Disclaimer: Oh no.

My reflection stares back at me in the two-way glass, disheveled and eerily glowing in the yellow lighting of the room. My eyes focus on Mikage's image at the table and a thin film of guilt coats over my heart for making her wake up this early. Though, she looks a hell of a lot better than I do, so that layer grows no thicker.

"Sorry about bringing you here," she says. "This is the only place we can guarantee no disturbances and silence."

For all my former cries and demands, I can utter nothing verbal at the moment. The door opens and it's Ushio wielding caffeine promises for us all. He takes a seat next to Mikage and places a cup out before the chair across from them.

He sips and states, "We're all ears whenever you're ready."

I shift and shuffle further backwards to the wall, my arms crossing to keep warm from an imaginary chill. It's after a few deep, shaky breaths that it comes: "I...I had a dream."

"A dream?" Mikage repeats.

I nod. "I-I get them, as a Star Child. Often. They're usually...strange and for the most part I can never interpret what they mean."

"But this one that you just had," Ushio begins, "led you to believe you killed the two men in the factory?"

The unsaid "why?" goes up in the air for me to catch. "Because of the girl."

"What girl?"

"I have visions, too. In them, there is always this girl. I didn't know why, but it made sense that our connection was through being Star Children because I've never met her before and she's bound to be dead by now and...and..."

My throat swells with gasps and my eyes with tears. I slide down the wall, head between my hands. The partners rush over, Mikage squatting to my level.

"Maria, you have to calm down." She takes my hands in hers and looks me in the eye. "It'll be okay. You just have to calm down."

But I'm not seeing her. It's the girl, the hunking rock raised over herself before swinging it into the laughing man's skull. I flinch on impact.

"I didn't tell anyone." I sniffle, "Not exactly."

"Tell anyone what?" asks Ushio.

"That she killed someone. I watched her kill someone." The waters finally let loose. "I thought...watching her do that I thought, 'This is gonna mess her up. No matter how much damage she'll do to that man, it's going to come back ten fold for her.' And then I thought, before I fell asleep, before I had my dream, 'I don't blame her. I don't blame her at all.'"

"Maria..."

"What does that say about me?" I ask them, words bloating. "What does that say?"

Ushio answers, low and stern. "It doesn't make you a killer, Maria."

I scoff, "So you believe there was a tiger from the zoo running loose that night, like the media said?"

"We don't believe you killed anyone—"

"And neither did I!" I yank my hands out Mikage's grasp and bolt up, pacing now. "I thought it was Zephyrus. I thought he did it t-to protect me because he was there... I spoke to him after! But it makes sense. Maybe that girl...maybe our connection doesn't stop at just being Star Children. Maybe there's something more. There is always something more."

Yusei takes a pull from his mug. The coffee had long gone cold, but that was alright. Probably shouldn't have caffeine before bed, anyhow. He could see Martha nabbing him by the ear at the sight of his nightly routine. And, naturally, the thought of his foster mother brings a smile to his lips.

"I think we're almost there," Bruno yawns, then smiles too.

Yusei nods and helps his partner shut down the equipment, throw the dishes in the sink and toss empty ramen cartons in the trash. As was their routine. Yet, when Yusei's reaching for the lamp's switch and the doorbell dings, he knows without a single doubt that this upward lapse in a time of downward spirals is about to reach its peak.

It was only a matter of time.

Bruno beats him to the door. "Oh boy." When the tall man turns back to him, he's grimacing.

The two detectives plod over the stairs without a word and Ushio roams closer to him. In his arms is Maria, wrapped in a jacket and out cold. Yusei takes her first, his instinct falling on action and not reaction.

Ushio answers before the mechanic can ask, "She was down at Headquarters. She was, uh, pretty messed up to say the least, but she calmed down and fell asleep in the car."

Yusei gazes at Maria, his brows furrowing and mouth firming. "Did she say anything?"

The man and woman share a look, Mikage taking the reins after. "She was talking about this girl that she's been seeing in her dreams and visions—Maria believes she was a Star Child like her. Yet apparently, this girl killed someone. And this has led Maria to believe she may have done the same."

