A/N: For the YGO Fanfiction Contest Season 12 Round 2. The pairing: Supportshipping (Hiroto Honda x Anzu Mazaki).

Disclaimer: Kazuki Takahashi and all associated companies are the rightful owners of the Yuugiou! franchise and I claim no association with any of them. No copyright infringement intended with this and no money is being made from this. Please support the creator by purchasing the official releases.

Warnings: none; worksafe.

Re:Bound

Midnight

In absolute darkness, every sound is amplified. The lack of light brings with it silence that is jarring to the ears. It makes those trapped within it scramble to place all sounds for one terrifying instant while their minds conjure up nightmares. Senses are over-sharpened, nerves drawn too tight – like the strings on a violin just ready to be played with even the lightest of touches. Breathing is too loud; heartbeat has never been more noticeable, and the sudden rustle of clothing brings a jolt of panic and uncertainty.

And then there's that dull, droning sound of grinding. Rock against rock. Metal gear against metal gear. The occasional creak of wood, and the low dripping of something that might be water.

…please, let it be water.

It means that the walls around them aren't as thick as they had initially thought them to be.

"Hey, Anzu…" Honda's voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes around the stone room like the boom of a cannon, words hitting her like the beat of a war drum. "Is this a bad time to tell you that I like you… in that way?"

11 P.M.

They've exhausted words. They've begun to fear them because each word is an unnecessary amount of sound that erases everything else; that could make them miss either Yuugi or Jounouchi – or both – calling out to them. They can't afford to miss the sound of the footsteps of their saviour coming to free them from this dark cell. And with each heartbeat that hammers in their ears that possibility becomes less and less likely.

All semblance of time passing has been lost hours ago and there's nothing to hold on to but the maddening sounds of their own life that have become so accented and worrying all of a sudden. The low hum in their ears reminds them that there is life running through their veins and, for as long as that holds true, the terrors their minds are putting them through will not cease. The thought of how mortal they are, how fragile a life is breathes down the back of their necks.

The thought of 'what if they're already dead?' comes unbidden and won't leave no matter how hard they try to convince themselves otherwise.

10 P.M.

They've spent hours worrying about their friends without reaching a comforting conclusion. They've kept this silent from each other in an attempt to remain strong, but there's only so much a person can take before despair begins to seep in through the cracks, extending its greedy, gnarly fingers to clutch at the smallest, most irrelevant things. Not to mention – they know each other so well that there isn't even a fraction of a doubt that the other one is just as troubled. That the other one knows – or at least suspects – the depth of despair that slowly spreads within their minds, swallowing all rational thought.

Anzu tightens her grip on Honda's hand, shifting closer to him for support and reassurance, both of which he needs himself because he isn't a pillar of strength. It's a startling revelation that has dawned on him during the hours spent in isolation without finding any solutions to their predicament. But he won't push her away. He won't – can't – let her know the kind of thoughts churning at the forefront of his mind right now. He needs the reassurance her closeness gives him.

Somewhere, gears begin to turn with a low screech and something heavy begins to grind against the rock wall of their cell. It's almost as if someone is trying to eat through the walls just to get to them, but that must only be their imagination, right?

9 P.M.

"Honda, do you…" Anzu tries to say something, but her voice disappears in the echoes of her words and she never gathers the courage to finish the sentence.

Darkness is boxing them in from all sides, and the cold seeping from the stone walls boxing them in with the darkness has long since permeated every cell of their being, right down to the bone marrow.

They'll never get warm again, Honda thinks, reaching out blindly through the dark to where he thinks Anzu's hands might be. He brushes her thigh, moves up until he bumps into her arm, then follows it down to find her hands tightly clenched in her lap. They don't uncurl to greet his gesture and so he simply covers them with his broad palm. Her skin is ice-cold and clammy, but so is his, and so it doesn't matter. Her hands are shaking under his palm. It might be the cold. It might not.

He pretends that his hand is steady atop hers. He pretends that there isn't a hint of urgency in the way he places his other arm around her shoulders. He wants to tell her that everything will be alright, that they'll get out of here, that their friends are coming for them, but the words catch in his throat and won't come out. The only thing that escapes him is a low, indefinable sound. It scrapes against the walls like a living, breathing monster.

The hope is gradually losing its lustre.

They're probably going to die soon.

8 P.M.

The old stories gain new edges in the whisper-filled darkness. Cold makes their voices shake occasionally, which, in turn, takes some of the confidence out of them. Their old glory days no longer seem quite so glorious. The darkness ruling around them gives them new angles to look at. They both have thought of several instances where things could have easily gone a different route, resulting in an outcome far too frightening to even consider. But the darkness makes them consider. The darkness makes them see.

Hidden meanings uncover themselves. Small gestures suddenly shine in a new light. It's a revelation and a curse – knowing that most of their life has been a gamble of luck, driven forward by a game of cards.

7 P.M.

The darkness is oppressing and it's only getting worse. It doesn't matter whether they keep their eyes open or closed: the picture remains the same. Except… when their eyes are open, they are haunted by the illusion of beginning to see something, of finally adjusting to the pitch black world around them – a smattering of tiny light spots, a kind of a golden dust, but it's just an illusion. There is no light. There is nothing.

When they keep their eyes shut, however, vivid memories flicker in front of their mind's eye reminding them of everything that is currently at stake. Everything that was, and everything that could still be if Yuugi emerges victorious.

They don't know which of the two is worse, but they do know that there isn't a method of torture more exquisite than the game of "Hey, remember when-" which they'd played up until a while ago until the memories became too unbearable and the thoughts of never having a chance to repeat any of that – too insurmountable.

