1. This Could Be My Last Day

Everything is fragile
Everything is broken
You were full of living colours
And such a sense of wonder
Prophecy is written
Prophecy is spoken
I wish I could have saved you
But I saw you going under
I wish I could have saved you
But I think I'm going under
This could be my last day

-- From This Could Be My Last Day by Duke Special.

The dream was horribly clear, but clear in that way that lets you know you're in a dream. Yuugi felt like he was watching things from one step behind himself, lurking somewhere in his hairline.

He was used to feeling not quite in control when Yami piloted his body, but this was different. Now he couldn't feel the comforting warmth of Yami's soul next to his own. It wasn't gone;ithadn't been ripped away, it simply … wasn't there.

"Yuugi?"

He turned. Man, that felt bizarre, like turning around twice but only seeing one thing. His brain was an in-car CD-player repeating part of a track when the wheels caught a speed bump. He struggled to focus.

"Yuugi?"

It was Anzu. She stood in front of him, one loose fist raised to her mouth. She looked worried.

"Anzu?" Funny; saying her name like that, like she'd come to collect him for school a few minutes too early, when all around him stretched blackness that didn't feel like anything. It felt like the weirdest thing he'd ever done.

Weirder still, he was actually kind of surprised about that. Shouldn't he be demanding to know where Yami was? The last time he had a really weird dream he pulled a sword from a dragon's neck and … well, everyone knew how well that ended.

Anzu shook her head. "Yuugi, I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Oh yeah, real witty. Even in his dreams he was too tongue-tied around her to say anything worth much. Duel Monsters and friendship and saving the world – easy topics compared to when it was just him and Anzu and they forgot they'd seen each other snotty-nosed and bloody-kneed.

"I'm so sorry." Without warning she flew at him. "This is going to hurt."

Yuugi though she was going to bop him on the head like was always doing to Honda and Jounouchi. He flinched, until her arms closed around his neck and he realised it was actually a hug. Yet there wasn't time to appreciate a hug from Dream-Anzu like there usually was, because Dream-Anzu wasn't acting her usual self. There was no skimpy bikini, no rose petals, and no candlelit hamburgers – just a viciously tight hug and … a wet neck?

"Are you crying?" he asked.

"I'm so, so sorry." Her voice was all broken and choked with tears. Then she broke the hug, leaped to her feet and fled into the dark.

Yuugi stood blinking for a moment. "Don't I at least get a back rub?" There was always a back rub.

A scream bullwhipped out of the dark.

"Anzu?" Even half-removed from himself Yuugi felt dread cut into him, like tiny feet in pointed shoes dancing in his stomach. He started to run. "Anzu!"

She screamed again.

Then he saw her, materialising in the darkness like a lone candle in an underground corridor – dark as a passageway in an ancient Egyptian tomb. She had her arms over her head and looked terrified.

"Stay back, Yuugi!" She sounded terrified, too, but she used her bossy voice through it. You couldn't defy Anzu's bossy voice. It was against the laws of nature and sanity.

Yuugi hovered, not sure what to do. Why was screaming? What was she protecting herself from? He couldn't see anything. Desire to run to her was hindered by confusion.

"I'm sorry, Yuugi. I really am. This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me."

"What? I don't understand."

The darkness rose up like a giant smoky fist. It covered Anzu so fast Yuugi was still hovering when she vanished. He opened his mouth. He ran forward.

A crunch.

A spray.

A thick splatter of blood appeared at his feet.

Yuugi stopped running, too horrified to move. It was only a dream, but he stared at the blood.

And it was blood; he knew that. It wasn't red paint, or coloured water, or spilled nail polish. Anzu once spilled a bottle of Cherry Chalice polish on her living room carpet, and Yuugi had helped clean it up before her mom got home. They'd been thirteen at the time, him creating a game out of cleaning, her rounded in funny places and being girly where she never had before.

There'd been a pink stain when they were done, so they dragged the armchair over and both squeezed onto it so Mrs. Mazaki couldn't move it back. It was a stupid solution, doomed to failure once he went home, but they'd never been big on common sense. They thought they could make miracles out of mulch.

No, this wasn't nail polish. This was different. The darkness was everywhere, so it looked like it had landed on nothing at all; it was just hanging there, disconnected from time and space. It wasn't real – couldn't be real.

