Joey Wheeler yawns with one arm outstretched to rid himself of his nap's stiffness. One blurry-eyed squint at the clock by the couch states that gym class should be starting right about now.

No guilt sits in Joey as he misses a session with Mr. Buzz Cut Sunshine. The tall adolescent shrugs once he realizes that school is almost half way over. With sleep still wearing him down, Joey reaches for the tortilla chips that he was eating after Yugi ran off to school.

Well, after Ryo shoved him out the door.

As he grasps blindly for the bag, Joey's thoughts stretch back to the rough nights that Ryo has had. Those nights happen infrequently now, sometimes only once a week. But when Ryo does have them, Joey and Yugi, who both have taken up semi-permanent residence in Ryo's apartment, spend the rest of the night and day there, distracting Ryo from his experiences.

Joey's hand moves its search from the couch to the stand where those chips have to be.

This is the first time Ryo didn't want us around though.

The wispy boy's quiet insistence that Yugi does not ruin his education for Ryo's sake plays over again in Joey's mind.

Can't blame him for being worried about Yugi's grades, though. No one passes the exams just with some classmate's hasty notes.

Joey had been the compromise. One person had to stay with Ryo, so why not the one who's probably not heading to college anyways? Neither Ryo nor Yugi said that out loud of course, but the way that neither of them used Joey's school attendance in their disagreement says enough. Joey does not even bother shrugging at this, though. Their expectations are nothing new.

When the only object that Joey's hand finds for the fourth time is the clock on the stand, he actually looks in the direction of the tortilla chips. With a growl of his stomach and no sight of chips, Joey crouches to the floor searching for the snacks.

No chips under the table.

No chips behind the sofa.

No chips in the sofa.

No chips in his stomach.

With a groan, Joey heads towards the kitchen. There should be a new bag in there.

The blonde passes by Ryo's open bedroom door. One glance reveals that Ryo is…not sitting on his bed and reading or anywhere else in the room. Joey stops, steps into the room and onto plush carpet, and looks to the open and empty bathroom. He steps back out, walks the rest of the way to the kitchen, resists the urge to open the cabinets to heavenly food, and looks around the room. In the empty kitchen, the teen intakes a deep breath. Hunger and traces of tiredness forgotten, Joey turns, ready to head towards the front door until he notices two things. Ryo's shoes still sit on the wooden floor, and the door to the game room is ajar by a crack. It is usually never open at all.

As his feet carry him forward, Joey notices a faint tremble in his hand.

It's just a room, nothing more and nothing less. No big deal that Monster World took place there. No big deal at all.

Joey refuses to acknowledge that it takes him too long to push open the door.

The first sight that greets his eyes is the massive game board. From its place dominating the center of the room, it seems to reach for him. When Joey tears his gaze away from the behemoth, a flash of white over by the worktable at the far end of the room greets his vision. The white-haired boy has his back to Joey. Shoulders hunched and body leaning forward, the boy works on something hidden from sight. A pale hand darts to the side and grasps a small blue bottle before disappearing out of Joey's sight again.

See, there's Ryo, nice and safe in the creepy game room that he hasn't touched in weeks.

While the room's odd coldness creeps over him, Joey's eyes are drawn to the more gruesome monsters behind the cabinets' glass doors.

Yep, I'll just be getting some tortilla chips from the kitchen.

Joey does not leave the room. He cannot really. Ryo might have heard him enter, and what kind of friend would Joey be if he snuck out of the room like a coward? The blonde takes a deep breath, places one foot forward, and calls out.

"Hey, Ryo, what's up?"

The boy does not respond. Joey's smile wilts as the white-haired one continues to work. Silence rings as the pace of Ryo's fiddling increases, and Joey swears that he hears a soft scratching.

No biggie. He's probably too caught up in his work to pay attention.

Those tortilla chips call to Joey. They entice him into the safe confines of the ordinary kitchen. The Shadow Game veteran steps back with ears prickling from the new silence, for the scratching has stopped.

"Uh, Ryo, do you want anything from the kitchen?"

At the end of Joey's question, a faint sound drifts through the cold air. A soft whimper.

The coldness latches onto Joey's strong, quick steps. The chill does not come from the fear of Bakura's return. It comes from weeks of nightmares and too many close calls and-

Joey's hand is on Ryo's shoulder before the "Ryo, are you alright?" fully escapes his mouth. Beneath the hand, Ryo's shoulder tenses. Green eyes that appear almost yellow in the desk's lamplight look up. The edges of those eyes are sharpened in surprise. Pale fingers of one hand are tightened around the handle of a small knife. The other hand clutches something close to Ryo's chest.

