But the blonde was already standing, Mokuba still dozing in his arms. "Come on!"
"No visitors," the doctor nearest the door snapped when they tried to enter. "You'll have to stay in the waiting room for a moment."
"That's my grandson!"
"What's happening, what's going on?" Jou demanded. Mokuba opened his eyes blearily and disentangled himself from the blonde's grasp. "Oh," he said, looking down. "You're up."
"Where are we - Yuugi! What's happening, Jou? Why are all these doctors here?"
"I don't know, kid."
"It's nothing," a nurse with red hair assured them; she was busy recapping and discarding a handful of syringes another nurse had prepared. "Some of his equipment went wild, but he's fine. We're just going to move him to a different room so that it doesn't happen again."
The trio let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. "Thanks, miss," Jou said. But his skin was still crawling. There was something familiar about this, something in the air that made his shoulders tense. He winced as the sun flashed off something in the corner.
"Not a problem - oh! You'd better stand back, it's happening again."
"We've got abnormal brain waves here, people!" a different doctor shouted. "He's going into crisis!"
Jou glared at the red-headed nurse; she blinked in surprise and gave a helpless shrug before diving into the fray.
"Come on, Yuug, don't give up now," Jou murmured. He'd seen enough American shows to recognize what the flat line on the monitor meant. "Please, little buddy...don't give up now..."
There was a long silence. "We've lost him."
Mokuba hid his face in Jou's shirt, and Sugoroku stumbled backwards a few steps. "No...no, it can't be right," the old man said. "He was fine a moment ago! He can't be dead, he can't be, it's not true, you're lying - "
The red-head came back over and took him by the wrist, gently leading him out of the room. The rest of the doctors filed out as well. Jou and Mokuba, still motionless in the corner, were ignored.
Something beeped, and one of the med techs jumped. "What the hell?!"
"What is it?" Jou demanded.
"It's - it's back! Blood pressure rising, blood pressure normal, heart rate normal, breathing normal - I can't believe it!" He ran into the hallway, shouting for a Doctor Meridia to come quickly, there was a new development in case seventy-one.
"Yuugi?" the blonde breathed.
The injured teen groaned and tried to sit up; his eyes flared wide for an instant before he slumped back against the pillows.
Now it was Mokuba's turn to shout. "Yuugi!"
"Mokuba?!" This time he made it all the way to his feet before crumpling to the floor with a tiny moan. "But...Mokuba, you're...Kaiba said..." His voice disappeared into a shuddering sob, and Jou knelt by his side.
"Yuugi, it's okay," the blonde said soothingly. "Everything's going to be okay. Come on, let's get you back into the bed."
The shorter duelist shook his head, still crying. "No...no, it's not okay... Yami's gone, and I think Kaiba's dead, and Marik tried to kill Mokuba and everything's just wrong, Jou, it's all wrong!"
"Seto?" the raven-haired boy breathed. "Nii-sama? Yuugi, what happened to my big brother?!"
"He...he was in the submarine with Sumisu-san," Yuugi replied. He struggled to one knee and raised his head slightly; his eyes were dull, swimming in tears, grief-stricken and lost, but at the same time clear and caring. "The base exploded... I don't know what happened, Mokuba. I don't know where your brother is."
Sniffling slightly, the youngest of the three nodded. "Okay..."
"Oh, Mokuba, I'm so sorry...I should have stayed, I should never have left the sub, it's all my fault Mokuba, please forgive me - !"
"It's okay, Yuugi," he replied. "It's okay. Jouno's right. Nii-sama is too stubborn to let anything happen to him. So don't be sad, okay?"
Yuugi's gaze faltered, and he seemed to fade; only the blonde teen's quick reactions prevented him from falling back to the floor.
"Come on, buddy, don't give up on us," Jou said. "We're gonna find him. Everything's gonna be okay." He lifted the half-conscious duelist back into the bed and straightened him out as much as possible, then turned to Mokuba. "Look, kid...I hate to force this on ya, but you're going to have to be in charge of looking for your brother. I've only seen Yuug even half this broken up once before, and then he swore off dueling; I don't know what he'd do if he was left alone."
"I understand," Mokuba said evenly. He wiped away a tear and squared his tiny shoulders.
Jou bit his lip. "I'm really sorry, Mokuba...you know I wish I could come with you, but I can't leave Yuugi right now."
"No, it's okay, really it is," Mokuba said quickly. "I...I just wish I could stay, too. Look, here's my cell phone - I'll get the driver to bring another one, and I'll call you as soon as I find nii-sama, okay? Don't worry, Jou, I'll be fine. You stay with Yuugi."
The duelist in question raised himself on one elbow. "No. I'm coming with you."
"What?! Yuugi, you're hurt, you can't - "
"I can and I will," he snapped. "Damn it, Jou, I don't care anymore, all right?! Besides, I'm the only one who knows what happened, where he'll be."
Jou blinked. He'd never heard him curse before.
"But Yuugi," Mokuba protested, "Jouno's right, if you come you'll just be putting yourself in danger. Besides, I'm sure Yami can tell us - "
"Yami's gone," Yuugi spat. He glared at the two for a moment before falling limply back onto the bed and closing his eyes; there was a moment of silence. "Please, Mokuba. Let me come. I...I owe your brother my life. It's the least I can do."
The ten-year-old boy with an adult's eyes hesitated.
"Mokuba, please...I beg you."
"Well...all right. If the doctors say you can come."
Yuugi's mouth contorted into a remarkably good impression of Marik's grin; it sent shivers up Jounouchi's spine. "Screw the doctors. Help me up, Jou."
"Are you sure about this?" the blonde asked concernedly. "I mean, you are in the hospital - you probably shouldn't be walking around right now."
Mokuba rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk, Jou. Honda told me about your little stay in the institution."
Yuugi raised an eyebrow at him, and Jou blushed.
"But that was completely different! That was a mistake. And besides, they let me leave."
"Yeah. Because you threatened to steal the Ring and summon the Man-Eating Bug if they didn't."
"...he didn't leave anything out, did he."
"Nope. Help Yuugi - we're leaving." But as self-assured as Mokuba sounded, he couldn't help but toss a worried glance at Yuugi every few seconds.

"The Nankai trough? I don't know, mister Kaiba, that's an awfully long way out," the KaibaCorp helicopter pilot said doubtfully. "I mean, we can get there and back just fine, but even stripped down we can't stay long - maybe ten minutes at best. This chopper wasn't built for long-distance flights."
Yuugi had to hold back a shudder. Mister Kaiba... He was talking to Mokuba, of course, but that didn't change anything. It was strange to hear Kaiba's name used as if he were still there...still alive.
There was no question in Yuugi's mind that his one-time opponent was dead. How could he not be? He wouldn't have uploaded his and Yami's minds to a different computer if he thought there was any way they would survive otherwise; he was so confident that nothing he created could be destroyed. Besides, he'd pulled up the satellite images. He'd seen the explosion, seen the sheets of metal flying through the air.
There was no way anyone could have survived.
But then again, this was Kaiba,so...who knew?
"I don't care. Take out everything you can - locks, spare parts, anything but the medical kit - and get us in the air."
The pilot gave a defeated sigh. "And what about your friends, Mister Kaiba? Should I arrange for a ride to take them home?"
"No. They're coming with us."
"But mister Kaiba - !"
"Just do it, Akiyama."
"...yes, mister Kaiba."
Yuugi leaned thankfully on Jou's arm as the blonde led him to the chopper; his left leg and right arm hung limp, and a lance of pain ran up his spine every time he moved, but there was no way in the world he was sitting this out. Yami would have - had - suffered much worse for his sake.
Yami. He shook his head slightly, blinking furiously to clear the tears from his eyes. He wasn't going to think about that yet. Not until they'd found Kaiba. Then, only then when everything else was taken care of, would he allow himself to feel. Until then he had to follow Kaiba's example: Act first, hurt later.
The ride itself was excruciatingly painful. Every revolution of the rotors made him grit his teeth; Jou, half-supporting him, kept opening his mouth as if to say something but never did. For that Yuugi was thankful. He didn't think he could handle pity right now, even if it was from his best friend.
"How much longer, Akiyama?"
"Five minutes, mister Kaiba," the pilot replied. "But remember, we can only stay ten minutes maximum."
"I'll remember." Turning aside to Yuugi, he added, "We'll have to find him really fast. Do you - is there anything you know that could help us find him faster?"
The injured duelist frowned. "He should be...should be on the northern edge of the trough... I think the course was plotted for Nagoya."
"Turn north a bit," Mokuba yelled forward. "We'll start looking between the trough and Nagoya." Akiyama nodded; the chopper listed to the right as he made the necessary corrections. There was a long silence.
"Ten minutes, mister Kaiba."
Leaving his friend's side for the first time since the hospital, Jou joined Mokuba in staring intently out the window. Nothing but stunningly beautiful, undeniably deadly water in every direction.
The pilot's voice was terse. "Five minutes."
More searching; still no sign of their quarry.
"We have to turn around now, mister Kaiba."
"Five more minutes," Mokuba said, voice breaking. "Just five more minutes...and then we can go."
"Sir, we have to go now, the fuel - "
"Over there!" Yuugi cried, raising his arm and pointing. "Left side, just there - I can barely see him - " Without waiting for orders, the pilot spun the chopper around and made a beeline to the floating figure.
"This is going to be tricky," he said. "You there, the blonde - look under your seat, there should be a harness. Put it on. I'm going to lower you down so you can pick him up - then we've got to haul."
"You got it," Jou said, already scrambling for the harness. Yuugi could only watch as he threw the door open and took a deep breath, readying himself to jump -
"Nii-samaaaaaa!"

Black. Cold, empty, never-ending black.
So this is what it's like to die, Kaiba thought blandly. I didn't know it would be this...easy.
Floating effortlessly in the water, he shivered; he was sure that if he wasn't so numb he'd be screaming from the pain in his side. As it was he had lost all feeling ages ago. Ripples slapped against his ears, reminding him somehow of helicopter blades.
Great. I'm going to die thinking not about my brother, but about my helicopter. What a great "nii-sama" I make. No wonder he likes Jouno. At least the chihuahua acts like he cares.
"Nii-samaaaaaa!"
Kaiba cursed his own imagination. It wasn't enough that he kept hearing choppers; he didn't need hallucinations of Mokuba, too. That would just make this too -
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
- pain! It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt oh God it hurt -
"Seto! Oh, Seto, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to land on you are you all right?!"
- that voice, that voice was so familiar, but God it hurt -
"Seto? Nii-sama? Come on, big brother, say something!"
But you're dead, Mokuba. Just wait a few more moments. Then I can tell you everything.
"...please, nii-sama, don't do this," the voice whispered. Short wiry arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, and black hair fell into his mouth and made him cough weakly; if this was a hallucination, it was a damned accurate one.
But it had to be. Mokuba was dead.
It won't be much longer, I promise. Slowly, so slowly, the arms were fading away; the screaming agony in his chest and in his side was disappearing.
"Don't die, don't die, don't die..."
But...I'm coming to join you, Mokuba. Don't be sad. We'll be together again.
"Don't leave me alone like this...I don't want you to die, nii-sama, I don't want you to..."
But...I don't want to win, Mokuba. I want to go back down there. It's quiet down there.
No, nii-sama. No. You have to win. You have to win.
Well...if you say so...
There was a splash, and then he heard another voice. "How is he, pipsqueak?"
"I don't know, Jouno, I'm scared...he's not talking at all." The voice was nearly crying. "I don't know..."
Blue eyes cracked open slightly and met dark ones.
"Mokuba...? And puppy...?"
"You're all right!" they exclaimed as one.
"...I am now," he murmured, smiling. "Help me out of here. It's time to go home."

-----------------------------

[A/N] Heh, this is why online games are evil. The entire point of writing this thing was to get Kaiba into a helicopter...and then crash it ^_^ It actually came out a lot better than I'd hoped...I went in without a plot, so when everything just kind afell into place I was very happy. UPDATE: Okay, I redid the ending. I think this one's a bit better. At the very least, it wraps up a lot more loose ends. I'll try to edit this thing and divide it into sections for FFN by Thursday.

Random Quote:
Writers should be read, but neither seen nor heard.
- Daphne du Marier

Grey spring
Frozen summer
Rebirth fall
Blooming winter
Ode to inverses
x squared plus four x plus two
Seventy-three x cubed
Si beagh si mhor
Does it really matter?
It's still a parabola
ax+b, square root of 4ac
Multiply it by z to the seventh
Add 3i+97 to the total
And what do you get?
Just another number
Digits scrolling across the screen
Values scribbled on a crumpled paper
And there in the corner, a silver leaf
A blossom
A frigate, a sword, an eye
Or maybe it's a map,
Middle Earth perhaps?
Or maybe Lomond?
Does it matter? It's not math
Whatever it is, it's not math
And therefore it doesn't matter
Because it's not math
So sick of it all
Grey pencil smears, fading red ink
Eraser dust and torn holes
Conclusions aren't always right
Seven minus two doesn't always equal five
Are you sure the square root of nine is three?
Is there a proof?
Proofs don't always work
Give a counterexample
Explain your reasoning
Solve it for y
And ask yourself, why?
Because it's math
And conclusions aren't always right
Ode to inverses
Conclusions aren't always right
And whispers aren't always quiet
Grey summer.

-----------------------------

[A/N] This is what happens when I get bored in algebra class...

