title: hope fills your sails
summary: [zorc wins au] Everyone else is gone. Honda though, Honda is still here, Honda, who is a bastion of stability in a world gone mad. Anzu-centric, slight Supportshipping.
Author's note: For the few people who know of my AU Miho Tumblr RP account, this occurs in the same universe. Warnings for major character death.
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
—T.S. Eliot, the Hollow Men
Zorc Necrophades wins against the Pharaoh on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Anzu still remembers the taste of the strawberry ice cream sundae she had for breakfast that day, the sour bite of just this side of unripe strawberries clashing with the viciously sweet red syrup drizzled on top. Sometimes, phantom feelings settle upon her, and she remembers vividly the too cold weight of it, and the way it settled uncomfortably in her stomach, heavy with the feel of temporary regret.
They lose Jounouchi on a Thursday, the fourth day of the fourth month of the year, death, death, death. Only after four days does she start dreaming of him. Her memories of it are unclear, but in the rare unguarded moments where the constant stress of being on the look out for stray Duel Monsters is temporarily alleviated, she sees the purple, black, purple, of bruises blooming across his arms. His last play, a sacrifice for his friends, is accompanied by a smile. It haunts her, a Cheshire grin which haunts the black of her closed eyes.
She wakes from her nightmares silently with tears building, and something, a sob, or perhaps a scream, locked in her throat.
Honda's always there, and she holds onto his warm body, and shakes, trying not to shed tears. She never thanks him, and he never says anything.
It's funny how it is the non-duelists who are left behind on this sinking ship. No, that's not right. At least they can fight on. At least they can try.
Hiroto Honda has always been a bastion of stability, a pillar of normality in their strange tiny world of CEOs and magic and shadows and the legacy of Ancient Egypt, it's cold dead fingers clasped onto the wrist of new generations, it's unfinished business looming in the distance.
The Pharaoh is gone. Jounouchi is gone. And so is Yuugi.
Honda is the one who's still here, his warm hands covering hers as he gently adjusts her fingers. His presence steadies her. Anzu inhales, and wishes for clean air. She pulls the trigger.
The crack draws the attention of the nearby Duel Monsters, and Honda is away from her in a flash, moving quickly into position. He handles the air rifle with ease, and each pull of the trigger hits its target. One hit kills, back in the day where games were still a possibility.
Now it's just survival.
Between them, they have: a sharpshooter's skills, a motorcycle, a dancer's agility and experience. It is no where near enough.
Focus, she thinks, and exhales, forcing the nervous tension out.
Honda taps her shoulder, giving her the all clear. Anzu nods, and he must see something in her, because he places a warm heavy hand on her shoulder, and smiles. It's comfort enough. She nods, and pads her way down the stairs, soft as you please, and through the broken glass of the former door to the building.
The street is clear, and no matter how many times they do this, it's still eerie, the way there's not a sound to be heard. Anzu sweeps her gaze across the expanse of the street. Nothing. There's an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, but this is the best chance they've had in ages. She makes her way across to the abandoned 7-11, her body tense and alert, and places a hand against the door.
There's a loud crack, and Anzu leaps to the left, where there's solid concrete against her back. There's nothing in front of her, nor to her sides. There's another sharp crack, accompanied by a loud screech of pain. Up? Perhaps, but she can't risk anything sneaking up at her from around her. She has to trust.
Another crack, and this time, there's a loud thump as the carcass lands in front of her.
Anzu stares at it in horror. It looks like nothing of the Duel Monsters that have been released upon the world, free to rampage. It's a semi-gelatinous thing, like something out of the one H. P. Lovecraft book she's ever read, constantly shifting in form and shape, even as a colourless liquid, what must be it's blood equivalent, leaks out of the warping form.
Just looking at it makes her dizzy.
When she exits the 7-11, it's dissipating, it's pixels slowly melting into the air. She gives the thing one last look, swallows the bile in her throat, and walks back.
They sit around the small collection of food - dried fruit, a few chocolate bars, bottles of water, instant noodles, and a packet of seaweed - in silence. Honda bites on his lip, mouth opening a little every few moments, as if there's something he wants to say, but isn't sure how to say it to her.
"Things are getting worse," he says, eyeing the chocolate bars. Anzu silently hands one to him, and frowns as he opens the wrapper, one elbow steadied by it's resting place in his lap, and the other pulling against it. She catches the edge of a grimace of pain before his face smooths out, blank.
"What do you mean by that?" Anzu says, when it's clear he's waiting for her reply.
"You saw the shape of that... Thing... Nothing we've seen before looks like that."
She nods, wondering what his point is.
"It disappeared slower than they usually do, as well."
Weariness settles down on her. She's tired of this. She's so sick and tired of all the running they've had to do. As far as they know, their friends, the Duelists, the ones who know these things, are dead. Dead, and not coming back. Even if there was so much at stake before, everyone had always kept their lives. Nobody had died.
"It's not supposed to be this way," Anzu says, soft.
"Anzu," he says.
She looks at him. There's a new straightness to his posture and his mouth is set in a determined, hard line.
"There have to be other people out there. Even if..." She finishes the sentence for him in her head. Even if they haven't seen anyone in two weeks.
"Kaiba made weapons before he switched to card games, and Mokuba is a tough brat."
He grimaces, and pulls up his sleeve to reveal three bloody scratches across his arm, although they're not actively bleeding. So that's what he was hiding. Before she can say anything, he speaks.
"I didn't want to worry you about these, but a monster appeared as I was opening the door. It would have gotten my head if not for the fact that another monster appeared, and attacked it before they both disappeared." He pauses, looking uncertain, and then says. "It looked like one of Jounouchi's monsters. The Baby Dragon."
She catches on to his implied meaning almost immediately.
"You mean-"
"Yeah. I wasn't sure, because it was over so quickly, but-"
"He might be-"
"Alive."
Anzu clasps their hands together. She wants to laugh, she wants to dance. Honda's smiling, and there's something that looks like hope in his eyes, bright and happy, and it makes him beautiful. Without thinking, she leans in and presses her lips against his. He freezes for a moment, before he kisses back, soft and chaste.
When they separate, they stare at each other, eyes locked, dozens of aborted movements shifting closer and further away from existence in that awkward silence.
"Anzu-"
"I know."
There are dozens of things left unsaid between them, new possibilities for the future.
The next day, Anzu stands guard as Honda fills up the tank of his motorcycle. There's a new wind in her face, and hiding behind it, the ever present stench of shadow miasma. But there's hope still, and she won't be quelled.