A/N: Well, a much belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! This chapter's rather long and I found it quite difficult to write for a number of reasons. Firstly, this is my first attempt at dealing with some gory violence (though, it's rather brief). Also, this is the first chapter where we start to see some of the connection between past and present. This connection will be very important throughout, so I'm hoping to keep it lively and interesting as well as sticking to a lot of the original material from the series. Anyway, let me know what you think and thank you for your patience and continued support! Enjoy!

Chapter IX

There wasn't a lot that she knew for sure these days, but she did know one thing: it was hot. She was tired and thirsty and the heat seemed to get more oppressive the further she went. The outskirts of the capital seemed to go for miles, the thick of town always sitting just a little farther off in the distance. It was always just out of reach. She couldn't really complain, though. She'd had more fortune than anyone of her status deserved, but, as she found herself entering the endless maze of markets and hovels, Kisara couldn't help but feel that her luck had finally begun to run out.

She had no where else to go. All roads led here. It seemed like years had passed since the incident that had forced her out into the desert in the first place, without food, shelter, or direction. She'd just taken a horse and run. In the weeks that had followed, she'd moved from village to village, scraping by through odd jobs and chores and the kindness of strangers. She would sweep and sew for fresh water. She would cook and gather for a place to sleep. Some days the work was exhausting with little to gain, but Kisara had no complaints. Being free was enough for the time being and it was more than could be said for some. Even more than that, after all she had been through, she was alive.

She could have lived like that forever had she been anyone else. Anyone else could have simply faded into the daily lives of the people she came to know in each place. But, not her. Not Kisara. She could never get comfortable. She could never stop moving. When she was still for too long, she began to worry and, when she worried, things started to happen. It was always at night and it was always when she was alone. If it continued too long, people began asking questions. And, who was to blame them for pointing fingers at the girl who'd just come into town, white-skinned and white-haired?

And, they were right. It was her. The cycle had continued that way for nearly three months, but villages willing to open their arms to strangers had become few and far between as of late. Word had begun to spread about the white dragon- how, att night, it flew overhead, hunting for its next victim, be it a sheep, cow, or person. The tale had put the superstitious folk of Lower Egypt on alert. Such tales traveled quickly from village to village. With people on edge, Kisara was waved from town to town. It wasn't long before there seemed only one place she could go. That was how she, hot and tired and covered in dust, ended up in the outskirts of the pharaoh's city with the silhouette of his palace rising up like a great shadow as the sun began to set.

In the city, she would be one in thousands. Perhaps then, even if she stayed in one place, she could rest easy. It was likely that no one would ever find her there and, even if they did, it would be easy to hide as long as she kept her head down and her hair covered. With all the attention it brought her, she'd thought about cutting it off so many times. But, she just couldn't. What would her mother have said? Perhaps in the city, though, she could finally sleep. She was so tired: tired of walking, tired of working, and tired of death.

It was after dark before Kisara had made her way to what she believed was the main part of town and it was well into the night before she'd been allowed a place to stay. For one week, the price had been her horse, a price much higher than she had expected and one that had stung to her core. She was at the mercy of the city now, though, and such things were to be expected. Sleeping outside in the streets wasn't an option in a place like this. Slaves made their beds outside and she was likely to be mistaken for a piece of property if she didn't find shelter. That was the last thing she needed. If they came for her, they would be looking for a girl without money or home. A bed was worth the price, however short the time was it was promised. Kisara had little else to offer and, though she knew the choice had to be made, it still hurt as she watched a young boy take her traveling companion down an alleyway and away into the night, lost to her forever. She'd bid the poor steed farewell with a swift prayer to herself before turning to follow her young guide to her quarters.

Sleep had hit her swiftly. She had fallen asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the day's ride, and had slept well into the next day, much longer than she had allowed herself to in weeks. Even as late as it was, Kisara was only pulled from her rest when a visitor came to her room. She had been given the week in what amounted to a storage closet for the family's business belongings, complete with folded bits of cloth and tapestry, as well as some cleaning supplies. Stashed in the corner opposite of where Kisara had made her bed of straw and dirty linens was a small case that looked oddly out of place in the room. It was this that had drawn her visitor to her.