Random Quote:
In real life, I assure you, there is no such thing as algebra.
- Fran Lebowitz

"...I know, right now you can't tell, but stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me..."
The radio blared in the normally quiet Moto household, and out on the street a passerby shook his head in resignation. "Young people these days," he sighed.
In the shop portion of the building Yugi Moto was having similar feelings. He, however, vented them differently: "Yami! For the sake of Ra, turn that down!" He paused for a moment, box of cards halfway to their proper shelf, but there was no change. "Pharaohs," he spat.
In his own room however the scene was different. The radio was beginning to crackle as it was not meant to play so loudly for such a long time, but the room's sole occupant was not listening to it. Instead he was curled up on Yugi's bed, hugging his shoulders and shaking.
"...talking to myself in public, and dodging glances on the train..."
"No," the ancient spirit murmured to himself. "No, no, no..."
You must make a decision.
They are upon us!
Hurry, my Pharaoh!
This is all your fault...
You were supposed to protect us! You are our king, it was your duty...why did you not save us?
He let out an anguished scream, broken by the dry sobs that wracked his thin frame. He wished the voices to stop, willed them to stop, but still they continued, half-remembered, sorrowful, pained, angry, meek, helpless...
"...but soon enough you’re gonna think of me, and how I used to - "
"Yami? Yami, what's wrong?"
A new voice. This one he couldn't place; he had never heard it before. It was so...warm, so kind, so caring. Not like the others. Not like the others.
"Yami, please tell me what's wrong," Yugi implored, turning the former Pharaoh's head to face him. "Please?"
So young, so innocent...not like the others, Yami thought again. Not like the others...not like them... He is not like them...
"Hikari," he whispered as long-dammed tears spilled over his cheeks.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Oh come all ye pipers! O come to a man, and play the lament of two young lovers' stand... O come all you singers and raise up a song for a thief and a maiden that died much too young..."
Yugi raised an eyebrow. "You know, Kaiba, for such an impersonal guy you have strange tastes."
"How so?" The young CEO's tone made it clear he didn't want to talk, but Yugi answered anyway.
"Well, you've got a million dollars lying around, and yet your personal car was bought used. And your choice of music is...well, not what one would expect."
"What would you expect? Rock?"
"Er, something like that, yeah."
"Feh. That stuff's okay, I guess, but frankly I can't listen to it very long. Not the new stuff, anyway. The older ones are all right."
Yugi was rather shocked; he'd just heard -the Seto Kaiba- say 'stuff,' 'okay', and 'I guess', three terms he'd thought Kaiba didn't even know. There was a long silence.
Eventually the song ended, and the track changed. "My lady's a-waitin', it's been nigh a year; it'll be yet another, and moredo I fear... Finally home we are headed, instead of aweigh, and I long for the lighthouse where lives Caroline. And I long for the lighthouse, it's loved light to see, I dream of the maiden that waits there for me... And I pray that together forever we'll be..."
"When I sail home into her safe harbor," Kaiba sang quietly. "I fear it is over for me and my matesas the storm takes us over and the mizenmast breaks; it strikes the good captain down dead at the wheel... The wind is a-howlin', and the ship starts to heel..." He pulled into his usual parking space and turned off the ignition, silencing the radio. He and the spiky-haired duelist climbed out.
Yugi hesitated, biting his lip. "Hey, Kaiba?"
Kaiba turned to glance at him, not saying anything.
"...How does that song end?" Yugi finally asked.
"The ship sinks, and the man dies," Kaiba said flatly. "Why?"
"It's...er...never mind," the younger duelist replied quietly.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel for tonight, Joey," Yugi said.
"What? But why? I know you don't have any homework, so don't even try that excuse."
"It's not that," Yugi said hurriedly. "Something...er...came up." Boy, was that lame.
Joey apparently thought so, too, and his mock-hurt tone immediately shifted to one of concern. He knew from past - and rather painful - experience that Yugi never hid anything unless it was serious. "Come on, Yug, what's wrong? Tell me."
"It's nothing, I swear..."
Joey frowned. "Spit it out, buddy."
The spiky-haired duelist sighed. "It's the spirit of the Puzzle," he explained reluctantly. "He's not feeling so well recently, and...well, I'm afraid to leave him alone for too long."
"Whaddya mean, 'not feeling so well'?" the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought those guys couldn't get sick."
"It's not like that. He's...depressed, I guess. He keeps having these strange fits. I'm afraid he'll forget where - or rather, when - he is, and hurt himself."
No more than he deserves, the arrogant bastard, Joey thought, but he kept his feelings to himself. "Well, if you're sure," he agreed reluctantly. "Remember, if you need anything, just give me a call, all right? I'll have Téa bring her cell phone, so you can reach us at the arcade."
"You got it," Yugi replied with a smile. "Thanks, Joey. You're a good friend."
"Later, Yug." The blonde hung up with a quiet sigh.
Tristan stood and offered the bowl of chips, frowning when his friend declined. "Hey, what's wrong? You never turn down food."
Joey jerked his thumb toward the phone, saying, "That was Yugi. He can't come tonight."
"Well, why not?"
"Yami's sick, apparently."
"But we spirits don't get sick. It's physically impossible."
"Shut it, Bakura, and let Ryou back out...I like him better. Besides, I don't mean cold-sick. I'm talkin' pycho-sick."
It was the albino Egyptian's turn to raise an eyebrow. "And since when is that new? It's Pharaoh-baka. I already told you, he's never been right in the head. Or at least not since he became Pharaoh - I didn't know him before then."
"Ryou, do us all a favor and kick your other half out of the captain's chair," Joey sighed. The spirit frowned, but the Ring glowed slightly and his hair fell to more normal proportions as his eyes softened; Ryou had taken control again.
"Yami's right, though," he said. It seemed he'd been listening in. "He's shown me his memories - the pharaoh's never been completely sane. Yugi knows that. Why would he get so nervous now?"
"My question precisely," the blonde replied, stealing the chips from Tristan and plopping down on the couch. There were a few moments of silence before he jumped back up. "Ah, crap! I gotta tell Téa to bring her cell phone. I hope she hasn't already left!"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Kaiba household was quiet. Of course, it was never loud anyway, seeing as how the vast majority of the rooms were locked and there were rarely more than three or four people there at a time, but now it was quieter than usual. Mokuba had gone to bed early and Seto had retreated to his bedroom with his laptop.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Scribble scribble scribble. Hesitate. Scribble. Click click click on the calculator. Curse. Shred. Scribble scribble scribble. Hesitate. Click click click on the calculator. Curse.
"I can't do this!" Yugi finally shouted, rumpling up his homework and lobbing it at the far wall. "I just - " rip " - can't - " rip " - do it!" The shredded remains of another paper fluttered to the ground.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Yami raised an eyebrow. "The hikari is frustrated?"
"Algebra," Yugi sighed. "I just can't get logarithms at all... Or absolute value, or quadratic equations for that matter, and they're all on my test tomorrow. I know I'm gonna fail."
Yami's face grew stern. "The hikari should never speak like that. If the hikari studies, he will do well." The spirit-embodied stood and came to stare over Yugi's shoulder at the math book. He perused the lesson carefully, seeming to soak in everything it offered. Then, picking up the forgotten pencil, he scratched something underneath Yugi's work. A momentary frown; he glanced back at the textbook, scribbled again. Scratched out his answer. Looked back to the text. Scribble. Text. Scratch. Scribble. Text. Scratch. Scribble.
An hour and two pencils later, Yugi glanced up from his book and immediately sweatdropped. "Uh, Yami? What precisely are you doing?"
"Sending the cursed book to the Shadow Realm!" the spirit raged.
"You know, for a three-thousand year old Pharaoh, you sometimes act a lot like a teenager..."

-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"...and since this and this cancel out, and seven minus seven is zero, x equals zero. Got - what?" Yugi held up a hand to silence his yami, listening intently to something.
"I said, it's time to go!" Solomon Moto shouted again. Yugi yelled back that he would be right down and turned to his darker half.
"Sorry, Yami, I forgot - Grampa and I have to go to that showcase convention tonight! We'll keep working on this when I get back, all right?" The young duelist flashed a bright grin, and the spirit couldn't help but smile back.
"Whatever the hikari wishes," Yami replied. Yugi nabbed his jacket from its usual position on the back of the chair and dashed out of the room, shouting something incomprehensible to his grandfather. Yami gave the algebra book a final glare before retreating to his perch on the edge of the bed; the door slammed closed, and the house fell silent.
The spirit gave a quite sigh as he felt the warm presence of his hikari fading. How he hated being left alone.

The gaming convention was drawing to a close, and the crowds were beginning to thin out as all but the serious gamers started leaving. The demonstrations and amateur competitions were over; some of the stalls were already empty, their owners having already gone home for the night. In one corner of the huge convention center, however, things were still as excited as ever.
"Come on, Matt! You can beat this punk! No porcupine-headed duelist is gonna out-duel you!"
Yugi couldn't help but grin at that. His opponent was easily three times his size, a great deal older than he, and had a pinched, nasty look to his face, but he played honestly, and Yugi was enjoying the duel. Even if it was far too easy. He laid one of his more common traps on the field and set a weak monster in attack mode, fully expecting black-haired Matt to sniff out his trap; no such luck.
"Yeah! You go, Yug! Whoop this guy!"
"Good move, Yugi!"
The younger duelist had to fight down the flush of embarassment rising in his cheeks. It was great that his friends were there to support him, but still...it was a little unfair. Here he was, King of Games, with his entire cheering squad behind him while his less-than-brilliant opponent had only one friend.
But wait...that glint in Matt's eye could mean nothing good, could it? A mental eep!, followed by a mental head banging against a mental wall, accompanied by a fluent string of mental curses. The activation of his trap had somehow set off Matt's own trap, nearly halving Yugi's life points.
"Looks like the little guy isn't so tough after all," Matt sneered. He was now 400 life points ahead of Yugi.
The smaller duelist frowned and drew a card, adding it to his already-powerful hand. He held an entire arsenal of deadly monsters, not to mention a few handy magic and trap cards; he could have ended the duel at any time. But he was just having too much fun! It wasn't often that he had the chance to duel a new opponent just for the heck of it, after all - usually someone's life was on the line. It was something of a new experience for him.
"Aw, come on, Yug! Crush this upstart! No one beats the King of Games this easily!" Joey pumped his fist in the air, blonde hair shimmering under the intensely bright lights. Yugi winced. He hadn't told Matt his title, and hadn't planned on doing so.
Matt's friend froze in the middle of his cheer, eyeing Yugi nervously. "Hey Matt," he started, "maybe you should just forfeit this...I mean, if he's the King of Games - "
But Matt just grinned. "If he's really the King of Games, then there's no way in the world I'm backing out now," he said, playing a frighteningly strong monster and backing it up with what Yugi feared was a trap. "Not when I've got him on the run!"
Yugi breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thank Ra he's a good opponent. "Then I guess you won't mind if I play...this!" The tiny hologram projector whirred to life as he slapped down his own monster and trap.
Ah, yes. Now things would get interesting.

Joey glanced at his watch and sweatdropped. "Hey, Tristan," he mumbled into his friend's ear, "you realize this duel has been going for an hour now?"
"Yes, I realized that! I had three cokes before we came here, do you really think I hadn't noticed?!"
Joey sweatdropped a little more.
But the poor brunette's agony was almost over; a faintly pharaonic smirk crossed Yugi's lips, and he set a final card on the field. Matt groaned as his life points fell to zero. Sitting dejectedly off to the side, his friend cursed and stalked off. The black-haired duelist just raised an eyebrow at his retreating back.
"Hey, great duel, man," he said, shaking Yugi's hand. "Even if I did lose, at least I know I held my own against the King of Games, right?"
"You did great! I've had some pretty tough duels, but this was probably the most fun of all of them," Yugi replied.
Matt grinned back. "Hey, thanks. Look, I've gotta go find my buddy before he does something stupid, but I'll catch ya later, all right?"
"See you later, Matt!" Yugi waved as the black-haired young man disappeared into what remained of the crowd. Then, suddenly, he shivered.
"What's wrong, bud?" Joey asked, frowning. "You okay?"
Yugi nodded. "Yeah, I'm just cold," he replied. But still... Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a nagging feeling that something was wrong, and he just couldn't shake it.
"I am sooooo out of here!" Tristan yelled, running towards the restrooms. "Be right back!" Yugi raised an eyebrow.
"What's with him?"
"Heh heh heh...he drank Coke," the blonde chuckled. "And you know what that does to him."
Yugi buried his face in his hands. "...that would be qualified as way too much information, Joey..." He shivered again, and pulled his jacket closer around his shoulders. It was strange; the room wasn't that cold, there was no reason he should be shivering... He frowned slightly.
Anzu looked worried, too. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.
"Yes! Yes, I'm fine, really."
"Well, okay...you just don't look so fine," she said.
Joey grinned and grabbed his friend's arm. "I know what the problem is! When was the last time you ate?"
Yugi hesitated. "This morning," he lied. More like three days ago...a sandwich... But Joey doesn't have to know that. He'd not been eating well for a few weeks, ever since the Spirit of the Puzzle started acting strangely. He was quieter than usual these days, and very short-tempered. Sometimes Yugi found it hard to believe he'd once been the Pharaoh.
He blinked, suddenly understanding. "The spirit!" He took off towards the exit, leaving his bewildered friends staring blankly at his fast-retreating back.

"...the hell were you thinking?!"
The woman's reply was high, panicky and grief-stricken. "I don't know - I wasn't - I just - he - I can't believe I hit him!"
"Yeah, I bet you weren't," Joey snapped, glowering at her. "This is a fucking residential area! You don't run seventy in these streets, dammit!"
"Joey, cut it out," Téa said tearfully. "I'm sure the poor lady feels just terrible. It's Yugi we should be thinking about."
The rage in the blonde's eyes faded, leaving room only for an all-encompassing worry. The little guy had been running across a deserted street, focused only on reaching the game shop half a block away; then the truck had ripped around the corner. It had slammed into his frail body at seventy miles per hour and sent him flying. Now he was deathly still, crumpled on the pavement.
"Téa, give me your cell phone," Tristan said, holding out his hand. There's no way I'm letting her make this call. Please...please, little buddy, just be okay...
Only minutes later they heard sirens screaming towards them. Yugi still hadn't moved. Té was crying openly; the woman was paralyzed with shock; Tristan and Joey were both kneeling by their friend's body, holding back tears and trying everything they could think of to help him. It was a relief when the ambulance finally showed up. There were a few moments of frantic activity, police officers and EMTs firing questions in every direction with no attention as to who answered, and then they were gone, rushing to the nearest hospital. Joey was allowed to ride with the injured duelist, as he was the closest and knew the most about him. Within minutes, the street was calm again.
"I hope he's all right," the aspiring dancer sobbed. Tristan hesitated, then pulled her into a hug.
"He will be," he murmured. "He will be. He always is... Don't worry, he'll be - "
"What happened here?!"
The two brunettes spun simultaneously, surprised by the sudden arrival of the newcomer. It was Kaiba. He was panting, out of breath from sprinting who knows how many blocks from KaibaCorp., but his eyes were wide.
"I heard the sirens and came to see if I could hel - what? Gardener? Taylor? What are you two doing here? What's going on?"
Téa looked up at him with shimmering eyes. "It's Yugi," she whispered brokenly. "He was hit...by a car..."
The young CEO seemed to freeze. His eyes narrowed. "He what?"
"He's in the ambulance with Joey," Tristan added, his voice slightly more controlled than his friend's. "We...we don't know if he'll make it."
Kaiba was already slipping into his 'I'm a CEO, I have to fix it' mode, one hand reaching into his pocket for his cell phone while the other triggered the tiny radio in his collar. "Does Mouto know? The elder, that is?"
Tristan shook his head. "No...we sent Téa's cell phone with Joey..."
"Ah. I - Kaiba speaking. I need a ride. ...yes, I'm on foot. One block north of the Kame Game Shop. Be here in ten minutes." Clicking the radio back off, he tossed Tristan his cell phone. "Call Mouto. Tell him to be outside the center in fifteen minutes - he is at the convention, is he not?"
"Yeah," Tristan replied, catching the phone with a surprised look. "Yeah...how'd you know?"
"Lucky guess."

