Worthy of Protection

It was a particularly cold Friday night in the city of Heartland. The beginnings of snow were falling and frost was settling in for a cozy rest. But despite the plummeting temperatures, it was silent and peaceful, and all the residents were fast asleep and at ease.

That is, all except one very curious other-worldly spirit.

In a small but humble home in the heart of the city, Yuma Tsukumo was in a deep sleep in his hammock. His room, actually the house's attic, was positioned perfectly for moonlight to stream through his window and land softly on his face. His left arm was hanging off the side of the hammock and his legs were spread out among the ropes. He snored quietly and turned his body to face the window, his intricate black and red hair-do glistening in the starlight.

Hovering next to his hammock was Astral, the spirit that dwelled inside of Yuma's prized key. Glowing topaz yellow, Astral's eyes watched Yuma thoughtfully as he slept. It was a wonder to Astral how his illuminated blue body hadn't woken up the boy, especially when he was so close, but he hypothesized that Yuma could sleep through just about anything.

Astral floated next to the hammock, ankles locked together, knees bent in mid air, and arms crossed. He continued to watch Yuma sleep, even though the boy had forbid it, dubbing it "creepy." But Astral couldn't help himself some nights—Yuma was fascinating to watch and so much could be learned from his silent observations.

He watched as Yuma mumbled something in his slumber; it was a long string of garbled words, but Astral managed to catch one of them: Dad. Astral's heart (did he have a heart?) went out for the boy, knowing how much he missed his parents and how hard his daily life actually was: dealing with a world that didn't believe in his beliefs of Kattobingu or high-fiving the sky.

A stirring of rare emotion appeared in the lower part of Astral's stomach. Suddenly, he had the urge to just hold the boy in his translucent arms and hide him from the world he faced every day. This feeling arose sometimes: during duels when Yuma was dangerously struggling or when he was ripped apart on the inside and leaked droplets—tears, had Yuma called them? Astral didn't know what to call the emotion but decided it wasn't harmful—he knew he merely had gotten very attached to the over-confident, stubborn, dense, child-like, and righteous figure that was Yuma Tsukumo. And it was just hard to watch him go through times of pain and sorrow—especially when there existed tranquil times like tonight, when Yuma was safe in his hammock and away from the absurdity Astral had brought with him when he'd met Yuma, like the Numbers, the Numbers Hunters, and the mysteries of his past.

Astral recalled a time when he'd heard of a name for this emotion before—a morning before school, when Yuma was gobbling down a last minute breakfast. His grandmother and sister had been seated at the table, discussing something that had occurred earlier that week.

"Yuma!" Akari had scolded. "This letter from your principal says you got into another fight at school."

Yuma sighed in between spoonfuls of cereal. "It's not as big of a deal as you think."

"NOT A BIG DEAL?" Akari cried. "This is the fourth letter this school year, Yuma! And look at those bruises! Why do you keep doing this?"

Yuma winced and peeked a glance down at his legs, which were both covered in black and blue marks from his most recent fight. "I can take a little bruising. It makes me stronger and more appreciative of when I don't have bruises!"

"Yuma," growled Akari.

"Dear," Grandmother Tsukumo interjected. "It's the principle of the thing. Are you dealing with bullies? Do students at school harass you?"

Yuma frowned at the ceiling. He couldn't be smart to his grandmother. "Not really, no. But bullies pick on other kids too—younger ones who don't know how to defend themselves and others. I can't . . . I can't just sit around and let it happen, Grandma. I step in and try to help. It just lands me in sticky situations . . . sometimes."

A tender look crossed Grandmother Tsukumo's face. She shared a meaningful look with Akari—Yuma hated when they did that. "My boy," she said softly. "It's wonderful that you're sticking up for others—it really is. But just think about how others perceive it—by getting involved like that, you're automatically in deep trouble with the school. And Akari and I don't like getting these letters and seeing you get hurt. You get enough bruises from dueling—you don't need more."

Yuma scratched his cheek. "I hadn't thought about it that way. I'm sorry. I didn't know you guys felt like that."

