Chapter 27: Walking Forward
"I'm right here." It was a comfort to no one else, and it was barely a comfort to Yuugi, but every little while, he repeated it anyway. Like saying it aloud could be the spell to keep him from disappearing, from passing on to somewhere worse, from leaving his friends behind.
He'd seen Yami use the necklace, but there was no way of telling what it had shown him. Certainly not Yuugi's death—there would have been a stronger reaction for that. Part of him wished he could be mad that his friend hadn't tried it again or reasoned out the truth, but the rational rest of him knew there was no cause for him to ever suspect it, not when their mental bond was still present, if unfunctioning; not when Yuugi's body was nowhere to be found; and not when the other god cards had never done more than knock a player unconscious. Even Odion was awake and about now, a little dehydrated but definitely alive.
Yori would have seen him, surely. If she'd been awake. If she'd been okay. But then again, she'd never mentioned seeing dead people wandering around at random, so maybe the bracelet was as fickle as the rest of the items. As fickle as the gods.
"If I died while wearing the puzzle, do I just stay a spirit forever? Is that what happened to Yami?" Yuugi looked up, but all he saw was ceiling. Ra spoke when he wanted to speak, not when Yuugi prodded him to.
So Yuugi just watched. He watched Joey and Duke start to bridge old wounds with a card; he watched Tristan give advice on girls; he watched Anzu chide the Ishtars in her best mama-bear voice. He watched his friends move forward with no idea he was gone. He watched the finalists gather, and he watched Fuguta explain the Qualifier, and when Yami froze at the threshold of the match, he watched, because he could do nothing else.
"You can do it, partner," he whispered, even though he would never be heard again. "You're stronger than anyone."
In the end, Yami moved forward, and it had nothing to do with Yuugi's encouragement. It had nothing to do with Yuugi at all.
From the moment he'd solved the puzzle and invited a flood of millennium chaos into his life, Yuugi had insisted he was no one special. Just a kid who liked games. The insecurities were real, and some days they roared so loudly he could hardly get out of bed, but he'd always found solace in the simple, stupid fact that in at least one way, he was needed—someone had to carry the puzzle. From day one, he'd admired Yami's strength and fierceness as much as he'd feared it, and after they'd become friends, he'd comforted himself with the idea that if he was helping in no other way, at least he could share his life and make it possible for Yami to have one as well.
But now he was dead.
And Yami was just fine.
So he really was no one special. No one useful. No one needed.
Anzu would have scolded him for the thought, but she couldn't hear it. Even if he'd been able to tell her, she was busy worrying about Marik.
"Selfishness is easy," his mother's voice whispered in his memory, "and it's tempting. And it's terrible."
Well, I'm dead anyway, Yuugi thought. So who cares.
Ra's voice eventually came again: /Are you ready to have your life back?/
And despite all his morbid thoughts, Yuugi said, "I'm fine here, thanks."
Maybe that was selfishness in and of itself. Maybe he was tired of trying to be good and muddling his way through life when it seemed determined to beat him down at every turn. Maybe it was easier to be dead.
And yet.
Even if he was useless.
Even if it was selfish.
"I'll figure it out," he said. "The reason you need my permission. The puzzle of what limits a god."
He'd given in to despair at the warehouse fire, and he'd regretted it. Thankfully, Yori had been there to save him.
This time, maybe he could save himself.
If he was going to solve the puzzle, he needed more pieces. Since the moment he'd discovered he could move at a thought, he'd been certain to keep his thoughts focused on—almost desperately clinging to—his friends. He'd been afraid to look farther, afraid at any moment he might reach some invisible limit and lose the only connection he had left—the faint mental link that bound him to Yami. But pushing his limits would give him information, and information would lead him to his answer.
Be brave, he told himself. It wasn't one of his strengths, but it was one of Yami's, and he'd had plenty of time to study.
The night before Battle City, he'd asked Yami if he was scared.
"No," the spirit had answered. Then he'd frowned in sudden concern. "Should I be?"
"I mean, maybe?" Yuugi had given a nervous laugh, one that cracked his voice. "Yori said the Ghoul leader controls minds. What if he gets to us and makes us do something . . . awful?"
