This has been a long time coming, and I'm not entirely sure what insidious sorcery has kept my imagination from working with me on this one. Probably the duels. It's hard to write a complete retelling of Yu-Gi-Oh! while completely avoiding the duels, but that doesn't stop my brain from trying.

I'm still new to the game, see. It's been years since I last tried to play.

Over a decade, I think.

This all said, though, there's no duel here. Just the lead-up to one. Still, there's some important stuff that gets laid out here, I think, and so I hope it will stand up on its own.

Shall we?

1.

Seto is already blushing.

He's been running through reasons why the whole thing is a ridiculous idea every spare moment, and so far he has a list of forty-seven bullet points. He's counted them several times already. If he had the time, he would probably write them all out and present them to Yugi like a book report.

Actually, if he had the time, Seto would write the book.

If he only had a notepad, he would probably start right now.

Anything to delay the inevitable.

This is dumb. It's embarrassing. He can't believe he agreed to do it.

Did he think that he and Yugi wouldn't make it to the last round? That this wouldn't happen? But then, Seto reminds himself rather fervently that this is what he's wanted all along. He wanted to face Yugi in the last match of the tournament. He's spent the days leading up to this daydreaming about facing his friend in an official arena for the first time, for a title. For a prize.

For honor.

He's thought that, if he can just win this tournament, then maybe he can say he's earned everything that's happened to him. If he can just prove that Sugoroku Mutou's faith in him as a student is justified, that Pegasus Crawford's faith in him as a—

son

—protégé is justified, then he can be happy about all of this. No strings attached. No second-guessing. No guilt. He can just be happy.

For once.

And the absolute best way to do this would be to face Yugi in the final round.

So why . . . ?

Yugi's grin shows off all of his teeth. "You ready?" His voice is vibrating with excitement. "Here we are! Round Five! You . . . you remember what you said, right?" He suddenly looks apprehensive. "You said you'd do it. You're gonna do it, right?"

Seto grimaces. "I . . . I'll do it. I said I would. I will. But . . . Yugi, are you sure about. . . ?"

"You heard what Grandpa said! This tournament is historic!" He starts on a perfect mimicry of his grandfather's raspy voice: "'Our little city is at the precipice of gaming history! And you knights are in the presence of a king!'" Seto actually giggles a little. Yugi elbows Seto in the ribs. "You know who the king is, right?" Seto blinks. "The king's your new dad."

Seto's mouth suddenly goes dry. His lips quiver.

Yugi throws a conspiratorial arm around his friend's shoulders. "So come on, Prince Seto! Let's make it special our own selves!"

Seto stutters, trying vainly to find words.

He starts to remember what he's been worrying about. "B-But . . . I mean . . . look at all these people. They aren't going to . . . get it. Are they?"

"They're duelists! Just like us! They'll get it!"

Seto groans, runs a hand over his face. "You're . . . really optimistic, huh?"

"Yep!"

Seto isn't sure why any of this surprises him. It surely shouldn't. He draws in a deep breath, then another. He straightens his collar, rolls his shoulders, and prepares to make an absolute fool out of himself. After all, he thinks, only half-joking, there's always a chance a city bus will come barreling through the wall to run me over.

2.

Seto feels like a secret agent as the man with the wide hat and the long coat covertly gestures for him to step outside the shop. The feeling is enhanced when he steps out and sees Croquet standing there, holding an inconspicuous bundle in his hands as he waits for a signal from his master.

Your mission, Seto thinks idly, should you choose to accept it—

His daydream is cut short as Pegasus rips his hat off and whirls to face Seto like he's just found the secret to eternal youth. The man's eye is sparkling, his grin is infectious, and there's laughter hidden behind every move he makes.

"Spectacular work in there! Fantastic! The gods themselves couldn't mold a better first performance!" Pegasus howls with laughter, and Seto feels himself blushing again for a whole different sequence of reasons.

"You've improved quite remarkably," Croquet offers, and Seto is doubly surprised at how much this surprises him. He supposes he's been thinking of his new guardian's sunglassed, mustachioed companion as a . . . a business associate. Nothing more. Sometimes, Croquet even seems like a babysitter. There to keep Master Crawford on whatever leash he can manage.

That he's been watching Seto's duels closely enough to notice improvement isn't something Seto would have anticipated.

He smiles. "T-Thank you."

"I knew it. I knew it!" Pegasus is dancing around. "A truer warden for the Blue-Eyes White Dragon, there never has been!" He throws his head back and laughs at the sky.

"I'm just . . . I'm trying to . . . well . . ." Seto trails off, sure that Pegasus can't hear him over the sound of his own reverie. The boy rubs his hands on his pants; he's sweating, and he isn't sure why.

