Sympathetic Magic

A fanfiction by A Perplexing Puzzle and The Naked King

Summary: When two objects look similar, there is said to be a powerful correlation between them, one powerful magnetism that cannot be explain through normal means. For Yuugi Mutou that becomes particularly true when he is whisked away to Ancient Egypt through means he doesn't understand and meets the one person in the world he trusts most; but this is not Nameless Pharaoh, this is the God King, the most powerful man in the ancient world …

"So, as you can see, energy is stored as ATP during the light reaction of photosynthesis, but it's not until the dark reaction that the Calvin cycle takes this energy along with carbon dioxide to form…"

Sighing heavily, Yuugi slumped forward in his seat until his forehead hit the desk with a soft 'thud.' As hard as he tried to concentrate—and he really did try—his teacher's voice washed over him like white noise without an ounce of comprehension on his part. It had been like this ever since Battle City. There was something about almost losing your soul in a shadow game that made tasks like memorizing the quadratic formula and mapping out photosynthesis seem pointless, even surreal, and almost a week later Yuugi still hadn't adjusted. As the lecture went on, he had the sinking feeling that he would once again be explaining his low grades to both his teachers and his mom, conversations that usually dissolved into yelling on his mom's part and always involved the words "lazy" and "unfocused." Not that he blamed them, but he would've liked to live up to someone's expectations of him, for once.

Something light bounced off the side of his face, breaking Yuugi out of his increasingly melancholy thoughts. Startled, he sat up quickly, staring at the crumpled piece of paper that had fallen to his desk for a moment before grabbing it and, with a surreptitious glance at his teacher, opening it beneath his desk. The message was short, scrawled across the page in familiar messy handwriting.

Arcade today?

Glancing to his left, he saw Jounouchi looking expectantly at him, face hopeful. Yuugi hesitated, then gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, shrugging helplessly when Jou's face fell.

"We'll talk later," he mouthed, but at that very moment the bell rang, signaling the end of school. The room immediately erupted into noisy chatter as classmates stood up, comparing weekend plans and completely ignoring their teacher's attempt to give final instructions. Jou bounded out of his seat towards him, and Yuugi shook his head, laughing.

"You couldn't wait two minutes for the bell to ring before passing a note?" he asked, gathering up his books and glancing ruefully down at his notebook, which was completely covered in random scribbles. At least he had the whole weekend to catch up on schoolwork. Maybe he could bring his grades up after all. The thought cheered him considerably.

"Eh, we didn't get caught." Jou shrugged, leaning across the desk and looking up. "Why can't you go to the arcade?"

Shouldering his heavy backpack, Yuugi glanced sideways at his friend. "I'd like to," he said slowly, "but a place like that will probably be packed with duelists…"

He faded off meaningfully, and Jou caught his drift. "Oh!" Eyes widening, Jou nodded quickly. "Oh yeah! Sorry, I wasn't thinking..."

"It's okay," Yuugi assured him with a tired smile. "I'd be too busy, anyway. I promised grandpa I'd help out at the shop today, you know? It's been a busy week…"

Jou snorted. "Understatement of the century," he muttered, which drew a laugh out of Yuugi. None of them had anticipated the kind of attention he would receive when they got home from the tournament. Winning Duelist Kingdom had given him a certain low-level celebrity status at school, but winning Battle City, along with the three Egyptian god cards…

As they walked out the door together, Jou threw an arm around his shoulders—an apparently innocent gesture of friendship, but Yuugi knew it had a hidden protective edge. People were desperate to challenge him for his god cards, and now that KaibaCorp's Duel Disk technology was available to everyone, it was all too easy for anybody to challenge him anywhere, all at once—more people than he could duel in a month, sometimes. It was becoming a nightmare, though Yuugi still held out hope that it would all be over soon. The spotlight couldn't stay on him for that much longer… right?

"Yuugi! Jou!" He jerked at the sound of his name, but it was only Anzu and Honda, running to catch up.

"Hey guys," he said, smiling and pretending not to notice how they immediately surrounded him in something resembling a bodyguard formation, tucking him neatly out of view thanks to his height. "How was school?"

"Oh, you know. School is school." Honda grinned wickedly as he reached for something in his bag. "Just thought you'd like to see your latest press release," he said, pulling out a brightly colored teen magazine. With trepidation, Yuugi recognized his own hairstyle on the cover.