Though she didn't move much, Kisara slowly pulled the makeshift blanket off of her eyes as she heard someone enter. As her eyes came into focus in the late morning light, she identified her guest. It was the young boy from last night, the one who had taken her horse off into the darkness as she'd been lead off to her room. She sat up slowly and quietly, examining the boy as he hurriedly dug through the contents of the odd case. He apparently had not yet noticed that she was awake. She watched him dig until she heard a sigh of relief come from him. It was then that she decided to speak.

"Good morning.", she said softly as she announced herself.

The sudden sound of her voice, despite its quiet tone, startled the boy more than she would have imagined. He leapt around, his eyes wide with shock, as he attempted to hide his hands from her view. As her gaze met his, Kisara noticed the full look of fear on his face. Her eyes then wandered to his hands, hardly hidden from her, each one grasping onto bits of dried meat. It appeared that the boy and snuck away from his chores and come to steal a snack.

The boy didn't move. For a moment, both simply stared at each other, both unsure of what to do next. Kisara was the first to speak, the boy obviously still too frightened to move. He was clearly afraid of the home's new guest and she understood why. Kisara had been through her share of filching in her younger years, especially after she had been sold. It only seemed right to do her best to calm him.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

The boy still said nothing, but she did see him relax, though only a little. His hands still clung tightly to the food in his hand. After another moment of silence, Kisara began to wonder if he didn't understand her. She looked around the room for a moment, trying to think of something to help her communicate. When her eyes finally found their way onto her small satchel, she knew what to do. She slowly got up from where she had slept, briefly looking at the boy to see that he was still there. As he watched her move, his expression changed from fear to curiosity. She was glad to see that he knew she meant no harm. When she got to her bag, she dug through its limited contents and pulled out a small piece of flatbread. Though it was no longer as fresh as it had been when she'd gotten it, food was food. It was never to be discarded. When she held it out to him, he watched her for a moment, still looking curious, but also confused. He considered her for a moment. Then, he turned to place the meat from one hand back in its hiding spot and took her bread in its place. The two looked at each other a moment longer, the boy as if he was waiting for some indication of what to do next.

"Well, go on.", she told him, kindly, as she waved her hand towards the door.

This time, Kisara was sure she saw a slight smile. The boy nodded to her and then bolted out the entrance.

This pattern continued for five days. That first afternoon, after Kisara had been pulled from her sleep, she had gone downstairs and made herself useful. Without asking, she had done her best to clean and tidy and make herself useful. She had cleaned through lunch, knowing well that she had not yet earned her meal. Her horse had been worth a place to sleep, not board. It wasn't until late afternoon that she had been approached by one of the owners. The husband, with whom she had bartered when she had first arrived, approached her as the sun hung low in the sky and brought her a small sack of provisions.

Each morning thereafter, the young boy had come up to her room and the two had shared the meager meal that Kisara had earned that day. They spoke little, but Kisara enjoyed their short visits with each other all the same. Through broken language, Kisara had learned that the boy was foreign, from the south, and a orphan. He had been brought into Egypt with a slave caravan and purchased from the family Kisara now stayed with. He claimed he was very lucky. The family that had bought him was very kind. They let him sleep with the horses and had even gave him their leftovers when they had some to give. Such talk often gave Kisara chills, though she hid them from view. It was not difficult for her to imagine where she could have been under different circumstances. In truth, the boy was very lucky.

When Kisara awoke on the sixth day, however, the boy did not show up. She went about her chores like normal, but by the time the day had ended, there was still no sign of him. As night began to fall, Kisara worked up the courage to ask her temporary landlord about the young boy. She was met with little response and little concern from his owner. The boy had been sent out for a delivery and had not yet returned. Kisara was quickly dismissed to her room where she watched the sun set. The lower it got, the more she began to worry.

Eventually sleep took her, but only a few hours went by before she was jolted awake. In the dark lit only be a few stars out the far window, Kisara heard her door thump open and saw the outline of a small figure fall through the threshold. Amongst a mess of heavy breathing, Kisara pulled herself up from her bed and rushed over to where the young boy lay, nearly motionless on the floor. When she got to him, she lifted him up to sit him upright. He was hurt rather badly. The clothes he had worn every day since she had arrived were torn and tattered, wet with sweat and blood. Through a mixture of blood and tears, Kisara did her best to calm the boy down, but it proved to be difficult.

