4.
Sometimes people don't realise they need rescuing until afterwards. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
Anzu was changing the coffee filters when the bell above the café door jingled. "Hi there," she offered without turning around, going into the regular spiel as easily as she slipped on her favourite pair of shoes. "Welcome to Café La Terre. If you'll just wait a moment, I'll take your order. We at Café La Terre pride ourselves on providing the very best in cuisine and both hot and cold beverages, all of which are listed on our menu board at truly reasonable prices."
There was nobody else on duty, since her boss was taking a cigarette break out back and it was quiet enough that she was the only one on shift. Anzu dumped the old grounds in the trash, wiped her hands on her apron and turned around.
The blonde hair was familiar, and if the face had some new wrinkles – wrinkles! – then they weren't enough to make it unrecognisable. The eyes, however, looked far bleaker than she could ever remember seeing them.
"Mai?"
Mai raised her head, blinked a few times, and then realised who it was under the ridiculous purple and green uniform, with its frilly white apron and hat shaped like a folded out diaper. Anzu had recently taken to darkening her eyeliner, drawing little black curlicues at the corners of her eyes, but that and some concealer was all the make-up she could get away with at work. Mai's gaze dropped to check her nametag.
"Anzu Mazaki?"
"That's my name, don't wear it out. I haven't seen you in an absolute age."
"I've been … out of town." Mai's voice had a faraway quality, as though she'd just woken up. Emphasising this, she also sounded tired, the way Mrs. Mazaki sometimes did when she'd been looking through the old family photo albums. It set Anzu's mental alarm bells going out of pure habit. "I didn't expect to find you working in a place like this. Not after winning Kaiba's tournament."
"Meh. Duelling status only lasts so long, y'know?"
"Oh, I think I do."
The air behind her shimmered. Slowly, Yami's distinctive hairstyle took shape. "She stinks of misery," he proclaimed over Mai's shoulder. His expression was, as ever, inscrutable, but Anzu fancied she could see a hint of pity in there. He had once worked to save this woman's life, and now here she was, looking just as broken as when Malik left her sad, devastated body on the duelling field.
Sometimes the worst scars are the ones you can't see.
Anzu glanced at the clock. "Look, Mai, I finish in quarter of an hour. You want to … I don't know. You want to come back to my house and … talk for a bit? Maybe gossip and catch up on what we've been getting up to since we saw each other last?"
Mai looked taken aback at the offer.
"Or we could go somewhere else." Somewhere neutral. "Somewhere that serves better coffee than this place." Anzu cupped her mouth with her hand. "Just don't tell my boss I said that."
Mai stared at her for a long moment. Anzu thought she was going to say no, but then one side of her mouth tugged up into a weary half-smile and she nodded. "That'd be … nice."
Anzu knew that she'd always been a bit of a mother hen. In another world this might not have been so pronounced; she might have just been there for Yuugi when it suited her, and her friendship with Ryou might have been short-lived because of the different circles they moved in. But getting the Puzzle, the whole thing with Yami – and the rest – had instead sharpened her protective instincts to an edge that could rival Death's scythe.
It wasn't that she just felt responsible for everything that ever went wrong with the world, the way Yuugi sometimes did. It was more her internal monologue had a way of convincing her that everything that went wrong could somehow be traced back to her own actions.
And if there was one thing that got in the way of overcoming a guilt complex, it was discovering that everything really was your fault after all.
When Mai invited her back to her apartment rather than go out, Anzu accepted. She called her mother from the phone in the office at work, telling her she'd be getting a later bus. Then she climbed into Mai's car and they sat in heavy silence for the whole journey.
Buildings flashed past. Anzu was struck by the fact that she didn't actually know where Mai lived. For a second panic rose within her – the kind of irrational panic that consumes law-abiding citizens when they see a police car or pass a speed camera. She drove it away with the thought that Mai had been in plenty of situations where, had she planned to do anyone harm, she could easily have done just that but hadn't. So she didn't know all that much about the woman outside duelling contests. So what? Lasting friendships had been built on less.
The apartment was dark and smelled of dust and old takeout. "Sorry about the mess," Mai mumbled, kicking aside an empty pizza box and shuffling through to the kitchenette.
Anzu looked around before following.
"I've only got instant. No milk, either. Do you mind taking it black?"
In truth, Anzu wasn't much of a coffee drinker. Working around the stuff had put her off, but she nodded and sat down at the small breakfast bar while Mai jingled in cupboards looking for clean cups and saucers.
The apartment was miserable but big, and had the potential to be nice under the scattered boxes, clothes and unwashed dishes. It had the look of a bolthole; somewhere you went to hide for a while. It wasn't a place to be lived in.
"This place is … lovely." She tried to synthesise sincerity the way Rumplestiltskin spun gold from straw. "You've got a lot of space."
Mai shrugged. Everything she did was slurred, her movements running together with no real energy. The vibrant personality that had made the world sit up and take notice had faded, the same way as the petals on an unwatered plant left in the window for too long. It was disconcerting.
Anzu sighed. Might as well bite the bullet. "Since I'm doing such an excellent job of small talk, let's be straight. I haven't seen you around in a while. How've you been?"
Mai turned around and stared at her. "How have I … been?" She seemed amazed at the question.
"Yeah." Unsettled at the reaction – she wasn't much at small talk, but 'how've you been' wasn't a terrible opener, was it? – Anzu fumbled to pick the right words. "Y'know, since Battle City …" She twirled a hand at the wrist.
Mai looked hard at her, eyes narrowed.
Anzu flushed. "I know I had a few nightmares after my duel with Malik. It's not exactly something you can run to a psychiatrist for, though. Limited people who'll take you seriously when you say 'Shadow Games', right? Heh heh … Even fewer who aren't reaching for the white jackets if you try and explain all the crazy sh… all the crazy stuff that people like us have to deal with."
Yami stepped away from the counter as though he'd always been there. You could see the microwave through his torso. "Excellent diplomacy. You should leave this sort of thing to Yuugi. He's less likely to eat his own foot. Stupid girl."
Anzu ignored him. "So how're you holding up, Mai?"
The kettle switch flipped back to neutral as the water finished boiling. Mai continued to stare, until Anzu felt quite uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat.
"Of course, if you don't want to talk about it, I completely understand," she gabbled. "I mean, who am I to be so nosy? Jeez, I told you I'm bad at small talk."
"Not … want to talk about it?" Unexpectedly, Mai broke out into a wide smile. It was not a very nice smile. There was a sharp edge to it, like a knife in a nightmare. "Not want to talk about it?" she said again, laughing.
"Mai -"
"NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?"
Anzu froze. She'd never heard anyone sound quite like that before.
Mai stared at her, wild-eyed. For a second Anzu thought she was maybe going to throw something – a mug, maybe, or one of the dirty forks in the sink. Tension ran through her entire posture.
Then, as suddenly as she had tensed up, she crumpled. The fire went out of her eyes and she sank to the floor, sobbing.
Anzu didn't even think about it. She didn't remember getting up. She didn't remember crossing the room. She did, however, remember putting her arms around Mai and stroking her hair, soothing her as one would a child.
She wished she could have retained the unquestioning childhood belief that had been fed into her along with porridge and cod liver oil; that Good would always triumph over Evil. In reality Evil sometimes won, and even when Good came out on top, everything was not all healed. Everything was not all better. Evil had this way of working its claws under the skin and leaving marks that nobody could see.