"You're the youngest in our little family and still so young in general," his grandmother said. "Your sister and I are just very protective of you. If anything serious ever happened to you, I don't know what I'd do."

"I gotcha, guys." Yuma stood from his chair, grabbed his backpack, and grinned at the two. "It won't happen anymore, I promise. Scout's honor!"

Then Yuma gasped at the clock and sprinted out the door. "Ahh, I'm gonna be so LATE!"

Astral blinked out of the memory and frowned.

Protective. Was that the feeling curling in his stomach? Was he just very protective of Yuma?

As he spoke it in his mind, he knew it was true. He hated seeing the boy down or in pain and he just wanted him to be happy and away from danger.

Yes. He was protective of the boy. It all made sense. Sure, Yuma was dumb, short-tempered, and annoying sometimes, but there was a certain fire inside his heart that Astral loved to see, even in times when the fire got Yuma into trouble. He was heroic and strong-willed and made Astral feel like he could do anything sometimes. Yuma had also done so much for him—he had dedicated his time to helping him gain all ninety-nine of the Numbers and Astral knew the boy would run miles on end to get him and the key back whenever it was taken or gone. They hadn't liked each other at first, but now Astral had kind of come to adore the boy.

So when Astral glanced back at Yuma and saw the sparks crackling around the key, the alarm that flitted through him was all the stronger.

The sparks were black in color and were multiplying by the second. Yuma's eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clenched and he tossed his head away from the window. His hands grabbed the ropes in his hammock and interlocked into fists.

"Yuma!" Astral hissed, floating to him.

Suddenly, a black figure hovered over Yuma, an apparent shadow with one glowing yellow eye. Sharp white teeth flashed in the darkness and the shadow was absorbed into Yuma's key. Yuma gave an unconscious gasp before going limp.

"Something's gone inside the key," Astral whispered. "And whatever it is, it's taken Yuma with it!"

Without another thought, Astral vanished into the key. When he opened his eyes, he was on the deck of the "spaceship." And standing a few feet away from him was Number 96: Black Mist.

"You!" Astral gasped.

Black Mist cackled. "Sooo wonderful to see you again, Astral, old boy."

"Why are you here? Where's Yuma?" Astral demanded.

"Oh, the boy?" Black Mist grinned. "You don't mean him, do you?"

The Number's tentacles appeared from behind his back, a flurry of twitching, liquid filled appendages. One of them floated beside Black Mist and held Yuma's ankle and held him upside down.

Yuma was awake now, but he looked too stunned to try and break away. Then a few moments later, realization dawned in his eyes and he glowered up at Black Mist. "It's you!" he accused.

"Yes, yes, we've very much established that it's me," Black Mist said dully. "Can we move on now?"

"Lemme go!" Yuma reached with all his might up to grasp the tentacle holding his ankle. "I'm warning you, you stupid Number! Haven't you figured out at this point that you can't defeat us? Let me go!"

Astral noticed the "us" Yuma had mentioned and felt a small amount of pride. Yuma fully acknowledged now that they were a team. He also felt the admiration he had for the boy seep into his being, for despite just being woken up, Yuma was ready for a fight and did not fear the enemy Number.

"I'd listen to him," Astral commented, crossing his arms again. "Yuma may be small and stubborn, but he packs a powerful punch."

Astral noticed Yuma's lips curl up with a smirk at the remark, but then he shot Astral an annoyed look. Astral knew it was because of the "small" part.

"Ah, but here is where you're both wrong," Black Mist said with a smile that was laced with dark intentions. With no obvious effort, the tentacle holding Yuma's ankle rose higher into the air and flipped him up, so that he was right-side up. Then Black Mist had more tentacles ensnare Yuma: one on each elbow, one on his free leg, one draped across his chest like the banner a contestant in a beauty pageant would wear, and—to Astral's horror—one around Yuma's tiny throat. Yuma's eyes bugged and his hands went to keep the tentacle around his throat as far off as possible.

