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

Me again.

So this chapter was a bit of a toughie to write. It's somewhat exposition-heavy, so hopefully you'll be able to forgive that. Not much happens in the way of action, but heck, if you managed to slog your way through the first two chapters, I doubt that's gonna bother you much. Eh-heh.

Next few chapters should be a breeze to write, if all goes well. Not sure how long the story'll be. At a guess, I'd estimate, say, twenty chapters? Give or take. I do have an ending in mind, but nothing's set in stone.

Anyways, enjoy.


Spirit

Chapter Four: Adrift

--

At last, Yugi understood.

For the first time since arriving, he understood where he was – and why he was there. This was the Afterlife. Being so young, he hadn't really given much consideration to what awaited him once everything was said and done, so he was nearly able to take this all-important revelation in stride. Yes, this was the Afterlife, and yes, it was just an empty forest that stretched on into infinity. There were no choruses of angels on high heralding his arrival. There were no long-since-expired relatives waiting for him with open arms and a limitless list of their life stories. Just a river, swimming with endless rows of translucent faces that looked so happy they just might burst, and the spirit of an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh. That was all. But Yugi understood.

Yugi also understood why he was suddenly able to physically interact with the spirit. At first, this had struck him as being the only development in recent memory worth celebrating. However, his joy had soon been cut short, for it seemed the only reason he could touch the spirit was quite simply because he too was a spirit. The Pharaoh had not grown solid overnight; instead, Yugi had merely cast aside his mortal form and found himself an astral body of his very own. Rather than being the only person Yugi couldn't touch, the spirit was now the opposite – he was his only companion. But Yugi understood.

Above all, Yugi understood with great clarity why the spirit had been so reluctant to tell him the rest of the story – that one crucial detail that gave away his fate. Throughout the tale, flashes of feeling had come pouring back into him like waves of emotion crashing against the cliff-face of his subconscious. Upon hearing of Joey's ire toward him, he had suddenly felt a great weight on his shoulders – the weight of responsibility, the burden of keeping their friendship alive. It ate away at his resolve even now, long after they had apparently made up. When the spirit described Joey's suicidal attempt to save their cards, Yugi's heart had risen into his throat. He found himself paralysed, transfixed by the story – but at the same time, he wanted desperately to run and save his friend; he was compelled to do so by his sense of loyalty, even though Joey was likely far from danger at this point.

And then, when the spirit had bowed to Yugi's wishes and explained exactly what had led Yugi to this place – that this was the Afterlife, and that he had died in the fire – yet another feeling had taken over. But instead of being an intense rush of emotion, one that threatened to wrest control of Yugi's body and force him to react to events that had long since lost their immediacy, this feeling was dim and distant; it was lethargic and lifeless, and oh so dark. It was like pain, but much softer. It dulled all Yugi's other senses and made him want to fall asleep – to fall asleep and never wake up again. He understood this part best of all. It was his own death that he now sensed.

He understood, and was devastated because of it.

"Yugi!" the spirit had grasped him by the arms and was doing his utmost to calm him down. "Yugi, listen to me! It's over! Let go of it!"

But that was easier said than done, for as soon as the numbing sensation took hold, Yugi had begun to lose control. It was as though his very mind had been fractured; the memory of his untimely death usurped his rationality, replacing it with an almighty sense of loss and confusion. Later, when he would come to reflect on this moment of absolute helplessness, he would be reminded of a television commercial he once saw that depicted a salesman being ripped in half like a sheet of paper as if to illustrate slashed prices. That was how Yugi felt once that dark feeling overwhelmed him – torn right down the middle. He was both dead and not dead at the same time; the paradox was beyond terrifying.

This is why he didn't want to tell me, were his only sensible thoughts throughout this prolonged mental collapse. He knew I wouldn't be able to handle it.

And then, a bizarre yet oddly comforting sentence filled his head.

Wake up, sleepyhead!

"Yugi!" the spirit cried, his emotions getting the better of him. He pulled the boy to his chest and hugged his trembling form as hard as he could. "I'm sorry… I just wanted to help you. To do what was right for you."

