Slight delay in getting this out. A few things have demanded my attention (or else stolen it) this month, and sometimes inspiration just takes a while to work itself out. I'm not the type to wait for inspiration to strike, but I'm also not the type to force things.
Trying to force a story forward when it isn't ready to advance just doesn't seem like a good idea to me. There's a happy medium. I've spent the past 15 years or so trying to figure out where, exactly, it is.
This all aside, however, we have some things to discuss. So shall we begin?
1.
"Not really."
Yugi Mutou wears his emotions where everyone can read them, which makes Seto immediately aware that this answer is the last one Yugi wanted to hear; Seto feels suddenly guilty, but he can't help it. History, ancient or otherwise, has never interested him.
"Oh." Yugi bounces back quickly—something that Seto is already starting to notice—but this is apparently a serious blow. "Well, that's okay. I get it. I guess there aren't many kids that like history. Not really."
"I don't think about the past," Seto says, abruptly, before his better judgment could stop him. "Not mine, and . . . not the world's." He wonders, probably because Yugi is apparently passionate about this, if his view on the subject would have been different if—if not for—
Yugi's expression changes. ". . . Right. Of course. I'm sorry."
This isn't the response that Seto would have expected, but he's slowly gotten used to being surprised by people. Ever since that first visit from Mister Crawford, very rarely have things gone the way Seto predicts. So, he has resolved to simply absorb, observe, and evaluate. Predictions, Seto has realized on some level, do him no good.
Not until he has more information.
"You wanted to show me something," Seto says, after a few more seconds of silence.
"Well . . . I mean . . . I don't think you'd be really interested, if you're not—it's . . ."
Seto realizes something; something Téa has probably known for a long time: Yugi Mutou is just as socially awkward and shy as Seto himself. He simply uses a different method to hide it. Seto relies on intimidation; Yugi, on effervescence.
If Seto were a more romantic type, he might have said that he and Yugi are two sides of the same coin. Since he is not, he simply files this information away without any labels or metaphors. Metaphors, like history, don't interest Seto Yagami.
"Maybe you'll change my mind," Seto says, gently, even though he doubts this very much. Somehow, even though Seto can't figure it out, he and Yugi Mutou have become friends. This means that compromises must be made. He has limited experience with this, but Mokuba has provided Seto with enough experience to get by.
Yugi's face brightens.
"Really? Do you think?"
He starts to dig into his book bag, and Seto waits to see what it is that his friend is so frantic to show him. Something historical. Something special. He remembers talk of a puzzle.
When Seto spies the golden box, and its exquisite workmanship, his interest is piqued.
He leans forward, eyes sparkling, in spite of himself.
What's in the box?
2.
"This is . . . surprising."
Natsumi Mutou is no stranger to guests in her home, nor strangers. Sugoroku has been running the Turtle for a long time now. However, she never would have thought that a man from such social circles as Pegasus Crawford would have had cause to meet with her twice.
The first meeting was a fluke. This meeting seems to be more than that.
Pegasus bows his head as he steps inside the shop. "Good afternoon, Missus Mutou. My apologies for dropping in unannounced."
"This is a place of business," Natsumi says with a smile, from her place behind the counter; Sugoroku is out on an errand, and has yet to hire a clerk full-time, leaving Natsumi here despite her total lack of knowledge concerning anything the Turtle sells. "It's hardly necessary to announce yourself. Please. What can I do for you?"
Pegasus bows again, with a grin splitting his face, and says, "It has little to do with what you might do for me, Missus Mutou. I simply wished to talk to you about something concerning Seto Yagami."
Natsumi blinks in surprise. "Seto? What about him?"
"I am presuming that he hasn't informed that his birthday is this month?"
Another blink. Another surprise. ". . . No, actually. He hasn't."
"It's the twenty-fifth." Pegasus begins to pace across the shop's floor, looking pensive. "He will no doubt be displeased by this. I am overstepping my boundaries, invading his privacy. However, as I understand it, this poor boy has never had a proper birthday party. He's received gifts, to be sure, but a party? Surely any young boy deserves such a thing. Mister Daniel Elliot and myself are planning just such a celebration, and I wished to personally extend an invitation to you and yours."
"He'll be embarrassed if he gets too much attention, won't he?" Natsumi asks, understanding quite well why Pegasus looks so apprehensive about his business here today. "And what about the other children? I doubt they wil appreciate it, either."
Pegasus grins. "I have a plan to offset that. Will you come? Or, at least, will you permit your son? I think it would be fair to say that young Yugi is his only friend."
Natsumi can't help but smile. ". . . Of course." She raises an eyebrow. "May I ask, though—what is your intention with this boy? You seem rather unusually interested in his welfare."
"I'm being presumptuous, of course, but it is my intention to adopt him. And even if the gods see fit to deprive me of that, I surely intend to make his life a little better. The orphans of my city are a largely forgotten lot. I intend to see that corrected, one child at a time. I suppose Seto Yagami is simply . . . first."
There are several things that strike Natsumi as odd about that statement.
But only one haunts her, because there is no way for her to figure out what it could possibly mean.
The gods?
3.
"So this is your puzzle."
Seto picks up a single golden piece from inside the box, and stares at it. Yugi, bursting with energy, nods until it looks like his teeth might rattle straight out of his head. "Grandpa found it! He was an archaeologist, see, before he retired and opened up the shop, and he got this on a dig!"
Seto picks up another piece, then sets both back in the box and plucks out two more. He isn't sure how it's supposed to go together yet, but he already feels a certain thrum of excitement. He's never seen a three-dimensional puzzle before, but the idea fascinates him. He wonders if he'll be allowed to help Yugi put it together.
He realizes with a jolt that Yugi is still talking.
". . . So he was visiting Egypt with a friend that year, and—"
"Egypt?"
The word, just two simple syllables, escapes Seto's mouth before he realizes he's even spoken. Something twitches in his mind, something that's always been there. Something that doesn't have a name. Some shard of memory, some impossible little sliver of intuition, wakes up when he hears that word.
Egypt.
Kemet.
The Black Land.
He didn't lie to Yugi about his disinterest in history. His schooling has barely covered the subject. Sure, there was that project in second grade where he was required to pick an animal and invent an Ancient Egyptian god out of it, but other than that . . . he knows next to nothing.
So why does this puzzle look familiar?
And why does it make him feel so . . . sad?