--

one.

--

"So…you're back."

"Yes."

"And…you're staying."

"If you will let me."

"And…you're not leaving any time soon."

Yami's eyes tore away from the meal made by one Mister Sugoroku Mutou. Momentarily, they flickered, the violet allure glistening under the lustrous red orbs; remnants of who he was in his past life. At the sudden word he shivered, the gold string laced around his wrist daintily glowing with pride. A smile strewed across his lips and he cast a weary glance. "I really want to stay, if you will let me, aibou."

His other half studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing at Yami's form. It was another chance to sneak a peek at what his light had come to be; how much he had grown in only eleven months. Hard to believe, he wryly thought, that Yugi once did not come past his waist. His partner had grown; something he clearly overlooked while fending off from evil.

They were the same height. At least…close to the same height. Yugi's legs had grown long and slim from their days together and the small sixteen-year-old was now as tall as he—five-foot, six.

"I…I dunno." Yugi shrugged, burying his face into the cereal. "It's up to Grandpa."

"Alright, aibou." Yami smiled, reaching across the table and slipping a hand to Yugi's bare shoulder. His bracelet delicately chimed and he looked at it, burning holes into to his wrist bone as he expected something to happen. Nothing.

"You can let go now."

"Oh. Uh, right." He pulled away, dark eyes curiously devouring the image of Yugi as his other self meticulously began his daily routine. Dabble with the spoon. Eat two bundles of Cocoa Puffs. Swallow—slowly. Eyes wander to the bowl, prying apart all that concocts the milk and wheat. Lips part, hesitant to mutter the thoughts at his tongue before closing again, fervent blush across his delicate face. That was the "routine" made by Yugi Mutou.

"Is there something on my face?"

"What?" Yami blinked away the observations that'd come to be over years of knowing his light's habits because, quite honestly…Yugi had done none of it. There was no worry, no overbearing threat that was often shrugged away as a passive notion. There was no blush…not even a little pink.

"You keep staring at me." Yugi steadily eyed him; one brow arched suspiciously as he uncomfortably shifted in the seat and failed to be discreet as he lightly scooted away from his other self.

A little hurt, Yami smiled anyway, his fingers fiddling with the gold bracelet and its several blank charms. "I'm sorry. I'm just happy that I can see you after all this time."

Yugi blinked, slowly slipping his metal spoon between his lips before looking away and mixing it through his milk. "Please. It really hasn't been that long."

"Ten months and fifteen days since the ceremonial duel, aibou. I'm pretty sure that counts as more than just a little time." An amused smirk laced across Yami's lips and he pulled a bang out of his face. It had been the only shard of time he was allowed to count. Time did not pass in the afterlife; just the occasional new land that would enter in certain planes whether they be the pits of hell or heaven.

"Are those the only clothes you brought with you?"

"They are the same clothes I wore right before I left." Yami blinked, bemusement replacing his accomplishment of knowing how long he'd been away. Yugi wasn't impressed. Those magenta eyes hadn't flickered in nostalgia nor did they react to anything spoken from Yami's lips.

"Ah." Yugi looked up for the first time since they met at the breakfast table.

The once spirit resisted the urge to sigh, waiting for the slow reply from his other self as he picked at the piece of bread he'd intended to be toast. It was hard to believe that only thirty minutes ago, his normal, spastic other self had panicked like he'd seen a ghost (but really, Yami wasn't far from being one) instead of the oaf that sat in front of him.

"Well, until Grandpa gives the okay for you to stay here, guess you're stuck with it." Yugi limply shrugged, pulling away from his seat and slipping on his backpack. "But really, I don't see the use of you having a Domino High uniform."

"Are you leaving already?"

"Yeah. I'm picking up Anzu from her house before we leave." The hikari whirled around, putting his dirty bowl in the sink and turning on the garbage disposal before slipping on a pair of two, identical steel-toed boots. "Hang around here."

"And I will see you at four?"

"What? No." Yugi shrugged on the blue blazer that was signature to Domino High. "It's Thursday. Jou and I always go to Burger World and then for comics afterward." He grinned mischievously, violet eyes teeming with childish insight. "It's tradition."

"Ah." Yami smiled and mimicked Yugi's actions, bringing the half-full bowl to the sink and pouring it down the sink. "Then perhaps—"

"Don't do that!" Yugi shoved his other self aside, yanking the bowl from his grasp before ducking and looking to the drain. A groan left his lips and he rolled his eyes. "You can't just dump small silverware in there! The garbage disposer almost annihilated the spoon!"

