Disclaimer: lawdy lawdy I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written.

"I guess there's not much to say, is there?"

"No," I sigh into the receiver, "not really."

The conversation lulls, but Carly revives it by asking, "So you talked to Ushio, huh? I'm guessing you told him about...you know. How did that go?"

"He wasn't surprised, per say. I mean, it's not like he was expecting it or anything, but apparently he knows about Ruka, so I guess that helped cushion the blow."

"Yeah, probably."

"Is it busy down there at the office?" I twirl the cord around my finger. "'Cause it sounds like it."

"It always sounds this way," she says with a soft laugh. "But there are lots of us looking into the murders, if that's what you're asking."

"You are too, right?"

"Er...well...uh..."

"Carly, it's fine." I shake my head and smile. "I didn't really think you wouldn't look into this just because I asked you to. I can't blame you. Once you get past the initial ghastliness of murder, the details are pretty intriguing. I bet you have, what, ten tabs open about it?"

"No! I have seven—eight tabs now, thank you very much. But I'm relieved you're okay with it."

"I can't stop you from doing your job." I glance out the glass wall of the phonebooth and watch the light catch on the pane of the small newspaper stand outside it. Right on the front cover in bold, sharp lettering it reads, Security Still Baffled on Alley Murders. "Besides, it's pretty hard to ignore when it's everywhere."

"I hear you. I think every newspaper in the city has at least one story printed on it already."

"Were you in charge of one?"

"No, of course I wasn't," she says, and I crease my brow at the derisive tone, "because stupid Angela with her fake blonde hair and giant knockers and mini skirts stole it from me and now I'm stuck covering the stupid convenience store robbery on 95th!"

"Oh. That sucks. For you and the store." I pause in the hopes of conjuring a bit of inspiration for her. "Uh, at least you have better sources than she does, right? You know, unless she's pals with another group of Signers and a second Star Child."

"Or unless she's slept with one."

"Ouch. Coming from you, that's pretty harsh. Is she really that bad?"

"I don't exactly approve of her ways of getting her stories, but I could get over it if she didn't makes it incredibly hard to like her—especially when she's been stealing what belongs to me ever since we met in middle school!"

"I get it now," I nod. "It's a childhood grudge."

"One that I'll hold to the day I die. Or she dies. But knowing her, she'll probably resurrect herself from the dead just to steal yet another story away from me!"

"Carly! Quiet down over there!" someone on her end shouts. "I've got a source on the line!"

"Sorry, Jude!" She whispers in to the receiver. "Sorry about that."

"It's alri..." I squint harder in to the streets of outer New Domino. A pinch of fluorescent green had caught my attention, but is now hidden in the afternoon rush of bodies. "I think I have to go, Carly."

"Keep in touch?"

"Course I will."

I clamp the phone on to its holder and exit the booth, hesitating at the newsstand but figure that what it has to say isn't worth the time and go on my way. I continue looking for the twin I thought I saw as I move down the sidewalk.

"Maybe I was mistaken," I mutter.

If it was one of the twins I saw, why would they be headed in the direction opposite of The Tops downtown?

Warily, I go on, now bordering the linings of a park. Looking this way then that, I spy the trademark hue of what could only be one of the twin's heads down by the mini bridge.

"Rua?" He gives no response until I lay a hand on his shoulder, then he lets out a minute shriek that makes me jump back as much as he does. "It's just me! Maria!"

I glance over my shoulders to make sure we haven't made a scene but most people seem too mystified by the spell of good weather to take notice.

"Oh, hey," he replies, trying his best to keep cool. "What are you doing here?"

I pop a squat down in the grass beside him and, together, we watch at the rippling circles of the pond. "I just got off work and saw you pass by, but obviously not the other way around."

"Yeah, sorry."

I take my eyes away from a mama duck and her tail of ducklings. I'd never seen Rua look so solemn; I didn't think his facial structure could align itself to form such an expression, honestly. Not even when Yusei was kidnapped, not even after I woke up from the forest.

He had to have heard by now—about the murders. Even someone as one-track-minded as Rua must have stopped to listen to the advised caution on the television, seen a title of an article out of his peripheral.

I could tell him not to worry, but that would do more harm than good. The worry is what will keep him alert and alive.

"Rua. Where's your sister?"

"At the guys' apartment." I expect a "why?" to follow the end of that sentence, but only a glum pout of the lips comes out in turn.

It isn't just about the alley murders, then? That's the bulk of it, maybe, but there is a layer underneath that. A discordance prickling between the siblings. In the couple months that I've known them, I have never seen the twins fight, not seriously. Not in a way that it would have such an effect on either of their attitudes.

"We don't have to talk about it, whatever is going on with you two."

He's silent, staring at the pond. Suddenly, he rises and stomps to the edge, grabbing a pebble and chucking it into the middle. My eyebrows raise at him, and he turns back to me with slumped shoulders.

"I thought it would do the skippy thing." He glances back at the watery break in the land, looking dejected even from his profile, and back to me. "Do you know how?"

I shrug. "Beats me." I drag my myself up and come next to him, bending down to snatch a pebble for myself. "But if it's anything like in the movies, I think you're supposed toss it like a mini, rock frisbee."