-----------------------------

[A/N] Heh heh heh...okay, so I lied. There will be a sequel. ...Some day.

Random Quote of the Day:
Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped.
- Elbert Hubbard

Part I: Moving Stinks
Crash.
"...OWW!! Ow ow ow ow ow..." The raven-haired girl hopped on one foot, making an heroic but unsuccessful attempt to remain vertical while massaging her other toe. She turned a baleful glare on the offending box. "Stupid china," she spat.
Kagome stopped to think about those words. Her face paled noticeably as she bent down and hesitantly lifted the cardboard box. A subdued rattle confirmed her suspicions, and she set it back down with less than considerable gentleness.
"Shimattta..."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"So, how's everything going so far?"
Kagome sighed. "I think my mom is going to kill me. That, or ban me from coming within ten feet of anything breakable. I dropped two boxes of her china, and another one with framed pictures."
She could almost hear Sango wincing on the other end of the line. "Ouch. Hint for the wise: Run. Fast."
"Feh. I'm not running."
"Brave words."
"I'm stealing the car. That way I'm moving at ninety, and she can't follow me."
Sango chuckled. "Good luck with that one, my friend. Seriously though, how do you like it so far? I mean, America's supposed to be the best country around - is it?"
"It's...okay, I guess," Kagome said with a small sigh. "I mean, I've only been here a few hours, and Galveston certainly isn't the center of the country, so I really don't know, but it's...well, intimidating. I know I'm fluent in English and all, but there's a difference between understanding what people say and knowing what they mean. You know?"
"Eh...no, not really, but I'll just go with it."
Kagome rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious, Sango! Everything here is just so strange. It's all mixed signals and broken traffic lights. I already miss home."
"Don't worry about it, Kagome," Sango assured her. "You'll get used to it. And everyone'll call you all the time. And as soon as you get the computer set up we can e-mail each other, too, and you can send us pictures of all your American friends."
"Yeah, I guess," Kagome said.
"Look, I've got to go before Miroku kills me - I'm on his cell phone, and you know how he is about his minutes. Sayonara."
"Sayonara, Sango," Kagome replied, and then the line went dead. She sighed again.
"Kagome?"
"Yes?"
Her mother's head appeared around the door, and she glanced at the room appraisingly. "You've certainly moved fast," she said, looking at the already unpacked boxes.
"I didn't feel like waiting until tomorrow," Kagome said, shrugging. Besides, it was dirty. I hate dirty.
"Anyway, Souta and I were thinking of going out for dinner, since we still haven't unearthed the kitchen stuff... Do you want to come?"
"Do I have a choice?" Kagome muttered under her breath. Then, more loudly, "Sure. Just let me grab my jacket, and change into something a little less...ah...dusty."
"Come to the living room when you're ready," her mom said, closing the door.
Kagome glanced at her current outfit and scowled. It was American-style jeans and a t-shirt, which she didn't mind, but it was dirty from her long day of carrying boxes back and forth. That she did mind. Rummaging through her semi-organized dresser, she found a pair of plain black slacks and comfortable light-blue blouse, thin but warm. It had been a gift from her one-time boyfriend Sesshoumaru. They had just gotten back together when her mom told her they were leaving the country; in order to make the departure a little less painful they had mutually agreed to break up.
Kagome slammed the door on that train of thought and snagged her sweater from the doorknob, brushing her hair out of her face as she walked to the living room.
Dinner was an akward affair. In a moment of extreme hyperness (and cuteness) Souta had managed to persuade their mother to take them to a local Mexican restaurant called Salsa's, so in addition to being uncomfortable with the American way of doing things they had to order from a menu that for the most part they couldn't read.
"What's a 'case-a-dila'?" Souta asked, peering at his menu.
"I think it's...um...it's..."
"The description is right under the title," Kagome said, sweatdropping.
"But I can't read it!"
Kagome sighed. It was going to be a long night...
"Please, Kagome? Tell me?"
"Look, they have hamburgers," her mom said, pointing to something on the back of the menu. "How about one of those, Souta?"
"All right! I love hamburgers!" The young boy's face lit up with a beaming smile, and he fairly bounced in his seat.
"What are you having, mother?"
The older woman glanced over the menu, brow furrowing in concentration. She was much less adept with the language than Kagome, and it didn't help that fully half of the text was in Spanish. "I think I'll try one of these," she said, pointing at something on the menu. Kagome leaned over to see, and promptly facevaulted.
"...That's a drink, mother."
"But it says right here - "
"Look up. It says 'Beverages'. Just trust me, it's a drink."
"...oh....then how about one of these?"
"That's an appetizer."
"Oh, you're right...well, how about this? An...how do you say...inch-a-lada?"
Kagome gave a small sigh of relief. Finally, something real... "Sounds good. I'm having a chimichanga, with a coke."
"Coke?"
Oh yes, it would be a long night indeed...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Part II: Life Goes On
Kagome sighed and threw herself backwards onto her bed. Since they'd arrived near the beginning of the summer vacation, she and Souta really hadn't been able to meet that many people; as a result she'd been babysitting him all summer. This meant she had to chase him around in the hundred degree weather.
"I hate summer," she moaned, wiping sweat off her forehead. Even in the air-conditioned house the heat was almost unbearable. "I don't know how these people can stand it..."
"Hey, Kagome," Souta said as he popped his head around the door. "I want to go to that museum place."
"We've been to Moody Gardens a thousand times this week!" Kagome protested. "You know that place like the back of your hand. Why do you want to go again?"
"Because it's fun!" her little brother replied with a bright grin. "Besides, it's cool, and there are people there. Come on, you don't have to come all the way with me - I'll go to the aquarium, and you can sit in the lobby like usual. Please?"
"No."
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?"
"No."
"Pretty please? With a Hershey's bar on top?" He looked up at her with pleading eyes, and she hesitated.
Don't fall for the kiddie eyes, she berated herself. Be strong...don't give in...be strong...
"Oh, all right," she sighed. "Go ask mother for some money and we'll go."
"Yippee!" The short boy nearly danced down the hall to their mother's room.
Curse the eyes, Kagome thought darkly.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Well, at least it's not hot, Kagome told herself reluctantly as she took a seat in the public seating section of the Moody Gardens main building. Souta had already run off; he was absolutely in love with the aquarium, and knew that it was pointless to try to get his sister to accompany him. The curved glass gave her headaches anyway. She was happier just sitting down and watching the other tourists.
One in particular caught her eye. He was a tiny boy with extremely busky hair; if they'd stood back-to-back he would have barely reached her waist. She recognized him from the last few times she'd been here. He was always running around, almost bouncing off the walls, but today he seemed sullen. He was sitting on the raised ledge by the theater entrance with his back turned to her. It took her a while to realize he was crying.
"That's strange," she said to no one in particular. Snagging her purse in one hand and tying her sweater haphazardly around her waist, she got up and walked over to the kid. "Hey, are you all right?"
He looked up, fear in his eyes. "Yeah...yeah, 'm fine," he muttered. He stood up and made as if to leave.
"Wait, don't go," Kagome blurted. "What's wrong? You were crying."
"It's...it's nothing."
"Come on, tell me," she coaxed. "I promise I don't bite."
He looked up at her again, as if weighing his options. After a moment's hesitation he shook his head and said, "I told you, it's nothing. Besides, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." He turned and nearly ran off down the hallway, heading to the side exit.
"Don't worry about him," an elderly woman said, coming to stand next to Kagome. "He's the manager's friend's son, so we see him a lot here. He just gets moody. Best to let him be; in another day or two he'll be back to his normal hyper self."
"Are you sure?"
The woman nodded. "You bet I am. I've known him since he was born, he's always been like this. I'm Kaede, by the way."
"My name's Kagome," the younger girl said, holding out her hand. The woman looked at her quizically for a moment, and Kagome blushed as she realized her mistake. She switched to her right hand. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'm new to America. I'm not quite used to your customs yet."
"It's okay," Kaede said with a laugh, "there are plenty of native-born Americans who haven't figured it out either. You're what, Chinese?"
"Japanese, actually."
"My mistake. I should have known, I have Japanese friend on the mainland. It's too bad you weren't here a month or two ago. There was a very nice display of Oriental dolls here, I think you would have enjoyed it. Say, are you hungry?"
"Er, not really," Kagome said. "I ate before I came. Why?"
"Then do you mind if I get something to eat, and we sit down and talk? All this standing around is a killer to an old lady like me." Kaede flashed a brilliant smile, and Kagome couldn't help but return it.
"Sure, why not?"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The rest of the day passed quite quickly. Kaede turned out to be quite fun, and as she's all but grown up on the island she was able to tell Kagome quite a bit about the less well-known attractions. She even knew a few words of Japanese that she'd picked up from her "mainlander friend." (She referred to everyone from off the island as mainlanders, but the way she said it never sounded at all deragatory.) She also knew a fair bit of Spanish, and she was teaching Kagome a handful of common words when Souta ran up.
"Hey Kagome!"
The raven-haired girl turned and waved to her brother, motioning for him to come over. "This is my little brother Souta," she said in introduction. "Souta, meet my new friend Kaede."
Souta eyed the white-haired woman suspiciously. "She's old," he finally said. Kagome turned an interesting shade of pink and hurried to apologize, but Kaede just laughed.
"Well, at least he's observant," she said, still chuckling. "But watch what you say, kid. If you weren't so cute I'd have to yell at you." Souta favored her with an embarassed half-smile, and Kaede ruffled his hair.
"We should go, it's getting late," Kagome said, picking up her purse. "Ms. Kaede, thank you for such an enjoyable afternoon."
"And thank you for listening to an old woman's rambling," Kaede said, also standing. "I'm here fairly often, so if you ever want a chat just stop by."
"I'll be sure to do that," Kagome promised. "Come on, Souta, time to go home."
"Awwww..."
"Mother said she's making real dinner tonight, rather than ramen..."
Souta's face lit up. "No more ramen? Real food? All right, let's go!" He sprinted to the door, leaving Kagome to stare openmouthed at where he'd been just a second before.
"He is never, never, never allowed to meet that other little kid," she vowed.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Part III:
Was it so much to ask? Really, was it?
Apparently it was.
Kagome let out a long sigh and swiped uselessly at the sweat that had long ago broken out on her forehead. All she wanted was a bit of air conditioning. That was all! But no, their tiny air conditioner had to overheat and die just as the hottest week so far began. One hundred and two degrees in the shade and not a cool breeze for a hundred miles. And according to the weatherman, it was only supposed to get worse.
She couldn't imagine how that would be possible. She'd never been so hot in her life. She'd actually had to stay outdoors during the day because it was a few degrees cooler. Of course, she hadn't realized just how bright the sun was; her SPF30 sunscreen hadn't lasted minutes, and her shoulders were now a brilliant shade of pink.
Which just made her day.
Even Souta was feeling the heat. He'd picked up a lot of English in their few months in Galveston, and had made a few friends, nearly all of which had backyard pools; needless to say, he'd been spending a lot of time there.

-----------------------------

[A/N] Don't ask. Jimmy Buffet songs plus Yu-Gi-Oh fanfics plus sugar equals badness. (Where'd the Inuyasha part come from, you ask? The plot bunnies. Random electrical impulses in my brain. The square root of Yu-Gi-Oh!. I don't know.) Partly done because I want to try writing my hometown from someone else's PoV (practice for an HP fic I'm working on), partly because I've wanted to do a Buffet songfic for a long time... If it becomes a songfic, I'll include the titles and link to the lyrics. I know Love in the Library will be in there, since that's the song that inspired the whole shebang, but other than that it'll probably be completely random. We'll see.

Random Quote of the Day:
"Sit, boy!"
- Kagome, from Inuyasha

Some people pay thousands of dollars

for a little piece of carbon,

all because it catches the light and sparkles.

Some people spend their lives

underground in the black dirt and ancient rock

chipping away at the walls, just to uncover the miniscule chips

of earth-bound starlight.

But I...

I sit on my dock and swing my feet in the water,

and instantly I am rich, wealthier than the greatest tycoon,

and the air is filled with the worlds greatest diamonds.

Not just clear, either.

They are the green of the sea,

the blue of the sky,

and when they fall before the sun they are red,

the bleeding red of sunset,

and the sun itself is captured in the crystalline drops.

Let them have their carbon,

let them have their diamond rings and bracelets,

let them shove rods of steel and aluminum and silver through their ears.

Leave me my murky water,

leave me my salt and my seaweed and my oystershells,

leave me my bare feet, calloused as they are,

leave me my unadorned fingers and toes and wrists and ankles.

For I make my diamonds.