"Sp-spirit," Yugi whispered, his amethyst eyes gradually rolling forward as he regained control of his senses. Something about that sentence, so familiar and so alien, had given him the strength to slip through the shadowy clutches of his memory. Whatever it meant, he was eternally thankful for it. "I… I think I'm alright."

"Thank the Gods!" the spirit exclaimed, practically lifting Yugi up in his arms and holding him out as if to admire him. His face swelled with pride, the blade of his nose striking the air while a pair of grateful tears drifted over the caps of his cheeks. "I was afraid you might lose your mind. That I might lose you!"

"It was touch-and-go there for a minute," said Yugi, proving himself to be a master of understatement as well as the dueling field. "It was weird; like, my mind couldn't figure out if I was dead or alive. Like a computer stuck trying to determine which came first, the chicken or the egg."

"Hmm?" the Pharaoh's exotic eyes batted at this analogy. "Surely it was the egg?"

"Uh," Yugi grinned, sweat-drops settling on the ridge of his brow. It seemed the spirit wasn't one for philosophy. "Never mind, it's not important." He allowed the spirit to drop him gently to the floor, and marveled at this new dimension to their friendship. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this."

"What's that?"

"Being like you, I guess," Yugi said. He didn't want to hurt the spirit's feelings, but the truth was that he rather hated the idea of being this way – of being a spirit. Sure, it took their friendship to a whole new level, but the sacrifice he'd made had been too great to even comprehend. "I feel so lost and alone here. If you hadn't shown up, I'm not sure what I would've done."

"Now you know how I felt when you first solved the Millennium Puzzle," the spirit said. The proud smile had yet to leave his face, though there was noticeable sorrow in his voice. "You are now as I once was, Yugi. A wandering spirit bereft of a host body."

Yugi's face fell as this sank in. "A wandering spirit, huh?" He sighed. So many times he'd taken his body for granted, giving it over to the Pharaoh quite willingly in the midst of some cataclysmic duel. Somehow he always knew he'd return to find it in good shape – maybe a little exhausted, but in one piece nevertheless. Now he was trapped, unable to return to his body even if he wanted to. "I can't imagine being stuck this way for five thousand years, like you were."

"Time in the spirit world can be elusive," said the spirit. "Sometimes it passes quickly, and sometimes an instant can be drawn out to such a length that you begin to question your own sanity. Five thousand years could quite easily seem like five years – or five million."

"That would explain a lot about this place," said Yugi. "Everything seems frozen stiff, like the grass, and the sky. Y'know, I must've been here over half a day, but the sun hasn't even started to set. It's just stuck up there, glaring at me like some forgotten Christmas decoration. It was enough to make me wonder if any of this was really happening."

Yugi felt his frustration rise in his gut, calling to mind the hours of fruitless searching he'd wasted trying to explore this indifferent illusion of a forest. He'd been walking for miles over the same pathless tract, with the river as his indomitable guide. Would he have persevered on into obscurity if the spirit hadn't shown up? And if so, then for how long would he have traveled before finally snapping? A week? A month? A year? Two years? Five thousand…?

"Geez, spirit," he began, "how did you manage to get by? Five thousand years of solitude – that's no easy feat. I mean, I know you weren't exactly a people person when we first met, but…"

"You forget, I was within the Millennium Puzzle," the spirit explained. "Its magic allowed me to control my perception of time. You could say I was asleep – hibernating until the chosen one arrived to release me." His eyes narrowed as they traced the horizon, as though they were searching for some distant memory. "That's not to say I didn't experience what it was like to be alone. For not only was I without company; I was without a name – without an identity to call my own." His face lit up, and for one incredible moment Yugi felt alive again. Just to see such undeniable joy on his partner's face was like being able to feel his heart thumping away enthusiastically inside his chest. "That's when you found me, Yugi – and everything changed."

"Everything changed," Yugi repeated to himself thoughtfully.

