Shadows That Bleed

by YamiYugiPuzzleshipper

Pure-Bloods are said to be myths, not even well-known within stories. "A specialized genetic coding of the moon and the dire," their spoken lore proclaims. They are creatures beyond the power of mortality, gifted by the gods themselves. Known as the Eternal Ones, their existence once extinguished, resurrection foretells a powerful omen.

9. Pains

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh

Update schedule: Every other day (no update on June 2nd)

Chapter warning: Mentions of Blood, Blood Lust, Predatory Instincts, Personal Fears

Chapter IX: Pains

Work Log Entry IX: March, 1995

March 29

Despite multiple copulations, the she-wolf remains infertile.

We have performed surgery on her human form to implant the embryos to ensure success. Yet none have taken.

Perhaps the alterations we have made to her genetics have rendered her utterly barren?

There was something eerie about the silence that greeted him upon opening his eyes. A cold chill had claimed the air at some point, suffocating and immense as he drew in a breath and felt it weigh upon his flesh like a well-worn jacket. His skin itched and tingled as he reached up to rub his temple briefly where a small but growing pain had disturbed his dream and drawn him into consciousness. It was a small, dull throbbing ache, with a light touch of abrasive familiarity that made his stomach twitch in painful recollection. His belly felt cold and hollow, almost as if a layer of ice coated the inside. A low, distant gurgling rose upwards and a sloshing made him hiss in pain as he rolled over to face the wall. The dull throb grew tenfold until it crashed within his skull with enough pain to make him want to cry out.

Eyes fixed on the wall for a moment, he rallied himself to stretch his legs to their fullest and twist to swing them over the side of the bed. He wondered if maybe this was what a hangover felt like but a violent chill swept over his spine as if he had been doused in water. His blood retaliated by flaring furiously and without warning. The clash of sensation was enough to make him sway on his feet and he staggered sideways just as toes touched the carpet. His other hand clenched against the edge of the mattress, catching him before he could take a topple to the ground.

He braced his weight there, pushing against the furniture and squeezing his eyes shut. Even behind his lids the world seemed to dip and sway, dancing like trickling water among stones. A small buzzing noise seemed to ring and echo within his brain, in time with the roaring burn of his blood where it passed through his veins. Mindlessly he pressed his palm more forcefully against his temple, feeling it twitch against his skin with his aching pulse.

Yugi swallowed back a whimper and moved to drag his feet along the carpet. The fibers itched painfully, tickling him, but the sensation seemed to dissolve moments later, never fully connecting in his brain. His movements were weak and slow, threatening to drive him insane. The gurgle of his stomach grew the smallest bit and then seemed to pull away without warning.

He paused in the doorway to his room, thinking to reach for the knob but stopping himself. The pain twitched and slithered as if slinking along his body and the chill of the room bore down upon him once more. Yugi blinked stupidly at the sensation, unnerved as the entirety of his affliction seemed to pass away with only an aching churn of his stomach and violent jerk of a shiver down his spine.

He stood completely still, aware now that he had been panting the entire time. His breathing grew mild and relaxed once more, evened out as if in slumber, and the chill it brought to his lungs made him want to sob with pleasure. It was horrifically beautiful a sensation, something he was shocked to realize. Standing there frozen mere inches from the door, he found himself almost trembling with the relief of this mundane ability. He wanted almost to sob and laugh pathetically all at once.

It took him several minutes to finally pull himself together enough to grasp the knob in front of him. The metal was so cold he felt every nerve on his palm erupt in an electric shock of ice. He thought briefly of broken glass cutting his skin and he almost laughed at himself again. He sounded pitiful, even to himself, and the most prominent thought beyond that was actually that should he laugh he might sound like a hyena.

He wondered only minutely, slipping through the open doorway and pausing to listen for any sign of his family being awake, if hyenas were related to wolves. He remembered, a vague passing article drifting through his mind like leaves moving in the wind, having once read that they were actually more closely related to felines. He even recalled at the moment, laughing when he saw Anzu's horrified expression when he had told her. She had been disgusted by the idea after having told Honda how much better felines were than canines and Yugi and Honda and Jonouchi had been ecstatic with this information. None of them had really cared much for hyenas, but the conversation had changed from an argument of cats versus dogs when Anzu had commented that hyenas were dogs and foxes were more like cats. She'd used the example as a reason to love cats over dogs when it had been proven instead that the opposite was true. It wasn't entirely true, as hyenas had their own family of classification, but they were believed to be more feliform than caniform.

Yugi tilted his head slightly, listening again, so distracted by his thoughts that he had forgotten his purpose for not going into the kitchen before then. He hardly wanted to run into his mom or grandpa at the moment. He was still waiting for another wave of pain to come on just as it had when he'd awoken. He doubted he would have the ability to pretend he was not in pain should it return and, as such, he was unwilling to go in there without knowing whether he would be alone or not.

"Kasumi…"

He stiffened at the exasperated tone. It was rare to hear his grandfather's voice carrying it and more often than not it was related to only three subjects of conversation. And all of them had to do with him.

"Shoving pills down his throat is not going to help him."

He flinched and glanced at the door that opened to the stairs. He could slip down them and out of the house before they ever even considered the possibility that he might be awake. He was still dressed from earlier that day, after all. He'd been too tired to care about how uncomfortable it would be to sleep in his gray skinny jeans or his socks. The only thing he might need to do was go back and grab the hoodie he had tossed onto his computer chair.

"What else am I supposed to do? He's not eating or sleeping properly. He wanders around restlessly now! His night terrors are back," his mom snapped with a frustrated sigh. Yugi risked a small, swift glance over his shoulder and wondered if grabbing a jacket was truly worth hearing more of the conversation. He knew where it was going, how quickly it might get there. And he hated its path almost more than he did anything else. "If they aren't effective anymore, then they need to be adjusted."

"Do you really want him to go through this again? The medication never works. He's always had those night terrors and they've never exactly stopped them." His grandfather paused and Yugi chewed his lip as he waited for his next statement. "The last time we gave him a raised dosage of his anxiety medication, he was given panic attacks, remember?"

Was he really using that as a backhanded argument to stop her from raising the dosage? That was far from the truth, and all three of them knew it. The panic attacks might have become more frequent when one of his medications was altered, but that had nothing to do with actually causing them.

He watched the doorway unhappily, feeling sick to his stomach as he imagined them sitting at the table together. He pictured them across from each other as they always seemed to be upon beginning this argument. So frequent was it that this was no longer even slightly surprising to hear, even with the combination of the late hour it was commencing in. The lighting was dim where it touched the walls and it made it clear that they had not been awake long. The lights in the kitchen came on dim and grew gradually lighter, just like the ones downstairs in the clinic did.

"They've been helping him," his mom pressed, vice sharp enough to make Yugi flinch. "And they always helped him before he turned twelve, Dad. Sure, there were days where it sometimes did not, but overall it did what it was supposed to. And these last ones have worked the best."

"Or he might have simply pretended they worked so that he would not have to go through this entire process all over again, Kasumi." Yugi swallowed hard, reaching up to bite and chew on his thumbnail. It cracked and broke with a harsh popping noise in his own ears as he blinked and blood filled his mouth where it tore his cuticle. He swallowed hard and shook his head slightly as he tasted the harsh iron of his own blood soaking his tongue. "He knows well enough that all you would have done was drag him to the hospital again and have more pills shoved down his throat. I certainly would never have told you about it if I were him either."

There was a pregnant pause, stretching for a full minute in which he found himself feeling sick to his stomach. When she spoke again, her voice was full of a conviction so fierce that he flinched.

"I know when they do not work. He looks like death when they don't—"

"Maybe he just got tired of pretending that they did. Honestly, I don't think they could have worked at any point. You know how strange the effects medications can have on him are. Perhaps he just decided it wasn't worth hiding it anymore. Or maybe he simply couldn't keep up with the idea of pretending anymore. I don't know. But I don't think they ever worked in the first place, Kasumi."

"So what do you suggest then?" she spat, very clearly losing whatever semblance of patience she had left with the subject at hand. Yugi shook his head slightly and reached up to pull on his bangs unhappily. "What is it that you think I should do for my son? Since you apparently have all the answers, why don't you tell me?"

"I think we should just let him keep going as he is—"

"Did you not just listen to me, Sugoroku?" Yugi flinched and the blood in his mouth seemed to burn and tingle on his tongue like fire. She was using his first name, and he had grown aware of just how bad it was when she did that. "I just said that he isn't sleeping or eating properly, damn it. And you think it's fine to just let him keep going like that? He's not sleeping at all and he's not eating as much as he should be! You're an idiot if you think I'm going to let him—"

"He'll recover on his own. He always does! You've seen him do this before—"

"No, I know that you've watched him do it!" she snarled, and the small teen winced as her palm collided with the table loudly. "I know that you've told me that he has done this before, gotten worse and then come back from it. And then you wonder why I don't let you watch him on your own anymore! You let him get to the point that his teachers called me to ask what happened to him and made me come back early from vacation with my husband!"

Yugi cringed and looked down the hall again, head snapping around and then jerking back to his room once more. He could easily turn and flee inside, grab his jacket and make a run for it before either of them would ever notice. He knew how to sneak out even if it was not something he practiced often.

"So, really, Dad? That's going to be your brilliant answer? That's just great. That's the best answer you could ever give. You want me to continue to let him suffer these horrifying night terrors he has and when they get to the point that he got last time when he was fourteen, then what?"

"How do you even know that they'll get worse? When I let him go through it without all the medication, he seemed to get better!"

Yugi found himself sighing in unison with the harsh one that escaped his mother and shook his head slightly at the idea, closing his eyes. He had almost forgotten about when he was fourteen and his mom had left for a few days with his dad. The two of them had been spending his holiday together because they wanted to celebrate his promotion. Yugi had been unable to go with them due to school but had not wanted to encroach on their time together regardless. So the whole thing had not been much of a problem for him. He had always wanted them to have more time to spend together and so never spent too much time with them on the rare occasion that his dad was home.

However, that time, his medication had run out and he had not wanted to go to his grandfather about it. Rather than say anything, he had ignored it and thus deteriorated. And he knew that his grandfather had been watching him, waiting for him—he had thought back then—to come to him about it. Instead, he realized as he was listening to them, enlightened by the knowledge he'd learned recently, he had been watching and waiting. He had wanted to see the effects of his night terrors when he was out of medication.