She couldn't understand him. After he'd caught his breath, she lifted him and up and out of the doorway and set him on her makeshift bed where she began to tear pieces of her own clothes apart to use as bandages. The boy just cried. He'd begun to shake. Kisara had successfully wrapped up several of his wounds, but there were a few that still hadn't stopped bleeding.

"Wait here.", she told him before rushing out of her room and down to where the boy's owners slept.

She awoke them gently, but firmly. It took the man a few moments to register her words, but when he did, he leapt out of bed and towards the storage room. The wife remained still and silent, sitting up in her bed. Kisara could not make out her expression in the darkness, but did not wait to see if she would follow. Instead, Kisara rushed after the husband, carefully watching her step in the house's dark rooms.

What she saw when she approached the storage room door was not what she had expected. Amidst a firestorm of cries and shouting in a language she did not understand, Kisara watched in horror as the man beat the young boy. The man screamed, infuriated, shaking bits of cloth that had lain hanging from the boy's clothes at him. The child never met his gaze, but instead pleaded through his choking tears as he slowly backed into a corner. When he is back hit the wall, the boy realized that he had no where else to go and sunk to the floor. But the blows did not cease. The man continued to hit him, over and over and over again. In the starlight, Kisara saw streams of blow and spit fly from the boy's mouth in between screams and gasps for air. She saw a tooth fall to the floor, followed by a blood clot from his mouth. The more the boy screamed, the harder the man hit.

Please. Stop it.

A few hits later, Kisara heard a loud crack. It had been the boy's nose, she realized as she watched more blood began to pour from his face. He gasped for air and then fell further into the floor, as if he was trying to melt into it. The man kept screaming, but the boy's screamed had died away. The boy's eyes were shut tight, swollen shut. All that could be heard from him was the sound of his breathing, becoming more faint by the moment.

Leave him alone. Please.

Despite this, the man continued. Kisara, frozen in the doorway, suddenly felt herself feel sick. Her stomach lurched and her head felt heavy. But, she did not move. Against the sound of the man's hand against raw flesh, she murmured.

"Stop it."

Silence fell over the room as her words escaped her. Kisara's eyes, empty to what they saw, held their gaze to the floor. For a moment, no one moved. Then she heard the shuffling of clothes and the sound of labored breathing.

He's still alive. Good.

Kisara still didn't look up. The room felt heavy and the atmosphere only grew thicker as she felt the presence of the man approach her. The only sound in the room was his calm breath and the boy's breathing, which sounded like a fish out of water. When the man was close, he paused and said nothing. He was waiting on something. He was waiting on her. In that instant, Kisara felt a fear that she had not felt since the day she had taken her horse and ran, the day she had single handedly murdered her entire caravan. She was not afraid of him or what he was about to do to her. She was not afraid for her life.

She was afraid for his.

For an instant, their eyes met. What she saw in him was the face of a murderer and she briefly wondered if he saw the same. Seconds later, his bloody hand met her cheek with all the pressure and force she had expected. For a moment, she thought she would stay awake through it, but then her head met the wall behind her. All that came after was darkness.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The weekend had flown by. When Sunday night finally arrived, Kisara was exhausted, though she wasn't quite sure why.

Friday had turned out surprisingly well, though it had been nothing like what the three friends had planned. For Kisara, most of the day was taken up tying up all the loose ends at her now old job at the grocery. When she'd arrived home that afternoon, for once without her bright green apron in tow, Kisara had spent the countdown until dinner getting ready and tidying up. She'd showered and dressed and even made an attempt to curl her hair, though that time was later considered wasted as the curls flopped back into their usual straight locks. Afterwards, she'd cleaned up her room as well as the kitchen knowing that, inevitably, she and Mana would end up there before the night's end. Shortly after that was done, Mana had arrived at her door, eager to get going. Moments later, the two were out the door. They took the train a few stops down to where the noodle house Kisara loved so much was awaiting them.

The girls had just sat down to a table and ordered their drinks when Kisara had gotten the call. Mahad wasn't coming. Apparently, something at work had come up that was simple unavoidable. He had been extremely apologetic, but Kisara had found it hard to hide the disappointment in her voice as she spoke with him. Hearing her tone had made him even more apologetic. He tried several times to explain but Kisara interrupted all of his attempts. She simply told him not to worry. They would celebrate another night.