"Honda!" Anzu hissed, but Yuugi had already taken it, rolling his eyes in resignation. The cover page featured a full body shot of him, hand on his waist, hip cocked, with a familiar smirk adorning his face. YUUGI MUTOU, KING OF GAMES was written in large neon letters across the top; then, in smaller writing that made Yuugi blush once he'd read it: But who can win his heart?

"Really?" Yuugi said irritably, rolling up the magazine and ignoring Jou and Honda's snickers, too afraid to read the article within. "Do they really have nothing better to write about?" His blush deepened as the intent behind some of the looks he'd received from girls at school that day clicked into place. Oh gosh.

"Come on, Yuugi," Jou said, winking suggestively at him. "LIghten up. There had to be some perks to this whole thing, right?"

"Uh…"

"You guys are a bunch of immature jerks," Anzu said with a glare before Yuugi could even think of how to respond. "Yuugi's too nice to take advantage of girls like that."

"That's the point!" Honda insisted, grabbing the magazine out of Yuugi's hands and gesturing at the picture. "He's the 'nice guy' and the 'bad guy' all rolled into one. What woman could resist that?"

"Give me that." Pink cheeked, Anzu snatched the magazine back and let it fall to the ground, stepping on it with her foot for good measure. "I think we've had enough trash for one day," she said stiffly, whirling around and stalking away. "Come on."

Yuugi stared for a long moment at the slightly crumpled picture on the ground, but left it behind, following wordlessly after her.

"Touchy," Honda muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So! Arcade today?"

"Nah," Jou said, with a quick glance at Yuugi. "Too many people. Besides, Yuugi's helping out at the shop today."

Honda nodded in understanding. "How about we all go down to the shop?" he suggested. "It might be fun to just hang out together."

"Hey, yeah!" Jou's face brightened. "I haven't stopped by in ages."

"No, you should go to the arcade," Yuugi said suddenly, interrupting them. "Not that I don't want you coming," he added hastily, seeing their surprised expressions. "The game shop's just been super busy this week, and we wouldn't be able to talk at all. It gets so noisy, you can barely hear yourself think in there. And Anzu has dance practice anyway, so…"

"You sure?" Jou asked, scrutinizing him with a level of perception that was out of place for him. "We could always help out if you want."

"Oh, we'll be fine," Yuugi said, pasting a bright smile on his face. "How about we meet up at Burger World after I close up shop? Dinner's on me." When Jou still looked uncertain, he pulled out his final trump card. "You'll have to tell me whether you beat Kaiba's record in that racing game. Weren't you going to do that today?"

"That's right!" Jou pumped a fist in the air. "I'd almost forgotten about that. Today is the day that Kaiba's going down!"

"You're really haven't given up yet?" Honda asked, causing Jou to round on him.

"Just what do you mean by that?"

"Well, with most people I'd say to quit while you're ahead, but you've never actually been ahead, so…"

"I'm up for tonight," Anzu said, speaking over Jou's outraged spluttering. "Just… call me if you need anything, okay? Friends come before dance practice."

Yuugi's eyes skittered away from her knowing look. Of course she wouldn't be as easy to distract. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I'll call you tonight"

"Will you make it home okay?" Jou asked, and Yuugi smiled, putting one hand on his puzzle and another on his deck, which he had attached to his belt.

"I have everything I need," he said simply. His friends nodded.

"See you tonight, then," Jou said, ruffling Yuugi's hair and laughing at the grimace he received in return. "You'll regret that offer to pay for dinner, you know!"

"Probably," Yuugi agreed, ducking his head away with a laugh. "See you guys later!"

With a final wave good-bye, Yuugi turned around and let his feet lead him up the familiar path to the school's roof. It was his favorite place to think, and on the afternoon before the weekend it was guaranteed to be deserted. Over the past week, he'd found that it had the added advantage of giving him a bird's eye view of the school's surroundings, letting him know when the crowd of obsessive duelists who had made a habit of waiting for him finally gave up and scattered to search elsewhere. Once look was enough to let him know that it hadn't happened yet.

Leaning up against the fence to wait, Yuugi sighed. He couldn't explain his sudden urge to get away from everyone, except that the thought of keeping up a cheery smile while watching his friends step on eggshells around him had suddenly seemed like too much to handle. As much as they cared about him and as close as they were, he didn't think they'd understand what was bothering him even if he could put it into words, and to be honest, he'd rather not try. It wasn't a big deal, anyway. He just… needed to be alone for a little while.