The teachers had called his mom when he had nearly had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway on the way to the nurse's office when he had been dismissed because he could not focus and looked sickly. When she had come back, she had always watched her father closely and never allowed him to get too close to him for long handfuls of time. He had rarely been left alone with him, and she had never gone about spending time out of the house for longer than necessary. She called every night if she had to leave the house for any amount of time overnight, especially if he was alone with Sugoroku. She checked his medication, refilled it for him every time that she saw that he was low on any of them.

He realized, however, that she did so because of her fear for him. She had never thought to so much as grumble unhappily about it. She just wanted him safe. She just wanted him healthy. She didn't want him to suffer through unnecessary fear and pain like her father had allowed him to.

"I don't know of any kind of illnesses that can be treated by ignorance."

"Illness?" her father cried incredulously. "Yugi is not ill!"

"Night terrors are considered—"

"No, they are not and you know that! Do not try justifying yourself like that. Night terrors are just that—nightmares, bad dreams. I don't see you taking any medication for nightmares—"

"This is not about me! This is about my son—your grandson—who has been having nightmares since he was five, damn it. This is not. Normal!"

"Well, he is perfectly healthy according to the doctors," his grandfather shot back in annoyance. "So, forgive me for not understanding why you keep freaking out like this. Every time he runs out of medication doesn't mean he needs the dosage raised, Kasumi! All the medication has ever done is make him drowsy and disoriented. And you've left happy because you're under some illusion that it's helping him and you know it's not! All they have ever done is make him unhappy and nervous!"

Yugi turned away and spun on his heel, narrowing his eyes into slits as he headed for his bedroom once more. He ignored them intently as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it over his shirt quickly. He was happy that he had not bothered to change his clothes for that nap he had wound up taking. Even sleeping through dinner could not dampen his gratitude towards this. He pushed his feet into his sneakers immediately and then turned, heading for the stairs again and glancing back only once.

He pulled the knob until it clicked almost silently, easing it open slowly and keeping it twisted completely. He pulled it until it was open halfway, so as not to raise suspicion should one or the other see it, and slipped down the first and second steps. His eyes darted only momentarily where their accusatory tones were growing harsher as he gripped the knob harder. His fingers ached with the force and his palm itched painfully where the smooth brass chafed his skin slightly. He swapped hands, careful that it was still turned, and pulled the door shut again. He released the knob slowly, listening to it slide into place again, and counted off the steps.

He had memorized them long ago and was able to reach the bottom door without issue, without the need to feel along the wall or seek out the small banister. He pushed the door open with the same care he had taken upstairs, and hurried for the entrance. The moment he stepped outside, his lungs welcomed the contrast of the cool air swirling in them like mist, and smiled faintly at the touch.

He was not sure where it was he was headed. He had no plans or sense of direction. He did not have a certain way he wanted to go. He did not question himself as he let his feet lead him down the sidewalk. His eyes unconsciously flickered and settled on the trees running along the other side of the street, the shadows making his mouth feel dry. What was among them, lurking back there, listening and stalking him? Were the wolves hunting him now? Were they there to hunt him like cattle? When would they leap out and attempt to tear his throat out? Would it be on this same sidewalk? Would they kill him in a similar alleyway where Ushio had attempted? Would his alpha opt to save him now or merely turn away? Or perhaps it would be them to kill him.

He glanced at the streetlight for a moment, somehow surprised by the sight of the new bulb. How long had that been there? When had they replaced it? How had he never noticed that it was happening? It was almost directly across from his window; the tree next to the glass did almost nothing to obscure his sight of it. He should have been able to see them as they were doing this. There was no reason he should have missed it, especially with the inevitable amount of noise they would have made, but he supposed he might have been at school or out of the house at the time.

Yugi's eyes wandered slowly further upwards as if drawn by another brilliant white and silver light. It was not dim but it seemed weaker than usual to him and he had to strain his eyes to catch it fully amidst the shadows surrounding it. The waxing moon was overcast by thick clouds, illuminating so little that he was somehow shocked to have even noticed it. A moment passed and his skin seemed to tingle as he continued looking at it. He felt that his mind might as well have been a set of stadium lights as his sight focused on it completely and drew in the details he would have usually missed. When he looked away again, he thought he could make out everything within the darkness around him.

The streets were completely empty due to the late hour and so he was not worried about running into another person. He knew, still, that he could not discount the possibility of wolves around him, lurking and waiting with the simple goal of ripping his throat open. But, as he continued walking, he felt his sense of caution waning for some reason he could not name or even understand. His mind seemed to slow for a minute, doubting now that he might even run into any others. Any wolves in question were not going to come to see him, no longer even slightly fathomable, a thought that he would never doubt or question as suddenly as it had come. There was no negotiation or even a small touch of leeway in its firmness, with so much power to it that he was both stunned and pleased.

However the moment passed quickly, the soothing edge of that thought turning immediately sour. It was not as refreshing as it could have been as he glanced about himself slowly. His hands buried themselves into his jacket pockets and he tipped his head forward again, taking in his surroundings once more. His senses were oddly demure in their offer to seek out threats around him. He was unsure of whether something might have been wrong with his instincts or whether to take it as a clear sign that there was no danger around him.

Not a thing drew his attention safe a cat that yowled and fled when he took a step too close to where it was hiding among some rocks beneath the thin trees across the street from the entrance of the park. He watched, attention undivided, as it loped off running in an awkward, uneven pattern that told him the feline was limping badly.

It did not fully connect in his head that there was such an immense number of stray cats running around Domino like this. He felt that perhaps it should have as he had always known of how little kids like to throw rocks at them and some of them would turn and attack if they had the chance. He had always had the task of catching them with his mom in order to get them spayed or neutered and then put in shelters or amongst rescue groups. Yugi blinked and shook his head slightly with a small smile. He supposed his lycanthropy would be the end of that.

He realized easily that if animals went crazy when Valon was around, then it would only prove a hindrance in terms of helping the felines. He had gotten teeth through his palms and scratches to his face and along his wrists more than he cared to count. He had not cared about it then but he would not mind missing out on that ordeal again. He also wouldn't miss the surgeries on them at any point.

They were so fragile—ironic for their often nasty temperaments—that they needed light anesthetics. In surgery, they mewled with almost every breath. It sounded so painful that Yugi often thought they were still wide awake and could feel it all. The idea had always scared and horrified him to the point that he wanted to flee the moment it was merely suggested he might help out with anything concerning them.

He shook the thought off, watching as the cat disappeared as if swallowed by the darkness. It looked like a small white mist or maybe even the special effects for a ghost on film. It was strange to think of such a thing but its white coat was impossible to miss. Yugi glanced around momentarily, curious as he looked at the part at nighttime. He had never truly been there after the sun had set, but he did memorize it in daytime hours enough to navigate even without the large lampposts set about the edges of it. He recognized the layout without a second thought, walking forward again. He ignored the soft but highly noticeable crackling of the grass flattening beneath his shoes. He wished momentarily that there was night life to greet his ears. The silence safe for the hum of the lights within their glass casings seemed suffocating.

His stomach ached as he continued walking, nearing one of the benches. A small tingle bit at his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to rise. The air seemed colder for a split second and his mouth felt weak as if it might fall open at any moment. His skull felt as if it were being stabbed, temples throbbing painfully. Yugi screwed his eyes shut as he took a seat. His pants were intensely cold the moment his butt touched the metal of the bench. A small sigh left his lips before he fully considered, and a small but blaring cry echoed in his head.

He wanted to snap his eyes open and look around. But he felt weak and exhausted now, unable to do anything more. He breathed in roughly, lungs aching but soothed with the chill the night offered him. Yugi let out a soft, content breath despite the alarms that seemed to make his blood burn furiously within his veins. He kept his eyes closed and a sensation of furthering his thoughts seemed to seep over him. There was a hint of disembodiment that swept over him, almost as if the wind might have passed through and over him.

He could not think of words to describe the foreign sensation, but he did find himself blinking at a new realization. Staring across the park, he swore the grass looked even paler than the coming winter invoked, he heard them in the darkness. There was a single drifting breeze which tugged his hair as if ruffling it affectionately. It brought to him first the sound of the grass and then a scent seemingly coated in medicine and even something akin smoke. It was gone in an instant but it burned itself within his mind as if by a metal branding. Every nerve ending cracking with such force he almost expected to hear it.

It may not have been something he was entirely used to but he knew the sensation and its absolute meaning immediately. A balance had very clearly shifted within his mind. Where his attention may have been split before, it now seemed to pull and focus entirely with the refusal to dismiss any words or shift of weight that might be offered him.

He did not turn his head, however, feeling somehow frozen and exhausted but hyperaware as well.

A soft, raspy breath pushed through the air. He bristled only slightly in response, some small body that seemed to have amazingly avoided the chill that made him so statuesque. A deliberately loud snap of noise burst forth from the same direction. Impulse spoke of a flinch. Instinct spoke of his frozen state. Somehow, despite his surprise at such a noise, his body remained completely still. Frozen and watching his breaths come out in gentle white puffs, Yugi found that they had not changed in even the slightest. Every second a new cloud crept past his nose in clear defiance of the darkness.

Yugi resisted a shudder at his own infallible calm state.

"That's not him."

It was so simple a statement that he almost turned his head in question.

"He would have heard us and turned his head." There was a small pause, as if the speaker were questioning the statement himself, and then the words seemed to taste just right enough to continue. "He was always skittish and couldn't fight to save his life. He would have jumped up and fled by now—"

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak."

It was only as he listened to this second statement, an irate sneer, that he became aware of just how unnatural the first voice sounded. It was strained but still pulsated with power and cunning arrogance. Its undertone was rough and scratchy, and its overtone was gruff and gravelly. He thought briefly of smoker lungs and the boxes put in their throats when throat cancer damaged their vocal chords. But this second voice was as thick as honey, with a deep and harmonious edge that made his words all the more scornful. And, as his mind picked at these small differences, Yugi recognized something else.

The raw strength in that damaged voice was that of a werewolf. The second was that of a human, a familiar one but still a human's all the same.

