Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of its characters. Yu-Gi-Oh! is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi.

So yeah, hey.

I know, you're about ready to murder me several times over for not updating this thing, but I've got a perfectly good reason for neglecting you all.

I just haven't thought of it yet.

Nah, honestly, I just got totally sidetracked, and I feel so utterly stoopid for it. Hopefully, like me, you're just relieved that I eventually got back to working on it. More likely, however, you're in the middle of hunting me down and sticking something sharp between my shoulder blades. In either case, I hope you have the time to stop and read this, the latest chapter – and maybe, if you feel up to it, letting me know what you think. Preferably before taking my life.

I will warn you though; this is a pretty dark chapter – although I did my best to spice it up by sprinkling a little levity here and there. Basically, if my lengthy absence didn't make you wanna kill me, then this chapter will probably, as they say, seal the deal.

But above all, know that there is more to come. A lot more. If I don't get distracted by, say, a pretty rainbow in the sky.

This is only the beginning.

--

Spirit

Chapter Three: Keepsake

--

At school, Yugi often had occasion to hear the classic hypothetical "If a tree fell in the forest and no-one was around to hear it, would it still make a noise?" He had no doubt that, if one such tree had indeed fallen during the spirit's telling of his story, the noise generated – or lack thereof – would have been the envy of mutes the world over. The deep and steady tone of the spirit's voice seemed to suppress every other sound created by the forest; the rushing river became an uncanny whisper, and the whistling wind slowed its pace down to a gentle, soothing breeze.

Once he had described in detail Yugi's attempted rescue of the Millennium Puzzle, the spirit became deathly silent for a time, as though the effort it took to recount the events was almost as exhausting as experiencing them first-hand. Yugi rubbed at his shins anxiously, having hoisted himself up onto an exposed tree root, and waited impatiently for his longtime partner to continue; after all, he couldn't just leave the story hanging at such a critical juncture. It wasn't just that Yugi wanted to know what happened next. Quite the opposite, in fact. No, Yugi wanted him to continue because a small and subdued part of his subconscious knew precisely what happened next – and it made him very nervous.

Ever since the spirit had begun narrating the events leading up to his mysterious and unexplained entry into this otherworldly place, Yugi had started to recall certain things. Nothing so specific as memories – more like urges, feelings. Rushes of sensation that occasionally shot into his head as the spirit spoke. He recalled so vividly the veritable pit of sadness and sympathy that had opened within him while dueling Joey back in their classroom. At one point, his stomach tightened with anxiety and fear – fear that Joey's life might be in danger. And as the spirit drew to a halt in his tale, a searing bolt of electricity seemed to explode within Yugi's hands as though he could feel the skin on his palms blistering up into a sickly mass of bubbles, like when cheese is left in the oven too long. Yes, he even remembered burning up in that hallway. But perhaps more disturbingly than that, despite his best efforts, he could not visualise it in his mind's eye; it was as though it had happened to someone else, and his overwhelming sense of guilt had driven him to experience these dreadful phantom pains.

But it had really happened to him – all of it. He knew it to be true, just as he knew he was sitting there in that forest beside the spirit of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh, who had now descended into deep thought; a spirit who had been made tangible, much to Yugi's bewilderment. If he wanted to, he could reach over and give his old friend a reassuring tap on the shoulder. This fact alone was enough to send Yugi's mind reeling; he could actually touch him! How was it possible? And why here? Why now?

The story had to continue. It was the only way he was going to get any answers. And boy, did he need answers.

"Then what happened?" he said, prodding the pharaoh's foot with his own.

The spirit stirred. "Hmm?"

"After I came back for you," said Yugi. "How did we manage to get out? I mean, the way you described it, it's as if there was no way we could…"

"Yugi," the spirit leaned into his partner's face, studying it carefully as though he had forgotten what it looked like. Fat chance of that, Yugi thought. We both look practically identical. "Are you sure you don't remember anything? Nothing I speak of seems familiar?"

"Well," said Yugi. "Not… really."

"Tell me the truth, Yugi," the spirit urged, his brow furrowing momentarily. "I may not be able to sense what you feel now, given that we no longer share a bond as we once did – but I am more perceptive than you might think."

"What do you mean?" Yugi flushed, already knowing where this was headed.