All he can do is look at Maria. The rise and fall of her chest, her long eyelashes. Then and there, Yusei realizes how much it hurt him to do so. Was this what she felt before they made amends? This gut-wrenching, heart-breaking ache that he feels just by the sight of her?

He knew that something was wrong—he'd felt it in the air around her, in the space between her fingers. Yusei knew that something was wrong, but he trusted her so much he convinced himself that she would run to him if she needed to. He should've known better. He should've known her better. Because when push came to shove, the only time Maria came running was when someone else got hurt.

"Look." Ushio shifts, raises his pants by the belt. "I honestly don't know what the fuck to say, nor do we know what the fuck we're going to do about this in the morning. But I'll say this: We appreciate your guys' help. I don't think we'd be anywhere if it wasn't for all of you. Regardless of that, though, we're the police. We'll be the ones handling this investigation. I'm not stupid enough to ask you guys to do nothing, but..."

"Take care of each other," Mikage fills in for him. "Every speck of duty or justice you feel toward these murders, direct it at each other. That should be your main and only concern right now."

Once the goodnights have been bid and glances exchanged between he and Bruno, Yusei goes to his room. Back to the original routine, now with a slight twist: Maria. He nudges the door open with his foot and adjusts his position so he won't knock the girl's head on the frame. Yusei lays her down on the bed, removes her shoes, and tucks her in. Then, he halts.

The moonlight peeking around the curtain alleviates the strain on his sight despite his eyes beginning to adjust to the dark. With hair spilling out around her like a chocolate river and night's light illuminating her face, Maria looks at peace for once. Sure, Yusei had seen her resting before, but there was always a severity that hindered the purity of the moment. In those times, he had watched her with hopes that she'd wake at any second. Now, Yusei wants her to sleep a bit longer, as long as she can. She deserves that.

Maria could sleep now, so that when she awakes in the morning, everything she'd lost in the night would be restored once more.

Yusei brushes his fingers over her hair to clear the view of Maria's face. His hand slides down the side, cupping her cheek. He has no reason why, just that it feels like something he should do. Maria tosses lightly, pushing her face into his palm all the more. But it's just for a second; she rolls over completely afterward, her back turned on him.

Yusei leaves her be and exits his room without a sound. He grabs a pillow and blanket from the hall closet and treks back downstairs to the couch. Kicks off his boots and into the full cushions.

Yeah, he thinks. Everything will be fine in the morning.

"This is not my room," I say under my breath, eyeing the interior around me. It's definitely familiar—the bookshelves, the desk and rolling chair. I'd been here before, after I dueled Aki. "This is one of the guys' rooms."

Flipping back the sheets, I stand from the bed. I start to go for the door, but my inner nerd holds me back. I head for the shelves instead; you can learn a lot about someone from the books they read, especially ones they have in their personal library. Take my mom, for instance. Her library back at Martha's is filled with gaudy romance novels. But I still read them.

'Like mother, like daughter,' I guess.

There's not many, roughly half the space is filled. But the texts are thick and beat up, and all about physics. It is no shot in the dark to figure out who all these belong to. When I pick one up—Relativity: The Special and General Theory by Albert Einstein—and scroll through it, a smile rises to my mouth. Underlined passages, dog-eared pages, reminders and notes sloppily penciled in margins.

What a freaking nerd!

"I didn't know physics was so funny."

I throw the book on the floor and clutch my heart, shouting, "Jesus!"

"No," Yusei says, "just me."

My eyes roll. When I've finally caught my breath, I tell him, "You should really get some heavier boots or start wearing a bell or something because this is just getting out of hand."

"Sorry," he chuckles, like the wind. "I was trying to be quiet because I figured you were still sleeping."

"And obviously you tried a bit too hard." I pick ol' Albert off the floor and dust him off, then place the book back with the rest of his friends. "Have you read all these?"

He follows my gaze to the rows of books. "Yeah."

I turn my smile on him and let it sink in. Yusei watches, waits. "That's incredible."

"Have you read any?" comes his simple response.

"No. The only physics I know is from what I learned in the tenth grade. And even then, I don't remember much."

He hums and nods. Yusei's next question doesn't quite flow as well as usual, but his body language gives little away so I can't make out the cause. "Did you like it?"

