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Crash
Summary: Jack Atlas is a legend in the Satellite—although, not for the reason one would expect.
Rating: T
Warning: Major character death, angst
Notes: Poppo Time in this story is not located in the same place as the anime. Here, it is in the Satellite. Also, Yusei and co. learn that Kiryu is dead and make him a pseudo grave before Jack leaves the Satellite.
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Jack Atlas is restless. He paces back and forth before the ceiling-to-floor window of his luxurious suite in the most expensive part of New Domino city, and he broods.
It has been several years since he'd escaped from the filth of the Satellite. All that time, he has reigned as King of Duelists, crushing any opponent who dares try to usurp his throne; there have been many, but none of them have been any better than the dirt beneath his boots. Duelists have come from all walks of life, all corners of the globe just to duel him and fail. He's the best duelist in the world, and he knows it. He has held onto the title of King since he was nineteen.
Jack is almost thirty now. He knows he will not retire anytime soon.
The King continues to pace. He broods.
Jack has everything he has ever dreamed of: the title of king, the respect, the fans, the girls, his suite, his Duel Runner, his deck, his reputation, his fame…
He breathes in, and the air of his suite is clean and cold.
What is missing?
He stops his pacing and looks out the window across the water. Slate gray smoke is curling from a factory on the faraway island across the bay; it looks like a speck of dust ready to be blown away by the wind.
Jack frowns. He knows exactly what is bothering him.
It's Yusei Fudo. He has been on his mind a lot recently.
Jack takes out the Stardust Dragon card from his deck holster and stares at it. The picture on the card sparkles, but it somehow seems dimmer than it had been in the past. It is a ridiculous notion, yes, but he has had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach for years whenever he has looked at this card. Jack used to take it out and just smirk at it, thinking about just how much his life has improved since stealing it from Yusei.
Jack used to think that Stardust's golden eyes shined like crystals. Now, they seem to glower at him.
He avoids looking at Stardust nowadays.
He does not regret his actions. His lifestyle does not allow for regrets.
Jack's breath is fogging the window. He steps back and watches the circle of condensation shrink until the glass is clear again. The still-curling smoke from the Satellite is starkly visible against the darkening sky.
Yusei. He has been expecting to duel Yusei since he had first taken the throne.
That was over ten years ago. Jack has long since grown impatient.
He doesn't like waiting, but it seems like that is all he has been doing. No opponent besides Yusei will satisfy him now; they all pale in comparison to his future victory against Yusei—his long-time rival, his only equal, his antithesis.
He grows angered at the thought of some nobody defeating Yusei in the time they have been apart. He closes his eyes and lets out a hissing breath, hoping to whatever god out there that Yusei has remained as undefeated as Jack has, preparing only for their inevitable duel.
It will be glorious, Jack thinks. He pictures Yusei riding behind him on his Runner—his mind's eye imagines that it's the gray, unpainted one made from scrap metal that he'd stolen years ago, as impossible as it might be—and his golden-streaked hair whips about in the rush of wind as he drives. Those fathomless blue eyes will spark an array of emotion when they meet his: recognition when he sees how much Jack has grown, anger for insignificant past slights against his useless friends, determination to duel him seriously at last, panic for when he realizes that he will lose.
Resignation when he realizes that he has lost, that Jack has been right all along. Jack craves that moment.
He has imagined their duel every day for the last twelve years, but he cannot seem to envision Yusei being any older than sixteen. It has been so long; the last vision he has of Yusei is from that stormy day so long ago, his accusing yet hurt look of betrayal as he turned his back on Jack and dived into the heaving surf to save Rally. It is an unforgettable image, but even that is fading away as the years pass.
This will not do. Jack is getting older, and he has had enough.
No more, he thinks. No more waiting.
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Jack speaks to Goodwin about pulling a few strings to allow him a day of free reign in the Satellite.
Goodwin has known since the beginning that he wishes to duel one Yusei Fudo. Perhaps the director has become impatient, too, or has become annoyed with Jack's behavior as of late, as he gives his consent surprisingly quickly.
