Ten-year-old Zane Truesdale looked up from reviewing his deck at the sound of coughing from the other room. It was a quiet cough: his little brother Syrus was nearly over his illness. Still, he wasn't completely recovered, and really, he probably shouldn't have come.
There was a quiet murmuring: their parents, doubtlessly soothing Syrus and urging him to go to sleep, although Zane couldn't make out their words through the closed door that divided the two rooms of the hotel suite. He looked back down at his deck, and waited for all the sounds to stop.
He knew that his parents expected him to be going to sleep any time now, too. After all, the final match of the Junior Dueling Championship was tomorrow morning. However, he also knew that they wouldn't come in to check.
He would like to think that he was perfectly capable of winning the Championship tomorrow. Indeed, he'd better be. His family was here to watch him win. No, more accurately, Syrus was here to watch him win. His adoring little brother, who was so eager to see Zane triumph in this contest that he'd insisted on being here, even though he'd just barely gotten over being sick. So here they all were, in a hotel a city away from home, and Zane owed it to Syrus to win, no matter what.
Unfortunately, he wasn't sure if he could. Sure, he was good, and he had the Cyber deck, but... He'd seen how good his opponent was, too. That kid had sailed his own way to the finals, clearly more easily than Zane himself had. He seriously doubted that he had the skills to beat him. But if he didn't...
It was quiet in the other room now. Slipping his deck back into his pocket, Zane softly crossed the room and turned off the light. There was no light from under the door: they'd gone to bed. He'd expected this. After all, his parents didn't want to keep their sons up tonight, and so they had no reason to stay up themselves. However, Zane wasn't going to bed just yet. If he were to have any chance of success tomorrow, he needed to be as ready as possible, and there were probably more beneficial things to do than sleep.
As quietly as possible, he opened the door to the hallway, then froze, listening. There was no sound of disturbance from the other room. Even so, he didn't dare risk another noise by closing the door again. Leaving it open a crack, he quickly tiptoed down the hall. Once he reached the stairs, he abandoned the need for silence.
Walking down swiftly, he hoped he wasn't wasting his time. The Championship had attracted the dueling enthusiasts, and the lounge downstairs had seen a lot of casual matches earlier in the day. It was less likely there'd be anyone there now, of course, but he'd overheard someone issue a challenge for that night. Some young man, annoyed at being beaten, had demanded a rematch to be held "when there aren't so many distractions", and while his opponent hadn't seemed impressed with him, she'd agreed.
Zane didn't really know what exact timing they'd intended, but he hoped to catch at least some of it. He'd seen just enough earlier to know that the woman, at least, was good, and watching a good duelist in action tonight might inspire him with some ideas for how to duel better tomorrow, at the very least. Even better if he got a chance to talk to her, and ask if she had any tips or suggestions she'd be willing to share.
He was disappointed when he got to the lounge. Most of the lights were out, and there was certainly nobody there. Zane stared around at the empty room for a moment, then started to turn back.
He whirled back toward the room as a voice cried out. It wasn't close enough to be clear, but it sounded like a scared or pained yell, from somewhere just beyond the far side of the lounge. Zane slowly crossed the room, wondering what was going on.
A doorway on the other side of the room led to a wide hallway with several doors opening off it: fancy private rooms, most likely. Had the cry come from one of them? Zane looked around. The doors were all closed, and even in the dimly lit hallway, there was no sign of light from under any of them. Or was there? The boy stared at the first door on the left. It wasn't a light, exactly, but there was a strange flickering of sorts, just visible under the crack. It almost looked like lightning, if much fainter.
Then a voice spoke from the room beyond. Zane recognized it; it was the woman he'd been hoping to find down here. "You asked how I became this good. The answer is simple: by learning under circumstances where you didn't survive if you weren't." Then there was an unidentifiable sound, and a second, louder, cry. Zane was fairly sure it was the voice of the man who'd demanded the rematch.
He slowly backed away from the door until he was pressed against the far wall. Like everybody else who played it, he knew the stories about the darker side of Duel Monsters. If they weren't really just rumors, then it wasn't hard to guess at the meaning of what'd just heard. He should probably run away now. On the other hand, he'd come down here hoping for some expert advice, hadn't he? Whatever else, that woman must surely have that. Maybe a foolish thought, as asking was probably too dangerous. But Syrus was trusting him to win tomorrow...
The door opened. Zane didn't move as the woman stepped out into the hallway. The light was already poor, but the shadows seemed to cling to her, and he could only make out a vague image of a pale face framed by long dark hair and black clothing. She barely glanced at him as turned to walk past.
Zane took a deep breath, then quietly called, "Wait." She paused and looked back. "I'm in the Championship," the ten-year-old boy said quickly, "in the final tomorrow, and I-"
"I know who you are," she interrupted him. "What do you want?" She sounded faintly impatient, but she gave no sign of threatening him. He pushed ahead.
"I was just wondering if I could get some advice, from, from somewhere. You're a skilled duelist, right? I heard..." He trailed off as her eyes narrowed, then quickly said, "It's just, I'm don't know if I can win this, and..."
"That match? You probably can't," she said evenly, "but I'm not a coach."
"So, you have nothing to...?"
"Vital, helpful advice? Hardly." She spoke mockingly, then turned away again, about to leave.
Zane supposed he should be grateful the encounter hadn't gone worse. It would be best if he spoke no more and returned to his room. But then, he couldn't help but thinking, he would be no closer to a hope of victory. How could he risk disappointing Syrus tomorrow, especially if there was still a way not to? Something in the tone of her words had implied...
