Cheyenne: Standard disclaimers apply.
Before you ask: Yes, I'm working on it. Expect an update no later than Tuesday or Wednesday.
Italicized sections are flashbacks. The ending is odd, for it eluded me so.
Enjoy!
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"See here, Yuugi. Do you see how beautiful it is?"
"I don't see what makes it so pretty. It's just a funny rock—a funny rock with funny drawings! It is not beautiful, grandpa. It is strange."
"A wise man once said that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, young Yuugi."
"But what if it isn't beautiful?"
"That is what I am trying to say, Yuugi. Something that that appears beautiful to one person might appear hideous to another."
"That's stupid."
"No it isn't, Yuugi. I'm sure there are some things you consider beautiful that others consider ugly and plain. When you're older you'll understand."
"… I think the desert is beautiful. I think mother is beautiful."
"Yes, Yuugi. I know you do. I know you do."
The room bustles with activity. People mingle and talk, sharing stories both past and present. Everywhere you look people are smiling and laughing about some private joke, and one cannot help but catch the almost euphoric mood that comes with it all.
Near a large window to the far left of the room, Yuugi Motou watches his friends quietly, a small smile making its way across his face as Jounouchi and Honda continue to squabble amongst themselves.
He never says anything, for there is nothing he can say that needs to be known. Instead, he remains silent—observing. Always observing.
A memory flashes unbidden. Yuugi sighs then, his eyes sliding shut as he lets the pictures consume him once more.
"I never understood, Yuugi, how it is you notice this stuff."
The air was warm; the scent of spring was all around him. Flowers and trees lent their blissful aromas to the wind, which promptly mixed them all up, adding in its own flavor before releasing the finished combination into the air again.
Yuugi cannot help the smile that strays across his face. His other is still non-corporal, and the spirit's hands pass through the objects around him, but still he enjoys himself, momentarily free of his golden prison.
"You learn to notice these things, you know," Yuugi says, laughing lightly as he turns to his other, whose dark plum eyes sparkle with rarely seen mirth. "You learn to savor every moment and every smell; every touch and every feeling. And when things change… you notice it. You can't help but notice it. To others, it is but a small thing; many don't even know that something—that one, small something—has changed until it is too late."
"But you notice," The spirit murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure as a breeze swirls by, lightly ruffling Yuugi's hair but leaving the spirit untouched, still frozen in time.
"Yes, other me. I notice. I always notice."
Yuugi chuckles lightly to himself. His hands no longer stray to where the puzzle once rested firmly against his chest, as they used to, for he knows that it is gone, along with the spirit. He's acknowledged this fact for years now.
The young man looks up as Jounouchi stands angrily, hands at his side as he shouts at Honda, who shouts back. He knows they are fighting about Shizuka and the wedding arrangements, for what else do his friends speak of these days?
It is strange, he thinks, how easily life goes on. Sometimes it's like the events of four years ago never took place, especially when he looks at where they are now.
Anzu, the girl Yuugi had once thought he would marry, was a dancer in New York, engaged to a wealthy businessman.
He hopes she and Kaiba will be happy.
Otogi, well, no one really knew where he had gone. Every now and then they received letters, of course—letters that everyone was surprised to get, for Otogi had never struck them as one to write letters.
The Ishtars? They went back in Egypt, to no one's great surprise.
Honda was marrying Shizuka in three weeks.
Jounouchi had married Mai two years previous. The violet-eyed blonde was now whispering something in Shizuka's ear, and Yuugi knew it was about the irrationality of men and their husbands—fiancé in Shizuka's case.
And Yuugi, well, Yuugi worked at the Kame Game Shop. He did most of the work now, as Sugoroku Motou had grown frail and, though still strong in spirit, was found resting and sleeping more often than not.
"Yuugi, Yuugi…" The spirit says, shaking his head in amusement, tri-colored hair swaying lightly. "You will work yourself to the bone, partner."
"Grandpa depends on me, spirit. It's my job to help him." Yuugi hums lightly as he moves around the shop, lightly stowing new booster packs and other Duel Monsters-related items on the many assorted shelves. "And I like it. It gives me something to do."
He turns to look at the spirit, who is perched thoughtfully on a stool by the cashier desk.
"I see," his other self says slowly.
"Do you?"
The Pharaoh is silent at that.
Yuugi moves on to complete his task.
Yuugi smiles to himself, raising his glass to his lips and taking a small sip as the memory fades from his conscious mind.
Jounouchi knocks over some napkins. Honda laughs and asks if he could find something daintier and less life threatening to knock over next time. Jounouchi throws a fork at him. Honda hides under the table. Mai laughs and Shizuka looks like she wants to sink into her chair so she doesn't have to witness the stupidity of her husband-to-be and older brother.
The wedding shower is going to get heated if someone doesn't step in soon.
