Twenty-five. I don't know what it is about the numbers that make up common fractions, but somehow they strike me as particularly noteworthy, every time they come up.
Just think. If this story were 100 chapters long, just say, then this would be the quarter mark.
… Of course, if it's longer than that, then … well, decidedly less impressive, I guess, but anyway!
There's an important event looming ahead, so I guess we'd best get to it.
Join me, won't you?
1.
Ironically, it isn't until Seto sits down again that he realizes—all at once—that he shouldn't have gotten out of bed in the first place. He's hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea that threatens to topple him over. He blinks, too slowly, and stares at the bowl in front of him. Will it have answers? Is it supposed to tell him something?
Seto is only slightly surprised when he's lifted off his feet by strong arms that shouldn't be familiar . . . except they are.
"Change of plans," Pegasus says as he carries Seto out of the cafeteria; he has a tone of voice that Seto doesn't recognize . . . at first. And then he does. And with that realization comes yet another wave of feeling that he didn't think he'd be having tonight.
Nostalgia.
It's the same no-nonsense voice that his mother used to have, when she would brook no further argument.
Seto is grateful that being horizontal again—roughly, anyway—has helped him clear his head. He isn't groggy, or sleepy, so much as just . . . well, sick. He looks around. Ellie has the bowl of soup Pegasus had laid out for him, held almost daintily in both hands. Mokuba is chasing after them.
"I thought . . . I was better," Seto murmurs regretfully.
Pegasus is looking down at him now. Seto thinks he catches something gold behind the man's hair, but no. That can't be. Who wears gold on their face? It isn't an earring; it certainly isn't a nose ring.
He must be seeing things.
"You say that as though an apology is waiting in line," Pegasus says, snapping Seto out of his odd thoughts. "Put it from your mind. You're ill, Seto. Even if you had done something worth apologizing for, which you didn't, you would be excused." He smiles, then sighs, and puts his vision back in front of him. "That being said, you have to eat something. How's your stomach?"
Seto grunts. ". . . Okay. I guess. Maybe."
"Worth the gamble, I suppose," Pegasus mumbles to himself. "Hasn't had anything all day. Hmmmm . . ." He turns his head. "Keeping up, there, little warrior? I'm going to need your assistance."
"Here," Mokuba's voice rings out clear as the proverbial bell.
"Good boy."
And that's the last thing anybody says until Seto is transported back to bed, propped up by every pillow in the room. It's well after dark by this point, and Seto knows he should sleep. But he also knows that Pegasus is right.
He should eat something.
He should drink something too, but . . . maybe soup counts for both of those things?
In his current state, still far short of optimal, Seto actually isn't sure about that.
He wonders if he'll remember this strange inquiry once he's well enough to look into it.
Pegasus sits down on the same chair he used earlier in the day, and gestures for Mokuba to join him again. Mokuba hops back up on Pegasus's lap, but this time his full attention is on his brother. The young Yagami's big grey-violet eyes are wide and . . . not quite wet, but close to glistening.
Seto hopes he doesn't make his baby brother cry.
Pegasus holds out a hand, and Ellie sets the bowl into it. He dips a finger into the broth, smiles, and says, "Well, that's one net positive. The time we took to change venues has cooled this little number sufficiently, I think."
He flips a spoon out of a pocket—Seto finds this strangely funny, and smiles in spite of himself—and sets the bowl in front of Mokuba. "I think you know what to do, hm?" Pegasus asks.
He holds his spoon in front of Mokuba.
Who proceeds to take it, and—with help from his new guardian—guide a spoonful of broth and vegetables over to Seto. For his part, the elder Yagami attempts to protest, and then . . . doesn't.
Mokie will think he's done something wrong, Seto thinks, and it's the clearest thought he's had all day.
He takes the offering, chews, swallows, and waits for the next.
Before long, Mokuba is giggling quietly.
Seto isn't sure whether the warmth that blooms in his belly is from the soup—which is quite delicious—or from seeing his brother smile at him again.
2.
Over the course of the next two days, Seto regains his old faculties and sheds his sickness like a second skin. He practices his dueling against Yugi. Excepting the matches they sneak in at school, every move—every card, every strategy, every triumph, every mistake—is scrutinized not only by Sugoroku, but Pegasus as well. The men don't talk much as their respective champions play, but instead reflect and ruminate in silence.