It was hard to envision a time before he knew the spirit – a time when they hadn't been together. It had only been a few years, but they'd been the sort of years that Yugi would have doubtlessly gone on to cherish for the rest of his life. Years as invaluable as his Egyptian God cards. His grandpa had sometimes spoken of his golden years, and of friends he'd lost touch with over time – friends he'd known since he was Yugi's age, as unimaginable as that was. Whenever he mentioned them, he'd get this winsome look on his face, and Yugi (if he'd been listening at the time) would think: In his heart, he's still there with them; despite what he says, he never truly lost touch with his friends from those golden years so long ago. And then he'd think about the spirit of the Puzzle, and how there was every chance that they might find themselves separated someday, and he would be forced simply to reflect on what precious little time they had together.

Now, it seemed the reverse were true. He and the Pharaoh had all the time in the world to share with one another. It was his other friends – those of flesh and blood – that he had ultimately parted with, that he had been forced to look back on and remember as though they were a part of ancient history, even though they'd been with him as recently as yesterday. While he didn't like to consider what it would be like to lose the Pharaoh, he had still contemplated it – usually in the wee hours of the night, when even spirits needed their slumber. But he had rarely given a single thought to losing Joey, or Téa, or Tristan. If something went wrong, he was sure they'd pull through somehow – that their friendship would be enough to overcome adversity. He had simply taken them for granted.

I should have cherished them, he thought. Cherished them the way I cherished him. The way I still cherish him. But it's too late now.

"Everything changed," he said again, his voice hoarse as though the words were struggling to find purchase. "It changed before I got a chance to appreciate what I had. Those were my golden years, and I never even got to regret losing my friends."

He sobbed weakly and rested his head horizontally across the Pharaoh's slender kneecaps. He would have cried until his eyes were red with indignation, mourning his many stolen memories and reciting the powerless phrase 'It's not fair!' over and over until his lungs deflated. He would have gathered sticks and stones and tossed them savagely into the river, just to lash out at those innumerable faces that laughed in spite of his torment. He would have cried out for his friends, for his grandpa, and lastly for his mother and father. He would have done all this and more, had the spirit not spoken up at the watershed of his lament.

"You may not have to regret it," the spirit spoke cautiously.

"Huh?"

"You may not have to regret losing them," he said once more. He placed a hand on Yugi's shoulder as if to comfort him, although there was something else behind that gesture. It almost felt like a warning. "You may not even have to lose them at all. Yugi – you can always see your friends again. That is, if you really wish to."

--

The old chestnut 'like the back of my hand', often used to describe things we are extremely familiar with, has to be one of the oddest phrases ever coined. It makes little sense, since it suggests that human beings spend an inordinate amount of time studying the backsides of their hands. How this misconception came about, we can't be sure. If anything, human beings are more likely to study their palms, if only because it provides good practice for swindling gullible folk in the fortune telling racket. The only people who really spend much time staring at their hands are writers – and as we all know, they don't really count as people per say.

Yugi Moto, however, is one of the rare exceptions to this general rule. He has an intimate knowledge of the way his hands look – the back of his right hand in particular. You may assume that this is because he is a duelist, and is thus frequently required to shuffle, draw, set, and flip the cards in his deck with that particular appendage. This is only part of the reason Yugi knows his hands so well.

The other – and far more significant – reason, is because Yugi once had something drawn on the back of his right hand – something that meant a great deal to him. It was a symbol of friendship bestowed upon him, and three others, by someone he cared for deeply. Whenever he is in dire need of his friends, he looks to his hand and visualises the thick, black squiggles that once curled their way cheerfully across his youthful skin. They appear to him without fail, looking as clear as they did the day they were drawn; he is even able to smell the pungent, inky residue – a scent he will forever associate with Téa. To most guys, a girl will smell like the perfume she's wearing – strawberries, lavender, etc. To Yugi, she always smelled like a freshly opened marker pen.

When the spirit suggested that he might see his friends again, Yugi's mind immediately turned to that symbol. It had been nothing too extravagant. Téa had asked them each to put their hands together, and then subsequently traced a smiley face – the kind you could find on t-shirts or in text messages– over them, so that it only took form when their fingers touched. Yugi recalled that, since his hand had been trembling something awful (he was busy fretting about his grandpa's health at the time), he'd worried that his nerves might ruin the gesture. But they hadn't, and the four of them came to accept it as a representation of the one fundamental thing that united them in a time of crisis: their friendship.