Yuugi places his glass on the white-covered table. The room is decorated in light pink and white, perfect for a shower.
The guests mill about, tactfully ignoring the relatively harmless squabble. Yuugi stand up, straightening his jacket as he makes his way out of the room quietly. Night has fallen; this party has been going on for three hours. Yuugi smiles again. He has picked up another glass of champagne in a transparent wine glass, and he now stands outside on the balcony of the building they had rented. It was no mansion, but it felt all the less surreal for it. Tilting his head up, Yuugi's eyes focus on the moon that shines brightly above him.
"It is beautiful, spirit, is it not?" Yuugi asks, turning to see the shimmering, translucent figure of the Pharaoh. The other nods, but he does not say anything. It was strange, staying here in Pegasus' mansion.
Yuugi smiles again as he looks down at his hand to see another hand covering it.
"Beautiful," the spirit whispers, and for a moment Yuugi can imagine that the other is thinking about something else entirely.
That was the thing with the spirit. His words were few when he spoke to his partner, but the small number of words he did speak were often laced with hidden meanings, and it was only on rare occasions that Yuugi was able to tell what the other really meant.
It had been hard letting him go, and Yuugi could not—would not—pretend that it wasn't. It was still hard now, even though Yuugi had long since accepted that yes, the spirit was gone, and he was never coming back. He was where he belonged—there with the friends and family he had been forced to leave so very long ago.
But it still hurt.
Yuugi remembers reading somewhere that, given time, the wounds that festered in one's heart vanished completely. He shakes his head as he thinks of that untruth. Yes, over time the pain lessens, but it is always there. A dull ache; an emptiness where there was once a sense of fulfillment and content.
"Yes, other me. I notice. I always notice."
But he hadn't noticed this. Yuugi knew he hadn't, for he had not realized what was missing until the Pharaoh was gone, unwittingly taking not only a part of his soul, but his heart along with him.
"You did it, partner. You win." Those eyes look at him with such warmth and pride, but even they cannot stop the younger duelist's tears as he kneels on the floor, body shaking.
"Stand up… The winner shouldn't be on his knees," the spirit—no, Atem—soothes, placing a hand on Yuugi's shoulder. But still the tears fall, sliding from Yuugi's eyes, down his face, and onto the stone floor.
"If I were you I would not cry," Atem says, his voice colored with light amusement, but Yuugi senses something else. Something lurking behind it.
Letting out another sob, Yuugi rests his head against Atem's hand. "I… I am too weak…" Yuugi whispers. "You were my hero… My goal! I want to be strong—like you…" His voice drops even lower, so quiet that the Pharaoh struggles to hear.
Yuugi feels a hand lift his chin, and once again he finds himself staring into those dark plum eyes, now mixed with small shades of crimson. Atem shakes his head, smiling softly.
"You're not weak," the spirit says. "You've always had a power that no one else could beat…" He pauses again, removing his hand from Yuugi's chin as they both stand up, facing each other one last time. "The power of kindness. Partner… The courage you showed by fighting me showed me the path I must take.
"Other me…"
"No, Yuugi. I'm not the 'other you' anymore. And you are no one else but you!" Now both of Atem's hands rested on Yuugi's shoulders. Yuugi's eyes were still moist and shiny, but he had stopped crying as he waited for Atem to continue. "You are Yuugi… The only Yuugi Motou in the world!" Atem's face grew serious as he said that, and Yuugi felt his breath hitch.
He remembers little, Yuugi realizes. Little besides that. He remembers Isis speaking instructions and Jounouchi, Honda and Anzu crying and saying their final goodbyes as the spirit spoke his name, forcing the doors to the afterlife open.
But no real details.
He remembers how the Pharaoh had walked forward, never looking back, not once—not even as the doors to the afterlife closed behind him, sealing him away forever.
Forever.
It was only afterwards that Yuugi had realized he loved him.
Loves him.
Yes, Yuugi had conceded at last. He loved the spirit. Loves the spirit. And he had only realized it after the Pharaoh was gone forever.
And perhaps, Yuugi thinks, perhaps the Pharaoh—Atem—had loved him back.
The smile that graces Yuugi's face this time is no longer the small of a naive and innocent child, but the smile of an older, more mature man. A man who has seen things that many people could not even begin to imagine.
The spirit's words fly to his mind.
"Beautiful."
The meaning that had escaped him once before was his to hold and cherish.
The spirit had not been talking about the moon, but about him. Yuugi.
He turns his head and can almost picture himself back at Duelist Kingdom, the same moon, that moon which had seen so much, shining above him.
The spirit is there, just as he had been before. Atem.
His eyes return to the moon once more, and he can almost feel the other's hand on his; the other's hot breath on his neck.
"Beautiful," the spirit whispers again.
And at last he understands.
