--

two.

--

It took seven towels, two trash bags, four sponges, one full tub of Oxiclean, and nine boxes of baking soda before the bathroom actually looked like what Yami first entered when attempting to wash dishes. An hour and a half into cleaning, Mrs. Suzuki Mutou deemed him horribly incapable with a mop (though it was mostly his fault for accidentally breaking it in two), politely asked that he grabbed a pair of clean clothes from Yugi's room and recommended using the master bedroom's shower since he apparently smelled like two thousand year-old clams.

One, she was off by a millennium, and two, although regaining all his memories, Yami still hadn't the faintest idea whether or not he'd ever had clams. Shoving that matter aside and relieved after Mister Mutou explained quite a bit of the once pharaoh's situation (though, apparently not a lot. The woman seemed to know more than she let on), the spatula was gone from her sight and he learned she was very polite and headstrong.

And very protective of her household.

Though clearly punishing Yami and telling him he had to help clean the mess he created, after the long time trying to clean up, the noble unfortunately created more harm than good. That being said, Mister and Mrs. Mutou relieved him of his duties and Yami was reminded of personal hygiene—something he really didn't need in the afterlife.

As he stood in the shower, water splashing against shoulders as he faced the wall, Yami contemplated his current predicament. Despite the fact both adults were clearly amused by his handicaps, it wasn't how he imagined first impressions to go. If anything, he quietly groaned, Yami would have wished that he could go back in time.

He had never had so much trouble in his life!

With an unceremonious sigh, he reached for the shampoo—Herbal Essence, apparently—and combed through the knots of his hair. He quickly washed off, wiping the last of dried, crusty food on his body and checked twice to make sure he didn't reek of cat puke. With much success, Yami turned the nozzle off and covered himself in a towel before heading toward Yugi's room.

He caught a quick glance of Mister Mutou and Mrs. Mutou still trying to fix the drain. A pang of guilt carved into his chest and he frowned, but knew he had a better chance of being cursed to the Shadow Realm than be allowed back into the bathroom. He opened the door to his other self's room, quickly taking in the sight and sighed.

Absolutely spotless.

There were days where Yami had lectured Yugi about cleaning his room, but was childishly shrugged off for acting so fatherly. Back then, his intention was only to make his aibou remember that although Yami needed help in finding out whom he was, Yugi needn't lose himself in the process. The teenaged pharaoh couldn't have cared less about the state of this room. Until now.

He missed the lingering scent of soda pop and pizza; having to be wary before treading across little pieces from other board games. He missed being able to stare at this room and grin, knowing full well that out of anyone, this room belonged to his other self. Yami leaned at the door frame, hair dripping and blinding his eyes and towel tied promiscuously at his hips. He…missed that smile he would get, and the playful roll of Yugi's eyes as the words, "clean your room, aibou" went in one ear and out the other.

Oh, cripes. It'd only been a day.

With a void sigh, Yami pushed the hair out of his eyes, shut the door behind him and looked through Yugi's closet. His fingers looped around the first shirt he saw; then a pair of jeans and a rickety couple of converse Yugi no longer wore. He changed quickly and pushed away the gnawing bother whining that there was no leather in Yugi's closet.

His eyes wandered to the mirror and forced a languid half smile. Black, ebony locks. Crackling, thunderous bangs. Flaming, flamboyant red at the tips of wild tresses and gleaming in his eyes. Had Yugi and Yami coexisted before, these features would have been prominent to only him, instead of being identical to the younger one. It was strange how he made this transition to this new world, but again not so surprising.

Yami tugged at the loose shirt dangling at his slim waist and cursed it. Running a hand through his hair, he reminded himself that despite generally looking like a duplicate, there were so many tiny, intricate details that made them different. Their size was one of them. Before, during their transformations, Yugi had every right to call him the "other me." He would inherit the same fuchsia orbs as his other self. Milky white skin unique only to one Mutou boy became his and in a way, their minds merged together. Back then he was no longer the Nameless Pharaoh, but Yugi Mutou himself.

And now…he was him. Whoever that was. Dark, alluring red eyes and pale skin with the slightest tint of caramel. Arching an ardent eyebrow, Yami took another moment to ravish the sight and indulge on the fact that he indeed had his own body without any handicaps (though, one might consider his inability to clean a disadvantage) and touched his own face. He proceeded with running a hand through his hair and for five minutes, tested the elasticity of his cheeks.

How on earth did they stretch that far? The world may never know.

"Atemu, will you come here for a moment?"

"I—yes, of course." Yami involuntarily cringed at the mention of his real name, along with the soreness his mouth now endured from stretching his cheeks out too far. He grabbed the used towel between his fingers and awkwardly adjusted to the new feeling of his pants.