The pebble plops in to the water without a single hop.

I shake my head. "I had high hopes for that pebble. And it just let me down."

"It was a good try," Rua consoles with a laugh.

"It was, wasn't it?" I pick up another and hand it to him. "You give it a go now."

He does and the pebble skips twice, leaving delicate waves in its wake.

"That is so not fair!"

"I don't know what I did! It just happened!"

"Do it again!"

Both of us keep at it for some time. Turns out Rua's been a pebble skipping champion this entire time and didn't even realize it. He teaches me the ways of the mysterious wrist flick and, although I don't manage to perfect it, I'm satisfied enough to get a pebble to skip two times in a row.

"You said we don't have to talk about it..." I pause from dusting my hands off onto my jeans. "That means we can too, right?"

"You already know the answer to that."

We sit again. "I lost my duel today."

"To that boy, Lu-something? The one Ruka likes?"

"Yeah, him," he says, as if the mere thought of the duelist put a foul taste in his mouth.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I know you were really excited for it."

"I had a plan and everything! I'd use my best cards, kick his butt with no mercy, and rub it in his face until the end of time! But I lost! To him!"

"Rua, one loss doesn't make you a terrible duelist. It just means you should learn from the mistakes you made the last time and challenge him again."

"What if I lose? Everyone will laugh at me again and tell me I'm doing it wrong and—"

"And? So what. You're trying your best and some people can't even do that. Isn't that like what Yusei tells you after a duel?"

"After he beats me to a pulp," he mumbles.

I roll my eyes and continue, "He tells you that you're getting better and what you need to work on, right? And you always listen, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"So just think of it like that. Pick out the things you did well, and the things you could have done differently."

"And duel Lucciano again afterward?"

"And kick his butt," I laugh, then swing a finger at the boy. "No rubbing it in, though. It's one thing to be a sore loser, but a whole other to be a sore winner. No one will want to duel you then."

"I guess you're right," Rua agrees, standing on his feet.

"I know I am." I ruffle his hair and a tint of pink comes to his cheeks. "And if it makes you feel any better, don't you always win when we duel?"

"That's not the same. You lose on purpose."

"What!" I shout, completely stunned that he actually figured it out. "I do not!"

"So then you're really just that bad?" I avert my eyes, strain my lips from leaking both the truth and a lie. "I knew it!"

"You do put me in a pinch...sometimes."

"Well, if I'm not allowed to be a sore loser then you have promise to play honestly."

"Fair enough." We lock pinkies and give it a good shake. "Now that that's settled, we should get a move on. I want to get you home before it gets dark."

Nearing the pass onto the city streets, Rua calls, "Uh, Maria?"

"Hmm?"

"You've got something gross on your butt."

I whip my head around. "Like what—are you kidding me!"

"What is it? It looks nasty." He steps backward a bit.

"It's duck poop!" I groan, slapping both palms to my forehead. "Unbelievable. Actually, no. Of course this would happen to me. Of fricking course."

I pull off my jacket, face the outer part of it to my butt, and cinch it to my waist.

"You're not really going to go all the way to The Tops with duck poop pants, are you?" He snickers behind me.

"When there's a will, there's a way, Rua!"

—

Rua descends the stairs into the garage with a renewed vitality. Me, well, not so much. However pointless it may be, the crap on my pants had me in a phase of caution, as well as the picture of utter mortification.

"Rua?" Yusei pushes back the goggles into the wild spikes of his hair. "Maria? What are you guys doing here?"

Of course you're here. Why wouldn't you be here to witness the moment that is the icing on the cake of embarrassment that is my life? I glance at Jack seated on the D-Wheel prototype; he quirks a brow in question. The more, the merrier.

Rua scans the room and asks, "Where'd Ruka go?"

"She went home a little while ago."

"Oh. I guess I'll catch her at home then." Rua's settled with that and stares me down with the goofiest smile on his face, which is hard to hate since it's such a vast improvement from his previous countenance. "Your turn."

"Okay. This is going to be so weird and I'm apologizing in advance because it's such an odd thing to ask and when I say odd I mean a different kind of odd than my normal kind of odd and I just want you both to remember that I am not a creep and this is in no means a creepy gesture—"

"Get to the point," orders Jack.

"She's got poop pants," Rua giggles.

"NO! I don't! Stop saying it like that!" I shout at him, then turn to the pair of older roommates. "It's not how it sounds. Please don't look at me like that, I did not poop myself. We were in the park and I just happened to sit in some of the duck variety, so it would be really awesome if you could just give me your pants!"

I'm breathing deep breaths afterward. So, for whatever reason, I can't run a lap to save my life but I can talk a mile a minute? Really makes sense.

Yusei and Jack share a look and even matching smirks of amusement. "Is this a stick up?" comments the taller of the two.

I reply with clenched teeth, "I hate you so much right now."

"Whoa there. You want pants or not?"

"Pants, please," I say meekly.

"Alright then. And calm down before you malfunction."

"A little late for that."

My face is aflame with heat while we wait for Jack to return. Rua keeps Yusei occupied with possible strategies and card recommendations as I stand aside, fiddling with some random string or detail in my attire. Anything to distract me from the shit on my ass. Anything.

