Chapter 41: It's Time

Yami sought Joey out, but as it happened, the blond was already looking.

"Joey—"

"Hang on a sec, man." Joey lifted a hand to stop him. "I got something I gotta say first."

It took all of Yami's willpower to clench his jaw shut. Whatever Joey was about to say would only make him feel worse. Red-Eyes Black Dragon seemed to burn in his deck pouch, and he itched under the heat.

"We ain't gotta duel."

Yami blinked.

"I started Battle City try'na prove myself, and that won't be finished 'til it's all finished, but I also started it with a promise about my friends. I said as hard as I fought for myself, I'd fight that hard for you and Yuugi, too."

Joey clapped him on the shoulder, his eyes serious. "I woulda fought Marik for you, I hope you know. But I think it's somethin' only you can do. So what I can do is not stand in the way. You say the word, and our duel's done. No delay. No hard feelings."

Yami's throat grew tighter with every word until he could hardly breathe.

"Joey—" he choked out.

Joey looked away, sniffing. "Man, don't get all sappy. I'm crap at it."

He laughed, and Yami managed a smile.

"Thank you, Joey. You've always been a true friend."

Joey winced. "Come on, man. Not always. But I am trying." He took a deep breath. "So . . . good luck, I guess. I don't trust Marik as far as I could swallow him, but if anyone can beat the creep, it's you."

"I think you could, too," Yami said seriously. "You've come so far. I think you have everything it takes to win the battles that matter most."

Joey swiped at his eyes.

"What'd I say about sap?" he complained. "I got the crawly-ants feeling and everything." He looked away, hesitating, and then asked, "You really think I got what it takes to beat Kaiba?"

"With all my heart."

"Thanks, Yami."

And Yami suddenly understood what he meant by the crawly-ants feeling. His smile widened.

"Come on," he said. "Let's make my defeat official."

It only took a few minutes to hunt the referee down, and when Yami announced his surrender, the man blinked several times. He checked a handheld device, as if it might announce a planned prank or perhaps coach him through a proper response.

"This is highly unusual," he said at last. "Although there are no official rules against it, I do hope this isn't simply . . ."

He trailed off awkwardly and adjusted his tie.

"Me surrendering to make a friend look good?" Yami finished for him.

The referee glanced at Joey and gave something of a helpless shrug.

"Believe me," Yami said. "I would have much rather faced him, win or lose."

"And Rich-boy will never let me live this down," Joey grumbled. "Even if I beat him, he'll say . . . well, I'm sure he'll have a whole speech. Somethin' about him bein' robbed, me bein' carried, and definitely somethin' about dogs."

Yami frowned, but before he could speak, Joey went on.

"Let him think what he wants." He squared his shoulders. "I gotta stop carin'. That's part of all of it."

More than ever, Yami wished Yuugi were present. He would be so proud of his best friend.

Without a word, Yami unsnapped his deck pouch. The cards he wanted practically leapt to his fingers, and while he returned the rest to their pouch, he extended two, their titles facing Joey.

Red-Eyes Black Dragon and Osiris, the Great Storm God.

"Choose your ante," Yami said.

Joey's jaw dropped. He shook his head fiercely.

"An ante is part of a Battle City defeat," the referee said, voice firm even as he still looked like he was hoping to wake from a bizarre dream.

"I don't deserve it," Joey protested. "It ain't a real victory."

"Believe me, Joey"—Yami's voice softened—"it is."

Joey stared helplessly. His jaw worked without a sound.

"I could have a god card," he finally whispered. He stared at Yami with wide eyes.

"If you want it," Yami confirmed.

"But won't you need it to beat Marik?"

Yami remembered Shadi's words: If you do not gain the remaining two god cards and the other Millennium Items, then every sacrifice to this point will have been for nothing.

The shadows whispered in his ears: Only power can protect.

But even so, Yami knew what his priorities were.

There had been no god card for Pegasus. No god card for any of Marik's minions. In fact, every great victory of Yami's short life had depended very little on the measurable power at his disposal and much more on the strength of his trust—in Yuugi, in himself.

In Yori.

"I trust what I have," Yami said simply.

Joey reached out. His fingertips brushed the crimson god.

"Rich-boy's got two now." He swallowed. "If he took Marik's."

Yami said nothing.

Joey's gaze shifted to the second dragon. "Red-Eyes an' me, we been in it since the beginning. But Obelisk has got 4000 attack. Red-Eyes'll always be 2400. Osiris could be 5000, 6000. Unlimited. Just as long as I got cards."

Yami kept his expression neutral; this wasn't his decision to make.

In the end, Joey set his jaw, and he took a card.

It took all of Yami's power to keep that neutral expression—to restrain his approving smile—as he returned Osiris to his deck.

"I'm the biggest idiot." Joey laughed weakly. "Rich-boy would say so. But I trust what I got, too."

"For all his talk," Yami said, "Kaiba would also choose his dragon over a god."

And that was exactly why he'd been able to defeat one. Joey was no different.

The referee cleared his throat. "Mr. Mutou, there is one other matter. Upon defeat, you do realize . . ." The man hesitated, then went on, "You do realize this also means the surrender of your title. Pegasus's rules, not ours."

"I'm aware. Joey's the King of Games now."

It was just a title, but all the same, Yami felt a sharp pinch at the loss. Being "King of Games" meant nothing, not really, but he had so very little identity in the world that losing any part of it felt significant. But the victory over Pegasus had been much more than winning a title, and that reality remained.

If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?

It would be saving the people he loved. That was the only reason he'd ever won games to begin with.

Yami gripped the chain of the puzzle, and he took a deep breath.