-----------------------------

[A/N] Inspired by something a friend said she had to write for her English class. She had to write about bubbles or something similar...shiny, sparkly, pretty, all that kinda stuff. So of course I thought of Galveston Bay: salty, murky, gross, sandy, smelly, polluted, the whole nine yards. I couldn't resist ^_^

Random Quote of the Day:
"Coffee's not supposed to be - "
"Boiled? I know, William. I know."
- First Lieutenant Busch to Captain Hornblower of the Hotspur

Virg,
I'm not going to be able to make it to the game this weekend. Or to the one next weekend, or the one after. Something's come up, and I can't stick around any longer. There's a box on the counter in my workstation. It's yours. Sorry I can't give you the other JSD tape; I lent it to a friend, and it was still in his VCR when he threw it out a window. (Shattered a coffee cup on top of it, too - a full one.) Watch it with someone that'll do you good. A good voice recording ought to do.
I really wish I didn't have to leave things like this. Don't try to contact me, it'll just get you in trouble. Take care of yourself.
I guess this is goodbye,
Richie

-----------------------------

[A/N] ...yeah... Woke up with this scene in my head (Virgil sitting at his desk, the letter in one hand and a plastic baggie with some papers, a pen or something, and an audio tape in the other, and Gear's voice reading the letter out loud), and had to get it down. If I ever continue it, it'll be Richie disappearing somewhere for like a year, and then Virg'll get some bizarre vision or something; it'll turn out that Rich had to go help this evil corporation or else the head honcho would kill Virg and his family or some overused crap like that. But since I don't watch the show all that often, and I really don't care, it'll probably never happen. We'll see. I still don't know why I was dreaming about that show, by the way.

Random Quote:
"You're not Gollum, you're Frodo."
"Why?"
"Because I'm Sam."
- MikKreeno (aka Kreeno and Mikoto)

Sophie Taks sighed and placed her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands and shaking it slowly. After a moment she looked back up and glared balefully at the piece of music on the stand in front of her. She raised her flute to her lips and began to play; four bars in her mind wandered back to the math test she'd failed earlier in the week, and her fingers hesitated just long enough to throw the entire melody out of rythym. She growled and put the flute back in her lap. She turned an evil eye on the offending papers. The music wasn't complicated, per se, but it wasn't intuitive, and so she had to concentrate in order to play it properly.
That being the problem.
"Why," she groaned to herself. "Why, why, why... I can't finish my art project on time, the computer dies in the middle of writing my report, I fail two tests in one week, and I can't learn my solo...aghhh!" The only thing that saved the flute from a sudden introduction to the far wall was the sound of footsteps on the bare floor behind her.
"Sophie? Time to go," her mom's voice said.
The brunette looked up, a confused look on her face. "Go? Go where?"
"The session's tonight, remember?" Sophie repressed a sigh. Great. Just what I need. To make myself look like a fool in front of people I don't even know...
"I guess it's too late to cancel, isn't it," she said wearily. "All right, just let me grab my wooden flute, and my shoes..."
The drive to the session was short, but it seemed to drag on into eternity. Sophie's hands were sweating; her flute's corduroy-like casing was already damp. When they arrived she felt more like she was walking to a court than to a friendly session.
Of course, the first few tunes did nothing to alleviate that feeling. Her and her mom's flutes were terribly out of tune; her fingers and forearms were already tired from playing her other flute earlier in the afternoon; on the rare occasion that she could remember the tune her fingers always missed their places, and every note she played sounded strangled and forced. Several times she could have sworn she'd seen the violinist wince.
"What's up next?" the tin whistle player asked when Foxhunter's Reel finally faded to a less-than-pleasant end.
The guitarist flipped through his sheet music, hunting for one they all more or less knew. "What about Star of Munster?" he asked. Sophie's heart sank; she'd never even heard the name before. Nevertheless she raised her flute and waited for someone to start. She could at least try to pick up a few notes here and there.
The tin whistle was the first to play. The whistle's high shriek quickly spiraled down to less piercing notes, and the other instruments quickly jumped in. Halfway through the first bar old memories of other, more professional sessions began to arouse themselves in Sophie's memory, and her fingers began to move of their own accord. The guitar strummed; the violin sang; the bodhran gave its customary deep-throated but quiet roar; the whistle skirled around her feet; the other flute leaped from note to airy note, and her own low powerful tone followed the melody, straight and true. The flautist's mind was wonderfully empty. Her fingers danced across the wooden tube on their own, while the few thoughts that dared pass through her head wrapped themselves around the simlicity of it all.
The fiddler's bow slipped, and the resulting squeal sent him into a fit of laughter. The small symphony fell apart, but still Sophie played, unwilling to just let the tune die; by the time she brought it to a close everyone had rejoined, and the melody swept along to a final note worthy of the Chieftans themselves.
There was a short moment of silence, and the tin whistle player groaned. "No! I didn't get that on tape..."

The next morning rolled around all too quickly, and Sophie bit back a fluent stream of foul language when she found out she had a pop quiz in her chemistry class. The mintutes ticked away; she put her pencil down in exasperation, unable to remember even one of the answers. She put her head on her desk and let her hair fall around her face in a sort of dark curtain.
She had barely closed her eyes with the half-formed intention of sleeping through the rest of the test when Star of Munster suddenly started running through her head. For half an instant she could almost hear it; then it faded, leaving behind only a miraculously quiet, intensely concentrated mind. She glanced over the test again, absentmindedly picking up her pencil as she did so. As she read off the questions, the answers appeared in her mind's eye one by one. Tiny details she'd long since forgotten rose up and slapped her across the face, and her hand seemed to be moving of its own violition, inscribing answers she almost didn't understand. She scribbled in the last one just as the bell rang.
Her next two classes passed quickly; by bringing her mind back to the tranquil state it had been in at the session the previous night, she found, she could more or less quell the random thoughts that so often distracted her, and with them gone her work didn't seem so daunting. Band was the last period of the day, and it was with a rising sense of nervousness that she pulled out her solo to practice. Her fingers felt strangely sluggish at first, but when she lifted her eyes from the paper and just let her fingers do the walking they took on a life of their own.
"Hey, Sophie," her friend said, leaning over and pointing to a particularly difficult section, "could you play that part again, more slowly? I can't get it right." Sophie grinned and raised her flute again, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander as her fingers followed the now well-known pattern.

-----------------------------

[A/N] Okay, okay, so this isn't the best thing I've ever written. ...all right, fine. It sucks. In a big way. What can I say? I wrote it for the benchmark essay. (Ended up doing something completely different on the actual test, but whatever.) It's based fairly heavily on me when I'm depressed; the character was stolen from something else I'm working on. (Yet another thing that will never be finished, I'm sure.) But this is a one-shot, so celebrate!

Random Quote:
"I must remember to honor the power of the Off Switch!"
- Omi, from Xiaolin Showdown

Yugi Mouto was a good kid. He was one of those students every teacher likes: hardworking, intellegent, and honest. Even if he wasn't the greatest in the class, he certainly gave the most effort.
It wasn't just teachers that liked him, either. He was popular with the students, as well. Those big innocent eyes of his marked him as a good person and better friend, and his ever-present grin did nothing to dissuay this opinion.
Which didn't explain why he currently had a rather malicious look on his young face, or why a rather extensive setup in the back corner of the men's restrooms was beginning to smoke.
"Time to go," he muttered to himself as the first wick caught flame. He snagged his bag from the counter and exited casually, heading toward the cafeteria.
BOOM!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Yug!" Joey shouted, running up to his friend. "What's going on, man? I heard there was an explosion by the cafeteria!"
"I don't know," Yugi said, shaking his head. "I had another black-out - I don't remember anything."
"You don't sound too good. You all right?"
"I'm...I'm fine, Joey," Yugi said, forcing a small smile. It quickly mutated to a frown; the look didn't fit him. "I'm just worried. I mean, every time I have one of my spells, something bad happens. It can't be just a coincidence."
The blonde shook his head forcefully. "Nah, man. There's nothing to it. You're just jumping to conclusions."
Yugi rounded on his friend suddenly. "Am I? Am I really? Then tell me why every time I black out, something happens - and I'm usually about ten feet away from the thick of it!" His voice was angry, and confused, and scared.
"Geez, Yugi, what's gotten you so spun up today? Calm down, buddy."
"They haven't told anyone," Yugi said flatly. "But I overheard the teachers talking about it. There was a student in there, Joey," he said, and now his voice was haunted. "In the bathroom. In the stall right next to the explosion. He...he may not make it."
"....oh. Man. Man, that's bad. That's really bad. Who could do that? Who would knowingly set a fire in an occupied bathroom?" Joey was outraged, his hands clenching into tight fists at his side. Yugi left him to his anger and slunk away silently.
How can I tell him? he asked himself silently. He wouldn't understand; he wouldn't believe me. But it's true. I'm the one doing all this. The fire last week, and the broken waterlines the week before, and the heat the week before that... I don't remember any of it. Just black, and then suddenly I'm walking away from whatever happened...it's got to be me, there's just no other way! He shook his head sadly; he knew what he had to do, and how badly it would hurt his friends and grandfather to learn the truth.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Mr. Mouto? This is Joey." The Brooklyn boy's voice was somewhat shaky. "Have you seen Yugi in the last fifteen minutes?"
"Of course I haven't," Sugoroku snapped, "you know as well as I do where he is."
"That's just it, Mr. Mouto," Joey said. Even more shaky now. He was skating on thin ice here. "You...may want to turn on your television for a second."
There was a quiet click as the game store owner pressed the power button, and the screen came to live.
'...news, repeat, breaking news: Yugi Mouto, the freshman who turned himself in as the troublemaker who has been causing such a ruckus at Domino City High these past few weeks, has escaped. Witnesses say that he was very calm, sad even, right up until the time officials tried to put him in handcuffs; here is the footage of the scene." A short pause, and then the sounds of a fight as a poorly focused camera caught glimpses of uniformed officers and a few flashed of tri-colored hair. "He escaped, leaving three officers badly wounded. There is a good possibility that he is armed and dangerous. We suggest that all citizens keep an eye out for this young delinquent, and report any sightings of him to the police. Now we move live to Cindy, who is currently in an interview with the Domino City High principal..."
"Mr, Mouto?" Joey asked quietly, calm now. "Have you seen Yugi?"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Two weeks, and no sign of the young duelist appeared. It seemed he had just vanished from the face of the earth.
"Where d'you suppose he could have gone?" Ryou Bakura asked in his soft accented voice. "It's not like Yugi to just up and disappear like this."
"Yeah, well," Joey snorted, "it's not like him to blow up the school or try to kill three guys, either, and he did that easily enough. I think we underestimated the little guy."
"You don't really think he's behind all this, do you?"
Joey shook his head with a sigh. "I don't know, Tea, I really don't. I mean, this is all so unlike Yugi, but then again he was acting so strange...always tired, short-tempered even. And those blackouts. He told me right before he turned himself in that he was always out right when something happened."
"I hope he's all right, regardness," Ryou murmured.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Yugi awoke with a start, only to find himself lying on his face in the middle of some deserted forest and feeling rather beaten. It was as though every inch of his body was bruised.
"What...where the hell am I?" Under normal circumstances he never cursed, but then this wasn't exactly a normal circumstance. Rolling over, he brought his watch up to his face and read the date. It was the twenty-ninth. If he remembered correctly, it should have been the thirteenth. What the hell?
"Hikari has finally awakened," a voice came, deep and dark and angry. Yugi jumped.
"Who are you?" he exclaimed. "And why am I all bruised?"
A fairly short (but rather tall, in relation to Yugi) firuge emerged from the trees. Yugi gasped; other than the height difference, it could have been his twin. "I am the hikari's dark," the figure said simply. "The hikari would not wake, so I hit him." Yugi suddenly realized that this other person was much larger and much stronger than he was, and that they had a rather disconcerting gleam in their eye. Not to mention the complete and total advantage over him, should it come down to violence. He decided to tread cautiously.
"And...where are we?"
"Hikari asks many questions."
"Well, I don't know much. I have to ask."
The taller figure sneered. "Hikari is stupid. Hikari is weak and frail. How does hikari live so long?"
"I resent that! Just because I've apparently been unconscious for over two weeks and thus have no idea of what's going on gives you no right to - aah!" His words were suddenly cut off as the other figure's fist found his stomach.
"Hikari talks too much."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"You're being awfully quiet, Yami," Ryou said, glancing at his dark in concern. Are you worried about something?"
Bakura's distant gaze found its way slowly back to Ryou's pale face. "It's Yugi," he said reluctantly. "He's been gone three, almost four weeks now."
"The authorities are doing everything they can. It's just a matter of time before he turns up."
"It's not that," the Egyptian spirit said with a sigh. "I've just got a bad feeling about this whole situation. He was acting strangely ever since he solved that Millennium Puzzle...I don't know, there's just something nagging at the corner of my mind, something I should see but don't."
"If a Tomb Robber has a bad feeling about something, that's not usually a good sign," Ryou said.
"I never told you this," Bakura said slowly, "but I'm not the only soul who was sealed inside an Item. The Pharaoh was, too. Problem is, no one really knows which Item he ended up in - there wasn't really a way to control it, it just kind of happened."
"So you think maybe the Pharaoh is in the Puzzle, and now that Yugi solved it he's become Yugi's yami?"
"Right. And...well, to put it frankly, Pharaoh-sama wasn't exactly the most stable of people. He could be violent."
Ryou gasped. "Yugi could be in danger!"
Bakura nodded. "Exactly. And if he falls to the power of the former Pharaoh, more lives than his could be at stake."
"We have to do something, Yami!"
Bakura sighed. "There's one problem with that. The Pharaoh...he and I were - are - mortal enemies. He is more powerful than I am; if he were to see me, he would kill me instantly. I'd do nothing but waste my life, and yours in the process."
Silence.
"Then I'll go."
Bakura jumped to his feet. "What? Are you crazy? You could be my twin, he'd kill you on first sight! You can't possibly - "
"I have to help Yugi," Ryou called over his shoulder as he disappeared through the door and down the hall. Bakura gave chase, but holding his physical form was tiring, and he fell behind rapidly. In a last-second burst of energy he threw himself into the Ring and fell, drained, to the floor of his soul-room.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Unh..."
"Hikari should not speak so loudly," the dark spirit (Yugi had finally begun to piece together what was going on, and had come to the rather painful conclusion that this person was indeed his "dark," or his yami, and therefore another ancient Egyptian spirit) said, wiping Yugi's blood from his fist. "Hikari is mine; hikari will do what I say, and nothing else."
"Don't you understand? I need to go back! My grampa - "
"Hikari will speak only when I say!" the spirit roared, fixing Yugi with a hateful glare. The young duelist cringed, expecting another blow, but was gratified when it never came. Instead, it was a very familiar voice that he hadn't thought he'd ever heard again that floated through the air.
"Leave him, Pharaoh!" Bakura shouted. "Your quarrel is not with the young one. Leave hiim be."
"R...Ryou? Is that you?" Yugi's speech was somewhat slurred due to his split lip and swollen jaw. The dark spirit had been rather brutal in his "lessons."
Said spirit's eyes narrowed with hatred. "Tomb Robber," he hissed. He took a step closer to Yugi, and the teen couldn't decide if it was a threatening or protective glint that suddenly appeared in his eye.
"I said, leave him alone."
"Hikari is mine!" He grabbed Yugi by the hair and hauled him to aching feet; Yugi gritted his teeth.
Bakura stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury. "He is a person, Pharaoh! Not property, not a slave - a hikari. A part of your very soul. You cannot hurt him further!"
"Tomb Robber cannot tell the Pharaoh what not to do!" the dark spirit roared. Fpr emphasis, he dug long nails into Yugi's shoulder, who gave a quiet exclamation of pain and fell to his knees. "Tomb Robber is nothing!"
Enraged by the former Pharoah's abuse of his young reincarnation, Bakura let loose a deadly blast of Shadow energy. It glowed around the Pharaoh for an instant, then shimmered into nothingness as he absorbed it all. Bakura cried out in agony as the Pharaoh returned the favor.
"Ryou!" A shadow passed over Yugi's face as his friend crumpled to the ground. "No! No..."
"Hikari does not care for the Tomb Robber," the dark spirit snapped, but somehow his voice was not quite so hateful; somewhere deep inside, there was a hint of tenderness that slipped through and reached Yugi's ears. "The Pharaoh does not wish it."
"Then does Pharaoh wish to hurt hikari?" Yugi asked quietly, spitting out blood. "The Tomb Robber is my friend. I care about him. If you hurt him, you hurt the hikari."
The dark spirit looked confused. "Hikari does not hate the Tomb Robber?"
"No," Yugi said, shaking his head, "hikari doesn't hate anyone."
"Not...not even the dark?"
"Not even the dark."
Silence.
Yugi could tell the former Pharaoh - for that was obviously what he was, judging by his attitude and by Bakura's words - was turning things over in his mind. It took a few minutes for him to reach a conclusion.
"Then...hikari will forgive the dark for hurting him?"
Yugi gave a faint smile. "Of course."
Whoa, he thought. Are there supposed to be three of him?
"And for covering the hkari's light? For locking him away?"
Yugi nodded. This served the dual purpose of answering the dark spirit's question and multiplying the three figures into six.
Nope, he decided. Definitely not. Slowly, the spirit's glowing eyes and careful voice faded away into nothingness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"...out cold," someone said.
"Who wouldn't be? All but starved for four weeks, and treated like a slave on top of that - it's a wonder he's in as good shape as he is."
"He'll be fine," a British voice said. "Bakura's been talking to the Pharaoh. He's thought things over a bit and decided that maybe he doesn't hate Yugi quite as much as he thought - or so Bakura says. Personally, I think it was the death threats that changed his mind."
"If you harm so much as one hair on his head ever again, I swear to Ra I'll banish your soul back to the Shadow Realm where it belongs," Joey said in a fairly accurate imitation of the Tomb Robber.
Tired of listening to the conversation and not understanding any of it, Yugi cracked open his eyes and was rewarded with a brilliant light.
"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" he asked.

