Muto Aratani was sitting outside painting when the mail came. Bees buzzed around her, looking for the flower fields that surrounded on all sides the little artist's retreat full of country cottages that she lived in.

"Shoo," she said, unafraid, brushing a bee out of the way. "If you can't find the flowers, you're drunk. Go home. I am not a flower."

It was the clothes she wore, Aratani knew. She was in her sixties, but she still wore bright purple and red colors, sweaters and scarves and dangling earrings, her hair tied up sensibly behind her. She didn't think young people had a monopoly on the cool look and she hated old Grandma clothes.

There was a little veranda in the back of her whitewashed cottage, looking out over a field dotted with trees. Dappled sunlight from the wood carvings in the roof washed over the bird feeder, the ivy climbing up the trellis, the patio chairs and umbrella, the hanging wind chimes. Cigarette butts were stubbed in an ashtray on the side, which was surrounded by little mint candy wrappers. Aratani was aware that cigarettes could kill you, but so could a car wreck.

Aratani contemplated her next move on the painting she was doing. It was not a flowery landscape, nothing so trite. Landscapes were for accomplished women who painted as a hobby, not for artists who lived off of their work. Her paintings were social commentaries full of bizarre images and sharp shapes and angles. The colors were bright, garish, and loud; they made themselves noticed.

She'd had her artwork shown in galleries a few times. She always sent a picture of her latest gallery to her estranged husband, because fuck him. She never got a reply back.

"Mrs Muto?" She heard the call and stood curiously, walking around the building to the front. Her dog was whining at the door; the postman standing there must have rung the doorbell. "Your mail." He handed her some bills, and a letter.

"Who the hell still writes letters?" she asked aloud, staring at it, puzzled. What was so important it couldn't have been put in an email? She looked up at the amused postman. "No offense."

"None taken," he said cheerfully, and walked with his bag of mail back toward his bicycle. That was how small the village retreat was.

"Oh, God," she said aloud to herself in dread as a thought came to her.

"What is it?!" he called, turning back around.

"I just realized who still sends letters," she called back in irritation. "My estranged husband."

The postman laughed and got on his bike. "Good luck, Mrs Muto!" He rode off.

Aratani humphed, hand on her hip. It was rather rude of him, she felt, to give her such a rotten piece of mail and then just leave her standing there. At last, she sighed, and went back inside her house. She sat down on the orange couch in front of the painting of a naked woman being choked to death - she'd found the painting so funny that she'd bought it, something she was not sure the artist had intended - and contemplated the letter.

"I could always disable the smoke alarms and set it on fire," she said aloud to herself thoughtfully. The dog sniffed at her hand and she continued, "Or I could just let Hoshi eat it." Then she paused again and sighed. "Damn my curiosity," she said aloud to herself, and opened the envelope to read the letter. Sure enough, it was Muto Sugoroku's writing.

Aratani,

I know we don't talk anymore. I'm sorry for bothering you. You had good reasons for leaving. But I think our grandson needs your help. You know I wouldn't write if it weren't urgent.

I can't really explain what's going on. You'd have to come to Domino City and see for yourself. But I think only you can help him. Me and his mother don't know how to. He doesn't know I've written to you about anything.

Please try to find it in your heart to come.

With love,

Sugoroku

"How cryptic," she said aloud to herself. "I notice Dad wasn't mentioned. Still a flake, then, eh?" Yuugi's Dad had left the family years ago, some asshole businessman, and they hadn't heard from him since. They'd switched Yuugi's family name to Muto because they didn't think Yuugi deserved the indignity of having to suffer under his father's surname. "And they're all still living in that shitty little city flat above the game shop?"

She sighed and looked away. She didn't have to go. She didn't really want to.

But she'd left home after their daughter had grown. Her grandson had gotten no such privilege. She'd left when he was still a little baby, too young to remember her.

"Well, it's not like I've ever done anything else for him," she said to Hoshi. "Fuck. I guess I'm going to Domino City." She stood, and paused. "What was his name again?" Then she rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's right. Sugoroku got to name him. His name is Yuugi."

Who the hell named their grandson "game" and then made him walk around like that?

Her friends and neighbors came over to bid her farewell before she got into her rented car with her suitcases to leave for Domino City.

"I could help you with those," one older man who wanted to get into Aratani's pants suggested.

"Do it and I'll cut off your left ear. You'll look like Vincent van Gogh," said Aratani flatly. She hefted her own suitcases into the trunk of the car.