"Something else, then?" he asked quietly.
The woman stopped, and spoke without turning. "You should stop asking, before you find answers you don't like."
"Maybe," Zane said quietly, "but I asked anyway."
She slowly turned and looked at him again. "You're treading on dangerous ground, child." Zane gazed back resolutely. He knew that. Still, he was determined to at least learn the possibilities, afraid or not.
Suddenly she smiled, though there was nothing pleasant in the expression. "Perhaps you were hoping for something like this?" With a small, quick movement, she held something in her hand. It had something of the appearance of a small crystal, but it reflected the light in a strange, shimmery manner unlike anything he'd ever seem before. It almost didn't look solid.
Zane stared, fascinated, but the woman abruptly closed her hand, hiding it from view. "This was part of someone's mind, once. Essentially, it's pure strategic skill. The one it came from was a highly skilled duelist-- not unbeatable, of course, or I wouldn't hold this now, but then, no one is truly unbeatable. Added to one's existing skills, it would certainly make that person a force to be reckoned with."
"So with that, I could win for sure," Zane said softly. He forced himself to ignore the creepier implications of what she'd said. This could be the perfect answer.
The woman gave a short, derisive laugh. "Doubtless, but it's not as if I'm going to give it to you. Go back where you belong, child."
She again started to turn away, but stopped as Zane asked quietly, "You mean I'd have to duel you for it?"
"Don't be stupid," she said scornfully. "You're here talking to me because you doubt your ability to defeat another child. We both know you'd have no chance against me." She had a point, he knew.
"What would it take, then?" he asked her.
"Forget it," she said dismissively. "Such dealings aren't for the likes of you, and you have nothing to offer of interest to me."
"Does that mean you might sell or trade it?" Zane asked persistently.
The woman gave him a hard, narrow stare. "You have nothing that I want," she repeated coldly. "Nor," she added, "have you any need. What do you really stand to lose or gain in your children's contest of play and illusion? You have nothing at stake."
"Yes I do," Zane said softly. She looked at him mockingly, clearly not believing him. "My little brother will be watching," he explained quietly, staring at the floor. "He thinks I'm the best duelist ever, and he came to see me win, even though he was sick-- even though he still isn't all better. So I have to win, for him. I can't disappoint him." He glanced back up, expecting to meet her still-mocking gaze.
To his surprise, she was looking at him seriously, considering. "You would risk a lot for this brother, I see. Such true and generous sentiment is valuable; so you do have at least one commodity after all."
"What do you mean?" Zane asked uneasily.
"To you, it means nothing-- unless you would actually agree to trade what you think of as the heart for the skill I hold." She'd clearly already concluded that he wouldn't.
In this case, she might be right. "But if I did that... Does that mean I would forget that Syrus was important to me?"
"You would never forget how you felt about him," she explained flatly and precisely. "You would no longer be able to feel it, but you would still be free to act the part-- unless, of course, you chose otherwise, and preferred to leave the memory behind."
"Never," the boy vowed fiercely.
"No matter. I have no better offer for you." She was about to leave.
Zane thought quickly. He didn't really like this arrangement, but if it was the only way? Syrus trusted him to win. How crushed would he be if Zane lost? What if he got sick again? She'd said he could still act the same toward him, that he would always remember how much he cared about him. Even if it seemed different in his own mind, did it really matter, if the results were the same? Wasn't this worth it?
"I accept your trade," he told her firmly. She looked at him in obvious surprise.
"Likely a foolish choice, child."
"I don't care."
"Very well," she said softly. She stepped forward, and he saw her hand start to reach out. Then what dim light there was in the hallway faded, smothered by the thickening shadows. He could no longer see through the darkness, but he felt the brush of icy cold fingers. There was a strange tug in his chest, and the rest of his body felt cold as well, though he didn't shiver. Then a strange sensation entered his head. An infinity of space seemed to burst into being behind his eyes, and he lost track of everything as he fell into it.
When he opened his eyes again, he didn't know how much longer, he was lying on the floor. He dimly noticed that he could see again, and that he was alone. However, he was too dizzy to ponder the situation. Clumsily climbing to his feet, he started unsteadily back the way he'd come.
He didn't really remember most of the walk back to his room, but he vaguely recognized when he'd reached it. He fell into bed and was instantly asleep.
When he woke the next morning, his mind was much clearer. Some of what had happened the night before was a little fuzzy, but he had no doubt of what the end result had been. Briefly, he wondered if he'd made the right choice. If he could win today...
Thinking of the duel ahead, he couldn't help but consider what strategies he might use. There were, he suddenly realized, far greater possibilities than had occurred to him before. He found himself envisioning ever more intricate and effective ways to put his deck to use-- and as he marveled at the possibilities and planned, his doubts were forgotten.
He won, of course. In fact, he dueled so well that his opponent never stood a chance. He felt pride in the victory, when he achieved it, and joy of a sort, though it was a strange, cold joy he was unfamiliar with. He ignored the feeling for now. There were more important considerations.
His family, when he returned to them, were as excited and proud of his victory as he could have hoped. Syrus's face practically glowed with the thrill of his big brother's accomplishment, and in that moment, you would never have known that he had been sick.
"You're the greatest ever, Zane!" he yelled joyfully, and threw his arms around his brother. Zane didn't react at first. Always before, he would have returned the hug automatically, but this time the impulse was gone. After a moment, he raised his own arms, deliberately responding as he'd been used to do.
If Syrus noticed the delay, there was no sign.