Satsuki's fingers burned where they clutched the thin paper cup holding her cappuccino, though she barely noticed the sting as she listened to Yugi tell his tall tale. He spoke softly about how the Millennium Items had been created with blood magic over three thousand years ago, and how several of them had gone on to harbor the souls of ancient beings from that time — pharaohs and priests and evil demigods. While he spoke, her eyes drifted over the low wall of the museum coffee shop, watching as the five Millennium Items drifted lazily in the sunlight.

Ridiculous, she thought. Absolutely absurd; that these artifacts might have the power to contain the spirits of dead people, and bring them forth into the present day like mystical time capsules. But when Yugi confessed that he shared his own soul with one such forgotten pharaoh, Satsuki jolted and turned back to him. Her heart raced, remembering his heavy touch and veiled gaze during their night spent together. She couldn't tell which was stranger: that she had noticed such a subtle change while drunk and drowning in desire, or the fact that the eyes looking back at her now were infinitely warmer.

Slowly, Yugi looked down and cradled his Puzzle against his chest. "His name is Atem." The confession came out soft; slow; honest. "He's been with me for over five years. Both of us together — two souls in one body."

Satsuki lifted her head, a breath catching in her throat.

"I think you're like me, too, Satsu," he went on, looking up. "I think your soul has a visitor. Another you." He paused, tilting his head to catch her eyes before they drifted away again. "She can't cross over. Not like Atem can. But he can sense her. Speak with her between worlds. She was a queen once—"

Her trapped breath came rushing out in a stuttering laugh. There was no mirth in it, and no smile on her face either; just utter disbelief. "This is crazy," she said aloud, mostly for her own sake. "Another me …?" The words set her teeth on edge. "I'm sorry, Yugi, but you're sitting here telling me that I somehow share my soul with … with an Egyptian queen — and you expect me to just take your word for it?"

"I don't think I have to," he said simply. "I think you already feel her."

At this, a sudden fire lashed in her heart, and she remembered — that voice, those words … the inescapable force that had been pushing her toward Yugi since the day she'd met him.

"I'm sorry," he said abruptly. "This is probably a lot to take in. I promise we're not telling you this to scare you, but we felt it was only fair that you should know—"

"We?" she repeated, her voice thinned to a near whisper. A tense silence settled between them, and Satsuki half-expected to hear that bold voice in her head once more — but the only sound that echoed in her mind was the heavy thump of her heart. "Which one of you was it … that night?"

More silence. But Yugi was beginning to lose hold of his emotions now, a subtle shame creeping into his features. He closed a hand around the tapered base of the Puzzle — a reflexive motion that seemed the perfect practice of muscle memory.

"Do you want to speak with him?" he whispered.

All she could manage to do was to stare — not at him, but at the heavy pendant around his neck. Her thoughts were suddenly empty, tipped over like a spilled glass, and what she remembered now was his voice; whispering that name — the one that was hers, but wasn't.

"Satsuki."

She looked up, meeting fathomless eyes this time. Gone was the shine of youth; the good-natured cheer. The burden of millennia bore down visibly on him, sharpening him to rigid planes and rough-hewn edges, like the statues she had passed in the hall just beyond.

Then a breath lifted his shoulders, bringing him to life. "I—"

Satsuki flew out of her seat. "I'm sorry," she said, scooping up her coat and bag. "I-I just … I can't—" Exhaling sharply, she ducked her head and made for the exit. "I have to go."

Mercifully, he didn't call out for her. She didn't know what she would have done if he had; couldn't even be sure if the voice in her head would have let her walk away. She strode headlong back through the museum, passing era after era in a cloud of heated breaths. By the time she reached the street she was almost running, glancing over her shoulder every few steps as if she feared a ghost were stalking her. But her head continued to ring empty as she stumbled onto the metro and lowered herself, heaving, into an open seat.

