Chapter 5

"One fine morning…"

The next day was Saturday, and Joey was out and about early that morning. Down-town Domino City had been all decked out for the coming holiday season since early November, so the lights and tinsel no longer caught his eye. He was also no longer fascinated by the fact that he could see his breath in front of him – a small wonder that had amused him greatly when he was younger. He could remember back to elementary school, when he and Tristan used to swear they could make shapes out of the mini-clouds and try to impress the girls in their class with their tricks. It never really worked, but it had been fun.

Joey sighed inwardly. Things were sure different from when they'd been kids. Not always worse, but always different. He rounded a corner and his nostalgic thoughts faded away. In front of him was a large studio, built of white stone and silver metal, and a finely-detailed logo along-side the front doors. He pulled a visitor's pass out of his jacket pocket and slid it at the key-pad. The glass doors slid open and he stepped inside.

At the front desk, the female receptionist waved to him, "She's up on level four, Mr. Wheeler."

"Thanks," Joey nodded to the woman, and then boarded the elevator. He pulled the scarf off from around his neck and shoved it in his pocket, unzipping his jacket with his other hand. The elevator door slid slowly open and he stepped out into level four – where it was snowing.

Or at least fake-snowing. Joey stepped out of the elevator into a large open room with the back half built up to look like a perfect snowy-hill complete with pine-trees and blue-sky backdrop. Men in black t-shirts and pants were hurrying around everywhere, adjusting cameras and operating the snow-blower. In the center of the set-up, a group of young women were huddled together, all dressed in the latest winter outdoor fashions. And in the middle of the group, was the one girl Joey had come to see.

"Mai!" he called out.

The whole group turned, and the instant they spotted him, they started giggling. Mai Valentine gave a few of them playful punches and then jogged over to Joey, who caught her in his arms. "Hey, Joey," she said, planting a quick kiss on his lips, "Glad you decided to come."

"You kiddin'?" Joey asked her, "No way I'd pass up a chance to be wit' you."

Mai grinned, "Always such a charmer."

"Hey, Mai! Get back over here," a voice called out. A man in his mid-thirties was waving her back over towards the group of girls. "We need you now, angel."

"Coming James," she told him, then whispered to Joey, "I'm glad you came," before going back over to the set.

Joey smiled. There was never anything for him to do at Mai's photo shoots, but it gave him excuse to just stand around and watch her, which made everything worth it. One of the camera men offered him a folding chair and he sat down, hanging his jacket on the back, and settling in for a nice show.

For over an hour, Mai and the other girls posed for the cameras. Sometimes by themselves, sometimes in pairs or trios. At one point, a group of little girls, no more than five or six, were brought in. Each woman was paired with a girl and photographed in adorable mother/daughteresque poses.

Joey couldn't help but notice how well Mai got on with the girl she'd been paired with. He watched as the two of them were given a puppy for one shot and both of their faces lit up in the same way. 'She'd make a great mom…' he thought, and then blushed, wondering if it might be his kids she'd be a great mother to.

The puppy caused some problems, however, as the little girl couldn't keep hold of it. It squeezed out of her arms and bounded off of the set. Joey laughed as the camera men tried to catch it, then as it came past him, reached out a hand and grabbed it by the collar. "You guys lose somethin'?" he asked, nonchalantly, holding it up.

The little girl came running over. "Sorry," she said shyly, as he gave her back the animal, "He's wriggly…"

Mai laughed as she came up behind the girl, "Yeah, they tend to be that way. Thanks, Joey. There's no telling how many cameras he might've broken."

"Anything for a lady," he said, patting the child's blonde head.

"Hold it!" James cried, striding over to them, "Hold it right there! This is perfect!"

"Eh?" Joey said, "What's perfect?"

"What're you talking about, James?" Mai asked.

"I told you about this, Mai," the man said, "Earlier this morning our father-model called out – your beau here can fill in. If he's up for it."

"What??" Joey cried, "Model?? Me??"

"Sure," Mai said, beaming at him, "You'll be fine – I promise."

The blonde-haired teen looked from her, to the director, to the little girl, and shrugged. "Why not?" A small cheer was heard from the other cameramen. "Just show me what to do."