Of course, for Yuugi, "alone" was a relative state.

"Aibou?" An insubstantial figure materialized beside him, fixing him with an intense red stare. Yuugi turned to meet it, the corners of his mouth lifting reluctantly.

"Yeah, other me?"

The spirit took a moment to examine him, expression inscrutable. "You seem deep in thought," he said finally, glancing at their surroundings with a small frown. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting." Yuugi gestured towards the small crowd of duelists still waiting below, and the other Yuugi nodded, face flashing with irritation.

"Fools," he growled dismissively. Yuugi had been almost amused to find that the pharaoh was just as bothered by the persistent crowd as he was, though for entirely different reasons. "What makes them think they have the right or ability to face the gods in battle? We would crush them within within three turns."

Yuugi just shrugged. "We would," he agreed softly. Something in his tone drew his other self's attention once more.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked, placing an insubstantial hand on Yuugi's shoulder. "It's not them, is it?"

"No," Yuugi said, suppressing a laugh at the burst of protective anger he felt from the other Yuugi. "It's not that. It's just…"

He faded off, thinking back to the magazine that had been left abandoned in the hallway. As flippantly as his other self might use the word "we," Yuugi knew that he had very little to do with their combined victories… and he was okay with that. It rankled at times, but he'd come to accept that his role in the pharaoh's story was a supporting one, and that all he could do was try to grow stronger. But to see another's deeds attached to his name… for someone else's confidence to show through on his face and be labelled as him… it just made him feel small and useless sometimes. What would happen if his other self's search for his memories eventually took him away from Yuugi? Would Yuugi be trying all his life to live up to a legacy that was never really his, left to defend with his own measly strength deeds that he could never have accomplished?

Even thinking these thoughts made his cheeks burn with shame. It was stupid and selfish of him. Besides, what was any of that compared to what his other self must feel, not even having a name?

Admitting these fears could bring nothing but harm, so Yuugi left them unvoiced. "It's nothing," he said, gripping the fence. "Just… school and stuff. You know."

There was a long silence, in which Yuugi didn't dare to meet his other self's eyes. The hand on his shoulder was slowly withdrawn.

"You can talk to me about anything," he said, and Yuugi winced guiltily at the note of hurt in his voice. "You know that, right?"

Biting his lip, Yuugi turned to face him. "Look, I—" He stopped, blinking as a strange tingling sensation came over him. That was odd. When nothing else happened, he shook his head and tried again. "I—"

He cut off with a gasp as it returned with greater intensity. An uncomfortable heat swept through him, and he raised a shaky hand to his forehead to wipe away beads of sweat that had suddenly formed. There was a persistent tugging in his chest that he innately tried to resist, though he could feel it growing stronger. He squinted, shading his eyes to no effect. Where was all this light coming from?

"Aibou! Are you okay?" Catching the note of alarm in his other self's voice, Yuugi struggled to respond.

"O-other… me?" His knees hit the ground with a distant pain. He couldn't see. The world was too bright. Something was pulling at him, pulling him away, and he reached out desperately, but if his outstretched hands managed to brush against ghostly fingers, he couldn't tell.

"Aibou!"

Though he tried to hold on, the voice was fading. The world was fading, swallowed in light. His ears roared with the sound of wind, and the heat growing inside him became unbearable. He cried out wordlessly as he felt one last pull on his soul, and then…

As abruptly as it had started, the light, noise, the heat… vanished. Yuugi slumped forward, distantly grateful when his head hit a more forgiving surface than the rough concrete he'd been standing on. The world swam strangely before him in shades of tan and blue, and he closed his eyes.

Other me…

Exhausted, he gave up the fight and let himself fall. The darkness that rose to meet him was mercifully cool.

Long treks through the vast wastelands to inspect quarries had never been part of his plan, but then again his life had not really gone as he might have expected thus far. He had dreamed many things, had envisioned many events in his life, and none of them had included being surrounded by burly looking men, discussing the prospects of finding gold with a grizzled looking prospector. Not that the prospector made eye contact. He couldn't imagine what his guards would do if the man even attempted such a feat.