Several halls away, Bakura could have sworn he saw the former Pharaoh's ears prick up.
"The hikari," he said simply.
"Yes. Yugi is awake," Bakura confirmed through his link with Ryou. "And I think now would be a good time to explain things a bit, don't you?"
"Dark does not agree with anything the Tomb Robber says," was the flat reply.
Bakura raised an eyebrow and turned to leave. "Then you don't think the hikari is beautiful and perfect and yours, all yours and forever yours?"
A stuttering Pharaoh was left standing alone in the hall.

-----------------------------

[A/N] Yup. Yet another random one. I dunno, though, I had fun with this. I read a lot of Ryou-torture fics today, and got to thinking: What if Takahashi had made it the other way around? What if it was Pharaoh-sama, not Marik-sama, that went a little nuts? And you know the story from there... This is the end, though. I highly doubt I'll ever add anything else to this.

Random Quote:
The Hell Beast will be back. But right now, I need some sleep.
- Hiro (sp?), from Gundam Wing

"Yes?"
"Hi! I'm Krystell," the girl at the door said, extending her hand. "I'm here to pick up Sobia."
A grin broke over Sobia's dad's face, and he shook Krystell's offered hand. "It's nice to meet you, Krystell. Sobia's upstairs; she'll be down in a minute. Come on in." He stepped aside and gave a slight bow, the spitting image of courtesy.
"Thanks," Krystell grinned. She slipped past him and entered the living room, sneakers silent on the waxed tile floor. Flared bluejeans hid her ankles, and she wore a fitted shirt that hugged her sides and emphasized her height; long bangs swung down around her chin, while the rest of her dark hair was cut short. She stood almost six feet tall, and streamlined muscles made her look somehow like a modern Amazon warrior, but the gentleness in her eyes proved otherwise.
"I'll be down in a second," Sobia called, her head popping over the banister for a second before disappearing again. She was similiarly built, tall and thin and athletic, but where Krystell was dark and decieving she was all light and innocence. Her long blonde hair floated freely, and she wore khaki pants and a loose white halter top. A renegade ray of sunlight burst through the overhead window and spotlighted her for the briefest of seconds; she was an angel come to earth.
Sobia had been graced with the perfect face. Light and delicate, it had a mystical quality to it that made most guys stop and look twice or three times. It had been a joke throughout her early years in school that she would be the first girl to get a husband. Sadly, it wasn't to be; loving loyal Amanda had eloped in the ninth grade, and was now living with her equally young husband in New York.
Sobia was happy for them. How couldn't she be? They'd found true love, and hadn't even had to go through the usual hardship and suffering to get there. She knew they would stay together for a long time yet.
Yes, she was happy for them. But that didn't mean she had to understand it. For what most people didn't know about Sobia was that she didn't like guys. Sobia hadn't known it herself for a long time; she had always assumed she just hadn't met the right person yet, that her time hadn't come.
But when Krystell transferred in from some backwater school in the country, she knew. That first year they had all of their classes together, so they had plenty of time to talk; the entire summer was spent each other's company. They were inseperable. And just this past Valentine's Day Krystell had said something Sobia never thought she'd hear.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"You know, Sobia," Krystell said thoughtfully, biting into a sandwich, "today's the fourteenth."
"And?" It came out more like "mmmph," since Sobia currently had her own sandwich halfway into her mouth, but Krystell understood well enough.
Said girl was slowly turning an odd shade of red. "There's something you should probably know...about me," she mumbled. Her eyes were trained on the ground; she refused to meet Sobia's gaze. "I'm...er...I'm not straight."
Sobia raised an eyebrow and swallowed with some difficulty. "You're gay?"
Krystell gave a quick nod, almost too fast to see, and glanced almost fearfully into Sobia's face. It was obvious that she expected a look of disgust, even hatred; Sobia realized that she had made this confession before and suffered because of it.
Sobia grinned lopsidedly. "That's cool. What's it like?"
"You - you don't hate me?" Krystell stuttered.
"Why should I?"
"But I'm not normal! Everyone hates me when they find out."
"Well, I guess that just means I'm not everyone, then, now doesn't it?" Sobia asked. There was that lopsided grin again. "Seriously. What's it like?"
Krystell shrugged. "Not too different, I suspect," she said. "I mean, the only thing is you don' look at guys and think, 'Oh, he's hot,' you look at girls and say, 'Hm, not bad.'"
Sobia chortled. "Not bad? Is that all?"
The blood rose slightly in Krystell's cheeks. "Well, not always..."
A raised eyebrow.
"...I should go," Krystell said suddenly, standing. "I've got - er - math to do."
"Don't go." Krystell hesitated, turned.
"But Sobia, I can't...look, it's better for both of us if I go."
Now Sobia too climbed to her feet. "No," she said softly, "it's not. Stay. I want to talk."
"Sobia...."
The blonde was moving closer, closer, feet turning to inches turning to centimeters. Krystell felt the other's hot breath on her face.
"Don't go," Sobia whispered. Then the last few centimeters disappeared with all common sense as their lips met.
She was fire. She was ice. She was sugar and cinnamon and jalapeno and vanilla and chocolate all rolled into one intense burst of passion. Krystell's mind reeled; What's going on? Why is she doing this? She hates me, that's it, she hates me and wants to drive me away - but that doesn't make sense, if she hates me then why -
Sobia pulled away reluctantly, flushed and gasping for breath. There was a long silence as they stood there, cradled in each other's arms, each wrapped in her own confused thoughts. Krystell was the first to speak.
"Angel."
"My demon."

-----------------------------

[A/N] *sweatdrop* ...yeah. Right. This is why I'm not allowed to have sugar in the early hours of the morning, especially not when reading yaoi fanfics. If this is how I'm gonna end up witing 'em, I'm staying far, far away... Don't expect this to go anywhere. The only part I even slightly enjoyed was coming up with the outfits. That's sad.

