Chapter Eight

Kazuki Kaiba estate
Just outside Nagoya, Japan

Yami awoke to find himself lying in bed, in his old room in his father's mansion. As he lay blinking fuzzily at the distant ceiling, he reflected that he had never really thought of the stuffy old place as belonging to both his parents, even before their divorce. Perhaps it was because his mother had always seemed to prefer a canvas tent on some remote archeological dig site, or maybe it was simply that his father's personality was so indelibly stamped into every stone and tile of the house he had built.

For a moment, Yami lay there wondering how he had gotten from the shuttle to the mansion. The last thing he remembered was splitting pain stabbing into his temples… and then blessed darkness. With a low groan, he rolled onto his side and slowly sat up. He felt oddly sluggish, as if his hangover were only now deciding to catch up with him. He scrubbed both hands over his face, then raked his fingers through his hair. He found himself wondering if Yugi was all right…

Yami shook himself. He had to stop dwelling on that. He didn't have time for personal entanglements, right now. Duty called. He really had no choice but to answer.

As he swung his legs off the bed, something ghosted against his senses, like a faintly heard, almost subliminal voice. Yami froze. Had he actually heard something or…?

There it was again, the whisper of a voice just at the edge of consciousness. Yami shivered. What the hell was going on? Was he really losing his mind? He rubbed his hands over his arms, where the fine hairs were standing on end. Perhaps Anzu had decided to haunt him, to punish him for letting her die in his stead.

…Or maybe he was just imagining things.

Rising a bit stiffly, Yami realized that someone had removed his tattered jeans and replaced them with a pair of silk pajamas. His bare torso was covered in bruises from his motorcycle crash, but the worst of the abrasions had been treated and covered with fresh bandages. Barefoot, he padded into the en suite to splash cool water on his face and swallow a couple of analgesic tablets from the medicine cabinet. When he returned to the bedroom, he noticed the suit that had been laid out for him on the settee at the foot of the bed. How like his father to dictate, down to the understated navy-blue tie, what Yami should wear.

He expelled his breath in a harsh sigh and muttered under his breath, "Welcome home, Yami."

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Dressed in the charcoal gray, designer suit, his dark-red hair as tamed as it ever got, Yami sauntered downstairs, ready to beard the lion in his den. But when he came down the grand, sweeping staircase into the foyer, he found Suit Number Two waiting for him. The man bowed politely.

"Your father is expecting you at Kaiba Corp, sir."

"Very well."

Suit Number Two handed him his coat and a new phone to replace the one Yami had accidentally trashed on Mars. "The helicopter is waiting outside."

Yami suppressed a groan. He was stiff and sore, and wanted to stay in bed for at least a week. Instead, he had to go face his father's plans for his future, then figure out a way to infiltrate his own company without anyone getting wise to his true purpose. And the day had only just begun.

"Fine," Yami snapped, shrugging into the coat and jamming the phone into his pocket. "Let's go."

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The Kaiba Corp Industrial Complex was exactly as Yami remembered it. At the center was the main executive tower, fortified by special shock absorbers and reinforced struts to withstand the earthquakes which struck Japan. Surrounding it were smaller, lower structures housing various company divisions, including research and development. In the distance loomed the huge vehicle assembly building where the Duel Mecha were constructed and tested before being shipped to Mars.

With the recent step-up in production, the newer mecha were being assembled at the Kaiba Corp facility on Mars, saving on production and shipping costs, as well as decreasing the lead time from initial design to delivery of the final product. While he thought it was a good idea in theory, and that it certainly made sense from a corporate standpoint, Yami had seen the reports coming out of the Mars facility and had some concerns about the quality of the work being done there. Perhaps he could talk to his father about tightening quality controls… He grimaced. His father would probably tell him it was none of his concern. No doubt Kazuki Kaiba had some loftier position in mind for his son -- an executive position in sales, perhaps. Nothing where Yami would have to get his hands dirty or his suit wrinkled. He glanced down at his impeccable suit jacket and had a horrifying vision of being forced to wear it, and its ilk, every day for the foreseeable future. It wasn't a future he relished.

The helicopter touched down on the private helipad atop the central tower, forcing him out of his unhappy reverie. Yami and his stoic companion ducked beneath the rotors and ran for the door being held open by one of his father's assistants. Inside, Yami took a moment to attempt to smooth his hair, which had been whipped into disarray by the rotor wash. After a few seconds, he gave it up as a lost cause and followed the assistant as she led the way through a veritable maze of plushly carpeted corridors. His polished, too-stiff wingtip shoes pinched his feet, his head throbbed, and his bruises ached. Suit Number Two kept pace beside him, guarding him -- or preventing him from escaping. Yami's frown deepened.

It had been nearly two years since Yami had last walked through these hushed corridors. In that time, there had been some definite changes. Once the executive suite had housed what amounted to a tribute to Gozaburo's son, case after polished case filled with Seto's trophies -- mostly second place, Yami thought with a smirk. Now… Yami stared at the array of gleaming, carefully displayed awards spread out before him.