She rode the speeding train in a trance, watching as the city of Domino blurred by. She barely even noticed when she missed her stop. Soon, the metro looped back through downtown before skimming alongside the port district, where the sinking sun painted orange streaks across the bay. Satsuki closed her eyes against the bright glare and lifted a hand to her heart, finding that it beat slowly and evenly despite the panic she'd felt fleeing the museum. She wasn't sure why, but this feeling brought comfort to her — as if the fire that had been prickling her skin for days had turned instead to a warm, cozy blanket. Was this that presence too, she wondered? The visitor? Her … other self?

Against all logic and reason, she turned her thoughts inward. 'Hello?' she called, into the depths of her mind. 'Can you hear me?'

Nothing returned but the echo of her own voice.

'Who are you?'

More silence.

Drained, and sure she was sinking into some sort of psychosis, Satsuki pulled her knees up to her chest and lowered her head down into her arms. Scoffing, she whispered aloud, "Who am I?"

Just then, the warmth grew deeper, like a pair of arms had been draped around her shoulders. She snapped her head up, casting her eyes down the length of the subway car, but there was no one within four rows of her.

The warm embrace remained for only a fleeting moment more, until the train began to slow to the uptown stop for the second time. When the doors parted, a bitter winter wind came rushing in.

Yugi lay on the couch in the office break area, one leg swinging nervously off to the side while he stared at the ceiling. He'd already counted every bubble and dimple in the tile directly above his head, so he moved on to an adjacent one, tallying the blemishes precisely in time with the beat of the lo-fi track Jounouchi had put on for ambiance. His friends were currently clustered at Jou's desk pretending to be working — but Yugi knew they were really conspiring ways to cheer him up after the botched intervention with Satsu at the museum earlier that day.

He got about halfway through cataloging the second tile when Jou finally approached and kicked Yugi's foot. "Man, you gotta stop moping. Why don't you get yourself a beer, fire up the Switch, and we'll play a round of Super Smash?"

Yugi drew an arm up under his head. "Sorry, Jou. I'm just not really feeling it."

Jounouchi scoffed and grabbed Yugi's elevated leg, throwing it off the couch so he could sit. "It's not the end of the world, man. I mean, it wasn't like she said it was over, right?"

"To be fair, she didn't really say anything," Yugi sighed. "I dunno. I guess I just feel bad about how everything went down."

"Yeah, but you can't really blame her. It's a lot for anyone to take in all at once like that." Jou barked a laugh. "'Hey babe, I've got two souls living in my body. Hope that's alright.'"

Yugi forced out a chuckle of his own, but he knew Jou was only joking because he didn't have the whole picture. Though Yugi had been goaded into telling his friends about the night he'd spent with Satsu, Atem had made him promise not to reveal the whole truth behind her ties to him until after they'd spoken to her first. Now that they had — with disastrous results — Yugi was left at a loss of what to do; Atem had retreated to his soul room as soon as they'd left the museum, and he hadn't come out since.

Yugi heaved another deep sigh. "I just … wish I could go back in time and do it right, you know?"

Jou gave a respectable pause before he sniffed loudly and stood. "Yeah, well, let me know when you figure that one out."

Yugi flashed a tortured smile and slung his feet back up on the couch. As Jou turned toward his desk, a loud knock caused them both to stiffen up and look at one another. Yugi's pulse raced, his mind immediately jumping to Satsu. But there was no way it could be her, he thought. It was too soon. When another knock came, rougher this time, he surged upright. His friends were all staring at him now, their minds obviously a half-step behind his.

Another impatient knock had Yugi swallowing hard. He called out, "coming," then rose and trotted to the door. When he threw it open, his jaw nearly hit the floor.

The president of KaibaCorp stood rigid on the doorstep, looking obstinate as ever. He barely gave Yugi a fleeting glance before pushing inside the office, casting his gaze around in veiled disgust.

"Kaiba?" Yugi called, closing the door to follow him. "What are you doing here?!"