Goodwin promises that arrangements will swiftly be made. He walks away looking preoccupied and perhaps a little worried, muttering to a surprised Lazar about dragons and markings or something or another, but Jack cannot care less.
He has gotten what he wants, as always.
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The Satellite is just as filthy and low as Jack remembers. The roads are uneven and strewn with debris—his Duel Runner bumps along unpleasantly, and he is forced to slow down to avoid tire damage, much to his irritation—and the buildings are slathered in grime and graffiti, some rickety and falling apart with parts of walls and roofing collapsed. The sky is gray, and it looks ready to rain.
Somehow, it is worse than he remembers.
Jack drives along the great crack in the road. It is jagged and gaping and impossibly dark within, and he grimaces at the thought that he used to play in there in his childhood. He glowers at the crag and rides on.
He does not know where Yusei might be. Goodwin and all his resources had been useless in that regard; he'd stopped monitoring the ramshackle area after smuggling Jack out and did not want to risk either of their reputations by sending out a search party for one insignificant Satellite, as covert as such an operation could have been.
Jack had just scoffed at the information. He'd been planning on seeking Yusei out on his own, anyway.
If Yusei will not come to him, he will go to Yusei. He has his mind set on it.
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There is no sign of his rival in the hovel he and his little friends had occupied years ago. The building—or what is left of it—has caved in, and there are no knick-knacks or clothes or any other sign of occupation in the rubble. Jack supposes that he should have expected it; Yusei has probably added on to his gaggle of strays and moved somewhere else to accommodate them all. This place and its emptiness are most likely due their migration.
It only makes Yusei harder to find. Jack scowls.
He decides to go to the Satellite's makeshift market. Someone will surely have seen him there.
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When he arrives, Jack is met with an odd, unsettling sight.
There are many people in the market—ragged, grungy, worn people, several bearing the mark of a criminal etched on their hollow faces. They recognize him; Jack sees it in their eyes.
However, they are silent. They do not call out to him, wave at him as he walks past, try to stop him to ask for an autograph.
They don't crowd around him and scream his name. There are no reporters, no pictures of himself to be signed. No cameras are flashing, and no one approaches him. A dangerously thin mother actually draws her son back into the shadows of an alleyway when the small child steps out into the street towards him, glaring at Jack all the while.
No one even smiles.
They only stare, and the weight of their judgmental gazes somehow feels both suffocating and unnerving.
It is unexpected—he's done so well for himself, they should be proud—but Jack does not let this deter him. He strides confidently towards one of the shabby stands, one dealing scrap metal, deeming it as the most likely stand that Yusei would frequent. The man behind the table, his hands slick with oil and grime, greets him with a nasty smile. He has a triangle criminal mark just underneath the corner of his eye, and it looks like a yellow tear drop.
"Well, well. Lookit what we got here: Jack Atlas, in the flesh!" he exclaims, wiping at a rusty gear with a stained cloth. "Fresh from the television, looks like!"
His voice is gruff and raspy, probably a smoker. Jack notices that patches of his gums are black.
He continues, "Now, what're yeh doin' out here in these gloomy parts? Thought you'd made a name for yourself in the big city, left your good buddies behind doin' it."
"As if you would know anything about that," Jack replies with a scowl, meanwhile wondering how he'd known. Perhaps Yusei mentioned it in passing. "All I want to know is this: do you know Yusei Fudo? Do you know where he is?"
There is a gasp behind him, and when he turns around a ragged young woman is looking at him with wide eyes and a hand clamped over her mouth. The other Satellites around him are staring at him with a mixture of surprise, disappointment, and anger, some even with outrage. An older man holds back his fuming younger companion by the shoulder, murmuring, "I know, I know…"
Jack furrows his eyebrows in confusion and offense, but he turns back to the stand when the vendor barks out a laugh. The sound is ugly, coarse and roiling in Jack's ears.
The vendor grins and shakes his head. "You've a lotta nerve comin' here, Atlas," he says. His tone is vaguely threatening. "It's not a hard thing to get, that no one likes you in these here parts. You're somethin' of a legend in the Satellite, ya know?"
