Discaimer: I do not own Yugioh

A/N: Of course, this is where the famous change in style comes in. I had originally not wanted to do this, but, yaknow, I kinda wanted character insights.

Takara's POV

I woke up on my birthday still sick to the stomach. As I opened my eyes, I threw up all over my sheets. As soon as I sat up in bed, I banged my head against the upper bunk. "Happy sweet sixteen, Takara," I muttered. At least I felt better now that I didn't have anything in my stomach.

I changed into my street clothes, pulling on my favorite jeans and ribbed tank top, slapping a studded leather wrist cuff over the burn on my left wrist. After putting my sheets and pajamas into the wash, I checked the time and groaned. 1 o'clock in the morning. I sighed, and decided that even though it was raining, I should just go for a jog. As I pulled on a hoodie, I remembered waking up every morning before Aunt Isoda died, unable to sleep out of guilt over lying to her. Lying about my grades, where I'd been, my long periods of absences. . .

I slipped a pair of headphones over my neck, then hesitated before I pocketed a small perfume bottle, just in case some kid raided my room while I was gone, which was unlikely, but still. As I opened the door, I stopped. At first I didn't know why I'd stopped, but then I recognized a sound I hadn't heard in months. A sound I hadn't WANTED to hear in months. Oh god, I thought, as the familiar motorcycle roar came down the street. Let it be another bike, I pleaded. Let it not be his. . .

There was a small crash and a distant sounding tinkle of broken glass as I stood frozen. It was only after the motorcycle roar faded down the street, did I dare check the damage downstairs. I checked the dining room, the kitchen, and the living room. All were unharmed. Oh no, not the kids' playroom. Anything but. . .

I slowly opened the door. It was cold in there, a sure sign something was wrong. The floor was cleared, all the toys put in their respective bins off to the sides of the room, courteousy of Matron. The biggest window in the room was broken, glass strewn everywhere around the rock on the floor. Rain hit my face, stinging my eyes, as I made my way to the rock. The rock was the size of my fist, and to it was tied a piece of paper. Slowly, my fingers trembling, I untied the note. Letting the rock fall to the ground, I ran. I ran as hard and as fast as I could.

Derek's POV

What I was doing up at two in the morning I'll never know. But there I was, on a school day no less, walking around on the wet streets, thinking. Takara must be really sick. She hadn't noticed that Yugi wasn't in school yesterday. It turns out he'd been kidnaped and the same person had tried to steal his puzzle. That was actually the reason I had called her yesterday, wasn't it? To tell her Yugi was in the hospital? I had gotten sidetracked, talking about experimenting with drugs.

As I thought this, I noticed a figure in a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt coming my way. I assumed the figure was a girl, just by the way she walked. She noticed me too, and crossed the street, walking faster than she had before. Wondering if she was in some sort of trouble, I ran to catch up with her. "Hey, wait!" I yelled. She started to run. "Wait!" I yelled again. She ran faster, forcing me to do the same. Suddenly she stopped, clutching her side. Nearing her, I heard her cursing. ". . . damn cramps. . ."

I slowed as well. "Hey," I panted.

She looked back at me, her hood still covering her eyes, and turned to run again. She wasn't fast enough. I grabbed her arm and held her with one hand, and with the other I pulled down the hood, revealing long, wet, black hair. "Takara?" I was shocked. Taka looked at me again, eyes read, silent tears running down her cheeks. "Takara, what's wrong?" She pursed her lips and looked away. Pulling her into a protective hug, I asked again, "Taka, what's wrong?"

For a moment, she stayed silent, but didn't fight me. "Derek?"

I tightened my grip on her, as if I was afraid I would lose her. I really was afraid I would. "I'm here," I whispered in her ear.

"Derek?" she said again.

"What?"

"Let go, please. You're cutting off my circulation."

- - - - -- - - - - - -- - - - -- - - -- - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - --

Up in the apartment I shared with Duke (which was really big) Takara curled on the couch in a bathrobe and a warm blanket. She kept her wrist cuff on. Silently, she sipped her hot chocolate. "So um, Taka, what's up?" I asked her. She still looked sick, probably from running out in the rain. Her blue eyes looked tired, anxious, and frightened all at the same time.

She looked side to side. "Where's Duke?" she asked. I thought she didn't like him.

"He sleeps through earthquakes til dawn."

"Oh," Takara said, relieved. Okay, so she doesn't like him.

"Taka, you still didn't answer me. What are you doing out at," I checked the clock on the wall. "Three?"

She took a steadying breath. "Remember. . . back in eighth grade, when Marik introduced us to drugs?" I nodded, even though we had agreed not to talk about it anymore. "Well, after we split up before high school. . . it wasn't the last time I saw Ishtar." I frowned at the mention of the one who introduced us to drugs in the first place. I remembered the pale-blonde Egyptian, seeing Takara eye him with interest way back in the eighth grade. Back then I had the biggest crush on her, but still managed to act like a protective older brother, following her around to make sure nothing happened to her.