But as Yugi thought about it, he realised it could no longer stand for something so beautiful; for without the other three hands to compare it to, his quarter of the symbol didn't stand for a thing. It was a fraction of a whole, a tiny piece of a grander puzzle. It only served to remind him that they were gone – that he had left them behind when he passed over. Without them, he felt incomplete. So was it any wonder that he answered the way he did?

"If there's a way to see my friends again, I will do anything it takes."

The spirit nodded solemnly. "I had a feeling you would say that."

"Tell me how, spirit!" Yugi rose to his feet and thrust his hands forward, taking hold of the Pharaoh's shoulders. "Please, you have to show me!"

"Very well," said the spirit, exhaling through his nose. His noble features strained indiscernibly for a second, and he stood up so that he practically towered over his diminutive partner. "But you must first listen to what I have to say. Over time, I have learned how the spirit world works, so you would do well to heed my words. Even if you don't get to see your friends…"

"But you just said-"

"Heed my words," the spirit repeated. "Even if you don't see your friends, it is vitally important that we both stay together. I don't want to lose you again."

"I don't want to lose you either," Yugi agreed, a pink shade blossoming in his cheeks. "But if there's chance to see them again, then I've gotta take it. I can't let them down!"

The spirit chuckled. "Of course. You wouldn't be my partner if you felt differently." He spread his arms to either side of him, his voice now grave and striking as ever. "This place we're in, Yugi – it isn't real. It doesn't actually exist outside of your own thoughts. In a way, it's not unlike our soul rooms." He spoke of the places that Shadi had visited – rooms that lay within the mind, constructed to suit a person's very essence. While the Pharaoh's soul room had been enormously complex, like an ancient catacomb with impossible twists and turns, Yugi's had been colourful and innocent, like a child's playroom. "However, while a soul room is intended to keep a person's essence intact, this place is the opposite. When we die, our souls linger here, waiting to be released. It is, for want of a better term, our purgatory."

Yugi had only a vague sense of what the term meant. "You mean like a jailhouse for souls?"

"In a way, yes," the spirit said. "Except that here, when a soul wishes to leave, it can do so freely of its own accord."

"Wow!" Yugi gasped. "So, we can get out of here? Just like that?"

"It's not that simple," the spirit said. "You've noticed the river, haven't you?"

"You could say that, yeah…"

"You've seen the faces, then?" the spirit asked. When Yugi nodded, he continued: "Those faces belong to other spirits – those who have chosen to accept their fates and move on to the next world, the land of the dead."

"They looked so happy," Yugi whispered. "I couldn't take my eyes off them."

"For some spirits, the river is the only way out," said the Pharaoh, oblivious to Yugi's softly spoken words. "For them, its current provides entry into paradise. But many spirits cannot so much as see themselves within its waters. If they were to fall in, they would surely drown. Their souls would suffocate, and they would slowly fade into nothingness."

"Oh man," Yugi gasped. His eyes widened. "Wait… Are you saying that would've happened to me?"

The spirit closed his eyes. "Yes, Yugi. If I had not arrived in time, you would have been beyond my reach." His jaw seemed to stiffen at this, and his fingers curled into angry white stubs. "By the Gods, I would never have been able to forgive myself if…"

"Don't!" said Yugi. "Don't say that, don't even think it. You were here in time to save me; that's what matters." The spirit seemed to relax, although his knuckles still bore the ruddy remnants of his remorse. "Just out of curiosity, how exactly did you wind up here anyway? Did you get drawn here by the Millennium Puzzle?"

"No, Yugi," the spirit replied. "No, I'm afraid the Millennium Puzzle was damaged in the fire. Its magical energies were warped, and it could no longer sustain me."

So that's it, then, Yugi swallowed. That cinches it. I failed. I was supposed to be the bearer of the Millennium Puzzle – the protector of the Pharaoh's spirit. I was meant to save the world from the return of the Shadow Games… But now look at me. I couldn't even save myself, let alone the rest of the world. I allowed the Puzzle to slip from my fingers. I traded destiny for one of my friends. And now, we're all suffering because of it. I'm the reason the spirit's quest is at an end. He had so much faith in me, too. So much misplaced faith. Everybody did. Heck, even me.