Within seconds, a group of women (also all dressed in black) herded him off to wardrobe and make-up. There, he was measured for sizes, then stuck in a barber's chair while the women fussed with his hair, and put power on his face. When they reached for more make-up, he had to interject. "Hold up, ladies. Is that really necessary?"

One of them nodded, "Otherwise the glare from the spot-lights will make you look dead," she explained.

Joey decided that wearing make-up was better than looking like a zombie in something that might end up somewhere in public, so he opted to let the women do their job. Finally, he was suited up in an outfit that wasn't quite his taste, but he had to admit, it made him look damn good. Mai came in as he was standing in front of a huge mirror and whistled. "Not bad…not bad at all," she said approvingly.

"Thanks," he said, blushing, "Now what?"

"I'll show you. Come on," she took him by the hand and led him back out onto the set. The little girl, who was finally introduced to him as Lucy, was waiting for them, the only one of the girls still left. "The others got finished and left with their parents already," Mai explained.

"Sorry," Joey said, "Is it 'cuz of me she has to stay?"

"I don't think she minds," Mai said, smiling as the little girl played with the puppy.

"Okay people, let's go!" James called, coming onto the set, "Lucy's only got twenty more minutes that she can work, so let's get this done."

The first shot was just of Joey and Lucy, where he held the little girl on his shoulders. Then he swung her upside-down by her legs and she burst into a fit of giggles that James absolutely loved. Mai was brought in next, and it was her turn to hold the child up to put a star on one of the fake pines. The final shot was one of the three of them together, with Lucy being held up by both of them together, just smiling at the camera.

"Excellent!" James cried after the last flash had dimmed, "That's a wrap, folks. Let's clean up and get this stuff over to developing."

As Lucy ran off to meet her parents, Mai took Joey by the hand. "You're really good with kids," she said.

"Yeah?" he asked, putting one hand behind his head, "Guess it's 'cuz I'm still a kid too, eh?"

"I wouldn't say that," Mai assured him, "Let's go get changed. I'll treat you to breakfast for being a good sport."

"I'll go for that," Joey said eagerly, and fifteen minutes later they left the studio, arm in arm.

* * *

"Put it away."

"What?" Bakura looked up from where he was lying on his bed, holding the note from Athena once again.

"I said 'put it away'," Barak repeated, turning around to glare at his counterpart. He had stopped shuffling through Bakura's dueling deck and spoke with rising irritation in his voice, "Every time I turn my back you have that thing out. It's a waste of time!"

"Why do you say that?" Bakura asked, looking hurt.

"Because you haven't spoken to that Greek in months. And wasn't it she that suggested you forfeit the Millennium Ring over to Jetsu?" Barak questioned him, ignoring Bakura's expression, "How do you think the Pharaoh would have felt if you had? I doubt Yugi would have much to say to you in the afterlife."

"Even if I had turned it over to him – which I never seriously considered – you would've just come back anyway," Bakura said bitterly.

"You're defending her when she hasn't even had the time or consideration to send you more than an electronic note every month? Bold, for you anyway. But then again 'lust is blind', isn't it?" Barak asked the younger boy, a wicked smirk upturning a corner of his mouth.

Bakura frowned, "Fine," he said, sitting up, "If you want me to forget her and be miserable and alone my whole life – fine." He tossed the note in the waste basket on his way out muttering, "It's always about what you want, isn't it?"

Barak watched the teen storm out, surprised. It wasn't like him to get angry so easily. Perhaps he had really gone too far this time. The spirit got up and walked slowly over to the trash can, where he reached in and pulled out the crumpled note. He read over, refreshing himself with the text. Then he left the room, intent on finding his host.

Bakura was outside the apartment, sitting in the dimly lit stairwell. He hadn't been quite sure where to go, and wandering around in the cold wasn't the most appealing of ideas. But he also didn't want to go back inside just yet to face Barak, to try to make him understand. He reached inside his pocket for the note on instinct, and sighed as he realized he had thrown it away. Maybe it was for the better. They'd probably never see each other in person again anyway. He did miss her, though.

"You forgot something," came a voice, startling Bakura, "Here." Barak handed the paper to his counterpart, not meeting his eye.

"Why are you…?" Bakura started, staring up at the spirit.

"Drop it," Barak told him flatly, turning away and beginning back up the stairs.

"No really," Bakura persisted, scrambling to his feet, "Just a minute ago you told me to give it up and get over it – now you're giving it back to me. Why?"