Jack raises an eyebrow at this. "Of course I am," he replies. "I'm the best duelist in the world. But I didn't come here to listen to things I already know, so tell me: where's Yusei Fudo?"
The vendor laughs again, but it is definitely not as humorous as the first.
"Now don't get yer feathers in a ruffle, Atlas. I'll help yeh out." The people behind him are murmuring and shifting about restlessly, but Jack pays them no attention. He watches as the vendor points a greased finger towards the west. The man says, "O'er there, 'bout three miles in that direction, there's a little auto shop called Poppo Time. You'll get the info yeh want there."
An auto shop. It sounds like Yusei.
The King says nothing more, whirling around and heading directly back to his Duel Runner. The crowd of Satellites part before him, but it is less out of awe and more like they do not want to touch him. Their stares seem to rip him apart from behind as he mounts the Wheel of Fortune and drives away.
Jack's skin is prickling beneath his collar.
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Poppo Time is as small and unremarkable as expected. Judging from the sign above the entrance, it had used to be a clock shop. It is inconsequential to Jack; he raps sharply against the door with the back of his hand.
Jack waits. He wells inside with anticipation, hoping that it will be Yusei to answer the door.
It's not. The entrance cracks open, and a familiar-looking young man with tied-back curly red hair stands in the doorway. He rubs at his tired eyes and says drearily, "Welcome to Poppo Time, what can I do for y—"
He cuts off when he actually sees who is in front of him. He's wide awake now; his mouth drops open and his eyes widen in surprise, but they narrow just as quickly into angry slits.
"You!" he exclaims. His voice is accusatory and absolutely livid, and he looks ready to either punch him or slam the door in his face or both.
Jack does not even pay attention to his rage; he stares until he suddenly recognizes the twenty-or-so-year-old before him.
"Rally?" he asks in disbelief.
"You," Rally repeats, and he sounds nothing like the little boy Jack had known, "how dare you come back here? You've done enough, you bastard! Why aren't you satisfied? What more do you want to take from us? What's left for you to take…?"
His fury is waning, rapidly morphing into despair.
"… We don't have anything more for you," he whispers. "Why, why did you have to come back…? You weren't supposed to come back. We don't have anything more…"
Rally is quickly withering before him, and Jack can only stare, disturbed and uneasy at the sight.
"Rally?" Voices call out from within the shop, and footsteps are approaching the entrance. "Rally, who is it? Are you alright? Thought we heard yelling—"
Yusei's old friends appear behind Rally, and they freeze at the sight of Jack outside. They stare at each other for a few terse seconds—punctuated by Rally's incoherent mutterings about rip tides and bubbles—until a white-faced Blitz says carefully, quietly, "Tank, Nervin, go on and take Rally upstairs… I'll… I'll talk to Jack."
The two look hesitant, but Blitz shoots them a pleading look and they jump into action. They wrap their youngest friend's arms around their shoulders, murmuring comforting mantras like "You'll be alright, buddy, don't worry. You'll be okay," into the aggrieved youth's ears as they drag him away from Jack and up the stairs.
In the opened door, Jack spots Yusei's blue jacket draped across the arm of a shabby sofa. It's a little tattered and faded, but it is undoubtedly Yusei's. His confidence assured, Jack straightens his shoulders and crosses his arms, allowing a sneer to adorn his lips. He's back in his element.
Once Rally is out of earshot, Blitz turns back to Jack. He looks tired.
"… What do you want?" he sighs.
"What, not even a hello for your old friend?" Jack baits with a smirk.
He doesn't take it. "I don't have time for this, Jack," Blitz tells him. He's aged visibly; creases are evident around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. "No one does. Now, cut the bullshit and spit it out. What are you doing here?"
Jack considers taunting the thin, weathered man a bit more, but he decides against it. The King is on a schedule, after all, and he has waited for his fateful opponent long enough.
"Yusei," he replies with resolution. His eyes are steely. "I want to know where Yusei is. He owes me a duel."
Blitz looks speechless at this for some reason. He opens his mouth to say something but seemingly decides against it, instead shaking his head wearily.