"Physics? Um," I look up at the ceiling as memories of tedious labs and mountains of vocabulary climb back into my brain, "it was okay. It didn't really click for me, but I got an A so..."

"Well," Yusei clears his throat, "if you ever decide to give it another shot, feel free to borrow any of these."

"Maybe I will." I grin. "But first: do I smell bacon?"

We journey to the lowest level of the house. Jack and Bruno sit at the table, the former merely glancing up from his morning paper. The tech whiz has his mouth too full to do anything other than wave his fork. Crow mans the stove, sans headband and donning a frilly, pink apron.

"There she is, our little Sleeping Beauty!" he greets over his shoulder. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled, please." I plop down next to Bruno. "I really like your apron, by the way."

"Oh yeah? Me too! I think it really brings out my," Crow uses the spatula to gesture to himself, "everything."

I laugh, "Yes. Yes, it accentuates every bit of your you-ness."

Yusei catches my eye beside him, the coffee pot raised in a wordless question. "Sure, I'll take some." The mechanic hands me the cup as he sits next to his blond brother. I stare into the bottomless pit of black liquid and look back at him. Yusei raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "You don't have cream?"

"Cream is for weak, half-hearted simpletons who confuse coffee with some kind of whip-creamed sugary dessert," announces Jack.

I take the insult with a grain of salt. "Okay."

"Don't listen to him. He's an ass crown," Crow assures.

"It's ass clown, you idiot." Jack flips a page. "At least get it right."

"No, ass crown. It's the highest tier of all asses." Crow hands me the milk carton. "It's an honor, really."

I tip the carton over and hardly anything dribbles out.

"There's sugar!" Bruno attempts, smiling. "But you might have to use a lot."

"Mm, that's okay." I gaze longingly at the mug once more. "Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

"Now you're just being dramatic," Crow deadpans. He returns, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me and jutting his spatula at Jack. "You've been influencing her too much."

"I think I'm gonna drink it," I inform the table.

Yusei states, a chuckle rumbling up from his throat, "Maria, if you don't like it that way, then don't drink it."

"But you worked so hard to make it."

"He literally poured it out of one cup into another cup," Crow says, every word stiff and monotone. "Just give it to me." He plucks the mug from my mitts and guzzles it down the hatch. When his last gulp is down and the cup emptied, he grins. "I'm gonna feel that for the rest of the week," Crow croaks through tight lips.

"I can do it better!" Jack darts up from his seat, hands perched on his hips and eyeing something glorious in the distance.

"Jack, no," Yusei groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You'll burn yourself from the heat just like Crow."

"Burn? Heat?" Jack whips his head around, expression insulted. "What is heat to a dragon?"

Crow holds up a halting hand to Yusei, his aura radiating confidence and wisdom. "It's no use. He's too far gone."

"You just wanna see him do it."

"Pretty much."

"Is breakfast always this exciting?" I whisper to Bruno, mouth full of bacon.

He wags his head side to side as we behold Jack's performance of downing the rest of the coffee pot's contents. "More or less."

My eyes roam over the paper Jack was scanning moments ago. Taking another bite of eggs, I look at the cover page. More talk of the alley murders, but nothing new. Just the same intentional nonsense about a drug dealer turned serial killer who targets nightclubbers and druggies. It's obviously marketed news toward the higher-class citizens of New Domino to make that feel at ease—"As long as you live a pristine, boring lifestyle and shield your eyes with your billions of dollars, you have no need to worry."

"I can't feel my mouth."

"That's called a third-degree burn."

But there are troubles written between the lines. The murderer has no pattern, no preferences. Male or female, rich or poor. Only good health and lowered guards. The majority of attacks don't head far into the center of either city, but with no fingerprints or signs of struggle it's hard to say that all of them even start in the alley; the victims could simply be dumped there on convenience. As with Sora Fukui, perhaps not all of them were chased.

"Feels like victory."

"This wasn't a competition. Just you being stupid."

I stand to my feet. "This newspaper's from today?"

Crow answers, "Should be. Why?"