Kaiba ignored the question, returning the stunned looks of Jou, Honda, and Otogi for only the briefest moment before he zeroed in on his target: the hologram projector at the back of the office. He strode over to it and picked up the controller as if it were a piece of rotting meat. "So this is it, huh?" he said, turning it over in his hands. "Looks like you idiots put it together with duct tape and spit."

Suddenly, Jounouchi rushed over to Kaiba and grabbed him by the back of his long coat. "Hey! Put it down!"

Kaiba spun on Jounouchi so swiftly it threw him off balance. "Touch me again, deadbeat, and I'll sue the clothes off your back."

Yugi tensed. Horrified as he was to see Kaiba showing up unannounced, it also presence ignited a flare of morbid curiosity in his stomach. "It's fine, Jou. Let him go."

Jounouchi balled up his fists, but obeyed and backed away, allowing Kaiba to continue inspecting the device.

"What do you want, Kaiba?" Yugi demanded, hurrying over to stand with his friends.

Infuriatingly, Kaiba responded with only more silence. A moment later he'd found the power button and turned on the projector. He navigated the inscrutable interfaces of the RPG as if he'd designed them himself, locating the character gallery in only a few keystrokes. There, he cycled through the character models, never stopping to look at one for more than half a second. Finally, after he'd seen well over a dozen of them, he turned his cold stare to Yugi.

"Where is he?"

Yugi straightened up and glared back. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Kaiba spat. "The Pharaoh. Or Atem — or whatever it is you call him these days. Where is his character model?" He sneered at each of them, then shook the controller tauntingly. "That's what you losers are doing, aren't you? Cataloging his life in VR?"

A sharp lurch twisted in Yugi's heart, precipitating Atem's arrival a moment later. Yugi turned, seeing a fearful look in the eyes of his other self.

'Tell him to leave,' Atem whispered between their minds. 'He's not welcome here.'

"From the looks of it, you're doing a shit job." Kaiba selected one of the character models — the Sacred Guardian Isis — and ran her through a calibration protocol. The model struck a collection of pre-configured poses and facial expressions before freezing in a scowl with her arms crossed. "This is it? This is how you're planning to memorialize his legacy?"

'Partner.'

Puzzled, Yugi looked at Atem, but his attention was tugged back when Kaiba scoffed.

"Absolutely pathetic," he spat. "I should have known you morons would do a half-assed job. You work slower than molasses, too." He threw the controller carelessly back onto the shelf. "At this rate, he'll be old and grey by the time he returns to the afterlife."

The words didn't register right away. Instead of shock or dismay, what Yugi felt clearly was Atem's pure, unfiltered fear. It burrowed like a parasite into their shared heart, searching to smother that seed of doubt that had been sown between them five years ago.

'Don't listen to him—'

"I knew I shouldn't have let it go on this long," Kaiba continued, sauntering closer and flicking his eyes between the four of them. "I figured it was the generous thing to do. Let you play around for a while. Humor yourselves. But this is getting ridiculous. I guess it's true what they say — if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself." He slid his hand behind the lapel of his coat, retrieving a checkbook and pen. "Alright, Yugi. Name your price."

A tremor ricocheted down Yugi's spine as Kaiba's words finally caught up with him. "Afterlife…?" he breathed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Just then, an uncharacteristic light flickered in Kaiba's eyes. But he narrowed them quickly, his lips turning up with a smug smirk. "So he didn't tell you." He closed his eyes and slid the checkbook back inside his jacket. "That's cold, Atem. Even for you."

Yugi snapped his head to his other self, only to find Atem's gaze downturned. Shame had hooked its claws into him, holding him in a quivering grasp.

'What is he saying?' Even in his mind, Yugi's voice lashed with anger; but his other self registered no response. 'Look at me, Atem.'

Veiled eyes lifted — two deep pits filled with centuries of regret.

'Is he telling the truth?'

Unaware of the conversation happening between their linked minds, Kaiba went on. "I tried to send him off myself, you know. Five years ago in Egypt. But he chose to be a coward—"

'He's wrong — that's not the whole story—'

"I guess he thought he was doing you a favor by hiding it from you. I never thought he'd make it this long without telling you, though. This really is a new low for him."