"I watched you closely while I was talking," the spirit explained. "I saw your concern as I spoke of Joey, long before I came to mention his woes." Yugi lowered his eyes, almost afraid of what the spirit might see in them now that he had been caught out. "I saw you despairing for his safety, as though you knew he was about to cast caution to the wind and risk his life for his deck. I saw you cradling your hands as, in my story, you reached into the fire to save me."

"Would you believe me if I said I was just really getting into it?" Yugi asked sheepishly. He looked up and saw the spirit's stoic and faultless features. If, Yugi mused, they ever found themselves barred from entering Duel Monsters tournaments, the pharaoh would probably be able to make a career out of staring contests. "I guess not, huh?"

"Like I said, I'm very perceptive," the spirit bowed his head, and Yugi thought he saw traces of a smirk; however, it was pulled from his lips as swiftly as it had appeared. "That is to say, we both are. I've always said that you have the heart of a warrior, Yugi. But you also have a warrior's senses."

"Senses?" said Yugi. The spirit had often reassured him in such a manner whenever Yugi was feeling despondent or helpless. At times, it seemed as though all he ever did was sit on the sidelines with the rest of his pals and watch the pharaoh take control of a duel – take it all the way to victory single-handedly. But, as the spirit routinely reminded him, the Millennium Puzzle would not have answered to an unworthy soul. The spirit chose Yugi because he could fight alongside him as an equal – as a friend. And he entrusted a great deal of faith in Yugi's abilities, both on and off the dueling field.

"You wouldn't just forget something like this," said the spirit. "The same way my own memories seem lost, they are still inside of me. They just need to be unlocked. I had hoped to one day discover my real name; all it would require is for somebody to remind me."

Had hoped? Yugi thought, frowning. What's that supposed to mean? It's as though he's given up…

"You might say our memories are like a river," the spirit continued, motioning toward the stream ebbing its way through the forest just a few yards away. Ever since he had appeared, its urgent roar had been stifled, like a ferocious lion that had been briskly tamed against its will. The spirit seemed to have that effect on people; when he spoke, they listened. Apparently this also applied to the world around him. When he spoke, nature itself ceased its tumultuous turnings and paid full attention. "Newly formed memories course their way through our minds, eventually arriving at the ocean of our past where they mingle with all the other recollections. But just because some memories lie hidden beneath the surface, it doesn't mean that they are no longer there."

"Couldn't you have used a different metaphor?" Yugi asked, grinning. "I've kinda had my fill of rivers for today." The awful experience of following the river in the vain hope of finding his friends was still fresh in his mind – or, as the pharaoh might say, it still flowed through him. "But I guess what you're saying is, I should be able to remember everything?"

"You do remember," the spirit corrected. "The way you were reacting, it seems your heart is unable to forget."

"My heart remembers," said Yugi, stroking his hands absent-mindedly as though he was caressing invisible scars. "But my mind doesn't. Is that it?"

"That's it exactly," the spirit agreed. "Long before I rediscovered that I was once pharaoh, I already knew it to be true – in my heart, that is. It just took someone else to rekindle that notion inside my head."

"Then the only way to get me to remember," said Yugi, "is to tell me everything."

"Everything?" the spirit seemed taken aback.

"You still haven't explained how I got here," Yugi reminded him, "or what happened to make you… different. Did the fire somehow destroy our link? Was the Millennium Puzzle damaged?"

"Yugi," the spirit spoke softly once more. "There is little more to tell."

"So tell it, however little there is, and be done with it then!" Yugi insisted, though another of those feelings had sprouted inside his chest – an unnerving thing that tried to snatch the words right out of his throat. It was the strongest sense of foreboding he'd ever felt, and he'd had more than his fair share of those. "Tell me what happened after I came back for you!"

"I cannot…" the spirit closed his eyes.

"You can't what?" asked Yugi, grabbing him by the wrist. It felt so strange to be able to do such a thing, but he didn't let it deter him. "You can't tell me? Why not?"

"I simply cannot allow it," the spirit replied angrily, though it seemed to be aimed more toward himself than anything else. "No more than I can allow myself to harm a single hair on your head."

"Please, spirit!" Yugi begged, his voice breaking into emotional discord. When the spirit refused to answer, Yugi racked his brains trying to think of a way to get him to talk. Even when they still shared the same body, it would've proven difficult to get the spirit to chat openly if he didn't want to; now that they were separate beings, it was going to be an even greater challenge. "Spirit… Do you have any idea what it's like to have these feelings, but no memories to make proper sense of them? It frightens me. If you're worried about hurting me, then don't make me suffer this confusion."

