Ashes of the Phoenix

A Fanfiction by Wild Ceteruler

Disclaimer: All official Yu-Gi-Oh! GX characters & cards are property of VIZ, Shonen Jump, and Konami. All created cards belong to their creators!

Prologue

The night was warm and humid in downtown Domino City. The air seemed to cling to one's skin and the moon blazed in the sky like some giant lidless eye. Rounding the corner, a red-headed boy stopped, pausing to survey his surroundings.

He was rather short, a hair above 5'8", and was slim and muscular. His hair, an aforementioned blazing red, fiery you could call it, was slightly messy in a windblown way, with shaggy bangs that hung to his eyebrows. His eyes, by contrast, were a startling blue that seemed to be alight with mischievousness. He was dressed in a red t-shirt, white cargo pants, and red sneakers. Around his neck was a necklace with feathers that resembled those of an eagle, but were golden in color. Curiously, though it was hard to notice, tiny red-and-gold feathers grew at the base of his scalp, hidden by the locks of his hair. A faint but pleasant odor of cinnamon seemed to hang around him. Despite the heat, a black leather jacket covered his entire outfit. A small golden backpack swung from one shoulder, a small reddish colored bird forming the zipper.

Looking at the strangely empty streets, he scratched his head. "Well, Wren old boy, you seem to have gotten yeself lost. Again. That mist was thicker than I thought." Performing a quick spin, he noticed a small corner store with the OPEN sign still lit. Crossing the street, he entered the store and walked up to the counter.

The man behind it, a salt-and-pepper haired man who appeared to be in his mid-60s, looked up as Wren approached. "Well what can I do for you, young man?" he said. Smiling, causing his eyes to light up, Wren replied "Nothing much, sir, just some directions to the Duel Academy tryouts."

Now it was the old man's turn to smile now. "Oh, an upcoming duelist, are you?" His smile turned slightly wistful, and he seemed to be looking at something far away. "I used to duel a bit, don't you know. Was pretty good too, though I say so myself. But that was before…" His face darkened as he spoke. Then he shook himself and smiled, and it was like a shadow rose from him.

"Aah, but that's a story for another time. Anyway, in answer to your question, you're not too far from the site of the tryouts. Just take a left at the next light, and the building is at the end of the cul-de-sac. You can't miss it; it's the only 5-story one on that street."

Turning to look out the shop window, Wren peered at the traffic light about 50 feet down the street from the store. "Much obliged, sir," Wren said, shaking the man's hand, who smiled, causing crinkles to appear at the corners of his mouth. "No problem, son. Anything I can get you before you go?"

Looking around the small shop, Wren noticed the bottled soda display. "I'm a bit parched; I wouldn't mind one of those," he said, pointing at the cherry-flavored one. "That'll be $6.99 then." Digging through his pockets, Wren produced a $20 bill. "Here ye go. Keep the change, mate."

His eyes widening, the man tried to return the money. "I can't take this, son. It's far too much." Smiling again, Wren pushed the money right back. "Nonsense, sir! It's $7 for the pop and $13 for the for the directions, so it comes out to an even $20. Keep it, sir, or I'll consider it a personal insult."

Grinning, the old-timer took the money, opening the register to place the money inside. Then his face grew dark once more as he stared past Wren out the shop window. Turning to follow his gaze, Wren's eyebrow arched as he observed 3 teens striding towards the store. They were dressed in black bomber jackets, black jeans, black boots, and even black bandanas, upon which were painted multiple skull-and-crossbones.

"Who are these lot?" Wren asked, keeping his eyes on the suspicious trio. "They're part of a gang called, wonder of wonders, the Skulls. They've been hanging around here lately, waiting for a chance to rob me, but there have always been too many people or cops around to do it. Unlike now…Well, I've been waiting for them, and I'm prepared."

Reaching behind him, the man grabbed for a large 12-gauge shotgun. "Wait a tic, sir," Wren said, grasping his arm. "Let me see what I can do about them before you bring guns into the picture." Frowning, the man tried to shake Wren off. "What do you think you can do, son? It's 3 of them and 1 of you."