Poor Mai. She was one of the walking wounded, and nobody had even noticed.
Anzu held the older woman close and shushed her softly.
Yami watched them. He hadn't moved from his spot by the counter, except to fold his arms. Anzu spared him a brief, helpless glance, which he held and turned into a longer look.
"Stay," he said simply, and vanished.
She did stay. After Mai had calmed down a little, Anzu unearthed the couch and helped her onto it. Then she investigated the cupboards and, finding no food apart from a jar of elderly mayonnaise, ordered some food from Ling-foo's Chinese Delights, which she paid for with part of her wage packet. While waiting for it to arrive, she finished making the coffee and brought two mugs through – one for Mai, and one for herself. Both went cold without so much as a sip.
Slowly, and with several pauses, Mai explained. Anzu had to tease at threads of the story, working them free with gentle coaxing and questions. At first Mai refused to say anything more than she'd been going through a 'rough patch', legendary pride planting itself in the way of any real communication. Anzu nodded, completely understanding the hidden meaning. Malik had tried to erase her from the universe, after all. She'd had several lucid dreams where Yami never won the duel, and she was obliterated by dark magick that nobody could stop. Mai listened, looking almost surprised that Anzu would tell her about such weaknesses, and the little nudges eventually unravelled a similar story.
She told Anzu what she'd been going through – the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the constant, nagging fear that her soul was once again about to be taken from her. As a professional duellist, after Battle City her days had been full of small to middling tournaments where she'd been ridiculed and pitied. Her nights were riddled with nightmares so potent she barely slept anymore. She didn't spell it out as such, but Anzu glued the fragments together to form a picture called 'breakdown'.
Mai claimed the worst thing was the helplessness. She hadn't been able to prevent Malik from doing what he did. Nothing had stopped him – not intervention, not appeals for mercy, not basic human decency. Yami-as-Anzu has thrown himself in front of her, but not even his magick had been enough. It was violation, was what it was. Malik had taken everything that made her her and devalued it – because how much could it be worth if someone could just take it away so easily?
Anzu's stomach clenched. How had nobody noticed this? True, Mai wasn't part of the 'inner circle', as it were, but still. She was a friend. It was obscene, how all their friendship speeches hadn't done anything to help them realise the torture Mai had been enduring – and enduring all alone. Anzu had been too caught up with the rigmarole following Battle City to think much about her infrequently-seen friend – the interviews about her victory and the magnifying glass held over her life until the public lost interest in her supposed affair with Kaiba. After the initial cajoling, Mai's admissions of vulnerability and loneliness tumbled from her lips in a way nobody who knew her could have predicted. All it had taken was for someone to show an interest, and they hadn't even been able to manage that …
She stayed the night, calling her mother to tell her she'd met an old fried and was staying over, and then cobbling together a bed from the couch and some spare blankets. Mai didn't protest. She slept in her own bed, but left the door open so Anzu could run through when she screaming started.
Which it did.
After the third attack Anzu fetched herself a glass of water and perched on the couch to drink it. She could hear Mai breathing from here. Right now it was steady, which was about the best she could hope for. Talking had stirred up old ghosts. The shadows seemed to pulse with unseen menace. Anzu got the feeling neither she nor Mai would get much rest tonight.
The tugging inside her chest told her Yami was awake. The room was too dark to see, but she sensed him there.
"She's damaged."
It didn't sound like an insult…
"Yeah."
"This is a very gracious thing you're doing."
"Gracious?" She snorted. "What, staying with her? Like I could really do any different? And excuse me while I faint from the compliment."
"You could have done different. A trader wouldn't sell damaged goods, and a buyer wouldn't purchase them."
"Then it's a good job I'm off duty, huh?"
They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence – heaven knew they had enough of those in their history – but rather one where neither person felt the need to say anything. Yami just stared into the gloom, while Anzu took quiet solace from his presence. He was, after all, supposed to be the Pharaoh who had once saved the world. There was a degree of comfort in that knowledge, even if he couldn't remember most of it.
"She's less there behind the eyes than she used to be."
"Excuse me?"
"Didn't you notice? Her eyes. Kind of … blank. Not happy or sad, not even when she was crying. Just blank." Anzu toyed with her glass. "Mai had the most … expressive eyes I'd ever seen. Well, after Yuugi. Hey, maybe it's something to do with the purple irises. Maybe people with purple eyes are just naturally … expressive …" She recalled that Yami had reddish-purple eyes and immediately wanted to withdraw her comment.
Yami didn't say anything.
"What should I do?"
He looked right at her. "You're asking me?"
"Yes, I'm asking you. I don't … There are a whole lot of things I've had to get used to since you landed in my life – a whole lot of things I've had to deal with. But I've done it, because I had a choice in the matter. I chose to stay involved when things got freaky. Well, freakier. But this … Mai never had a choice. She had all her choices taken away, and now they're limited again because, hey, who's going to believe her if she goes for psychological help and starts talking about ancient magicks and legacies of Egyptian tomb keepers and soul-stealers? They'll -" she dropped her voice from a whisper to barely a murmur, "they'll wrap her in a straightjacket before you can say Hayao Miyazaki."
"I hardly think their response would be one of immediate incarceration."
"Okay, so maybe the straightjacket is a little melodramatic. But the authorities would still want to put her into some kind of care. She doesn't have any family she can talk to, Yami. I'm assuming you heard what she said about her mom and dad."
"I heard."
"She's been coping with … with post-traumatic stress syndrome! And she's been doing it all alone because she thought she had to – because she thought she ought to. And now it's all coming out, and I'm the only one here, and I just don't know how to deal with this. Not properly. You're the pharaoh. You've made important decisions before. I … when I had nightmares, you were there. You … you made me feel like nothing could touch me. Mai doesn't have that. Tell me what I should do."
Yami was silent for a long while. At least it felt like a long while. It might have been only a few seconds, but in the dead of night, when there's nothing between you and the darkness of a room but your own perceptions, time takes on a new dimension.
"I …" he said eventually.
Anzu leaned forward. "Yes?"
"I … don't know what to suggest."
She slumped backwards onto the couch, glass balanced on her stomach.
Yami uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way. "I wish I could tell you what course of action would be best, but in the time since you released me, I've come to realise that my judgment is not always perfect. I am not infallible, as you have often taken great delight in telling me."
She groaned. "Did it have to be right now that you started listening to me?"
"My judgment has caused a great many hardships for people. Your friends. And if Miss Ishtar's words are to be believed, and I was indeed a pharaoh, then I would point out that my judgment also resulted in my soul being imprisoned in the Millennium Puzzle for five millennia."
"So your track record isn't great. Lots of people have off days."
He fixed her with a flat stare.
"Or ... more than just off days. But you're still the only one here, and you're still one of the few people who know what Mai went through. And, in spite of everything … I value your opinion."
"No you don't."
"It's a toss up, so I'll ask. Are you trying to be coy or stupid? You've saved my life before, you big doofus. You've saved a lot of lives. That counts when they tally up your karma. And you're willing to learn from your mistakes. You may be an overconfident, arrogant, melodramatic jerk sometimes, but hey, nobody's perfect."
Saltwater, warehouses and the news report with the correspondent down by the docks, police lights still whirring brightly even though it was daytime.
Anzu swallowed. "Right?"
Yami's face didn't crumple, but it tightened, all over, for one quick, frightening second. "I think you're overestimating any suggestion I might give. Otogi recovered from Malik's possession without outside interference."