"Here." Jack shoves the spare jeans in my face. I would go through the trouble of thanking him, but he already seems to be onto more important matters: the D-Wheel engine.

Yusei asks, "You know where the bathroom is, right?"

I nod and get a move on up the stairs. I try to go about the whole scenario in the most graceful of ways; first the jacket is laid on the toilet seat (soiled part up), my own pants up next. I immediately tug on the random pair of pants, feeling strange and vulnerable in the boys' home without them.

I'd bother to explain why, but who wouldn't feel the same?

I collect my things by the edges, barely keeping hold with two fingers each. I come back into the garage in minor alarm.

"W-what do I do now?"

Rua's the only one who turns away from the engine action. "Clean it, maybe?"

I eye the clothing, consider the work that would go into it. Exactly how much do I value these?

The answer is: not enough.

I open a cabinet with one hand, holding the ruined wear in the other, and comb through the insides for the whereabouts of a garbage bag or other.

"Aha!"

After the plastic discovery, I stuff the garments inside with numerous squeals of disgust and tie it shut. I squish the bag down into the trash and hurry to the sink, scrubbing all the way up to my wrists in soapy suds.

"Poop pants, no more?" Rua asks, gaze hovering over the trash can.

With fists on my hips, I affirm, "Poop pants, no more. Speaking of which," I direct my words towards the older duelists, "whose pants are these? They fit me better than the one's I just had on."

I didn't think they'd heard me over all the revving and technical talk, however Jack (with a sinister, wily smirk on his lips) turns and replies, "They're Crow's."

It was a giveaway sign that there would be some major hell-raising in these parts whenever our poor brother returned home. I wasn't about to stick around for it, offering instead a stifled, "Don't go too hard on him, whatever it is you do."

As per usual, Jack ignores it. I digress. That'd be as far as our encounter would reach for today and we both accept it with little resistance. Better this than nipping at each other's tails.

"Aren't you going to need that jacket?" Rua ponders.

"It was just some random thing I picked up at a thrift store somewhere," I explain. "Had no sentimental value whatsoever. And with it getting so warm out, I doubt I'll need it as much." I wouldn't be able to look at it the same way, anyhow.

"Oh. Okay."

"We should probably get going, though," I say a bit louder than necessary, just to see if I can catch the guys' attention. I roll my eyes when it has no avail.

"Can we stay just a bit longer?"

Before I can voice the concern, growing more and more like a welt on my skull, Yusei says it first. "It'll be dark before you know it. It's best if you get going now." He glances up at me. "The both of you."

If this was his attempt at being subtle, it was pretty scrappy. There would undoubtedly be a scheduled regrouping (minus the twins) sometime down the line, but implication would be the route to head in for now. I dread this future conversation even more so than anything we've ever had to discuss, but of all those things, this has to be the most dire. This wasn't about me anymore, nor was it the Signers. Not once ordinary, innocent people got involved.

It still seemed so...imaginary. Every aspect of this 'chosen one' business. Yet every passing day has helped dilute that feeling. Shit was beginning to get real and, if none of us believed it before, maybe some spirit-induced organ failure would help knock it into us.

"But what if something happens with the engine and I'm not here to see it?"

"At the rate we've been going, the only thing you'll be missing are a few minor explosions. But, if there's a chance we make any progress, we'll call you first thing tomorrow." Yusei noogies him lightly. "In the meantime, just worry about fixing up that defense of yours, okay?"

"Gotcha!" They bump fists, then Rua scurries away like a leaf riding the wind. "C'mon, Maria!"

"Alright, alright. Jeez."

A hand latches to my shoulder at the last second. I twist back toward Yusei, noticing that familiar look of caginess as it gleams in his eyes. Another subtle word would soon be on it's way.

"Be careful."

I try to ignore the slight squeeze he puts in the hold. "We will be. I'll protect him if..." I let what's already been told go unsaid.

"And you?"

I pull away, possibly a smidgen too forced. "I'll worry about that when I get there."

"Don't just stand there! Help her!" Zora commands.

The sibling cooks jump to Nayla's aid instantly, Asura extending his arm to her and Mako hauling the bulky wheelchair up the front steps. Chiyo and I stand by with the door open as Nayla is wheeled through, her wrinkled hand ghosting over one of mine as she passes.

She was like a car crash. Up close I could hardly stare her in the face, but once she was settled by a space near a tall window, I focus on her shrunken form, which was partially put to blame on the chair. The other part, however, was all her—what was left of what she'd been. When Nayla and I first met, just her presence alone held its own kind of ferocity that could easily chew you up and spit you out. Now it was like that ferocity had turned on her, and bit away at something so great, it only left crumbs of herself behind.

I wring the cloth in my hands, in wait of a suitable time to go over and chat with her. But when would that be, if it ever comes?

So I take my chance once Zora disappears.

"Nayla?"

I put a hand on one of the wheelchair's handles. I couldn't take the risk of touching her; she might collapse into nothing. Her head swivels slowly toward my voice. Her glass eyes don't register me immediately, but a delighted smile comes soon enough for me to look past that.

"Maria, dear, come. Sit, please."

I pull a chair right in front of her. I don't want to mention anything too discomforting, anything that'd seem too brash to be the start of a conversation. "Seems you lost the battle, huh?"