They wait until after each match to start talking. At first, it's directly with each boy in turn; but eventually, they just skip that part and start exchanging strategies with each other.
"They should duel," Seto murmurs under his breath at one point.
Yugi smiles at this, then his eyes go wide as he considers the implications of the idea. Then it dawns on Seto what such a match would be like.
They both grin for the next hour.
In the meantime, Mokuba knows that this game is important to his brother, and so he does his best to follow along. But he eventually loses interest because they're playing too quickly for him to keep up. This leads the smallest member of this little troupe to meander over to the games and statues and posters on display around the Turtle.
He likes the pretty artwork.
Natsumi hands Mokuba a feather duster and guides him through cleaning up the front room. He is paid for each shelf he cleans with a brightly-colored polyhedral die; the same kind that everyone used in Pegasus's roleplaying game from Halloween. So far, Mokuba has a collection of eleven; all different shapes and colors. He even has a little drawstring bag with a dragon on it—"bay-bee dragon"—to keep them in.
Something returns to Seto Yagami as he plays Magic & Wizards: an old, hardened edge that's been softening over the past few months. When he sits at a table, and sets his cards at his right hand like a finely-tuned firearm, Seto's face goes blank and his eyes start blazing.
This game is his escape, a coping mechanism from a time when he had no other.
He still treats it with an old desperation.
Seto seems to think that if he treats the game any less seriously than he used to, back when this game was his only source of comfort, the cards will be offended. Oddly enough, instead of being intimidated or put off by this, Yugi seems not only to understand, but to embrace the notion just as fervently.
A transformation undergoes both boys when they sit down to do battle, and before long they're practically shouting at each other.
While Natsumi often puts on an exasperated expression as these two friends point at each other and slam cards down on the table with all the ferocity of ancient gladiators, and Mokuba typically freezes in place like a deer in headlights because Nii'tama only shouts when scary things are happening, both Sugoroku and Pegasus are delighted at this display of infectious energy.
They encourage it.
They embody it.
The day before the tournament is scheduled, Ellie makes an appearance just before closing. There aren't any customers. In fact, aside from the three children, there are only two other people in the building, as far as Ellie can see: two men are in a back corner, playing a board game.
Though no one could have guessed how empty the shop was, based on the noise.
Seto is focused on, not to mention energized by, the fact that he's finally managed to summon his Blue-Eyes White Dragon in two turns; and he's so invested in seeing whether or not Yugi can come up with something to counter it that he wouldn't notice if there was a fifty-six car pileup outside the shop.
Mokuba sees her, though, and tries to tell his brother. Unfortunately, he hasn't quite figured out the notion that he should use a person's full name to call out to them, since the word he uses for Ellie is apparently "Yah!"
When Nii'tama doesn't react with the proper amount of delight at the prospect of Yah coming to visit—he's too busy explaining what Pot of Greed does—Mokuba decides to play the host himself. He makes his slow, waddling way over to her and points back over his shoulder. "Nii'tama play game," he announces solemnly.
"I see that," Ellie offers, in an equally sober tone. She reaches down and ruffles Mokuba's hair, and takes in the Turtle as though she's a prospective buyer; or a detective. She's wearing her signature leather jacket over a less-than-stylish t-shirt that might have once had a logo on it. Now it just has a smattering of red. From a distance, it almost looks like she's bleeding.
Or else, that's what she's been told; more than once, usually by school officials who insist that the shirt is inappropriate.
Ellie saunters over to the table where the boys are playing, and stands behind Seto's left shoulder in absolute silence. She glances down at Mokuba—who has followed her like a dutiful puppy—holds a finger over her lips, then winks at him.
Mokuba seems to catch on, and covers his mouth. His eyes are twinkling.
Of the two combatants, Yugi notices first. He blinks. Ellie goes through the same ritual with him: finger over lips, wink. Yugi grins toothily, and goes right back to the game.
They finish one match—Yugi wins—and Seto is halfway through the next before he realizes that something is strange. He looks around, asks himself where their self-appointed coaches went, then when that match is over—he wins—and Seto is focused on reshuffling his cards, Yugi finally starts snickering.
