Yuusei stands – not even proudly – out in the chilled morning light. He is cold, and he has been standing in the same spot for quite some time. Even he isn't sure why.

He holds his prized card between his – gloveless – fingertips. His Stardust Dragon. He isn't even really looking at it, studying it, as passersby would most likely assume. The worn teenager is concentrating, though; he's looking at that card so hard, and he's seeing past the card. The image on the card blurs, and the edges follow, and soon all he can see is a face. It's a blurry face, but he concentrates harder.

It isn't just a face anymore – it is now a person. It isn't a whole body - only a face - but Yuusei sees it as a whole person, because he knows this person, has known them for quite a while.

If you knew someone, loved someone, how could you look at their face, and really only see their face?

A soft morning breeze begins to blow, and the teen notes it, but doesn't pay any more mind. The fingers that are holding the card should feel frozen, but they don't; they feel oddly warm. Yuusei rubs the card with his fingertips.

He isn't surprised when he actually feels him, too.

When Yuusei's grip on the card gets so weak that even the morning breeze could twirl it away, it does so immediately, and brushes Stardust into the sky, and a few inches forward, even then. And Yuusei's fingers are suddenly freezing, while his hand remains in the same position, rubbing air.

It's (count – one, two, three, four…) five long moments until Yuusei shifts downward to pick up the card. He knew that the card had fallen – had felt it – but he simply did not wish to feel him.

Yuusei puts his glove back onto his arm. He feels nothing.

Jack.