Nayla's confused, yet catches on when she follows my gaze to the chair. "You mean this," she laughs. "Oh yes, I did. But nothing to whine about, I always win the war."

"That's good to hear," I respond, then offhandedly, "I wish I had that kind of optimism."

"Well," her head tilts to the side, "why don't you?"

"Why don't I." What a jolly-good question.

"Is something going on? Something that necessitates you to stock up on positivity?"

I nod. "Quite a lot, yeah."

"Whatever it is, you'll make it through. You never realize how strong you are until you get past it."

That's because the worst is yet to come. "There's that optimism again." I lower my head.

"Confidence, dear. Confidence."

"I know of no such thing."

She presses a hand atop mine, folds it over. I still don't look up. "You don't have to know anything. Fake it, and sooner or later you'll believe it—that's all you really need. Faith."

"Trust and pixie dust, too?" I smile at last.

"Always helps to be prepared." Nayla sets back while shaking her head, a perceptive roll of her eyes. "Tell Tinker Bell I say hi, whenever you get the chance."

Looking out the window sobers me up from the joke, wipes my lips clean. Softly, contritely, "I'm sorry I haven't come to visit you."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Well...yeah, but—"

"But nothin'!" She turns to the window, as if what follows is too hearty for her and the only thing that will hold her up is what's outside our conversation. "You're still here, I'm still here—come when you want, when you can."

For some reason it feels like it should be harder than this. I almost wish she wasn't so accepting, that she would retract the offer because I'd missed the deadline. But it was still open. As Nayla had said, we were both still here. The words knell in my brain, bouncing back and forth all my other thoughts. I look over her again, this time out of habit. It doesn't seem to bother her.

We're still here.

The longer I watch her—the longer I think, the more I wonder how long those words will stay true for the both of us.

"Here you go." I set the miscellaneous items on the table and wait for the elderly couple to finish off our routine—the man usually sniffs and pokes his salami-and-cheese, the woman 'sneaks' a candied drop into my palm—and leave them be.

I unfurl my hand. It's a caramel, for a change. Seems she's decided to up the ante from those hard watermelon ones. I send the pair a smile over my shoulder.

The bell overhanging the front door jangles to life.

"Delivery! Got a package for a Zora... oh no."

Zora barges through the kitchen doors, the vein in her forehead already pounding at full capacity. "Of all people to send..." she mutters.

"Feeling's mutual," Crow sneers with a glance sideways. His eyes land directly on me. "Maria?"

I wave a hand tepidly. It's tough to feel welcoming when there's a wad of caramel gluing your teeth shut.

"Careful!" Zora screeches at him. "That's fragile, you know!"

Crow tilts his head to read the large, red stamp on the side of the box. "Oh, is that what that means? I guess you learn something new everyday."

What a lovable little smartass.

His landlord yanks the package from his grip and huffs-and-puffs her way back into the kitchen. Crow silently mimics, "Careful. That's fragile," as she does so.

Afterward, he saunters up to me in the same way he always does. I don't think Crow was capable of doing anything without seeming carefree. He could probably put his fist through a wall and act like it wasn't a big deal.

The redhead starts to talk, but I hold up a finger, still sliding my jaw around. "Uh, are you okay?" I hold the finger out on emphasis, almost booping his nose.

"Well, I never," he says dramatically, drawing a hand to his chest.

I roll my eyes. "Hold on. It's doing the spit thing."

"Oh. Yeah. The spit thing." His smoky eyes squint, like if he looked hard enough, he could find the meaning somewhere on my skin. "Gotcha."

"S'just candy." I push him on the shoulder. "I'm not weird, I swear."

"Yeah right, Poop Pants," he snickers.

I push him even harder. "Not so loud! I'd like to keep that personal tidbit from leaking into my workplace, if you don't mind." My best comeback comes a little too late, but I'm lucky to have one at all. "And you're one to talk, Lady Jeans."

"Those are men's jeans, I'll have you know," he whispers. "From the men's section."

I shake my head, the patronizing, teenage attitude-ish type of shake. He's grins, half-chuckling, and backs out the door. "I'll get you next time, just you wait."

"And I'll win the next time, too."

"You didn't even win this time!"

I shoo him out the rest of the way. Our bantering was hands-down my favorite part of our relationship, but this was beginning to cause more of a scene than I could handle. Old people, on average, didn't have it in them to be so rowdy. Plus I could do without the daggers Zora was surely sending into my back. Or through me.

Crow leaves. Then reenters not a minute later, though I've already started spraying down another table.

"Ready for round two already?" I ask without looking at him. The bright orange sprouting in my peripheral was all I needed.

"No, that can wait. But hey..." He pauses. I look up. Crow seemed to be formulating the proper words out on an imaginary chalkboard. This + this + this = an easy sentence. Maybe it does take effort to be so laid-back.

"This is my last stop for the day."

"Okaaaay."

"I haven't eaten yet."

I scoff and resume table-scrubbing. "I am not giving you free food."

"No. No! —I mean, while it would be great if you could sneak me a cupcake or two... You. And me. Lunch."

I straighten myself out, turn my head his way. "Now?" Crow nods. "Here?"