And yet …

And yet Anzu was gone, and Yuugi knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, better than he knew the inside of his own head, that this red spray was all that was left of her. Panic engulfed him.

"ANZU!"

"Aibou!"

Yami's voice snapped Yuugi back into consciousness. He sat up in bed, breathing hard. His chest hurt. So did his throat. He felt like he'd been screaming for real.

Maybe he had.

Yami bent over him, the dresser just visible through his shoulder. He looked concerned. "Aibou? Were you having a nightmare?"

"Did I make a noise?" Yuugi asked blearily.

"Not out loud, but you were very distressed. What's the matter?" He reached out as though to soothe Yuugi's brow, but they both knew it was only a gesture. He couldn't actually touch Yuugi, just pretend and by symbolic.

Yuugi stared at him, refocusing his mind. Usually having Yami nearby was a comfort. Yami was strong in the ways that counted, and always looked at Yuugi with eyes that seemed like he knew exactly what to do in a crisis, even when he didn't.

Yet after that horrible dream they were the wrong kind of eyes for Yuugi to be looking into. It was completely stupid, but suddenly all he wanted was call Anzu to make sure she was okay.

"What time is it?"

Yami glanced at the clock with only a slight sneer. Anything technological unrelated to duelling cut little ice with him. He'd only just mastered the microwave, owing to Jounouchi getting him hooked on toffee popcorn during the European Duel Monsters Finals – not that Yami would ever admit to being hooked on anything except duelling. "Four fifteen."

Oh. Too early to call anyone.

Yuugi scrubbed his eyes. He could still hear Dream-Anzu's scream. It'd been so real. The scream actually felt like something tangible – something he'd like to peel off his skin and dump in the waste paper basket like the face masks she once made all the gang try.

"Yeah, I had a nightmare. I'm going to get a drink of water."

Yami watched him rise. He had the most expressive eyes Yuugi had ever known, though other people would disagree. He supposed sharing brainspace made you extra receptive to other people's expressions.

"I'm fine, Yami. Just a little wigged out."

"Wigged … out?"

"Bothered. On edge. Frazzled."

"Ah." Yami nodded. "You've been labouring too hard over your lessons. That … home-work your tutors give you," he said the word like Jounouchi might say 'dog crap', "is too much. It has made you unwell."

"Hardly. I've barely touched my English translation, and my geography project's due in on Friday. I haven't even started it yet. Anzu's been working on hers for the past month. She showed it to me this morning – it's twenty-five pages long and she's not finished yet."

Anzu. Connecting her to reality with something so mundane helped. Anzu the diligent student was not Dream-Anzu. Yuugi visualised her poring over her books, chewing on her pen, not the shadowy hand and red splatter of his nightmare. It helped.

"You work too hard."

"On the wrong things."

That wasn't a pout. The King of Games did notpout. Ever. "Your deck needed organising."

The exchange pulled a small smile to Yuugi's lips, but his throat was still sore. He forwent a dressing gown and padded barefoot to the kitchen. Yami followed, as was his habit.

There was a glass leftover from supper on the sideboard. They argued in whispers about the pros and cons of duelling versus schoolwork. Eventually Yuugi washed out his glass and upended it on the draining board because he couldn't reach the cupboard without a box, and all the boxes were locked in the storeroom.

He thought they'd been quiet, but as they climbed the stairs past Grandpa's room a crotchety voice called out. "Get to bed, Yuugi. It's bumblebutt in the morning and you have school."

"Sorry, Grandpa. I was just getting a drink."

"You'd better not wet the bed."

"Grandpa! I haven't done that since I was five years old!"

Grandpa Mutou grunted and said nothing more. He was irritable when he was tired, so Yuugi tiptoed back to his own room and burrowed under the covers. They were still warm, but he lay awake, unwilling to doze off in case he dreamed again. The peace of the night was spoiled, so when his alarm went off a few hours later he felt like he hadn't slept at all.

"You look terrible," Grandpa said across the breakfast table. He didn't look too hot himself, but then again he hadn't ever been a morning person. He nursed viscous black coffee while another, even stronger pot percolated.