"Don't tell me you joined his crazy gang," I warned her, my grip tightening on my mug of hot chocolate. Without a word, she put down her mug and tore off her wrist cuff. She showed me the burn mark, an intricately designed Horus Eye.

"Initiation mark," she told me as I stared. "For most of the others, it's worse. But me being a girl, I got off with only a brand. It's really deep," she added as I took her arm and studied the brand. "But Marik knew I'd be loyal, I guess." She shrugged. Putting her cuff back on, she curled tighter in her blanket.

"He didn't do anything to you, I mean, with you, did he?" Taka was confused for a moment.

"Oh..." she paused. "Oh! God, no!" She made a gagging sound in her throat. "He respected me enough. Even when he was drunk and beat me for whatever reason. . . he wouldn't do anything." She paused. "A few months before Aunt Isoda died, the day she went into critical condition, he wanted me to leave America with him. I refused. He said he'd come back for me, whether I wanted him to or not. I stayed at the head of his branch in America, but I disappeared when we were all supposed to come to Japan with him. Anyways, he threw this through the window a couple hours ago. I haven't read it yet," she added, pulling out a piece of paper. She was still shivering. Instantly, I was on the couch next to her, my arm around her shoulders. "Thanks,"she murmured, although her tremors didn't stop. She unfolded the note and we read it together.

Takara's POV

By the time I finished reading the threat, I was shaking more than I was before. Derek's warm protective grip tightened as I started to cry again. This meant I would have to keep running. Marik said if I didn't go back, he would make my life a living hell. Doesn't he know he's already done that to me?! "Make it stop," I whispered hoarsely. "Let me wake up. Tell me this is only a bad dream." Problem was, it wasn't. The paper was right there, on the coffee table in front of me, and Derek's warm hug was as real as anything. I wished that it couldn't end, that time would freeze right there, allowing me to stay in Derek's arms forever.

"Taka," Derek said. "Taka, tell me the whole thing."

So I did. I told him how Marik had used crystal as bait, and how after Aunt Isoda threw out mine, he got me more. I gave him a more detailed account of our relationship, although Derek hated that I had kissed that crazy psycho. I wonder why I had done that too. I told him about all the jobs I did, about hacking major banks and computer companies, mainly searching for his sister, who was his archnemesis. I told him about the months leading up to Aunt Isoda's death. I told him about the sleepless nights, about the guilt, about stopping crystal for my aunt. I told him about the night Isoda had died.

I told him about my brother.

"Call him," Derek suggested.

"He can't help me," I muttered. "He wouldn't WANT to."
"He would," Derek said softly, placing the cordless into my hand.

Taking a breath, I dialed the operator. "Hello, operator? I'd like to make a call. . ."

Seto Kaiba's POV

I sat at my desk, typing on the computer. I was getting information on all the best duelists in the world. I kept glancing at the Egyptian God card Ishizu Ishtar had given me earlier that evening. Besides that, I was thinking about Takara, and how she knew we were twins. At lunch, I had looked through Takara's folder she had left at school.

There were drawings of eyes all over the folder. There was one, weird eye that reminded me of Yugi Motou's puzzle. It was faded, as though it was etched into the folder and Takara had tried to erase it. I opened the folder and went through the papers. There were many drawings of kids I recognized from going to the orphanage on Tuesday.

I reached the collage of eyes she was drawing on Tuesday. They were good. They looked real. The next page was a drawing of my eyes. MY eyes. The picture was labeled "Seto Kaiba." I flipped the page, thinking, 'What's with her and eyes?' At first I thought I was looking at another picture of my eyes. But it was labeled "Takara Isoda." This was when I realized why she had been studying me, looking up my profile on the computer. It also explained the weirdtimes when I heard her thoughts. Our eyes were the same. We had the same birthday. I quickly looked her up on the computer and found a copy of her birth and adoption documents, and found that we had the same parents. It was just. . .

The phone rang, breaking into my thoughts. The ID read Devlin. Why would he be calling at this time in the morning? "Moshi moshi," I greeted.

"Hey. . . Kaiba?" a familiar voice asked, in an unfamiliar tone.

"Yes," I answered.

"Kaiba, I mean, Seto, I need your help," the frightened girl said.

"Why?" I asked, unconcerned.

"Because," Takara replied, her voice rapidly going from scared little girl to her normal annoyed and hard-edged tone.

"That's not a reason," I said. "Why should I help you?"

There was a long pause. I wanted to make her admit out loud what I had found out.

"I need to tell you why you should help?"
"Yes." More pausing.

"What if I don't want to tell you?"

"Then I don't help." I imagined Takara biting her lip. That's probably what she was doing.

"I need your help. . . because you're the only one who can help me."

"And. . ." More silence. "I'm waiting, Takara."

"I need you. . . because you're my brother."