No, that would be much too risky, he supposed, though part of him missed the ability to look those who served him in the eye. It was not as if he hadn't adjusted, however. He had adjusted to many things in the past months, had become whatever it was he had needed to be for the people of his country, the people who he had sworn to guide and protect.

For his people he had become a god.

"I think that this trip will be quite lucrative, if, my most exalted king, you allow us to push further into the cavern," the prospector stated, drawing him out of his reverie. They had always said he was easily distracted, if only by his own thoughts.

The prospector was not allowed to speak directly to him, so he pulled on the hem of his trusted priest's robe, causing the man to bow his head so the young monarch was able to whisper his response in his ear. After a tense moment, the priest straightened and leveled his bright eyes at the prospector. "His highness believes that as long as you or your men are not put in terrible danger, he would be more than happy to see you delve further into this mine. He is certain that you know your trade well enough to assess the risk and make the correct choices."

The prospector's gaze settled on the young king's form for only a moment before turning away in restrained terror. He supposed curiosity must have overcome him, for it wasn't often a god commended you on your knowledge of a trade; briefly, he found himself hoping the other had not been disappointed by the face of his king. Awaiting the inevitable response, he found himself ignoring the supposed offense, as did his entourage. "I am honored by the king's confidence in my crew. We promise we will do all we are able to pull wonderful riches from the depths of this cavern."

The next moments found the king stepping into the harsh sunlight, blinking for a moment before his eyes adjusted to the glare. He stretched, receiving a few startled stares from the men around him, but he paid them little mind. Atem, King of the Two Kingdoms, was hardly a conventional ruler in any way, and he was not about to change who he was simply because of his title. At least not completely.

"You seem relieved."

"Relieved isn't quite the right word for what I am feeling," he admitted, his back cracking as he arched into his languid stretch. "It is more along the lines of anticipation. Now that this meeting is over, we will return home, which is a relief. I do so miss my gardens, and I would like to see that Siamun and Ahkenaden have not destroyed the palace in my absence."

The smirk that adorned his priest's lips was not lost on Atem.

"Oh, I am quite certain that the Lady Isis will have kept them in check, my king." Though the priest's face remained stoic, Atem could detect the sparkle of mirth in his eyes.

Atem had to agree. Of his priests and advisers, Isis was perhaps the best at mediating when all else failed. He liked to think it had something to do with her ability to see the future using the Millennium Tauk, and that her ability caused them to possess a deep seated respect for her. Though if he were being honest he would admit that it was also coupled with a particular fear of her connections. This was to say, a fear of her brother, Kalim, a powerful but silent man who commanded a great presence in any room if only for his bulk.

The matter of Isis was not a pressing, Atem realized as he shifted his body, his posture returning to its usual sort of proud rigidity. He had been raised to be a prince and he had no reason to behave in a way counter intuitive to his upbringing. In stock as well as bearing Atem was nothing but a king, albeit one of a short stature.

But would they expect him to be anything other than the perfect picture of nobility? Could he really ask them to see him as anything other than the son of one of the Two Kingdom's greatest rulers? After all, the previous king has made the land prosperous, and he had, fifteen harvests ago, protected his kingdom from the Threat of a Thousand Armies. How could he expect them to ask for him to be anything less than what his father had been?

A bitter taste in his mouth, Atem realized he had not responded to the Priest Mahado, who stood staring at him. "I am certain you are right," he said at last, quickly turning his face away and heading down the rocky slope toward their horses.

Wanting to make it to their boat by nightfall, Atem wasted no time in waiting for his contingency of guards nor his priest friend. They had to make a trek through the desert as of yet, and though it would not be a long one, journeying through the wastes was always dangerous. From behind him he heard the sound of sandals scraping stone as the men scuttled after their king, who was already far ahead of them. Draping his sand cloak about his shoulders and pulling the hood up up over his head, he pulled himself into the saddle of the ill-tempered, smelly beast before him.

Camels … Atem had never liked them, but he had to admit that they were necessary for desert travel.

"Are you gentleman coming, or do I have to leave you behind?" he asked, his voice somewhat sing-song, even from behind the scarf that now covered his mouth; one did not travel the red wasteland laid bare to the harm of the sun. His eyes were the only thing that shone, brilliant and taunting as his guards scrambled up onto their own camels, a few making sure to secure their supplies.

"Must you be so reckless, my king?"

Atem returned his gaze to Mahado, whose brow was creased in concern.