Then Pegasus suddenly cuts himself off. He looks down, Seto looks up, and he raises that one visible eyebrow. "Hm? Trying to do what, my boy?"

Seto fidgets. "I'm . . . trying to . . . live up to your . . . expectations?"

The look that crosses Pegasus's face is confusing. Then he kneels down and puts his hands on Seto's shoulders. "Now, now. Let's get one thing straight and orderly, here. This is your day. You hear me? You made it to the final round of your very first tournament. You're the youngest duelist out of thirty-two in there, and you've shown everyone what you're made of. This isn't about me. At all. You just remember that. This is yours."

"But . . . you said . . . before, when we first . . . met. You said you were watching me. You said I . . . had the makings of a tournament duelist. So I just . . ."

Why is he so nervous all of a sudden? He's been drifting on clouds all day. Why is talking to the man who made it all possible—no matter what he says about it—suddenly so arduous? None of his opponents have made him feel this way.

Pegasus ruffles Seto's hair. It's a strangely solemn gesture. "That was meant to be a motivating compliment, and nothing else. It was never my intention to play gatekeeper with your future. I'm sorry to have placed such a burden on you." He stands up again. "Ah. I know. I have something I want to show our two finalists. Could you do me the honor of gathering Yugi? Croquet, I trust everything is in order."

Croquet lifts the bundle he's been holding. "Of course, sir."

"Excellent."

Seto turns back toward the shop, a bit lighter on his feet than when he left.

3.

Croquet sets the bundle down on the hood of Pegasus's car, and unwraps it so that Yugi and Seto can see. It turns out to be three booster boxes, just like the ones Sugoroku has strategically placed throughout the shop. He rearranged them this morning, in fact.

The only difference is, these boxes have the name Pharaoh's Servant emblazoned across their tops.

"Now, as I'm sure you both know," Pegasus says, "these aren't scheduled for release until next year. But! What's the fun in waiting?" He chuckles. "These will be handed out to everyone who's won booster packs today. There's enough here for everyone to have two servants for each one they've already won." He winks, as though he's made a joke.

Seto frowns. "So, since Yugi and I have won five . . . we'll get ten more?"

"Correct!"

Seto's breath catches in his throat.

The thought is tempting. Intoxicating, even.

But the frown remains on his face.

"What's the catch?"

Pegasus smirks devilishly. "Whosoever wins this tournament will have upon his shoulders the . . . responsibility, let's say, of one more battle. For this treasure trove, one of you will have to face me."

Seto and Yugi look at each other.

The grin spreading across Yugi's face is as blissful as anything Seto has ever seen, and Seto himself can't deny that his blood is practically singing at the chance to finally settle the score that's been on his shoulders since the day he met this man. The nervousness that plagued him is gone. Incinerated.

There is only the thrill.

For a moment.

Then Seto frowns again. He thinks of Graham, and everyone else who lost in the first round. And the second. ". . . More than half the people in there," he gestures toward the shop, "didn't win any booster packs." He quirks an eyebrow at Yugi. "It won't be very exciting for them."

"Prob'ly be boring," Yugi says, nodding. "They won't have any investment. Right?"

Seto nods back. "Exactly." He turns back to Pegasus. "How about this instead? We'll duel you. But then everybody gets three packs from those boxes there. Whether they won anything or not."

Yugi is grinning again. Seto is not.

Pegasus, for his part, looks stunned.

"That . . . is an excellent idea. Very well, boys. Bargain struck! If one of you younglings should meet me in the field of battle, then each of your compatriots will go home with a prize. Three prizes." He holds up a finger. "But don't mistake yourself. This won't be easy. I hope you're prepared."

Yugi laughs. "I was born prepared!"

Seto nods, eyes glittering, and doesn't say anything else.

4.

An expectant, awestruck hush settles over the crowd of duelists like a soft wave on a midnight beach. For a moment, just a flash, Seto doesn't understand why everyone looks so surprised, and it's this reaction that really hammers home the fact that his life has taken entirely too many weird turns lately.

Some part of him has honestly forgotten that seeing Pegasus Crawford in person is a big deal.

One of the youngest millionaires to ever visit Domino City. Entrepreneur. Genius game designer. Prodigy. So many different labels that Seto has seen plastered all over magazines and tabloids and other things, on the rare occasions that he's picked to join Kristine on a trip to the grocery store. Seto recalls rather distantly that he's applied many of those labels to Pegasus himself during various states of reverie.

I wonder if I can be like him when I'm older, he's thought before. I wonder if I can create something this special. This revolutionary. This wonderful. I hope so.

Seto remembers how overwhelmed he'd felt the first time he met this man. This man, throwing off his heavy coat and flourishing his wide-brimmed hat like he's the opening act for a stage magician. This man, stepping up onto a chair and towering over everyone in the room.

Now, a mere smattering of months later, he's just . . . Pegasus.