The house would smell of coffee for the rest of the day, but that was okay. Yuugi liked that his Grandpa smelled of coffee grinds and cookies, rather than that weird mothballs-and-whiskey whiff he'd smelled around other old men who'd lost their wives. He mainly found those men at bus stops and in post office queues, and their yellowed teeth and uncombed hair gravitated to him like moths to a flame. Sugoroku Mutou was eccentric, but at least he hadn't let himself go.

"Mmf." Yuugi stuffed nattō into his mouth. He barely tasted it, and wished they had some sour plums to wake up his palette.

However, the grocery run had once again been neglected, with only Sugoroku's precious Extra-Java and bare essentials lining their cupboards until someone went to the store. Even this was the last of the dried nattō. That someone would probably be Yuugi after school.

He sighed, resigned to the task. "I'm gonna need some money, Grandpa."

"What? Why?"

"We're out of … pretty much everything. I figured I'd call in at the supermarket on the way home from school today."

"Ah, right, right. I hadn't noticed." Sugoroku nodded and absently patted the pockets of his dressing gown, as if he expected to find yesterday's takings there. He went to the breadbin where he kept a wad of notes and peeled off enough to cover food for the week. "You're a good boy, Yuugi. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Yuugi stowed the money in the side pocket of his backpack, next to his keys on their Kuriboh keychain.

The tacky little thing was one of the gifts Shizuka got them when she went back to Tokyo. Jounouchi had a tiny Baby Dragon, Honda a motorbike on a plastic string, and even Otogi held out his hands for the little pink fuzzy dice she'd bought. Anzu had squealed at her gift – a keychain from which a miniature Black Magician Girl dangled. It was so small the features were blurred and smushed together so that she looked more like a blank mannequin than the Duel Monsters card, but Anzu had seemed extra pleased at this.

"She could be anyone I want her to be. Oh, Shizuka, I love it!"

"Girls," Jounouchi had said, shaking his head, and Yuugi was inclined to agree. He didn't understand girls and wasn't sure he ever would – especially more than one girl at a time. Individually he could kind of figure them out, or at least nod and smile in the right places and not look at their chests too much. Girls who travelled in packs were a mystery akin to the Rubik's Cube before he solved it in grade school. And he hadn't even peeled off the stickers, either. That was a cinch compared to girl-talk and giggles.

"Is Anzu calling for you this morning?" Sugoroku asked.

Yuugi nodded through his mouthful. It was he only thing that had stopped him snatching up the phone. Well, that and the growing sense of ridiculousness at his overreaction. Everyone had nightmares; it was nothing to get so freaked about. He hadn't tried to call Jounouchi last week when he dreamt they were both drowning in custard, or Ryou after that dream about vacationing in the Bermuda Triangle with Gackt. By the time he was ready to leave, Yuugi had convinced himself his nightmare was the product of too much dorayaki before bedtime, and he stepped out of the store feeling better.

However, he couldn't deny he felt better when he saw Anzu's frantic wave. She was still halfway down the street, but ran to the Game Shop with a big grin.

"Hey, Yuugi."

"Hi, Anzu. You look happy."

"I am. I had the most amazing dream last night."

Yuugi's heart sank, but only a little. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I dreamt I was practising my dancing on the way to school, and some big producer drove by in his car and talent-spotted me, right on the pavement. He whisked me off to Hollywood and I became a big star in all these musical movies. I had my name in lights, a limousine, an entourage, and … ooh, everything. It was major league cool."

"It sounds it."

She cocked her head to one side, smile fading slightly. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

"That's a kind thing to say."

"You know what I mean." She stuck out her tongue and did a little twirl, as though the producer from her dream might be driving by. "Didn't you sleep well?"

Yuugi decided not to tell her about his nightmare, since it was stupid anyway and might make her laugh at him. What might she think of him if he was subconsciously getting hugs and then killing her off?

He shrugged off her question like a duck would rainwater. "I guess I'm a little worried about our geography projects."

"You mean you still haven't started yours? Yuugi!"

"I know, I know, but it's just so difficult! And boring. I try to start it, but every time I end up doing something more interesting. Like pairing my socks. Or vacuuming the shelves in the spare room."

Anzu frowned. "You're getting as bad as Jounouchi and Honda. They're a bad influence on you."