"That's because he wasn't aware enough to realise what was happening to him while Malik's better half was in control. Mai was. We might as well cut the bull and just call it mind rape, because that's what it was, and there aren't any textbook answers on how you help someone recover from that."
Yami uncrossed his legs again and leaned forward, hands steepled. "I would simply say that company is the best remedy. Mai's greatest fear is that her soul will be taken again and placed in solitude, correct? Therefore, she should realise that her friends will not allow that to happen."
"Right. Right, I'm so calling Yuugi and Ryou and giving them the heads up in the morning. I could try Otogi again, but I doubt it'll do much good unless he's replaced that pretty secretary with someone with an actual brain."
"Ryou?"
"Well, yeah. You banished the Spirit when you took the Ring away from him, right?"
"The Ring is gone."
"So he should be fine now. Right?" She gave a hopeful smile. She didn't need to think that two of her small gallery of friends were in pain and danger more than they had to be.
"I suppose so." Yami didn't invest the words with much conviction.
Anzu put her glass on the floor and picked up the Millennium Puzzle. She ran her fingertips over the edges, thinking how sharp they still were, considering how old the artefact was and all that it had been through. "The entire Malik thing messed everybody up in some way. Mai's a wreck, Ryou can't assume the Spirit of the Ring won't come back again, Yuugi was nearly killed – even Otogi survived a car wreck, a kidnapping and a possession. I know they all just need to work through it in whatever way works for them, but it's hard playing the spectator, y'know?"
"You can't solve everyone's problems all the time, Anzu."
"Huh. I can't even do it some of the time." She pressed one sharp metal corner into the pad of her finger so hard it left a mark. "Yami."
"Yes?"
"Since we're having this big heart to heart, can I ask you a question?"
"Yes."
"Do you still like Yuugi? I mean like him like him."
"Why do you ask?"
"I just wanted to know."
"Yes."
"Yes, you do still like him?"
"I can feel that you already knew what my answer would be."
She leaned her head back. "Kind of."
"So why did you ask? I don't see how that's relevant to the present conversation."
"Please, Yami. Just work with me for a second."
"Hm."
"When did you first fall in love with him?"
Yami leaned back, eyes hard, voice flat and strangely compelling. "I am not in love with him." Even those brief words had to be pried off his tongue. Whatever his affinity for long speeches proclaiming the benefits of friendship, unity, team spirit, yadda yadda yadda, he kept the cards of his own feelings surprisingly close to his chest.
Anzu sat up. "What? But I thought - "
"I am, however, a little in love with the idea of him. What he represents."
"Huh?"
"The moment I connected with that was when I was still quite new this … situation." He was choosing his words carefully, and that was enough to make her prick her proverbial ears. "Whenever this body I found myself in was threatened, I would lash out; a defence mechanism, if you will. I was not very … coherent at the time, but I was learning things about you and your life. Those discoveries helped me become more conscious of the world and my new place in it. Though I couldn't remember much about where I came from, I knew that this world was strange to me. So, when harm did befall you, I went to the one your memories identified as an ally."
"Yuugi."
"It was not a specific moment in his company, you understand."
"I know. It never works like that. Yuugi's the kind of person who gets under your skin so good you don't even realise he's important to you until you want to leave the people who hurt him outside the hospital in a shopping cart."
Yami didn't arch an eyebrow, nor did he smirk knowingly. "Indeed."
"Except that I don't think I'm in love with him."
He didn't give pause, though she got the feeling he'd put a lot of thought into his next words. "Yuugi is exceptional. I could see that he holds his heart out for everyone to see and touch. Over time, I began to worry that it would be bruised or torn more than it already was, or perhaps ruined altogether. It was the first thing I'd truly felt apart from a need to defend y-… this body. It reminded me that I am a person, not just some vengeful demon. He is … different. Because of that, more than anything I wanted to keep Yuugi's heart safe. Keep it whole. And maybe … maybe warm it a little with my own. Just to see what it felt like."
"That's … that's actually quite beautiful. Or, taken literally, incredibly gross."
"You want to ask me another question. Go on."
"All right." She took a breath. "Did you ever kill anyone using my body?"
This answer came quicker. "I defended you."
"Did you kill that man by the docks?" She didn't have to explain which one.
"He rushed me when I was standing at the end of the quay. I simply stepped aside. He fell into the water and drowned."
"And you didn't help him?"
"Stupid girl. We would have drowned, too. I challenged him to a Shadow Game at first; one designed to reveal the true shape of his soul. He was as full of darkness as any evil spirit I have ever encountered. I saw no loss coming from his death, only a lack of whatever pain and suffering he might have caused others – the kind of pain and suffering he might have cause you, had I not been there."
She bit her lip. "And now?"
"Now? I … don't know."
That was the answer she'd wanted to hear.
However much he'd been institutionalised by the 21st Century, Yami was from a different world. His values were a hodgepodge of old and new, ancient Egyptian royalty and whatever contemporary stuff he'd absorbed from her. If it came down to it, if there was no other choice and it was one of them, those people, those friends he'd connected with, or someone else, he'd defend them to the hilt. He'd kill for them – but not unhesitatingly, and he'd feel something afterwards. He wouldn't just put a death down to collateral damage. He'd been exposed to other opinions, other schools of thought too much now – he'd be forced to think about the ramifications of killing even in a last-resort situation. This was not ancient Egypt anymore.
A small, sad smile found Anzu's lips. "It's hard, you know."
"Hm?"
"I wish I could help you remember your past – but at the same time, I don't want you to remember at all. Because then you might change. It's selfish and dumb, because you obviously really want to know who you are. But if your old self is as cruel and ruthless as you used to be … then I'd rather share my bo- … self with you for the rest of my life, so you can stay this basically good person you've become."
She could feel Yami staring at her. His gaze drew closer, but she kept her own eyes averted, so that when he came into her field of vision she could see his knees and feet and not much else. He crouched so he could look up into her face, and his wasn't open so much as it wasn't quite as closed as it had been before they started talking.
Slowly, he placed a hand on top of the Puzzle, and then slid it over the side so that it looked like he was cupping hers against it. Except that he wasn't, really, because for all his recent nobility and egotism and fucked-up-ish-ness, he was still dead. Dead and dust – or not even that.
Anzu closed her eyes, trying to seek out the feel of his hand. He was too real to be dead. Dead people were mouldy things under the ground; bodies cremated and scattered or kept in a pot on someone's mantelpiece. But there was nothing touching the backs of her hands. He was dead, and he had been for thousands of years.
And then … something.
It felt like the ghost of cobwebs, spun by long-dead spiders and carelessly walked into. Not one of those shimmery webs that sparkled when it was covered in dew, but a thick, cloying one that looked kind of like stretched-out cotton wool, and which you still found stuck behind your ear or clinging to your clothes after you'd brushed vigorously at yourself, like, a zillion times. The hairs on her hands prickled.
"I am not good," Yami told her. "Not truly."
She might have answered, except a scream stopped her the moment she opened her mouth. It wasn't her scream, but it shattered the moment just as effectively.
Yami pulled back as if stung. "You should go to her."
Anzu nodded dumbly and went through to where Mai was sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around her waist. Her skin and nightclothes were drenched with sweat, her eyes wide open, pupils like a cat staring down a truck on a dark road.
"I can't go back," she shouted, shrill and insistent. "I won't go back! I won't!"
