Hey, this is GuineaFeathers. Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! (Obviously). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. I will continue this story if anyone shows any interest in what would happen next.

Blasts rang out through the city and everywhere there was a rumble of buildings crumbling, being pounded down until all that was left was a pile of rubble where a once proud metropolis had stood. This was nothing new. It had been years since the markets had buzzed with life, since people walked the streets without fear, and since the first attack removed even the idea of a safe school or a clean hospital.

It had been years since those…creatures had invaded.

People still lived in the city, if such an existence can be called life. They hid during the day. They foraged food at night. They did everything they could to survive. Attempting to leave would have them in the open for too long. Trying to find help would keep them away from the places that had not been destroyed yet, leaving them stranded in the barren war zone that held no safe haven.

They had once been normal, had jobs, families, lives. Now they were mere remnants of the people they once had been. When that first strike hit the city, it had forever changed them.

This night, moving slowly from building to building, a boy, about fifteen, carefully on the look-out for anyone else. In this time of chaos, even a piece of paper blowing down the sidewalk would make him jump. He knew the risk that each of them faced when they ventured out at night, even for the most basic necessities. Tonight, he had been lucky. He had managed to find a long abandoned store that had not yet been scavenged. He had grabbed as many cans of food as he could. Even knowing that on the faded labels were expiration dates that had long since passed, he rejoiced at the find. After so long, they were lucky to find anything, let alone armfuls of preserved cans.

He counted down in his head each street he passed, knowing exactly how many were left until he would return home. 3. A vandalized street sign was above him. He did not remember what it had said. 2. There was no sign here. Excitement sped through him as the small boy saw the last street before he reached his home. Just as he was about to round a corner, he heard a noise. There was someone else there. It was nothing that would have caught a normal person's attention, but it was there. He had heard it. His excitement evaporated in an instant. He had been caught. Maybe someone was playing a sick game with him. Allowing him to find so much precious food, only to have everything ripped out from under him.

He attempted to summon up all the energy inside of him, and to make himself stop shaking so that he could perform the actions needed to escape. He turned to face the sound…but saw nothing. There was no monster there to blast him to shreds. No enemy there to imprison him, turn him into their slave. He stared into the shadows for a moment. He saw the putrid dumpster that had long since been abandoned. The rotting remains of garbage festered there and no one dared go near it for fear that they would contract some disease.

It must have been the wind, he thought. As though to confirm his suspicions, a breeze ripped past him, making him shiver. He frowned and stared at the sky. It was black. He could feel rather than see the rolling clouds above him, blocking the moon and the stars from view, and threatening to unleash a thrashing torrent upon them. He knew it would be bad, for he could feel the electricity in the air. He needed to hurry. It would not be long now.

He took a cautious step towards safety. No sooner had he placed his foot on the ground, a groan ripped through the night. His head whipped around. He was sure of it this time, there was no doubt about it, someone was there. Letting the energy pour from his body, he stepped, ever so cautiously, towards the dumpster. He held his breath, his eyes watering at the stench. Carefully, he raised his hand, grasped the lid, and, summoning every bit of fighting spirit he could, flung it back. What he saw there was the last thing he expected.

Lying, half covered in garbage, surrounded by flies, was a boy. From what he could see, he realized that this boy could not have been more than a year or two older than himself. The boy was also undeniably unconscious. He could not be dead, for if he was dead he wouldn't have moaned a moment ago.

He needed to get home, that was certain. It would be morning soon, and sunrise would make him visible to those…things again. He looked around hurriedly. This boy was injured, blood clotted in his hair and on his clothes. Where was his family? How had he survived this long only to be beaten and left here? A rain drop hit his nose. He looked up, only to have another fall onto his forehead. The storm was here. He looked back at the boy, knowing he couldn't leave him.

Breathing in and out slowly, trying to think clearly, he realized that he would have to choose. He could either save himself and let the boy stay here, bleeding, in the rain, where he would either die or be found the next day, or he could sacrifice all the precious nourishment which his find had earlier that night had offered him and take this boy with him.

"Damn it!" he muttered. He quietly placed the cans on the ground and began pulling the boy out. It was a slow process. The boy was taller and heavier than he himself could manage on a refugee's diet, so navigating him safely out of the dumpster without jostling his already battered frame was challenging to say the least. It took him several moments to manage it. By now the rain had begun pounding gently around him. It would not be long now.

He hoisted the boy up so that his arm was around his shoulder and began to drag him towards safety. His could feel his muscles ache in protest. From beside his ear he heard another low groan and felt the boy stir. Looking over, he saw that the boys eyes had opened, and he gazed, unfocused, towards an arbitrary spot on the ground in front of them. After a few seconds he seemed to regain some of his facilities. He panicked, trying to push the smaller boy away from him.

"It's okay! I'm a friend," the small boy whispered hurriedly, placing a calming hand on the other's shoulder. "You can trust me."

This had the desired effect. The other boy sagged back into him, possibly too exhausted to argue.

"Friend," he croaked. He seemed puzzled by this word, as though something in it did not add up.

"Yes. I'm a friend. My name is Yugi."

"Yugi…friend," the taller boy breathed as his eyelids fluttered shut.

He did not stir again as Yugi finished dragging him the last few steps towards his home. As he shut the door tightly behind him, he heard the first crash of thunder and the pounding of the storm that had finally arrived.