Flicking his hair from his eyes, Wren winked, a glint in his cerulean orbs. "There are more ways to handle punks than with a gun, mate." The man scowled, but he loosened his grip on the shotgun. "Alright, you go out and talk to them, son, but know that I'll be right behind you with a fully loaded 12-gauge, ready to back you up." Winking at him once more, Wren removed his backpack and grabbed up his soda. "I'll be back before ye know it."

Exiting the shop, he opened the bottle and took a quick swallow. Lounging casually against the wall, he watched as the trio of thugs approached. "Hey kid," the frontmost teen said, sneering at him. "Unless you wanna get blood on those white pants of yours, I suggest you make like a tree and leaf." Snickering, his comrades strode up to take their places slightly behind him.

Taking another swig, Wren sneered back as he swallowed. "Well, I'm having a fun day. I get to meet a bunch of sissies playing at being pirates, who tie their mums' kerchiefs on their heads and use overworn clichéd threats. I'm positively pissin' me pants."

The punks gaped in amazement that this cheeky kid had insulted their boss like that. Then their underpowered brains realized that he was insulting them as well, and they bristled with anger. The three of them surrounded Wren, producing switchblades from with their jackets, and a chorus of *snick*s filled the air.

"What did you say, kid?" the leader asked, leaning forward. Wren leaned forward as well, whispering the words into the thug's ear. "Nothing your mum didn't hear last night." The thug lashed out sharply, catching Wren in the mouth and splitting his lip.

"Any other smart remarks you'd like to make, jerkwad?" he said, as he and his cronies raised their knives menacingly. "Just one…" Wren replied, taking a mouthful of his pop. As he looked down, his hair overshadowed his eyes, hiding the fact that he was carefully studying the stances and positions of the thugs. 'Quick like flame, calm like air' he thought.

Without warning, he moved like lightning. He spat his mouthful of pop into the leader's face, blinding him for an instant, then gave him a quick headbutt that broke his nose and put him down. In the same movement, he sloshed the remaining pop in the bottle into the face of the thug to his right and blocked a clumsy slash from the left one on his thick jacket. Pivoting on his left foot, he smashed the bottle in his right hand into the back of the left thug's head, dropping him like a stone, and drove his right foot into the solar plexus of the right thug, lifting him from his feet and sending him a full 6 feet down the street.

Dropping into a ready stance, he listened to the moans of the trio until he was satisfied that none of them would be getting up. "…never underestimate yer opponent," he finished, wiping the blood off his now uncut mouth. Turning to face the store, he saw that the old man had followed him to the entrance and was standing openmouthed at what he'd just seen.

"How in the heck did you do that, son?" he said slowly. Wren merely gave him a thumbs up, grinning. "I told ye a gun wasn't needed!" he yelled. The man merely stared at him in wonder, but then his face froze in horror. "Look out!" he cried, pointing behind Wren.

Spinning on his right foot, Wren saw that the leader had regained his feet and was now pointing a large silver pistol at him. Grinning through bloodstained teeth, he began to squeeze the trigger. At that moment, Wren began to move. The world seemed to slow around him as he did, becoming blurred and hazy.

The gun jerked once, then once again, both times slow enough that Wren could see the bullets coming at him. Dodging around the first, he somersaulted over the second, landing in a roll for a split-second. As soon as his feet were beneath him, he pushed off the ground with them, soaring at least 3 feet up and forward.

The thug was slowly pointing the gun up at him, but Wren was too fast for that. Bringing his left fist down, he smashed it into the thug's jaw, fracturing it. Landing in a crouch, he spun on his right foot, sweeping the punk's legs from under him, then rose gracefully to his feet as the thug fell slowly backward.

Using both hands, Wren shoved out with them, hitting the thug's ribs with enough power to crack 5 of them and send a ripple of force throughout his body. As Wren returned to normal speed, the thug flew 15 feet across the street, landed on the opposite sidewalk with a crunch, bounced once, and slid 3 more feet before he finally lay still.

All this took about 4 seconds to accomplish.

