Disclaimer: If I owned Yugioh, they would not take so long to play the damn card.
Squint really hard, and you might catch a hint of incest. If that's not your thing, don't squint; and take it as a brother-complex. For the Livejournal comm 52flavours, theme no. 1: "shades of white."
Constructive criticism is love.
Amane has come across five shades of white in her lifetime.
The first is the faded ash-white of her brother's hair. Small-town legend has it that the first time he got a look at Amane, his hair turned white out of sheer terror.
The second is the sparkling blue-white of sunlight glinting off fresh snow, before her brother races the blacksmith's son across the yard, and ruins the light-diamonds with footprints.
The third is the wilted, dead white of the daisy her brother brings to her in late summer. Her heart flops like a wounded creature. Then he tells her it's from the blacksmith's son, and she commands her heart to be still, because that's nothing to be excited about.
The fourth is the pale white of the shrieking cloud of ghosts that swirls around her. Her brother can see them only in his nightmares, and she doesn't have the heart to tell him they're real, and that they will take her away from him before she's twenty.
The fifth is the color of the dress of her brother's bride, which is dripping in bows and lace and frills. The girl probably thinks she looks beautiful, and Amane guesses her brother thinks so as well, but Amane thinks she looks like she's wearing a dust ruffle.
Speak now, or forever hold your peace.
Her brother would hate her if she were to tell that girl what's on her mind-- what makes you think he'll be loyal to you, when he's always had me? Losing him is the blackest thing she can imagine. She holds her tongue.