Not leather. Or cotton. Just denim. With a grimace and knowing very well he would probably have to get used to the new feel of his pants, Yami gracefully waddled toward the door and successfully found himself at the kitchen table. His eyes were met with those of Yugi's grandfather and mother. They sat across from him, instantaneously tearing away from another conversation and glancing to his form.

"You look nice," smiled Mrs. Mutou.

"Um, thank you." Yami blinked, yet again surprised by the sweetness and sincerity teeming from her lips. He'd only seen Mrs. Mutou a few times and quite frankly, was too used to her being blinded by good intentions of sending Yugi off to a good college and scornfully hitting her son upside the head for doing anything outrageous or silly. He awkwardly returned the smile.

"Well, go ahead Atemu." Mister Mutou's elderly smile widened and he gestured to the chair in front of him. "Sit. We must discuss your living arrangements."

Living arrangements? At that statement, Yami plopped down and scooted forward. He looked to the table and awkwardly played with the zipper of his pants. "I don't expect much, Mister and Mrs. Mutou—"

"Atemu." Mister Mutou arched an eyebrow, obviously surprised. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing amusedly. "Care to try that again?"

"I…I apologize." Though Yami wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for. Red rushed to his face and he looked between the both of them, still quite unsure of how to react and what on earth to say. Again, his fingers found the zipper to Yugi's pants and he flicked it over and over again. Up, down, up, down. At least that was one thing he could not mess up.

Mister Mutou smiled, obviously sensing his uneasiness. "Do you know what you're apologizing for, son?"

"Well…yes…of course…I-I…absolute…no, not really." With a defeated sigh, his dark eyes studied the old man and fingers fiddled with his zipper. Playfulness brimmed through indigo orbs and the hidden mischief now resurfaced in the old man's eyes.

"Out of all the years I've known you—including your time spent in a box, dear boy, I have never been known as 'Mister Mutou.' You will address me as Sugoroku or, as I would enjoy, Grandpa and any form of that." Mister Mutou eyed him keenly, eyebrow cocked. "Understood?"

Yami opened his mouth, agape. He slowly nodded, looking back to Mister Mu…Sugoroku, and felt his cheeks blaze. "I don't think I deserve such an honor, Mister Mutou."

"Preposterous." Sugoroku waved his hand dismissively. "Now…try it out for yourself."

Red orbs scanned the table and fingers fiddled with his pants. Yami felt himself sag from the erect position once before held and bit his lip. Quietly, he muttered the name of the man he'd known for so long. "Sugo—"

"No."

The once pharaoh frowned, startled. "What do you mean—?"

"Say the one I want you to say and you darn well know what I'd rather you call me." Sugoroku's eyes narrowed and he dauntingly urged Yami to try and backsass him.

His entire face glowed in fluster once again. "Gran…father," he quietly stammered. After watching the approval dance across Sugoroku's face (albeit a little disappointed he'd still been so formal,but the old man urged him on), he continued. "I just…would like to thank you for…inviting me over for the day and…stuff."

Sugoroku's expression softened. "Allowing you to stay one day is certainly not enough to repay you for how much you've helped my grandson."

Yami's cheeks burned. He bit his lip in contemplation and embarrassedly shrugged. His eyes landed on the bracelet yet again and he weighed his options. Though he'd rather stay here and close to Yugi, it would have been rude demand residence here. He wasn't Pharaoh Atemu, he was just…well, him. "If you will allow me to stay for this one day, I will leave soon after and be out of your hair."

Sugoroku silenced.

Cripes. He knew he'd blown it with the old man after wrecking the bathroom, but Yami had hoped he had enough credit to be given at least one day in the Mutou Household. Awkwardly standing, he stared at the ground; ashamed that he had such an arrogant assumption. For years he'd duped the family and had them thinking he was their successor, Yugi Mutou, when in fact, he wasn't.

"I guess," He whispered guiltily, "I'll be going then. I am sorry for even—"

"Atemu. Sit."

"I…what—"

"Sit."

"I—okay." Confused and deciding he'd already shed of his pride, Yami plopped in his seat, not daring to defy the intimidation set in Sugoroku's eyes. He glanced to Mrs. Mutou, who smiled and also challenged him to go against her father.

"You are to live here until further noticed," Sugoroku sternly responded. In one graceful move, Mrs. Mutou went to the refrigerator and began tinkering with several ingredients. Giving only a slight notice to it, Yami stared at the elderly man in surprise and dumbfounded. Sugoroku took this as his signal to go on and arched an eyebrow. "Did you think I would allow you to sleep on the streets or get by on so little? You told me on our walk here that this was your first day with this body and…what's it been? Eleven months? A year?"