Not the slightest bit out off breath, Wren turned around in time to see the old man slide down the doorjamb, his face contorted in pain and his hand pressed to his side. "Hey!" Wren yelled, sprinting forward just in time to catch him. "What's wrong?"

Lifting his hand away, the man revealed that it was red with blood. "Second bullet…grazed me…" he gritted out. Lifting the side of his shirt, Wren saw that the bullet had actually gone straight through the old man's side, probably nicking an artery, judging from the amount of blood that was spurting from it.

Propping the man against the doorjamb, he ran back onto the street, searching until he found what he was looking for: A switchblade, abandoned by the thugs, who had apparently disappeared into the night. 'Bugger' he thought. 'Í wish it didn't have to come to this, but it has…'

Grabbing it up, he returned to the old man, who was groaning in agony. "Hey, hey, hey! Sir, I need ye to focus right now! Don't close your eyes! Um…what's your name?" Glancing at him through pain-filled eyes, the man managed to gasp out "Otto…I'm Otto…"

Examining his side again, Wren replied "Ok Otto, I'm Wren. It's right nice to make your acquaintance, though I wish it had been under different circumstances. I'm going to take care of ye, Ok? Just don't panic! What I'm about to do will seem weird, but don't panic, got it?"

Otto nodded his assent, and Wren cut a patch from his shirt and stuffed it into his mouth. "Bite down on that," he advised. "This is gonna hurt…" Lifting the switchblade, he steadied himself, then sliced it across his palm. Crimson blood welled up from the laceration, bringing pain with it, but he paid the pain no mind. Instead, he clenched his hand into a fist and began to dribble the blood into the gunshot wound.

Otto threw his head back and groaned around the cloth, his teeth sinking into it as the wound began to smoke and burn. After about 7 seconds, Wren stopped and reexamined it. The edges had begun to bubble and smoke, and then, with a golden flash, the hole shrunk and sealed with no trace, save the blood around it and the slight pinkness of the new skin.

Checking the other side and finding the same result, he then checked his hand. The remaining blood in his palm swirled and spun, then was sucked back beneath his skin. With the same golden flash as before, his hand was whole and unmarked once more.

Helping the old man to his feet, Wren watched as he spit out the cloth, working his jaw. Feeling his side, his eyes widened as he felt no wound and no pain. Turning to Wren, he started to ask "How did you -" but Wren cut him off. "To be honest, Otto, I'm not really sure of that meself. I don't know where any of it, the speed, the strength, any of it comes from. Ye can't tell anyone about what you saw here tonight, though. If the bobbies question ye, just tell them I fought them off and left, OK?"

Otto considered it for a second, then nodded. Then he began to chuckle. "Heh, the way you took down those punks was amazing. I nearly missed it, you were so fast!" Grinning himself, Wren followed him back into the shop. "Really? I thought I was a bit slow, actually!"

Once inside, Otto handed him his backpack, which he shrugged back on. Shaking Wren's hand once more, he shook his head. "You're a strange young man, Wren, and I mean that as a compliment in every sense of the word. Good luck to you tomorrow. I hope that you make your way to Duel Academy and work hard there to make your parents proud of you, wherever they are."

Missing the spasm of pain that crossed Wren's face, Otto clapped him on the shoulder. "Can I offer you a place to stay for the night? This isn't the friendliest part of Domino, and the tryout building doesn't open till tomorrow." Shaking his head, Wren winked at him once more. "No worries, Otto, I'll be alright. All I need is a place to lay me head down and I'll be right as rain, though maybe you can help me out in another way." His face grew long as he spoke. "I'm headed to Duel Academy, but…I don't have a deck."

Behind the counter, Otto suddenly fell out comically. Dragging himself up using the counter for balance, he glared at Wren. "What? No deck? How do expect to obtain a ticket to the island when you won't even be able to pass the entrance duel?" Rubbing his head sheepishly, Wren looked at the floor as he shrugged. "I hadn't had a chance to before, and I guess I forgot all about it when I got here."