"Oh? And what do you think you are going to do about it? Do you really think that little gun of yours will protect you forever? Give me one shot to tear that pale throat of yours out, and it is all over. Just one chance."

"It's almost comical that you truly believe that you could actually kill me."

"I could have that first time. If it were not for all those unfortunate interferences."

"All of that voltage in your system was enough to kill an African elephant. You dropped like a rock." The voice paused, sounding at first wistful and then terribly amused. Yugi fought back the urge to cringe and flee, his curiosity and a mounting fear keeping him rooted to the spot. "It's really rather a shame that it did not kill you that day."

He frowned slightly, his lips tugging down just enough that it would hopefully be unnoticeable to whomever it was observing him. He was glad that his fingers were splayed across his cheeks, cutting off any direct sight of his facial expression. He had no idea how well they might be at reading body language but he did not think he was truly showing any of his distinct unease. But he could almost use the placement of his fingers to understand and identify which direction it was they were watching him from, though it still seemed questionable in every sense as he struggled to pinpoint them exactly.

He blinked slowly, doing faithfully as his instincts bid him. His eyes flickered slowly in lazy movements, trailing from one side of the park to the other. The position of his fingers gave him two new blind spots, blocking away his very peripheral, but it didn't bother him. Had they been within his range of sight, who was to say he wouldn't stare at them despite how furiously his mind rebelled such a thought? It was hardly a good idea to let them know he was aware of them.

The human had a gun—whether it was only an electric taser or not, he was unsure—and the werewolf was another issue entirely. A human and a wolf would have dropped dead long before a voltage got to the point of killing an elephant. The werewolf, however, was very much alive considering his ability to speak despite the obvious damage done to his vocals. With the certainty of which he spoke with such open threat of killing the human, he did not think the damage was more extensive than that. Maybe he had a small limp or his thoughts were sometimes somewhat sluggish, but he doubted it was too life-altering.

And that had to be one of the most horrifying things he had ever thought in his lifetime.

African elephants stood at ten to thirteen feet tall and weighed up to fifteen thousand four hundred pounds. Wolves only weighed up to one hundred and eighty pounds, standing at thirty-two inches at the shoulder. Humans, with seven feet at their tallest, only weighed two hundred and seventy-five at the most.

Even if the werewolf were seven feet tall, he should not have been able to survive that. The combined weight of the human and wolf was nowhere near even half of the immense body mass that made up the African elephant. He should have been long dead unless something in his blood had saved him somehow. Yugi had felt those powerful endorphins when his own body was healing but he did not think it was possible that they might save him from a blast of electricity. Was it possible that the wolf's heart had started again after the initial hit? Or had they maybe revived him for some reason? Or…were they truly immortal then?

He wanted to shudder, but his body remained forebodingly still as if controlled by a foreign entity.

"Nothing to say?"

"You are not worth wasting my breath."

There was a long, pregnant silence, and Yugi shifted just enough to press his weight more fully into his elbows where they touched his knees. He tilted his head a small bit more, narrowing his eyes faintly as he concentrated a little harder. The movement and strain of his senses was just enough to catch the whisper of noise that pronounced the action of one of them releasing a small huff of displeasure.

"He's a Pure-Blood," the second voice said slowly, as if sampling the words. They paused, and small teen swore he could hear the uncertainty and growing hesitance in his smooth tone as he continued. "He knows how to make himself appear more human. That is what all werewolves were born to do. They can adapt like no other creature, just like natural wolves. It is the way of the wolf. You adapt to survive or you will die. There is nothing between."

The werewolf's voice rose in a hideously and sharpened gravelly laugh that made him swallow hard to avoid flinching. Its tone was bitter and vicious; with such an edge it put a knife to shame. "Or that could simply be a human," it snarled mockingly. "You waste my time with this game. He does not even smell as if he might change. And the Pure-Bloods are forced to change on the full moon. It is approaching quickly enough that the signs would show now—"

"No one said that you could speak."

"Tell me, do you like having one eye? Would you like to go blind, human?"

"I think your wolf is right," said a third voice, easily cutting away any rebuttal the other may have been preparing. Yugi felt the marrow in his bones grow ice cold, his spine aching as it began to tighten and his mind screamed at him with the impulse to flee. This new voice seemed to slip into his very core, turning his blood to ice as the deep timbre reverberated harshly within his ears. It seemed to come from the belly, full with a passion built of life and amusement. Every nerve within his body burst with fire as alarm made his head pound as if counting down to explosion. "He should be anxious and restless, should he not? If he were to change…"

"Who is to say that he isn't?" the second voice cut in so angrily that Yugi thought he might be frothing at the mouth. "What other explanation could there possibly be for his being here? It's almost two in the morning and no regular human would want to be out in an abandoned park of all places."

"It's called walking," the wolf scoffed in loud dismissal. The sarcastic edge of his voice made Yugi's lips quirk only at the very corners, though he held himself as completely still as he could. "I hear that humans tend to that on occasion. I know that you and your fat ass friend might not do it often, but it happens sometimes. Or maybe he's seeing the sights. I hear they like to do that too…if they have two good eyes."

The small teen wanted instantly to laugh at the mocking undertone of the dismissive statement. It was both horrifying and relieving in the most horrendous of ways to hear something being said of that nature. The threat beneath it all was nothing he would have liked to hear again, but the simplicity of his tone was so ironic that he could ignore his natural instinct to flee.

Yugi squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples for a moment, sighing in harsh frustration. He shouldn't have been amused in the slightest. He was being watched by three people, one of which was a wolf with no hesitation towards spilling blood. He imagined that, had it the chance, it would rip his throat out without a hint of trepidation considering the casualness with which it threatened the human's eye. He would not have been surprised if he bore witness to the man's screams if it turned on him suddenly.

But, as he considered it, the wolf also seemed to be trying to defend him. Why else would it say that he did not smell as if he might change? The wolf had even alluded to an inability to as an average human. And Yugi did not doubt for even a second that he could tell. Valon and Amelda had seemed to without even truly trying, just as he had smelled the chemical imbalance in the former only days before. Was it a true possibility that he wasn't going to change?

There was something in that very thought that made an inexplicable wave of emotion come over him. But Yugi recognized it almost immediately as well and the reality of it made it all seem even more irrefutable than it had been only moments before. The shame was crushing and forceful, causing him almost to choke on the sharp air he was breathing in. It was unfathomable to consider just how beyond hope and out of reach it all seemed.

A clarity came over him abruptly as he blinked his eyes open enough to look between his lashes across the cut grass. The trees cast low, dark shadows across the yellowed stalks where it looked dead rather than light and unusually vibrant as some areas appeared. The virus was there in his veins, controlling his senses and manipulating his instincts. It held him there like a shackled prisoner, forcing him to listen and hear what he did not want to. Its hold on his thoughts was loose but vicious, deepening with the circulation towards its own disgusting existence.

He could not understand why it was that they sat there, watching and waiting. If they wanted to observe him, weren't there more inconspicuous ways to go about it? Was there not some way for them to watch and even abduct him without so much warning? But what was the point? Why should they watch him, someone so small and all but meaningless in the world? Did they have a reason? Did it have to do with being called a "Pure-Blood" as they'd mentioned? And did that name or phrase—title, perhaps—have to do with what Valon was so terribly hateful of?

He abruptly shot to his feet. His stomach tensed, twisting painfully, and his heart raced disgustingly. A sense of dizziness threatened to knock him off his feet and his mouth felt dry as he swallowed thickly. He thought he might drop, his body seemingly weighted as he attempted to take a step. A gust of wind tugged at his clothes, cutting through the threads with the efficiency of a knife. He shivered before he could think to stop himself, and his shoulders rose to shield his neck from the next blast of wintry wind.

"There's your proof," the werewolf growled, voice disgusted. "He's nothing but your average pathetic human. No wolf would have shivered—not when they're so close to the Change. He'd be so hot he wouldn't even feel it. He's just human. And you two are morons."

---

He checked his bag a second time. The tan and brown sack looked incredibly small and yet somehow too large in size. He recognized it despite himself, his cowardice and mounting fear which refused to release him. The reality of this disease was far too vast to be contained and, yet, he still was attempting to come to terms with it. It had, slowly but surely, been a concept that was becoming reality. He had essentially been coming to terms with that despite the fear it brought him.

Yugi stared at the boy for only a moment longer and then dropped it to the recesses of his mind, desperate to smother its very existence. The morning had seemingly drawn itself out and several times he had almost thought dawn would last forever. The time had passed somehow, despite how slowly and warped his perception of keeping it. He got up again, satisfied with his preparations at last. His mother and grandfather had left the house a while back, hours before, and though he had lingered Yugi was anxious to leave before they returned and explanation was needed.

There was no true explanation he might be able to spin with enough realism to merit their belief. He had sent them both messages that he would be with Jonouchi all day. He had even texted the blond to play his alibi should either of them ask him. He'd agreed easily enough, though he argued that he wanted to know when they were at the festival.

Spinning his house key on his index finger, the small teen snatched the backpack by its strap and pulled it up. His eyes flickered briefly to the window's glass where the slight glare of sun against its surface made his head spin minutely. The sky was bright, with such intensity it made him flinch, the blue as light as the clouds.

He spun on his heel, tossing a strap over his right shoulder, and hurried for the stairs. He had been awake since an hour before dawn had even begun to touch the sky and since then he had been unable to sleep. His eyes had ached since the very moment they had opened completely and he had watched the room grow from royal blue to the familiar gentle sky of his painted walls.

As he made his way through the house, the intensity of the colors made his head pulse faintly. The hallway was a deep and lively red-violet of which looked faintly like vibrant flames within the corners of his aching vision. The white door he opened in order to slip down the stairs was as blinding as headlights at night. The staircase was an odd but beautiful orange that seemed only a shade away from gold, the carpet lining the steps something akin that of red clay or the sand from Australia. He'd only ever seen it in movies but the color always reminded him strictly of that imagery. He'd always considered the multiple colors in the house to be soothing before but now he wished they were all muted and dull, maybe simply gray.

Pain bloomed behind his eyes and he barely resisted the urge to press his fingers into his temples pathetically. Exhaustion still pulled on his limbs and dragged at his senses, heightened by the intensity of the colors pushing on his eyes. They seemed to smother him, killing away all of his awareness but his vision where it caused the muscles behind his eyes to throb violently. His hearing seemed impossibly nonexistent, as if stuffed with cotton balls. His sense of taste had become nothing more than a flat and disgusting odorous heat which burned his tongue.

