A/N: At last, the dawn. :)

Rating: T (for mild language)

#6 The space between dream and reality

Jounouchi felt good. No, he felt great. He was still dripping wet and shivering and he smelled like, well, like whatever was in that canal, but none of that could dampen how good he felt. He probably shouldn't feel so good, he realized. It's not like he did anything great or noble, and he'd been an ass in the first place, but in the end, he'd owned up to it and made it right. When was the last time he'd done that? Had he ever?

And had he ever felt like this? Not since his parents got divorced. When he had brought Shizuka to the beach that one time, that had felt this good. But since then? He couldn't remember a single time. Getting drunk that time, he'd thought that had felt good, right up until he realized that it meant he really was just a clone of his father. And he'd thought fighting felt good, that wielding that kind of power over others had felt good, but in light of this, in light of that sense of knowing he'd done something right, even something this small and insignificant, the drunken haze and power trips were nothing. Worse than nothing. It was like when you were a kid and you saw those cheap plastic toys that came in gumball machines, the ones you thought were really cool, but that crumpled after a day and when you saw them next to real toys, the kind only rich kids like that Kaiba guy could afford, you realized how cheap and flimsy and fake the gumball toys really were and that you'd wasted your allowance on nothing so you felt worse than when you had nothing to begin with.

Not that he was the gang-banger he'd once been. He'd actually changed a lot over the past year or so since gradually disentangling himself from Hirutani and his gang, but he and Honda were no saints, either. They weren't above finding guys smaller and weaker than themselves and harassing them just because they could. And he'd thought that that had felt good, too, because it was nice to know even without the gang at his back he still had some power, that some kids still feared him. But that was just gumball-machine-toy good, too. It wasn't real and it was worse than nothing.

He still wasn't sure why he'd done it. There was just something about that Yugi kid, the way he'd jumped—all five feet of him—in front of Ushio (Domino High's very own version of Hirutani), and defended him and Honda, calling them his friends. After what they'd done. After what he'd done. It was pathetic, really, and yet… something about the way the kid had said it, the way he'd called them friends made Jounouchi want to be worthy of that. Made him want to be the kind of person who deserved a friend like that. The kind of person he used to be, when he'd risk a week of grounding just to give his sister a day of bliss at the beach.

So without really even giving it much thought, he'd gone back to the canal outside the classroom window where the whole thing had started and just dove right in. It took him a long time to find the small gold puzzle piece in the murky water, and when he finally did find it, he broke the surface with a joyous shout and kissed it like it was buried treasure. At that moment, the water in the canal no longer felt foul; it was Baptismal water and he was being reborn.

He hadn't even bothered to change before going to that funky game shop where the kid lived with his grandpa, a really freaky old dude, and then the deed was done. The puzzle piece had been returned to its rightful owner so he could make his own peace with himself for swiping it in the first place. But mostly he returned it as a way to thank Yugi for… for seeing him as he could be and not as he was. And damned if he didn't want to be the person that weird little shrimp saw him as because being that person, even just a little, felt good.

It made him think of Shizuka, the only other person in his life who had ever seen him that way, as a reflection of everything he could be instead of all the things that he really was.

It had now been more than two years since he'd had contact with her. Even after extricating himself from Hirutani's gang, he hadn't felt worthy of her. He still was a punk and a bully and a lousy big brother and he couldn't bring himself to even apologize to her because what good would it do? She deserved better than him and he still couldn't think about her without pain. Even now, even in light of how good he felt after doing the right thing for once in his miserable existence, he still couldn't think of his sister without feeling deeply ashamed of everything he'd become.

It was late when he got home. His dad was there, snoring on the couch, his boots still on, one leg and one arm dangling off the side. Bottles and take-out food boxes—the usual décor chez Jounouchi—were everywhere. Jounouchi ignored the clutter and his sleeping, probably passed-out father and went straight to the bathroom where he stripped out of his wet clothes and jumped in the shower. Even the shower felt good, like the grime it washed away wasn't just from the canal but from years of behaving like a dumb punk. After a long time under the hot water, he emerged, clean and new, then dried himself off, went back to his room and put on some clean boxers and pajama bottoms, and climbed into bed.

For a while he lay there, his hands cupped behind his head, thinking of Yugi and his weird golden puzzle. What was that riddle he'd said went with it? Something seen but not seen. What the hell did that mean anyway?

It's simple, Big Brother. It's like you. I don't see you anymore, I don't hear from you, and someday I won't see anything at all. But I'll always see you. I'll see you as that boy who took me to the beach just because I wanted to see the ocean.

Jounouchi started, opening his eyes. It took him a moment to realize he'd been drifting off and that Shizuka's voice in his head hadn't been a memory of something she'd actually said, but rather a sort of half dream.

Something seen but not seen. Her whole life would be that soon. No matter how good it had felt to set things right with Yugi, this hurt. It hurt to think about her eyesight getting worse and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. It hurt to think that he'd failed her and that he'd lost touch with her for two whole years. It hurt to think that he wasn't the person he'd been when he'd last seen her, when he was nine and she was seven and a day at the beach could make everything all right. And he was supposed to take her again. He pinky swore…

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. If he could make it right with Yugi, someone he barely knew, over something so small as a puzzle piece, he could make it right with his sister, too. Getting out of bed, he went over to his closet. It took him fifteen minutes of digging, but he finally found what he was looking for: his old tape recorder. It even had a tape in it. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, and held the tape recorder in his hands as he tried to think of what to say. After a moment, he clicked on the record button.

"Hey Shizuka-chan, it's me. I… I know you haven't heard from me in really long time. Probably thought I was dead or something, huh?" He gave uneasy chuckle. "Things have been kinda messed up here. You know how it is with dad."

He paused, then sighed. "But… that's not right, either, Shizuka. It wasn't dad, it was me. I haven't been right and I was too ashamed to tell you because when I looked in the mirror, I didn't like what I saw, and I didn't want you to see it, too, and I knew you would, even over a recording with just my voice, because you'll always see me, even after…." He stopped again, unable to complete that thought.

"But I think I figured it out. It's like this riddle this guy told me. 'What's something seen but not seen?' That's us. No matter how long we go without seeing each other, I'll always see you in my heart. And if you don't hate me, I hope we can start over. Send me another tape or something; I'd really like to hear from you. I love you and I miss you a lot. And I promise this time I'll send you a tape back.

"I can be better, okay? I can be Big Brother again, the one who took you to the beach and pinky swore I'd take you again. And I will, Shizuka, I promise. Pinky swear."

He clicked the stop button and sat a moment, thinking of Shizuka. And for the first time in two years—maybe the first time in the six years it had been since their mother had taken her away—thinking of her didn't bring him pain. Like doing the right thing, thinking of contacting her again made him feel good.