Main Couples/shippings featured in this story include:

Joey x Mai, Yugi x Tea, Atem x Mana, Seto x Kisara (Kiara)

"And as the years have passed, the time has grown longer. The sad truth is that what I could recall in five seconds all too needed ten, then thirty, then a full minute - like shadows lengthening at dusk. Someday, I suppose, the shadows will be swallowed up in darkness."
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

El Minya, Egypt

1942

Beretta pistols. Carcano rifles. Lewis machine guns. Anti-tank rifles and stick grenades. All stolen from the military- far too preoccupied with defending the coast at El Alamein- to be used in a war of a different kind. They did not defend against the advancing Axis forces, nor did they have the support of the nation. This was a secret war. Gruesomely secret. But they had to win. They had to put an end to this monster's reign, regain control over this creature.

Another one of his brothers went down beside him. How many had that been now? Seven? Eight? He couldn't look back. He couldn't see all that again, though the noise of the slaughter was clear enough that he might as well have been watching. The shadows carve up his brother's skin like heinous architecture; starting from the tip of the toe to the barren scalp. Blood would seep through the incisions, coloring in the lines, until the artist's hand slips... ripping the paper... the chest. Cutting it from inside like they'd been trying to scissor a paper snowflake. It was that simple, though bursts of human viscera and the liquids of lineage were theatrical all the while.

Baba told him to shoot. Don't look at her, don't think of her- just shoot her. And if the shadows came for you too, Baba said to run. Run back to the dig site. But whatever you do, don't go near the tombs. She'd be guarding that best; probably already had it welded up in a realm of darkness where those creatures were sure to lie. Those dragons, those ghouls, those hungry, wicked beasts. This woman, this thing; she could summon them at any time. To reach you when she can not, to pin you down when she is too fragile, and that they shadows may swallow you whole. They'd already taken Giddo Abdul-Khabir, tore through Mahmoud and more brothers to come, but still they roamed. Unsatisfied in their kills.

He kept running, even now that there was no one left by his side. He'd run out of ammo. Not that the bullets had slowed her down any. The earth vomitted great spews of dirt and sand whenever a grenade hit or a missile was shoved aside by the darkness. A helicopter flew over once, trying to navigate between the black of night and black of the demoness. But he couldn't say how long it lasted, for he didn't see it again after it tempted the crazed woman. But she looked with a look he'd never wanted to see. Dead inside and out, silvery yellowed eyes that didn't ask questions, didn't think. Rotted. Decayed. And naked but for the remains of tattered, brittle wraps.

Baba said run. Just run. Forget the gun- it'd slow his little legs down. Baba said pray- pray between a heavy heartbeat or whenever there was breath. Baba said don't look behind you. Just run. He was going to put her her back in the tombs where she belonged. Maybe the shadows weren't worth it. Worth the loss of his family. So his legs pushed hard, as hard as they could. Little tears jolted and bounced everywhere over his face. The speed of his flee would have to be enough. Baba stayed behind, mounting the rocket-launcher over his great shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, Neferamunankhset."

Modern Day...

"Everything has to be perfect!" Minako ordered.

She didn't know how many times she'd said it, but it was enough to put fear into the hearts of everyone who worked for her. No one dared question the heiress' authority. Everyone went straight to work at her commands; her assistant flitting around her iPad and calculating prices, the planners presenting designs in every shape, shade, and size, the manager rearranging his schedule and trying to bargain with the teen billionaire. Someone would have to find a way to hide the wiring for the lights. Or else. Someone would have to block off the entrance to the kitchen without it looking like some hideous, cheap blockade. Or else. Someone would have to fix the windows, the floor, and repaint the walls. And everyone hoped that that someone was not them. It didn't matter that her sweet-sixteen was still months away- if Minako Kaiba wanted it, Minako Kaiba would get it. Or else.

The assistant was a gaunt, droopy configuration of a woman in her mid-twenties. Her once bountiful blonde hair was compiled into a tired bun, strands flopping every which way. Working under someone as difficult as Minako could age someone far quicker than most. She shook like an old glass window in a storm standing beside her fifteen year-old boss. That thought alone was hardly bearable, and she often questioned how she came to such a job. Minako, on the other hand, was a tall, brazen beauty. Armed with her father's harsh, sleek blue eyes, her glares would demand obedience. Long trails of brunette locks paced around the curves of her slender frame, and shaped her face with ruffled bangs. And there was nothing she took more pride and passion in than the designer labels hugging her body.

"Miss Kaiba, um," the assistant began hesitantly, "the venue owner would like to know how many guests you're expecting to attend. One or two hundred, I presume?"