"Don't be mean. I was never a good student like you."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But you've gotten a lot worse since those two became your study buddies. Honestly, all they know how to study are Duel Monsters, motorcycles and the girls' netball team."

Anzu didn't hold the netball team in much regard. Domino High didn't allow cheerleaders, so all the bubble-heads had instead migrated onto the school newspaper and some of the sports teams. The netballers were an especially fluffy bunch who coasted on their short skirts and popularity. Yuugi thought he remembered Anzu trying out for them once and failing to make the cut, but that had to be wrong, because she was always the loudest anti-netballer and strongest campaigner for abolishing all-girl and all-boy teams.

"They're not that bad."

"Are you kidding?"

"They're your friends too."

"Yeah, but I don't study with them. Jounouchi practically lives in detention."

"That's not a good argument."

"No, but his horrible grades are. They compete to see who comes last in every class. Look, Yuugi, if geography is really bothering you, I'll come over to help sometime this week. We can spend an evening blitzing your project so you don't have to worry about it anymore."

The prospect of Anzu coming over was an appealing one, even if it was just for schoolwork. Outside the brief journey to school, they rarely spent time as just the two of them anymore. It was almost enough to make Yuugi mourn his days of them as bestest-best-friends, before high school and the Millennium Puzzle changed their lives. Almost.

And speaking of brief journeys … Domino High loomed over them like some vengeful god of education waiting for human sacrifices.

"This is where we part ways," Anzu announced, darting through the gates. "I got really stuck on part of that English homework, and I wanted to talk to Mr. Ishida before class."

Yuugi boggled. "That translation homework was due for today?"

"This afternoon, yes." Anzu paused and narrowed her eyes at him. "You mean you haven't done that either?"

"Oh man." Yuugi ran both hands through his hair – not that it made much difference. "I am so dead. Mr. Ishida hasn't accepted an excuse about late homework in forty years. He's always telling us that. Now he's going to skin me alive for forgetting the deadline. Oh man…"

Anzu sighed and rolled her eyes. "Do I need to ask what you were doing instead? I'll bet it starts with 'Duel' and ends with 'Monsters'. Look, we don't need to hand it in until after lunch. Did you bring a packed lunch?"

"No," Yuugi replied miserably. "I'm supposed to get groceries after school because we have no food."

"How about this: I snag you something out of the cafeteria, and you spend lunch break doing your translation. Even if it's total nonsense, at least you'll have something, and Mr. Ishida can't fail you for needing extra tuition."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Sure. What are friends for, if not saving your soul from evil spirits and evil English teachers?"

Yuugi wanted to hug her. In another time and place he might have, but at that moment a hand clapped him on the shoulder and a familiar voice bellowed into his ear.

"Hey, Yuugi." Jounouchi leaned on him, grinning, without a book-bag in sight. That could mean one of two things; either he'd genuinely forgotten everything, or his father hadn't been hung-over enough to stay in bed this morning, meaning a quick getaway for Jounouchi, sans school things, to preserve his health.

Yuugi wondered why Jounouchi stuck with a drunken, violent thug like that, but when asked, Jounouchi only ever shrugged and mumbled, "He's my pop," like that explained everything. Honda was even worse, leaving it as just a shrug and 'If You Don't Know Then I'm Not Going to Tell You' expression.

Anzu skipped away from them towards the student entrance. "See you later, guys. I gotta catch Mr. Ishida before he leaves the faculty lounge."

Jounouchi watched her go and sniffed. "That girl is a workaholic. It's not healthy." Then he leaned down and patted Yuugi on the shoulder again. "Heeeey, Yuugi, old buddy old pal – can I borrow your English translation to copy?"

Domino High was littered with vending machines, but Anzu had read too many articles on salt levels in processed foods to take this easy option.

Yuugi was addicted to convenience food when he could get his hands on it, and had an enviable metabolism that burned calories faster than a bombed oilfield, but Anzu was one of life's do-gooders in a whether-they-like-it-or-not way. She could've indulged him, nabbed a cup-o-soup or a pretzel and been back in five minutes.

Instead, she fought her way through the crowd and plunked a tray on the rail in the cafeteria. School food wasn't so bad, she reasoned. At least they used fresh vegetables instead of chemicals all the colours of the rainbow.