Meanwhile, across from Kisara, Mana simply rolled her eyes and let her head rest in her hands, elbows on the table. When the phone call ended, it took a few moments before either of them said anything.

"So workaholic isn't gonna make it, hmm?", Mana questioned, already knowing the answer.

"I guess not.", Kisara replied, her voice quiet and matter-of-fact.

Mana looked her friend over for a moment. Though her face was mostly expressionless, Kisara's eyes said it all. Mana couldn't blame her friend. Of course she was disappointed. It had been so long since the three of them had gone out together, especially for a whole evening. The group had been restless since Wednesday. On top of that, Kisara was most certainly hurt by his inability to arrive. Mana could tell. Though she knew better, Kisara still couldn't shake the feeling that work had been more important than this, more important than her. As much as she knew her friend would try to rationalize it, Mana knew Kisara couldn't pretend to not take things personally forever.

"Ugh! This is just great! Now what do we do?", Mana exclaimed, slamming her fist and her napkin on the table.

Kisara knew the question was purely rhetorical. Mana clearly saw no point in ignoring the situation and attempting to piece the night back together. For Kisara, the evening just wouldn't be the same without Mahad. A moment later, Mana continued.

"Wanna just call it a night?", the girl asked, more gently this time.

"After we got all dressed up and took up a table? Nah, let's at least stay and eat.", Kisara replied, genuinely. Then she added, "We can get something for Mahad, to-go. If he's too busy to come to my dinner, I doubt he's got time to eat something on his own."

"He'd better not."

It took a few minutes, but after the excitement had passed, the two girls had a pleasant meal. They gossiped about Mana's school life, which seemed to mostly consist of crushes on boys and complaints about Mahad. Then, they began to dream up a whole array of exciting things that could happen to Kisara at her new job. Despite never having worked at a place like Kaiba Corp, Mana seemed to be incredibly knowledgable about the environment there. Kisara was impressed, until she'd discovered that most of said information had come from tabloids and online blogs that attempted to keep up with Kaiba brothers, their business included.

When the girls finally finished their meals, they headed back to Kisara's apartment, a nice boxed meal for Mahad in tow. As soon as they arrived, both girls hopped out of their dresses and into much cozier pajamas. Then, they sat down for a marathon of one of Mana's favorite crime dramas. A couple of hours later, Mahad arrived. As soon as she'd heard the lock click, Kisara had leapt up and gone to greet him.

"Hey there! I see they finally let you leave.", she told him teasing, a smile on her face.

Her dinner with Mana had been nice and the quiet evening in had done wonders for her disappointment. In fact, she had briefly wondered why they hadn't just stayed in to begin with. As soon as she'd said hello, Kisara headed for the refrigerator and pulled out the chilled box of noodles.

"We got you some to-go. We weren't sure how late you'd be, so I put them up, but they won't take long to heat. Here.", she told him, working to open the containers and prepare his dinner as she spoke.

"Woah, there! I can handle it.", he replied, taking the box and utensils from her hands and setting them on the table. "You really didn't have to get me anything, but thank you." He paused, taking a moment to meet her gaze. She didn't look disappointed. She just looked happy to see him.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it to dinner.", he added, as he began to place a portion of the boxed food into a bowl.

"It's alright! We'll go some other time", she told him kindly. "I'm just glad they didn't work you to death. When you said you couldn't make it, I was worried they'd keep you there all night!" She paused to wrap up the remainder of his food, as he headed towards the microwave. Then, she continued.

"So, what'd they keep you for anyways? If you don't mine me asking…"

"It's a…long story." Mahad began, pausing as he spoke. "I did finally meet with the curator. It looks like I'm going to be working with her on a private part of her collection, instead of the gallery pieces."

"Oh, really? That's great!", Kisara replied.

She hadn't see the look on Mahad face as he had spoke, blank and lost in thought. Her head had been in the refrigerator rearranging its contents. When he heard the door close, however, Mahad was pulled from his thoughts. He moved for his bag and dug through its contents until he pulled out a small gift bag and handed it to Kisara.

"This is for you, an apology…And a 'Thank You' for dinner.", he told her, watching her as she curiously looked from him to the bag and then back to him. He continued.