"Ten months and fif…ten months," Yami said. He stared at the man intently and tried his best to decipher any cryptic message, but found there was no such thing. Sugoroku Mutou was being one-hundred percent sincere.

"It's seemed so much longer without you around." Nostalgia twinkled in the man's eyes. The elder Mutou smiled genuinely and put a hand on Yami's own. "Don't let this shop fool you, young man. Now—I have enough money not just saved up from running this business, but from years of travelling in order to support more than just my grandson. Yugi can take you shopping this weekend for essentials—such as clothing and stuff. Suzuki and I will go out and buy whatever furniture is needed and all you must do is adjust—feel as home as you need. Just don't try to clean."

"I…But…M-Mister Mutou…"

"That's Grandpa, son." Sugoroku eyed him in exasperation and smiled. "Please. Wipe the shock off your face. Now—did the Gods only give you a new body or did they establish who you are?"

"…I am registered as a citizen, yes." And if he did not fulfill his obligations, all of his birth and health records would disappear just as they had appeared—without notice. Yami looked down, cheeks igniting as he took in all of this newfound information.

"Ah." The elder nodded victoriously and crossed his arms. "Then I do believe, Atemu, you are only seventeen. Next week, we can enroll you for class at Domino High just like Yugi."

"Mister Mu…G-Grandpa, you don't have to do so much for me."

"Why yes, I do. Son, if you did not exist, then that fateful day when we found each other, I would have died."

Yami stopped breathing. The memory flowed back in his head and he looked back to Sugoroku, who reminded him so much of Siamun. Or really—does Siamun remind me more of Sugoroku? He shivered, tapping into his old memories and was frowning. The man he saved back then he thought was the elder who'd taken care of him as a child. In a way, he was only half wrong, but his intentions were misguided. Had he gone with his second instinct and thought it was an ordinary burglar, Atemu would have let him fall. And that was what scared Yami the most.

"Please, Atemu. Don't over think this. You are in no way a burden to us."

"I…I…" He let out a sharp sigh and obediently nodded. "Okay."

"Good." Sugoroku smiled in return, this time completely satisfied. "Is there anything else?"

"No, of course not. …well, actually…" Yami wanted to be in the way of as little people as possible. Already it was hard to take in, to understand what the old man was willing to do with him. Living here. Eating here. Buying him new clothes. Going to school. Despite being Atemu, as Yami he expected nothing more than to be responsible for himself; not…get a flattering modern-day substitute of the royal treatment. So, as Yami… "If I may make one request, Mister…Grandfather?"

Sugoroku eyed him, obviously preparing to deny any objection and ready to yet again pamper Yami's insecurities. "Yes?"

"I've been known so long as Yami that I'd rather be called that." His cheeks flared and Yami snapped away from the other's gaze. "If…if you'll allow me that privilege. I…I mean…you don't have to, but I would rather…perhaps I should just keep my mouth shut."

"No, oh no." Sugoroku's eyes widened and he smiled tenderly. "If that's what you want to be called, then we will…Yami. Hm, much more familiar on the tongue as it is. Alright. Now that we have most things settled—hmm, your living arrangements, school arrangements, and—have you eaten yet? Ah, I'm sure you have."

"There is one other thing," Yami said steadily. He eyed the elderly man and frowned. This time he would not back down and was set on this decision. "Regardless of how you want to treat me, Grandfather Sugoroku, I am not one who you need to spoil and I don't want to ask you of anything more than I should. So please—aside from basics, let me pay rent."

Sugoroku arched an eyebrow. "Rent."

Yami bit back a gulp. "Yes. Rent."

"Hmm." The man rubbed his chin troublesomely and studied the once pharaoh warily. Finally, he stopped and smiled further. "Working down in the Game Shop won't be a blow to your pride, will it?"

"No…no. Of course not." Yami smiled. "That would be great, sir."

"Good." Sugoroku yawned, pushing away from the table and artistically allowed his back to crackle. He stretched through his old age and smiled. "Now, go ahead and start if you wish. Knowing Yugi, he won't be home for a while and, quite frankly, I've yet to open the shop."

The noble teenager nodded in agreement. "Yes…okay."

"Mm, good. I'll be taking a well-deserved napped then." The elder grinned, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he eyed Yami. "Has anyone ever told you that you scare others easily?"

Again, Yami found himself blushing as he looked back to the table. "So I've been told."

"Very well then. Watch yourself and—please, don't lift a finger. I beg of you." With a tired chuckle, Sugoroku's belly rumbled mirthfully before he made his way to the room in the far back corner. Yami watched carefully, waiting until he heard the click of the old man's door before getting up and making a quick checklist of how to open up the shop.