"Why are you going to visit your asshole of a husband again?" one of her closest female friends at the retreat asked skeptically.

"I'm not going for him. I'm going for my grandson. My husband says he needs my help. And Sugoroku may have made for a horrible heterosexual life partner with benefits, and a terribly irregular father, but he made for a good grandfather," said Aratani matter of factly. "I saw it in him before I left. I don't know what it is about Yuugi, but he certainly cares more for him than he cares about any of the rest of us."

She wasn't even really angry. Only stating facts. She slammed the trunk of the car shut and looked over everything with satisfaction. "Okay, Hoshi. Get in." She opened the back door of the car and Hoshi, a doberman, jumped into the back seat and sat there, panting. Aratani turned back to her worried and puzzled friends. "Maybe a change of scenery will be good for me. Give me some new painting inspiration," she said.

Aratani tried not to be nervous as she drove. Nerves, she thought, were beneath her. The upside down angel with her head cut off jangled, hung, below her rearview mirror. She twiddled with the radio and flipped it on, turning to a modern music station. She listened to modern music and liked listening to women who belted out songs like they were throwing up their lungs.

What would Sugoroku look like? What would he say? What the hell was so terribly wrong with Yuugi? Why would he need her help in particular? How would he react to seeing her? Would he hate her, for leaving?

Good questions, all, she thought sarcastically. If a bit melodramatic. Aratani despised melodrama.

The drive was long, but the change of scenery was interesting and she didn't mind long drives. When she and Hoshi finally got there, the difference between Domino City and the artist's retreat was obvious. Everything was alien in Domino. Tall buildings, crowded sidewalks, crowded everything. Graffiti. Noise. Smoke. The smell of gas. All manner of odd looking people in the streets. Everything seemed grayer, somehow.

She'd escaped this place and now she was voluntarily coming back. She regretted the decision already.

She sighed. "I must be insane," she muttered to herself, and drove on toward Sugoroku's Kame Game Shop. Her family lived in the flat above it.

She found a parking space near the shop and got out of the car. "Wait here," she told Hoshi, slamming the car door behind her (Aratani was a firm believer that you never did anything halfway, from spitting to shutting doors). She got out, crossed the street, and stood in front of the shop for a moment, expressionless. Then the door opened and someone came out - and there was Sugoroku, small and stooped, gray bearded and wearing overalls.

His eyes widened and he froze. They stared at one another for a moment.

"The building still looks like a pregnant prostitute," Aratani observed. "You're fatter."

Sugoroku snorted and smiled. "You did always know just how to break the ice, Aratani," he said with far too much fondness in his voice. She'd dreaded this. He hadn't gotten over her. Then he smirked. "Your figures still deserve a two thumbs up."

He was either lying or blind. She'd gotten fatter, too, though she supposed she was still small and curvy.

"Down, Fido, I ain't here for you," Aratani drawled. "Now where's the kid -?"

Her question was answered for her. Out came what could only be Muto Yuugi.

"Grandpa, where's -?" He paused, looking up at her. "Um, hello. Who are you?"

Aratani stared down at him, expressionless once more, wondering how to answer that. What was she supposed to say? I'm the bitch who abandoned your family. Yeah. That would go over well. She called his Dad a flake, but in some ways wasn't she just as bad?

Muto Yuugi would be in junior high now, but he was just as small as his grandfather had always been. His clothes did nothing for his figure, his black, gold, and red hair was curled up into spikes that made his face look like an unusually pale tomato, and he looked shy, retiring, wimpy, and innocent bordering on stupid. His eyes were his only nice feature, wide, nicely shaped violet ones.

"I'm your grandmother," she said at last bluntly. Yuugi's eyes widened and he turned to his grandfather.

"Yuugi." Sugoroku smiled. "This is your grandmother Aratani. She's come to visit."

A peculiar expression passed across Yuugi's face. His shoulders hunched, his chin ducked, and he looked up at her hesitantly. "Hello," he said. He didn't like her because she'd left, but he was too shy to say anything and he was trying to avoid a fight. Where the hell had he gotten that from? Certainly not from his mother or his grandparents.

"You don't like that I'm here," said Aratani.

"Well, I -"

"You should say what you really think, Yuugi, or you'll spend the rest of your life letting people walk all over you. I don't mind that you don't like me here, I expected it. I'm a selfish, heartless bitch. I abandoned your family, right?"