"Mai." Anzu seated herself on the edge of the bed and touched the tangled clasp of hand and sheet. "Hush. It's okay now. Nobody's going to make you go back." She reached out to turn on the bedside light. It chased back the shadows and cast a soft yellow glow on them both.
"A-Anzu?" Mai's voiced shrank to a plaintive whisper. One hand snapped around Anzu's elbow, squeezing. Her nails were blotchy white from zinc deficiency and her hair clung to her head and neck in odd peaks and troughs. "You're still here?"
"Yeah, I'm still here."
"Still here. Still. You're still here."
Anzu could feel Yami's eyes on her back as she gently coaxed Mai's head onto the pillows and watched her fall asleep. Mai's hand remained wrapped uncomfortably around her elbow throughout, and when she finally peeled her fingers off they'd left red marks in her skin.
"You look awful."
"Thanks."
It was morning – proper morning, not just the dull grey horizon she'd seen the last time she was awake. Rubbing her eyes, Anzu rolled off the couch and massaged her feet. Why was it your toes got so cold while you were sleeping, anyway? They felt like blocks of ice. She moved like they were, too, as she slithered into the kitchen for a drink to cleanse her scratchy throat.
Merciless daylight revealed just how run down Mai's apartment really was. A vacuum cleaner stood in the corner, covered in an ironic layer of dust. Finding bin liners and stuffing them with some of the debris and old takeout boxes stirred up enough dust that Anzu was forced to open a window despite the early morning chill. It woke her up, but being more alert just made her realise how much needed to be done to make the place presentable – or if not that, then at least less of a haven for pests.
A crime scene analyst would easily have spotted the evidence of past tantrums – splatter marks against the walls, smashed ornaments, books with pages torn out and then dumped on the coffee table. The waste paper basket surrendered a whole packet of pencils, all but one snapped in half without even being sharpened, and wrapped in a sheet of paper with a few words of spidery, nonsensical scrawl. Anzu read two and then hastily threw the rest away without unwrapping them.
Thank heaven for Sundays. Not.
If it'd been Saturday she would've had school all morning. As it was, she was supposed to be meeting Ryou and Yuugi later. They were going to see a movie before she was on the evening shift at work. They'd been looking forward to it all week – all three were still playing catch-up for the large chunks of time they'd missed this year, so there wasn't a great deal of time they could call their own where they weren't forced to study. Well, she'd just have to cancel now. No other choice. Luckily, the phone line was still connected, although Anzu drew her sleeve over her hand for protection before she picked up the curiously sticky receiver.
Mai was still sleeping when she looked in. She didn't look peaceful, but she was resting, and that was a good thing, right? Anzu closed the door so as not to disturb her while she got cracking with Operation Clean-Up.
"At least I've had a lot of experience sweeping and mopping at work," she muttered.
"Indeed." Yami didn't seem to mind sitting on a dirty work surface. Of course, being an intangible spirit might have had something to do with it. "Your accolades in the field of cleaning are impressive."
Whatever connection they'd shared the night before, it had faded in the cold light of day. Anzu felt it like a physical thing – a piece of hot metal going from orange to dull grey. Solid. Uncompromising.
Cold.
A sliver of unexpected bitterness sparked within her.
"Oh shut up, Mr. No-Help."
"Surprise!"
"Yuugi? Ryou? What are you–? How did you guys find this place?"
"It wasn't easy." Yuugi kicked off his shoes with only a little difficulty. "But then we thought, hey, what's the point in having rich and powerful friends if you can't take advantage of their connections once in a while?"
"Which was where I came in." Otogi dangled his car keys from one long finger. "Having a set of wheels helped, of course. As did the fact there was a board meeting with a load of stuffed shirts and killjoy economists that was just aching for me to skip it."
"But why– I mean, how come you– I told you to go to the movies without me."
Ryou slipped past carrying plastic bags filled with lumpy things and at least one loaf of wholemeal bread. "Friendship isn't something you're supposed to neglect," he said quietly.
"Did you really think we'd leave you to do this on your own?" Yuugi added.
"It's not a chore. I'm here because I want to be."
"So are we," he grinned.
Yami was there, watching him, and suddenly everything he'd said last night came flooding back to Anzu. Yuugi's smile was like lemon juice in milk. She drew the back of one hand across her forehead to shield her expression a little, but nodded and ushered them into an apartment that wasn't hers.
"Nice threads, sweetie," Otogi commented of her work-uniform-turned-cleaner-wear.
She'd found an old scarf and knotted it around her head to keep her hair from her eyes – not the most fashionable of things, and when she caught sight of her reflection in the window Anzu saw a fifties housewife who'd forgotten her floral apron when she went out to scrub the front step.
"Screw you," she said without malice.
Ryou and Yuugi were already bickering over whether they should unload the groceries they'd brought, or get to cleaning out some of the cupboards first. Otogi smirked when Anzu plunged in to mediate and ended up arguing with them instead. She was just threatened to knock their heads together when his expression changed to uncertainty, and he cleared his throat loudly to get their attention.
"Huh?" As one, they looked up.
Mai was in the doorway. Still in her nightdress, and with flecks of old mascara on her cheeks and forehead, she stared at the four of them like they were total strangers.
Their bickering evaporated, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence that made the winter chill seem like a sauna.
Anzu didn't know what to say. She hadn't known the guys were coming over, and so hadn't warned Mai. She didn't know what to make of the expression now playing about her lips – did that mean she was pleased to see them, or outraged someone had opened her home to the world so freely? She used to be fastidious about her appearance. What was to say her apartment was any different? Not so much that she kept it clean, as so obviously wasn't the case, but maybe so much that she didn't want others seeing it in its current state – or herself, for that matter.
Like the connection with Yami, Mai's outpourings now seemed faded, as though part of some horrible nightmare – and like most nightmares it seemed uncommonly silly in daylight. Only the gauntness of her cheeks and the tear-streaked puffiness around her eyes convinced Anzu she hadn't just dreamed it all.
"Hey, sweetcheeks." Otogi was, surprisingly, the first to break the silence. It shattered around him like sugar glass. "Fancy a breakfast bagel?"
Mai stared at him. "A … bagel?"
"Mm-hm. Fresh from the best deli this little city has to offer. Granted, considering the time it's more of a brunch bagel, but it's still a fantastic handheld stack of nourishment and carbs." He fished in a brown paper bag and held out something round wrapped in greaseproof paper. "I swear by these babies. Can't figure out new ways to beat out my business rivals unless I've had my morning coffee and bagel."
Mai looked at the offering and back at his face. Then she swept her gaze around the room and furrowed her brow. "Why are you here?" she asked angrily.
"Can't a trio of devastatingly handsome men drop in unannounced without being interrogated?" Otogi asked.
"We're here because Anzu told us you needed us," said Yuugi.
"Oh she did, did she?" Mai shot Anzu a look that could have frozen the steam off a cappuccino.
"Sort of," Anzu admitted, feeling uncomfortable. "I said you … weren't well. But I only told them the abridged version, though."
"And when you heard about how poor little Mai went all to pieces, you all felt guilty and decided to come running to clear your consciences. Is that right?"
"That's not it at all," Ryou protested.
"Oh? Then what is it? Because I'd really like to know why you decided to show up now instead of, say, weeks ago. The timing seems just a little convenient. Pfft. You guys make me sick."