His nerves felt numb, tingling and displaced as his fingertips lost all hints of feeling. And his nose felt as if it had been stuffed completely, aching at the top as if his sinuses were blocked, leaving no room to breathe in anything that might have lingered about the house.

He squinted against the sunlight that touched the tile in front of him as he hurried to make it through the door. It would be seven days before the full moon came about, but the conversation he'd overhead buzzed within his ears.

It echoed within the confines of his seemingly swollen skull. Was this sudden restlessness and disorientation of his usually keen senses a sign of the Change coming?

His dizziness only grew as he continued forward, throwing the door open. The fresh air, cold and icy, swept through him, past even the horrible pain of his nose. For a split second it seemed to clear it all away rather effectively and then it was instantly gone again. The painful clogs came back and his head began to feel even more smothered and claustrophobic.

When he blinked he felt as if his eyes might burn away entirely. The light against the pavement seemed to glow as if the asphalt were nothing more than the painted hoods of cars. He squinted, judging his odds of being able to move about within the streets to find his hiding spot. It was a little faster if he used the road and alley to pick his way to the little cavern. It wasn't as far from the city limits as he had originally wanted, and he could surely follow his own scent back if he suddenly chose to. He still did not know what this experience might be like, whether he would have control or not. He had eaten heavily, hoping that his hunger would not return so that he might find his way back to the city for easy prey. But the small cavern had seemed like the best place for him to go.

Looking at the road again and then the buildings in the background, looming upwards on either side, he knew immediately that he would not be able to do it. The very sight of that once potential path was too blinding and it made his head pulse as his vision spun violently. Even squinting he could not shield himself from its hideous impact. As he turned towards the trees, the shadows from the canopy of leaves offered a strange and beautiful shelter from it all. The greens were harsh, sharpened to the point of a blade's edge, especially where the light touched the bright leaves. The bark seemed to glint like shards of ice, painted paler than dull brown. A rock on the floor of the forest seemed to glitter, refracting the light like a pool's surface.

Yugi only glanced back once before heading across the street hurriedly. His movements seemed still to be too slow. Unable to hear even his own sneakers against the pavement with such muddled senses, he almost felt he was not even moving. It was only the way that the trees seemed to be coming closer that assured him of his progress, the way that the light from the asphalt appeared to be vanishing from the immense strip it had once been. It did not help that he almost could not feel it when his shoes touched the ground, his balance uniform despite the lack of sensation. His fingers tingled more as he traced the material of his bag's strap where it hung over his shoulder.

The shade gave him instant relief, the extra chill from the shadows cast making him want to smile. The light green of the leaves overhead cast beautiful dappled patterns and he momentarily thought he recognized three different shades of color. He could see many of the veins from the leaves, like tiny threads of a spider's web. The trees' bark was still pale, almost as if the color had been stripped away by the winter. He lowered his eyes towards the floor, looking over the browned leaves and brittle pine which had been shed. Small twigs and rocks looked oddly defined despite the darkness which painted them tan and gray. The usually immense undergrowth was weak and brittle, yellowed and browned as if they might shatter at any moment.

Yugi turned his attention away, hoping that his sense of direction would not be rendered useless to this new intensity his sight had adapted. He hoped his senses would not ruin his navigation. Becoming lost in the woods was not something he really cared to do. A wolf would surely find and kill him if that was ever a true possibility. And then his body might not even be discovered for weeks or months on end. Or, considering how small he really was, maybe they would simply eat him in all his entirety.

The pine needles seemed like pillows as he continued walking. The lack of touching the earth as fully as he would have otherwise made him want to curl up on his side uncomfortably, attempt to sleep the day away like he might a simple everyday headache. It was so unnatural that he almost thought the temperature had dropped and he had become hypothermic, tempted to test his own dexterity. He considered it briefly and then immediately dismissed it. When he had checked the weather it had been nowhere near such temperature and had only truly had the wind chill to consider.

He calculated that it would take about an hour to find his way there, with fifteen minutes trimmed by way of using the alley shortcut to find his way there. It was a small spot that he knew of and had never shown the others despite the years that he had been known of and sometimes visited it. It was deep in the woods and within the base of the mountain, almost within the very center of the slope. It was overrun with lichen and the cavern itself was almost filled completely with a strange upturned rock, giving room only to the very back and sides of the small area. Around the granite stone the earth was smooth and painted a deep earthy reddish-brown like clay but as soft as sand to the touch.

Someone walking by would have easily overlooked it. It simply looked like a rock jutting up and the small cavern was hardly noticeable when someone went to inspect it a little closer. He himself had never thought to look at it until he had been following a wounded dog through the woods by its blood trail. It had been shot and made its way there in a full sprint, long dead before he had even caught up to it. He'd been twelve and had found it laying there in a way that suggested it had slipped and fallen at the rock's side. Its tail had been the only thing that he had seen that day. That was the only reason Yugi had even noticed the small cavern, which he thought sometimes looked like a bear's den.

He did not think that anyone else knew of it beyond wild animals. And he was sure, had a wolf been following him, it would not have taken long to find its entrance and thus him as well. Wolves were known for trekking their territories at eight miles an hour. The thought of that was enough to make him wonder just how much faster the werewolves were. What if, when the wolf took over, it treaded into the woods and outwards back to the city where he would kill someone? And what if the Wiccan beliefs were true and he was condemned to the same thing every week of the full moon?

Yugi shook his head slowly and the pain seemed to burst behind his eyes with the movement. When he swallowed hard in an attempt to smother the whimper creeping into his lungs, it felt as if he were attempting to consume rusted nails. An acrid burn touched the back of his tongue but the disgusting taste still did not leave his mouth.

He wished pathetically that it was closer to sunset. He wished for a moment that there was only enough light to find his way there and nothing more. It took only that thought to give him the smallest of the silver lining he had been searching for that entire morning around his headache. The lycanthropy would only be triggered by a full moon, by the moon itself, and never the sun.

He would never have to worry he might turn into a wolf in the middle of the day. He would never have to plan for it to happen before he was able to lay his eyes on the source of his Changes. It was as if is new disease had come with a strange but peaceful security blanket.

His lips threatened to tug at the irony but something seemed to move within his periphery. He froze in place now, entire body still as he drew in a sharp breath. He had not heard anything coming up behind him or smelled another within the area. His internal alarm had not gone off as it should have. But he immediately recognized that it was another wolf.

He had failed to recognize the color that had caught his eye, whether it was anything like clothing or rough fur. For a moment he was unable to convince himself it was worth the risk of looking over, but the decision was abruptly made for him. Another movement within his periphery made his head turn so sharply that he and this newcomer both clearly heard the snap of his vertebrae.

His eyes caught a clothing material, the fibers so bright he had to squint in order to avoid being blinded. His sight was so caught on the strands that he could see a small frayed end brought by constant wear. He had even caught a single, small thread pulled just beneath that spot. And then it was immediately gone once more.

For a moment he was frozen, mind struggling to catch up with the information it had gathered. For a split second he did nothing, unable to do anything more than stare after the spot that the color had faded into the forest. Then a new idea sprang into his thoughts, forcing everything else away, and he raced after the small bit of color. The spot of teal burned within his mind, vibrant and bursting forth, and his head throbbed painfully with the movement.

He had expected the chase to take longer. Rather, as he rounded the large tree trunk, he found the other stopped a couple of steps ahead of him. For a moment he was confused, blinking against the urge to double over and vomit. His nerves were shot, exploding with pain. His eyes hurt so much that he had to squeeze them shut and press his fingers into his temples.

The throbbing had returned to his head. His sense of taste came with a tingling sensation, and he faintly remembered his breakfast of sandwiches and bento. His ears popped and ached, and he could hear a squirrel in the treetops, racing about, birds singling lonely songs, and the harshness of his own breathing. He swallowed hard, forcing away the bile creeping up his throat.

He could hear something else now, however. It was solid, with the softest of echoes, and it sounded wet and powerful. It was twisting, and for a second it seemed almost hollow. It was steady, however, and the softer wisps of noise that met him were almost in sync. They came in such small, almost unnoticeable edges like a gentle breeze, but with such frequency that it made his skin crawl briefly.

His eyes shot open when clothing rustled. For a moment he thought the other would make a run for it. But, immediately, Yugi's gaze fell on them again. They had not moved but a gentle twist of their neck.

Their head had turned just enough to look at him. Their eyes were dark, framed by long lashes so thick they blocked the color of their gaze. Their head tipped towards him. Their jaw was strong, pronounced. The collar of their jacket blocked away the sight of their neck.

Yugi recognized the scent that drifted towards him slowly. It was that of summer winds and autumn leaves attached to a cedar tree. And it burned at his subconscious as he tilted his head in wonder. A small lightheadedness, brought by his growing confusion, began to sweep through his skull, almost pushing away all sense of the pain from its former throbbing.

The other suddenly spun around to face him. The small teen gained his presence in fragments. First he saw the long legs and slim hips. There was the waistband of black skinny jeans. There were the tongues of some flat-soled shoes. Then there was a narrow wrist and a torso clothed in gray cotton. There was a neck covered in smears of blood. The skin was a warm complexion, a mix between a tan and cream. The nails were long and overgrown, thick and full. There were no nicks or cracks. But something covered the wrists…

Yugi blinked and stared blankly as his mind tried to concentrate on what he was seeing. It was white and wrapped securely, showing off prominently the shape of their narrow bones. The fibers were thick, laced together expertly. The edges were cut, pressed into their skin. There was a layer on top of the first.

It took him a moment to understand that he was looking at medical tape. It was oddly pristine despite the blood on their fingers. Not a single bit was smeared or soaked. And the edges of the jacket they wore were pressed by constant wear but neither supported even a hint of the bright red liquid.

He blinked again and his attention shot upward. Their neck was still covered and smeared, but the wound was completely gone. When he looked up, he found that their jaw was sharper and narrower than his own. The cheekbones were higher set, almost just beneath the eyes.

The other werewolf spun around again. A small inhale alerted him that it was scenting the air. Two long exhales left it and then the wolf started forward without a second glance.

