Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! GX

Losing Faith

It used to be so easy.

Back when I believed in destiny, everything was so much easier; everything was planned out by a powerful, unseen force, and everyone's set path was written specifically for them. Destiny guided everyone to where they had to be at the correct time, and everyone floated along in destiny's wake, unable to control it but nevertheless believing they could. I used to believe in that force wholeheartedly.

Back then, I believed that I was at the top of the pro leagues and as intelligent as I was – a chosen one, if you will – because it was my destiny to be that good, to have that influence and that path of victory. I believed that I would win each duel because of two things: destiny and my built-up confidence in my own abilities. After all, each time my old friend and manager Sartorius predicted that I would win a duel, I did. Destiny had my back; that was all there was to it.

I trained hard, even back then, simply because you can never be too careful – I wasn't about to let my guard down, to allow some amateur to take me down because I wasn't ready. I always did try to improve my duelling skills, but I always had that inner belief that, whether I trained or not, I would win, because it was my destiny to be the victor.

But then I went to Duel Academy and met a boy named Jaden Yuki, and everything began to change. I lost my faith in destiny because it was proven wrong, and I can't say, even now, that I'm sorry for that lost faith – in making me lose my faith in destiny, Jaden also managed to save my oldest friend from a terrible force: the Light. He did what I could not, and I won't even try to pretend that that simple fact doesn't drive me mad every now and again. It does.

I was grateful to Jaden all the same; I still am. I have my friend back now, the way he is supposed to be, and that's worth much more than any belief I ever had in destiny. After all, Jaden's actions on that day he saved Sartorius proved to me one thing: some things can never be predicted. Once all that happened, I began to believe that destiny wasn't real, and eventually realised that it never had been.

It's funny how things work out. I used to live my life according to my destiny told to me by Sartorius. Now I don't believe in destiny at all.

My future is in my own hands and mine alone, and whatever victories I am blessed with will come as a result of hard work and effort on my part. And that effort is far more prominent now than it was before; nowadays, I stay up late regularly with a personal trainer, duelling impossible duels until I am sure that I can win. Someone like me can't possibly win duels if they don't train, and that's why I do it. I have a hard-earned reputation and a blossomed career that I won't – can't afford to – tarnish by being lazy or giving up.

Sometimes I miss it: that old comfort of knowing, no matter what happened, I was going to win, just because I was meant to. Sometimes I wish that I had that ever-present confidence, even though I realise now that it was a weakness of mine that I should have never have had, and one that I will never fall victim to again.

Nonetheless, it was always a reassurance. You see, no matter how good a duellist you are, no matter how confident you feel, there's nearly always a moment in a pro-circuit duel when your opponent tries to back you into a corner and almost succeeds, and regardless of what I might say to the cameras, those moments are terrifying. You can keep your cool and act cocky, but the truth is, you're sweating inside because there's always a little voice in the back of your mind saying 'that was too close' or 'if you don't think of something, you're finished'.

Destiny used to be my safety-net in such moments – it didn't matter how close a call it had been because I knew already that I was going to win.

Once that safety-net fell apart, I was on my own for the first time in a pro-circuit duel. I have to admit, I wasn't too shabby that first duel after I stopped believing in destiny; my cards were good, my opponent a sham, my moves were flawless and my confidence high. It took a few duels before someone genuinely got me into a corner that I had to fight my way out from, and that was when I realised that I really did have to fight, because destiny simply wasn't going to pop out and save me if I couldn't save myself.

I got out of that corner, though, and the one after that and the one after that. But not because of destiny; I did it myself, because my skills as a duellist are advanced enough. Nevertheless, even though this is probably healthier as a duellist, I sometimes wish I had that constant invisible support that I once believed I had.

After all, even if it was never there in the first place, the mere fact that I believed it was did enough for me.

And with all the training and handshakes and autographs and pro-league duels, it's easy to get worn out and tired. There are glamorous aspects of the pro duellist life but there are severe downsides, particularly when you're famous for being a young 'genius'.

That's why, sometimes, it's nice just to be able to get away, back to a place where you feel you don't have to put up an appearance and pretend that you knew what you were doing throughout that last duel, when really you were riding on luck for the last round.

It's why I have come here, on one of my few genuine days off, to Duel Academy. This place is much more peaceful despite the supernatural goings-on that tend to occur. When it's normal here – which does happen, just not very often - it's truly normal. It's just a school; a school with classes and teachers and students, detentions and dorm rooms and duelling. To someone looking for a break, like me, it's pretty much as good as you can get, particularly when I was a student here for long enough that nobody asks for autographs or stares at me overly any more – well, except for the fan girls, but I tend to find them wherever I go.