The once pharaoh was left speechless. Nerves bundled up at the pit of his stomach at what just happened, shredding away all…just like that spoon. "I'm sorry," the red-eyed teen softly muttered. "It was an accident."

"Yeah, no…it's fine. Sorry for yelling." Yugi ran a hand through his hair and flipped the switch. He sighed with aggravation, eyes tightly shutting. "Tell Grandpa not to use the sink and that I'll unclog it when I get back from school."

"You've certainly grown up." Yami arched a wary eyebrow, scooting closer to the sink and pulling up his sleeves. He switched the nozzle to 'on,' dispensing soap to cold water, and held a dirty bowl between his fingers.

Yugi slapped the same nozzle off and yanked the bowl from Yami's grasp. "Yeah, well," muttered the shorter as he rested the dish gently in their beaten up dishwasher. "It's been eleven months since I've seen you. I was bound to kick off the training wheels and ride by myself."

"Ten months and fifteen days," Yami corrected. He reached over to pick up the last dirty dish in an effort to help out the hikari, but never had the chance. Yugi ignorantly grabbed it himself—or, supposedly, considering how fast he reached for it—and set it in a rack all of its own.

"Um, yeah." Bright violent eyes glinted with a quick, out-of-place pink and the short teen shrugged. "Promise me you won't touch anything."

"I…" Yami attempted to blink away the discomfort and slowly nodded. "Alright. I'll try to behave."

"Good," breathed what seemed like an impatient light. Yugi ran a hand through his hair, hastily yanking his backpack from the table before Yami had the chance to return to his seat. He shrugged and curled his toes. "Seriously, I have to get going."

Defeated, Yami urged himself to smile and fiddled with the identical collar set around his neck. "Then, I guess I'll see you tonight, aibo—"

"Bye Atemu."

Not even the slam of the door seemed louder than that name slapping him across the face. Yami stared at the door leading to the stairs that would take someone down to the front and in the Game Shop. When the second slam echoed up to the stairs, he sighed and collapsed on the couch. This wasn't…exactly how he imagined things to go.

Hands clasped together and at his mouth, Yami closed his eyes, the exact expression of his hikari coming to mind. It was strange being human again. The last time he was able to see or feel any his emotions…touch something was the Ceremonial Duel; and as he said, that was ten months and fifteen days ago. But back then there was no time to relish his new lungs or reach out and ravish the touch of Yugi's delicate-looking skin.

Yes, delicate-looking. As a spirit once before, they had some type of connection through touch, but it was never enough; not like a human. It was what defined him as an irate ghost—an outcast to others of the afterlife, if his only kindred spirit (literally and figuratively) was a pain in the ass thief that robbed his father's tomb.

But along with the emotion of despair also came the feeling, and it damn well felt mighty—what was the word Jonouchi always used? Ah. Shitty. Yami gently took hold of the remote control, tossing it back and forth between his fingers for a moment and eyed it like a cat playing with a tassel. His heart spliced in two by the knife known as his name.

The once pharaoh recalled earlier, how those beautiful, fuchsia-magenta orbs glistened and studied through tired eyes his other half, taking a moment to realize what was sitting on his couch before letting out a harsh screech, scrambling for his bedroom door and slammed it with a disgusting echo.

With a grimace, Yami's harshly beating chest back then--anxious and nervous ever since he woke up on a park bench and found by Mister Mutou—and quickly sank by the fear in Yugi's eyes. Despite their rusty and close-to-extinct mind link, it didn't take much digging into his partner's expression to find that those eyes weren't enthused by his sudden expression. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And as Yami stared at his other half's door for ten achingly slow minutes, he realized that Yugi was probably terrified beyond all belief to gather up the nerve to open the door. He took that time and reminded himself what Mister Mutou suggested of him—get a bagel. Eat. Make himself feel at home and certainly, do not feel so humble in a house he'd practically lived in for four years—certainly more than seventeen, if the time he spent as scrambled pieces of a puzzle sitting behind a glass case in Kame Game Shop counted.