Before long, it's an out-and-out laugh, and then Mokuba starts in, and finally Seto looks around. "What . . . ? What's so . . . ?"
Ellie taps Seto's shoulder.
Seto drops his cards with a cry, and looks shakily behind him.
He squeaks.
3.
Seto is still blushing, beet-red, with criminal embarrassment half an hour later, as he helps Natsumi set the table for dinner and Sugoroku listens with all the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old while Yugi goes over a play-by-play of his and Seto's latest skirmishes. Ellie is bereft of her jacket and looks supremely awkward in her own right. She hadn't expected an invitation into the Mutous' apartment to join them for their evening meal, much less Natsumi's apparent inability to comprehend language when Ellie initially refused.
"I think somebody's upset," she eventually confides in Mokuba, who's holding his silverware in a vice grip and doing a little wiggling dance in his chair.
"Nii'tama scared," Mokuba replies. "Nii'tama cry." Then he lets out a little sound and fumbles with his fork and butter knife. He starts laughing. Seto shoots his brother a withering glare, but Mokuba stares right back. "Tried tell you."
Ellie shrugs. "He did. I heard him."
"Hmph" is Seto's response.
Mokuba makes a face at Seto; Seto sticks his tongue out at Mokuba. Mokuba giggles; Seto smiles.
Ellie rolls her eyes.
There's an order to the proceedings when it comes to meals at the Mutou household, to which Ellie McAllister is not privy. Each dish goes around the table in a circle. Natsumi informs Ellie that every guest in her home is allowed to name one food item that they may skip over with impunity.
Ellie picks the pork and beans.
For the most part, the entire clan eats in silence. Every once in a while, Natsumi will ask Ellie a question. Ellie will only offer as many words as she has to in order to not be rude.
She, like Seto, has to be convinced before she'll warm up to a given adult.
Ellie's shield is thicker, though.
"What do you think, boys?" Sugoroku asks of Yugi and Seto, as things are wrapping up and Natsumi is handing out bowls for ice cream. "Are you ready?"
"I think so," Yugi says absently; he's already descending into his Rocky Road like a natural disaster.
"I have no idea," Seto says, in the precise opposite tone: he's nervous, like he's at a job interview, and he's licking at his lips and tapping his fingertips against his thumbs. He'll steal a glance at Ellie, or Yugi, or his brother, every so often.
He seems bound and determined to not make eye contact with the proprietor of the Turtle Game Shop, who just so happens to be the judge for the upcoming tournament.
"Think I'm gonna have to swing by for this," Ellie says after an awkward silence. "Looks like you two were gettin' heavy into it when I showed up today." Seto eeps, and Yugi chuckles nervously as he rubs at the back of his own neck.
"It's important to be energetic about your passions!" Sugoroku declares. He lifts up a hand and clenches it into a dramatic fist. "No matter what it is." He points at Ellie. "You just watch. This game is going to sweep pop culture off its feet." He taps his own nose. "I've a sense for these things."
Ellie nods agreeably. "I'll bet."
"Where's . . . Mister Crawford?" Seto interjects suddenly.
Sugoroku blinks. "Ah. He said he had something to take care of. I'll be taking you all home tonight."
Seto tries mightily not to look as crestfallen as he is. "Oh."
The old man leans over, and gently pokes Seto's arm with an elbow. "You want the God's honest? I think he's planning on doing something special for this event. Imagine it! The first official tournament staged here in Domino City, and the game's creator is in attendance! It'll be historic!"
Seto swallows visibly. ". . . R-Right."
"Stop scaring the poor boy," Natsumi admonishes, offering a bowl of French Vanilla to placate her father-in-law. "He's under enough pressure as it is. What would you like, honey?"
Sugoroku visibly deflates, but he's quickly all smiles again.
Seto blinks, realizing that honey means him. "Oh. Uh . . . um . . . Vanilla. I guess. With . . . with sprinkles?"
"Ditto for me, 'f ya wouldn't mind," Ellie puts in, holding up a hand like she's in class.
Natsumi beams at the both of them.
"Coming right up."