"One or two hundred…" the Kaiba girl narrowed her eyes. "One or two hundred? Are you kidding me? I had two hundred sixty-seven at my last party, and that was when I was just turning fifteen. Hello! This is my sweet-sixteen we're talking about! You think that the biggest party Domino has seen in years is only going to have one or two hundred people?"

"No, no! Of course not! I just.. I…"

"You were just going to fix that math of yours before I felt like firing someone."

"Yes, ma'am."

Minako sighed tediously. How difficult was it to understand such simple things? Everyone knew that the Kaiba family held only the best parties- from opening events to birthdays. Anything less than perfect was inexcusable. Her parties honored, if not raised the bar, of those very traditions. It was no surprise to Minako that whenever her birthday came around, suddenly everyone would want to be her friend again.

Two suits approached with fumbling papers. They were perfectly groomed and dressed as if to state their worth to Minako. Hopefully their slicked hair and their Ralph Lauren fragrance would keep them in business, and away from her scrutiny.

"Miss Kaiba," the first one began, "here are the seating plans you asked for. Now, we'll need to make a couple of revisions since your numbers are not yet exact. But for those that we do know are coming, such as your honored guests, where would you prefer they sit?"

Minako briskly eyed the charts, the design of the biggest night of her life.

"Near the stage, of course. I want them to light the candles so they have to have an easy way up. You know, so they don't trip over tables and light my night on fire."

"Yes. And your cousin Haru Kaiba?"

"Nearest to the right. He's the most important, so he'll sit beside me." she huffed like the answer were oh-so obvious. Anyone important would sit next to her.

"Oh. Then where shall your father be seated?"

The man fell back, questioning his own judgment and the heiress' countenance. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so bold in asking that. Minako blinked rapidly, her brows creasing into some arched dismay. For a moment she simply stood with the words drying on her tongue. It hadn't really occurred to her, at least, not in a conscious manner. She just… never thought much about where her father would sit at her own birthday celebration, what special ceremony he would partake in, what he'd wear or what he'd say. But that was because after fifteen- soon-to-be sixteen- years, the answer had become a sort of mundane routine.

"He won't be coming." she said.

Lola couldn't help but notice Minako that day. On any normal day, she wouldn't have cared if that stuck-up Kaiba brat showed up with a face tattoo and nipple piercings. It was just so strange not to hear snapping at one of the other popular girls on break. She treated her friends like absolute garbage, but they seemed to just allow it. There wasn't even the usual gossip between them all that day; making fun of someone's outfit at the party last weekend, how they could not believe so-and-so was talking with so-and-so, making steamy jokes about how sexy Dagan Devlin was, so on and so on. Minako instead sat by and listened to her friends blather on around her; uninterested, and vacant in presence. She wasn't even ogling her phone like she usually would.

Lola was sitting at the other side of the classroom with the Muto twins; Howard and Carter. Duel Monsters was already laid out over the desks they had pushed together. This time the winner would get the goods from their mere commoner brown-bagged lunches. And even still, Lola wasn't comfortable without the sneer of Minako slugging her from across the room. She never thought it was bullying, but more like a habit. They had always loathed each other, perhaps they were born to. At first, they didn't need any more reason other than that Lola was a Wheeler and Minako was a Kaiba. Their back and forth mudslinging was mere sport, and plenty fun. Maybe they didn't even know it was hate. But it was one night over last year's spring break that forever branded their disdain into something pure, something real. Lola would never forgive Minako. That she was sure of.

"Something's up with her." she started without remembering why she'd decided to say it out loud.

"Huh? Who?" Howard could hardly be deterred from his game. This time he would beat his brother. This time for sure.

"Minnie." she spat. "I mean, she hasn't threatened to kick me off the cheerleading team once today. Does that not raise any flags?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting, Lola? Just a little? I'm sure she's fine, as if you cared either way."

"Yeah. Plus, if she hears her name out of your mouth again, I don't want another repeat of cat-fight incident from last year's Toronto Tournament. So, do you think, for just a moment, you could talk about something else?" Carter chimed in after his twin, flipping over another sure-fire trap card.

"For the love of-! I hate it when you do that." Howard tried to laugh through his frustration. He swiped a hand past his golden bangs, brushing into the spiky layers of chocolate hair the twins had inherited from their mother.

Carter admired the fire in his brother, that determination to win. So even in his victorious grin, he couldn't keep even a miniscule amount of arrogance over his reflection of a brother. It was the very same grin and respect that they'd learned from their father.

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." Carter teased gently.

