Diane was practically shaking with rage when she strode back into Yugi's room. She picked up the puzzle, and scraping out the extra chain she'd placed aside for her own Item, placed the puzzle on the chain, fastening it about the boy's neck.  A bright light surrounded him, and a larger, older form overshadowed him, the narrower eyes, reddish-violet, opening with a pained gasp.

"What has happened here? The last thing I remember is the puzzle being yanked from my Aibou's neck."

Diane, having never had an encounter with the guardian of her own Item, felt her eyes widen in shock. "Who are you? WHAT are you?"

The boy, who appeared to be perhaps 16, looked to the ankh hanging from her neck. "You hold a Millennium Item, and know not who I am?"

Then, she remembered the stories of Yugi's duels, how another always seemed to take his form during the most critical moments, and whispered, "You are the one who dueled for him against Kaiba and Pegasus."

The boy nodded, smiling in something like approval. "You have intelligence and a shrewd wit, Ma'am. Yes, I am he. You may call me Yami, for I am the darkness and shadows to Yugi's light."

Diane bowed her head. "I tried to get a better home for Yugi. . .and I failed. The judge sent him back to his parents."

Yami, despite himself, found his hand lifting her chin and his own reddish-purple eyes staring into those sad blue ones. "You did everything you could. . .now you let me take care of this."

She did not ask what he had planned, for she already knew. The stories of how some of Yugi's adversaries had been traumatized and in some cases killed were widely known in Duelist circles. And though she was a poor duelist at best, she did keep her ears open, always beating the chaff of the gossip away to find that kernel of truth within. Yugi, being not much older than her own oldest child, was the duelist whose career she had followed most closely.

Then, she had an idea. "Yami, wasn't Takada a duelist once?"

Yami nodded. "In fact, I think that is where some of his problems with Yugi stem from. Yugi has become more skilled even at ten than Takada could ever HOPE to be, even at the height of his talent."

"Could you. . .teach me, then, Yami? Teach me what you know, and I will challenge Takada to one last duel. If he wins, I will let you do as you wish, telling him Yugi is the prize. If I win, Yugi goes to his Grandfather, no further argument. Both achieve the desired result, only my way creates fewer questions and future problems for Yugi."

Yami peered out the window thoughtfully. Outside, the first winter snow had begun falling; reminding him again how close it was to Christmas, and making him think of how wonderful a gift Yugi's freedom would be to him. Then, he turned to the woman who stood silently next to him, and nodded. "Agreed."

Diane returned home to find her two children waiting up for her, Angela's deep-set blue eyes sparking in what appeared to be more than a slight bit of annoyance.

"Mom," the red-haired child crossed her arms, stretching to take advantage of every inch of her more-than-average height, "you were supposed to have been home two hours ago. Marsha crashed out on the couch."

Diane peered over at the 16 year old babysitter, and then turned back to her 9-year-old daughter, speaking in a soothing tone. "You won't be so upset when I tell you who I treated tonight."

Angela and Aaron both gave her a look of piqued interest. They were both rather good Duelists themselves, and knew their mother followed the careers of their competition closely. "Well, Mom," Aaron piped up, "are you gonna tell us, or are we gonna hafta guess?"

Diane smiled outrageously, then answered "Yugi Mouto."

Both gasped in amazement. Yugi was near-legend in dueling circles, and the two could not have been more astounded if their mother had told them she had met Jesus Christ himself.

"Can you take us to meet him? Please, Mom?" Angela gave Diane the most pitifully puppy-dog look the widowed mother had ever seen.

Diane nodded, "Tomorrow evening. But you need to be very gentle with him, understood? He was really injured badly, and is still quite weak."

Aaron ran his hands through his almost white-blond, close-cropped hair and nodded. "We promise, Mom, don't we, sis?"

Angela nodded to her 7-year-old brother, "You bet we do."

The next evening came quickly, and Diane grinned as her son and daughter jabbered in the back seat during the trip to see their idol. She was on one of her rare off-call nights, and she planned to simply enjoy this time with her children.