Most of my stories come from a certain question that pops into my head. In this case, it was: "How in the name of LittleKuriboh would a set of priceless and powerful cards land in the hands of a few [pre-]teens, half of whom live in slums?"

These stories will show a variety of possible answers, most of which will go into dangers far beyond card games.

/ / /

Gentle string-instrumental music lilted throughout the softly-lit restaurant, and murmurs of small talk and laughter rose and fell from various tables and booths. At the front of the restaurant, there stood a slim man in a slate-gray suit with curly, light gray hair tied back behind his shoulders. He waited motionlessly, with his gloved hands held behind his back.

His hands trembled slightly, or at least his right hand did. His mind flashed to a raw memory, of dizziness and harsh fluorescent light, of lying on his back strapped to a bench, of gut-twisting pain so prolonged and undying that he had thought he would vomit–

The gray-suited man shook his head, took a deep breath, and willed himself back to the present. All of that was over. The doctor had settled the favor. Now, it was all up to him.

He looked up in plenty of time to see the front door open and to see a gaunt, black-suited man enter the restaurant. He greeted the new arrival immediately, "Good evening, Okabe."

The bony man met his gaze from behind tiny wire-framed spectacles. He nodded curtly, "Godwin."

The restaurant's smiling hostess guided both men to a booth well away from the other guests. No sooner had the men settled themselves when a waiter appeared beside them. "Good evening, gentlemen. Thank you for joining us tonight."

Okabe did not accept one of the proffered menus.

Smoothly, the waiter inquired, "Would you care for a drink to start?"

The dark-suited man's beady eyes flashed. "No. No, I would not care for a drink. Leave us now."

"Oh, come now, Okabe," said the gray-haired man across the table. "The whisky here is excellent. It's on me."

"This is no time for–!" But his complaint met no reaction, as Godwin had already told the waiter what to bring, with the waiter bowing at the selection. Even before the waiter was out of sight, Okabe hissed, "This is no time for fooling around, Godwin."

The gray-suited man half-sighed, letting his grin soften to a gentler smile. "Of course not, Okabe. I'm on your side here. I can't guess how much stress you've been through this week–"

"Oh, I bet you couldn't!"

"–so I say you deserve a little something to pay off your labors."

Okabe blinked, feeling a drop of sweat outside the corner of his eye. He took off his spectacles and used a silk handkerchief to polish them and dab at his face.

The waiter returned, bearing bottle and glasses. Godwin signaled for the waiter to pour Okabe's drink first, and when they were both ready, he toasted his guest. "Kanpai."

The other man raised his glass stiffly before taking a quick swallow.

Godwin sipped his own drink, feeling an accompanying rush of adrenaline bring clarity to his senses. It felt quite invigorating alongside the vivid, throat-warming flavor.

Okabe put his half-empty glass down with a clunk. "So? Let's conclude our business!"

Lightly, Godwin set his own glass down. "You've met my terms?"

Okabe's fingers twitched. "Show it to me first."

Godwin reached for his jacket, unbuttoning it and half-opening one side. His inner pocket contained a flat metal case the size of a notepad. He kept his calm smile as he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Okabe reached into his own jacket pocket, removing a flat leather portfolio of similar size and setting it on the table.

Godwin laid the metal case on the table, noting how the other man's eyes followed his every motion. After a silent moment, both men opened their cases.

Okabe gasped for breath. "It really does exist..."

Godwin did not reply, only glancing down long enough to see that the leather portfolio contained the cash and bearer bonds he had specified, all in the right amounts.

Okabe took his handkerchief back out, wiping another trickle of sweat from his eyebrow. "Stardust Dragon..." From another pocket, he fished out a small lens, holding it to his eye and scrutinizing the card, with its image of a cloud-white dragon. The illustrated monster had a slender but wiry body with wide wings, sharp limbs and claws, and a long neck leading to a streamlined head.

Godwin sipped his drink again, with one hand still resting on the metal case as he let the other man examine the card.

Finally, Okabe pocketed the lens and met Godwin's eyes. "Very well. We have a deal."

"Excellent," replied Godwin. Both men closed their cases, slid them across the table, and pocketed their new possessions. Godwin added, "Will you stay and let me get you dinner?"

"Thank you," said Okabe with measured composure, "That's very... generous of you, but I must return to my office immediately." He drained his glass.

"Of course. Let's do business again soon."

Okabe stood up without another word and left the restaurant.

Godwin sipped his own drink, and he smiled again when the waiter returned. It was high time for a celebratory meal, though not quite as expensive as he might have ordered. He had sold all three of his treasures, giving him just enough to make a new start in any city, even Neo Domino.

He could only hope that he would also succeed in building an influential name for himself. Fate would lead the dragons to their true Signers, but he would need every possible advantage to prepare for the war.

As the waiter departed with his order, Rex Godwin raised his glass once more in a silent toast to himself, to his brother, and to their future.