With a resilient sigh, Yami pressed a finger to the power button and pulled away from his stupor. First impressions were never the easiest, obviously, and he shouldn't have felt so disconsolate about it. Eying the dirty dishes and then analyzing the wildfire he made out of the embers of washing dishes, Yami collected all of the thoughts and memories—technically, Yugi's memories—about cleaning after breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

For a brief moment as his hand grazed against the glass plate, the brooding teenager remembered his days as pharaoh—something so different for him, still so foreign despite gathering all of those memories—that he had slaves and servants clean for him. Certainly, Yami though as he gathered all of the silverware, a sponge, and soap before scurrying to the bathroom sink, that was a different part of his life.

A cold shiver ran up his spine, coinciding with the chilly water once the nozzle was turned and he eyed the golden bracelet with seven blank trinkets. Yami grimaced, scraping away left over cream cheese from his bagel and dumped milk and cereal in the trash can. Really, he shouldn't have been so disappointed. He shouldn't have!

"So the Nameless Pharaoh shows himself." Yami shuddered again; that memory running loud and clear in his mind. "And with an intent gleaming in those eyes, no doubt."

Yami softly smiled, pausing from cleaning the bowl long enough to remember how he stared the great Ra straight in the eye and was nearly driven into insanity for not being able to see his aibou. "Yes," he had said. "I suppose you are aware that because my spirit was trapped, I was never able to come to the afterlife and therefore not partake in the cycle of life."

"We applaud you," grumbled an intimidating Set. That God in particular had a bitter tongue and piercing eyes. "Three thousand years of solitude and you persevered. Certainly a persistent mortal."

"Do not mock him." The Great Mother, Goddess Isis, slapped the silly god over the head and cradled her son delicately in her arms. A smile graced the lips of this beautiful she-god, and she offered a gargantuan hand to small, mice-like Yami's cheek. "What is it that you wish for, little Horus?"

His throat had run dry. Despite all of the evils he'd driven away—Pegasus, Marik…Dartz, and Thief King Bakura—he was still but a pawn in the hands of the Gods, and did not expect for them to warm up to him so quickly. "I…wish to return to earth."

The three gods looked at him unexpectedly, sharing glances with all of the other surprised deities as once again, Goddess Isis, also known as the Goddess of Fertility, spoke. "Surely you understand that when the time comes, young Horus Atemu—" He distinctly remembered cringing at the name "—you will be reborn, just as the others."

"No," he broadly replied. "I wish to return to the living world now—but not as an infant. If you shall allow me, I would like to return to the world just as I left it—at the age of seventeen, when I died, and live my life."

And there it had been. All the gods stared at him, stunned and…suddenly outraged. Grouched and annoyed, Ra's eyes pierced through him and if he had not been a ghost—purely intangible and all—he would have felt the searing burns as the god of the sun cast rays of fury against his form. "You wish to what, Atemu?"

Yami recalled shuddering; the chills of a hotheaded god's tone enough to freeze all of the Sahara. He stood his ground, eyes never leaving the lead God and curling his fists. "Am I not one of the most memorable pharaohs of all time? I beg of you—please allow me to return."

Osiris had growled. He sneered, far more angered than any of the other gods. "You have a lot of nerve, mortal, if you truly think that your worth is greater than a peasant. Despite what you hear, we do not play favorites."

"And that brings us to another point," Goddess Isis suddenly uttered. What were the other words Jonouchi often used? Yes…he was pissed off to no end. The once warm and thoughtful Queen of the Gods icily frowned; disapproving of this request and flippant in an instant. "Why return and abuse the young boy known as Yugi Mutou yet again, Atemu? Had you not enough the first time?"

"What on earth are you…suggesting?" Yami had been shocked. Disheartened. Angered. Again, "shitty" and "pissed off." "Are you saying that the relationship I had with aibou was—"

"Parisitic? Heartless? Ruthless?" Ra eyed him. "Yes, Atemu. After what we have been shown with Bakura and certainly the negative effects on the mortal known as Malik Ishtar, whatever effects the Ancient World has had on Modern Day mustn't be tolerated. You did your job, saving the world from evil and now you must rest in peace before being summoned for reincarnation."

"No!" Yami harshly hissed. His pungent refusal echoed through the Court of the Gods, each eying with their own dismay and disapproval as a scowl concocted across the young pharaoh's lips. "What aibou and I had together…certainly, it was nothing that lacked care and compassion! If you are blind enough to believe that I used him without feeling any sort of sympathy, then you are wrong! I spent those years with him being his friend! Protecting him!"