The man with the odd name and the silver hair who saw two boys in a throwaway orphanage and decided they were human beings.

Seto doesn't know why his heart seems to beat mercilessly against his ribcage whenever he talks to Pegasus, but it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that he's a celebrity.

"If I may have your attention, duelists?" The man's voice is unchecked power. Seto hisses in an expectant breath. His back goes stiff. "I do hope I may be forgiven for crashing the party, but I couldn't resist such a momentous event." Pegasus bows with a flourish. "If I might introduce myself. My name is Pegasus Jareth Crawford," as if anyone in this room doesn't know who he is, "the creator of this wonderful game."

He grins, then quirks an eyebrow. "Am I not supposed to say that? It isn't very gentlemanly of me, is it? So arrogant." A brief touch of laughter and hesitant applause. The mirth comes back. "Oh, well. Perhaps I may be forgiven. I am here this glorious Autumn afternoon to make an announcement. A challenge, if you like. If our final two skirmishers could step forward, please?"

And so it begins.

Pegasus goes over the bargain they've hashed out, and everyone cheers. As the two final duelists prepare to sit down and fight for the right to face the king, Seto realizes that Natsumi Mutou has come down from the main apartment to watch. Ellie and Mokuba have moved from their table to stand with the others.

Seto happens to look toward the front entrance, and his gaze snags on Daniel Elliot, leaning against the wall. Their eyes meet, and the director tosses a thumbs-up.

Seto smiles for a flash of a moment, strangely touched, and then he's suddenly mortified.

He looks back at Yugi and remembers.

Oh, crap.

5.

"Here for the big event, are you?" Pegasus asks, as he sidles up to Dan and turns to watch as the boys shuffle their cards.

"Seto mentioned the last round was at 2. I'll admit, I banked on him getting there. Prob'ly should have shown up earlier, just in case." Dan chuckles quietly to himself. "Still. Looks like he did just fine."

"He certainly did."

Yugi has switched out the sleeves he uses to protect his cards from various forms of damage. Every time he's dueled before that Pegasus can recall, they've had an orange fire design. Yugi has opted for a new set today—or is this a specific ritual for his match with Seto?—with a purple star-scape. Is this noteworthy? Pegasus wonders.

He recalls that he doesn't have to wonder, but realizes with a jolt that the idea of sifting through Yugi's memories to find the answer to this conundrum . . . just doesn't feel like an option. Guilt stabs into Pegasus like a hot knife at the flagrant hypocrisy of this sudden unease, but he forces these thoughts away.

No.

Not now.

This is a huge moment for Seto and Yugi both. Nothing but tumultuous excitement will do. Pegasus puts on a smile like most men put on a tie. Even if it strangles him, there are some days when it simply must be worn.

But he barely has that smile fixed on his face when it falters again.

Something is wrong.

Seto has several nervous tics that Pegasus has observed over the months. The most obvious is that his eyes never stay in one place. Through most of the afternoon, he's had a look of thunderous concentration on his face. He's been as stolid as a soldier.

Not so, now.

Pegasus is just getting ready to step over to the table and ask the poor boy what's bothering him when Yugi clears his throat—signaling for silence—and begins to speak.

He says, apocalyptically: "They hold magic in their hands."

Seto screws up his face, eyes his friend, and takes in a steadying breath, before adding: "These warriors from afar."

Dan quirks an eyebrow at Pegasus.

Pegasus shrugs.

It's Yugi's turn to speak again, as he says: "They cross these lands."

"Past seas and sands."

"Wherever the monstrous things are."

The entire shop is dead quiet. All eyes are on these two, tiny combatants. Aside from little Mokuba, they are by far the youngest in attendance. They have earned a reputation today. Their thirty compatriots have all silently agreed to offer up their undivided attention.

Now, it's Seto's turn to begin. Voice gaining in volume and some species of confidence, he recites: "Wizard, is the mantle they wear."

"With spells, they summon their fuel," Yugi replies.

"Whether here."

"Or else there."

"In whatever affair."

"There's only one option."

The boys stand up, grinning as they slam their cards onto the table.

As one, they finish weaving their magic:

"DUEL!"

.

There's a bit of poetry that precedes each duel in the opening season of the franchise's latest spin-off, ARC-V, and that's what inspired this bit of social theater. Yugi and Seto are young, here. Their imaginations are in hyper-drive, and their inhibitions — well, Yugi's — haven't quite caught up.

I wanted to show their excitement for the game they're playing, as well as a simple fact that often gets overlooked in discussions of the canon storylines:

They're dorks.

Yugi Mutou and Seto Kaiba (Yagami) are freaking dorks.

Far from sweeping that under the rug, I intend to celebrate it. Especially since, in this timeline, they're not even out of grade school.