Presently, I am sitting in the Slifer Red canteen, although not really by my own choice – it's too small and dirty for my tastes. But this is where the person I want to talk to is at the moment, and he seems pretty comfortable, lounging on top of one of the tables. I'd normally just insist that we go elsewhere – after all, Jaden used to be happy wherever he was – but now I'm not really so sure.

Jaden is different now, that much is clear. I hadn't seen him after his return from the alternate dimension like everyone else had; after a couple of days spent in the hospital for safety precautions, I'd left to get back to my career, so I hadn't been around a week after our return to this world. And Jaden hadn't come back for a week.

Don't get me wrong, I called to check and see if he was back, and was relieved when I heard that he was. Jaden is a friend that I value very much, even if I don't like to show it, and I was mightily glad to hear that he was alright. However, when I called again and somehow managed to end up speaking to Chazz – this was a bit before he started working for me – I heard that Jaden was different. Chazz described him as 'cold' and 'shut out from everyone'.

I didn't believe it. When Crowler asked me to come and take Chazz on as my assistant, I had seen Jaden briefly – noticed that his features had matured and that his attitude seemed different – but I hadn't really spoken to him.

This is the first time that we've had alone since Dark World, and for the first time since I've known him, the room is silent.

He looks way too serious, somehow; I thought at first that something had annoyed him, but he seems alright, and this just backs up what Chazz said earlier, about him being different.

But I don't agree with Chazz, as such: Jaden may have changed but he isn't cold. He didn't try to make me leave when I first arrived here; he smiled at me and asked me to come sit with him. He might not be talking right now but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's because he's waiting for me to talk.

The only problem is that I don't know what to say. Between me and Jaden, I've never had to do this before, because he's always talked enough for the both of us, and another six people besides.

Not to mention, I can tell that he's waiting to see if I'm going to yell at him or ask questions or something like that. I think he believes that I'm going to bring up Dark World.

Well, I'm not. There are some memories that should just be forgotten, in my opinion, and the things that happened in Dark World fall into that category, along with that deceitful killer that took advantage of my innocent child's trustful nature and took my father away from me.

I glance over at Jaden to find him staring right at me – I try to work out from his facial expression what he's thinking, but it's difficult because he's irritatingly expressionless; the only emotion held in his features is the anxiety in his eyes, and that probably because I've caught him staring.

I raise one eyebrow at him questioningly and he grins; by default, so do I. But then his expression hardens and he looks at me with more seriousness than I have ever seen on his face, save for maybe his time as the Supreme King.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you" Jaden says eventually, and I know immiediately what he means.

He's doing that old thing again, blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault. I was the one who wanted to save Echo, I was the one was dulled Adrian and failed, I was the one who got himself sent to the stars. It was all my own doing; if anything, Jaden tried to talk me out of it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

But telling that to him is like talking to a brick wall – it's pointless and a one-sided conversation that gets neither of you anywhere.

And so I just nod and say "it's all in the past."

Because nobody knows better than I do that the past cannot be changed.

Hell, if the past could be changed, I would change my entire life. I'd stop the D, I'd save my father, and I'd live the life with him that I was supposed to. I'd likely have never met Jaden or gone to Dark World, and then I wouldn't be having this little chat in the first place.

But the past can't be changed, just as the future can't be predicted. Those are two life lessons that no successful person does not know.

I learned the first as a young child, when my father was murdered. But the second I learned only recently, and regardless of the ins and outs of the whole story, it was down to Jaden Yuki that I learned that lesson at all, and I'm glad I did.

I smile at Jaden to let him know that I have no grudges against him, that I don't blame him and am not mad at him. After all, that's about all I can do. Once again, the rest is up to him.

But I don't think that's going to be a problem.

Because he grins at me and starts babbling about something or other that I only half understand, and I fall into a familiar old routine of pointing out why he's wrong and laughing at him, as well as laughing with him.

I can see what Chazz meant: Jaden is different. But I think he's more mature now, more down to earth, and I don't think that's a bad thing.

I rather like this new Jaden.

As I listen to him talk, giving my input where it is demanded, I glance upwards, and think to myself, did you see this coming, Destiny? I thought not.

Yes, destiny isn't real. But there are so many things that are, including my friendship with Jaden, which I can feel is going to strengthen thanks to his new maturity.

I smile broadly as I realise something, as I truly have the insight for the first time – I may have lost my faith in destiny but I gained something far more valuable.

I no longer have faith in destiny.

Instead, I have faith in my friends and in myself, and I have more now than I ever did before.

Please R&R