It takes less than a second for Ryo to recognize Joey. Less than a second for the seated boy to turn his head so that the lamp's influence fades and so that yellowish green morphs back into pale green.

The knife drops with a clatter on the table. The hand does not move away from Ryo's chest.

"J-Joey. You startled me. When did you come in here?" The edges of green eyes soften.

Joey frowns in concern. "I was in here for a bit. Are you okay, Ryo? You didn't respond when I called out."

Ryo stares for a moment. "Sorry, Joey, I guess I didn't hear you." The boy looks down at the table. A small knife, a little paintbrush, and several other tools cast odd, dark shadows in the lamp's light. A few of the shadows glance some boxy object covered by a white sheet.

Joey does not follow Ryo's gaze.

"What were you doing over here?"

In response, the ghostly boy glances at his clutched hand. Slowly, he lifts the closed hand and opens it. Within his palm lays a small figurine.

"I was just fixing this."

Joey stares at it. He knows that figurine. Cut it in half himself in Monster World. The eyeball monster has not changed much. Purple tentacles reminiscent of Medusa's hair still surround a single bulbous eyeball. There are only two differences from the last encounter. Instead of staring out with petrifying malice, its eye is half-closed as if in pain. Also, it is no longer cut in half.

A small bead of sweat slides down the side of Joey's face. "Uh, why did you fix one of Bakura's freaky monsters?"

Ryo does not blink. Green eyes look from Joey to the figurine that lays in the paler one's palm. There is not even a hairline down its surface.

"This is my game piece. I carved it with my own hands long before my Other Half claimed it as his own, so it is mine to fix. Besides, it is not its fault that it was used by the Game Master in a Game of Shadows." Ryo's voice, which had been barely more than a whisper, climbs into a sharp, even tone. "It shouldn't have to be damaged and discarded because of the shortcomings of its creator. That would be like punishing a child for his parent's mistakes."

Ryo's downcast eyes are alight with some emotion that Joey cannot read. Joey's own silence rings in his ears, so he dredges up a response.

"Uh, if that's how you feel, Ryo, then…okay." Joey's next words are hastily made attempts to come up with something to keep the awkward silence at bay. "How did you fix and change it?" Pretty sure its eye was fully open before." Joey's stare glues to the figurine.

"It's complicated." Ryo does not look up at his friend.

Before Joey can come up with a response, a sharp knock from the front door draws Joey away from Ryo and into the hallway. His footsteps might be a little rushed as he puts distance between himself and the RPG room.

Nah, just don't want anyone to wait is all.

After Joey opens the front door, he really wishes he had taken a little longer in walking down the hall. Eyes made of hardened amethyst tear down any remnant of courage, and a shadowed figure with crossed arms taps his foot.

"Mr. Wheeler, not at school I see."

Joey resists the urge to step back. Instead, he rubs the back of his head and grins sheepishly. "Yep, Gramps, just spending the day with Ryo. Yugi's got it all set up at school, so it's fine."

Mr. Muto closes his eyes in thought. "Hmm. I see. So you're spending the whole day off with your other upcoming duelist friend."

Ryo peers around the RPG room's doorway.

"Yet," Mr. Muto continues with open, sharp eyes. "You did not think that instead of napping" Mr. Muto directs his glare at Joey's bedhead. "or other lollygagging, you could have called me and have been practicing your dueling skills."

A pause exists in too short of a space for Joey to unfreeze.

"Mr. Wheeler, I am disappointed in you. How can you expect to become a better duelist if you do not take every opportunity to increase your skills?" Mr. Muto steps forward, Joey stumbles back.

"But, Gramps, it's only one day off. We've been practicing for weeks and weeks without any break-"

"So you thought you could take this day off?" Mr. Muto's glare sharpens even more. "I'm sorry, Joseph, but there are no days off for a true gamer."

Joey's eep disappears under Ryo's words. "That's true. I spend every day at least thinking of strategies for Monster World, even if I'm not carving new figurines or building campaigns."

Mr. Muto nods. Joey looks back over his shoulder.

"Hey, a little support here would be nice, pal."

Ryo smiles. "But Mr. Muto has a good point."

Before Joey can respond, he feels a tight pressure wrap around his lower arm. With a jerk, Mr. Muto hauls the squirming duelist to the small table in the living room.

"Ack!"

Mr. Muto ignores Joey's protest. "Now we have a full day of instructions to fit into half a day." Amethyst eyes glance back. "I suggest you prepare yourself, Joseph, because these will be the most intense instructions that you have ever received in your life."

Ryo smiles faintly at Joey's tears of horror.