Lola shook her head with a laugh. Her friends were the geekiest, most kind-hearted creatures to ever roam the halls of Domino High. The twins laughed at their own jokes, defended complete strangers from childish bullies, and sat in the back of the class talking about trading cards and how much homework they could squeeze in during commercial breaks of their favorite history shows. Sometimes Lola wondered what her role was around them. To be the impetuous badass trying to get them to spray-paint the guard rails by the parking lot? Make a mess upon that innocence? The worst trouble the twins could ever get in on their own was missing a homework assignment. Lola, however, had at least six fights on her school record- if she counted correctly- and a couple of misdemeanors. And still that was nothing compared to her older brother, Jacob Wheeler.

She couldn't think about him, though. Not while in the same room with Minako. No matter how dearly she missed him, she wasn't ready to go back to that spring break night. Lola knew she wouldn't be able to handle it if she replayed it over in her head. Jacob had graduated two years ago, but that hadn't healed any of the wounds.

This time when Lola turned around, the prima-donna's eyes were ready and waiting. They shared a jagged look, as if Minako too had been thinking about the same thing. And suddenly it all collapsed. Each one harpooned the other with an almighty scowl. The classroom was gone, the gossip was hushed. They could have fought. Yes. Right then and there. Even if security was roaming the halls, even if there were other students around. They could have leapt over the desks, their fists hungry for the other's face. They totally could have. For Jacob. For hate. Anything to get rid of the image of the beach house, Mokuba Kaiba's expression as he passed through the door, or a sweaty and drained Jacob in handcuffs.

But they didn't. They simply simmered in their seats. Minako fell back into the mist of her friends' cackles and perfume. Lola drifted back to the game of Duel Monsters on the desks, to Howard and to Carter.

Cheerleading practice was going to be hell.

She had to get out of there. Soon. That night. Right then. She didn't know if she could take much more. The others would be home soon, so it was now or never. She had always known there was a world outside the Tawfiq's conservative home, but was never able to grab hold of it. Something was always in the way; the locks on the windows, the obnoxious orchestra of creaks and bells around the doors, the maze of cots spread along the floor where her brothers and sisters would sleep. Someone would wake if she tried to escape. Someone would hear her, see her. Someone would tell Om or Baba. Then she would get the belt again.

Her wrists burned at the thought.

But then, she thought, how would she make it in a world she'd only ever seen in a textbook? Did she truly want to run away, or would she grow to love this life again like Om predicted? She couldn't quite say that the Tawfiqs had been cruel to her. In fact, life had been good. They'd given her a home, food to keep her filled, extensive lessons to keep her enraptured and dynamic. Because of them, she could be a gymnast in her own living room, a gourmet chef in the kitchen, an Einstein in the conversations during dinner. Om had no problem hiring dance or language teachers to come to the home for the children. But how was all that useful if she couldn't go farther than the backyard?

"One day," Baba Tawfiq would say, "one day you can walk to the horizon."

Baba had always left it at that. Every time it was "one day". Her brothers would later chime in, a horrid snicker plaguing their otherwise gentle faces.

"Yes, banafsegy girl, one day you can leave. One day when the sun does not rise and the birds do not sing."

That one day had yet to come. Seventeen years and she was still waiting for that one, single day. She understood more and more that it was all a lie. Om and Baba would never let her go. One day she would marry a man of equal beliefs as the Tawfiqs, and then he would promise her a day when she could walk to the horizon. But he, too, would never let her go.

She turned to the window. Being the youngest meant her cot was the farthest from everything but the loathsome bathroom. The window was on the other side of the room where the boys slept. But it was her favorite place in the closed, plaster world she knew. Because outside there was a sun setting on the horizon she'd only walked to in her dreams. Outside, there was a river sprinkled with the colors of its celestial mirror. Oranges and peaches, dazed violets and giggling blues. Somewhere among the vibrant rays and the twinkling river, that "one day" was waiting. Calling. A self she never knew, the person she was meant to be, was out there somewhere.

Yes. She had to get out of there. That night. Right then. Pharah knew it all too well in her heart.

"Stay tight! Lock that knee, Wheeler! Where the hell are your hands? Look at them! Why are they way out in no-man's land? Arabesque to scale, to scorpion- five, six, seven, eight!"

Lola squeezed in all her muscles, centering her weight in the bases' hands. Yet no matter how clean she tried to stand in the air, her natural instincts to sway her arms for balance kept striking up. Her foot was awkwardly positioned in the hands of her bases and she could feel their muscles tiring beneath her.

"Ugh. I can't look at this anymore." Minako pinched the bridge of her nose, "Bring her down."

Lola stumbled before the bases could even pop her for the cradle. She swooped down straight into the back-spot's catch. Everyone in the stunt group was breathing hard. Sweat glued their hairs down to their foreheads and dampened their tees to a point of discomfort. But Minako wasn't finished with them yet. She didn't care in the least how tired they were. That's why they were at practice, right? To build stamina? To get better? To be her anger management toys?