"... You wanna know where Yusei is? Fine." His tired gaze meets Jack's determined one. He murmurs, "He's with Kiryu in the old graveyard."
Jack only nods.
"Good," he says, turning around and heading eagerly back to his awaiting Runner. "Now we can settle this once and for all."
"Jack!" Behind him, Blitz sounds alarmed. "Jack, wait, you can't—!"
Jack doesn't hear him over the roaring engine and his squealing tires.
At long last. His gloved fingers tighten around the handlebars in anticipation, and he grins uncontrollably.
At last.
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He parks the Wheel of Fortune at the bottom of the hill. The graveyard is at the top, and the orphanage where Jack had met Yusei to begin with is only a few minutes away on foot. Here, the scenery is composed of the only forest in all the Satellite, but the green is overshadowed by the churning gray clouds overhead. It casts everything in a dreary shadow, but as Jack canters leisurely up the hill, he cannot remember a time he has been so enthused.
He has been met with quite a few odd sights today, but they have done nothing to blight his enthusiasm. After so long, Yusei will at last be before him once more, facing each other eye-to-eye as men, and he will finally give him the duel he has always dreamed of.
Everything Jack has done has come to this. At this point, he is willing to admit that perhaps everything he does comes back to Yusei, one way or another. That is alright with him, though; once Jack has won this duel, he can put Yusei and that haunting, unfathomable, blue-eyed gaze behind him once and for all.
After this, he vows to himself, he will think no more of the Satellite and what he left behind. He will think only of his dueling and his career.
No regrets.
Resolute, Jack crests the top of the hill.
"Yusei!" he immediately calls out. "Yusei, it's Jack Atlas, the Duel King! So this is where you have been hiding! It's about time you stopped being a coward and face me!"
There is no answer except for a startled flock of birds taking off into the slate-colored sky. The graveyard is silent, and there is no one there.
Jack is bewildered. His confusion quickly morphs to outrage at Yusei for eluding him yet again.
"Yusei!" he roars. "Yusei Fudo! I'm here for you! Come out here and duel me like a man! Or are you too scared?"
He stalks forward into the graveyard, striding past broken pieces of asphalt and cement serving as makeshift headstones, adorned with various colors of faded marker and sometimes worn, amateur chiseled engravings of name after name of dead Satellite residents. The names are squeezed together on each slab, sometimes overlapping with the most recent on top, layer after layer of names; there are far too many dead people and far too little space. The pieces of stone, perhaps once arranged neatly in rows like a normal graveyard, are strewn haphazardly across the hilltop, some stacked in uneven piles and others even having rolled to the bottom of the hill at the mercy of gravity.
Jack notices none of this. He is growing more and more frantic at Yusei's prolonged absence, pacing back and forth and looking this way and that, searching desperately for a flash of black and gold.
He screams, "Yusei! Yusei, where are you, goddammit? You think you can run from me?" Jack draws ragged gasps, nearly tripping on a cement block and not even noticing. He goes on, "Do you know how long I've waited for this moment? It was for you, Yusei, just for you! Where the fucking hell are you, Yusei!"
Not even the birds answer him. The hilltop is silent.
Jack shakes his head and runs anxious gloved fingers through his hair. Blitz lied to him, he knows it; he had seen Yusei's jacket inside the shop, so they must be lying.
That must be it. They are hiding Yusei from him. That's all.
That's all.
Jack calms considerably, but his blood is still hot and his eyes still livid. He makes his way towards the back of the graveyard, then, deciding to take it out on the one person who he knows is here but cannot escape from him: Kiryu.
He thinks about what to say as he passes several slabs and bundles of withered flowers—"Look at me now, friend, see what I've become! I've made it so far, and look at you, with all your wasted hopes and dreams! They lie in a ditch somewhere, just as you likely are, dying just as you lived,"—but Jack pauses when he sees a particularly decorated grave at the very back of the cemetery.
There is an actual headstone there, much to his surprise; Satellites do not have the money or resources for such things. Intrigued, he forgets about Kiryu for the moment and approaches the burial place.