—

I only asked that Yusei give me a ride. But since Crow took the day off and Jack was bored and Bruno didn't want to be alone, the five of us end up going to Nayla's for her sendoff. Her last big hurrah before officially and permanently planting her roots in at White Pines Retirement Home.

Martha, Dr. Schmidt, and Leo are packing the doctor's station wagon as we pull up. And I'm off quicker than Yusei can remove his helmet. Through the front door, past Zora, and down the hall. To her room.

Nayla's on the bed, scrutinizing a picture frame in her hands. I wanted to wait until she saw me, noticed me—that's what I imagined I'd do in this moment. That I had never drowned on the beach. That Nayla would look up and see me for who I was. Who I am. And she would say my name.

But being here in the moment, a familiar feeling delves back to my bones. A feeling that ushers me to run to her, to hug her. A feeling that has nothing to lose, because it had already lost everything once before and is still alive to see the sun rise.

"I'm going to miss you," I breathe out.

Nayla lays a palm to my arm, laughing, "Where am I going?"

I release her and look into the face of the unknown. For the first time, I'm unafraid. "The home, Nayla. The White Pines Retirement Home."

"Ah yes. The tree place." She nods flippantly. "How could I forget?"

I sit back, my legs folding under me, and take her in. The unknown...never before had it been so bright, so golden.

"Tell me, dear," Nayla raises a hand to my cheek and wipes away the leak that has sprung, "why are you crying?"

"I don't know." I laugh airily. "It just happened."

"Life tends to do that to us, huh? Happen." She holds my hand in her frail ones. "I'm not worried about the house. Zora will take good care of it; it's what she always does, you know? Taking care of others. I suppose that's what I admire best about her, maybe even been jealous of from time to time. And I know that you're much like me, but what I'm going to ask of you is very," Nayla chuckles, "Zora."

"I'll do anything," I whisper. "Just tell me."

She smiles, a side of her mouth lifting higher than the other. Then it flattens entirely. "Look after my boy, Anastasia. I know he hates me and he won't come visit. But I also know that you have a pull on him like no one else, not even his own mother. So," she pats my hand and chokes on the rest of her plea, "please just be there for him. For me."

And the light is so vivid, it blinds me. "Okay."

As she wraps her arms around my neck, the feeling becomes more than just. Like it had the day of my last vision, the day I cried in Yusei's arms, the feeling numbs every nerve in my body. Fades every color in my field of vision. I wish for it to crawl back into the hole it came from, but honestly, I think it's here to stay.

"Are you just about ready, Nayla?" Zora asks.

"Just about." She gives me one good squeeze before she lets go. Zora and I help her get into the wheelchair. Nayla's halfway in the hall by the time she points back, "Tatsuo!"

I look down at the bed and find the picture she'd been holding, a portrait of her husband with his brown hair swished to one side and giving a ghost of a smile. I hand it off.

"Oh my," says Nayla as we enter the living room. "What did I do to deserve so many handsome young men in my home?"

"Easy, tiger," Martha grins. "Those men happen to be my sons."

Nayla gives the guys a collective look over and turns back to my grandmother with a thumbs-up. "Well done, Martha."

The guys try not to give much of a reaction, but from Crow's chortling and Bruno's blushing, they're certainly flattered. I come up beside Yusei and try to withstand his probing gaze.

Schmidt leans through the front door. "The van's all packed."

"Then I'm off!" Nayla smiles.

One by one we trickle onto the porch. Martha employs Jack to carry Nayla down the steps, and this time Nayla doesn't insist on doing it herself. Leo kneels by her in the passenger seat of the station wagon.

She cups his face face with both hands. "You've gotten so big!"

He laughs it off, or tries to. "I know, Auntie. You said that earlier and yesterday and—"

Zora shoots him a glare and he must feel it in the back of his head because his words cut off into awkward chuckles. Nayla picks the conversation up, her countenance conveying the dismay she forbid her words to speak. "It's just a constant surprise is all. Time really does fly."

He nods. "Speaking of which, I fixed up a little something for you at the shop."

She closes her eyes almost instantly. Leo takes something from his pocket and straps it to her wrist—I assume it's a watch, but I can't really see. When Nayla opens her eyes again, it's all hugs and laughs and thanks yous. As that scene closes, so does her car door. Schmidt starts the engine and Martha buckles up in the back seat. We wave them off until they're out of sight.