"It would only make things worse if I told you," the spirit replied; his confidence in the decision remained unwavering.

"Spirit," Yugi whispered. Inside his chest, where that wellspring of doubt had been stirred, he was now bolstering his confidence and charging up his courage. If he was supposed to have the heart of a warrior, then now was the time to prove it. "You have no right to deny me this."

"What…?" the spirit was shocked, but not half as shocked as Yugi had been. That sentence didn't even sound like it had come from his mouth – it was more like something the pharaoh would say. Even his voice sounded deeper, more forthright. Now he knew what it was like to make people listen when he spoke. "But, but Yugi I'm only trying to protect you. That is my right – my one eternal right."

"If someone knew your real name," Yugi posed, "and then refused to tell you what it was, would you feel they had the right to do it?"

The spirit hesitated before answering, giving it a sufficient amount of thought. "If their reasoning was sound, yes."

"What kind of reasoning could possibly be good enough?" Yugi asked, exasperated. He lunged forward and squatted in front of the disheveled spirit, clasping his fingers together as if in prayer and hoping against hope that whatever still remained of their bond was strong enough to get his message across. "Spirit, be honest. If I learned your real name and then kept it from you, wouldn't you feel hurt? Even slightly?"

"… I…"

"Even if I told you I was trying to protect you?" he continued. "If it meant that you'd spend the rest of your days without a name – without the slightest shred of identity – just because I thought I knew what was best for you?"

A low, guttural gasp emerged from the spirit's throat, and he turned from Yugi to hide the emotion brewing in his eyes. Through gritted teeth, he gave his cut and dry answer: "Yes, it would hurt. But you are my partner. If you wished me to feel such pain, then I would gladly suffer."

"I'd never do that to you!" Yugi immediately cried, rushing forward and embracing the pharaoh. He was both saddened and touched by the spirit's sentiment, not to mention a little afraid. Had the spirit considered something like this before? That Yugi might someday seek, however inadvertently, to harm him? And that he'd be okay with it, just because it was Yugi? "Spirit, don't you get it? The last thing either of us wants to do is hurt the other."

"Yugi," was the spirit's breathless response, as his arm reached around and held the boy protectively. "It seems either choice will bring you much pain. How can I possibly decide?"

"It's up to you," Yugi whispered warmly, placing his head on the spirit's shoulder. He'd never been in this position before, and was surprised by how comforting it felt. It was like resting against the oldest tree in the forest. The spirit had a timeless aura that was both boundlessly strong and gentle at the same time. "The way I see it, I'm faced with two different kinds of pain. The kind I can deal with, and the kind I can't. If you don't tell me what happened, I've no way of knowing how to get over it – how to overcome the pain."

"You think if I told you," the spirit said, turning his head slightly; his chin found itself planted within Yugi's plentiful hair, forcing him into a broad smile, "then you would be able to deal with it?" He sighed, but it was no longer a completely hopeless sound. "Yugi, I don't know about this."

"That's just it," Yugi said. "You don't know. I don't know. And what we don't know won't hurt us, right?"

"Heh," the spirit sniffed, and a lock of Yugi's hair seemed to brush lightly against his lips in response. "Very well, Yugi. I shall give you your answers. I will tell you what happened. But you must promise to believe what I say, and accept it – no matter how fantastic or impossible it may seem."

"I promise."

They remained as they were for another minute – Yugi knew this because he was secretly counting the seconds in his head – without saying another word. In any other time, in any other place, in any other world, it might have seemed an odd thing to behold – a young boy and his much older doppelganger sharing an intimate and silent embrace. But here in this forest, which Yugi now found himself strangely thankful for, it felt perfectly natural. So natural, in fact, that Yugi didn't want to let go – and neither, he suspected, did the spirit. But eventually, they were forced to part. The spirit slipped his arm back around to his side, allowing Yugi to slide softly to the grass below. It was time to hear the rest of the story.

"Yugi," said the spirit, his voice hoarse and his face as pale as the fat and eerily static clouds that framed him overhead. He looked for all the world like those faces Yugi had seen bobbing about in the river – faces that seemed so blissfully good. "The truth is, you died in that fire."

Yugi's heart didn't just sink – it capsized. "I don't believe you…! I can't!" It was the first time Yugi had ever broken a promise. But even as he decried it, he knew it was the truth.

In his heart, he had known all along.