As far as graves go, this one is nothing special, but in the Satellite it almost seems sacred. Flowers—still alive and some even tied with precious pieces of ribbon—are streamed across the top and around the grave like offerings; vines creep up the front, back, and sides like an embracing blanket of green around the stone.
The headstone itself is not extraordinary, looking like it had been carved from a good-sized chunk of concrete but with obvious care. Jack trails a hand against a hand-made groove.
He glances down and strangely, there are letters strewn about at the base of the headstone. Curiosity piqued, he picks one up, and it is just a folded scrap of paper with the name of the addressed scrawled on the front flap.
It says, "To Yusei," and Jack's heart stops.
He drops that letter and picks up another.
"Yusei, hi, I'm—"
He picks up another.
"Dearest Yusei—"
And another.
"Yusei Fudo, I—"
Another.
"Hello, Yusei! How are—"
Another!
"Dear Yusei, I—"
Another!
"Yusei, I am so—"
Jack's fingers are shaking as he swipes a hand over the letters to spread them out. His kindled gaze pans over them in desperation.
They are all addressed to Yusei.
"Hi, Yusei, you don't know me but—"
"Yusei Fudo, my brother—"
"Dear Yusei, my name is—"
He stares at them all, mouth open and breathing heavily. Suddenly, he glances up at the vine-covered headstone. Jack reaches out towards it, and he watches how his outstretched hand trembles as it touches the vines.
He knows, now, why Yusei has not sought him out. He knows that the reason is resting just beneath his hand, but a part of him refuses to believe it. He doesn't want to believe it.
Jack clenches his jaw and rips the vines from the front of the headstone.
"Yusei Fudo," the engraving, old and weathered, reads. "Our Dear Friend."
Bile rises to the back of Jack's throat. He feels sick.
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"Ah! I see you've calmed down."
Jack's shoulders stiffen at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He turns his head, and he spots a rickety old man hobbling his way up the hill towards him. The aged stranger is dressed in a worn kimono, and he totters about as he walks; his back is hunched over, his knees are knobby, and he brandishes a cane that is currently being pointed right at Jack.
"And it's about time you did!" the old man continues, shuffling his way to the top of the hill and into the graveyard. He doesn't seem to recognize Jack. "Why, I could hear you hollerin' all the way from my place oe'r yonder!" He gestures over his shoulder with a thumb, shaking his head. "Thought you mighta seen a ghost or somethin', so I came to check on ya. You're not the first, sir; some people get mighty unsettled when they come 'round here, seein' weird things… Oh, right, I'm Yanagi, by the way!"
Jack does not reply. His eyes fall, and he glances silently back at the headstone.
The old man hobbles closer. He has a criminal mark beneath his right eye.
"Ah!" he exclaims again when he sees exactly which grave Jack's kneeling before. His gold tooth is visible as he speaks. "I see you're checkin' on ol' Yusei here! That's alright; lotsa people like to come by and talk to him. Get things off their chest, make sure he ain't lonely. Things like that."
Yanagi stands beside Jack and reverently taps three times at the base of the stone with his cane, nodding to himself.
"You probably wanna be left alone now, sir, I understand," he says, beginning to turn away. "Sorry for disturbin' ya."
Jack does not know what possesses him to do so, but he calls out, "Wait!" and the old man stops and looks at him again.
"Y'need something, sir?"
Jack inhales slowly, and the air is humid and sickly sweet, smelling of dug-up dirt and rotting flowers. He needs to know.
The King glances back to the headstone and asks in a straining voice, "… Yusei. When did he die…? How… how did he die?"
Yanagi looks surprised. "Oh! Thought everyone knew that story, but I suppose not," he says, hobbling back over to Jack. He leans heavily on his cane with one hand and rubs thoughtfully at his chin with the other. "Let's see… I was in the Facility when it happened, but I heard all 'bout it when I got released. It was, ah… seven, eight, no, ten years ago… Wait, no, twelve! Yes, it was twelve years ago!