After that, the once Pharaoh had bitten his words and cringed, expecting each and every one of them to smite and banish him forever. But he stood his ground. He had to. After the strong message he felt from his other half, there was little to nothing stopping him from running up to Aibou and embracing him—had it not been the fact he could not be seen, heard, or touched. He needed the body.

"And you think this relationship is real?"

"What…I…of course I do." He had strong feelings for Yugi. Emotions always ran awry and dangled by a thin string, slowly threatening to plummet and Yami tried with all his might to keep that string from snapping in two. He would have traded every memory in the world he had of his former life for his other self, and regretted that he didn't.

"And you certainly did not just use his body?"

"If you mean I coerced him into lending me his body, then you are most certainly wrong."

"We are only looking out for this mortal."

And then Yami wanted to laugh. He was ready to throttle the gods, had it not been the fact he would direly pay for it in the long-run and shrinking his already weak chance of returning to the mortal realm. "Did you not just say the Gods did not play favorites?"

The way Set then caught his sharp tongue painfully reminded him of… "Do you question the Gods?"

"If your feelings are sincere, young Horus," Isis said, pressing Set against the arm and forcing his mouth shut, "Then we will give you this chance."

It was like floating on air. Well, all considered, Yami was quite sure as a ghost he could float in air, but decided to leave it be. Instead, his generally serious eyes melted for a moment, succumbing to the incredibility of that statement. "You will allow me to return as I am?"

"Not with as many affections as you may be used to, Horus Atemu." Ra wryly glared at him and shoved a large finger in his chest. "Can you name seven things about Yugi Mutou that you fell for?"

Surprised, Yami blinked. "His courage, his innocence, his determination—"

"No. When we allow you to return to earth, Horus Atemu," smiled Goddess Isis. She picked him up, like a fairy in the grasp of a human. In glorious shimmers, the goddess who also reigned over all that was magical laced a gleaming bracelet around the pharaoh's wrist. Seven blank trinkets dangled beautifully. "In order to prove that the relationship you had with one Yugi Mutou was indeed real and not fake, you must show us the qualities that enticed you about this mortal."

"One year?" screeched an irate Set. "A year is far too much time for this foolish mortal and those seven charms. Dear Isis, you are practically letting him flaunt around and defy the rules of life and death!"

Isis had grown annoyed. She scowled, eyes narrowing dauntingly at her brother by blood and law. You dare insult whom I choose to watch over?"

"Understand, darling," Osiris interrupted as Seth readied to retaliate, "That we must not always base our choices with bias. One year is well enough time to abuse this body—if we were to abide by his wishes—and do as he pleases."

"Not to mention this little one has already used the mortal Yugi Mutou's body once for courting that girl," snorted Seth.

Yami paused from washing dishes, cheeks ablaze as the memory of his supposed "courting" of Anzu drifted back. Every memory of Anzu, really, had a similar theme and motive buried deep behind it. Protect her. Save her. Do everything in his power to guard her, even if that meant sacrificing his life, because what and whomever Yugi loved, he was automatically obligated to dote over.

The sudden twinge in his heart distracted him long enough that Yami failed to notice water gushing and overflowing from the sink. After a string of curses, he turned the nozzle off, scurrying to the utility closet as a trail of fruit loops floated behind and rummaged for a mop. No mop found. Another string of curses later—certainly many that Jonouchi shouldn't have been teaching him—exploded from his lips and the struggling pharaoh chose the next best thing: a broom.

With a sigh of relief, Yami plunged the straw broom in a milky-watery substance and pushed it back into the bathroom with little success, but enough so that he was able to close the door.

"Enough!" he remembered hissing to the gods as they bickered. His fatal flaw known to be a combination of hubris and his infamous ill-temper, the once spirit was due for a lucky break and have that work in his favor. "In one month's time, I will prove the validity of my feelings for one Yugi Mutou. Just as there were seven millennium items, I will prove seven qualities we had in our relationship." He had looked God Set in the eye, brow upturned with barely-hidden smugness as he urged the god on. "Does that seem unfair enough for you?"

And here he was now, sweeping up water with a mop substitute. Their minds had only brushed, feathery light touches of the hikari's to his very own, but after much solitude and one mind; the skim of innocent thoughts groped his better judgment and tempted him further into the already-desired request. It had been nearly a week since the message had gone through; since Yugi expressed the desire to see him. Normally it was expected, for his friends of this life to miss him, but the fact that it had already been almost eleven months, Yugi's desires could be considered a hopeful anomaly.