"You see, I figured something out," Black Mist said smoothly to the shocked Astral. "You two do work well together—too well, for my tastes. So I decided to try a different approach: instead of going after you, Astral, why don't I just go after the human, and therefore very easily-killed, Yuma? Your bond is much too sugary sweet for my taste buds, so I've decided to sever it. And what better way to sever a bond than to eliminate one half of it?"

Astral watched with wide eyes as the tentacle around Yuma's throat tightened significantly. It was obvious that Yuma was panicking—he was thrashing about and gasping quickly, as if air was unattainable. He was training to swallow, and when he did once, the whimper that left his lips was drenched in agony.

The feeling blazed brightly in Astral's stomach and was spreading to his mind like wildfire.

"Black Mist," he snarled, sounding as furious as he felt. "I demand you leave Yuma out of this. He's done nothing to you. He's . . . he's just a boy."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my fine, irritating friend," Black Mist said, the glee in his voice noticeable. "This boy has very much wronged me in the past—he's worked with you to destroy me, and he's turned against me and betrayed me. And just when I thought we were becoming friends!" He draped an arm across his forehead in feign despair. But then he returned to normal and smirked at Astral. "Besides, I looove seeing the battle being fought in your eyes right now. You're hating this with every fiber of your pathetic being . . . and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Black Mist gushed.

Astral glanced helplessly up at Yuma. The boy's body was turning purple from the tentacles squeezing him. His red eyes, normally alight with the hope for the future and the dare for anything to challenge him, were glazing over. Yuma's hands were no longer in fists on the tentacle on his throat and hung lifelessly by his side, making Yuma resemble a rag doll.

With rage and panic burning in him like embers, Astral rocketed forward and grabbed Number 96 by the shoulders. "Let him go," he growled dangerously. "Let him go or I swear . . . you'll wish you were never thought up as a living being."

"Oooooooh, scary," Black Mist said with a toothy grin. "I would, I promise, but I feel as if it might be too late at this point, old boy."

No, Astral thought in terror. No, I can't let this happen! Not to Yuma! He doesn't deserve to die like this!

"What do you want? Just tell me, what do you want?" Astral knew he was begging, but it could be moments before the candle of Kattobingu was snuffed out.

"What do I want?" Black Mist shoved Astral's hands off his body. "Why, I'm getting it right now, or haven't you noticed?"

And with one final squeeze, Black Mist dropped Yuma.

Astral was under him in a milli-second, catching the boy in his thin arms. Had Yuma always been this light? Astral got on his knees and held Yuma in his arms, feeling anguish at the sight before him. Yuma's body was horribly bruised, some parts so purple it looked like Yuma had been slapped with violet paint. There was a ring around his neck made from the tentacle that had squeezed the breath out of Astral's beloved friend, and his eyes were closed.

Astral had no idea what to do. His mind raced painfully, thinking back to the programs he'd viewed on the magic box in Yuma's room. What had the humans done when they were checking on the health of other humans? The image of a women laying her ear against a man's chest and exclaiming that she'd heard his heart popped into his head and he copied the action.

He could hear something—he didn't know what it was though. A thumping. Faint, but detectable. Was that Yuma's heart? Was he alive?

"Even if you feel his heart, I doubt it'll be there for much longer," Black Mist said cruelly. "I put a lot of what I had into strangling that boy."

Strangling. The word terrified Astral. Was it useless? Was Yuma really gone? Or would he be soon?

"I won't forgive you," Astral muttered under his breath, too worn out to be enraged. "If he dies, I will hunt you down and make you pay."

Black Mist grinned. "I'll be looking forward to it. I've always loved hide-and-seek."

Astral looked down at Yuma, a lump materializing in his own throat. Was it just minutes ago when he'd been seeing this face peaceful and slumbering, safe and alive? Now it just looked in pain and cold. This was what was left of his partner, his friend.

The first person he'd been protective of.

Beams of light shimmered in Astral's palms. They were warm and endearing and very very powerful. Astral carefully placed Yuma's body on the ground and stood to face the evil Number.

"You're wrong," Astral said, his voice reverberating across the spaceship. "I learned of a much better game we could play. Yuma taught it to me." He lifted his palm to face Black Mist. "It's called tag."