"Now, I'm guessin' you don't know much 'bout Yusei, so I'll tell ya what I know," Yanagi goes on. "Yusei was just a boy back then, only sixteen years old, already so brave! So many hopes and dreams he had! They were all for his friends, though, not for him; he always put them first, bless his soul. He was a kind boy—an honorable, courageous boy. He had a nice group of friends that cared 'bout him… well, 'cept for one."
The old man's eyes are wide as he speaks, his many wrinkles stretching across his face at the movement. He is gesturing wildly with his free hand, and it's like he's telling an old folk legend.
Jack's stomach drops, and he feels uneasy.
"You know Jack Atlas, don't you?" Yanagi asks, and then laughs at himself. "Ah, of course you do! You young'ns know all about those famous people in the big city, eh? But I bet you didn't know this—" He leans in and whispers conspiratorially, "Jack Atlas is a Satellite! He used to be Yusei's friend! They even went to the same orphanage together!"
Jack swallows and glances at the ground. The white leather of his gloves strains as his fingers clench.
"No one's real sure of the details, but what we do know is that Jack betrayed him, one way or another," Yanagi goes on. His voice is serious now. "Yusei an' his friends trusted him 'cause they thought he was their friend, but he was really plotting to steal the Duel Runner Yusei so painstakingly made and take off to make it big in New Domino. No warning, no nothin'. He was gonna leave 'em behind, like they were nothing more than the dirt beneath his feet."
Yanagi shakes his head. Jack doesn't look at him.
"It was a stormy day Yusei died, I heard. Monsoon-like, out of the blue!" The old man leans back and looks up at the dark sky overhead. "Omen-like," he says lowly before continuing, "… Well, to get the Duel Runner, Jack kidnapped one of Yusei's friends—this sweet little boy, Rally, only eight at the time… Tied 'im up and set him on a boat out in the docks, where the water was all churnin' and crashin' about an' probably ready to capsize that little boat and send Rally with it. Must have been terrified outta his mind, that poor child."
Jack says nothing. He remembers.
"Yusei rode out to the docks as soon as he could. And guess who was there waiting for him? Jack Atlas!" Yanagi sighs and looks troubled. "They talked, but we dunno what either of 'em said. Just that Yusei—brave, brave, Yusei—jumped into those crashin' waves without hesitation, just to save that little boy."
"You'll be okay, Rally, I'm coming! I promise you'll be okay, just hang in there!"
"Yusei! Yusei, please!"
Rally's sobs echo in Jack's ears. That last glimpse of Yusei's face—filled with determination, hurt, and betrayal—flashes behind his eyes, and he feels sick again.
"Yusei did save him. What a courageous act it was." Yanagi leans over and taps at the headstone again. He looks sad. "While Jack Atlas stole the Duel Runner and high-tailed it outta there, Yusei managed to get the boat n' Rally back to shore. Before he could make it out himself, though… he got pulled under."
Jack finally looks at him. His eyes are wide. Fearful.
Yanagi doesn't notice. He murmurs, "The waters were wild that day. Ugly. Strong. Atlas probably planned it just so he wouldn't be able to get out."
His voice is bitter, and Jack feels a dawning horror coming upon him. Yanagi touches the engraving on the stone with a reverent hand.
He says quietly, "Poor Yusei here drowned. Pulled under by a rip current after spendin' up all his energy to save his friend. He was tired. Left too weak to save himself, an' he drowned."
Jack's face is white as the old man beside him sighs once more.
"Yusei was just a boy," he says. "Only sixteen when he died; so much ahead of him, so brave... No one ever found the body, though. Probably got washed out to sea…"
He turns to Jack, who is frozen in place.
He continues, "That boy he saved, Rally… I hear he still has nightmares 'bout it. Dreams of the air bubbles simmerin' at the surface of the water where Yusei got pulled down. Imagine that, eight years old and watching your friend drown right in front of ya, right after savin' ya! It's no wonder. I reckon he would've jumped in right after 'im if he hadn't been all tied up, the poor boy…
"Neither of them would've been there if it wasn't for Jack Atlas, though. Yusei Fudo was betrayed by his friend and died 'cause of it. He's somethin' of a symbol, now: a martyr, some call him, an icon of bravery for others. Mostly, though, most people look up to him for his loyalty and love for his friends. Living in the Satellite, we all gotta make sacrifices. Givin' up your life for your friend: now, there's the ultimate sacrifice.