Yami was silent for a while before he finally said, "I've never found it helpful to worry about everything an opponent might do. If I were to agonize over ten potential strategies ahead of time, I would have ten opportunities to feel fear about overcoming them. If I take things as they come in the moment, I have only one reality to concern myself with and one opportunity for fear."
"I guess that's one way of putting it." Somehow, Yuugi was convinced he could find ten opportunities for fear in only one reality.
As if he'd guessed the heart of the issue, Yami gripped his shoulder and smiled. "There's no secret to bravery, partner. It's just walking forward."
Bravery is just walking forward, Yuugi reminded himself. Walk forward, Yuugi. Walk forward.
He closed his eyes and thought of his grandpa.
When he opened them, he saw the crowded shelves and postered walls of the game shop.
And at the back of his mind, he still felt the mental bond. He'd gone all the way back to Domino, and he hadn't lost anything.
Behind the counter, Grandpa tied on his apron, just as he did every morning before opening. He was whistling a children's song about sakura festivals, one that Yuugi's mother used to sing at bedtime, and before Yuugi knew it, he was humming along.
Yozakura, see the stars fall,
Catch a petal,
Catch a petal,
Keep your pocket-star.
"I'm home, Grandpa," Yuugi said aloud, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes. Even if he got no response, the simple familiarity brought a smile to the boy's face.
Until a beetle the size of a car ripped the front door off its hinges.
Yori had long since given up labelling things as "impossible." It seemed the wisest choice for her chaotic life. So she looked at Shadi's father calmly and asked, "Am I in the past?"
After all, if Ishizu's necklace could see the future, there was no reason the bracelet couldn't throw her in the past.
Shada gestured to another stool. He didn't speak again until she'd seated herself beneath the canopy. Although the shade felt cooler than the sun, the sun hadn't burned like normal. It had been warm without discomfort, just as the shade was cool without the same. Before he said it, she knew it couldn't possibly be the real world.
"This is not your past. It is the world of spirits."
"Like . . . the underworld? The afterlife?" Yori looked out at the distant, crumbling houses once more.
"Is it not as you expected?"
She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles, shrugging. "I didn't expect anything."
"Because you do not like to think of what lies after death. There are a great many things you do not like to think of."
"So it's true." She swallowed. "I was alive in Egypt 3,000 years ago. I knew you and Shadi and . . . Yami."
"You knew it was truth the moment my son told you."
"Spying on me." Yori gave a tight smile. "Nothing better to do in the afterlife?"
His own smile was relaxed. "I have time to do all I wish. Your time, however, is running out."
She knew the truth of that, too, because even while she sat with him in the spirit world, she could feel the beast prowling just beyond her senses, like a cold window at the edge of a room reminding cozy occupants of an outside winter.
"I lost a shadow game," she said.
"I'm aware. But defeat is not the end unless we choose it to be." Shada rose. "You sought me for help to rise again, and help I will provide."
She wanted to say she hadn't sought him out at all, that she'd just reached out with the bracelet without a clue where she was going, but it felt pointless to argue, and seeing him felt so natural that maybe he was right.
"I'm not your daughter, am I?" The question brought a familiar ache to her chest. "I know most people don't have to ask."
His expression took on a shade of pity. "I never knew your parents, not even their names. The circumstances of your birth were not—"
"Doesn't matter." She slapped her hands down on her knees and then rose to stand beside him. "How do I force out the monster in my mind?"
"You have always done that," he said. "Run from the unknown devils to those of a familiar shape. With enough determination, you stay steps ahead of your own mind and the shadows within it. But if you wish to survive, you can do so no more."
Before Yori could ask what he meant, the world of sand and sun disappeared into black like a light going out.
She was back in the game with Marik. He leered at her from across the field, only holographic monsters between them, useless as air—and the air was cold, so cold, stealing her breath, scraping her throat. Images of Haku played on every side, leering at her along with Marik, the two of them like circling wolves closing in on a limping doe. Yori tried to turn, tried to back away, but she only drew cards and played cards and made empty quips to fill the silence, to drown what lurked beneath it. The game played out just as it had in reality. She was powerless to change it.
And when Marik drew Ra, she saw her loss reflected in his eyes along with the glee.
Then the darkness fled, and she was back in the spirit world.