And then, a terrible thought:

Maybe I wasn't supposed to find him.

"Spirits who cannotfollow the river to the land of the dead," the spirit continued, his voice rising over Yugi's inner monologue, "are those who have unfinished business in the world of the living. Their souls will not allow themselves to be cast into the world beyond, and they are torn asunder. Their only hope of survival is to either wander through purgatory for eternity… or become drifters."

"Drifters?" said Yugi. This was another term he had heard before, although its earthly definition was probably not what the spirit had in mind. "My grandpa's always complaining about them."

"I doubt your grandfather has ever seen one," the spirit raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Drifters are souls with the ability to travel from one plane of existence to another." He noticed the look of confusion Yugi was giving him. "For example, this forest we are in represents your soul's personal plane – a unique level in the spirit world."

"So, you might call it a spirit level?" Yugi said, his lips pressed tightly together in a smirk. When the spirit failed to pick up on his pun, he allowed the smile to fade. I bet Joey would've gotten that, he thought despondently.

"Yes," the spirit replied. "Everybody gets their very own spirit level." Joey would have been in stitches right about now. "Those who become drifters are able to visit other spirit levels – or even return to the land of the living, if they so desire."

"They are?" Yugi gaped.

"So I have been told," said the Pharaoh. "You see, in order to reach this forest – your spirit level – I first had to learn how to drift." He turned his eyes skyward and let out a cheerless laugh. "My first experience drifting was little more than a fortunate accident. When I ceased to exist in the land of the living, I found myself in my own personal purgatory. Mine wasn't a forest; instead it was a desert, with dunes the size of small mountain ranges stretching as far as the eye could see."

"Was there a river?" asked Yugi.

"Of course," said the spirit. "And yes, I found myself drawn to it, as I'm sure you were similarly compelled. Somehow it reminded me of home. Remember those Geography classes you took?"

"Uh-huh," Yugi mumbled, thinking he would never had to take another class again. He didn't know whether to be elated or not.

"I would sometimes look at the maps of Egypt your teacher drew on the board," the spirit continued, "and it would strike me just how familiar they appeared. One feature in particular stirred my memories, although it never actually woke any: the River Nile."

"The longest river in the world," said Yugi. "Or at least, the longest in our world."

"I thought I had found it," the spirit said. "Part of me was so sure I had arrived back in my homeland. I felt certain that my quest was finally at an end – that it was time to return to the land of the dead. I wanted so badly to step into that river, to wade through it until its warm waters hugged my waist, and allow those kindred faces to carry me toward the farthest reaches of the spirit world. But something stopped me." He looked down at Yugi. "It was you, Yugi. No matter how strongly I wished to return home, I just couldn't leave you. I knew you were out there somewhere, and I had to find you.

"I turned my back to the river, which in my mind was still calling out to me – telling me that I deserved to rest, that I was no longer bound by any duty to you. I blocked it out; somehow Isilenced those heavenly voices that beckoned my soul to its eternal slumber, and I walked away. I rejected paradise to be with you, and I no more regret it now than I did as I stood on the shores of that river."

"Spirit," said Yugi, overcome by his partner's words. "I… I don't know what to say." In truth, he knew what he wanted to say. In truth, he wanted to yell at the spirit, to tell him that he wasn't worth such a vast sacrifice. Not after he had failed him so completely. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. In truth, he was happy the spirit had returned for him. In truth, he would have done the same. "How did you leave your spirit level? I've tried walking away from the river; it just brought me right back to it."

"Walking away was only the first step," said the spirit. "While I was walking, I began to focus on you – on everything that I could remember about you. I thought of the sound of your voice, of the many colours of your hair, and of the way you shuffle your deck. I thought of your faith in the heart of the cards, and of your faith in your friends. I thought of the mornings when I found you fast asleep, and how I would emerge from the Puzzle just to be there when you woke up. I thought of the way your stomach would tighten whenever you were losing a duel, and of the way it would relax when I gave you advice. I thought of how you were so uncomfortable with your fame, and the way you blushed whenever an attractive girl mentioned she was your biggest fan. I thought of Yugi Moto, and found there was no end to the memories of the one I called my partner; they simply went on forever, just like the river I had forsaken – perhaps even further. And that is when I began to drift."