Ryou blanched, and Yuugi looked upset. Otogi's expression slammed shut completely.
This wasn't what Anzu had expected at all. Mai had been so broken, so helpless, she'd thought a serving of piping hot friendship would help bring her out of herself – maybe stop her obvious downward spiral. Instead, it seemed to be having the exact opposite effect. Where she had been grateful for company when she awoke screaming, now she seemed outraged and insulted at even the suggestion.
Which was kind of understandable, she supposed. Kind of. They had neglected Mai when she needed them. She had every right to feel snubbed. It was just unsettling to hear someone start ranting when you had their heartfelt dried snot on your shoulder.
"I'm not a charity case," Mai snapped. "I don't need 'saving', and I don't need you to baby me. Yes, I went through hell after Battle City. And on that note, where were you when I really needed you? You were off enjoying your glory, not thinking about me. Which is fine. I never made contact with you. I'm my own person. I'm an independent, kick-ass modern woman. Why should you think anything was wrong? But showing up now because the guilt bugs are biting at your nuts? Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take the sympathy when it's sincere."
"Mai, we're not here because we feel guilty."
"Be quiet, Anzu. You were there for me last night, and don't think I'm not grateful for that. But I haven't forgotten how you were off playing footsy with Seto Kaiba when I needed a friend. Friendship was always your forte, wasn't it? When you duel, you talk about how friendship makes you stronger, how you battle for your friends and you never would have gotten anywhere without friends by your side and watching your back. You're like the poster child for all that touchy feely team spirit crap. Bull! Obviously you weren't watching my back. Or wasn't it pretty enough for you? Do you only watch the backs of boys you've got the hots for?"
"Now that's uncalled for," Otogi interrupted.
"Really? Oh, excuse me. I should be spouting sweetness and light, weeping and telling you how grateful I am for the gift of friendship you're so graciously bestowing on me. I don't deserve such kindness – really. What's negligence and being ignored? Screw resentment – I have a bagel!"
"Enough!"
The force behind the word was enough to stun everyone into silence – even Mai. She narrowed her eyes, but the vitriol stayed behind her clenched teeth.
Anzu flexed her ethereal fingers and hoped she'd made the right decision.
Yami looked out of her eyes at Mai – right into her – and said in a low voice, "You've been hurt. We know this. Bitterness is your right, but it won't help anything. Will getting angry at us make the nightmares go away? Will it renew your love of duelling? Will it help you rebuild your life, your health, your self-worth? No, it won't. And the sooner you realise that, the sooner you can get on with repairing what Malik's evil and our selfish inattentiveness have injured."
Mai opened and shut her mouth, but no sound came out.
Please be the right decision. Please.
"You have every right to be angry, Mai. But not at us. Right now, we're the only people willing to answer your call for help. Are you really willing to spurn us just because of hurt feelings? You need us, Mai. And while we don't need to help you, we want to. We want to because you're a friend. You're important to us. Our actions aren't totally free from guilt, but helping you simply for the sake of doing so is a much greater reason for our being here. We all risked our lives to save you from the Malik's shadows. We've all felt the sting of his magick in some way, and some of us are still rec0overing ourselves. Consider that before you say any other ill-thought-out remarks."
Yuugi and Ryou could tell Yami was in control. You could see it in their faces. It was just dawning on Otogi, but Mai's expression was inscrutable. Behind her eyes a stone skipped across a lake of emotions, a different one passing over her features every time it hit the water. Anzu waited without breath to see what would happen.
There was a sense of isolation to Mai's apartment, of being far from the rest of the world; but as Mai glared at Yami and the others, as her expression slowly fractured and split apart, and she took that first tentative, painful step towards recovery … it suddenly seemed a whole lot closer.
Anzu still had to go to work. She couldn't afford not to.
Café La Terre seemed louder than usual, and more unruly than she could ever remember it. Her boss even banned one regular, who had parked up for the night in a nearby lot and taken the opportunity for a little Dutch Courage. The ruckus should have taken her mind off things, but she still saw the reflections of her friends in every cup of coffee and pot of tea she poured.
Afterwards she had to go home for a change of clothes. She'd slept in one of Mai's nightdresses, but cleaned in her work uniform and hoped her apron covered most of the grime later. Very unhygienic, but it couldn't be helped, and she honestly couldn't bring herself to care.
Her mother was out somewhere – an evening class, maybe, or with Omishi, a man she'd met while learning to paint. Anzu wrote her a note after packing some night things and checking the answering machine. There were two messages: one from a telemarketer from an insurance company, and one from her father.
Mr. Mazaki's was nothing much. His messages rarely were. Just a quick hello, how are you, how's your mother, sorry for missing you and we really should get together for dinner and a chat sometime. When it was done Anzu stared at the answering machine for a while, not quite sure what to think.
She wasn't saddened by her father's contact, but neither was she overjoyed to hear from him. Rather, his voice just underscored the weird feeling that had percolated in her gut since the morning.
It had been just over twenty-four hours since Mai walked into Café La Terre. How much had gone ahead and happened since then? Too much, probably. Or not enough. You really couldn't tell until afterwards. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
The pattern of Anzu's life and the lives of those around her up to that moment suddenly solidified into a giant lump of pain and hidden frailties.
Yuugi. Perennial victim with a martyr complex and a grandfather with a dicky heart. One parent dead and the other was just … Mrs. Mutou.
Otogi. 'Lonely at the top' was the phrase, wasn't it? Most people who learned that had years before they had to appreciate what it meant. Being a protégé was a double-edged sword.
Mai. Poor Mai. That was all she could think anymore, even though she felt guilty as all hell doing it because Mai was still fiercely independent and proud while she clung at people. Poor Mai.
And Ryou.
It was probably good for Ryou to be over at Mai's, in the company of others. That time they'd spent trapped in Anzu's house with the reporters outside immediately after Battle City had prevented him from wallowing in his own self-pity, or becoming completely paranoid with worry over the Spirit of the Ring. It had been hard both ways, because he was naturally reticent anyway. She'd learned just how much when she picked an envelope up off her kitchen floor and caught the letter that fell out. Ryou had snatched it from her hand, uncharacteristically rough and then immediately contrite. That was how she'd learned about Amane.
That period of imprisonment meant she'd learned a lot about her friends that she probably never would've known otherwise.
Without even meaning to, Anzu, Yuugi and, to an extent, even Yami, had pulled Ryou out of himself and given him a reason to stay in reality – something he never could have done sitting alone in his empty apartment.
On some level they were probably trying the same tactic with Mai.
Anzu sat on a wall by the bus stop, needing space to think that Otogi's car wouldn't provide. She munched absently on a rice ball her mother had left in the fridge, examining passers-by. Tall and short, skinny and overweight, couples, individuals – a wealth of conversations, expressions, snatches of other lives.
She did it every night that week, and then the next when going over to Mai's or meeting her friends somewhere else. Anzu found herself watching people more and more, he eyes drawn to those around her when she would've usually tuned them out as background noise.
What sort of homes were these nameless people returning to? she wondered. How many had faced – or were facing – tragedy, or had it yet to come? She often had such thoughts now, and would walk through school or along a street looking at people, imagining them all weighed down by some dire form of stress.
Once, in a rare moment of communication, she let a few of these thoughts slip to her mother. Surprised and alarmed, and maybe thinking it had something to do with her father's contact – the promise of dinner and a chat had fallen through once again – Mrs. Mazaki tried to comfort Anzu, telling her that in the end most people adjusted to their pain – though it might never be properly healed. Anzu must not, she adjured, go around thinking that everyone's heart was breaking. You could very easily be happy and sad at the same time, and small pleasures were often remembered more than large troubles.