She ducked away from Shada, gasping. She braced her trembling hands on the waist-high wall that fenced in the rooftop. The sun wasn't hot enough to burn the memory out. The stone wasn't cold enough to freeze her tremors.
"The shadows fractured your mind with fear," Shada said. "Even if not shown in images during the game, every demon you've ever tried to bury was brought to the surface. A lifetime of unresolved terror quickly stacks into a crushing mountain."
"You're telling me to 'face my fears'?" Yori shook her head. "No thanks. Just tell me how to fight the monster."
"This is how." Shada moved to stand beside her, though she didn't look at him. "The weakness the shadows have found in your heart is your inability to contend with fear."
She dug her fingertips into the stone, pressed her nail tips white. In her mind, she heard the echo of Yami's voice from her first shadow game. "The weakness the shadows have found in your heart . . ."
Shada pressed on. "Your opponent recognized his fears. He made no attempt to hide; he accepted, which allowed him to be triumphant. Even in plain sight, you attempted to run, attempted to hide. You looked nothing in the eyes, playing the foolish child's game of 'If I can't see you, you can't see me,' which only left you fighting blind."
Yori's stomach shrank back against her spine. Even so, she kept her voice confident and scathing, just as she had during the game. "Wow, great kid gloves. Glad I came to you for comfort."
"You did not come to me for comfort. You came to me for help, and help requires honesty."
She was well aware she hid from her fears. But it wasn't a weakness; it was a survival necessity. She had learned quickly in life that if she allowed herself to be afraid, she'd become paralyzed. Scared kids couldn't survive without parents and guardians. Scared kids couldn't steal, couldn't fight, couldn't lie, couldn't last.
"Fearless is the only path I know," she said.
"You have never stepped foot on a fearless path," Shada argued. "A pot is not waterless because it contains nothing; it is waterless because the water which once filled it has been emptied. So, too, a fearless path is one in which fear has been faced and emptied. It is not the sideways trail darted down to avoid what is lurking on the main path."
Yori wished she were anywhere else, recognizing even as she did so that she was proving his point exactly.
"This is how I survive," she said, voice cracking. "If I ever stopped to look in the mirror, I'd never move again."
He gripped her shoulder gently. His blue eyes were soft, as Shadi's had been on the cold October day she'd met him.
"I don't believe that," he said. "I believe you will not only move again, but you will move fearlessly, capable of things never previously imagined."
She could hope he was right, but either way, it didn't matter. In the consequences of a shadow game, there were only two options: survive or surrender. She had no intention of losing her mind to the shadows, which meant she had to face and overcome her fears, and she had to do so before the beast swallowed her completely.
"Teach me," she said.
While Ishizu chose to stay with Odion, Anzu made her way to the Duel Tower. She jogged down the blimp's lowered entryway stairs, and the moment her platform sandals hit the dirt, it was like returning home. There was just something about solid ground, the reliability of it, the reality in it. Kaiba's island looked like a city after an airstrike, and in all honesty, her insides felt much the same, but the solid ground made her feel like she could go forward anyway.
Two paths had been cleared in the rubble, both leading to the single tower that loomed at the center of the island. Anzu followed the one marked for "spectating," and it led her past piles of concrete rubble and twisted metal to a group of people already gathered at a tower entrance.
"Anzu!" Serenity shouted, waving before she even reached the group. The girl's smile was as bright as ever. Duke stood next to her, looking a bit miffed that she'd pulled her hand out of his in order to wave. But her other hand was occupied—holding what looked like a white banner.
"You weren't at breakfast," Ryou said. Where Serenity's smile was chipper, his looked a bit relieved, possibly because he'd been third wheel to a couple until Anzu had arrived.
"I was . . ." Anzu blushed. She would have loved to run Marik's situation by Ryou in private; she had a feeling he would be the most understanding of her friends. But they weren't in private. So she pointed at Serenity's banner instead. "Is that for Joey?"
"It is!"
The girl grabbed either edge of the banner and spread it wide, displaying bold red text, which read "Joey Wheeler, Fighting!"
"Krisalyn helped me make it this morning," she said, grinning. "She found the fabric and the markers and everything. I know it's kind of a patch job, but I hope he likes it."
"He'll love it." There was no question.