"W-wait," he managed to choke out. The concept of being alone was suddenly and inexplicably horrifying and terrible. He could not grasp what had changed but he felt it. He didn't think he truly cared, however, so shaken by the idea that he couldn't wrap his mind around it fully.

The other paused with the heel of its right shoe against the ground, posed to continue walking. They stayed silent, not turning their head to look again, but they didn't walk either. Yugi realized they were listening for his voice, waiting, but that they would not turn around again. For whatever reason, this caught Yugi's attention more than even his sudden appearance.

And that was the only realize he realized another reason he had not noticed the other's eyes. They had their jacket hood pulled over their head completely as if they were attempting to block out whatever bit of sunlight reached them through the trees. But it was not something that held his attention anymore than if he was merely looking at Jonouchi during class.

"Are you hurt? I saw your wrists…" He trailed off, unsure of what else there was to say. A small wave of confusion crept along his bones as he watched the other. They were completely still in front of him, frozen, but then began walking again. The small teen sprang forward, immediately hurrying after him, but froze in incredulousness as the other broke into a full spring at the sound of his approach.

Why was he running? Yugi huffed softly, frustrated but also forcing away some of the fear in his gut. And then he took off after them. Pain ricocheted from each part of his body. His heart pulsed with it instead of blood, pushing it through every cell. His head throbbed and burned, and it steadily pushed through to his shoulder, his chest, along his arm, and to the very center of his collarbones. He whimpered at the sensation, nearly stumbling, and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

It occurred to him, as he almost went sprawling across the forest floor, that he would not catch up with him. It took almost two of his strides to make up for the other's one with the speed they ran. It was almost as if their feet did not even touch the ground when they ran, and for a moment Yugi hated them for the speed they possessed. He stared after them, no longer running, and his ears rang faintly. He had struggled to keep his hearing trained on the other, and, despite his fest efforts, he could almost not even catch their racing feet.

The wind had grown so still that unless he put his nose to the ground, he would no longer be able to smell this newcomer. He turned his head to look around, expecting the sharp light to make him cower. However, now he saw it with such average human senses that it made him feel sick and yet happy all at once. For a moment he thought to chase the other, but with the speed they ran, he doubted he would ever gain ground on them. So, instead, he spun on his heel, looking about him slowly.

How long had they been running? How far had he gone from his own path? Would it be easier for him to find his way back if he did lower his nose to the ground and try to track himself?

He had only ever wandered these woods in order to reach that small cavern. When it came down to it, it was easy enough for him to get lost, and much harder for him to find his way again. He had never been extraordinary with his direction, but he had always managed when it was needed. Had he not strayed far from his path? His mind scrambled for a landmark, but none was offered.

It took him several minutes to find his way back, his mind abruptly but surely supplying him with the fact that he was back on track. He felt like he had been moving for hours. The throb in his arm and collarbone had disappeared completely. His tongue felt as if it had been coated in stomach acid once more, the taste bitter and hideous. His sense of touch had returned to that numbness, without tingles or heat to spark his nerve endings.

His nose burned with the scent of autumn leaves and summer winds even as the ache returned and his nasal passages seemed to shut harshly again his hearing was last to go, and the final thing that met his ears was that of a squirrel lunging into a branch overhead, chattering loudly as the twig snapped where its paw landed. His sight took in harsher colors again, and the brightness made his head spin once more as he continued forward.

Several times he glanced over his shoulder. At first he thought it was curiosity that made him do so. He thought maybe he suspected the other wolf would reappear. But, it was as he got towards the cavern that it occurred to him. Someone was watching him, with such intensity that it made his mind flare with paranoia just enough to make his instincts come to life. He looked twice about himself before approaching the large stone.

Yet, the wolf was there, lingering and watching him with an intense stare as the small teen dropped into the small dip of earth behind the stone. They sat on a long, thin branch, right leg dangling over the side as it kicked the air lazily with the other bent so that the sole of their shoe pressed firmly into the bark there.

The air stirred lazily, the temperature slowly dropping, but the boy had yet to come forth. Another hour passed and the wolf shifted only to alleviate some of the stiffness in his bent knee. A squirrel scampered by, a bird let out a low chirp, and the sound of a heavier animal—which he assumed to be a bear—made its way through his keen senses. Most notable, however, was the gentle breaths the other let out from beneath the dirt. With the cavern so small and enclosed, his heart was even loud enough that it was much alike thunder rolling through the sky on dark clouds.

The wolf leaned back against the trunk, blinking lazily. A fly drifted through the air a few inches from his nose, miniscule and black. A growl built up in his chest, disinterested but annoyed as well, and it was swatted harshly from the air with a flick of the wrist. The bark dug into the pads of his fingers, small bits of wood splitting the skin when the nails tugged upwards in gentle impatience.

The edges of nighttime tugged at his awareness long before the boy poked his head back out. The sky was darkening slowly, the air changing. A shift seemed to come over the small bit of forest around them. A small but meticulous humming began to come from the bark overhead and the familiarity of its presence was easily sourced to a black beetle by memory. The rougher touch of the bark, formerly heated, began to grow softer and easier beneath their fingers which gently stroked at the surface. The shadows tilted and lurched, stretching across the ground and growing darker as the light overhead began to turn purple and dark blue.

Small patches of black were visible where the trees' density was lessened somewhat. Sparks of glittering white illuminated the darkness with such power even the moon seemed put to shame. A twist of the head brought to sight the nearly fallen orb, the leaves painted bluish-green with the veins highlighted in thick, fractured lines. A single drop of water pooled at the end of a twig, dancing with surface light which glistened beautifully. The reflection of it made the wolf's eyes ache momentarily before the pain was pushed away instantly.

Movement in his periphery made his head turn. The boy had finally stirred, head poking out as a deep frown made the expression of his youthful face. The wolf twisted in his spot on the branch, drawing himself into a fully upright position. His head tilted, studying, and his eyes narrowed curiously as the bark pressed into his palms where they wrapped firmly around the branch. Nails dug into the bottom once more as the right leg was swung outwards and a puff of breath became crystallized and glistened in front of his face upon releasing a soft sigh.

The boy's head swung towards the other. Wide blue-violet eyes glowed faintly, not yet possessing the full capability of night vision that others of their kind did. The small body had grown tense, and a deep sweet scent seemed to heat the air, rippling through the area as fear might.

The leg kicked again but the boy could not focus on it. In the growing darkness, those mostly human eyes saw only shadows and leaves, blocking his line of sight. The wolf smiled faintly, watching him as he continued to stare and strain his eyes, struggling as his shoulders rose minutely in paranoid confusion. Finally, relenting, his shoulders fell and his eyes turned away to mark the path that he would be walking once more.

The wolf twisted around to watch him go, alert with new energy. The night air seemed fresher, cool and crisp, and the boy's worry still tainted the atmosphere, but he did not look up again. Instead he faded away into the shadows as the other werewolf pushed his right leg against the trunk of the tree and threw his upper body over the side. Nails scraped bark, which tore and fell easily beneath it, palms pressing firmly into the wood even as his lower body swung gently in the air.

He landed hard on the cold earth, crouching for only a moment as he drew in a deeper breath to scent the air. The boy's scent was smothered by the chill of the air, brushed away like leaves on the forest floor. The wolf turned away again, stretching his limbs out and starting forward as a tingle traveled up his stiff legs. Sniffing tentatively at the entrance of the cave, a rush of lost body heat and tugs of rainwater and summer sunlight and stronger traces of soap, deodorant and shampoo met his senses. It lingered all over within the little cavern, tempting the thought that perhaps the boy would use it as a little safe haven until the full moon came.

The wolf pulled away just enough to glance about, considering the question with new curiosity. If the boy had come this far into the forest, he had to have reason. It was going to be his first Change, after all, and he must have wanted to be cautious and keep everyone else safe as well. He had no experience due to being bitten and his precautions were understandable.

Another sniff drew in chilled air that held no hints of another predator or any potential threats to be sensed. Nothing stirred in the darkness safe for the gentle buzz of a bug as it flew past, the shifting of pine needles as a scavenger dug through, and the rough breaths of a bear as it hunted. There was nothing in the direction of the little cavern, either safe for a small strand of chemicals that made up the odor of the boy's perspiration.

Abruptly his attention turned towards the rock when a beetle scampered across its surface, barely detectable in color against the shadows of it. The surface was mottled with gentle moonlight, making it glitter, and the shift of the leaves made it look like the surface of a shimmering pool. Something inside of the wolf stirred, causing him to climb to his feet slowly and take several steps back to look at it slowly. It was nondescript, ambiguous in its shape, but something caused the wolf's nerves to spike with fire, senses flaring with confusion.

Something about the way the shadows hit the surface made it look disturbingly familiar and far too large. It seemed to rise upwards as the leaves shifted and moved overhead, rustling gently, and loom over the wolf with such force it almost knocked the air from his lungs. A distinct image was slowly weaseling its way forward, something with rounded ears and a muzzle, and moss speckled within the shadows as if fur were shifting with the touch of wind.

Lips pulled back, he tossed his head away sharply once more. A pain clenched tightly around his heart. The moonlight hit the rock in such a way that the moss looked almost bright blue-green. The smaller shadows cast by the little plant almost looked like a large and slanted pupil. The werewolf turned abruptly and raced for the trees before his stomach clenched and heaved.

It looked like a wolf with bright green eyes.

---

His vision tweaked and pinched. Yugi clenched his eyes shut tightly, turning his head to bury it into the pillow. His stomach twisted painfully even as he opened his left eye into a narrow slit of dark violet and blue. His vision swam but righted itself once more, though now there was such blurriness that the wall looked almost like a smear of bright pain. The numbers on the clock only inches from his bed were fuzzy, nearly showing doubles though he could not fully read them properly. The slant of the wall seemed to tower and lurch towards him as he raised his eyes. The sunlight was dull and weak, a drastic change to the blinding intensity it had possessed formerly. The edges of the glass lilted and seemed to angle towards the floor as if the window had grown lopsided overnight.

He swallowed a whimper and moved his hand to press his palm against his eye. An instant heat curled through him, mixing with his blood, and every part of his body grew flushed to the point of sharp pain. He could feel the fever like a layer of clothing, escaping through his pores and lingering just above his skin. He groaned and his free hand moved to grasp at his stomach.