Anzu nodded and tried hard to understand. Intellectually, it was easy. It was the stuff of a thousand pins and bumper stickers – shit happened. Bad things cropped up all over the place. You couldn't stop them – not all of them. Sometimes you just had to soldier on regardless, living in spite of the bad stuff, or on top of it; laying a board between you and the crap that had come before the present moment. It was how you dealt that counted.
Emotionally, however, it was harder to grasp. How did you ignore the bad stuff enough to concentrate on the good? How did you function in the little day-to-day things when all around you the people you loved were hurting and not mentioning it? Sometimes it seemed like she knew as much about them as any person who passed her on the street. Sometimes it seemed less.
Since that conversation, Mrs. Mazaki had started devising surprise treats for her daughter. She knew one of Anzu's friends had recently gone through a mysterious hardship that demanded company, and large doses of it. It wasn't her way to pry – which was probably a reason she'd never found out about Yami – but little things tipped her off that it was serious, and it was as if she feared this hardship was turning Anzu towards a depression of her own. A new pair of ballet shoes was on her bed when she got home from school one day. Her favourite flavour of ice cream appeared in the freezer. One Sunday her mother woke her to say that they were going to the circus, where they spent the day laughing and marvelling at all the things that would grow stale if they were rooted in one spot too long.
Mrs. Mazaki didn't snoop, which Anzu was glad for, since she didn't know how much she would've believed anyway, but she tried to help lay that board between the past and the present that Anzu could balance on so the future wouldn't knock her for six.
"She loves you very much," Yami commented that night.
"Uh-huh."
"I sometimes wish that I remembered more of my own mother and father."
Anzu paused in looking under her bed for her other tennis pump. "I – wish I could help you," she said, awkwardly sincere. "I do. Honest." No inflection. No point. He could see she meant it underneath.
He smiled then. Always so unexpected, that smile – that real smile, as if he were suddenly seeing her and liking what he saw. It made her feel both pleased and slightly sick that she wanted that … approval from a lump of metal that only glowed orange when you weren't looking.
I hate you, she thought privately, but even to her it sounded false.
"You're sure you'll be okay?"
"Mom, I'll be fine. Really. I can take care of myself."
The tannoy boomed. Mrs. Mazaki looked up and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "That's my train. Now, if you need anything, you will call me, right?"
"Mo-om."
"I'm your mother, Anzu. I'm allowed to needlessly fuss and worry about you. It's in the handbook."
"If I need anything I'll call Grandma's straight away."
"And you have my cell number, don't you?"
"Programmed into mine." Anzu held up her phone with her mother's name on screen to prove it. "Now get going before the train leaves without you."
Mrs. Mazaki made a frustrated face. "I wish you could get time off to come with me."
"I'll book some extra holiday from work next school break. Then we can spend a whole week at Grandma's."
"I suppose that'll have to do." Her face said she'd hoped Anzu would change her mind at the last minute and chase after the train like in some American black and white movie. When it was quite obvious this wasn't going to happen, she let out a breath and picked up her tote bag. "Love you, sweetie."
Anzu received the kiss on her forehead and returned it with one to her mother's cheek. For a second Mrs. Mazaki looked puzzled, but then she shook it away and started off down the platform.
Hands jammed into the pockets of her coat, Anzu watched until her mother was safely onto a carriage. Her fingers were sweating. She could have gone with her, had she really wanted to, but she hadn't wanted to spoil the visit with her own gloom.
Go away, black cloud. You're spoiling my groove.
For a billionth time, her melancholy looked sidelong at her and flipped a middle-finger salute.
Yami came walking back up the platform. With every step he took, the tightness in Anzu's chest alleviated a little more. He could go far further from her than in the beginning, but there were still limits to how far they could stretch the psychic link before it started to hurt. They'd been experimenting before Mai walked back into their lives, and now they didn't know how far they could travel apart before one or both of them felt the burn.
"She's sitting next to a woman in a very bad hat," Yami said.
Anzu nodded.
There was a familiar face by the carriage next to her mothers. A boy about Anzu's age stared up at one of the train windows, where a woman and girl who bore a striking resemblance to each other were sitting. The window was open and the girl was saying something, knuckles just visible over the rim of metal. She wore dark glasses, and Anzu could see the strap of a white cane looped around her wrist.
When the train pulled away the boy took a few steps after it, waving furiously. He came to a stop not far from where Anzu was standing, and when the train was gone he turned and froze. His eyes were not as hard as they used to be, but they were still guarded, and his posture still exuded a 'punch first, ask questions later' attitude. Despite this, Anzu recognised something in him; some sense that he was as tied down as she felt. It stretched between them, thin and brittle as a piece of wire in a frost.
The boy turned his back, and the feeling snapped and curled backwards over itself towards either one. He walked away, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. It was a scruffy green thing, torn at one elbow and covering a shirt that looked like a casualty in a canteen war. He walked like he didn't want to go where he was going.
When Anzu finally turned around, so did she.
Yami looked like the kind of person you could depend on – not the way you could depend on some guys not to call, but in an 'I'll get you out of that burning building' sort of way. Being all gung-ho could get incredibly tiresome – especially when it came with his peculiar brand of bull-headedness – but sometimes it also proved incredibly useful.
"It's never going to happen for me."
"What?"
Anzu stared at the glossy photograph advertising Swan Lake at the Domino Hippodrome. The ballerina's hair was completely obscured by her feathered headdress; her tiny shape flared outwards in a tutu more splendid than any worn by the corps in the background. They were the guppies to her rainbow fish, even though all of them wore white.
A letter sat next to Anzu on the bed, the torn envelope beneath it. Yami tried to see what was written.
"I've been let go," she told him.
"Let go?"
"From my ballet class. I missed too many sessions. Fell too far behind. I can audition to join again next academic year if I want, but…"
"Don't you want to?"
"I don't know."
"I thought it was your dream to dance."
"It was. Is."
"You missed the classes because you were spending time with Mai."
"Amongst other things. I just haven't been concentrating properly lately. It was a specialised class – it wasn't just for being taught, it was for getting noticed by scholarship committees and stuff. I've been making a lot of beginner's mistakes … always thinking about something else – about being somewhere else. I used to go to ballet to forget …" She crumpled up the advert and tossed it at the waste paper basket, which it bounced off to hide behind her chest of drawers. "It's just not the same anymore. I don't enjoy it as much as I used to – as much as I should to keep that old dream. You need commitment for that sort of thing."
"You're very committed."
"More like I should be committed. Just leave it, Yami. It's not worth it."
Life had trapped her. And it had been sneaky about it – sending out tendrils one at a time and then tightening them all at once, tying her down so thoroughly that just thinking about breaking free made her feel tired. She was tied to her friends, to the Puzzle, to her family, to her job, to Domino – to her home. Except that home wasn't where the heart was after all. Home was what guilt pinned you to, brittle wings forever stretched out in a pitiful mockery of flight. Home was where you belonged.
"All right, that's it."
"Huh?" She looked up into Yami's shadow. Strange that a spirit could even cast one, really. "What's it?"