'Don't believe a word he says.'

Yugi flinched. 'Stop!'

Jou laid a hand on his shoulder. "You alright, bud?"

"No wonder Satsuki was having such a hard time getting anything out of you. You're completely oblivious—"

"Satsu?"

"Knock it off, Kaiba!"

'Listen to me—'

"SHUT UP!" Yugi fell back a step and threw his arms up. "All of you just shut up!"

Ragged breaths raked through his lungs, one hand surging up to clutch reflexively around the chain of the Puzzle. When he lifted his head, his eyes fell blurry and burning on his other self. But he saw nothing of himself in Atem now. He could have been a complete stranger, and Yugi would have been none the wiser.

'Partner…'

Gritting his teeth, he gripped his chain in both hands, lifted the Puzzle over his head, closed his fingers around the eye carved on the centermost piece, sucked in a sobbing breath and—

'Partner, don't—'

He pulled.

A sound like a gunshot filled his head, followed by a sharp stab in his core. After the pain subsided, it felt like his soul had been sucked out of him and thrown carelessly into a black hole, sent off to drift somewhere between the stars. He opened his eyes, met with four shocked gazes instead of five.

"Yugi …"

Jounouchi stepped forward, but Yugi backpedaled, pivoting to throw the husk of the Puzzle on the couch behind him. Choking on hitched breaths, he lowered his head and made for the side door. He threw it open, grabbing a coat off the hook before striding blindly into the grey-tinged streets. The cold gnawed numbly at his skin, but the only thing he could feel was the pain of the puzzle piece clenched like broken glass in his palm.

…

Just before sundown, it began to snow.

It was Domino's first of the season, and after nearly a week of frigid temperatures, the flakes came down light and fluffy, creating a delicate coating on the ground that crunched underfoot. The subtle sounds helped to calm Yugi's nerves as he meandered through a particularly quiet part of town, his route carrying him alongside one of the many narrow drainage canals that crisscrossed the city. Snowflakes drifted down beside him in spiraling arcs, only to dissolve into nothingness as soon as they touched the water's surface.

After what seemed like hours of aimless walking, Yugi finally slowed down when he began to recognize his surroundings. Ahead, a wide green gate between a row of hedges led the way into a schoolyard. He made his way over to it, peering between the slats of the gate to get a glimpse of his alma mater, Domino High School. With a bittersweet smile, he looked at the entryway, flanked by brick and sporting a huge clock hung above. It seemed like just yesterday that he, Anzu, Honda, Otogi, and Ryou had all stood clustered below it, waiting to see if Jounouchi would make it through the gate before the minute hand reached the top.

He'd met nearly all of his closest friends at Domino High, and had stirred some of his deepest rivalries within its walls as well. Thinking back on it, he'd even completed the Puzzle on school grounds — an event which would go on to shape his life in ways he never could have imagined. Even now, he almost couldn't bear to recall the time before he and Atem had been tethered together. A time marred by constant bullying, loneliness, and social isolation. After Atem arrived, he became like a beacon, drawing people into Yugi's orbit with courage, cleverness, and infectious pride. Yugi thought he'd begun to absorb those traits himself over the years, but all of a sudden, he was left feeling like a used rag; like an empty shell into which Atem had poured himself, concealing ugly truths behind a bold facade.

With a sigh, Yugi turned and crossed the street, lowering himself onto the bus stop bench facing the canal. He dusted snow from the shoulders of his coat, then slipped his hands into the pockets. He jolted when he felt the ridges of the puzzle piece resting against the satin lining of his coat. Fighting anger again, he drew it out and opened his palm to look down at the shimmering gold. Even now, it was warm to the touch — a tiny ember broken off, smoldering stubbornly in the frigid cold.

