A/N: Grandpa compares Yugi's eyes to a traditional colour for kimonos, bellflower (kikyō-iro).
His grandson was beautiful.
Those chubby eyes hadn't opened in days, too concerned with blocking out the light. His mother had only laughed, pointing out how the boy's tiny fingers were busy grasping away at everything within reach, pawing in that awkward way all children had when they're investigating something.
So he hadn't minded, content to have his free hand and beard tugged in curiosity. Most days he ended up handing the infant back to his mother covered in some sort of mess or another.
It was only a week later that he received his first surprise in a long, long time.
"Dad! Yugi's opened his eyes!"
He had stumbled over to the playroom in an excited rush. A voice murmuring in the back of his mind, sounding far too much like his own grandmother, was quietly reminding him of the stories of precisely what kind of children were that opened their eyes so late after birth.
It was quiet enough, however, that he could push the disturbing thoughts away.
Though he had just clambered up a flight of stairs, the sight that met him was what stole his breath away.
Brilliantly bellflower eyes stared back at him from his grandson's face.
"Can I hold him?" He croaked, suddenly feeling every one of his fifty-five years. His arms were trembling, and his daughter-in-law gave him a concerned look before he gestured for the child to be transferred to his hold.
Yugi, now gazing at him calmly, giggled. Probably at my expression, he thought faintly, running a calloused finger gently over a curved cheek. The small babe squirmed at the touch, voicing his displeasure at the tickling feeling.
He absently smoothed away the sensation, pleasing the child in his arms. The child's hair was messy, likely from playing around with his mother and avoiding being fed. Already he was showing his true colours.
Flitting about like a mischievous little thing, the old man thought fondly, You're a Mouto, alright. I bet you'll be a good gambler, too, rile your mother into a right fit.
As if hearing the thoughts, a grin came over Yugi, and he babbled excitedly, waving his small arms about. He smiled, the expression abruptly sliding off his face as he was struck with a memory.
He struggled to keep his grip on the sharp sandstone, panting as the tear in his back his "fellow" colleague gave him protested sharply. Briefly, he closed his eyes, not daring to utter a prayer in this particular tomb. A breeze rustled his clothes, threatening to take his hat right off his head, and he grunted in the effort it took to not sway with it.
Unfortunately, his feet could find no purchase in the worn edges of the giant blocks. For a moment he wondered if his wife would go to the temples for him. He thought she might, if only to scold his spirit so thoroughly his ears burned in shame.
His lips pulled into a regretful grin. It would be worth it, though, he mused - he had finally found someone crazy enough to put up with his sorry, adventuring ass. The thought passed by that at least he would stick around to look after their son as the lad grew up.
Just as he was losing himself to his memories, the air grew heavy. He sucked in a breath, heart fluttering in nervous anticipation. It was time to find out if there was anything in this tomb, after all.
Looking up, his vision was blinded with a strange light. Someone was standing up there! He gaped in shock, fingers almost loosening and sending him plummeting into the abyss below. No, it can't be…
But, indeed, it was. Up above him stood a man, garbed in ancient clothes and haloed in an unearthly light. He gulped, even as the man chuckled warmly, kneeling down and extending a hand.
"Siamun. It is good to see you again."
That face was one he would never forget.
Blinking, he was brought back into the present by the concerned tones of his son's wife. He shook his head, shifting the child in his arms easily so as to sit in the vacated rocking chair. Yugi cooed appreciatively at the lulling motion.
Fingers untangling the blonds locks that had managed to enmesh themselves into the silky red-black hair that served as a background to his grandson's bangs, he chuckled, pressing a swift kiss to the child's forehead. As much as his grandson looked like him, he couldn't deny that he was looking at a near replica of the Nameless Pharaoh.
It looked like those old stories his grandmother told him when he was but a child would prove that his descendant would have quite the interesting life. Hopefully he would live long enough to accompany him on those rocky roads.
After all, who said these old bones couldn't take one more adventure?