"I'm tired of seeing you act so maudlin. I was prepared to let you indulge a little, but this is too far. Your dreams are too much a part of who you are for you to just let them go so easily. That's not the stupid girl who solved the Millennium Puzzle and fought me at every turn except the one where I got to live through her. That's a self-pitying weakling, and I cannot stand by and allow you to turn into such a disgraceful creature. It's weak-willed and neglectful and completely unacceptable. No."
Anzu raised an eyebrow. "And just what do you intend to do about it?"
"Get your coat. We're going out."
"Oh don't be ridicul- "
"Get. Your. Coat." His expression balanced on a knife-edge.
Anzu sighed like a flat tyre. "All right, all right." She might have tried insulting him, just because, but really, what was the point anymore? It was all just rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic.
"I don't see how this is supposed to help."
They'd gone into town, to a street lined with arcades and the odd pergola. Midi tunes echoed from open doorways, with crowds of kids growing denser the further in you went. Anzu felt too old to be there – which was ludicrous, considering she was about the average age, if not a little young compared to most of the customers.
Yami stalked along with his hands in his pockets. She'd just thrown on an old sweater and some jeans, but they looked sloppier on her than on him. Somehow he managed to make threadbare elbows sexy, like a poet in one of those basement beatnik coffee bars. He seemed to be searching for something, and would pause every so often to peer into a shop, before shaking his head and moving off again.
Eventually he stopped. "Here we are."
"Where?" The arcade didn't look different than any of the others, but Yami seemed really invested in going inside this one, so she followed him. Her progress was hampered slightly by her need to navigate crowds versus his ability to walk straight through them, but she caught up with him on the other side, the sound of pinball machines and Zombie Goo Monsters making her feel quite deaf.
She might have asked 'Why did you bring me in here?' but she immediately knew why.
The DDR machine was luminous, one platform gaping wide like a shark's mouth as it leaps from the water. A thin boy in slacks was on the other, clumsily working his way through an intermediate level of arrows and arm gestures that were less John Travolta, more gazelle with broken legs. A crowd of other boys egged him on from the sidelines.
"You're not seriously suggesting that I -?" Anzu started.
"Get on," Yami ordered.
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I'll make a fool of myself."
"No you won't. You're too good a dancer to look foolish."
"I'll feel dumb. I can't even get through a simple ballet class without tripping over my own feet these days. How the hell am I supposed to survive public humiliation in a place like this?" She'd been here before, and stood holding drinks while Yuugi and Ryou played on the driving game. That must've been how Yami knew about it.
There was gum sticking to the bottom of her shoe, and the air felt greasy against her skin, smelling of hotdogs and overcooked noodles. She should just turn around and go home, she told herself. Just turn and go.
"Hey there, gorgeous," said a voice. Suddenly one of the guys had detached himself from the group and come over with his hands in his back pockets, crotch thrust forward. "You look kind of lost."
Anzu looked at him. He wasn't unattractive, though his hair needed a wash and his revolting slacks were so tight you could tell if he'd been circumcised or not. He moved languidly, muscles stretching and loosening to make him move. His gait reminded her of … something. She got a little shock when she realised it was the same way the only boys in her ballet class moved. You could always spot a dancer if you knew what you were looking for.
"I'm fine," she replied, trying not to sound too offhand, but really not interested after the way he looked her up and down like a side of meat and thrust his crotch out a smidge more. Why didn't he just carry a sign? 'Look here!' "Just going, actually."
"Aw, don't run off. You look a little down in the dumps. Care to share?"
"Not really. Excuse me."
"I got a really good shoulder for crying on."
"I'm fine, thank you. If you'll just excuse me …"
"Oh. Well, maybe a spin on the DDR will cheer you right up, eh?"
"I don't think so - "
"C'mon. It'll be fun. My pal just finished his turn so there's two spaces available."
"Really, I'm fine."
"Oh, I know that." Another up-and-down look. Anzu felt something begin to cook behind her eyes.
"Oh do you?" she said frostily. She tried to look aloof and uninterested, but she must have got it wrong, because he started acting like she'd given him to go-ahead. After a few minutes of politely and not-so-politely brushing off his advances, Anzu took several steps backwards and half turned to leave.
"Don't go," said the guy, catching her wrist.
"Please let go of me."
"I will if you come play a round of DDR with me."
"Sorry, but I don't do bribes."
"Who's bribing? I'm just asking you for a game. No harm in that. Tell you what; you play one game with me. If you win, I'll stop bothering you. If I win … well, we'll see."
"No, I don't think we will." Anzu found herself want to yank away her wrist and smack him, but he hadn't, actually, done much wrong yet – beyond not take a dozen hints and invade her personal space. Although if he didn't let go of her soon, she was going to have to introduce his crotch to her kneecap.
Yami was actually smiling at her – or, not smiling, more smirking, but still, he wasn't leaping to her defence and trying to seal the guy in a pot or banish his soul or anything. Either he'd really mellowed, or he was actually enjoying this.
And, in a weird sort of way … she was, too.
Perhaps enjoying wasn't quite the word, but she felt more like herself than she had in a while. Though feeling more like herself when faced with potential perverts was possibly something she should be worried about.
"Hey, Johnny," said one of the other guys. "You bothering the honey?"
Honey? Anzu's inner-feminist, already having conniptions, gritted her teeth so hard they cracked.
"Just being friendly."
The group guffawed at that. One of then actually slapped his thigh (who did that anymore besides people trying out for Oklahoma?). He moved with all the grace of your average Mack truck, a total antithesis to the guy in front of Anzu. "If he offered you a game of DDR, girl, don't take him up on it. Johnny's the reigning champion."
Johnny puffed out his chest a little. Anzu got the feeling she was supposed to be impressed.
Yami whispered in her ear – right inside it, like her conscience or something. "I think that was a challenge."
'Talking like that doesn't really help the whole heal-your-pain thing you were going for' she wanted to say. But she didn't, because the bunch of banana brains were staring at her and her inner-feminist was jumping up and down on her brain stem.
She turned to go.
"Hey, you're Anzu Mazaki!" someone suddenly shouted.
"Anzu Mazaki?" A kid on a pinball machine looked up and pulled his baseball cap away from his eyes. "The Duel Monsters champ? Here?"
"Wow!"
"I heard she lives in Domino!"
"Where? Where?"
"Over there, nimrod."
"She's shorter in person."
"Who cares about legs when you got boobs like that?"
"Shut up, nimrod."
"Is she here to game?"
"Duh, there's no duelling field in this joint."
"So why's she here?"
"I think she's gonna have a dance-off with Johnny Steps!"
"Really?"
"I did read that her hobbies include dancing."
"Would that be regular dancing or pole dancing?"
"Shut up, nimrod! She'll hear you!"
"Oh boy, this is so cool! The Queen of Games versus the King of the Dancefloor! I gotta get me a disposable camera from the front desk."
"Dude, you have so gotta invest in a camera-phone."
The crowd started to tighten inwards, forming a loose net around the DRR machine. Anzu backed up, disconcerted by the sea of eager and excited faces. She shot a glance at Yami, wondering if he'd hoped something like this would happen and picked this place accordingly. Though how he hoped being mauled would help her emotional well-being, she had no idea.
"So you're Anzu Mazaki, huh?" Johnny Steps murmured far too close to her ear. "I'm honoured. We don't get many celebrities around here." His voice had a slinky quality, like a cat fitting through a too-small gap. "So, are you going to give the public what they want?"
"Do you reckon they'll let me past if I don't?" She wasn't sure who she expected to answer that.