For a moment, he wondered what it would take to snuff out Atem's warmth completely. Wondered what would happen if he were to smash the Puzzle into pieces and stash it high on a shelf, leaving it to collect dust until some distant relative stumbled upon it. If someone were to assemble it once more, would Atem return to grace that person with his wit and charm? Or would he choose isolation, exiling himself to wander the expanse of his own soul for all eternity?

The soft crunch of footsteps purged these unwelcome thoughts from Yugi's mind. He closed his hand around the piece and shoved it back in his pocket, looking up to see a head of snow-dusted blonde hair standing over his shoulder. Jou sniffed and smiled, looking up at the gentle rise of the residential district on the other side of the canal.

"That was the piece I stole, wasn't it?" he said, his voice muted by the snowy blanket surrounding them. "I chucked it into the canal right over there, if I remember."

Yugi looked down at his lap. He'd almost forgotten how contentious his relationship with Jounouchi had been before he'd solved the Puzzle.

"Man, I was a dick back then," Jou went on. "Could you imagine if we'd gotten a storm that night? That piece would have been history."

Yugi muttered an ambivalent agreement, but he continued to avoid Jou's eyes, even as he came around to sit on the bench beside him.

"But no matter how much of a dick I was, I'll never be a Kaiba-tier dick. I can't believe he had Satsuki spying on us like that. That guy really has it out for Atem, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, well, maybe he has a good reason to."

Jou scoffed. "Man, are you listening to yourself? You're acting like Atem is the one at fault here."

"He lied to me, Jou," Yugi shot back. "And not just a little white lie. A big one. A five-year-long lie."

Jou sighed, his breath turning into a cloud of mist that floated out over the canal. "Yugi, sometimes I think you forget that Atem's not just another part of you anymore. He's his own person. And that means he gets to make his own decisions sometimes. I think it's only natural he'd want to keep some of those decisions to himself over the years."

"But this doesn't just concern him," Yugi said, his voice straining with anger again. "He has people waiting for him in the afterlife. Friends. Family. Loved ones … He has a wife, Jou."

At this, Jounouchi looked truly taken aback. But he blinked it away, turning to face the city again. "The afterlife, huh…? Sounds pretty cushy." He paused, picking at a piece of fuzz on his coat. "But you know, Yugi … Despite all that, I still think Atem would have wanted to stay with you for the rest of your life if he'd had his way."

Yugi looked sharply at Jou, finding his brown eyes filled with warm and unconditional honesty.

"I don't claim to know much about what happens after we croak, but I'm pretty sure the afterlife is, by definition, a permanent condition." Jou grinned and screwed up his face in that way he always did when he was trying to make light of something serious. "Now what Atem has with us? Sure, it's temporary. But that's life, man. That's what it's all about."

A cold breeze lashed across Yugi's face, making him suddenly aware of the tears welling in his eyes. Jounouchi looked away and continued fiddling with the hem of his coat, pretending not to notice.

"My old man used to say, 'we don't get no second chances in life.' But Atem did. And he loved it so much he was willing to put off eternal happiness to spend it with us. If that doesn't say something about the guy … Well then, damn. I don't know what will."

Tears were streaming hot down Yugi's face now, and he noticed his fingers had closed tight and trembling around the puzzle piece again. It burned with a fierceness he'd never felt before, as if it were trying to brand his skin with a mark that would never fade. Instead, it scorched him with guilt, thinking how long he'd spent in denial of Atem's personhood, and how inhumane it had been to banish him to the confines of his soul the way he had.

Just then, he felt a weight on the back of his hand through the fabric of his coat. He looked up to see Jou peering at him with a rare stern stare. "Don't leave it this way with him, man. I think you need to just … ask him what he really wants."

Yugi swallowed down his sorrow, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "How do I know he won't lie?"

Jou puffed out an exaggerated sigh, then rocked up to his feet. After sparing a glance over his shoulder at their old school, he looked down at Yugi and grinned. "Would you?"

Without another word, he turned and started back down the street, his form dissipating in a flurry of white.