"Nooo. No way am I giving Zora more shots—that she'll definitely take—free of charge."

"Where, then?"

He shrugs. "Does it matter? We'll find a place."

"Uh, alright. Just let me go ask Nayla."

He agrees to wait by the door. Tucking the cleaning supplies under the counter, I start toward her familiar place at the window. She was always staring out it, and I guess that wasn't so odd. Nayla did that before the wheelchair or just sat outside, when possible.

What struck me every time my line of vision crossed her was how still she was while doing so. She didn't ask for anything unless offered, never complained when her order got messed up (slightly burnt or not enough sugar). If I wasn't so sure she was awake, I'd think she was sleeping with her eyes wide open.

"Nayla?" Her eyes glide over everything leading up to me and halt. She stares as if I'm unrecognizable, as if she had woken from a dream. So I repeat, crouching to her level, "Nayla?"

She automatically goes for my hand, which I wrap around hers, and holds it to her lap. "What is it, dear?"

"Is it alright if I go on a quick break? With my friend?"

Nayla's gaze rises toward the door, and returns to me. She leans near my ear and whispers, "Take all the time you need. I understand completely."

I pull away with furrowed brows. "What?"

"I'm not as old as I seem. Just enjoy yourself." Nayla pats my hand before releasing it. "He's one of Martha's boys, right? Tell him I say hello."

"Um. Okay, I-I will."

I glance at her just before rushing out the door. She winks.

We're by Blackbird when Crow takes note of the flushed panic filling in my face.

"All good?" he asks.

"My boss said hi," I reply, watching him pop the seat to get the extra helmet underneath, "and definitely thinks this is a date."

Crow chokes on his own spit, acts as if he's about to defend his intentions, but ultimately decides on a sidelong glance at the line of trees.

"What." My face reddens furthermore, if possible. "This...this isn't..."

"For Christ's sake, no! This isn't a date!"

"Then what was that...that look you just did? What was that about?"

He shoves his head into the helmet. I wonder if it's to hide the burning heat on his cheeks and ears.

"No! It just..." Crow rolls his eyes. "It's the kids."

"What about the kids?"

"It's dumb."

"You still have to tell me."

"...They always sing that song after they see us talk." I move my hand, almost like an attempt to roll the words off his tongue. He goes on, "You know, the one in the tree and the... spelling."

"Are you telling me that because the kids think we K-I-S-S in a tree, you think you have to walk on eggshells around me?"

"Could you not? I specifically avoided spelling it for a reason."

I stare at him, astounded. "You're right. That was dumb."

"I warned you."

"So is that all they do, then? Sing?"

"...Sometimes they make kissy faces." He finally begins laughing. "It really sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"A million times over," I strain myself to say over laughs. "I never took you to be so impressionable."

"In my defense, they have the strength in numbers. They can come at me from all different sides and times."

"Uh-huh. So if this isn't an attempt to seduce me—" Crow voices his opinions on the phrasing, but I ignore them and continue, "—then why were you so worried about me coming along?"

He hops onto the D-Wheel, almost like mounting a horse. "I don't know if you've met yourself, but you're pretty skittish. I didn't want to give you a reason to freak out."

I don't freak out over any little thing, I try to tell myself.

I tug the helmet over my massive hair. Hopefully, helmet hair will work it's magic and make it look less ferocious. "I don't know if you've met yourself, but you obviously don't know the honor that comes with basking in your presence," I say back.

"Now who's the seducer."

I finally rest behind him, shaking my head although knowing he was oblivious to it. The day was already windy and sun deprived, yet the gale crawls and claws at my skin every little inch we hike up the road.

"You do know that if this was a date," I say to keep my mind off my trashed jacket, "this would be incest."

I can feel all of Crow's bones go taut with pressure. He even jerks the bike a bit by accident, not enough to cause a major issue, though it does spook me. After we're righted he doesn't have any follow-ups to smack me down with, so I fill the air with my own triumphant laughter.

If I hadn't won the champion belt before, I've definitely got it now.

—

"This isn't good," Crow sighs.

"Mm-mm." I tug on my slice by the teeth a few more times, then drop it into its carton. "It's like, two percent pizza and ninety-eight percent rubber tire."

"A hundred percent wasted money," he agrees.

"I guess it's our fault for having high expectations." I walk over to the trash and toss the piece of sausage-laden elastic in the bin. "It did come from a convenience store—which, you have to admit, was shadier than the average."

"Wanna know the funny thing?" I turn to him, see him appraise the lunch on each of its sides. Finally, he shrugs and goes for it. Half of the pizza is torn apart with his left molars. As he chomps it down he says, "I've had worse."

"I'm...impressed. Fearful of my life, but very, very impressed."

"You'd be willing to eat it too, if you came from The Satellite."

I don't really grasp I've had worse's translation until he says so outright. I imagined rock-hard grilled cheeses, white rice that was browner than the name intended, or overly-peppered anything. That's how Mom cooked. Always too much. Too much heat, time, spices.

Back in what used to be The Satellite, that might have been a luxury. The grisly parts of meals I always forced myself to swallow would have been a good day's luck for someone in The Satellite.

One girl's trash is another's breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"C'mon now." I hadn't noticed he'd gotten so close. "Don't look like that."