A tremor shattered through his left side, vibrating in his right arm as gnawing pain tunneled its way into his chest. It came again ten more times before it simply remained in an exact trace of his former wounds. His body throbbed with the dull remnants of an aftershock. He pushed his shoulder into the pillow as fully as he could and breathed out roughly, head taking on the same familiar throbbing as the day before.

He moved to blink his eyes open again and when he groaned this time, it felt as if thunder were crashing through his skull. The sound reverberated through the air and it was everywhere. He flinched but the scraping of his skin against the pillowcase, the blankets, and the shift of the mattress made him want to wail pitifully. And this new sound hit the walls, the glass, the headboard, ricocheted, and tore through his eardrums again. There was no escaping the noise, though his body instinctively jerked away and upright. The sheets rustling and his own eyelids clapping together made him whimper once more. The noise was low and curdling with pain, but a dam seemed to break within his head.

His cry echoed, there were voices, fabric brushing against skin, cars driving in the distance, children squealing, the wind hissing, gavel crunching under tires, feet pounding on the sidewalk. Birds sang, a lone cricket chirped, a cat pounced, a mouse squeaked. Yugi moved his hands to his ears, clamping them there. He wished he were deaf, that he could hear nothing as he had been rendered before. He wanted to be blind and deaf.

"Yugi?"

The voice pierced the cacophony of the clashing noises which resonated in his head, coming to him like a pair of knitting needles stabbed through his ears and into his brain. Unable to help himself, he groaned, blinking and trying to see, wishing he could smother the noise, but he couldn't even fully understand it all.

He wanted, more than anything, to move away from all the sound, and the moment he thought it, his body shot forward and his side crashed into a hard surface. He swallowed the cry of pain in his lungs and clawed at the air in reflex as if attempting to regain his balance. He landed hard on his ass and his tailbone flared momentarily with pain.

He barely resisted the urge to scream, tempted to let out this growing panic which washed his insides like icy water. Something in his mind seemed to cave and splinter, shattering like glass. It ached within him as well but it gave way to something that he had not realized before then. There was no erratic thumping which rushed through him violently, pushing at the edges of the noises already swallowing his thoughts.

It echoed and twisted, with a liquid slosh that came at the end. The throbbing in his head came forward full force.

He blinked, his vision dull and distorted, but it did not stunt his realization.

That hideous, thundering ache in his head was not that of a simple budding migraine as his medications sometimes gave him.

It was his heartbeat.

"Yugi!"

He swallowed and the pull of muscles was as loud as a river rushing by. But even that did not kill away all of the outside noise. And he recognized the softness of a hand grasping a doorknob with such clarity that he almost imagined it was a gun being cocked next to his head.

"Yeah?"

He cringed. Had he yelled the response? Everyday control of his volume said he was simply speaking, however. But his voice was so loud, horrific in the way it caused his head to mimic the sensation of bursting painfully. And he swore it sounded far too foreign and cracked in pitch to be his. He hardly recognized the breath as it left his mouth, a new horror sweeping through his mind.

What if his entire body became nothing but a foreign, alien prison? What if his mind became trapped in this single, sensory overloaded body and he couldn't navigate it by any will of his own? And what if his reflexes were too much to control or his senses too powerful to survive with? What if he went insane due to an inability to deal with it all?

"Are you okay?"

Had her voice always sounded like that? Yugi was unable to shake the shock from his system at such a thought. His mind was thinking of wind chimes and glass tinkling against linoleum. Her voice was just as soft but not musical as he had sometimes considered it. Mostly all he could hear was the apparent concern which soaked the words as if honey had been drizzled over them.

No doubt if he had not answered she would have walked in there to check on him. He wondered if perhaps she thought he was ill, if he'd had a reaction to the medication. But it was a short-lived thought as he blinked and chewed his lip. What would she see if she came in there and saw him? Would she see the alien body he swore he was caught in, or just her son scared and alone on the floor with panic which still threatened to swallow him?

"Yeah. Just…I…fell out of bed," he called back, falling silent after a moment and feeling sick. He supposed, if nothing else, that explained the thud she must have heard. It also probably explained away his whimper. But what explained his need to let out such an animalistic noise to voice his discomfort? Hitting his side and crashing to the floor hardly seemed a reason. Then again, had she even heard him? With the way he could hear his heart and hers now that his mind was running like this, who was to say that she had not simply heard a grunt?

There was a moment of silence as far as her voice was concerned. But the world around him was a massive blister of noise. Their hearts filled any ounce of quiet the outside might have possessed, alternating between each other so that one's end was the other's beginning. Yugi shifted his weight and the rustle where his clothing brushed the floor and the fibers of the carpet being pressed down was almost as powerful as an engine coming to life right next to his ear. He clamped his teeth into his hand to prevent a small cry leaving his lips.

"How did you sleep?"

Was she hesitating?

"Okay." Yugi was about to elaborate when it occurred to him that he didn't remember it. There were no dreams that sprang to mind. He didn't remember tossing and turning or waking up in the middle of the night. It was all one large black hole in his mind, something that wasn't too uncommon but seen as a beautiful relief at the moment.

"No nightmares?"

He stiffened and blinked his eyes towards the door, nearly screaming when he heard them rolling within their sockets. He choked and swore his hand was bleeding but he couldn't do any more than swallow back a sob. How was he meant to live like this? What if he was all but blind due to this blurry vision? What was he meant to do then? What if his hearing remained like this? Was it even possible to function with such extremities? Who could possibly wish for such a horrible burden?

"No."

He felt as if it had come out in a pitiful, wailing moan, but her reaction suggested otherwise.

"Okay, well, when you're hungry, breakfast is on the table."

He heard her moving away more than the words that had left her mouth. In actuality, however, it was her heartbeat growing somewhat muffled with distance that truly told him she had moved. Yugi remained slumped on the floor, mind racing with the task of figuring out what each noise was and spiraling with the idea of getting up and going out there. There would be no happy morning conversation or compliments about a homemade breakfast. He doubted he could taste anything around that disgusting odor on his tongue or his aching nose either. But the thought of being confined to the small kitchen where the noise would bounce around and ricochet from one spot to the next was far too much. Even with the door between them he had thought the sound of their pulses might kill him.

And he certainly didn't want to see his grandfather. He thought he might do something to test him and with all this pain and seemingly no way to release it, he might wind up screaming until his vocals broke and he drowned in his own blood.

Yugi spent the entire day in his room. He was far too scared to leave the small sky blue walls and pretended to be asleep whenever a mealtime came around. He knew his mom well enough to know that she wouldn't wake him when it was obvious that he had not been sleeping well. She might assume it was a side effect or something along those lines but he hardly cared. Let her think he needed the dosage increased. He was already too afraid to leave his room despite his gurgling stomach and he would rather waste away than deal with all the noise.

Nighttime was almost no quieter than day, and, as his stomach growled pitifully for the twentieth time that day, Yugi wanted nothing more than to smother himself. He had been so naïve to think he could possibly survive the Change. It was too terrible a burden. This foreign vessel his body had become was too much to wish to live with. Everything was just so terribly wrong.

He couldn't survive listening to his heart beat so madly in his chest. He couldn't survive hearing his eyes rattle whenever he turned his head. He couldn't survive hearing it when his ribcage flexed with small, almost inaudible pops as his lungs expanded dutifully to draw in air. Even his jaw clicked when he shifted it slightly to grow more comfortable and the collision of his teeth made him swallow sobs. And swallowing made his teeth crunch and his muscles slide and jerk beneath his skin so that it sounded as if his bones were rattling painfully.

His room was hardly a safe haven. The wall's tilt still made the entire room seem to fall off balance, caving inwards. The carpet was one dark mass of indigo purple. When he moved, it was all amplified to the point that he might grow deaf from exposure. When the air conditioner clicked on, the unit above his head rattled so violently he swore the ceiling would cave in. He couldn't remain in the same position and rolling over made him dizzy and his ears ache even more.

But it was better for him to lie there, staring at the walls and wishing he were dead than moving about and alerting his mom to just how bad it all really was.

---

He was unsure of when he had fallen asleep but when he woke again his head felt stuffy and his eyes were still blurry. He was frozen by his own memory, unable to make himself move, and for a moment he was too afraid to do anything more than stare. He drew in a small breath, dreading the sound of his ribs expanding, but heard nothing. Like his blurred eyesight, his hearing had once again grown to be smothered away by that immense cotton ball sensation residing in his skull. The headache was not completely gone but it had lessened some, relieved somewhat by the opening of his nasal passages.

Yugi moved to sit up, wondering if perhaps this was the calm of the Change, sure to return once it was all over. But something occurred to him even then. His room smelled of soft body odor, of soap and bleach and lemon. There was a hint of rosemary and blood, of antiseptic wipes and the freshness of glue from pulled tape. He recognized the sea salt and lime of his windowsill where he had cleaned it. A heavy orange candy-like smell burned at his senses as well and he crinkled his nose at this new onslaught. There was the smallest of hints of laundry detergent from several different directions.

He blinked and looked around slowly, lazily, feeling exhausted even more as relief flooded him. The small teen was so tempted to just lie back down again and ignore the word round him. He almost wanted to simply lie on his side and sleep for as long as he could, whether or not the Change was what he woke to next. But his belly growled hungrily and he was not willing to ignore it as he had the day before. And he knew the food would not taste as brilliant as it might have before but his mouth was still heavily pasted with that foul flavor which coated his palate.

That, however, was hardly a setback.

He felt ready to puke from hunger the moment he stood. The room dipped and swayed as he completely righted himself. From the carpet came the smell of musty fibers and dirt which swelled only as he pressed his weight fully into the floor. With each step a new burst of the smell came upwards but it did nothing to deter him. Hunger was a powerful enough motivator that he could more or less ignore what it was that made itself so undeniable now.

When he opened the door the hallway smelled of old, chipping paint. There was a subtle hint of baked fish and peppers which had been sautéed. There was a harsher lemon scent which made his nose sting and cut lime which had spilled some juice on the tablecloth. He could catch hints of paprika and pepper and salt as well as olive oil. Beneath these was the shallow smell of roasted breadcrumbs which immediately gave way to the undercurrent of a lean protein he knew was either salmon or mackerel. He even caught the tiniest hint of asparagus.