"You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a card shop that's open this late. I had to go half way across town when I left the museum to find one and, honestly, I'm not even sure they were open. I'm pretty sure the crazy old guy who sold them to me was in his pajamas. I think he just opened the door because I knocked so loudly…"

As his words trailed off, Kisara reached into the bag and pulled out two boxes duel monster's cards, both neatly wrapped in cellophane. She read the labels. They were starter decks. Mahad watched as a wide smile began to spread across her face.

"I figured since you'd be working for one of the best known duel monster's players in the world, it might come in handy to know a little bit about it."

"You're probably right." Kisara replied, laughter in her voice. "Thank you."

The rest of the night was filled with laughs, some yelling here and there, and duel monsters while Mana's favorite show played on in the background. Neither Kisara nor Mana had ever played and Mahad was only slightly familiar with the rules from where he had played when he was younger. The three took turns challenging each other, each one attempting to learn the rules and cards.

"What is THAT?", Mana exclaimed, pointing to a previous face-down card that Kisara had just revealed.

"It's some sort of bug, I guess. It says to…return the card that attacked it to its owner's hand.", Kisara replied, her head titled sideways to read the cards print.

"No, no, no. I meant, why would they even put that card in here? Look at it! It's disgusting!", she replied, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, but it's helping me beat you, so I can't complain!", Kisara replied, smirking to her friend across the table. Mana simply frowned in response.

As one illegal move turned overlapped with another, the evening passed quickly. Eventually, the rules were completely disregarded, much to Mahad's dismay. The cycle continued until the fury of the fight left both girls exhausted and Mahad extremely pleased with his purchase. It seemed the search had been well worth it. Perhaps he hadn't really missed anything, after all.

That night, everyone slept soundly and everyone slept in late. The three friends all had breakfast together before Mahad had gone out to stop by work and run some errands. The girls had remained in their pajamas all morning and had passed the afternoon with snacks, television, and video games. By the time Mahad returned home, Kisara had dinner waiting on the table, surprisingly untarnished by Mana, who left for her own place shortly after their dinner was done. The rest of the evening had just melted away.

When Sunday came, Kisara woke up early, though sleep still felt heavy in her eyes. After breakfast, she had dressed and gone out to look for some business attire. It had taken several hours, but she came back with enough clothes to last her the week without a repeat. She'd been much more successful than she'd expected. She spent the rest of the afternoon reading through her paperwork, making sure everything was signed and understood. She wasn't about to be caught off guard by anything this time. She'd read every word, twice. She was ready.

The evening was spent making dinner and packing lunch for the next day. She had even taken the time to pick out the perfect 'first day' outfit. Then, she'd gotten ready for bed. By the time Kisara's daily itinerary was complete, she was absolutely exhausted. A mixture of nerves and the day's adventures had made her eyes heavy. She flung herself into bed and curled up in her sheets. It only took a few minutes before Kisara drifted off, but the peaceful sleep she was used to hadn't lasted.

Please. Stop it.

Her mind was clouded with images of people and places she did not know. As she shifted in her sheets, uncomfortable, she felt hot and tired.

Leave him alone. Please.

She felt afraid.

"Stop it.", she said aloud.

Kisara was jolted from her sleep by the sound of her own voice. Breathing heavily, she sat up in bed, frantically looking around the room. She'd felt suddenly disoriented. It took a few moments, but, even in the dark, she recognized her room. Still, her heart was racing and her head hurt. She wiped away the small beads of sweat that sat on her hairline and, after another moment, she tossed her blankets aside and got up to head for the bathroom. In the dim, pale light from the wall lamp there, she checked herself over in the mirror. She met her own gaze and held it until her breathing had calmed and her heart felt back to normal.

What are you doing, Kisara? This is ridiculous.

A few moments later, Kisara began to dig through her medicine cabinet. She searched as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Mahad, until she found her sleeping pills. Though she hesitated momentarily, she decided to take a second dose. She couldn't do this tonight. She had work tomorrow, her first day no less. Afterwards, she used her hands to catch a sip of water from the faucet and then made her way back to her bed.

The rest of the night passed quickly, just like Kisara had wanted. When morning came, Kisara felt almost as though her late night scare had never happened. Almost. Except that her head still hurt.