Yuugi's eyes were huge with shock. Aratani's expression was still veiled.

"You don't have to like that I'm here, kid," she said. "You just have to treat me upfront and avoid kicking me out onto the street."

Yuugi frowned. He muttered something, ducking his head again.

"Louder, honey."

"I don't like you because you're too much like my father," Yuugi said at last audibly, still not looking at her.

"We really need to work on your confrontational skills," said Aratani. "But thanks for the honesty. Now do you mind helping me carry my suitcases? That way I don't throw out my back and you can avoid the ultimate indignity of having to pay for my medical expenses." Her voice was heavily sarcastic and abrasive. Aratani got that way when she was uncomfortable, which she usually was around timid people.

She and this kid were going to have one hell of a time.

Aratani was to room with her daughter. A camp bed of sorts had been set up in her daughter's bedroom in the above-shop flat. She passed by Yuugi's room on the way, glancing it over curiously. He was very messy, and he'd inherited his grandfather's obsession. Toys, games, and models were littered all over the desk, bed, and floor.

It was almost like that was all he ever did with his time.

Yuugi and Sugoroku set Aratani's suitcases down inside Kaneko's room. Kaneko was standing there, hands on her hips, scowling as she surveyed her mother. Hoshi trotted in behind Aratani and Kaneko gave the animal a distasteful look.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Yuugi and Sugoroku quickly ducked out and shuffled away, sensing tension between two women and practically running from it screaming.

"You came," said Kaneko at last, her features softening. "Thank you."

"I'll try to do whatever I can. I don't think the kid likes me very much," said Aratani honestly.

"Just give him some time. Yuugi's the gentle, forgiving sort," said Kaneko.

Aratani snorted. "Well," she said, "he sure as fuck didn't get that from me."

They had dinner together, sitting around the table in the quiet. "... I'll have to start cooking," said Aratani at last, chewing. "I have some Thai recipes I want to show you all."

"So you'll be staying long?" said Yuugi curiously.

The adults exchanged a look. "For a while," said Aratani noncommittally, going back to what she'd been eating. "So what about you?"

"Huh?" Yuugi blinked in surprise.

"Tell me about yourself. You're tiny and you have issues with confrontation, that's all I know about you," said Aratani bluntly. "Likes, dislikes, interests..."

"I like games," said Yuugi, "and models, puzzles, toys."

"What's your favorite?"

She'd expected him not to be able to answer immediately, but he could. "The Millenium Puzzle," said Yuugi, smiling.

Aratani looked over at Sugoroku with a raised eyebrow. "You let him play with your Ancient Egyptian artifact? The gold puzzle you took from that teenage unknown Pharaoh's tomb, way back in the day when archaeologists were still allowed to keep things they found? You let him play with that?"

"He's been trying to solve it since he was seven years old," said Sugoroku, amused. "Found it in the back of the shop one day and hasn't put it down since."

"Damn, that's impressive," said Aratani honestly.

"Why?" Yuugi drooped. "It's been years and I haven't finished it."

"But you haven't given up on something important to you. That shows tenacity." Yuugi looked up. "I don't like to preach, but never let anyone shame you for sticking to something, kid. Do you know how amazing it would be if you solved that goddamn thing? Sugoroku sent it to great minds all over the world, with only the caveat that they weren't allowed to use digital computing to figure out the puzzle. None of them could solve it. If you solved it, that would be a very great thing.

"Great things take time. The hard things are always the most important." Aratani went back to her meal. Yuugi was beaming at her, and Sugoroku was looking at her with gentle fondness.

So that was where he'd gotten it from. They both forgave and forgot too easily.

"What about other things you like? Favorite books, music, movies?" she continued.

"Uh, I... I honestly spend most of my time on gaming," said Yuugi uneasily. His self confidence, so quickly bolstered by an easy compliment, so eager to please, had failed him once again.

"Hm." Her suspicions confirmed, Aratani continued with her meal. She asked no more questions. Everyone else sat there, wishing they knew what she was thinking.

Everyone except Kaneko. Used to that kind of thing from her mother, she just rolled her eyes.

Aratani watched out the window as Yuugi walked home from school with his backpack the following day. A bunch of bullies were following him home, calling him names and shoving him, jeering. His shoulders hunched and his eyes squeezed shut, he walked faster, as if hoping they would all just go away.

Sugoroku went to the window beside her. "How are his grades?" she asked without looking.