After ticking off other people in the queue by pondering her choices, she elected to feed Yuugi with yakisoba; the fried Chinese noodles, offset by flaked fish, would help stir his brain into working order. Fish was brain food, she'd heard somewhere, and Yuugi's brain needed waking up today.

She'd watched him as the morning went on, head nodding further and further forward as his eyelids drooped. His forehead almost touched the desk during History. He was terrible unless he got a full night's rest; in fact, she was amazed he'd made it this far without dozing off.

Thinking this, she also flicked a pot of yoghurt and some mochi onto the tray, the little sweetened balls of rice making a noise like pebbles in a pond. Protein, carbs, and a sugar boost; that would keep him awake enough to do his homework before class resumed.

Students weren't supposed to take trays or plates from the cafeteria, so Anzu sat down only long enough to wrap up the mochi, remove the lid of her own bento box, and scrape the yakisoba into the lid. That done, she left the hurly-burly and carefully made her way back to the classroom.

However, rather than a diligently working Yuugi, what she came back to was an adorable figure slumped across his books, snoring softly. Yuugi's cheek was waffled against his book, which had made a red mark the shape of a right-angle. Even his hair drooped.

While it would've been kinder to leave him, Anzu sighed and gently shook his shoulder. "Yuugi, wake up. Hey, Yuugi, rise and shine."

Yuugi sat bolt upright. His eyes were so wild, and his pupils so wide, that Anzu actually took a step back, bringing both hands up to cup the bento halves so they wouldn't spill down her front.

For a second neither of them moved, as if assessing what the other would do next. Then Yuugi sucked in a deep breath, let it go and blinked at her.

"Geez, Yuugi, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"N-Nothing…" he stammered, scrubbing at his scalp. "I was just … I fell asleep."

"I could see that."

"You woke me up."

"Uh, yeah," she said in a 'No duh' way. "Homework, remember? English translation?" Anzu placed the bento lid of yakisoba on his desk and pushed it towards him with the tip of one finger. "Here, eat this. You'll be strung up by your big toes if Mr. Ishida catches you falling asleep in class."

Yuugi stared at the lid before dragging it under his mouth. "Thanks."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Anzu swivelled the chair and sat down at the desk in front of him to arrange her own lunch, fetching the yoghurt and mochi from her pockets to complete his meal.

"Sure I did," Yuugi said unconvincingly.

"I'll bet you didn't. I'll bet you sat up all night watching a Duel Monster marathon, or sorting cards, or something. Did Yami put you up to it?"

"No! I just had a bad dream and didn't get back to sleep afterwards." Yuugi suddenly looked panicked, as if he'd said more than he intended.

"A bad dream, huh?" Anzu mused. "That could be all the stress from not doing your homework. They say you get nightmares when you don't think about stuff during the day, so your subconscious has to figure it out at night instead."

"Uh, yeah. That's probably it." Yuugi stuffed noodles into his mouth, forestalling further discussion.

"It's no biggie, but it's a big fat warning sign that you're worried about the amount of homework you do." Delicately, Anzu ate her own lunch. She wasn't a great cook by any estimation (last time she tried to make a meal for the gang they'd ordered pizza and helped her scrape the worst of the explosion from the kitchen walls and ceiling), but she could manage bento. "So how far did you get with the translation before you fell asleep?"

Yuugi looked at his book. "Uh…"

"You didn't do any of it?"

"I did the first line?"

"But the first line was in the example."

"Oh." Yuugi blushed and looked at the clock. "I'm screwed. I'm totally and utterly screwed. There's no way I'll be able to translate this whole passage before class starts."

"Sure you will. Look, turn your book a little so I can see it. I won't do it for you, but I'll point you in the right direction while we eat, okay?"

True to her word, Anzu didn't do it for him. She clicked her tongue, tutted, rolled her eyes and jabbed with her finger, but was generally helpful. By the time the bell rang Yuugi had an entire page of scrawly handwriting ready to hand in. It wasn't perfect. It probably wasn't even very good. Despite having been to America several times, he found reading and writing English difficult and laboured with each task the teacher set. However, this time, at least, he'd escaped detention and thanked Anzu profusely as their classmates filtered into the room.

"No problem." She waved away his thanks, but two little spots of pink appeared on her cheeks, so he knew she was pleased. "Just remember to write down the due-date for homework next time, okay?"