"Tristan's not with you?" Ryou stood on tiptoe and peered down the path.
Anzu glanced over her shoulder. "I haven't seen him all morning. Have you?"
"Well, he was at breakfast, but I left first."
"He'll be here," she said confidently. He'd probably just stopped for an insulin shot.
Unfortunately, she wasn't so sure about Mokuba. She'd expected him to be at the tower to cheer his brother on, but maybe he had his own viewing spot. After all, it was his brother's tournament and island.
"Has anyone checked on Yori?" Duke asked.
Anzu shifted uncomfortably.
"I haven't," Ryou said. "But Yuugi was with her all night, and when I spoke to him, he said there's been no change."
Duke frowned, and Serenity looked crestfallen at the news.
"Hey, but Odion's awake!" Anzu said. As she'd hoped, everyone perked up a bit. "I visited him right before I came."
"Oh, good!" Serenity said. "I'm sure Yori will wake up soon, too!"
Anzu could only share that hope, along with so many others.
The door to the Duel Tower suddenly swung open, and a KaibaCorp guard ushered them inside with the greeting, "Welcome to the Battle City finals!"
They all hesitated, but Tristan chose that moment to come tearing up the path, so it wasn't much of a hesitation.
"You made it, mate!" Ryou said.
Whatever Tristan's response might have been, it was lost as he doubled over and wheezed for breath.
Anzu rolled her eyes. "Pretty sure you didn't have to run. It's not like they're locking people out."
"How am I . . . supposed . . . to know!" he panted.
As they all made their way into the tower, Anzu saw someone else already waiting, and her heart leapt into her throat.
"Mokuba!" she burst out.
The dark-haired boy blinked. He exchanged a glance with the KaibaCorp guard at his side. "Yes?"
"I'm just glad to see you." Everyone gave her a weird look for that, and she blushed again.
"Um . . . okay." He laughed a little awkwardly. "Nice to see you too, Anzu."
Tristan had apparently recovered from his near-death track experience, and he leaned an elbow on Anzu's shoulder, whispering, "What's up with you?"
"Nothing," she hissed back. "I just—"
"If all spectators will please proceed this way"—the first guard gestured to a waiting elevator—"I've received word that we are ready to begin."
Mokuba and his bodyguard stepped in first, followed by Duke and Serenity. Anzu slid in next to Ryou, and as the elevator doors closed, she snuck a glance at the youngest Kaiba brother, wondering how she was ever going to manage a private conversation with him in the middle of the tournament.
For Marik's sake, she would just have to figure something out.
Note: Hey, guys. I apologize for how long it's been. Some of my excuse is what you would expect: the current craziness in the world, trying to check in on family and friends I don't live near, adjusting to sudden changes. Some of my excuse is also unexpected side-effects from my medication, which interfered with my moods and creativity. Regardless of the reasons, just know that I'm still here, and I'll keep working through whatever obstacles come. I hope you're all doing well. Thank you to all the new faves and follows! Usually I send personal thank-you messages, but I can't keep up with that right now. Hopefully I can get back to it in the future.
If anyone is interested, I'm joining a worldwide fast this Sunday, March 29th, to ask for God's help with the physical, mental, and economic effects of the pandemic on the world. If you're religious or not religious, if you've fasted before or never have, everyone is welcome to join, and it's something that can be done from home. I'll be going two meals without food or water (breakfast and lunch) because that's how I was taught to fast, but everyone can do it their own way, whatever works for you. Fasting is always hard for me because I love food too much (please don't ask me how often I buy pizza, haha). But I'm a firm believer in the saying that sacrifice brings forth the power of heaven. I believe God honors heartfelt effort, even when it's small. I've helped get masks to hospitals, I've tried to protect and assist my elderly and immunocompromised friends, but this is something I can do, too. Anyway, this Sunday, if you're interested.
I can't promise when the next update will happen, especially now that we're back in duel territory, which is harder for me to write. Right now, my goal is to make sure I get at least one chapter up per month. I know that isn't great compared to my normal, and I wish I could get back to every week, but I also don't want to make a promise I can't keep. So for at least a little while, let's plan on one per month and see if I maybe manage a surprise. Again, I hope you guys are doing well, wherever you are. And I hope you enjoyed the chapter!