"Now, Joey," Mr. Muto's toughened stare magnifies upon Joey. "What are the six types of trap cards?"

Joey fidgets. "Okay, Normal, Counter, Equip, and…um…Continuing?"

"Continuous, Joey, but you were close. What are the other two?"

The idiot scrunches up his face as he tries to remember something that Muto told him ten minutes ago. "Ryo's" soft smile almost cracks again. The couch where Bakura sits has long since gone from tolerably comfortable to completely torturous. The school hours ended long ago, and now the rest of Bakura's evening stretches out endlessly before him like a wasteland. If it had just been Joey, Bakura could have found something flashy on TV so that the idiot would leave him to go back to the RPG Room. Instead, he is forced to sit on a stupidly soft couch while Muto and Joey stare at cards on the low table.

"They are called Trap Monster and Field Trap." Apparently, Solomon's patience remains endless as he calmly explains the differences between trap cards.

Bakura almost hisses when Joey nods. He cannot just shove Ryo into this since the boy still sleeps, and besides, there is something he needs to do before letting Landlord blunder his way through the rest of the day. On the kitchen table sits a jar of red powder that he should have taken care of hours ago. Now, it just waits for one of the mortals to grow hungry enough to go to the kitchen and find it.

How hard would it truly have been to stuff the damn thing back into the cabinet.

Bakura berates himself as he stops his eyes from darting to the hallway. He resists the urge to grip the fabric of the couch, choosing to swallow instead. This is not a nervous tic; he needs some excuse for the question he is about to ask.

"Mr. Muto, Joey, would you two like something to drink?" Bakura ensures that his tone remains soft, yet not too weak. The last thing he needs is for one of them to offer to go instead.

"Yeah, that would be great," Joey immediately responds without even looking his way.

Mr. Muto stays silent as he surveys "Ryo's" expression. Bakura works to keep a hint of hope in his eyes without grimacing. Ryo might have been unwell for all those weeks, but having his friends help with everything is making the boy feel so terrible. Cannot anyone see that?

And judging from the flicker of sympathy in Muto's eyes, the old man has picked up on "Ryo's" feelings.

"Some tea, or water, would be nice." Muto's face wrinkles into a smile, and his eyes twinkle.

But, the moment that Bakura stands, he knows that he has made a worse mistake than leaving the jar on the counter this morning. There is a reason why the couch has seemed so soft for the past half hour. The use of Shadow Magic earlier has exhausted him to the point that his eyes close over blurring vision. The next thing Bakura knows is Joey's hand gripping his arm and the looming teen using his arm to brace the swaying Bakura.

"I'm fine." Bakura forces those words out first to keep "Get your hands off me, mutt." trapped in his head.

"No, you're not." Joey's rapid-fire response is followed by a concerned frown that appears out of the corner of Bakura's eyes. "You almost face-planted."

"Help him back to the couch, Joseph." Muto's voice cuts through the haze that still plagues Bakura's conscious.

"No, I'm fine, really. I just have been sitting down too long, that's all." This pleading burns Bakura's throat, and it takes everything to not switch to threats instead. Yet, the urge to lie down remains too strong for threats of bodily injury to be either practical or wise.

"No buts, young man. I will go get the drinks." Muto's voice comes out stern, but the undercurrent of worry makes Bakura want to hiss. He is not weak; he does not need to be coddled. Even after the old man leaves the room, the urge to hiss does not dissipate.

"Do you need help sitting back down?" Joey's words intensify the urge.

No, the couch is right behind me, you nimrod. What do you think I am, a frail child?

"No, Joey, I can manage," Ryo says softly as bangs cover his eyes.

Joey releases Bakura's arm, yet he still hovers as the dark spirit sits down. The adolescent is close enough that Bakura could stab him in the knee without trying. It takes a long, tempting minute for Joey to move out of immediate range and back to his spot by the table. The idiot tries to start a few conversations, but Bakura hides irritation behind listless drowsiness.

When the footsteps of the old man finally echo back down the hall, Bakura eyes the hallway entrance with caution. He doubts that the Game Shop owner would recognize the red powder for what it is, but one can never be too sure.

As the old, hunched man walks back into the living room, Bakura watches with eyes forced into a softened mien. The wish that the old man would be oblivious to the true contents of the jar dashes upon a hardened amethyst gaze that the poofy-haired idiot somehow misses.

"Oh cool, you found more chips."

Bakura wants the shadows to wrap around Joey's throat and tear, but he settles for a weak smile that is meant to portray a worn out Ryo.

"Thank you, Mr. Muto, I haven't been feeling well as of late."