Just like that.

"I'm going to make tea," Zora declares in the silence.

"Tea sounds good," Crow pipes up.

"I didn't say I was offering you any."

"Aw, come on!"

I stand against the beam, still staring at the road beyond. It seems dark.

Without looking, I know it's Yusei who rests his hand on my shoulder. I place my hand atop his and remove it. But I don't let go. If I do, he might leave.

"Heyo...oh-ho-ho." Crow appears in the door suddenly and breaks the link of palms by surprise. He chuckles and raises his eyebrows suggestively, a jokester with something other than a good laugh up his sleeve. "Didn't mean to intrude. I was just coming to say you guys should come see these rad pictures of Martha when she was our age—she's flippin' off the camera and got a nose ring and it's great. But, y'know, by all means continue what you guys were doing!"

He shoots us finger-guns and fades back into the house with everyone else. My eyes stay averted after he's fled. As much as I thought I wanted Yusei around a moment ago, all I want now is to be alone. So I coil my arms around me, myself and I.

"I'll be in the back."

Then I leave him. Pass everyone in the living room with a frigid smile and leave them, too. Retreat into the cave of Tatsuo's books and pick a few off the shelves, not even caring what they pertain to. I open one and stare at the pages. I try reading, but it always comes back to staring.

A cup clinks onto the desk. My sight charges up to Zora's and I relax. "Thanks."

Then it's more staring, but not by my doing. Finally, once Zora's chosen whatever she was thinking, she reaches into her pocket. Out come the car keys and a sigh. "Nayla said, 'Better it breathe the fresh air than suffocate another day in the garage.'"

She lays the keys down on the book's center line and goes without another word. The keys jangle around the ring when I pick them back up; I attach the house and cafe key to it and shove them all back in my hoodie pocket. I hope the tea will do anything to calm me, but that's it. I'm already calm, like an empty room or shallow river.

I stack the books over each other and leave the tea on the desk. Everyone sounds like they're in the front room still, so I stay in the back. I don't return to Nayla's room; it seems senseless without her in it. There is one other room in the house, the only room after the office. I open the door.

Posters. So many that the only wall space to be seen is from where a poster used to hang, it appears. A couple are duelists I've never heard of (probably because they don't duel anymore) or flyers dating a local tournament. Most are bands and singers—a few even signed. And on the wall of the bed's headboard is a floor-to-ceiling map of the world. I examine it closer and notice the pins stuck in some of the locations, clusters of them in the Americas and Europe.

A tiny, white flag sits on one: Machu Picchu, December 2029

Another at the top lists, Alta, June 2025

They are all like that, place and date.

A chest rests at the end of the bed and on the wall across from it are a desk and chair. The headboard has built in shelves, but where I would have put books Hiro had put action figures. Three are of Kaiba, the richest orphan the world had ever seen. Yet the rest are dinosaurs, more than my knowledge of the T-Rex and Pterodactyl know what to do with.

I sit on the edge of the chair, daring but never comfortable. Give it a few spins. Nothing on the desktop other than a placemat and an abandoned mouse. I open the bottom cabinet of the desk—just piles of computer games and online books. Tug the top drawer's handle.

Above a thin stack of science magazines lay two cards. The first, the one face-up is Baby Dragon, who looks exactly as its name suggests. With orange scales and narrowed eyes, the duel monster looks like he's up to trouble; it reminds me of Crow. I flip the other over: Jurrac Tyrannus, who looks like a baby dinosaur—my near-vanished recollection of Jurassic Park murmurs that it's a raptor.

Footsteps clamor down the hall then. I could easily just close the drawer, but as we all know I'm not in my tip-toppiest mental or emotional state right now. So, instead, the age-old rule of "finders keepers" urges me to stuff them in my pocket.

Leo pokes his head in, eyeing the posters before finding me. "Wow, this place hasn't changed one bit. I miss being in this room!" He sits back on the bed, his legs swinging up from impact. "Auntie Nayla used to let me play in here all the time!"

My eyes sweep the floor while my head nods with apathy. Please go away.