The food was what he had gone in there looking for so it was no surprise to him that it was what came to him first. Afterwards was another onslaught of chipped paint though it was more pronounced as they had recently redone a small area behind the stove. There was, as he'd expected, the smoky scent of burned bread which had seeped into the foundation of the wall despite the new paint job.

Then there was the soft rust of the pipes beneath the sink and rotten wood at the base. There was the dish soap on the sink which smelled of orange. There was the bottle of bleach beneath the sink and old worn edges of paper where the glue no longer held. There was the scent of something like vanilla and maybe grapefruit, but the harsher chemicals made it harder to tell.

He smelled the woven material of the tablecloth and the various spills of food and beverages over the years. Yugi was so enamored with the long ago scents of orange and pineapple juices that he almost missed the lavender and burned candle wax. It took a moment for him to recognize his mom's cherry blossom shampoo and pomegranate body wash. There was his grandpa's cologne and deodorant. The last smell he caught beneath it all was the wavering, nearly faded touch of his dad's aftershave which he had gotten him the last time he had visited several months ago.

---

The fourth day Yugi found himself with those same blurred and dulled senses. His nose ached and hurt, his eyesight was severely limited in distance, and his hearing was muffled again. The taste in his mouth had changed only slightly, though it was due to the fact that the paste had grown thicker, as if he had fallen asleep with his mouth open and the air had grown stale against his tongue. The sensation was nothing short of having his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, something that he hated more than anything.

He got up somewhat reluctantly this time. The dizziness had grown more pronounced and his pathway to the bathroom seemed long and stressful even as he only looked across his carpet. He groaned softly under his breath, feeling sick to his stomach as he forced himself to shuffle forward. His limbs felt so heavy he was amazed that they moved at all. He could not feel the ground where he walked on the carpet but he did know he was getting closer simply because the door was mere inches away. His legs tingled but there was no other true sensation to them, as even his bare feet touching the tile did nothing but send him a dully chilled touch to his skin.

He hesitated for a moment, suddenly afraid of what might greet him in the mirror. When he'd brushed his teeth that night he had not exactly been thrilled with his reflection. But, he supposed, there was no reason for him to truly fear until it was at its absolute worst. And he wasn't sure but he thought that included when he sprouted fur, grew a tail, and possibly killed everyone around him.

By the gods, he really prayed no one was around when it happened. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He certainly couldn't fathom killing anyone. The very idea made him want to puke and his stomach churned with the simple thought as it drifted through his mind.

He paused, turning enough to look at his reflection. The light was limited where it came through the window and his frame was nothing more than a short shadow with several small dimensions. The edges of his hair were bright purple like a flame, burning as if it were a black star with bursts of vibrant violet. His skin along his thin neck and his cheeks was almost white in its pale creamy complexion.

Yugi hesitated for a long moment, swallowing hard as he thought weakly what it might be he would see there. His lips twitched, pulling downwards in a grimace. Was the task of brushing his teeth and using mouthwash really worth all of what he might find there? He was frozen, staring at the darkness of his shadow in the glass. What else would he do? Maybe he would need to turn the lights off again immediately from shock and fear of it all?

Would he even recognize himself there? Or would he be so changed by his new disease that even his reflection would not be familiar any longer? He had not felt as if he was still inside his own body only two days before so who was to say that he wouldn't become lost even looking at himself?

He swallowed again and slowly raised his hand up to flick the light switch. He was exhausted again and the very thought of being unable to see himself inside a foreign body only scared him even more. He could not think through all of what such a horrifying concept could be, what meaning it might all possess. His vision continued to lilt and shift with its blurred edges, as if his mind were pinching in its effort to straighten and sort itself out. He felt as if his mouth was glued shut by all of the dried saliva which still smothered his sense of taste. Yet he still found his fingers touching the cold plaster of the wall before the switch snapped upwards. The sound of it made Yugi flinch slightly as it ricocheted violently within the small room.

He blinked and squeezed his eyes shut against the impulse to look at himself completely. Breathing in deeply, the small teen hesitated before very slowly opening his right eye weakly in a narrow slit. His stomach dropped again and his eyes nearly popped open in shock. The skin on his face looked almost as if perhaps the blood had drained from it, pale and nearly sweaty with the unhealthy shine of heat which burned his gut. His hair looked sloppy and weighted almost as if with gallons of grease, his bangs plastered to his shiny forehead. He looked smaller, almost thinner, and his collarbones appeared skeletal in their taut design. But his eyes looked more horrible than anything else and the entire image before him made him want to puke.

The color had drained from his irises. His usually beautiful sapphire ringlets of blue had become only shades of periwinkle, blurred with a tantalizing silver-gray. The dark violet alongside these dulled blue layers made his stomach drop. They looked ghostly, almost like frosty silver and blue where they touched, blending beautifully. But they were not the eyes he knew so well, the ones he had known all his life. There were not any flecks of blue amidst purple or spirals of the two intense colors which bordered so often on hypnotizing. They were not what Anzu had once called akin lapis-lazuli gems.

And the drained colors only made his flesh look even paler and lifeless. Because of this it all made him look as if he were dying, as if the life were falling away from his body.

Yugi almost pushed the switch back down again, the exhaustion weighing his features in bags beneath his eyes and feverish skin he was sure would erupt with acne. Instead, feeling cold as if water were splashing his insides, he turned away and glanced at his toothbrush and the paste which sat beside it along the rim of the sink. Whether his reflection scared him or not, he could not stand the idea of this taste remaining in his mouth any longer. He would simply avoid the mirror and the horrid reflection it offered him. There was no reason to look at it any longer.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The scrape of the muscle along his palate was slow and nearly sticky. The disgusting hints of the hideous taste in his mouth seemed to double and even triple with each movement. He swallowed hard again, feeling sick to his stomach as he felt the taste continue to grow with a smothering edge once more.

He kept his eyes on his brush, reaching out lazily to pull it upwards from the counter. He was still inexplicably exhausted as he moved his fingers along the length of the handle. His fingertips felt shaky and the true sensation of holding the plastic did not feel even remotely familiar. It was almost as if he had been holding his fingers against the counter, flat and resistant where it touched his skin.

Even as his other hand flipped the lid of the tube of paste and he grasped it tightly, the sensation was not one he seemed to fully experience. It, like holding his brush, was muted and detached as if he were merely watching another do it in his place. It was both horrifying and yet hilarious to think of and the idea seemed almost childish within his own head. The small teen moved to press the end of the tube against the brush, narrowing his eyes faintly as he thought to squeeze the paste on the bristles.

He swallowed again and turned on the faucet with the impulse to flinch away from the noise. He had expected momentarily that his ears might roar with the noise and make his brain rattle within his skull. He shivered, nearly trembling at the idea, and felt sick to his stomach with the idea. He was frozen in place seconds later, gripped by the immediate panic that it all might come rushing back. But the moments passed, slipping away just as simply as the water might through his fingers. He wanted momentarily to laugh before he swept it away as easily as he could.

He was sure everything else would wind up just as harsh as his hearing. It appeared, he supposed, that the werewolf's senses were undeniably another curse that came with the first and most famous of its effects on the body. Becoming a prisoner within an altered body and suffering through an eventual complete change of one's shape and maybe even more of a stranger within something else altogether, that made everything much worse. If one truly lost their mind during the Change, and it never fully recovered, he could not think of a single thing that might hold more horror in its reality

And, if immortality was not a myth, then that was yet another burden to be added to the multilayered curse. There were so many reasons to hate it, but he also supposed that maybe that could also be merit to love it. If someone hated themselves enough, it could all be seen as something of a blessing. Should someone think their lives so terrible they might think it was something to love and savor.

They could lose themselves within the curse, within both the physical and mental sense. They could run away with almost no trace to be found should they wish it. If the Change caused the mind to deteriorate then perhaps they would slip away from notice. They could even experience and enjoy the sensation of the disconnection that came with the impact of their heightened senses.

Yugi shook his head to toss the thought aside, abruptly startled from this disturbing line of ideas. He shoved the brush into his mouth quickly, fighting away his initial impulse to continue with his train of thought. The bristles struck his gums harshly but it was not until he dragged the brush along the length of his teeth that he knew what this new pull of his senses meant.

The paste grew frothy immediately and the spittle of it as it touched his tongue made his body grow stiff with shock. The nerves on his tongue burst and crackled as if he had stuck it into an electrical socket. The mind, usually so soft and familiar, was now akin the strength of needles and live flames pressing against his taste buds.

He recoiled, barely managing to keep his grip on the brush even as his hand shook. He had not realized until he looked at his trembling fingers that his hand was coated in his spit. His chin was even soaked in it, turned a light blue with white edges, dribbling almost lazily down his face and towards the counter.

His tongue felt as if it had been dunked within boiling hot water, like he was drinking coffee or hot chocolate too soon for it to cool some. He thought it might swell, become more than twice its normal size from the pain, but then the logic seemed to coil within his mind. He had not truly burned his tongue, though it felt like it and his mind was preoccupied with the confusion of such realization.

He had not burned himself but he did see that his gums were bleeding as he opened his mouth to inspect and make sure. It was a harsh arch which wavered downwards along the front of his teeth, bubbly with the foam of his toothpaste. He lacked sensation where the small cuts were, and not even the tiniest sting greeted their exposure to the air.

Yugi was almost mesmerized by the fact and his fingers almost rose to touch it, curious as the lack of sensation came further to light. He didn't feel the nicks but he also could not feel where the spit had landed on his hand. And he still wasn't exactly sure how much pressure he was exerting in gripping his brush.

He swallowed hard, spitting into the sink after a moment, and turned the faucet on so that he could rinse his hand. His mind raced for a moment and he ran his tongue over his teeth. His blood tasted almost entirely metallic like copper and iron, but there was an odd sweetness that came immediately as an aftertaste with such strength that it seemed to both soothe the pain from the foam in his mouth and threaten it with painful sizzling. His taste buds again seemed to burst and tingle but now the sensation was cooler, gentler, and the reality of this was one of absolute horror.

The toothbrush fell out of his hand and his body shook with new tremors.