"Every one of us Satellites remembers Yusei, an' we all remember what Atlas did. No one forgets that sorta betrayal. Friends are all we got here—they're our family and the only people we can rely on in this world—an' doin' that sort of thing to a friend is nothin' short of unforgivable."
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Yanagi quickly leaves him alone after actually looking at Jack and realizing just who he is.
"Jack Atlas! The nerve of you comin' here and disturbin' Yusei again!" the old man had exclaimed, pointing an accusing, crooked finger at him as he hobbled away, retreating from Jack with a mix of disappointment and disgust on his wrinkled face. "Remember this, Atlas, from all us Satellites to you: you're not famous 'round here for your duel rank or your fancy Runner, oh no! Here, you're famous for betraying the people who loved you, and killing the one who loved you most!
"You should leave this place and never come back, sir! Go back to your sparkling city, your fancy condos, your perfect life...! There's no place for the like of ya here! No place at all!"
Those words echo through his head as the heavy clouds hanging above relent to their weight and finally allow a downpour of rain to fall from the dark sky. It plips and plops against the dirt around him; his Turbo uniform is getting muddy and sticky, but Jack does not notice.
All he sees is that Yusei's headstone is perfectly angled to shield the letters strewn at the bottom of the stone from the onslaught of rain. Miraculously, they are safe and dry at its foot.
The protector of hopes and dreams. The brave one. The martyr. He wonders what Yusei would say to those titles.
They are not as grand as Duel King, surely. Surely…
Jack breaths in the scent of rain and allows the downpour to soak him to the bone. He clicks open his deck holster and finds Stardust Dragon.
He stares at it one more time and says nothing. The white dragon's mournful gaze means nothing to him anymore, so he finds himself laying it on top of the letters at the foot of Yusei's headstone. The rain doesn't touch it.
The King stares at the name engraved in the stone. It mocks him and tells him that he has lost. He defeated himself twelve years ago, and it is he who has been the loser all this time.
All these years, and he's never even known it.
Jack throws back his head and screams, but the horrifyingly broken sound is muted out by a roiling boom of thunder overhead. The light cracks like a whip against the sky, lasting only for a second, maybe less; it illuminates the gray storm clouds above and washes everything in pure white.
Jack stares up at it, eyes wide and desperate, and it is blinding.
Wind and rain whipping at his face, he whispers Yusei's name, and only thunder is his answer.
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Jack has heard that each Dark Signer is a person who died with a great will to live. He tells himself this when he is faced with Yusei's chilling blood red eyes and crazed, twisting grin.
"You made me, Jack," Yusei tells him with wild excitement from across their makeshift duel arena—the run-down building that he and his friends used to live in before he'd died. "You did this to me, and you know it's your fault. You betrayed me, you killed me, and this is the price."
The Dark Signer facing him looks like Yusei but is nothing like the person Jack had known. He is only sixteen, slight and unassuming and frozen in time, but the darkness and twisting pain behind his eyes is murderous, hateful, nothing like his Yusei's kind, blue-eyed gaze.
The sinisterly warped Yusei before him now spreads his arms out to the murky sky, and his dark cape billows behind him like a shadow. The purple mark burned into his skin glows brightly, violently, excitedly.
"I only live now because of your betrayal—you drowned me! I remember it well, Jack; the icy seawater filling my lungs, burning my nose and throat as I sunk deeper and deeper into the abyss! Choking, corroding, dying… I was weak, helpless; I want to make you feel the same! I want you to suffer like I did, Jack.
"I came back just for you! After so long, here I am. Let us duel together once more, my dear, dear friend!"
Ash falls from the sky as the arena glows with a pulsing purple light.
Desperately, Jack cries out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Yusei, I'm so sorry!" but Yusei only bursts into peals of mad, mad laughter.
The sound booms like the thunder over the graveyard, and Jack regrets.
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