"I realized the meaning of the word 'host'. A parasite cannot live without the organism to which it attaches itself. A host does not take orders from its parasite; it just manages to tolerate it somehow…" Barak turned his head, seeing if Bakura got his drift. This was probably about as close to an apology as he would ever come.

Bakura smiled, "Thank you…I think," he said. He glanced down at the worn-out bit pf paper, "It's funny...it crossed my mind that you might've understood what I was feeling…but I suppose that sort of thing was what you'd consider trivial, huh?"

Barak smiled almost sadly, "It was painfully obvious where your thoughts were, Bakura. I suppose I might've even been a bit jealous of you, really…"

The teen did a slight double take. "Of me…?" he asked, blushing, "Really…? I thought you said I was pathetic."

"Well, that speaks worlds about me now doesn't it?"

Bakura laughed slightly, and shrugged. "I don't know…" he said, heading back up the stairs. As he reached the door, he turned back to look at his counterpart, "You know…I've been meaning to ask you…did you ever have anyone…like this…?" He held up the note.

Barak stiffened, "No," he said composedly, walking through Bakura to get inside, "No one…"

Bakura shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the strange sensation he always got when his spirit passed through him and then frowned. Barak was probably the most complicated person he'd ever had to deal with, and he wondered if he would ever figure out everything about him. He reopened the door to the apartment and stepped inside as well.

* * *

"Yami, was there anything you wanted me to add for you? You know, for Dedi?" Yugi asked, looking up from Grandpa's computer where his lengthy, nearly-finished e-mail sat waiting for him to send.

The Pharaoh didn't look up from the gaming magazine he'd been reading, but Yugi could sense that behind it, he was blushing. "Um…no…I don't think so, Yugi," he said, "I've…I've never been much good with things like this."

"Oh, okay then. I'll just type something for you, than shall I?" Yugi replied, grinning nastily.

"WHAT?!?!" Yami cried, slamming the magazine on the kitchen table, "You – you wouldn't really, would you??" he stammered anxiously.

"Geez, calm down! I won't say a word if you don't want me to," Yugi told his opposite number exasperatedly.

Yami breathed a sigh of relief, and picked up his magazine again, trying to act like he'd never lost his cool, "Thank you," he murmured.

"Yup," Yugi told him, adding on a P.S. to Tsuki. It went something like this: 'Yami was too shy to type anything here, but I'm sure that he really misses you Dedi. Write soon! Bye!' With that, Moto clicked send, and the message disappeared, "Done!"

"Done with what, Yugi?" Solomon Moto asked, coming into the room. Yami instantly dropped the magazine and walked over to where Yugi was sitting in front of the computer.

"Just an e-mail, Grandpa," Yugi told his guardian evasively.

"E-mailing that girl you met in Egypt again?" Solomon inquired casually, picking up Yami's magazine and sticking it in a basket on the counter with a few others.

"Who, Grandpa?"

"The young lady from the tournament," Grandpa said, "You think I don't have your messages screened?"

The boy turned a shade of scarlet and reluctantly responded to his grandfather's original question, "Yes, I was writing to Tsuki. Happy now?"

"Very," Grandpa nodded, "It'll be nice to finally meet her when she comes to visit."

"That won't be for a while, Grandpa. Right now she's somewhere in New York City on business." Yugi began to trudge up the stairs towards his room, via the stairway out by the store-area.

Half-way up the stairs, Yami spoke. "You miss her, don't you?"

"Yeah," the younger man told him bluntly, "Egypt seems like it was so long ago. Not that I miss it or anything."

"I know the feeling…" Yami nodded, "Now that I know that Dedi's in this realm again, it's hard to be so far away from her…"

Yugi nodded, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't make the situation worse for both of them.

They reached the bedroom in silence and then, as Yugi flopped down on his bed, Yami chuckled. "I suppose I could've said something like that at the end of your message," he said, "But that might've made her do something crazy like take control of Tsuki and fly them all the way over here."

Yugi jerked his head up, "You don't really think she would, do you?"

Yami laughed, "I wouldn't put it past her. Dedi is – ahh, how do I put it? – an independent spirit. She follows the wind far too often." He sat down on the chair in front of Yugi's desk, still smiling.