I couldn't look at him; I'd focus only on all the yellow covering his face. So instead, I lay my head on his shoulder.

Crow pets my head, not at all fazed, like he's done this dozens of times. Probably has, for the kids.

"It's okay. It's over. It's in the past," he soothes me.

But we both know it isn't. Maybe that's why I so suddenly feel like crying. And I honestly think I would have, if not for the static waves washing to and fro in my ears. I freeze up and wait for it to get louder, for my surroundings to fade. For the buzzing to become the only thing that surrounds me.

Crow, overlooked until now, had tensed too. He had stop rubbing my back and could only stare at the glowing mark on his forearm.

—

"Who do you think it is?" I shout to Crow.

We slide out the main lane and down a winding one that shoots us onto a road, northbound.

"Ruka," he decides. "I think it's Ruka."

"How do you know?"

"I don't, not really. I guess it's just a leap of faith until we find out."

"I hear that's all you need these days," I say unintentionally.

"Let's hope so," is his reply.

Crow hits the pedal harder, pushing us faster in the open road. Some minutes later a chiming reverberates near. It's the screen in front, a mini telephone ringing on it. When Crow answers the call Yusei's helmeted face springs into view.

"Hey."

"Hey. I'm on my way." Crow adds, "Maria, too."

I wave. "Hi."

I assume that both our helmets are somehow synched to the D-Wheels programing, because when Yusei talks on the screen I can hear his voice right up close to my ear, like he's whispering away all his secrets.

"Good. You'll be able to find us, right?"

I wonder if he means their marks or through some D-Wheeler GPS system. The former sounds cooler, so it's what I stick with.

"Should be. Just find 'em, at least."

"Yeah. Same to you."

The screen reverts back to it's normal state. Not long after, we merge lanes with Akiza, who's just as certain as Crow that whatever the Crimson Dragon was drawing us to involved the youngest of the Signers.

"What could it possibly be?" Akiza asks us. "Ruka's not the type to go looking for trouble."

"Yeah," Crow glances her way, then back to the road ahead. "But Rua is."

"You think he's with her?"

"I hope so. Even if Rua isn't a Signer, they always do better when they're together. They feed off each other's energy."

That was the truth, I know it is, but something inside me keeps fighting against it. That, while the twins were at their best together, it might not be enough. What if whatever this was was inevitable? An unrelenting, infinite power that would rein on any and all options we have to protect ourselves?

We would drown in what we couldn't help, and sink with the guilt of it.

I press my helmet into Crow's back, praying to anything that the twins have the upper hand. That Fate is on their side and they have the chance to do what's necessary to win.

—

We catch up to Yusei, Jack as well, and in turn the twins. Both Rua and Ruka are in the heat of the duel, riding along one another on what seemed to be turbo duel versions of skateboards. I can tell right away which monsters were whose—Rua's are automatic, technological and box-shaped this way and that; Ruka's are flowery, ethereal, and mythical creatures.

The cards that remained unknown were the challenger's. They were strange, that's for sure. Futuristic, high-tech. Like an after picture of Rua's monsters once they hit the gym, and then took steroids.

"Who is that?" I ask everyone. "Do you all know him?"

"No," Crow answers, "but those monsters...!"

Jack talks in the helmet speakers, finishing for his brother. "They're like Ghost's. Almost exactly like them."

"So what does that mean?" says Akiza. "I thought Ghost turned out to be a stolen Ridingroid."

"It was," Yusei comes in. "But there's no mistaking it. That symbol on its chest is the same. And even more so, if his deck is anything like Ghost's, then any damage the twins receive is real."

"Real?" I shout. "Like, real real?"

"Not only that, but Ruka's already summoned Ancient Fairy Dragon!" Jack hollers.

"This is bad, really bad," I hear Crow say under the wind.

Why? Why? I scream in my head. Why is it bad? I want to scream it at all of them, but awe has struck me stiff.

The current rundown of the duel flashes on Crow's screen. The redheaded challenger leads with 3200 LPs, while Rua brings up the rear with 1300 and his sister at an even 2500. They all share 5 Speed Counters, respectively.

The challenger, who looks no older than the siblings themselves, starts his turn by using his blue mondo-bot's effect—to absorb a Synchro on the twins' side once per turn. The infinity symbol on the robots chest glows neon on command.

This signals something in the three older boys, like they know an ending that has yet to begin. Which causes a frenzy in my heart, and that's well met with what conspires next. It's like some live-action horror movie, the Swamp Thing or Dracula right before our eyes. The symbol opens up, a mechanic snake unhinging it's jaw, and whips of green energy entangle Ancient Fairy Dragon four times around. She struggles to no avail and is reeled in, the droid's chest closing up again.

It didn't seem usual and, yes, undeniably bad but...

My mouth finally budges, "What happens now? How do they get her back?"

"That's the problem," Yusei answers, "they might not."

That was the punchline I'd been waiting for. Now it doesn't even matter if the twins win. The mission had changed its course. Get out alive, and get out with Ancient Fairy Dragon.

What would happen to her spirit if she stayed in there? Would it dissolve, too? Dual cards are our way of staying connected to the Spirits and their realm—would Ruka lose that connection?