"I will. Thank you so much, Anzu. You've saved my life."

"Hardly." Yami had uncurled out of the Puzzle when they were midway though 'You can buy bread at the supermarket', and spent the whole time peering over Yuugi's shoulder and making comments about the uselessness of lessons anyway. "I see no life-threatening situations here, only paltry formalities of learning."

Yuugi doubted Yami was as staunchly anti-school as he made out, since more than once he'd shushed Yuugi during History and Literature classes, and shown a frankly disturbing interest in Pythagoras's Theorem. However, when Yami was of a mind about something he could be so grumpy you agreed with him just for (literal) peace of mind. At least that way he would sometimes attempt to amuse his aibou by standing next to the teacher and making a running commentary to what he or she was saying. More than one boring science lesson had passed thus, as had a happy few minutes afterwards when he told Honda and Jounouchi about it – though Yuugi didn't tell Anzu what Yami was up to anymore. Last time he did she just glared and said it was irresponsible when so much depended on their education.

A tall girl with kohl-rimmed eyes loomed over them. "You're in my seat, Mazaki."

"Charming as always, Mikata." Anzu rose and ruffled Yuugi's head in an entirely too-sibling-like way. However, she paused before moving back to her own place, and looked at him with concern. "Listen, Yuugi, you remember I said I'd come over sometime and help you with your geography project? Should I make it tonight? If you're losing sleep over this, then we should knock it on the head as soon as possible and put your mind at rest."

A small cheer erupted in Yuugi's back-brain, but he just nodded, trying to be casual and not jump up and down like an idiot. "That'd be cool. Thanks, Anzu."

"No problem."

"Are you two lovebirds finished?" The girl tapped her foot impatiently. "You've already had all lunch together. You can smooch some other time."

Yuugi flushed to the roots of his hair, but Anzu just rolled her eyes.

"See, Mikata, you only understand things in their most basic terms. It is possible for a boy and a girl to be friends without it leading to romance – or in your case, a quick fumble behind the bike sheds."

The girl, Mikata, bared her teeth in a gruesome parody of a smile. "Judging me by your own standards?"

There was history between Anzu and Mikata Teki – they'd been 'friends' in elementary school, until Anzu threw in her lot with Yuugi. Mikata was one of 'Those Girls', the girls all other girls wanted to be or be with, and loved to secretly loathe. Just the way she entered a room was obnoxious, pounding her heels and blinking her big, overdone eyes as though she expected everyone to admire her expensive, genuine leather shoes.

Mikata wasn't used to rejection, especially in favour of geeky little twerps like Yuugi Mutou. Consequently, she'd begun a vendetta against them as vicious as it was petty, which lasted until Jounouchi and Honda came on the scene. Even Mikata Teki was wary of those two, so her vendetta downgraded into a snippy little feud with Anzu, relegated to meetings in the classroom and graffiti in the girls' bathroom.

Anzu dismissed the whole thing as casually as Jounouchi and Honda's threats when she forced them to watch chick-flicks on Movie Night. Mikata Teki, she said, was so far below her radar she was more likely to hear an earthworm fart than a snipe from her lips.

Still, Yuugi noted, when it came to the crunch Anzu still got her hands dirty instead of backing down. He watched the two girls metaphorically circle each other, aware of the tension crackling over his head. Female fights were even nastier when the words stopped – that was when you got glares that could melt your fillings. It was only the timely arrival of the teacher that put an end to what could have been a very nasty squabble.

"Trust Mr. Ishida to spoil the catfight action," Jounouchi grumbled as he slid into his seat. He sat closer to Yuugi than Anzu, and so felt safe in saying this – apparently incorrectly, judging by the murderous look Anzu hurled his way.

"I heard that," she mouthed.

"Dude! Is she related to bats or something?"

Yuugi waited until Anzu had turned away. "You know how it is with Mikata."

"I know, I know, but she doesn't have to take it out on me."

"Anzu hasn't done anything to you."

"Not yet." Jounouchi wiggled a finger in his ear and faced front, ready to start the afternoon only because at the other end was a brief portal of freedom between school and home.

Jounouchi and Honda had arranged to go to the video arcade after school, and Yuugi had been going with them – though he now realised he couldn't if Anzu was coming over. While she wasn't against the arcade, something told him she wouldn't be dissuaded from homework.