"You can beat him," Yami said.
I don't want to beat him. I don't even want to be here. I want to be at home, she thought bitterly. She had to be at work in the morning, and she'd promised her mother she'd pick up some groceries, and then there was that homework she'd been putting off, and Ryou was going to phone because he'd been the latest nominee to stay over at Mai's, and and and –
The crowd leered closer.
Something inside Anzu … didn't snap. Or crack. Or even shatter. It split open, like an actual, physical organ.
She looked at Johnny and was pleased to see his confidence waver at what was in her eyes. "One game. Then I'm going." Yami can't do this. Can he? He duels. Can he dance? I've never seen him do it, but that doesn't mean anything. Seeing isn't believing.
Yami smirked sharply and gestured for her to climb the steps. Evidently he was sitting this one out. Odd, since he was usually salivating at the merest hint of a challenge, no matter what it might be.
Grimly, Anzu stepped up.
She'd meant just to dance once and then go home, no matter what the outcome. One dance to pacify people.
Then she won.
Not just won, either. She totally massacred Johnny Steps. DDR wasn't complicated when you were used to intense ballet workshops – even if you were out of practise. She'd taken tap and jazz as a child, too, which stood her in good stead when Johnny demanded a rematch and upped the ante by setting the machine on its highest level.
She wiped the floor with him.
The crowd went wild. After the second defeat the calls from Johnny's group dimmed a little, as if they knew the rapidly expanding crowd outnumbered them. People came in off the street, wondering what all the commotion was about. Management was thrilled. You could practically see the money signs in their eyes.
Anzu just carried on dancing, her feet remembering things her brain had long since forgotten. It was like moving through a dream – one of those where your body isn't your own, and you're perfectly aware of what it's doing, you just can't stop it. The first set was jerky as she adapted to the demands of a DDR routine. The second was easier. She started to use her arms for more than balancing. By the third set she was actually starting to enjoy herself.
She wasn't dancing for a teacher. She wasn't dancing because she'd dreamed of it, worked like hell for it for years. She wasn't even dancing to answer a challenge. It had never been about that – not really. She danced because she could, because it was there in her head, just lying there like a book waiting to be picked up and read. She danced like it was the only thing left she remembered how to do, felt it, owned it. The rest of the world – the angst, the fretfulness, the demands of life and the desire to fix the unfixable – it all fell away and it was just her, just dancing, just moving.
Yami's smirk made the back of her neck tickle.
"How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That dancing would make me feel better."
"Simplicity is the essence of contentment. A mouse holding a grain of corn is infinitely happier than one trying to move an entire stalk."
"Uh … right."
They were sitting across from each other in the corner of a fast food restaurant some distance from the arcade. It was busy and noisy enough that nobody really noticed when Anzu's lips moved and she talked to an empty chair. Yami had his feet up on the table and his arms folded across his chest. Smug satisfaction rolled off him in waves.
Anzu looked down at her milkshake. "I was all ready to give up on dance. I forgot why I loved it in the first place. Not just the ballet, but all of it. I'd narrowed it down to just this thing I had to do, because it'd been my dream to go to America for so long. I'd forgotten that it was supposed to be a journey, not a destination. I'd forgotten why I even started that dream in the first place."
"I'd noticed."
"Yeah. You notice a lot of stuff, don't you?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," he replied in a voice that said he knew exactly what she meant.
Anzu studied him for a second. "Thanks."
"Your gratitude could be better shown by a visit to a game shop. Your deck needs re-evaluating."
"I take it you have a specific game shop in mind?"
He didn't bother to reply.
"Yuugi, you have a visitor."
"Just a sec, Grandpa." There was a series of grunts and the sound of something crunching. Yuugi appeared from the storeroom, streaked with sweat and grime that did nothing to mute his grin when he spotted her. "Anzu, hi!"
"Hey, Yuugi."
"Yuugi, did I hear something break just now?" Sugoroku Mutou asked.
"Uh, no." Yuugi's face was about as innocent as a crime scene.
"Oh dear." Leaving them alone, his grandfather went to inspect the damage.
"Quick," Yuugi whispered. "If we hurry upstairs he won't bend my ear about that."
"Actually, Yuugi, I kind of wanted to have a look at your card stock first." Anzu pushed a lock of hair behind her ears.
Yuugi blinked. You could see the connections playing out in his head. "Oh. Is, uh – is Yami here?"
She nodded. Then, as agreed, she gave up control to the spirit and watched as Yuugi led him to the counter and the display case where they kept all their best cards. Yuugi didn't even flicker, though he had to know they'd switched. He was attuned to it by now. He brought out a tray of rare trades and started to haggle in a way that would have made his grandfather proud were he not transporting a carrier bag of broken plastic to the dumpster out back.
Yami was enjoying himself immensely. She could sense it, his diverted attention allowing bits of emotion to leak into her. He touched Yuugi's hand once, briefly, but he was reaching for a card and it was accidental – supposedly. Yuugi held out another card and they talked shop, firing game strategy at each other like bullets in a gang shootout. Yuugi was obviously pleased to have someone he could talk about Duel Monsters with, but Yami flared with a kind of pleasure Anzu didn't feel from him very often. He was always so closed off to her, even when he wasn't. They shared brainspace, but rather than make him more open it made him more private. She only knew what he chose to tell her; she didn't truly know him.
Yuugi and Yami fitted. Not only did they look disturbingly familiar (if only when Yami was in spirit form), their natures seemed to complement each other. It was … kind of uncanny, actually. Watching them, Anzu realised that she and Yami would never have the kind of relationship he and Yuugi might have had if Yuugi been the one to solve the Millennium Puzzle. They were black and white, while she was more grey.
Leaving them to their conversation, she closed unreal eyes and went back to the feel of just her and the music…
"He's still straight."
"Grrnf."
"You do realise that, right?"
"Play the damn card."
To Be Continued …
Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs
"They'll wrap her in a straightjacket before you can say Hayao Miyazaki."
-- Hayao Miyazaki being the Japanese filmmaker famous for such works as Kiki's Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away and, most recently, Howl's Moving Castle.
"I could see that he holds his heart out for everyone to see and touch…" … "That's … that's actually quite beautiful. Or, taken literally, incredibly gross."
-- This whole exchange is developed from a scene between Angel and Buffy in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode Helpless. I heart Joss Whedon.
Ryou slipped past carrying plastic bags filled with lumpy things and at least one loaf of wholemeal bread.
-- Wholemeal bread is a great thing to eat if you're suffering from zinc deficiency.
Otogi was, surprisingly, the first to break the silence. It shattered around him like sugar glass.
-- Sugar glass is what they use in movies for bottles and windows that need to smash without actually injuring someone, so it shatters easily and into far more pieces than normal glass to prevent impact damage.
Anzu still had to go to work. She couldn't afford not to.
-- Strange how when there's a crisis, the world doesn't just grind to a halt and wait for it to be over before starting up again.
It was all just rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic.
-- That is, engaging in a completely useless activity in dire circumstances. Also taken from InterNutter's fic, Don't Pity Me.
… she caught up with him on the other side, the sound of pinball machines and Zombie Goo Monsters making her feel quite deaf.
-- Zombie Goo Monsters is a video game from the WB cartoon Xiaolin Showdown.
"Play the damn card."
-- A reference to the LiveJournal YGO community called (you guessed it), Play the Damn Card, Already!