Come on, Yusei, we don't have all day.
Shut up already, Rai... I thought I heard something behind...
Will you two cut it out already! You-
A screeching sound put a sudden halt to the boys' bickering.
Oof, how lucky we got away from there! Takashi was panting hard. I swear that last semi was almost a... so-
Yusei interrupted the boy with a rapid smack on the head, much to the latter one's dismay. Solids don't exist any more! And thats a good thing too! They would kill us all if they spotted us!
They DO exist , Rai said quietly but with infinite certainty. Four eyes stared distrustfully - indignantly - at the boy, but he did not care at all. What had happened already was a thing of the past, yesterday's news. What mattered now was not the danger they had escaped. What mattered now was how to divide the loot.
I'm home , Rai said to his mother, who had just awoken, sitting in her rocking chair. Her tendency to abruptly fall asleep had been getting worse lately. Rai threw a glance on the digital clock to confirm his estimate which had been quite accurate. It was 2 AM. Nighttime... Rai thought, reminiscing. How many years had it been since he had seen the moon and stars. The overground world. The memories were almost gone... sometimes resurfacing in dreams inevitably turning into nightmares each time.
The sounds of animals. Trees. The blue sky. Warmth. Mother, a smile lighting on her face. The years underground had not yet worn her down. Namio often crept in the flashes of things past also, even though, of course, she did not belong. Not the cheerful Namio from the photograph, but a solemn, thoughtful one. Thunder. Fire falling from the sky. Loud noises and covering under tables. Going underground... the last view of the world above, of what now was all gone. Nothing but debris, radiation... and them. The last image always the same... The One. His presence staggering... a titan revolting against the gods. Whispering... something. Something just for the ears of Rai. Rai.
Rai!
The twelve-year old needed a moment to orient himself before he realised that it had happened again. The blank. It was always the same... it was the reason he needed to keep his thoughts straight. A memento of the cataclysm. He had learned to live with it.
It was 8 AM now, but that did not matter, of course. The electric light was keeping the darkness at bay. The boy got up from his bed. He had not taken off his clothes or even his shoes. He suddenly grasped urgently at his pocket.. With a sign of relief, he noticed that they still were there. The cards... the result of yesterday's scavenging. Split up amongst the three boys with much bickering and threats of violence. Rai had been able to snag the special card from Yusei... the card that almost had ignited the oil well of suspicion into a fiery inferno of hatred. The truth was still safe, temporarily at least. Rai knew it all too well.
Rai's head hurt slightly. He could not remember any actual punches thrown. His companions (he would not make the mistake to think of them as friends) would not go that far, especially not with him. The distrust always had been there, of course. But the exchange of fearful glances between Yusei and Takashi the boy could occasionally see out of the corner of his eye when things got heated was a recent development.
They changed, and he did not.
Rai shook off the thought and openened the door to the adjacent living room. One room was much like the other, there was little decoration. The omnipresent Eye symbol manifested itself in various forms on walls and electric appliances. Back before the catastrophe, the section of the underground base Rai's family and their only neighbors - Mrs. Tanaka and her little daughter - lived in had been part of the prison of the general staff's headquarters. Settling down here had proven to be a lucky choice, as not even bandits dared to approach the epicentre of the enemy's... the former enemy's onslaught of bombs. Even Rai's mates did never visit him at the place repurposed into a home. The boy sat down at the table, where his mother and his little sister were already eating quietly. The food was the same as usual. Only rarely would Rai's mother - or lately, the boy himself - make the hour trip to the nearby colony to trade for fresh produce or meat, or other supplies. The path was not a dangerous one, but the people there were... weird, behaving in illogical ways. A result of the war, of course. Many had seen - and some had caused bloodshed, murder, death.
The miso soup tasted exactly as always. Kozue had recently learned how to eat on her own without spilling half of the bowl's contents. She was a bright little four-year-old. The children's mother often proudly claimed she was taking after her father. Kozue had never seen her father's face. Rai could barely remember it. A memory, lost in the war.
Soy sauce chicken and rice. The family's two members who could remember eating fresh food on a daily basis had long grown accustomed to eating freeze-dried rations for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Headquarters had been built specifically to stay self-sustainable for years, and the areas that survived the bombardment accordingly were fully operational. There was at least one decade worth of food shelved in the storage areas for the five people living together. Usually Mrs. Tanaka and her daughter Midori, who was the same age as Kozue and, by necessity, her only friend, would share their meals, but they hadn't shown up for this breakfast of sorts. Like almost all grown-ups he had ever met, Mrs. Tanaka's spirit was filled with weariness, and her health poor. The lack of sunlight, Mother said. The lack of purpose, too.
Mother teaching her daughter how to write and read. She had nothing more to teach to Rai. The boy had outgrown the remainders of her world a long time ago.
Kozue was a bright child. She could name colours, letters, numbers, animals from picture-books. Animals that didn't exist anymore. Or if they did, at least no-one was there to see them anymore.
Sitting in front of the viewscreen. Passing time. Daily routine. There was no more broadcasting, of course, but the headquarter's computer network had a large seletion of programmes stored in its databanks. Entertainment of the masses and food for thought both. Rai rarely joined in. The real world was, still, ever more interesting than the mind-numbing drivel of the age past. Rai needed to learn. Rai needed to grow. Rai needed to change.
The never-changing Ami logo on the cards old and new. The game had survived the catastrophe. It always did. Rai could perfectly remember the television advertisement he had seen as an infant, it was ingrained in his mind like an old wound that would never stop hurting from time to time. Drawn from ancient sources based on the magical games the Pharaos in the days of yore used - to do battles, to decide the fate of millions. History had a funny way of repeating itself. Rai smiled bitterly, rotating the special card held between his right hand's thumb and index finger with his other index finger. He had not seen one like it in a long time. He alone knew its meaning for now.
The deck was ready. Not complete, not perfected, of course, but enough. Rai had taken care of getting the cards he needed. He had his way of fooling his companions.. Sure, they had learned over time. A 12-star Nomi monster without the means to ever be able to summon it? A powerful ritual monster, but no matching ritual spell? Picking a foil card printed half a year before the cataclysm instead of a very old, very powerful rare that might be the only one of its type in the entire post-war country? They would not make such mistakes anymore. But Rai had always been getting his way nevertheless. The deck was ready. He was ready. The boy turned off the light illuminating his room. Tomorrow would be an interesting day for once.