"What in the world was that, Wheeler? Why didn't you pull anything up there?"

Lola was not going to have this. Not today.

"I wasn't sturdy! I'm not going to pull an arabesque or scorpion up there when my foot is wiggling all over the place."

"Oh. Is that so? Well, what if your foot isn't sturdy at competition, huh? What if your bases are nervous when they put you up and the music is still going? You're just going to stand there in a lib and look like a bigger idiot than usual?"

"It's better than my falling on my face and the team losing a whole ten points, 'aint it?"

"I don't know, I think your face could use a good hit. Maybe it'll knock you pretty one day."

"Minnie," one of the other cheerleaders piped in, "please. Give her a break. She's trying really hard and we're all tired, you know. Practice was supposed to end an hour ago."

With a smirk, Minako clasped her hands innocently. She shook her head as if asking why these people were talking to her like they were on the same level.

"I'm sorry, I fail to see the relevance of your argument. We are a competitive cheerleading squad. Domino High has won three national championships and several bids to attend the Worlds competition. And, honestly, you look horrible. This right here- this wobbly, messy, train wreck of a routine- is not going to get us any trophies. As of right now, there is no point in signing us up for any competitions. An extra hour of practice everyday is not going to hurt you. And perhaps it wouldn't even be an hour if some people just hit the stunt when they were supposed to."

Lola was one of the few people who stood up to tyrants like Minako. It was a Wheeler thing. She flung her arms down and marched straight up to Minako, ready to pound a good one into her perfectly glossed lips.

"You need to back the fuck up before things get out of hand. Just because you had a bad day, princess, does not mean you get to take it out on me and this team. I trust these girls and I've seen them cheer better than you could imagine. We'll hit our shit at competition. Watch us."

"Are you threatening me, Wheeler?" Minako narrowed her eyes. Lola stepped up a little closer, their faces so near they could feel the fire.

"Do you feel threatened?"

Everyone held their breath. Clearly neither of the girls were willing to back down. The rest of the team looked on in anticipation, ready for hair to go flying, for claws to start scratching. It was only the two raps upon the wrestling room doors that prevented an all out brawl. Minako's limousine driver slid gently in. His suit and tie was incredibly harsh against the beaten old mats and the gymnasium atmosphere.

"Miss Kaiba. Your uncle awaits in the limousine."

"Very well." she sighed condescendingly and without taking her eyes from her prey. "Ashley, you're in charge. I want the last two eight-counts to the dance changed. Now. And don't make them ugly. Also, go over the cheer. You sound like you're singing it. It's annoying. Chop the words, and add interjections. Assign people to say them if you must, so long as they're there."

"Yes, Minnie. C'mon, girls."

Minako shoved her way past everyone, tossing her Dolce & Gabbana purse over her shoulder. Lola watched her leave with daggering eyes. She could not believe- absolutely could not- that a person could be so evil and conniving. Lola believed every exaggerated tale her father told about Seto Kaiba simply because she could see that bitterness passed down to Minako.

Mokuba Kaiba was nearly approaching his thirties. His hair was more tame than it had been in his childhood. He kept it collected back into a low, handsome tie. His shoulders had broadened, his face had chiseled away into a sharp, grown man's. Yet there was another in the limousine whose features were very resembling to his own. Haru Kaiba, his son and Minako's cousin. He was less outgoing than Minnie, of course, in almost all manners. He was locked in his school uniform from some place that raised technological geniuses. Haru was, simply, just that. He was often awkward away from a computer screen, and bore that same frail, hopeful light that his father had. The two were close, no doubt- Haru and Mokuba. That was the only reason Minako had for being jealous of her cousin. If Mokuba were her father, his name would sure as hell be on the seating chart for her sweet sixteen.

"Hey, Minnie." Haru nodded.

"Hey." she took a turn kissing her uncle's cheek and then her cousin's. "What are you guys doing here? I thought you wouldn't be back until Christmas."

"Change of plans. Haru's school has off these next two weeks and we decided to come back and see you guys. We missed you." Mokuba smiled warmly. Minako loved that about her uncle. The surprises, the smiles, the bond he could form with just about anyone he met; it was so different from her father.

"I missed you too."

Something about the way she'd said it made Mokuba tilt his head. It sounded so earnest and yet like she were trying to cage everything up. A masked plea for help.

"What's wrong, Min?"

"Hm? Nothing. Why?"

"You just… you sounded sad to me."

"Sad? No, not even. It's just that you have no idea how boring it's been."

End Chapter

Thank you so much for reading

So this is my newest story, please review and and all that jazz if you'd like. Much appreciated.