Grasping the counter to keep from falling out again, Otto looked at the sky, muttering to himself. "He moves like a bloody ninja, but he forgets the 2nd most important part of a duelist…" Wren swung his arms in embarrassment, then asked "Do you know of any card shops nearby where I can buy at least a starter deck?" Otto gazed at him shrewdly as he replied "Sure I do, but they're all on the other side of town, and I mean the far side."

Wren's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Then he straightened, staring out the window at the fog that had begun to roll in again. "I guess I'll just have to keep a stiff upper lip and walk there. I can't go to the tryouts tomorrow with no deck, so there's not much else I can do."

A gleam entered Otto's eye as Wren turned to the door. 'I was right,' he thought. 'He is the one…' "However," he continued, causing Wren to stop and face him. "I do believe that I can still provide you with some cards…"

Turning, Otto rummaged in a cupboard behind the counter, moving various odds and ends out of the way, before spinning back around. In his hands were two objects, both of which flashed with a reddish hue. One was a red medium-sized box and the other was a duelist's belt with a red deck pouch on one side. Both the box and the pouch were emblazoned with a golden stylized phoenix, its wings curling around the sides of the two containers. A shiver ran down Wren's spine as he gazed at it.

Otto placed the two items on the counter, smiling at Wren's expression. "I've never even considered selling these, much less show them to anyone. These were my cards back in the old days." He slid them towards Wren. "Now…they're yours."

Opening his mouth in protest, Wren was cut off as Otto raised his hand. "Nonsense, you've earned it for saving my life and my store. Besides," he said, grinning, "I can't let you walk into the tryouts and make a fool out of yourself."

Opening the box, he pulled out the large pile of cards and began to shuffle them at lightning speed. Wren whistled in admiration as the cards flew back and forth, left and right, up and down, even behind his back! With a flourish, Otto gathered them all back into his hand and replaced them in the box.

Lifting the belt, he slung it over to Wren, who caught it and buckled it on, then handed the weighty box to him. "Go triumph, Wren. Use that deck to win and advance, and when you're a big celebrity, come back and see old Otto."

Wren didn't know what to say, so he simply nodded in thanks. With a quick wave, he exited the shop and headed into the mist in the direction of the traffic light. Smiling, Otto shook his head as he watched him punch his fist at the sky. "If only your father could see you now…"

ooo

Walking down the street, Wren could barely contain his excitement. He had a deck at last. He performed a quick somersault off a nearby light pole and whooped. He could hardly wait to examine his new cards. Then a frown creased his brow, as a thought crossed his mind. 'I hope that these cards can work with her; not many cards can properly.' As he thought, he felt the card-shaped case in his pocket once more. That case contained the most prized possession: a single card that held the key to the entire life.

Looking up, he noticed that he had reached the traffic light. Turning left, he walked until he reached the building that the tryouts would be held in. '5 stories, just like Otto said' he thought. Looking around, he made sure he was alone, then he tensed his legs…and jumped!

The 3 foot jump he'd made earlier was nothing compared to this. He soared upwards, landing on the roof easily. Yawning, he stretched and surveyed the roof. It was sparse and bare, with not even stairs to the floor beneath to mar it. Removing his backpack, he laid it down like a pillow and stretched out with it under his head. For a second, he simply stared up at the stars, picking out constellations here and there.

Then he opened his new box and took out some of his new cards. 'I might as well study some of these before I turn in. I'll need a strategy before the tryouts tomorrow if I want to pass my entrance duel and get my ticket to Duelist Academy.' Flipping through the cards, he blinked as he read the titles and descriptions.

'Want a bloody minute' he thought. 'I've never heard of these cards before…All of them seem to be related to…' His eyes widened, and he felt his pocket again. 'But if they are, how could Otto know?' Resolving to ask him about it tomorrow, he resumed studying his cards.

Yawning again, he reached for more cards when he felt something inside the box that he hadn't noticed before. Pulling it out, he gasped as he saw that it was the $20 bill he'd given to Otto! The cheeky old man had slipped it in among the cards during his shuffling routine.

Wren couldn't help but chuckle as he put the $20 in his pocket and pulled more cards from their box. "Cheeky old man…"he muttered to the cards and the stars.

-End-