One month, he reminded himself. Eyes prying apart the magical bracelet, he shuddered at this jewel, something that had total control over the next steps of his life—literally.

"Understand the consequences if you choose to move forward with this plan," Ra grumbled before seeing him off. "If you speak the truth about the relationship between you and Yugi Mutou, then you may stay. But if you cannot find these seven things, cheating the circle of life only handicaps you and never again will you be allowed to step foot into the living world."

Seven things? Not a problem. Yami scooped the last of fruit loops and cheerios before dumping them in the trash can. The last of milky-watery residue he poured down the bath tub drain, bracelet brilliantly shimmering at his wrist. Seven things in one month? Certainly no problem. He'd handled worse.

Seven things…in one month…when there seemed to be a horrible presumption of character on Yami's part. He bit his lip, quickly finishing the rest of the dishes and then frowned. None of the dirty water would go down the sink.

Yami shed of the blazer, leaving only the muscle shirt that had become his signature as his days of being Yami no Yugi. Now…he was only Yami. And as Yami, he had as much knowledge of unclogging the bathroom sink as a squirrel. Grimace across his lips, he set aside the dishes near his foot and dug through the bits and gunk of this morning's breakfast.

Surely—yank—he shouldn't have—pull—really worried—rattle, choke—about just this first impression—wrestle wrestle; sting, splice—but it was. In hollow victory, Yami yanked the horrible quarter-left of a soggy bagel out of the drain.

Oh, how raunchy.

He chunked it in the trashcan quickly, before staring at the sopping crumbs still attached to the indents between his fingers. Even raunchier. Yami observed the food blemishes then sniffed it. Raunchiest. He clutched his stomach, resisting his gag reflex and wiped the moldy bread (and he used that term quite loosely) against his pant leg before gathering all the clean dishes, dish rag, and soap to get to the kitchen.

Passing the silent living room, he sighed in relief as he put away the dishes on the rack provided and listened to the humming silence.

Wait.

He'd turned the TV on before cleaning dishes. Hadn't he? Yami turned around, fingers wrapped tightly around one of the dishes and eyed the television set. It was turned off. Tensing, Yami quickly put away the rest of the dishes and crept quietly to the couch.

He hadn't heard Mister Mutou enter. Nor Mrs. Mutou. No…it couldn't have been possible. But he had been so involved with unclogging the sink and what he was going to do about Yugi that he hadn't noticed.

But Mrs. Mutou certainly had no idea of his staying here. She worked late nights and early mornings, didn't she? He shuddered; remembering vaguely of his aibou's experience being whacked over the head by a spatula and feared what the woman would do to him; someone who looked like a complete stranger. Yami eyed his prey (or in this case, the couch) and continued his prowl. Lurking close and never letting up, he lingered, porcelain dish in hand need he slap the burglar who turned the television off into the next millennia and pou—

Meow.

"By the Gods!" Yami hissed, suddenly tackled and overtaken by the beast that dared…dared…lick him in the face? Maroon eyes flickered with confusion, only to find that just as alluring red eyes were staring right back at him. Then, he gaped.

A cat.

Since when did the Mutous have a cat? Then, he mentally slapped himself, scooping the small kitten in his hands and brushing a finger behind his ear.

"Why hello there, little one," he muttered. It purred in his arms, quickly readjusting and burying comfortably in Yami's grasp. It had been ten months and fifteen days, he reminded himself. It wasn't likely for everything to stay the same. Yugi was already seventeen—eighteen next year, and then he would be off to whatever college of his decision.

Yami cradled the cat carefully, heart suddenly slowing and pacing itself in the new obstacle of sadness and he set the plate carefully on the table. The teenaged noble sat on the couch and stroked the young kitten gently. It couldn't have been more than a year old; so be it more than a few months. Fragile and tiny, Yami stripped of his choker and allowed the little crimson-eyed feline to chew on it before delving back into his thoughts.

He shouldn't have been so critical. Nor should he expect for everything to be the same. Yami mentally slapped himself and dipped his head behind him. So what should he have done? Now that he ran his earlier statement through his head loud and clearly, pointing out to Yugi the number of days they'd been apart seemed quite geeky.