6 P.M.

They have stopped all attempts at breaking out. Exhausted and with hands numb from the cold, they finally settle in one of the four corners of their cell. The room is spacious, with a high ceiling, and full of echoes, but because of the all-encompassing darkness, the walls seem to be creeping in on them in an attempt to suffocate them with the absolute silence that reigns when they stop moving. Which is why they don't. Didn't. Exhaustion won. Exhaustion forced them to cover in a corner.

The tiniest whisper hisses along the walls and curls around them soft and gentle at first, but steadily growing more venomous as other whispered words join in. And for now, words are the only saviour both Honda and Anzu have thought of. They reminisce about all the previous times they were in a tough spot and how things always turned out good in the end.

Hope. We must not lose hope.

But it's slowly wearing thin, stretching out and thrumming low like a coil about to snap.

5 P.M.

They can't find the door even though they were not blindfolded when they were shoved through said door into this cold, lightless basement. The walls are solid; there are no cracks, no seams, no dents. They're starting to think that they're going crazy. Anzu thinks the stone cell is somehow magical, but Honda doesn't really believe in magic – unless they're tricks.

They must have circled the room a thousand times, but there isn't a single thing that would help them identify their position in regards to the exit. While they carry on searching every centimetre of the wall with their fingers, discovering nothing but what they already know, the first seeds of doubt are beginning to sprout and the first buds of helplessness unfurl. But they're not giving up yet; not while Yuugi and Jounouchi are still fighting somewhere. Not while they're trying to get to them, doing everything they can and more just to be reunited with their friends one more time.

That's why they take another step to the right. They run their hands over the wall high and low in search of a door, a lever, a… something. Anything.

4 P.M.

They're trying to keep their spirits high, placing all of their trust in Yuugi and Jounouchi and their duelling skills – perhaps one more than the other, but they're both very close friends, so it doesn't really matter. They're out there, behind these walls, fighting to get in, fighting to get to Anzu and Honda. Fighting to be reunited again the same way they've done over and over and over again, sticking together like glue and coming to each other's aid despite all odds.

And Anzu and Honda are fighting to get out for the same reason.

Sitting and waiting to be rescued isn't something Honda can live with and Anzu is in one hundred percent agreement with him. She's not a deadweight even though she feels like it sometimes. It's hard keeping in step with the duellists when she doesn't duel herself, but then – neither does Honda, so that makes two of them. Manning the sidelines is easier when you're not the only one doing it.

3 P.M.

Nothing happens and they begin to worry. There is no light to see by, no way to tell how much time has passed. They reason that it's still too soon to know for sure. Perhaps still too soon to even assume that Yuugi knows about their disappearance. Perhaps this new enemy has something different planned.

Not knowing is the worst part of this. Anything could have happened. Nothing could have happened. Yuugi might be trapped on the other side of the wall and they wouldn't know it. It is an option: they both agree on it, but at the same time they dismiss it. They won't admit out loud, but it would be a dreary situation otherwise: their only hope – trapped.

It's only moments like this when they realise how much hope they put into Yuugi. How much they rely on him to always play the situation right and come out on top. It's scary. And it makes all sorts of uncomfortable questions rear their heads through the cracks of confidence they've never even known they had.

2 P.M.

Their situation seems quite grim, but they've had worse – it's a conclusion they come to as they list through all the possible people behind this, weighing each option carefully and then discarding as unlikely or putting aside for further contemplation. As much as they wish for the culprit behind this to be someone they already know, they are well aware that it is rather unlikely. Yuugi has made amends with each and every one of them – more or less – and therefore none of them should still harbour any ill feelings towards the King of Games and his friends – or have any further reason to pursue a rematch and revenge.

With each passing minute it becomes more and more obvious that they're up against someone new. Again.

1 P.M.

Trapped in a room with no windows and a door that was slammed shut behind them, they are weighing their options. They don't know how much time has already passed. No one has come to check up on them or to gloat at their predicament. No demands have been made; no sweeping proclamations of a new world order being set; no leaders have come forth to introduce themselves. Everything is just… too quiet.

They exchange slightly worried guesses at the reasons behind that, and with the very next breath find viable reasons to prove themselves wrong. Clearly, this new enemy has learned a great deal and isn't about to repeat the old song and dance – which, frankly speaking, both of them have already grown tired of. There can only be so much variation to making and holding someone hostage, after all.

Midday

They are escorted through hallways at a gunpoint. If they hesitate, their captors are quick to urge them onwards with a sharp jab to their backs. They aren't going to run, though. There is nowhere to go: not when they are surrounded by this many people. It would be funny – how dangerous they think they are – if it wouldn't also be frightening. Apparently, it doesn't matter how many times you save the world, how many times you help save the world: the terror springs fresh each time. Each time there is that moment of uncertainty where the situation is still undefined, where it could turn out to be something random: just a mundane abduction, a mundane robbery, a mundane slave trade organisation picking their latest victims off the street. Normal things. No magic. No ancient spirits.

And all it takes to shatter that illusion and make them despair at their situation in the same heartbeat which gives birth to a liberating hope is the mention of Yuugi's name.

They don't know what these people want from them, though they need not ask – not after everything they've been through with Yuugi. Because of Yuugi. It's just another story to duel for, and they're there just for support. They're there to see events unfold and help carry the burden.

As for the situation at hand…Well… Whoever leads the men who captured them will want to duel Yuugi. They always do. And Yuugi will win. He always does.

Both Honda and Anzu just wish they'd known sooner that trouble was brewing. They would have alerted Yuugi and then perhaps they might have avoided becoming bargaining chips. It seems that his opponents are learning from the mistakes of their forerunners: the King of Games has only one weakness – his friends.