Restock the cards, polish collectable figurines, dust the board game boxes, check if there were any defective stuffed animals…it'd been a while since he was put to work—

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Bwuh?" Yami snapped out of his thoughts, looking back to the soft voice he had forgotten about part way through his conversation with his new grandfather. "Pardon me, Mrs. Mutou?"

As her father had done and just as effectively, Mrs. Mutou eyed him with an amused smile. "Suzuki. You are to call me Suzuki so long as you stay in this household."

Yami darkened. "Okay."

Suzuki reappeared in front of Yami, gracefully pushing him back in his seat and set a plate of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies in front of him. Next to it appeared a glass of milk and she sat in front of him, ice tea in her left hand. "Will you eat before you work?"

"If you want me to." The look on her face wasn't lulled. Yami rethought his statement and slowly dipped a rich, chocolate chip cookie in the cup of cold milk. "I'd love to."

They sat in silence, occasionally glancing at one another. He slowly swallowed the last bits of his first cookie, eyes falling to the bracelet. Only a few hours had passed since Yugi had left for school. Before those few hours, Yugi had also been reluctant to have him around. No smile. No proper welcome. No, "I missed you." No smile. No laughter. No…no smile.

"Are you in love with my son?"

Yami fell out of his chair. His head collided first to the ground, followed by three irrationally hot cookies that landed on his back and he choked on the last bit of milk he managed to consume. Slowly rising, he eyed one Suzuki Mutou and felt the tips of his ears glow pink. "I-I beg your pardon?"

Suzuki did not flinch. She clasped her hands together, eyes twinkling with the same mischief of her father and what was obviously passed on to her son. "Why else would you come back, if not for my son? Do you love Yugi?"

"I…I…" He wasn't quite sure how to answer that one. By technicality, he had to prove his feelings about Yugi Mutou as he said, but despite them having to be non-hosty kind of feelings, there was nothing deeper. His thoughts drifted back to the ceremonial duel where his aibou had sobbed after winning. By default in Yami's mind, he had to do the right thing. Back then, leaving Yugi was what had been just, but after spending a countless amount of time away from his hikari, he couldn't be as sure. When Yugi had reached out to him that fateful day through their mind link, he jumped at the chance at coming back to see the modern world—or more particularly, Yugi. His eyes drifted back to the bracelet. Seven things he liked about one Yugi Mutou?

His innocence. His bravery. His persistence. His honor. His need to protect others. His endurance. His…his smile.

Things that he…loved about Yugi? Too many to count. But love him?

"Alright." He snapped out of his thoughts once Suzuki spoke again. She laughed softly and shook her head. "I should have seen this coming."

"Okay," he stupidly mumbled, cheeks flaring. Yami looked back to the cookies and shrugged. "If I may ask, you couldn't have reacted pleasantly when finding out I was impersonating your son."

Suzuki arched an amused eyebrow. "I wouldn't really call it impersonating. If anything, I think that you were the perfect confidence boost for my son. Pardon me for asking, but Yami…now that you have your memories back, were you always sure of yourself? If a stranger were to see you, they'd never think you had a confidence problem."

She must have not been seeing how insecure he felt at the moment. Yami shrugged, unwillingly thinking back to his memories in Egypt. "I became the pharaoh at a very young age," he quietly said. "Before that all I could do was cry and lean on my father for comfort, but once that beacon of support was gone, I realized I had to grow as a ruler."

"I see." She nodded slowly. "Your mother must have been very proud."

Yami paused and shook his head sadly with a sad smile. "No. I lost my mother when I was very young." Her eyes widened and he continued. "I don't remember a lot of her. There…was this one occasion when she took me out to pick flowers, but that's all. She was very pretty though." He ran a hand through his hair and slowly nodded to himself. Alluring red hair and exotic ruby orbs. That was his mother. Beautiful and extravagant, but not so that she was lost in riches. Just because she'd known her place did not mean she didn't acknowledge others.

"You can always talk to me if you want to." He looked up and faced her smile. Suzuki pressed a hand to his shoulder, slowly getting up and putting her empty glass next to the sink. She looked back kindly. "Anytime, Yami. I'll be your mother if you want me to."

"…thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, have fun with work."

Yami smiled back and stood up, hesitantly taking the plate of cookies along. He finished the last of his milk and lingered toward the stairs, watching as Suzuki pulled out a phonebook and undoubtedly called for a handyman. He sighed and looked back to the bracelet looped around his wrist.

Two Mutous down, one to go.

--

Author's Note:

Hmm, not much in this chapter, but pretty needed. C: I'm glad you guys like it so far and I hope you stay tuned; it won't be updated as much as my others (no time, sadly) but it will well enough. Thank you and… reviews would be nice!