--

Joey felt himself being carried through the air, and imagined he was soaring amongst the clouds on the back of his Red-Eyes Black Dragon. His arms were fastened to the ancient bulk of the monster's neck as the wind whipped through his hair and threatened to drown out his exhilarated whoops and cries. They were travelling at breakneck speed – so fast that the cities below seemed indivisible from the land or the oceans. The world was a blur; it couldn't keep up with them.

"C'mon, Red-Eyes!" he screamed, nearly losing his grip as the beast banked unexpectedly. "Let's go higher!" There was an almost reluctant groan from the dragon's stomach, sending vibrations all the way up Joey's arms and back that disorientated him for a second. "Yeah, you heard me, pal! Take us up! All the way up!"

Following Joey's commands, the Red-Eyes Black Dragon swooped downwards for a moment and then immediately rose higher into the sky, up into the atmosphere so that he had a good view of the clouds below. They hung over the continents like a vast winged shadow, climbing higher and higher until Joey could practically see the faint pinpricks of distant stars glinting through the wide blue veil above. And then, when he thought things couldn't get more intense, Red-Eyes rolled over onto its back without warning, forcing Joey to hang on for dear life.

Yet despite his precarious predicament, Joey was laughing. It was a genuine thrill ride, being so out of control and helpless; from the way his arms were shaking, he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. But he laughed all the same. After all, he was on top of the world. The only way to go from here was down. His mind couldn't have been further from such earthly problems as his pops, or his dueling career, or Mai, or his poor, poor sister – Serenity. He just wished Yugi could see him now.

"Yugi…"

Something in his brain clicked, like someone elusory had turned off the lights. He didn't feel so excited anymore. That buzzing sensation in his head, the undeniable rush of risking his life, turned into something more ominous. Whereas before he would have welcomed a timely fall, now he was afraid to let go. Something about Yugi had changed his attitude. Something he had done. But what was it?

"Hey, Joey."

He craned his neck to see who had spoken. It was Yugi. The little duelist was sitting behind him with his arms wrapped around his waist, holding on for dear life. But he didn't look scared. If anything, he looked serene. His extravagant head of hair had been blown backwards by the wind, and from Joey's perspective it looked like it had all fallen out. A smile was all he offered to explain his presence in Joey's dreams.

"Yuge?" Joey asked, not even bothering to raise his voice. "What're you doin' here? It's too dangerous, ya might fall!"

"I wanted to be with you one last time, Joey," Yugi replied. But his mouth hadn't opened; instead, he'd just closed his eyes and allowed the words to fill Joey's head. It was as if he'd just thought them, and Joey had picked up on it like some kind of transceiver. "Swear you won't let go, okay?"

With that cheerful, unspoken remark, Yugi removed his hands from Joey's waist and allowed himself to fall. Joey acted instinctively, reaching out with his right arm and trying desperately to grab Yugi's sleeve. But it was too late. Yugi had tumbled too far, and now all Joey could do was watch as his friend passed through the pale boundaries of the cloud layer and plummeted toward the unseen lands beyond.

Joey's face turned blood red – as red as the eyes of the dragon he now rode – and he let out a silent scream. Yugi was gone.

--

"Yuge!" he cried.

"Joey!"

"You're awake!"

Tristan and Téa's voices. Joey recognised them instantly. They sounded so different from when he'd last heard them. Before they were snide and callous, full of spite for him; now they couldn't have been more ecstatic. He felt arms gripping him tightly, and it didn't take him long to figure out Téa was hugging him. Without realising it, he let out a pained yelp as she pressed into him, causing her to let go. His whole body ached like it had been in a nasty car accident; his leg felt especially sore, like the muscles down there had twisted into a raw, bulbous knot. What the heck could've done that? And why was everyone so happy to see him?

Then he remembered the fire. He opened his eyes with a start, only to find himself staring at the clouds once again. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming, but then he noticed he was lying flat on his back. He tried to sit up, but a sudden pain in his chest swelled up with authority, causing him to slump backwards. It was a task and a half just to breathe in and out.

Still, he thought to himself, at least we got out okay… and I managed to save our cards. Both mine and Yugi's.

"Joey, can you talk?" Tristan's voice pervaded his thoughts. "Say something, man!"

"What I wouldn't give for a heapin' helpin' of pastrami," Joey murmured dryly.