And one Yami did not like the word geeky. With a scowl and heavy groan, dark red eyes fell to the golden bracelet for the umpteenth time that day and he realized the decision needing to be made. Sacrifice his dignity; his name as nobility as the once Pharaoh Atemu, and become a true mortal.

Yes…yes, that made sense. That had been why he changed his name. He had to become…become Japanese! Yami blinked away the bubbles of his epiphany and stroked the little kitten in brilliant success.

Only…there was no little kitten. Yami stood up, eyes wandering the area in efforts to find the small feline, but found there was no avail. He frowned. There had never been a case of an animal infiltrating the house; so why would a stray wander in here of all places?

"Little one," he called in more concern than needed. Yami searched high and low, steadily walking down the hallway before pausing in front of aibou's room. He abruptly halted, hesitantly eying the door before placing a hand at its knob. Ten months and fifteen days, he reminded himself. Surely it would be excusable to…invade Yugi's privacy if he were looking for a cat.

Clean floors, neat walls, neat bed, and not a game out of place. Yami's heart sank in a matter of seconds as he realized how clearly he was able to see the floor for the first time in twelve years, and he shut the door.

Though it may have sounded silly, he silently hoped that Yugi hadn't changed as much as Yami feared. With the room to be the first to go, it felt as if another memory—something he was always so sure of about his other half—had escaped him. Biting his lip, Yami forced his thoughts back on finding the cat. He turned his head at the first sign of mewls.

Strangled mewls.

Yami fastened his pace and rushed toward the sound and where he hoped it might lead him. He forced open the bathroom door, struggling pass all the water and cereal he was quite sure he'd mopped up before that he almost did not catch sight of the feline because of the state of the bathroom.

Hazardous. Disgusting. Raunchy. Water disastrously poured from the sink, creating a large puddle—pond, in a better sense—at the core of the floor while little bagels floated off like yachts for ants and mice. Toilet paper dripped across the floor, shower turned on and pouring like rain while in the center was a little bi-colored Siamese kitten rolling around, sunbathing in a windowless room.

He would have laughed. Really, if it hadn't been the fact that it almost seemed like a twister had torn through the room, Yami would have enjoyed the sight of a little cat rolling around in the water. …except the cat seemed like he was choking.

What was the "f" word that Jonouchi constantly used; because that certainly fit the mood right now.

Yami rushed by the young kitten's side, large feline eyes widening to saucers and choked hisses escaping its throat. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?! Out of all his experience in gaming, there was never actually a game where he had to save a person's life like this!

Then, faintly, Yami remembered the CPR classes Anzu had forced Yugi to take with her in case one day they would need to save a life. Heimlich maneuver. The once pharaoh took the cat—despite its wails and scratching—and pressed it against his stomach. Thumb under what he assumed was its stomach, he pushed and jutted upwards. The kitten heaved and gagged; maybe even sob a little from the force Yami exerted, but he was quite sure the feline would thank him in the long run later.

Like a large rock chunked into a pond or a pitcher throwing a baseball, the quarter of a bagel exiting the kitten's tiny mouth and pinballing back and forth until rolling in the corner like a hacked up hair ball.

Yami let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, quickly clutching the kitten to his side. Its breathing was back to normal and it hacked a little more before gagging whatever else it ate onto Yami's forearm and leaving. Already too stunned that he saved a life without the help of shadow magic, he didn't care when the kitten pushed out of his arms and frolicked elsewhere.

"Ahem."

And all of it was over. Yami flinched, brushing away whatever the kitten had vomited on his arm before catching two different pairs of eyes. Mister Sugoroku Mutou and his beloved daughter who, quite violently, was holding a spatula in her hands.

"Hello," Yami said quietly, though dreadfully.

"Hello." Mister Mutou arched an eyebrow. "Would you care to explain why there are fruit loops in my bathroom sink, Atemu?"

--

Author's Note:

Sooo, I have a lot on my plate, but this is kind of a median for me. I'll keep my updates for AiaCR and Pennies, but this one's a bit more relaxing and a heck lot shorter for me. The whole purpose of this story is actually, really, to reverse the roles of Yugi and Yami without having them break in character. Hopefully, I didn't break their characters too much in this first chapter; and I hope you guys enjoy it. I promise it won't be too long, but obviously not too short, and if you're willing to read the rest, I'm willing to write more! :D Reviews would be nice!