Random Quote:
Keep true to the dreams of thy youth.
- Friedrich von Schiller

"Ow!"
"Misty, what's wrong?
"Nothing," the red-head replied. "Just stubbed my toe on that tree root."
"Watch your footing around here," Brock warned. "It's gotten better recently, but the path is really out of repair and this whole area is scattered with those pits Team Rocket always digs." Brock was tall, and his short brown hair stuck out in all directions. He had a square face that belied his playfullness.
"You sure you're all right?" Ash asked in concern, bending down. "You didn't sprain your ankle or anything?"
"I'm fine!" Misty insisted. "C'mon, let's go." She got up and brusked off her knees, running a hand through her hair to pull it back out of her face. The trio of friends set out again, accompanied as always by their assorted pokemon. Walking slightly slower than her companions, Misty soon found herself a f ew feet behind them.
Brock hadn't really changed much in the past five years, she noted. He was still the same hopeless romantic, splitting his time between watching out for his friends, asking every pretty girl he met to marry him, and realizing his dream of becoming a pokemon breeder. He already had something of a reputation.
Ash, on the other hand, was barely recognizeable. He had sprouted about a foot and a half, so that rather than being the shortest of the three he now towered above Brock. His hair was much the same, just longer. The cap he had worn for years was gone, and his silky black locks floated freely in the breeze. The jacket was gone, too. His arms were long and muscular, but streamlined. He had the body of a swimmer. The color, too; he had gone from a crystalline white to a deep bronze. He had become any girl's dream.
Well, almost. His eyes were no longer the wide orbs of innocence they had been; now they were narrowed, hard black diamonds that glittered suspiciously at the world. Around Brock and Misty he was the same as ever, cheerful and carefree and willing to do anything for anyone, but the instant anyone else came near he fell silent, keeping his gaze on the ground and refusing to meet anyone's eyes. His trademark competetive spirit was gone. He still traveled with his friends, but never in the last three years had he entered any sort of contest; he left that to Misty. (Brock entered on occasioon, but only rarely. He was not by nature a very competetive person.) Almost no one could understand this total transformation, Professor Oak and Ms. Ketchum herself included, but Misty and Brock knew.
He had been betrayed.
Around New Years three years previously, Misty and Brock had elected to spend a few weeks' vacation in a small, almost unheard-of village as a sort of vacation. Being the energetic dreamer he was, Ash took the opportunity to make journey to a small PokeCenter a few days' journey away; he had wanted to visit it for years, but they had never passed anywhere near it. Misty and Brock saw him off without concern. It was not unusual for him to run off on some side trip of his own while they rested. He seemed to have unlimited energy.
But when the week dragged on into two weeks, then two and a half, then three, and there was no word from Ash or the PokeCenter, they began to worry. So they set out after him.
He wasn't too hard to find. A few miles off the trail there was a rather large clearing, and the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. On the far side of the clearing lay Ash, surrounded by crushed Pokeballs, covered in bad burns, and nearly dead. An unconscious Bulbasaur was stretched out next to him, and they could see by the tracks in the muddy ground that it had dragged itself from the far side of the clearing. There were no other Pokemon to be found.
They carried their friend back to the village and turned him over to the local Nurse Joy, who didn't sound too optimistic. He was in a coma, his burns were bad enough on their own, and he had been two and a half weeks without food; his chances weren't good. Misty and Brock resigned themselves to the worst.
Then one night a week later, while Nurse Joy, Brock, and Misty were eating dinner in the only restaurant in the village, Ash disappeared. His clothes and backpack were gone, and several empty Pokeballs were found missing, as well. It took several hours for them to realize that Bulbasaur, too, had vanished.
A search was organized. Huge storms terrorized the region, making travel diffcult and long-distance communication impossible; Professor Oak and Ms. Ketchum had no way of knowing what was going on. For two weeks, search parties scoured the village and the surrounding forest, but in vain. Three weeks after his disappearance, the search parties were recalled, and he was proclaimed dead.
"With those burns, there's no way he could survive in fhe forset," Nurse Joy said. Her voice was cracked with grief.
The village mourned; they hadn't know him very well, but Ash was one of those people who was well-liked wherever he went. News of his death leaked out to nearby towns. Misty and Brock went back to Pallette Town to tell Ms. Ketchum and the Professor in person.
Then, one month and two days after his disappearance, Nurse Joy called the Ketchum residence. The house was empty; they were at the funeral. It wasn't until late that evening that they heard the recorded message. Ash was alive.
Midway through his journey to the PokeCenter, Team Rocket had made their usual appearance, "Surrender now" speech and all. The battle had been short and fierce, and as usual Ash won. But just before Pikashu's Thunderbolt could blast them sky-high, a very famiiar Pokemon had stepped forth. Charizard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Charizard!" Ash exclaimed, stunned but delighted. "What are you doing here?" After the Silver Conference, he and the flying fire-type had spent a lot of time together, and they had formed a deep bond that allowed them to commucate clearly. (He had the same kind of bond with Pikachu and several other of his pokemon.)
Charizard made no answer, just stood there and stared. Slowly, wide grins spread over Team Rocket's faces.
"Charizard? What's wrong, buddy?" Ash stepped forward, Pikachu back on his shoulder, and walked toward the winged dragon.
Said winged dragon responded with a furious Flamethrower that knocked Pikachu away and threw Ash to the far side of the clearing.
"Cha...Charizard, what...why?" Ash forced the pain away, ignoring the flames still licking at his clothes, and stumbled forward again. He didn't make it far.
"Today, you see," Jessie said with a smirk on her face as Ash crashed into a tree and landed heavily on the ground, breathless, "we have no intentions of losing. And Charizard here is going to help us with that. Charizard, take down that Pikachu!"
Ash's memory of the next few minutes was fogged; all he could remember was fire and lightning, and pain. Bulbasaur had somehow getten out of his Pokeball, but he was weak against the fire-type, and the first direct hit put him down and out for the count. Pikachu was locked in a dangerous dance with the much larger Pokemon, scoring an occasional hit but taking quite a few blows himself. They were fairly evenly matched, and Team Rocket knew it.
"We don't have time for this!" Meowth cried, exasperated. "Charizard, get over there by the twerp!" The fire Pokemon obeyed.
Pikachu saw this and hesitated. What was Charizard, his one-time friend, doing obeying Team Rocket? That didn't make sense! And why was the Meowth telling Charizard to go stand by the master - oh. That was why. Pikachu knew that if he attacked Charizard now, with the dragon so close to the master, he would attack the master as well, and he might hurt the poor master. The master was already burned. The shock from the electricity might even kill him. He couldn't attack, not if it would hurt the master. He would rather be taken. The mouse Pokemon's ears drooped.
"Pi...Pikachu," Ash whispered, his vision blurring back into focus for a second. "Pikachu...what's wrong..." Their eyes met for the briefest of instants, Ash's full of pain and worry but not yet beaten, not yet subdued, and Pikachu's dark with grief.
//Cannot hurt the master,// Pikachu said in the language of the pokemon. Ash understood him clearly; the words meant nothing to him, but he could feel the meanings as they ran through Pikahu's mind. //Charizard...Charizard is too close, I cannot hurt the master... Must not hurt the master... Will be taken, first, but cannot hurt the master!//
"Do it, Pikachu," Ash urged as loudly as he could - which wasn't very loudly. "Don't give up - aah!" Charizard had stepped on his leg. The dragon Pokemon heard it's former master's pained cry and hesitated for an instant, but then let out another Flamethrower at Pikachu. The electric-type dodged and, acting purely on reflex, aimed a Thunderbolt in Charizard's direction; the dragon dodged and the lightning stuck Ash directly. The master gave a small whimper of agony. Then something dark and stifling slipped over Pikachu's head, and he knew no more.
Pikachu! Pikachu, look out! Ash tried to cry. But the effects of the Thunderbolt were too strong, and he was paralyzed, unable to do anything as James caught the loyal Pokemon in a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He caught a final glimpse of Jessie's gleeful countenance and heard someone say "Flamethrower!" and then everything went black.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Black. Heavy, hot, black. Oppressive. Magmar midnight. Thick. Couldn't breathe.
Wait...there! A breath of air! And again. The soft caress of oxygen.
No, not oxygen. A sound. A voice. Words...
//Master? Is the master all right?//
Ash pried open his eyes with a superhuman effort. Red orbs stared into his, red surrounded by blue and green. It took a moment for his mind to put the pieces together.
"Bu...Bulbasaur?" he murmured.
"Saur!" //The master is injured!//
"I'm...fine, Bulbasaur," Ash lied, giving the Pokemon a small smile. "Just tired. But...Charizard, and Team Rocket...what happened to them?" His vision blurred again.
"Saur, Bulba-bulbasaur...saur!" //They got away.// The Pokemon's "voice" was sad. //And they took the master's other pokemon... Broke the ball-homes, they did.//
"They took...all my pokemon?" Ash repeated, disbelieving. With an effort he moved his hand and felt his belt, where each Pokeball would be clipped; nothing. A bit of melted plastic here and there - the clips - but no balls. A gentle Vine reached out of the plant on Bulbasaur's back and scooped something off the ground, then dropped it into Ash's limp hand. It was a few shattered bits of plastic. Red and white; one of his Pokeballs. A crystalline tear formed at the edge of Ash's eye. He knew he was going to die, there was no question about that - already he was too weak to move more than a few inches at a time, and every word he spoke just magnified the feeling - but he had planned to use the last of his energy freeing his pokemon. Team Rocket had stolen that from him.
"Saur?"
Ash gave another weak smile. "Bulbasaur...you know you're one of my best friends, buddy."
"Saur!"
"But you can't be my Pokemon forever," the young trainer whispered, reaching out and running his hand over the Pokemon's rubbery skin. "You're free now, Bulbasaur. You can go wherever you want. You're free..."
Ash's voice faded and his eyes closed and his hand fell to the ground, limp. Bulbasaur nudged him slightly with a Vine, but the master didn't wake. Slowly, so slowly, Bulbasaur slipped into the dark pit of oblivion.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Voices. Familiar voices. Voices he knew and trusted. But...who, exactly? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything, except the pain and the black...
Something changed. The voices were closer. They were right next to him. Something wet fell on his cheek - what was the word again? Oh, yes...a tear. It was a tear. From one of the voices. The tear slipped down and into his too-dry mouth; he could barely make out the salty taste.
"Ash! Ash, are you okay?" Then, quieter, less urgent, "What d'you suppose could have happened?"
A pause. "I don't know. Come on, we should get him - and Bulbasaur - back to the village. They don't look so good."
There was a peculiar sensation, as if he was floating; the ground was far below him now. He blinked his eyes open for an instant. There was a flash of brown, and of red, but the light was too intense and his eyes closed once more of their own accord. Black.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ash's return to consciousness was slow and excruciatingly painful. It took a few minutes to remember the reason. It took a few minutes longer to remember that Team Rocket had all of his pokemon - Pikachu included. It didn't, however, take very long to fight back the pain enough to get out of bed, retrieve his backpack and grab some empty Pokeballs from the tray, and limp toward the door.
"Saur?"
"Bulbasaur? Is that you?" Ash noted with distaste that his voice was still weak. He would have to hide that if he was to have any hope of tricking Team Rocket into giving him his pokemon back.
"Saur! Bulbasaur!" //The master should not be up! Where is the master going?//
"To find the others," Ash replied grimly. "I'm not leaving them in the hands of Team Rocket."
//The master cannot go alone! The master is still weak. He must wait for his friends!//
Ash shook his head. "No, Bulbasaur. There's no time to lose. I have to go find Pikachu and the others, and I have to go now."
//Then...I am coming too.//
"You can't! You're in almost as bad a shape as I am!"
This time, Bulbasaur's "voice" was grim. //If the master can go, I can. They are my friends too.//
Ash hesitated, then sighed. "All right. Come on, I'll carry you in my backpack. You can't walk that far." Retracing his steps, the black-haired boy carefully helped his Pokemon climb into his brown backpack and settled the straps on his shoulders as comfortably as he could (which wasn't very, considering the huge burns over most of his body), then started once more for the door.
I'm coming, Pikachu!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Piiipikachu! Pika!"
"Now, now, Pikachu, threats never did no one no good," Meowth said in Human, shaking his claw at the mouse-type. He turned to Jessie and James. "Oh, the boss is going to love this!"
"We've been trying for years to catch that PIkachu," James said gleefully. "And now we've finally done it!"
"And all it took was a little help from one of the twerp's former friends," Jessie added. Her voice was confident, proud. "I think we all owe Charizard a big thank-you, what do you think, James?"
"By golly, I think you're right!"
"And I know just the way to do it, too - by making him a member of Team Rocket!" The last, of course, was Meowth. "How's about it, big guy?"
"Char...char," the dragon said, shaking it's head.
"Come on, Charizard," James encouraged. "It's fun!" But the dragon was stubborn.
"Fine, then. We'll just have to make it join. James?"
"Weezing, go!"
"Go, Arbok!"
"Char!"
"Pika!"
"Poison sting!"
Charizard gave a bellow of pain and rage as Arbok's darts struck home.
"Piiiika!"
"Hey, leave him alone!"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ash stumbled into Team Rocket's latest lair looking disheveled but angry. His eyes were alight with a strange fire; Team Rocket, who had seen the twerp pretty mad before, were suddenly cringing before the onslaught of his rage. Even Pikachu looked more than a little worried.
Then again, Pikachu knew just how tired Ash was, and how much pain he was in, and he knew that a single attack by Charizard or even one of Team Rocket's pokemon would be enough to knock him down permanently. So he had quite a bit to be worried about.
Said dragon Pokemon realized this, too. But unfortunately, it didn't have the same loyalty as Pikachu; a burning fury welled up inside its mind, and it moved to attack. Ash stumbled to the side and managed to avoid the brunt of the attack, but the flames still licked at his clothes and he gritted his teeth. Charizard beat his wings, creating a huge gust of wind, and Ash fell to his knees.
"Piiiiika!" The mouse Pokemon bounded forward, ignoring the fire-type completely, and ran toward its master. But before it could get there Charizard let loose another powerful blast of fire, and it struck Ash dead-on; the young trainer let out a scream of anguish and collapsed.
"Pikaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" //Nooooooooooo!// The electric-type took a flying leap and landed next to its master's face. Ash gave a pitiful moan.
"Pikachu...buddy...I'm sorry... It wasn't supposed to...end like this..." Ash raised his head slightly and looked at his Pikachu, sorrow in his eyes. "We made a great team, you and I," he murmured. "But now...you gotta free the others, you got that? Free the others. Get them away from Team Rocket. Save yourselves...Bulbasaur's here, he'll help..." There was a quiet sound of agreement, and Bulbasaur squirmed his way out of Ash's backpack, being careful the whole time to stay out of Team Rocket's sight. It wouldn't do to be found out so early.
//But the master - //
Ash gave a weak cough and grimaced slightly as another wave of pain washed over him. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Just help the others and get out of here... Please, Pikachu..." His eyes were pleading, now, wrestling with Pikachu's and slowly, so slowly, winning, "just save yourselves... Do it as a favor...to me..."
"Piiika..."
"Char!"
Pikachu jumped away just as another Flamethrower struck the ground right next to him, missing Ash's now-unconscious form by mere millimeters. Bulbasaur slunk back into the shadows, knowing that PIkachu would call when it needed help. Pikachu was by far the most able of all of the master's pokemon at battling without direction, without hope. It was up to him now.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Nurse Joy?"
"Yes, Rosaline? What is it?"
"Do you have a group of wild pokemon coming in today?"
"No... No, they're not due until next week. Why?"
"Because....well, just look out the window." Nurse Joy got up and dusted off her apron, then walked to the window that overlooked the road. Sure enough, there was a rather large crowd of weary pokemon stumbling their way up the path. She noticed with trepidation that many of them looked rather badly hurt, especially the types weak against fire.
"How strange," the nurse muttered. "Rosaline, I get the feeling they'll be needing quite a bit of help - could you go get Chancey and round up all of the assistants you can?"
"Sure, Nurse Joy. I'll be back in a moment." Rosaline left, and Nurse Joy leaned up against the window, watching the strange parade of pokemon wind their way through the grasses. She waited unti lthey were very near, then walked to the door to welcome them.
"Hello there," she smiled, holding the door open. "You look tired; why don't you all come in and - "
"Pi...pika?" From its spot hidden behind a larger Pokemon, a small Pikachu came forward, limping badly and looking downright exhausted. "Piiiiiika..."
"Wait a second," Nurse Joy breathed. "Aren't you...Ash's Pikachu?"
"Saur! Bulbasaur!" A Bulbasaur shouldered its way forward through the crowd, joined an instant later by a Bayleaf. Both had their Vines out and seemed to be dragging something. It took a minute for the nurse to realize that the something was a makeshift stretcher, and that the motionless, frighteningly pale form on the stretcher was Ash Ketchum.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It took a month and a half for Ash to stir from this second coma, and it was nearly a year before he would speak again. He grew distant from both his friends and his pokemon; he refused to see his morher or Professor Oak. (Misty let them into his room at night while he slept, but he had never found out about this.) His self-imposed silence wasn't broken until after a harrowing misadventure involving a sudden downpour and a very tall cliff nearly tore Pikachu from his grasp forever. The shock snapped him out of the black depths of his depression, and slowly he began the return to normal. He had made Misty and Brock swear never to tell either his mom or Professor Oak.
He still bore the scars, Misty knew, and in more ways than one. If you looked closely enough, you could still make out the feathery lines of the scars where his burns had long since healed. He avoided people as much as possible and had yet to aquire a new Pokemon, concentrating instead on strengthening the bonds between himself and the pokemon who already called him a friend. Most notably, his competetive spirit was completely and totally gone.
"C'mon, Brock, Ash, I'll race you to the top of the next hill!" Misty said, sprinting forward. They had played this game for years, the person in the rear challenging the others to a race; it was as second-nature to them as carrying Pikachu or Tokepi.
"You're on," Brock answered, breaking into his somehow jerky but still very fast gait that she knew so well.
Ash just grunted. "You guys go on ahead," he called after them, "I'll catch up in a bit..." In seconds, the red-head and the brunette were gone, and the young trainer was left with only Pikachu for company.
"Pika?"
"Nah, no race today," Ash answered. "I'm not in the mood."
"Piiiika..." //You're never in the mood anymore.//
Ash snorted. "More truth than fiction in that, buddy. I don't know, maybe I'd feel better if I could just go somewhere else for a while, start over with a clean slate...y'know what I mean?" The PIkachu nodded slightly. "Oh, well," Ash sighed, "not much I can do about it now." Pikachu expected him to speed up, to catch up with the others, but to its surprise the black-haired teen sat down heavily and stared listlessly at the ground.
"What'd'ya think, Pikachu?" he continued in a depressed tone. "I mean, Charizard obviously thought I screwed up. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm nothing but a big fat failure. Maybe I should just leave, go away and let everyone else live their life like they were meant to."
"Pika! Pikapi!"
Another snort. "Right. So this is what's supposed to be? Brock and Misty are supposed to be wandering around aimlessly for the rest of their lives, just so that I'm not alone, instead of following their dreams? Charizard's supposed to be with Team Rocket? Well, I'm not too sure. I bet none of that was supposed to happen. I was never supposed to become a trainer." His voice fell, dark and dispirited. "I probably wasn't even supposed to get you."
"Pika!" Pikachu's "voice" was filled with hurt, and the electric-type protested lourly and vehemently for several minutes. Ash just looked at him sadly.
"You know it as well as I do, buddy," he said when Pikachu finally quieted down. "I mean, just look at the facts. I showed up late, almost too late. You hated me from the first. I bet you didn't even know that there was another potential trainer only a few seconds behind me, did you? It was a girl, a really pretty, really smart girl who already knew a lot about electric types...you'd've liked her a lot, I'm sure." Ash hung his head. "I saw her last time we were in Pallette Town. She's the cashier at the restaurant, doesn't own a single Pokemon... How bad did I screw up her destiny, Pikahu? And how many other people are there like her, people whose futures are ruined all because of me?"
"Piiika..."
Shaking his head, Ash stood and lifted his Pokemon to his shoulder. "We should get going. Misty and Brock are probably wondering where we are." Pikachu gripped his jacket tightly so it wouldn't fall off, and then Ash set off down the trail in his long even lope. Lengthy strides ate up the ground, and it only took a moment to reach his friends. He wasn't even winded.
Brock, however, was. And in a rather large amount of pain.
"Not the ear! Not the ear!"
"I think you and I need to go have a talk, Brock," Misty was saying, her face flushed with anger. "Waaaaaay over there."
"Uh, guys? What's going on - oh." Ash fell silent when he suddenly realized that there was a third person there, a girl he didn't recognize. She was rather short and had long black hair, rather like his own in color and texture, but instead of sticking out in unmanageable spikes hers fell straight down her back to end in flaring red tips. Long bangs streaked with the same brilliant red covered half her face. Her eyes burned with a fierce light; the same light, Ash knew, that his had once displayed. She was obviously competetive. It takes one, he thought wryly, to know one.
"Ohayoo gozaimasu!" she chirped, holding out her hand. "I'm Teae, but I go by Twitch."
"I'm Ash," he said flatly, shaking her hand and dropping it as quickly as possible.
Twitch glanced him over for a second, a look of concentration passing over her face. "That sounds familiar...I'm sure I've heard of you before. I'm a Fire trainer, by the way - how about you?"
"I, uh, I'm not really a trainer anymore," he said. "And I really didn't have any particular type when I was training. Why?"
"Just curious," Twitch replied, shrugging. Again, there was that look of concentration, visible for only the briefest of instants before it disappeared once more. "Hey, I remember now! We have a mutual friend," she explained in response to the questioning look on his face. "I think you'll remember him. Charizard, come on out!"
"Piiiika!"
"H - hush, Pikachu," Ash whispered hurriedly, taking a surprised step backward. Because standing there in front of him, right behind Twitch the Fire trainer, was his old friend and possibly enemy Charizard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Char!"
"Piiipikachu..."
"Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!!!"
"What in the world has Pikachu so riled - oh," Misty said, turning and recognizing the problem at once.
"That's Charizard!" Brock exclaimed. "What the hell? Where did it come from?"
"Not important right now," Misty said with gritted teeth, hand flying to her PokeBalls. "Between you and me we can probably take it out before - "
"Right," Brock cut her off, his hand going to his own PokeBalls. "Onix!"
Ash, meanwhile, was not taking such drastic measures. His face had paled and was now drawn with painful memories; he stumbled backwards a few steps in shock.
"Pika!" The little mouse Pokemon leapt forward to land bristling on the ground before its master, perfectly willing to fight to defend Ash's life if necessary. Which it looked like it would be, as Charizard drew himself up for a Flamethrower.
"Charizard, stop that!" Twitch shouted, enraged. "What in flames do you think you're doing?!" Charizard cast a fierce glare at Ash before turning suddenly and winging off to the horizon. Turning back to Ash, the fire trainer's face softened. "You all right?"
"...I'm fine," Ash said flatly when his mind finally returned to the present. "I should go." He held out an arm to Pikachu, who scrambled up and reclaimed his usual perch on the teen's shoulder. Ash turned and nearly fled back down the trail.
"What was up with that?" Twitch asked, watching his retreating back. "Is he scared of fire pokemon or something?"
"Long story," Brock said, coming up behind her. "Onix, return."
"You too, Polywhorl, Staryu," Misty said, recalling her own pokemon. Twitch glanced at them in surprise.
"Why'd you get them out?"
Misty's face turned cold. "We were going to use them to take down that Charizard," she said in a voice just as flat as Ash's had been.
"But why?"
"Because it's tried to kill Ash once before, and there's no guarantee it won't try again." Brock had adopted an identical tone.
"But - Charizard was Ash's Pokemon, wasn't it? It's always going on about what a great trainer Ash was, saying I'm doing everything wrong and that I should do it more like Ash did," Twitch said. "There's no way it hates Ash."
"Well, it does. Come on, we'd better go make sure he's all right - it owuld be just like him to fall down some cliff or something."