"That's our Joey," Téa let out a sigh of relief. He tilted his head to one side and looked at them. They were each of them visibly distressed; Téa's face was white as a sheet, and even Tristan seemed to be sporting a sombre attitude. Behind them, Bakura was watching over their shoulders, his lips pursed as if to say 'Oh my!' in that crazy British accent of his. And on either side, Joey could see doctors carrying him between them, their faces typically devoid of compassion. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too shabby for a guy who just survived a ragin' inferno," Joey grunted. He realised now that he was lying on a stretcher, presumably waiting to be lifted onto the back of an ambulance. It wasn't the first time he'd been rushed to hospital from school; he used to run with a rough crowd, after all. It had never been quite this serious, of course; plus, the other guy – the unfortunate soul who just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – always tended to be in much worse shape. None of this filled Joey with pride as he reflected on it morosely. Instead, it made his heart ache alongside his limbs. "I guess you're all here ta tell me how I acted like a moron, huh?"

"Don't be silly," Téa chided, although the look on Tristan's face suggested he'd taken the words right out of his mouth. "I mean, sure, it wasn't the most sane course of action – running into a burning building and all. But hey, horses do it all the time, but people love them all the same."

"Aww, don't say horses!" Joey cringed.

"Why not?"

"Because I sure could eat one right about now."

"Nice one, Joey," said Tristan, folding his arms disapprovingly. "Always thinkin' with your stomach."

"Pot, I got a message here from kettle," Joey winked. "You're black!"

"I say," Bakura stepped forward, addressing one of the doctors. In the background, Joey could just make out the whirling blue halo of the fire truck, and multiple streams of thick, fire-dousing water cascading through the air and drenching the school beyond. Joey had expected to find it a burning husk, but it looked like most of it had been left standing. Just one section seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage – the section Joey had foolishly stumbled into. "Is he going to be alright?"

"His stomach seems just fine, at least," Téa interjected.

"Until we get him to the hospital," the doctor replied, "there's no way to be certain just how much damage has been done. But I wouldn't worry about him; he seems like a tough kid. Stupid, but tough."

"Hey!" Joey snapped. "What kinda bedside manner is that s'posed to be?"

"It's called honesty, Joey," said Tristan, bluntly.

"And to be perfectly honest," said the second doctor, "if I were you, I'd be more worried about that other kid."

"What other kid?" asked Joey. At this, Téa's face darkened and she caught her lip between her teeth. "Someone wanna fill me in here?"

"Yugi, man," Tristan replied, his face threatening to twist into an ugly scowl. "He went in to rescue you, remember?"

"But we got out, right?" Joey frowned in disbelief. How could he be lying there talking to them if they didn't? The last thing he remembered, both he and Yugi were making their way out of the fire. He could see the firemen reaching out as Yugi hoisted him over a pile of burning debris, and then everything had gone blank. If they had saved him, then Yugi must be okay too. "Why the glum faces? Yugi's safe, ain't he?"

"We don't know," said Tristan. Already Téa had started crying, so soon after she'd expressed such relief at seeing Joey safe and sound. Bakura was there for her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder and offering a quiet 'there, there.' But it clearly wasn't enough; she was going to bawl her guts out until she knew Yugi was alright – and Joey didn't blame her. No, he would never blame Téa for putting Yugi at risk. "We haven't seen him since he ran inside to save you, pal."

That last word had been like ice-cubes down the back of his vest, which did sadly little to counteract the burning sensation currently ripping its way through his chest. "Tristan, I… Yugi was with me; he saved my life, pulled my butt right outta the fire! He's okay, trust me!"

"It's been ten minutes since you came out of that school," said Tristan, casting his eyes back toward the building. The last traces of smoke were slowly beginning to dissipate, and several firemen in their black and yellow uniforms had bolted through the main entrance, like worker bees desperate to save their queen. There was something frightening about their urgency; it was like watching crazed fans jump the line at a Duel Monsters event – each time so they could get to see Yugi, the King of Games, in the flesh. "So far, no sign of him."

"Téa," Joey mumbled, watching her cradle herself in Bakura's arms. She made no sound; she had shielded her face with her well-manicured fingers, and the only indication that she was crying lay in the way her whole body would lurch forward every second or two. She looked like a broken toy, left alone to torment itself until its batteries ran dead. "Don't cry. Yugi, he'll… He's…"

Then the worker bees swarmed back out again – twice the number that had entered, all clustered together like a football team discussing strategy. Joey's head slowly rose from the stretcher; his expression alone was enough to make both Tristan and Bakura look toward the firemen. Téa, still lost in her tears, remained oblivious, but Joey had a feeling she would have been the first to notice otherwise. Because these worker bees no longer rushed about with the urgency of hyperactive Duel Monsters fans. Instead, their movements were well judged and sluggish, inching their way down the brief flight of steps and onto the schoolyard below. And to Joey's horror, he saw they were carrying something – someone – on a stretcher.