The twins' opponent plays something that keeps Rua from summoning on this turn and uses the opening to attack directly. An enormous bullet of energy rages his way, quick and hot. He's supposed to take that and keep on dueling? It'll kill him before he could draw again!

Just when my heart drops into the pit of my stomach, Ruka holds it up like a champion torch. She speeds in front of her brother and activates a Trap—Twinkle Wall, I'd seen it before in her deck—to protect him by taking half the pounding herself.

Not the most optimal of outcomes, but it would do, even if it aches to see the snaps of neon energy crash down around her. A smokecloud flares up at once, and Ruka zooms out, wobbling but alive. That's what matters.

But she's on her last legs, barely over 300 LPs now.

Their opponent laughs off the beating, his smile smeared over his mouth like The Joker's red paint. God, it was eerily similar, so much that it's what I dub the stranger. The Kid Joker versus Batgirl and The Boy Wonder.

It helps, actually. Superheroes never lost, and if they did, it wouldn't stay that way for long.

The Kid Joker plants a face-down and ends his turn, starting Rua's. Somewhere along, Rua's able to whip out his ace card, Power Tool Dragon.

"What's he thinking?" Jack comments, worried. "Synchros won't work on him."

It's his only shot. I'd do it, too, if it was all I had.

Next he throws out a spell and regains his chance to Special Summon a monster Level 4 or below, which turns out to be Morphtronic Vacuumen. Because it's in defense mode, Rua can equip it to a monster on Joker's field once per turn.

Crow has an epiphany in the forefront of our seat. "He's going to remove Meklord Emperor Skiel from the field so that he can battle with Power Tool Dragon!"

But Kid Joker plays a Trap, called Convert Ghost, that basically attaches Vacuumen to a monster already in his graveyard.

"He dodged it!" gasps Akiza.

"And it was such a good move," I follow. I hate to say it, but I'm scared he won't have another breakthrough like this one.

So I'm piss-my-pants excited when he opens a Trap at the start of Joker's turn. Power Break sends all equipped and absorbed cards on the field back to the duelists' decks—cards like Ancient Fairy Dragon. And stapled to that is an addendum of 500 points of damage for every card returned, the absolute best cherry Rua's move could be topped with.

"Oh, thank god!" I collapse into Crow, unable to control my body and surging relief simultaneously.

The group's moment of good feeling is short-lived, because Kid Joker seems to crack under the blow of 1000 LPs. Honestly, though, what was up with this kid? He already seems manic as is, but now it was look someone punched a hole through him and started yanking out his circuiting by the handful.

The boy summons another piece for his Meklord through the sacrifice of all his Speed Counters, boosting the machine up to 2400 ATK Points. Again, he swaps the same piece out for Skiel Attack 5. 200 more ATK Points fly into his pocket.

Then he uses an effect to attack Rua directly.

Right then and there, my ribs become twigs. Flimsy and snapped. They cave in on my organs as the blast mushrooms out. Rua's LPs deplete entirely. And the boy himself flings from the course on impact, falling fast for the ground underneath.

"RUA!"

The five of us skid to a stop in the middle of the road.

If my ribs were twigs, then my organs are fresh blossoms. Dried and crisp in the heat of the moment. Crushed to dust by the wicked thought of what a casket that small would look like.

The marks light up everyone else's arms. Meaning that, if hell was already being raised, there'd be a miracle on its way.

We hear it before we see it—the deafening cry of a transcendental being. Crimson Dragon rips through the sky to where we are. This is the first time I've seen it, other than on the odd news report way back when it first appeared in New Domino. It seems like one never-ending, ruby ripple of power. Noticeable outlines of its wings and claws. Eyes round as the moon, blazing like the sun.

Crimson Dragon emits an orb of light from its palm and it coincides with Rua's path of doom. The young duelist continues down, but instead of meeting his demise, the bubble simply pops. Rua slips out, undoubtedly unconscious.

The Crimson Dragon is pleased enough with the outcome to go on its merry way and fades into the atmosphere.

We all lean over the divider, turning from the boy to his sister across the way. She was already crying.

"Ruka, it's okay," Yusei assures her, "Rua's alive!"

"He is?" She wipes her face.

"All thanks to the Crimson Dragon," says Crow.

"We'll take care of him," Jack tells, then jerks his head Kid Joker's way. "You just worry about giving that punk what he deserves."

Ruka nods. Her face is nearly dry, and her eyes still wide, but that wouldn't change until the match ended and she was done riding an adrenaline high. She's about to go on when I call out to her. Usually I have resignations against swearing in front of the kids, but this situation seems fit for pushing those aside.

"Kick his sorry ass."

She gives a firm bob of her head, a smile pushing in the dimples of her cheeks, and revs up her board. We follow alongside Ruka once the turbo duel continues. After the redhead places a face-down to end his turn, Ruka summons Regulus, an armored lion with a horn atop its skull. It's one of her favorite cards.

She plays Ancient Sunshine next, taking Ancient Fairy Dragon from play with Regulus on her side. With that, she deals the boy damage equal to Ancient Fairy Dragon's ATK Points—2100 smackaroos.