Which, of course, is exactly what Ash had done.
"Piiiiiiiiiiiiiikaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"I know, I know!" Ash shouted, fighting down the feeling of nausea that always came with free-fall. "But yell at me later, okay? Tododyle, I choose you!" The faithful water Pokemon appeared, cheerful as always, dancing in midair. "No time for that now, just aim your Watergun at the ground!" Tododyle complied. With Ash's arms wrapped around Tododyle and Pikachu gripping the master's jacket with its sharp claws, the trio's frighteningly rapid descent slowed and was finally brought under control.
"Good job," Ash said, shaking his head to clear it. Tododyle had done extremely well, dropping them only ten or so feet from the ground; a little fall like that was nothing. "Go ahead and return - I think you're gonna need all the rest you can get. Why does this always happen to me?" His gaze found its way to the very top of the cliff; it was several hundred feet at the least, and no easy climb.
"Pika, pikapika piii," Pikachu chattered angrily.
"Look, Pikachu, I said I'm sorry," Ash sighed. "I know I should watch where I'm going more closely. Especially in the middle of an unfamiliar forest like this. But how was I supposed to know there was a cliff there? Besides, you weren't paying any more attention than I was."
"Pika!"
Ash grinned. "Deny it all you want, you know it's true. But what I said earlier still goes. Survive now, yell later. Besides. what I want to know is, where did that cliff come from? It wasn't there when we came by earlier, I know that."
Now Pikachu just looked worried. He chittered rapidly in Pokemon.
//Don't understand. Master is observant - master knows how to see cliffs. Master has plenty of practice at that,// he added as an afterthought, turning a scornful look on said trainer. //But master is right - this one was not here earlier. And...don't know, it smells different. Strange. Not normal.//
It was Ash's turn to look worried, and he cast a glance at the sky, where he found the answer. "Not normal, you say? Could those rainclouds be the problem?"
High overhead, thick clouds crowded in on each other, jostling for the best position. Lightning cracked through the sky and a huge roll of thunder rent the air. But the concerning part was not the fact that there was a storm - the Master above knew they had been through enough of those to not be bothered by them anymore - it was the fact that the clouds were brilliant green and the lightning was black.
//...//
"I think 'what the hell' just about covers it," Ash muttered; Pikachu agreed.
The hairs on the back of Ash's neck raised, and a chill chased itself up and down his spine. He turned slowly.
"You again."
"Char...."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Where could they be?" Misty asked for the seventh time. "We've combed this entire forest!"
Brock shook his head in confusion. "Misty's right, we've looked everywhere. It's like they just disappeared."
"I don't understand it either," Twitch said, but her voice was less than convincing. The brunette and the redhead rounded on her instantly.
"What is it?"
"Well...there is a legend about this place...but it's all just a story," she said hastily, embarassed that she even brought up the point. Misty and Brock exchanged a glance. They had run across - and lived through - enough "legends" to know that they were generally at least based in fact.
"Come on, tell us," Brock urged. "What's this legend about?"
"People around here say that sometimes, travellers with strong emotions just...disappear in here," she said. "A long time ago, this forest belonged to the psychic pokemon. They're all gone now, wiped out by the first human settlers, but their presence remains strong in the deeper parts of the woods - a troubled enough person may actually find himself transported inside his own mind, and never know it. They generally turn up again, once they've faced their problem, but..." Her voice trailed off.
"But?"
"The mind - human or Pokemon - is the most dangerous place possible," Twitch said softly. "A lot of people can't face their fears. They get crushed by their own mind."

-----------------------------

[A/N] Another random moment of inspiration. I'll probably finish it some day; it'd be interesting to see how it turns out, at the very least. We'll see.

Random Quote of the Day:
"Team Rocket's blasting off again!"
- Team Rocket

Thunder boomed as jagged lightning seared across an otherwise pitch-black sky. Rain poured down in thick sheets, pounding the windshield and making it impossible to see.
Which explained why Yuugi's hands were clenched so tightly on the steering wheel, and why his face was drawn in concentration.
"Guys, be quiet!" he said, exasperated. "I can't see in this rain, and your arguing isn't helping any." In the backseat of the van, Jounouchi, Honda, and Otogi suddenly looked very innocent. Mai just rolled her eyes.
"Should we pull over?" Anzu asked, leaning forward so she could see the driver more clearly. "I mean, it's pretty late, and there's no point in driving through this rain if we don't have to."
Yuugi nodded. "I think you're right. I don't like this rain, anyway."
"Then I'll call the Kaibas. There's a little motel, just about half an hour away. We can stop there. And yes, Jounouchi," she added with a significant glance, "they serve dinner."
"What gives you the idea that I was going to ask that?" the blonde asked indignantly.
"Couldn't possibly be that look on your face," Mai responded sarcastically. "Or the fact that all you think about is food."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Sure," Mokuba Kaiba chirped into the cellphone. "I'll tell Seto. We'll meet you there." He hung up, and turned to his older brother Seto. "That was Anzu," he explained. "They're stopping for the night at that motel just up the road."
Seto nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said. "You know how much I just love driving in the rain."
Minutes ticked by. The radio murmured quietly as the windshield wipers snapped back and forth across the windshield, flicking away gallons of water only to find even more there half a second later. The small Kaiba car crested a relatively tall hill.
"Er, Seto?" Mokuba asked. "Isn't this a one-way road?"
"Yes," Seto answered, only half-listening. He was busy retuning the radio.
"Then why are there headlights up there?"
The older Kaiba brother's attention was instantly back on the road, just in time to see a pair of brilliant headlights dip down into a little depression and disappear from view.
"Holy - call the others," he snapped, veering toward the side of the road. He wasn't worried about his own safety - he never did - or even that of his brother; they knew the other vehicle was there, they were prepared. But the van was completely unaware, and he estimated that if the driver didn't figure it out in about fifteen seconds or less there would be a head-on collision. Mokuba's train of thought was identical, and he had dialed before his brother finished speaking.
"They're not answering," Mokuba said nervously.
Seto cursed and leaned on the horn, flashing his lights on and off as rapidly as possible.
"They're still not picking up!" Mokuba was definitely panicking now. "Big brother, isn't there something we can do?"
"Not anymore," Seto said grimly. The car crested another shorter hill, and once again their timing was perfect: Not so far ahead of them, red taillights blazed, and white headlights created a fiery corona around the van's silhouette. There was a squealing of brakes, and the van swerved ever so slightly, and then the huge truck slammed into the van with the force of a hurricane and the sound of the explosion rolled over them like a peal of thunder.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Jounouchi blinked slowly, his vision blurred but coming back into focus. His eyes stung. He coughed; the air was filled with a thick, foul-smelling smoke. His seatbelt buckle was searing his skin.
The Brooklyn blonde's mind snapped into gear instantly, and he ripped off the seatbelt, throwing it into the luggage behind him. Looking around, he realized he was the only person conscious. He stepped carefully over Otogi's unmoving but seemingly uninjured form and grasped the doorhandle, ignoring the pain in his pals as he pulled backward with all his might. The door didn't budge. He pulled again, and again, and again. He coughed. The smoke was starting to make him dizzy, and he cursed. He gave another mighty tug -
And nearly flew backwards as the door slid back easily. Seto Kaiba's brown-haired head poked in and took a quick survey of the carnage, then he climbed in and lifted Anzu and Mai in his arms. In an instant he was gone, carrying both girls and moving like lightning. Jounouchi managed to sling Otogi over his back and crawl out, coughing and hacking the entire time.
"Mokuba, call an ambulance," he heard the older Kaiba call. "They're all unconscious, and it looks like Honda might be hurt pretty badly."
"Working on it," the dark-haired kid shouted back, sprinting across the road to the car and disappearing inside. Jounouch gave another weak cough and stumbled over to where Seto was checking the girls' pulses.
"Chihuahua!" Seto exclaimed, surprised. "I thought you were out cold."
"I'm not so easy," Jou growled, setting down his friend's unconscious body with considerably less care than he meant to and nearly collapsing to his knees. He was still having trouble breathing, and his side hurt terribly. He didn't even have the strength to toss an insult Kaiba's direction.
"Stay here," the young CEO said, standing. "I've got to get the others. That van's going to blow."
Jou's vision swam suddenly, and by the time he was able to focus again the tall, slim figure was already gone. In under a minute he was back, this time carrying Shizuka. Jou gasped; she was bleeding from several deep gashes on her face, and her arm was bent at an odd angle.
"Get over here and help," Seto snapped. "We're running out of time!"
"Right," Jounouchi grunted, rising to unsteady feet and following the CEO back to the burning van. Kaiba disappeared into the back for Honda while Jounouchi pried open the front door, ignoring the huge rush of superheated air that nearly singed his bangs. "Yuugi," he called into the smoke. "Yuug! Hey, Yuug, answer me!"
"Jou...Jounouchi?" a weak voice murmured.
"Yuugi!" THe Brooklyn blonde climbed back into the blazing hellhole, waving his hand in front of his face in an uneffective attempt to clear the air. "C'mon, little guy, it's time to get you out of here."
"Just...go," Yuugi's weak voice came again. Suddenly Jounouchi realized that that wasn't his friend's voice; it was the former Pharaoh. He had never heard the Egyptian spirit sound so tired or so forlorn. Jounouchi fanned away some of the smoke, trying to get a better look at his friend.
He immediately wished he hadn't. Yuugi's seat had snapped off at the base and thrown itself into the dashboard, pinning the teenager's small chest against the seatback and the steering wheel with crushing force. To make matters worse, the Sennen Puzzle was deeply embedded into Yuugi's ribs. Blood gushed steadily from the gaping wound. Then it dawned on Jou that that wasn't the young duelist's only wound; his left arm was almost totally severed.
"Gods, Yuugi," he breathed.
"I told you, go," the spirit murmured again. "There's nothing you...can...ahhhhhhhhhh! do...now."
"No, man! Hang in there, Yuug! Don't let go yet! I'll get you out of here!" Seto's words came back to him: "That van's going to blow..."
Suddenly there was a slight change in the duelist's face. Crimson eyes faded to violet; hard lines in the face melted into the more innocent visage of youth. Yuugi coughed up blood.
"Jou..." He had a weak smile on his face.
"Yuugi! Hold on, buddy!"
"Please, Jou...leave me...no hope...." He coughed again, his small form wracked with painful spasms. "Yami's already...dead...won't live anyway..."
"No! I won't leave you!"
Yuugi's eyes fluttered open and locked on Jounouchi's. They were filled with an immense pain, barely held back, but they were pleading, begging. Jou felt as though his heart had been shredded.
"No," he gasped, tears coursing down his cheeks. His calloused hand found Yuugi's small, lily-white, fragile, blood-stained one, and he squeezed it gently. There was no way he was leaving his friend to die like this. He put his free hand against the back of the chair and shoved it away from the dashboard, hoping to free his friend, but it only moved a centimeter or two. Yuugi gave an anguished moan.
"Please, Jou!" he whispered. His eyes were still clear and bright, and he still had that half-smile on his face. So innocent, Jounouchi thought. He doesn't deserve this. That should be me in that chair, dammit, not him! Not him!
A single crystalline tear trickled down Yuugi's flawless cheek and splashed against the burning carpet of the van. "Please," he begged again, voice weak and almost inaudible, "save yourself...forget about me...gas...explode any second...live...Jou, please, go, promise me...take care of...Shizuka and...Grampa...please?" Yuugi's head lifted ever so slightly; his eyes were still pleading, glistening with those perfect tears of his, and his hand was squeezing Jounouchi's. Then his head fell gently forward, and his hand fell away from his friend's, and the life slipped away from his perfect flawless face, and the fire reached the engine and the heat flared all around Jounouchi, and two immensely strong arms reached in through the deadly flames and grabbed the blonde by the shoulders and yanked him away from the wreckage a split second before the van exploded in a blazing inferno.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Drunk Truck Driver Kills King of Games
Domino City