"Oh, it's no problem." Even as Muto hands the bag to Joey, the old man's eyes do not leave Bakura. "By the way, you had a few spices out, so I put them in one of the cabinets if you wish to reorganize them later."

Joey does not notice the frozen smile and icy green eyes of his "friend" behind him. "Really? What were they?" Joey crunches a chip in his mouth. "Ryo made some delicious salsa before that he wouldn't spill the secret ingredients of."

Mr. Muto watches for the quick strikes of a cornered snake. "I'm sure that your friend, Ryo, deserves to keep some secrets to himself." It is not a peace offering or permanent negotiation, but merely a call to a temporary truce until Joey is out of the picture.

Bakura who is not strong enough to fight off even two mortals- not after fixing Roku- morphs the smile into a thoughtful expression that deters any further questions from Joey.

Within minutes, Joey would have noticed the staring contest occurring over his head if not for the fact that he ends up snoozing against the wall that he had been sitting by. The quick onset of the idiot's nap is too unnatural to be anything but a stolen ingredient from Bakura's collection.

"It isn't proper to steal." Hair stays flat and voice is kept in Ryo's tone, but amber eyes focus on Mr. Muto.

"It isn't proper to use Shadow magic around guests." The old man wrinkles his nose as though he can smell it in the air. Bakura knows some people can, so that might not be a show.

"He's no guest of mine." Bakura places his palms on his knees to hide the tremble of fatigue in his hands. From the sharpening of Mr. Muto's eyes though, Bakura quickly knows the futility of the gesture. "However, he is a guest of Ryo's, so I won't use Shadow magic on him."

From his spot by the table with the arrayed Duel Monsters cards, Mr. Muto crosses his arms and stares with a penetrating amethyst glare. "That's not the reason."

No, that is not the reason. Bakura is still weakened from his game with the Pharaoh and his pack of friends. However, thoughts of the Pharaoh and the humiliation of loosing to him make Bakura tighten his grip and deepen his voice.

"Don't test me, mortal." The words scratch at the ears. "You may know about the Shadows, but don't presume that you can take on an owner of a Millennium Item."

Mr. Muto exhales with harshness. "I am not testing you. Judging from your pallor and aura, I doubt that you even have the energy to deal with an amateur such as myself, let alone my angry grandson." Those eyes are piercing. "Besides, I have not come here to fight. I merely came here to ask a few questions and to give a friendly warning."

One eyebrow raises at the word warning, but Mr. Muto does not elaborate.

"I always wondered why Dr. Bakura stopped visiting his own museum. I suspected that someone had to have taken over, but I couldn't think of who would pretend to be him." The Game Shop owner's tone is light in mood yet carries the weight of more sentences, but Bakura cuts in.

"Was he a friend?" A dark undercurrent surges through the question. Even if Bakura descended into a coma, enough darkness could be dredged up to deal with a family friend.

Mr. Muto's eyes soften instead of hardening more. "Dr. Bakura, yes. The demon that devoured him almost a decade ago, no." The eyes have a sorrow to them, but that disappears as the man continues. "I suppose I have you to thank for making the museum safe enough to take my grandson to for these past few years." The old man does not say any apologies or inquiries about Bakura's family. Whether that's out of courtesy or the touch of madness in amber eyes stays out of Bakura's reach.

"You mentioned a warning." The tone cuts through the formation of any more pleasantries.

The stony hardness of before returns to Mr. Muto's gaze and his frown deepens. "Yes, I did. Simply put, even if you might be a piece of Ryo, don't expect tolerance if you harm those under my care."

The threat against himself and his lighter half should anger Bakura, but the old man left too much of an opening in that wannabe threat. "You mean that I should behave just as much as your grandson does." The light tone in Ryo's voice causes suspicion to creep into Mr. Muto's eyes. The man twitches when Bakura stands.

"So, if someone takes my spot in a school event, I can light them on fire or, if they happen to steal a meaningless game, I can rip out their heart?" Ryo's smile can be very useful for instances like these. It helps to hold back the laughter.

The dark look that passes by Mr. Muto's face would have been more threatening if there was not that flash of shame that it squashed out. "My grandson's other half is young and is gaining more control of himself as time passes. You are old enough to know better."

At those words, Bakura picks up half empty bags and a few cups and then walks to the hallway. "Even so," He stops at the hallway entrance and glances back. "I did not have that high of a body count in my first months. Of course, Mother was a bit more watchful than more lacking parents." For a second, Bakura cannot decide whether or not he should add anything, but that last dig stings in the same way a Monster World super critical does.

"Even if they are inexperienced children," The Ring Spirit pauses in the doorway at Mr. Muto's words. "At least Yugi has his friends to reign him in."