Another yawn struggled up Yuugi's throat. He tamped it down and frowned, reminded of his earlier snooze. Though brief, it had brought with it a repeat of last night's dream that unsettled him terribly. He didn't usually get recurring nightmares – recurring dreams, yes, but they were pastel-coloured and tended to feature bikinis, back-rubs and … other things beginning with B. Thinking about this nightmare sent fresh jangles of unease through him.

Yami coalesced on the edge of his desk. "Something is wrong. I can tell."

Yuugi thought back at him, No it's not. I'm just tired.

"That excuse may work on Anzu, but not me, aibou. Your mind is troubled, and your troubles are my troubles. What is bothering you?"

For a second Yuugi considered telling him. It was still ridiculous to be so flustered by a dumb dream, but maybe telling Yami would disperse the anxiety in his gut. A problem shared was a problem halved, right?

Yuugi swung between happy-go-lucky and anxious. By comparison, he'd seldom seen Yami act without confidence that what he was doing was absolute and right. Of course, he hadn't been around when Yami fell to pieces during the Oricalchos fiasco, but even others' accounts weren't enough to dim Yuugi's confidence in Yami. Now they'd retrieved the Egytian God Cards, someday, possibly soon, Yami would leave him – leave them all – but until then Yuugi deferred to his self-assurance.

"Mr. Mutou," Mr Ishida interrupted Yuugi's thoughts in as timely a fashion as he had interrupted Anzu and Mikata's spat. "Perhaps you'd like to begin with Segment One?"

"Uh…" Yuugi clumsily stood up and then realised he had no idea what the teacher was talking about.

Jounouchi hissed out the side of his mouth, "Translation homework. Better you than me, buddy."

Yuugi was flooded with relief that he had something to read out, and thought hastily at Yami, I'll tell you later.

"Yes, you will."

"Mr. Mutou?"

Yuugi cleared his throat. "Um, 'In the supermarket you can buy bread…'"

To Be Continued…

Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs

"Wigged ... out?"

-- Commonly found in the mouths of characters from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.

"Get to bed, Yuugi. It's bumblebutt in the morning and you have school."

-- This is a riff off the word 'Bumblefuck', as in, "What are you doing still using your laptop to write stories at bumblefuck in the morning!?" I just can't see Sugoroku as the cussing type, even at 4a.m.

Yuugi stuffed nattō into his mouth. He barely tasted it, and wished they had some sour plums to wake up his palette.

-- Nattō is a traditional Japanese food made from fermented soybeans, popular especially at breakfast.

He hadn't tried to call Jounouchi last week when he dreamt they were both drowning in custard, or Ryou after that dream about vacationing in the Bermuda Triangle with Gackt

-- Gackt Camui is a famous Japanese musician, songwriter and actor.

By the time he was ready to leave, Yuugi had convinced himself his nightmare was the product of too much dorayaki before bedtime.

-- Dorayaki is a type of Japanese confection, consisting of two small pancake-like patties made from kasutera (sponge cake made of sugar, flour, eggs, and starch syrup.) wrapped around a filling of sweet red bean paste.

Domino High loomed over them like some vengeful god of education waiting for human sacrifices.

-- This feeling doesn't change whether you're pupil or teacher. Trust me.

She wasn't a great cook by any estimation (last time she tried to make a meal for the gang they'd ordered pizza and helped her scrape the worst of the explosion from the kitchen walls and ceiling), but she could manage bento.

-- I've always liked the idea Anzu is a terrible cook, but tries hard anyway. I imagine the guys would be her ever-present guinea pigs. Bento is (and I'm quoting directly from Wikipedia here): 'a single-portion takeout meal common in Japanese cuisine. A traditional bento consists of rice, fish or meat, and one or more pickled or cooked vegetables as a side dish. Containers range from disposable mass-produced to hand crafted lacquerware. While bento are readily available at convenience stores and bento shops throughout Japan, it is still considered an essential skill of a Japanese housewife to be able to prepare an appealing boxed lunch. Bento can be very elaborate, aesthetically pleasing cuisine arrangements. Often the food is arranged in such a way as to resemble other objects: dolls, flowers, leaves, and so forth.'