In that same instant, he felt the heat of the puzzle in his mind, and his surroundings vanished. Startled, he turned—

Only to see Yori standing on the frosted porch of an orphanage, the windows casting yellow light on a layer of snow. She held her hand out, smiling as a few snowflakes fluttered past her palm.

"I know who I am," she said softly.

Yami tried to shout her name, but his voice stuck in his throat. His legs wouldn't move.

"Who I am," she said, "doesn't have much to do with family or names or memories at all. It just has to do with me."

A burst of wind stole Yami's breath, and the vision disappeared in a whirl of snowflakes, leaving him shivering on the blimp, looking at a confused referee.

"King of Games!" Joey reeled away, oblivious. "I couldn't possibly. The ante's one thing, but I couldn't. That's Yuug!"

Yami shook his head, slowly readjusting. He couldn't begin to guess at what he'd seen beyond one thing—Yori was still lost in the dark. And he had a promise to keep.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, already turning away.

Without even meaning to, he sped into a jog, then a run. The puzzle knew his intentions, and the shadows seemed to rush ahead of him with every step, dashing around corners and down hallways until they brought him to his destination.

Until he was standing before Marik.

"Well, well, well." The Egyptian bared his teeth and raised the rod. "I guess it's time."

"I think it's time"—Ryou tried to keep his voice from wavering—"that you tell me why you hate the pharaoh."

He knew Nakhti heard, but the spirit said nothing.

Ryou gripped the edge of his bed. His fingers trembled, just as his voice had.

Overhead, an announcement crackled: "Attention, passengers. In an unexpected turn of events, the penultimate match has already been decided. Yuugi Mutou has surrendered. Joey Wheeler advances with Seto Kaiba to the championship match, which will be held in ten minutes at the Duel Tower. May the best finalist win!"

Ryou had never imagined the pharaoh would surrender anything. He still remembered standing atop Pegasus's castle, watching Kaiba balance at the edge of a hundred-foot drop, daring Yami to attack.

He still remembered Yami's cold, hard eyes as he did.

"I can imagine it," Ryou said quietly. "How he would make enemies."

But he also remembered what Yami had been fighting for. What he was always fighting for.

This is my partner's life. I'd give you the puzzle were it possible.

Ryou sighed.

In a blink, Nakhti appeared, fangs bared.

"You're jealous," he said.

Ryou frowned. "Being a spirit isn't my ideal—"

"You're jealous of Yuugi. His item came equipped with a king, and you got a sneaky, backstabbing thief. A table-flipper. A life-wrecker."

It wasn't exactly untrue, but for some reason, Ryou still bristled.

"Why do you do that?" he demanded.

"Wreck lives?" The spirit spread his hands wide. "Just my nature."

"No, bait people. You can't just have a normal conversation. Everything you say's got thorns."

Like telling someone he'd dragged their father's corpse behind a horse. Ryou couldn't imagine doing such a thing to his worst enemy. Not even the driver who'd killed his mother and sister.

Nakhti grinned. "I like to see people bleed."

Ryou stood, bringing himself eye-to-eye with the spirit. "I want to help you. But I can't if you won't let me."

The grin split into a laugh. "Help me? Since when?"

"You know since when. I bargained with the shadows for you. And when I got lost in them, you pulled me back. I don't care if Yuugi got a king, but I'd like to think I got a friend." Ryou set his jaw. "You tell me."

Nakhti held his gaze with steel and thorns. "We're not friends."

And Ryou tried not to let the hurt show on his face.

"So be it," he whispered.

He turned away, the door sliding closed behind him.

It was chaos on the blimp. The overhead announcement hardly finished before Joey found himself swarmed by everyone, drowning in questions.

"Where's Yuugi?" Anzu demanded, scowling him up and down like she'd find the guy hidden in Joey's pocket.

"You're dueling Kaiba?" Tristan asked, face scrunched and drooping like he was confirming Joey's tombstone.

"You're still competing?" Duke wanted to know, while Serenity squealed, "Does this mean you'll win the whole tournament?"

"EVERYBODY, QUIET!" Joey bellowed. He didn't know which question to answer—didn't want to answer a few—so he said, "You heard the announcement."

And then he wished he'd brought a watch.

And he wished he knew where Kris had gone and if somebody told her about announcements.

And he wished he wasn't King of Games.

And he wished he knew how to beat a god, and he wasn't sure if he was even thinking of cards or just of Kaiba.

"Let's all just stay calm," he said, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Easy for you to say," Anzu huffed, craning her neck to look down the hall.

Joey could have strangled her.

"I bet Kaiba won't even show," Tristan said, shrugging. "He'll just have himself declared winner and be done."

Which hadn't even occurred to Joey as a possibility. He groaned, pressing his fists to his forehead.

"Kitto katsu," he whispered, and he tried to believe it was possible.

Yami thought it was.

So that was something.

And then Rich-boy himself appeared at the end of the hall.

Everything went silent.

Kaiba glided forward with his giraffe legs, every step ringing against the metal floor like the clang of a death bell, and he came to a stop towering over Joey.

Joey felt a trickle of sweat down his spine.

If murder had a look, it belonged to Seto Kaiba. Except it was worse than that, because it was a look that would kill but also a look that said what an unworthy hassle it would be. Like the grim reaper looking down at the next name on his list and begrudging time that would be better spent watching water boil.

Something snapped inside, and Joey opened his mouth—

But Kaiba had already walked forward. His little brother dogged at his heels, and this time, Mokuba didn't say a word of encouragement to Joey.

So be it.

Joey stuck a hand in his pocket, and he felt the lucky pig charm.

We're the underdogs.

"Let's do this," Joey growled.

Note: Ring in the new year, and may it be a great one because we make it so. ^^