"Yuge!" Joey yelled, throwing himself off his own humble carriage and collapsing on all fours on the concrete below. Before anyone could make a move to restrain him, he had broken into a brisk hobble. "I'm comin', Yuge!"

"Joey…!" shouted Tristan, hesitant to give chase.

It was too late; Joey was now galloping as fast as his burnt and battered body could carry him. With every other stride, his leg would scream for mercy, though he wasn't about to stop and listen to its complaining. But oh, how it screamed. To top it off, his chest felt as though he'd swallowed painful chunks of white-hot coal and they were rattling about inside him, struggling just to reach his digestive system. Still, he ran – his feet fumbling all the way. And throughout the agony and the fear, one thought kept spinning around inside his head:

Please let him be okay.

"Outta my way!" he barged through a small group of students, just as the firemen began to disperse.

Please let him be okay.

A collective gasp struck the air as both teachers and pupils alike understood what was happening. The stretcher was now on full display, although its occupant was hidden beneath a sheet as pale as the look on Téa's face had been.

Please let him be okay.

One of the firemen came forward. "I'm sorry, you'll have to…"

"Back off!" Joey snarled, forcing his way forward. He had slowed to a steady limp, but he still had enough strength in his upper body to make it to the stretcher. The firemen, recognising him as the kid they'd saved earlier, were reluctant to drag him away. When one of them made a move, Joey just glared. "He's my friend. I wanna see him."

"I wouldn't…"

"I want… to see him!" Joey repeated, his left eye twitching dangerously. They stepped out of his way, and Joey took his place beside Yugi. His hands touched the fabric covering his best friend. It was as though he'd accidentally overslept, and Joey was just going to nudge him awake. Wake up, sleepyhead! he thought with half a smirk. And then, more desperately:

Please let him be okay.

But of course he was gonna be okay. Why did he even doubt it? Yugi had overcome so much. He'd won tournaments even when the odds were stacked against him. He'd wiped the floor with that smug, superior Seto Kaiba time after time. He'd beaten creatures straight out of the Shadow Realm – real life monsters, the kind most kids Yugi's age would've been terrified just to glance askance at. He'd even shown Joey a thing or two over the course of their friendship together. No measly little fire was gonna stop him. No, not Yugi.

But even so, that same awful thought still rose above all the rest.

Please let him be okay. Let Yugi be alright. Let me pull back this sheet and see him smilin' up at me, as if he didn't even know there was a problem. And then we can go back to the way things were; pretend I never even flipped my lid. Please let it be that way.

Please.

He narrowed his eyes, and slid the sheet back a couple of inches.

"… Nuh… No!"

Joey fell away from the stretcher. Whether it was a result of the intense pain in his leg, or the shock of what he saw, he couldn't be certain. His body had just given up. On his long and dwindling journey to the floor, his elbow somehow collided with the metal rim of the stretcher, creating a bruise that would refuse to fade for another six and a half days. It also caused the stretcher to take off slowly in the direction of the stairs, where it eventually came to a languid halt; nevertheless, its back wheels bumped into the bottom stone step, sending an awkward jolt throughout the stretcher's skeletal framework.

And a stiff, blackened thing that might have resembled a hand emerged from underneath the soft, bleached texture of the sheet.

"Yuge…" Joey's eyes couldn't handle what they were seeing, and instinctively flooded themselves with tears so he'd be forced to close them. Underneath the white shroud, he'd seen Yugi's face – if you could even call it a face anymore – and had been reminded of his dream aboard the Red-Eyes Black Dragon. He remembered plain as day how the wind had blown Yugi's hair behind him as they soared, so it looked as though every last colourful strand had fallen out. He remembered it so vividly, and wept. "No, Yuge… Please, Yuge… Puh-please… Yuh… Yuge…"

One of the firemen rushed over and slipped the hand back underneath the sheet. But it wouldn't change a thing. Joey would always be able to see it, whenever he closed his eyes. He'd see that hand in his nightmares for the rest of his life. He'd see the hand, and a face that wasn't a face.

And no hair.

No hair whatsoever.

--

END OF CHAPTER THREE