"Anyway," he gets to his point. "Remember how I said you looked familiar to me when we first met?"

"Yeah."

Leo lifts off the bed, another simple motion made grand, and stands by the chair. I hadn't noticed the album in his arms. Must have been too caught up in my own misery. He thumbs through it, mumbling to himself for losing the page until he finds it. Then, he lowers the book to my line of vision.

Mom and Hiro. It's them the oldest I've seen, somewhere in their teens. Close to my age, probably. Mom's smiling as intensely as ever, full lips tinted red. Her hair is held at bay by a tie-dye headband. She was exuding confidence even then. And Hiro is beside her, bed-headed and four-eyed. Wearing a Joy Division tee and looking away from the lens. His father's phantom smile is imprinted on his lips.

Leo snaps the book shut. My start seems to go unnoticed. "You're a bit paler and your hair's lighter, but you look like her. You related?"

"Yeah."

"That makes sense." Leo rolls his eyes at himself. "Especially why Mom doesn't like you."

My lazy gaze slowly firms into something more. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know much about her—the girl in the picture. Just that Mom blamed her for Auntie Nayla and Cousin Hiro losing touch." Leo shrugs, the album swinging in his hands. "You know, because they ran away together."

—

I cry.

But, first I drive. I step out the back door. Open the garage. Rev the truck's engine and chug through the unknown. I have no clue where I'm going, just that I can't be where I am.

And I am at the beach, pounding my fists at the wheel and bawling my eyes out.

I can't stop staring at that stupid fucking picture I took, the one Leo showed me. I noticed their ages and appearances before, but what was most important I hadn't seen till now: he was looking at her. Mom was looking at the camera, but Hiro was looking at her. And I know that look. Even blind men know that look. Because the only people who don't know that look are ones who have never been loved.

And I know what that means. I know what that look means for me but what I don't know is how to speak it out loud. How to confront Martha about it. Because I have to. I couldn't be in that house and not demand the truth.

After today, I don't know if I could be in that house at all.

So I sit there a bit longer, like I'd grown a root to the truck. Thinking. Would I cry? Would I yell? Would I simply show her what I see and hope she'll know what I know—what she didn't want to tell me and what I wish I didn't know?

I'm speeding over the bridge. It doesn't matter. I don't care.

It's dark when I'm back at Martha's. I don't shout to the house that I'm home or take off my shoes. I head straight to the kitchen and sit.

It won't be long enough for a root to sprout.

Martha does a double-take over her shoulder and releases a frightened exhale after. "I think this is the first time you've ever snuck up on me."

"Sorry." I try to smile. "How was the home?"

"It was alright. Schmidtty and I stayed for a while to set up Nayla's room and keep her company. It's a fairly nice place, as nice as those places can be," she shares and continues dishwashing. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah."

"When we got back, the boys said you'd left somewhere."

"I went to the beach."

Martha grabs the rag and dries her hands. Her brows align as she questions, "What's at the beach?"

My eyes lower to the table. "We were there yesterday. Nayla, Yusei, and I. I figured since the truck was all fixed up we could go for a ride and the engine began overheating, so it's just where we ended up. But it was beautiful. It was...a miracle. Nayla and I were in the sand watching the sunset. And she looked at me. And I knew. I knew that she didn't know who I was."

"Honey, I'm sorry." Her hand smooths over mine. "I'm sorry."

"So I went back. Not to capture the memory Nayla had lost, but to realize something else. Do you know what?" My voice cracks and I look at her. "I realized that I don't know who I am, either."

The confusion lies bare on her face. "What are you talking about? You know who you are. You know exactly who you are."

"Why would you send me to her, Martha?" I wheeze out. "Why would you send me to Nayla when you knew she would forget me?"

Now she knows, too. I can see it. "Because she needed to see your face."

I pull my hand away and pull out the picture, unfold it and push it toward her. "Because of him, right? Because he's my dad?"

When she opens her mouth, it's not to sputter excuses or apologies. It's to breathe. Martha looks relieved. No more confusion, but relief and pain. And most of all, fear.

"We think so."

*nervous laughter...hours and hours of nervous laughter to hide the tears*

TTFN