"Not wonderful," said Sugoroku with the kind of blunt honesty she had always been able to match. "You see what I mean?" he said quietly.

"Yes. I have this under control," said Aratani, expressionless. "Now go away. I need him to answer some questions while you're not around to answer them for him."

Sugoroku quickly retreated into the back of the shop.

Aratani sat off to the side of the shop, doing a crossword puzzle. She looked up idly as Yuugi came in. "Walk home with your friends?" she asked.

"I, uh... I don't really have any friends," Yuugi said, caught off guard.

"Don't talk to people much?"

"Not really."

"Ah." Aratani continued with her crossword puzzle.

"I - I do have one friend," said Yuugi defensively. "Her name is Mazaki Anzu. I've known her since elementary school."

"But she wasn't there today?"

"Uh - she was hanging out with some other people," said Yuugi evasively.

More popular people, Aratani translated. "What do you guys do when you do hang out together?"

"Uh - whatever Anzu wants to do. Just as long as not too many people see us."

Aratani looked up. "That guy walking home with you was pretty hot."

Yuugi looked horrified. "What -? Which one -? Never mind, they're all hideous! And, ew, they're way too young for you!"

"What about Anzu? Is she hot?"

Yuugi blushed furiously. That was a yes. "What is with all these questions?!"

"Is it a crime to want to get to know my own grandson?"

Yuugi's jaw clenched and he looked away.

"You have something to say," said Aratani. "Say it."

"You - you can't just waltz in here and get to know me now after you've been gone all this time!" Yuugi forced out, still looking away.

"You resent me for leaving your grandfather."

"Yes!"

"Do you want to know why I did?"

Yuugi at last looked around - cautious, but curious. "I'd... be interested to know what you had to say," he said at last, frowning.

Aratani nodded. "... Sugoroku is a wonderful grandfather," she said, "an excellent gamer, and overall a good man. But he was not a good husband and father. He was never home when your mother was growing up, always off on some adventure and scheme or another. And I was always the second class citizen. I didn't even get a hand in naming you. I woke up one day and realized I'd spent a good twenty-five years catering to someone else.

"If your grandfather seems to miss me, it's only because you only realize how good you have it when it's gone."

Yuugi stood there, frozen in surprise. Perhaps, Aratani thought, he could be taught not to treat people like his grandfather had.

But for now, she stood. "The only thing I regretted was leaving you," she said, and she left Yuugi standing there in the shop's entrance with a lot to think about.

He would ask his grandfather, tentatively but emotionally, about it later. "She remains," said his grandfather, eyes sorrowful, "the biggest mistake of my life."

His grandmother left, his grandfather was the reason why, his father wasn't around, his mother was always angry. Yuugi should have learned it long ago - even the people he loved and admired most weren't perfect.

Later, Sugoroku sidled up next to her at the stove over dinner that night. "So?" he murmured. "What have you decided?"

Aratani reeled off her findings. "His appearance makes him look like a nerd, his grades are subaverage, he has the self confidence of a sheet of fungus, he's physically incapable of even verbally confronting someone, he's obsessed with gaming and has no idea about any of his other likes and interests, he's so antisocial I'm amazed he talks at all, he idealizes the only girl willing to spend any time with him, he's the perfect bully victim, he has no idea how to treat women or significant others properly, and he's bisexual and he doesn't realize it."

Sugoroku blinked. "Damn," he said at last. "It's only been twenty-four hours."

"That's why you called me in," said Aratani bluntly. "Don't worry. I'll handle it."

"There's one thing you've missed out on," said Sugoroku evenly. "Creep up to his bedroom right now. Don't let him know you're there. Watch him for about a minute."

Curious, Aratani did so.

Yuugi was alone, bent over his desk with his shoulders hunched by the light of a lamp. He was working on the Millenium Puzzle. But even as she watched, he sighed and stopped, drooping, staring ahead of himself with a dead, blank sort of expression. He sighed and put his head in a hand. He looked more tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

He'd been wearing makeup, she realized. So he didn't look so horribly tired and depressed. He just sat there like that in the silence for a while.

She thought about his life: no friends, a crush who didn't really enjoy being seen with him, bullies he was too frightened to confront, a crummy flat above a shop as a home, and two close family members who had abandoned him.

Aratani's anger made her rally. Muto Yuugi needed her help. Badly. Her grandson needed her, and she was going to deliver if it killed her. She had a list, and was checking it twice. She was going to go in chronological order, and deal with each thing as it came up.

It was time to get started.