It was not surprising that the man would feel this way. After all, he had been chasing after Atem for the last five years. Mahado had seen Atem at his worst points, but he was also fairly sure that the priest was aware of all the good he intended to accomplish, though they had never discussed it. Perhaps that was because, with Mahado, there never truly was a need to discuss anything; the man simply seemed to know.

"You know I do not mean any harm," Atem replied in a hushed tone, enough for a bit of the tension to leave Mahado's shoulders.

"I know, dear king, but you must remember you are no longer simply a prince." The priest's voice was gentle, a tone that Atem recognized from all the times the other had caught him playing when he was supposed to be studying. "Your life is too valuable now. You cannot treat things so rashly. What if something were to happen to you? You have no heir yet, master, but even if you did you still represent your people's hopes."

"I will be fine." He waved his arm, though part of what Mahado said sank through to the very depths of his being. He felt his Ba reel as he realized that his priest was indeed correct; he had become the symbol of his great nation, and he could no longer act like a child. This left him feeling more disgruntled than it should have.

Their conversation at a close, the group set off across the burning sand, a vast land of red and blue all that Atem could see for miles. Riding in silence to conserve energy, he was able to grant his mind passage to wander, dreaming of his bed back home, and of the hounds waiting for him. Had they been fed properly? He couldn't help but confess worry. After all, they had been gifts from his father and were very precious to him.

His thoughts continued in this pattern for quite some time until his eyes caught sight of something unusual in the distance, a spot of darkness in a sea of gleaming sand. He stared, transfixed, as it grew closer, realizing with a jolt that it was actually a human being. He could see a tangle of limbs, and, perhaps more importantly, the bare skin of his face.

Why, such a person would be baked alive in this heat without the proper shelter!

Fidgeting from atop his mount, it only took Atem a moment before he came to a decision about what to do. Launching himself off the camel, he went rolling through the sand, coming to a slow stop and struggling to his feet, his guards shouting in protest, though Atem did not hear Mahado's voice among them.

Taking off, he moved as quickly as he could toward the collapsed form, something in his mind screaming that it could be a bandit. Those thoughts disappeared, however, when he saw the face of the person who lay crumpled in the sand.

There was a sheen of sweat there, across his brow, smooth with skin the color of gold dust. It was strangely yellow compared to the copper of Atem's hand, which hovered over the stranger's head at this very moment. His features, too, were clearly foreign, and the fact that he had been discovered in the desert would not help his chances with Atem's guard at all. Surely they would see him as a servant of Chaos.

And if all those things did not tempt them to kill the young man in front of him, the young monarch knew for sure what would, for his hair shot up in every direction, a mirror of Atem's own voluminous mess of spikes. Such a distinction … surely his men would take this poor, ill youth as a threat simply for that similarity, which could be used to conjure a powerful spell that was a danger to their king.

Despite all this, Atem felt that this person, whoever he was, was far from a threat. It was then and there he resolved to give the other help instead of leaving him hear to die, or allowing his soldiers to perform an execution.

With great difficulty, he pulled the oddly clad youth into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Normally this would be an impossibility, but this person was mercifully short and light, making it possible for Atem to hold him. Leaving no room for his men to question his intents, he strode through their stunned ranks to drape the other over the front of his camel.

Without another glace at anyone, least of all Mahado, whose skeptical expression he could feel rather than see, Atem spoke. "How far are we from shade and food?"

He turned his gaze upon Mahado, who shook himself, offering an answer. "Only a few more miles, my dear king." His anxious eyes fell on the unconscious form that Atem clasped to his chest, propping the limp body up with one arm. Without even speaking, Mahado had asked Atem if he was sure of his decision.

"This is good news. We have in our presence a victim of the heat, and I would like to make haste before it is too late to save him." Saying no more, Atem urged his camel forward in a way that left no room for discussion.

Having no choice, his men followed him.

The young king soon found that these last few miles felt longer than the entire passage before, if only because he could feel how faint the heartbeat of his charge was against his chest. The other's state concerned him, and every minute seemed to drag as he worried for the well-being of this unusual stranger who now sat before him, slumped over.

He had saved him because of an instinct, a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that had called his attention to the other's welling being. He knew beyond a doubt that this person was important to him somehow. He though did not yet know in what capacity, the inclination was strong and he had no desire to ignore it.

He had never ignored such a feeling, and he had no intention of staring now.