"Eh-heh," Yugi shuffled his feet, his face a bashful beet-red. "So that's all it took, huh?"

"As I said before, the first time was an accident," the spirit went on. "As soon as I felt my body starting to float, I lost my train of thought – and promptly fell flat on my face in the sand." Yugi couldn't help but snicker at this image of the Pharaoh tripping in mid-air, like some sort of cartoon character. "But I picked myself up and tried again. This time I made sure to concentrate on my memories of you, even as I found myself flying through the air towards a mysterious portal that had opened in the sky. It was only when I had passed through the portal that I allowed myself to fully absorb what was happening. I had crossed over to another plane of existence."

"Is that when you found me?" asked Yugi.

"Actually, no," said the spirit. "The portal had taken me somewhere else entirely, into a dark pocket of abstract images and sounds. At first, I feared that it had taken me to the Shadow Realm, and I had somehow doomed myself to be swallowed by the horrors therein. But before I could turn around and head back the way I came, I was approached by another spirit."

"A person…? Did you recognise them at all?"

"No. He was dressed unlike anyone I had seen in your time, and his face didn't strike me as familiar. He hailed me as a stranger, and introduced himself as a fellow 'drifter'. It seems he had been drifting for centuries, trying to find another means of entering the land of the dead."

"Didn't he want to go back to the land of the living?" asked Yugi. Why anyone in his position should wish to do otherwise had yet to occur to him.

"I asked him as much," the Pharaoh replied. "He didn't really give me an answer, except to say that the living no longer required his services. I then asked him where we were, and he explained that I had stumbled upon a spirit nexus – in other words, a connecting point between worlds. From there, he told me I could travel anywhere I wished, either to another spirit's domain, or the land of the living itself. Except, of course, the land of the dead – which was, in his own words, off-limits to the general public. I thanked him, and wished him luck in his quest, and likewise he wished me luck in mine."

"Wait," Yugi interjected. "Did you tell him you were on a quest?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you actually say to him that you were on a quest?" Yugi pressed. "At any point?"

"Well, no," the spirit said, unease beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. "But he must have assumed, since I had found my way there…"

"Yeah," Yugi replied, somewhat warily. "I guess you're right. So, then what happened?"

"Then," the spirit sucked in air, as though he was about to deliver a long, drawn-out sentence – but it never came, "I found you."

"Oh," Yugi grinned. "Right."

"It took me several hours of searching," the spirit confessed. "There were so many gateways hidden away within the walls of the nexus, to find one that belonged to you seemed an impossible task. I found it easier to concentrate, however, when I thought about you. And just like that, my memories led me here."

"So," said Yugi, "do you suppose that if I concentrated real hard on the memory of my friends, I'd get to see them again?"

"I do," the spirit replied. "But Yugi, please don't be too hasty about this. Think about what you're doing. I have no idea what awaits us in the land of the living. It might be dangerous for two lost souls to venture beyond the spirit world. And although you will be able to see your friends, they will not be able to sense your presence. You will have no way of communicating with them, or letting them know you're there. It could be very unpleasant for you."

"I know," said Yugi. "But spirit, I've made my decision."

"Yugi…"

"Even if they don't know I'm there," he continued, "it makes little difference. I'll still be there for them, in one form or another. They're my friends. I won't abandon them just because I'm…"

"I understand," the spirit said, "and I shall be with you all the way."

Yugi cocked his head toward the spirit. "You're coming along for the ride, then?"

"I wouldn't miss it for all the sand in Egypt," the Pharaoh chuckled. "Besides, just as you need to be with your friends, I need to be by your side. We are partners, Yugi. Not even death could separate us."

"Right!" Yugi beamed, jamming his thumb in the air. "Next stop, Domino City!"