If blood tasted so good to him and even offered an edge of relief to some of the pain his senses brought him, what was there to keep him from killing someone? What was there to keep him from desiring the need to kill just to taste the blood in his mouth? Maybe that was what had driven Ushio to attempt to kill him and even influenced the Burger World employee. And maybe Kokurano had killed someone and his body had reacted to something inside of the blood?

He supposed the circumstances didn't truly matter. What did was how he planned to control it now that it affected him so fully.

But he would have to wait to see what the rest of the day brought, maybe plan while exploring this new height in his sense of taste. He had to find out if there was anything he could eat or drink without the same horrible sensation. And then he would try to see if there was another way to filter through it all and manipulate in ways that he could learn to manage it. He hoped more than anything that blood was not the only thing that soothed him.

---

The next day found him awakening to a small pain in his side where his hand was positioned under his flank. He'd fallen asleep awkwardly, having been so overthrown by his new sense of taste that he had struggled to keep things down. He wanted to curl up again but his face was itchy where his cheek was pressed against the pillow. His ear was hot, pulsing with his heartbeat as it would had he scratched it moments before. He shifted to pull his face down slightly but now the position of his legs seemed too pressured where they were bent beneath the blankets.

Yugi drew in a breath and shuffled his legs to separate them but his skin itched and burned. He grunted in annoyance but he could feel his pulse within both legs and a new weight which pressed his muscle hard against his bones until he thought they might snap. The comforter had grown too heavy and the weight of it made heat dance in his spine. Yugi let out a small grumble and kicked the blanket away but immediately regretted it. The air that greeted him was viciously cold, biting at his skin like needles. He shuddered and the sharpness of the movement made his bare feet feel as if they had come into contact with jagged glass.

Sleep that had formerly tugged at his senses was now immediately gone, fleeing away as if chased. He jerked and sat up and every vein in his body seemed to burn for a split second, alerting him without words to just where exactly they all resided. He moved away from the comforter, kicking it further towards the baseboard of the bed, and then groaned at the newest sensation to greet him. His socks had bunched up and where they now rested against his skin made his heels pulse with pain and his toes seemed unusually hot in temperature. The sheets beneath his tailbone, still sore from its impact with the floor days prior, were bunched in ways that made them feel as if they were beds of stone against his skin.

His palm itched where it touched the sheet's surface. He thought without provocation that the fine threads were all pressing into his skin with such force they might imprint within his very nerve endings. He shifted his position but his pajama bottoms bunched up now and this new touch of material seemed to drive him insane. The cotton along his skin shoulders seemed to weigh down on him, the heat blooming along the narrow bones. The tag scratched his skin like needles and even as he reached back to move it flat against his skin once more, he realized too late that it was a bad idea.

He almost screamed. The touch of his nail to his skin was like a cold knife's blade threatening to break through. When his skin brushed against it as well, it felt as if a flame were licking his flesh. He flinched but the movement only made him bite his cheek to swallow back the immensity of each terrible pain. His skin shuddered and twitched beneath his clothing, his flesh crawling upwards along his spine. Another painful phantom burn burst through the marrow of his bones.

Impulse made him twist as if the heat beneath his skin might be quelled by the hideous movements. He fell back against the mattress, body burning and twitching as his skin jerked and rolled over his bones. Shaken by spasms, the small teen found himself once more swallowing back a new scream of pain.

His back arched against the sheets, breath coming out in frantic gasps for air, and he could feel the shaking growing tenfold as he reached out to clench the material. Some part of him tried to thrust itself wildly, but the only areas that managed such a feat were his middle back and head. Sound died in his throat, though he was unsure if he had screamed or not. His skin continued to shoot pain throughout his nerve endings and he scrambled to push himself off the bed. His hand throbbed even as he made an attempt to get on the floor.

When he touched the carpet the coolness of the thin fibers reminded him suddenly of ice cold water. The surface was soothing despite its scratchiness, and the very fact that it seemed to alleviate his discomfort some made him want to rub his cheek along the carpet. He was almost tempted to strip himself of his clothes and roll along the floor until the unbearable heat and sensitivity left him.

He wished momentarily that he might shed his human skin right then if it would only make things normal again. Then he was reminded vaguely of his mother and grandfather and wished his body might go into shock. But, being a werewolf and seeing both Valon and that other wolf recover their footing as they had, he doubted it was entirely plausible.

There was no comfortable position, he found moments later. Despite the soothing touch the carpet the carpet granted, it did nothing to rid him of it entirely. His front side had begun to ache, as had his back, and he found himself wanting to curl into a ball in order to wash away some of the misery.

It took him an hour to pull himself from the floor and another twenty minutes to find clothes that would not irritate his skin. He felt as if it had been an eternity to pass before he managed to make his way into the kitchen without limping. The sensation of walking and the burden of weight touching his bones with each step, made him want to whimper. It felt as if the fibers of the socks he was wearing—ironically, the only seamless pair he owned—pressed so furiously into his skin that they mirrored glass shards. He felt disgusting and strange, forced to squint as the air conditioning turned on and the current made his eyes burn.

His mom and grandpa, waiting for him at the table, gave him confused looks as their eyes fell on him. Yugi wanted to blink at them and joke childishly but could only squint harder before reaching up to rub at an eye. His immediate reaction was to cry out as his hand touched his eyelid. The heat was so harsh that he thought his skin must have split and blood was welling from each severed vein. And when his knuckle brushed a piece of sleep sand as he forced himself to continue he thought the coarse surface was that of a rock as it scraped his skin.

"Why, um…why are you wearing your uniform, Yugi?" his mom questioned curiously, tilting her head and frowning in puzzlement. It was true that her son liked to wear it outside of school and oftentimes he would not bother with anything else, but he had not worn it in days. In fact, she remembered he had even thrown it into the laundry so that it would be ready for school within the next week, which, of course, indicated he would leave it there in his closet until school began again.

And, as she looked at the small teenager, she found herself feeling uneasy and almost nauseas. He was rubbing his right eye as if he had just woken up and squinting from his left with such a blank facial expression that it set her nerves on end. His clothing was rumpled, the royal blue of the jacket pulled lopsidedly along his thin shoulders. The sleeves were haphazard, the right crumpled so that the cuffs were folded along the middle of his forearm, sliding downwards as if too big. The left was pulled all the way down to cover his wrist and part of his thumb. His uniform shirt actually seemed to drain the color from his skin, rendering him almost ashen in shade. His pants were unusually baggy and seemed to fold downwards at the waist, crumpled in a way that gave them the appearance of sliding off.

His hair looked unusually greasy, as if he had not showered in days, but his hair had always been baby fine and prone to becoming extremely oily overnight. His forehead had the smallest of sheens to it, but the overall effect was not alarming as he had sometimes appeared this same way whenever he woke from a night terror.

"It's comfortable," Yugi mumbled, moving to take the seat across from her. He closed his eyes tightly as the wood seemed to press through his pants and into his skin as if not a single barrier existed. Then the sensation of his pants and boxers pressed so far into his skin caused him to feel the blood within his veins beneath his weight. He forced himself not to grunt and squirm until he was more comfortable and instead opened his eyes into thin slits once more.

"And your other clothes…aren't?"

Yugi blinked and looked at her, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and fighting away a grimace. He had become so consumed in his discomfort that for a moment he hardly understood what it was that she was saying. He almost glanced at his grandpa for an explanation but caught himself at the last moment. "These are the most comfortable," he amended with what he hoped was a sheepish smile.

What actually made the curl of his lips was something of a strained pull of his mouth that bordered a grimace. But neither family member commented as they looked at him. Sugoroku was more curious about the way he slouched forward a bit further than usual, the curve of his spine showing something much more the likes of physical defeat rather than mere exhaustion. Kasumi was caught by the unease with which her stomach twisted. Yugi was still squinting, as if the light hurt his eyes or his balance was off. Both of these characteristics were undeniably new, something that neither had seen applied to him beforehand. And both were equally concerning though they went unmentioned.

Yugi made no attempt to question their curious and suspicious stares, as the energy it would have taken to pretend to care would not have been worth the effort put into his surprised portrayal. Rather, he ignored them and focused on the rare American-style meal in front of him. The plate of pancakes made his mouth water despite his knowledge that the taste would be all but lost on him.

It was during his second plate that he fully recognized something that had formerly been nothing more than a curious touch to his left hand where it sat on the table despite his discomfort. Two sources of warmth seemed to brush against his skin softly, like wind or maybe even fingertips from the most gossamer of hands. It was a gentle pull at his awareness, telling him to pay attention, and the two directions it begged him to turn made him blink as his eyes flickered.

The conversation was nonexistent this morning, the three of them caught in their own thoughts, so when Yugi suddenly turned to him, he was not expecting it. The small boy was still squinting, though now it was to keep the lack of color in his irises from being noticed, but his gaze burned holes into his skin. He was frozen beside him, head tilted slightly, and he could see his nose twitching faintly as he drew in a deep breath. Syrup was caught on his bottom lip, glinting in the light almost like water, but whereas Yugi would usually happily lick it away, now he merely stared at the elderly Motou as if he were a stranger.

Yugi opened his mouth but the heat bathed his tongue like sunlight and with it came such a sudden rush of metallic smell that he almost choked. It coated his tongue like water and suddenly there was something deeper within that iron, coppery scent which he could only think to describe as fatty. It was almost like butter, soft but somewhat salty, and maybe even a little sweet.

He swallowed, shutting his mouth immediately, but the smell flavored his mouth with such delicacy that it made his head light and airy. He almost moaned, his entire body spiking intensely with shots of energy to every part of him. His mouth filled a second time and he swallowed it away once more even as he rushed to turn away and dig into his breakfast again.

But now the hairs had risen on both arms and his sense of smell would not leave him now. His new, growing sensitivity to this sensation of heat against his skin in both directions was nothing he could ignore. His mouth grew fuller as the seconds passed and his heart began to race as a new sense of profound horror and curiosity began to lap at his insides. He could not name that buttery smell for the life of him, but just the day before it had been the answer, now too was blood the name of that metallic scent which made him want to open his mouth and allow it to settle on his tongue.

Not sure I'll manage to get chapter ten up on time. I have to work the next few days and the chapter is pretty long. I hadn't realized how long until just yesterday. Anyways, so it might be posted late. Sorry!

So! Any guesses who the wolf in the woods was?