The beams of blue and white light shot from Astral's hands and zeroed in on Black Mist. They swirled around him and formed a tornado, spinning at a great and powerful speed. Astral raised his arms to the air, and the tornado thinned and then finally blinked out of existence, taking Black Mist with it.

The Number's scream of, "Nooooooo!" echoed in the world of the key before it went away.

Astral dropped to his knees, not believing what he'd just done. Where had that kind of power come from?

No. He knew where it'd come from. He turned his body to look down at Yuma again.

The power of concern and love for a friend. This was one of the most important observations he'd made while with Yuma and it was the most apparent. Yuma had a specific bond with many different people, and his bond with his parents kept him going strong and confident.

Astral flexed his fingers. The power of a bond was extraordinary.

"A-Astral . . . ?"

The spirit of the Emperor's Key's eyes flashed down and he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Yuma was awake. He looked exhausted and in more pain than Astral had ever seen, but alive.

"Yuma . . ." he mumbled in disbelief, eyes huge. Then a huge smile rainbowed across his face. "YUMA!" He couldn't help himself but to pull the boy into a hug. "I was so worried," he admitted excitedly into Yuma's shoulder. "I thought . . . I thought Black Mist had . . ."

"Er, Astral? Could you let go, please? My whole body hurts."

"Oh—my apologies," Astral said, and then felt guilt when the quick motion of pulling away made Yuma hiss in pain again. "My apologies, again."

Yuma gave Astral one of his famous Yuma grins—one eye winking, teeth shown, and a halo of joy in the eye that was open. "Ah, it's cool. I can tell you couldn't help yourself. Most people can't . . . I mean, have you seen my face? I'm like a thirteen year old Adonis."

"Who is 'Adonis'?" Astral asked blankly. "A monster card I've never seen?"

Yuma shook his head and smiled. "Nah, forget it." Then he yawned.

"You're tired," Astral noted.

"Ohh yeah," Yuma replied sleepily. "I got a very rude awakening from that stupid Black Mist." Yuma glanced around in a hurry, suddenly remembering why they were in the key. "Wait, where is—?"

"Taken care of," Astral interrupted. "I don't think we'll have to worry about him anymore. Now the only use he has to us is the memory he supplies."

"Oh . . . alright. Good." Yuma yawned again, this time bigger. "Do you think we can go back? I'm beat."

"What are you going to tell your family about the bruises?" Astral asked worriedly.

"The bruises?" Yuma then noticed the marks on his body and flinched—something Astral rarely saw Yuma do. "Oh," he said weakly. "I'll, um . . . I'll say I fell out of bed. More than once." He sighed. "They probably won't believe me. But I'll handle it, don't worry."

Astral nodded. Yuma could be an imbecile sometimes, but he could also be very quick on his feet.

"It cool if we go now?" Yuma asked, yawning for a third time.

"Absolutely." Taking Yuma's hand, Astral summoned enough power to return them to Yuma's room. Yuma opened his eyes and found himself in his hammock, Astral floating by his side.

"Phew," Yuma breathed, settling back under his blanket. "Feels good to be back." He glanced up at Astral. "Thank you for whatever happened back there. I know you saved me . . . and I'm grateful."

Astral smiled and nodded. "Like you said . . . we're comrades."

Yuma nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Comrades." He snuggled into his pillow. "'Night, Astral."

"Goodnight, Yuma," Astral said happily.

A few moments ticked past. Yuma peeped open one eye and scowled when he saw Astral watching him wistfully. "Astral! I told you not to watch me sleep!"

Astral hesitated, then smiled and closed his eyes. He descended down to feign leaning against the wall on the floor. "Is this better?"

"Ummm . . . yeah," Yuma said, surprised. "Thanks."

Astral peeked up at the boy, who had fixed his position due to the bruises and was back to snuggling away. He was battered and bruised, possibly even traumatized out of his imagination. (Which Astral doubted—Yuma was a darn tough kid.) But he was back to where he belonged, and he was safe and sound. Astral felt the normal fire in his stomach bubble down to calm joy.

"No problem," Astral whispered with a warm smile, and then he shut his eyes to relax with his dear friend.