With that, Yugi relaxed his body and began to meditate. He didn't know any proper breathing techniques, nor did he know the correctpostures – for all he knew, the lotus position was an extract from the Kama Sutra – but he knew how to empty his mind. He had learned to do so one hot summer afternoon, when his mind was buzzing with homework problems and dueling strategies – and girls, since that was about the time of year when they all started wearing less and less. The spirit had spoken to him, practically complaining about all the noise inside his head. Yugi had apologised, saying he wished there was something he could do about it. But according to the spirit, there was indeed a way to silence his thoughts.

--

Imagine your thoughts as Duel Monsters cards, the spirit had suggested.

Which ones? Yugi had asked. Because if I'm going to be dueling with them, I'm gonna need a good strong deck. Hey, maybe Dark Magician Girl could-

You're not going to be dueling, the spirit had cut him off. Just place six cards in front of you in your head. Now, upon those cards, place a representation of each of your thoughts.

Yugi had proceeded to do just that. On one card, he mentally sketched the image of a school textbook. On another, he drew a portrait of the Pharaoh dueling against Seto Kaiba – the Pharaoh was, of course, winning by a mile, and the frustration evident on Kaiba's face had been almost comical. He did the same for the other four cards, eventually leading up to the sixth – upon which he placed a lovingly rendered picture of a girl in a bikini.

Yugi! the spirit had spluttered.

Hey, it was your idea! Too late to back out now.

Very well, the spirit had said, sounding a tad disgruntled. Now then, one by one, I want you to turn those cards over. Place them face-down, as though they were in defense mode.

Yugi had done as he was asked. He reached out in his mind and flipped the cards over; first the text book card, then the Pharaoh card, and on, and on, until he was forced to reluctantly turn over the card with the girl winking at him on the front. He was about to ask the spirit what he should do next, when it immediately struck him – his mind was now quiet as a tomb.

Hey! Thanks, spirit!

Don't mention it, Yugi.

But could I at least peek at the last card again?

Yugi…

Aww, c'mon.

--

Now, Yugi found himself emptying his mind in much the same way. He pictured himself turning over six Duel Monsters cards, the last of which depicted a river flowing toward the distant horizon. Once they were all face-down on the ground before him, he found he was able to think clearly for the first time in what seemed like ages. Turning away from the river, he began to walk. And as he walked, he thought.

He thought of Tristan. He thought of the way his hairdo seemed to defy gravity, which of course meant that they both had at least one thing in common. He thought of Tristan's favourite card, the Cyber Commander, and how he'd fallen for that one girl in their class – the one with the ribbon in her hair.

He thought of Joey. He thought of all the tough scrapes they'd been in together, and how Joey always had a joke to crack at just the right (or wrong) time. He thought of the days before Joey became a true duelist, when he would constantly beg Yugi for advice in constructing his deck. He thought of Joey's love for his sister, and how he had used it to fight all the way to the finals of the Duelist Kingdom tournament. He thought of all the times he had seen Joey beaten, only for him to get right back up again with a grin on his face. He thought of how Joey had risked his life for his cards – for their cards.

He thought of Téa. He thought of how she was his oldest friend, and how she'd been the first person to talk to him when he came to Domino High. He thought of how much taller she had seemed back then, and how these days he barely even noticed their height difference. He thought of the way she'd stuck up for him when the other kids would bully him, and how strong-willed she'd been long before they even started going on adventures together. He thought of the first time she'd confessed to her dream of becoming a dancer, and how embarrassed she had been by it. He thought of how he'd longed to watch her dance on a stage. He thought of the scent of freshly opened marker pen.

But most of all, he thought of that symbol on his right hand – and how it would soon be complete once again.

He faintly felt the spirit's hand slipping gently into his, and something in his gut seemed to buckle. Then he tilted his head back, and saw that high above them a portal had appeared. It looked like someone had opened a skylight in the clouds. Yugi hadn't noticed that they'd begun to float upwards, or that they were already high above the treetops. He didn't hear the spirit when he said: "We're doing it, Yugi! We're drifting!" For he was too busy thinking of his friends.

After all, he knew them like the back of his hand.

--

END OF CHAPTER FOUR