But the little bastard won't give. He plays a Trap that negates the attack because of his Meklord and destroys all of Ruka's summoned monsters. The Joker cackles uncontrollably, then begins his turn afterward. Now, with Ruka riding defenseless, the first move he makes is to hit her where it hurts and end it for good.

"RUKA!"

The same moment the beam of energy dives for her, that all too familiar ringing in my skull flares up. Good God, what now? I hope for another miracle, but expect the Earth to break in two.

The rose streak consumes Ruka in its light and sends smoke and stray rays up on impact. I squint hard, hoping to get past the wispy clouds and to her—to Ruka, bloodied and bruised. To Ruka, if alive, then just barely.

The vibrating gets heavier, weighing down my senses and pushing them in Ruka's direction. Something was happening, something...spirit-y. With the clearing tendrils of smoke, I can just make them out. The teeny forms of near-translucent bodies floating amid the air. All of them are duel monsters I recognize from Ruka's deck—Sunny Pixie, Dreamsprite, Bird of Roses. Even our favorite little furball, Kuribon.

"Oh my god," I murmur. Then louder, smacking Crow's shoulder repeatedly, "Oh my god!"

"What? What's going on?" he yells back to me.

"It's the spirits! They're blocking it for her!"

Though the barrier doesn't last, only lessens the blow that still finds its way to Ruka. She flies out soon after, nearly smashing into the glass of the road's safeguard. Fortunately, Regulus is there to push her up and away. Then, when her points drop to 0 on the D-Wheel screen, her board gives off puffs of steam.

Ruka veers into a stop and looks up at the team of spirits.

—

"Lucciano? That's who that was?"

Since Ruka seemed well enough to finish her way off the turbo lane, we made plans to regroup after recovering her brother. Rua was conscious when we found him, but kind of out of it. He has zero recollection of the Crimson Dragon's brief showing. But, hey, I'd take that over him not knowing what planet he was on.

Now, remedied that today's worst is over, we stand under the Daedalus Bridge.

Although covered in bruises of varying shapes and colors, the twins hold up better than I expect. Mentally, anyway. Rua's spirited ways are doused, like he's running on a low battery, and Ruka had collapsed into Akiza's side once she caught up to us. Along with an extra helmet under their seats, the guys carry first aid kits. Nothing close to a travel-size hospital, but they would do. No breaks or sprains, anyhow.

Crow uses his kit to patch up Ruka, and I sit with Rua on Yusei's bike.

Ruka nods, "He was different than how he was at school, like he had another personality. He didn't even feel pain when he got attacked."

"When you said he was a tool I thought you meant he was rude, or obnoxious," I say to her brother, wrapping a deep cut on his arm in gauze. "Not... whatever that was."

How young is too young to be a sadist—one with no nerve-endings?

"How come you get to say tool and I don't?" he mopes quietly.

"I think you can worry about having a potty-mouth some other time. Now, gimme your leg."

I prepare for some line of defense to be shot my way ("It was just a question.", or "If I can't say it, then neither can you."), yet all that comes is his leg hoisted up and onto my thigh to be examined. I pause, but decide to speak nothing of it and simply spray the antiseptic onto his damaged skin.

"Where is he, anyway?" Jack asks.

"Does it really matter?" counters Akiza. "He's gone."

Yusei speaks up, "But it's not gonna stay that way. First Ghost and now this? That's not coincidence, that's a target on our backs."

"We already have Yliaster lurking in our shadows," sighs Crow. "And now there are more shadows in the shadows?"

Don't forget man-eating spirits. They love a good party.

"Do you think they're connected?" Ruka questions. "I mean, it all seem too sudden, too..."

"Clean," I finish. "I agree. I mean, I know we really don't know much about Yliaster, but this reeks of a planned coincidence."

"So they're the same, then," says Jack. "Yliaster and the duelists with Synchro-absorbers?"

"Or at least working together. You know, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' type of thing?" Crow hypothesizes.

The conversation flattens with that. Whether or not Yliaster and duelists like Lucciano are one and the same, it doesn't really make a difference. Not as long as they were running free and skulking about our trail, picking up our breadcrumbs.

Everyone seems to drift into their own thoughts. I glance to my side at the boy who never looked as strong as he does now. Even if it does look like he would burst into tears as soon as no one was watching.

"Come here," I whisper to him, like he has a choice. I extend an arm over his shoulder and pull him close to me. Rua doesn't reject it at all, just lies against my side as he stares at the ground.

"You were good out there. So good, Rua. I'm so proud of you." He wraps his arms round my waist, looking so small all of a sudden, and buries his face in my stomach. I stroke his hair. "You did so well, you know that right? That you were amazing out there?"

He nods his head, and doesn't let go.

Author's Note: I hate how sad this story can get...but I also really love it. Plus, I felt it was necessary for this episode in particular because the way it ended was just too hunky-dory and didn't seem at all right considering this was yet another time the twins' lives have been on the line. But nooooo, the anime shows absolutely nothing of the effects this has on them i.e. real damage = real injuries, trauma from Dark Signers, etc.

I'll spare you all a rant, and instead will thank you for the almost 60 reviews, follows, and faves! I put you guys through the wringer sometimes, I know, so I just want to say thanks again!

TTFN and go kick today's ass!