"But, um, a message from say… er… someone else saying you missed her wouldn't make her do something like that…would it?" Yugi asked meekly, now beginning to regret his little add-on.

"Well, I suppose…wait –" Yami's expression darkened, "Why do you ask…?"

"Um… heh heh heh, ya know… I just thought it would be reassuring for her to know that you were still thinking about her so I, um…" Yugi trailed off, looking absent-mindedly up at the ceiling.

"Oh no…" Yami muttered, putting his face in his hands, "What did you do?"

"I just told her that I thought you really missed her, but were kinda too shy to say so yourself," Yugi said quietly, pressing his forefingers together in front of his face.

"Well…" Yami sighed, "Here's hoping she's acquired a bit more rational sense than she had in life…"

* * *

"Ooh! A new e-mail from Yugi!" Tsuki cried, clapping her hands together once. She was sitting on a hotel couch with her laptop open in front of her.

In translucent form, Dedi was leaning over the back of the couch, watching over the girl's shoulder. "What's it say?" she asked eagerly, "Anything from Yami?"

"Hold on," Tsuki said, "Let me read – he writes a lot."

"Fine," Dedi rolled over onto the couch on the other side of Tsuki, sitting Indian-style and watching her counterpart read. She smiled; the girl had turned twelve two months ago, and had hit a growth spurt as well – she was now nearly seven inches taller. She was very different from the timid thing she'd been when they'd arrived in Egypt – so much happier.

"There's something from Yami at the end," Tsuki said after a moment, pointing at the screen, "Yugi says he was too shy to type anything himself, but he misses you."

"Typical…" Dedi said, grinning, then sighed, "I miss him too…so much…" She trailed off, staring out at the city skyline forlornly before asking, "How much longer until we head back to Japan?"

"Another couple of weeks," Tsuki said sadly, "Barely in time for Christmas…"

"I don't know if I can wait that long!" Dedi said, sprawling out across the couch on her back, "These past six months have been torture!"

"Please try to be patient," Tsuki said, "You know we can't go anywhere without Mama and Papa."

"Who says we can't?" Dedi asked, "Wouldn't you love to see the look on Yugi's face if you showed up on his doorstep two weeks early?"

Tsuki hook her head, smiling. The offer was tempting, but the faces she was more concerned with would be her parents when they realized she had gone missing. Sure, it might take them a few hours to notice, but when they did, they would be plenty upset. She sighed and leaned back against the couch, wondering to herself how much of an eternity two weeks could seem like.

* * *

"Damn you, Maeda!! Damn you!!" Seline shouted, shaking the case that held the Shield. The previous night, Basil had moved it up to the third floor of the museum, which had become their living quarters for the duration of their stay in Japan. At the moment, Basil was bench-pressing weights, Chalie was buried in ancient books, and Seline was throwing a fit in front of the Shield. Aggravated, she kicked at it, smashing the glass with her steel-tipped boot. "I hate you!" she shouted at her own dull reflection in the Shield, "I'm glad you're burning in hell!!"

"Mistress…" Chalie said quietly, lifting his head up to turn his melancholy gaze on her, "Shouting at the Shield will not bring its magic back…nor reveal the counter curse to undo Jetsu Maeda's seal."

"I thought it was your job to figure that out, Chalie," Basil said as he sat up for a moment, wiping sweat off of his brow.

Chalie frowned, "Perhaps if you could read, it would be your task as well as mine."

"You wanna say that again, asshole?" Basil asked testily, standing up.

"Oh stop it – both of you!" Seline cut in, "Bickering amongst ourselves will get us nowhere." Brushing her hair out of her face, she slumped down into a cushioned wicker chair, "It also seems that treading the civilized path is leading us to a dead-end as well. Could you explain again what happened when you confronted Vitani, Chalie? I was too tired to catch all of it last night."

"She refused, but not directly. The symbol of the Millennium Eye appeared on her forehead when Vitani attempted to speak to me," he flipped the page in his book, not looking at either of them, "The most curious thing was that the symbol was red, not gold as with most Millennium Item holders. I believe you know who's trademark symbol that was, Mistress Seline."

"I do…" Seline nodded, twirling a few strands of hair around her index finger, "It seems that the Millennium Shield is not the only Item that Maeda left his influence on…" She cocked her head and the morning sun glinted off of her gold earrings. "Now the question is…how much force is going to be needed to get what we want?"