Mouto Yuugi, Duel Monsters Champion and King of Games, lost his life yesterday in a tragic head-on collision. The driver of the other vehicle was drunk; he is in good condition at the Domino Hospital. The other passengers in Mouto-san's van are all in stable condition at the hospital, as well as Kaiba Seto, CEO of KaibaCorp and rescuer of the surviving passengers. An exclusive interview with Kaiba Mokuba, younger brother of Kaiba-san, has revealed that...
Jounouchi smoothed out the ancient newspaper clipping, rubbing the creases flat and letting salt tears spill down his face once more. Ten years later, five miles further down the road, and he still couldn't forget his best friend....
Carefully, reverently, he held the corner of the clipping to the flame of the lit candle and watched as it flared brightly for a few seconds before crumbling to ash.
It was time to let go of the past.

-----------------------------

[A/N] Okay, okay, so this is a little stereotyped...but oh well. The whole car-crash idea has been rattling around in my head for ages. Still, I had fun with it ^_^

Random Quote:
Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.
- La Rochefoucald

Part I: Perfect
...you have to believe / in the power of love...

A girl gave a heavy sigh as the song ended, drifting off into a quiet instrumental before falling altogether silent. Believe. Yeah, right. She had lost the ability to believe long ago. Believers were idiots. And love? Hah! Love was a lie. Love was a cruel joke played on the innocent, the guiltless.
She knew.
She'd been in love once.
He'd been a pitiful specimen of a guy, thin and wiry and blonde and a full foot shorter than she was. He played sports, sure: Tennis. And that only because his mom made him. He hated sports. He certainly wasn't hot, by any definition of the word; he wasn't even cute. He talked with a weird lisp, and people made fun of him for it all the time. He wore thick glasses because he liked them. He told bad jokes. He smiled too often. He was a bookworm, pure and simple.
He was perfect.

A boy sighed as his computer screen went dark, leaving his room in an inky blackness. He didn't like the light. It was too revealing. It might tell the world about his innermost, most secret thoughts, his dreams, his desires.
His love.
He shook his head bemusedly at himself. He had no right to talk about love. It was an infatuation, that was all. Sure, there had been moments, moments that a solid couple would be jealous of, moments of pure bliss in the most unlikely places (Biology class stood out sharply in his mind, as did a certain field trip), but what were a few instants? Flukes, that was all. They were nothing. It was all just wishful thinking on his part.
But they were so real...she was so real...
She was tall and dark, not particularly thin but not fat, either. She didn't hate sports; she just preferred that other people played them. She didn't have an accent, unless she was speaking in Spanish. Her voice was completely and totally neutral. She had her own peculiar dialect, a strange mixture of English and American English and Spanish and Japanese and Quenya and computer lingo and what she referred to as "otaku-ese." She toned it down, usually, but he had heard her angry, heard her exuberant, heard her devastated. He knew and understood her language. He could speak it fluently. She wore glasses because she didn't feel like dealing with the hassles of contacts. She played the flute. She didn't tell jokes. She didn't smile enough, didn't show her twisted and chipped and slightly yellowed and absolutely stunning teeth. She had more hobbies than she could handle at once. She was a weirdo, pure and simple.
She was perfect.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Part II: Popcorn and Sugar Cookies
The school's halls were empty, or nearly so; it was seven in the morning. Classes didn't start until 8:15. There was no reason to be there for a half-hour at the earliest. And yet she was there, computer bag full of books and schoolwork and CDs slung over one shoulder and a folder full of Japanese lessons clutched in one hand, ID case hanging dutifully around her neck. She paced the halls, taking a turn around the back corridors and breezing through the technology section, passing through the Commons wiith nary a glance at the police officer and then pulling up in front of the library, legs stretched and shoulder aching from the weight of her computer bag. The doors were locked. No surprise, the library wasn't supposed to open for another twenty minutes anyway. She retraced her steps and found a seat into the water fountain set into the wall, opening her notes and beginning to study. Five minutes ticked by slowly. She began to hear voices, distant but coming closer. The band hall was open. It was time to leave. She tucked her notes back into the front pocket of her folder and slipped her pen into her ID case, swung her feet back down onto the floor, and was gone before the first of the early-morning band members had the chance to sense her presence.
She had been in the band, once. Two years previously. She had given it her all, spent all of her spare time practicing and helping others, had even organized a morning sectional to bring up the low-level players up to speed, but it hadn't worked out. The other players weren't willing to put forth the effort. She knew she was just wasting her time and energy, so she quit. The few members who had stayed had never forgiven her. She had spent the last two years avoiding anything to do with the band.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she realized she had walked back to the library entrance. Still locked. The librarians were late, as usual. No matter; she set her bag on the floor and leaned against the locker, relishing the relative peace of the school and breathing in the strangely scented air.
The air was the whole reason she liked standing in this particular hallway, really. The library was great, sure, but by 7:45 it was packed with students, loud and noisy and no better than the other congregation areas. No, it was the hall she came for. The air had a slight chill, enough to make her think about putting on a sweater but never enough to be uncomfortable. And the temperature was counterbalanced by the queer, somehow warm smell of sugar cookies and popcorn. She had yet to figure out where it came from - it certainly wasn't the cafeteria, even though the kitchens were only about fifty yards away, and there were no classrooms nearby, so it couldn't have come in with any teacher. It was as if the smell just appeared there in the early morning, as if by magic, and disappeared by lunchtime.
The last ten minutes slipped away and the library door opened from the inside. The librarian greeted her with a small smile and a handshake; it was nothing unusual for the girl to be there well before the library was open. Actually, it was more unusual for her not to be there. She took her normal seat, in the middle of the lower area but sheltered behind the wall, equidistant from the History and Foreign Languages sections and only a few feet from the little computer island, and spread her papers over the table. It was 7:30; her day had begun. Japanese lessons were replaced with World History worksheets, essays, and Chemistry notes.
The door opened. She looked up in surprise; no one else was ever this early! She glanced up. It was a fairly short guy, long light-colored hair and black T-shirt. She couldn't see his face. He was bent over the front desk filling out the sign-in sheet. The girl gave a small shrug and turned back to her work.
"May I see your ID, sir?" the librarian asked politely. The girl heard the chair sliding back along the carpeted floor as she got up.
"Sure. Here."
The girl froze.
It was him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Part III: Equilibrium
All's fair in love and war.
Riiiiight. A boy shook his head in amusement. Love, war, what was the difference? Love your enemy. That's all it was. A battle for dominance, but over what - land, money, power, your heart - it didn't matter. It was all a war.
They had made peace, once. There had been stability. The fighting had stopped, replaced by the blissfull calm of oneness...and then it had all fallen apart.
The war was back on.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Part IV: The Joys of Webmastering
Tap tap. Tap. Tap-tap-taptap-tap taptaptap tap. Tap tap. Tap. Click.
Silence.
"Damn!" A sigh of frustration; a curtain of hair falling around a grimacing face. Another murmured curse. Long fingers danced over the keyboard again, this time to a more productive end. The boy's face lit up in a wide smile. "Got ya, ya bugger," he murmured.
"Got what?" someone asked.
"Huh? Oh, I've been trying to get this color scheme to work," he said, not sparing a glance to see who was talking to him. He didn't have to. It was her. His voice was as calm and controlled as he could make it, but he couldn't master the flush rising up his cheeks, so he kept his face turned squarely to the screen in front of him.
He heard a chair scraping back, and then she was there, leaning over his shoulder to look at the page. "Hmmm... Have you tried making that background a shade darker? With, I don't know, maybe a pale yellow text? That'll make it easier on the eyes, and it'll fit your graphics better."
The boy shook his head. "I've tried that. I can't find the right name. It always gives me these weird oranges."
"Here, let me try." He stood and gave her the chair, watching with more than a little curiousity as she typed in the school homepage.
"What are you doing?"
"There's a really nice color chart I know of, that I think will really help," she said, not looking up. "Let's see...ah, here it is. You click on the colors you want, like this, and it'll bring them up off to the side and overlay them for you. That way you can see what it looks like before you go change all your code."
The boy gave an appreciative nod as she clicked a handful of blues and yellows. "The second and third ones go well," he said, leaning in for a better look.
The girl's shoulders tensed, and he straightened quickly. His cheeks turned another shade of red.
"Er, yeah... Where's your source code?"
"It's on Geocities," he stammered. "First window on the left..." She pulled it up and replaced some of his text with seemingly random series of letters and digits. He let out an appreciative whistle when she refreshed his page. "Wow...that's a huge improvement already."
She nodded. "Yeah. Now all you have to do is replace the light blue and gold tags with the colors on this one, and you should be good."
He winced. "Guess I should get started then. I've got about ten pages, and they're all tables and stuff..."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
She tapped her finger on the mouse thoughtfully, skimming over the page. "Have you ever tried CSS?"
"What's that?"
"Cascading Style Sheets. It's basically a slightly fancier version of HTML. It's kinda weird at first, but once you figure it out it's great. I use it all the time. You can set it up so that you only have to change one page to change your entire site, and if you have a part that you want to be different you can change just that part too. Here, let me show you." She opened up the Geocities window again and selected Create New, typing in "style.css" as the filename.
"Okay, here's how it works. You've got a body tag, just like in HTML, except that you use the curly brackets instead of the arrow things. You can put in background color, scrollbar properties, font face and size, all sorts of stuff... And then down here you can play with your links. You know, get rid of the underline, change all the colors, give it a background when you roll the mouse over it, all that fun junk that the better sites have. And if you want a special look for, say, your tables, you can add that in up here, above the body tag." There was a minute or two of furious typing, and then she clicked Save. "And all you have to do to put it into your pages is link to it, like this..." She put in a short string of code that the light-haired boy didn't follow.
"That's awesome," he said, looking at the page. The colors were all off - for sake of demonstration she'd used colors like "rose" and "fireorange," and the overall effect was extremely tacky - but even so he could see how much faster the page had loaded and how many fewer errors there were.
"Isn't it, though?" she said, sounding rather proud of herself. "I'll e-mail you some good links tonight, so you can go learn how to do it. For now just go ahead and play around with what I already wrote; copy and paste the link into the other pages and get rid of the extra tags, and you should be home free. What's this for, anyway?"
"Oh, it's just something a friend asked me to work on," he replied. "Eventually it's going to be his fanart archive. But he's even more clueless about HTML than I am, so he asked me to make the page for him."
The girl opened her mouth to say something, but the bell cut her short. She glanced at her watch. "Crap! I've got to go - my class is on the other end of the building, and I'm usually there by now!" She snagged her bag and nearly ran for the exit.
"Hey, thanks," he called to her retreating back. "You really helped me a lot."
"Anytime," she said over her shoulder, giving him a small half-wave as she blew through the door.
Making a conscious effort to wipe the stupid grin off his face, he logged off first Geocities and then the computer, and made a beeline towards his first period class.

-----------------------------

[A/N] Not one of my favorite works. More than anything else, this was written as an outlet; I may occasionally add to it, or it may get dropped permanently. It was never meant to become anything big. And expect the style to change a lot; like I said, this is just a random thing, so I'll tend to switch into whatever style I'm currently using in my other fics.

Random Quote:
The fickleness of the women I love is only equalled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.
- George Bernard Shaw

12 November 2005
So I think I've finally decided to actually start keeping up with this site, and finish uploading all the miscellaneous bits and pieces that have never made it all the way to cyberspace. ^^;; So. First project: "Music of the Night." Long story short, Furuba and Phantom of the Opera are far too amusing, especially when tossed well and drizzled lightly with a Naruto / Harry Potter / Team Rocket blend. *nod nod*