All the trophies he had won, in everything from motocross to marksmanship to mech racing, resided in the cases, set out for all who entered these offices to see. At intervals between the trophy cases, larger-than-life holosolid portraits of himself -- attired in mud-spattered racing leathers, or his SSDF flightsuit, or an expensive suit very like the one he was currently wearing -- smiled down at him from the walls. He remembered the portraits; his father had created them to display proudly at home. Now, they were here at Kaiba Corp's main offices. He paused before the holosolid of himself in his pilot's uniform. He wondered exactly when his father had added that one; he hadn't thought his father would want to acknowledge Yami's stint in the Defense Force, much less put it on public exhibit. Would he ever understand his father? He shook his head. Probably not in this lifetime.

The last time he had walked down this particular corridor, he hadn't returned. At least, not by using the corridor. No, in his very first gestalt with his Duel Mecha, he had left through the massive back entrance; the man who returned had been profoundly changed by that first encounter. Just as the man he was now was a very different person from the reckless, convinced-of-his-own-immortality youth he had been just two years ago.

The corridor ended at a 't' intersection; he automatically turned left. And came up short.

Standing there before him, looking for all the world as if she had been waiting for him, her head tilted to one side in an achingly-familiar gesture and a gentle smile on her lovely face, was Anzu. His heart spasmed once in recognition, a thrill of shock and alarm -- here, at last, was the ghost he had long been expecting, finally come to haunt him -- electrifying his nerves before he noticed the slight translucence around the edges that told him she was actually a holosolid projection. In a small alcove set into the wall, a holographic projector created the life-size image of his betrothed. A tasteful bronze plaque on the wall stated the dates of her birth and death; underneath them was a short description of her heroic action at Jupiter Station.

Yami stepped forward and covered her name with his hand. His eyes burned. She had struggled against death, forestalling the inevitable long enough to pull him from gestalt. Perhaps, if she had focused that incredible strength of will on fighting for her own survival, she might have lived. Instead, she had given up her life, for him. He pressed his palm against the raised characters that formed her name and whispered softly, "…Anzu."

"Miss Mazaki would have been a fitting match for you," a deep, familiar voice stated thoughtfully from behind him.

"Father," Yami acknowledged without turning around.

"So, you are finally ready to give up this pilot foolishness and take up your true destiny," Kazuki Kaiba said, coming to stand beside his son. "My patience has been rewarded, at last. I am pleased."

Struggling to rein in his irritation, Yami looked for the artist's signature on the holosolid. The mark of a familiar artist's seal, stamped in red "ink" in the corner of the 'solid, caught him by surprise.

"You?" Yami asked, finally turning to look at his father. "You made this portrait of Anzu?"

"She was an admirable young woman, with many excellent qualities. I would not have selected her to be your intended wife, otherwise," Kazuki Kaiba stated. "Her sacrifice at Jupiter Station only confirmed what I knew."

"How can you be so cold about it?" Yami choked out. "She gave her life--"

"I am grateful for what she did for you, Yami. How could I not be?" Kazuki gazed at his son, an unreadable emotion flickering in his eyes. They were almost of a height, and Yami got a good look at his father's expression. Even then, he still couldn't decipher it. "But my admiration for her doesn't change the fact that she died. There's nothing more she can do for you. It is time to put aside whatever dreams led you into space, and take up your rightful place -- here, at my side."

Yami clenched his fists. He would storm out of here willingly, but for... Damn. Damn it all to hell.

He took a deep breath, forced a complacent smile on his face and looked at his father.

"Which department did you want me to take over?"

"Despite what you may think of me, my son, I'm not a complete ogre." His father favored him with the barest hint of a smile. "While you may not be piloting any longer, I thought to allow you to continue the work you were doing on Mars Station, heading Kaiba Corp's enhanced mecha division for me. I know you like the mecha divisions best, after all."

Yami glanced at his father in surprise. He felt a momentary regret that he couldn't be totally honest with his father about why he had left Mars Station -- about what he was really doing. Still, Yami had to hand it to his old man. His father's attempt to make the transition easier on him put Yami exactly where he needed to be to complete his true mission. Yami wondered if his father would be proud of what he was doing -- if ever Yami could admit it to him freely.

"I trust you are feeling up to assuming your new responsibilities, Yami," Kazuki said. "Doctor Uzuki assures me that your injuries are not life-threatening." His gaze sharpened. "What have you been doing on that station to end up in such shape -- bruised from head to toe and passing out on the way to Earth?"

Attempting to ignore the pain of stiff and sore muscles, Yami drew himself up to his full height. "It's nothing, Father. I assure you I am quite capable of fulfilling my duties."

A fleeting smile of approval graced his father's usually stern features. "I knew you would not disappoint me." He began to walk, Yami falling into step beside him.

"Rafael will show you to your new office," Kazuki continued, indicating Suit Number Two with the barest flick of his hand. "Take the opportunity to familiarize yourself with the workings of the division. There will be a press conference at two o'clock. I expect you to be there."

"Yes, Father."

"Do try to do something with your hair before then, Yami." Kazuki's own hair was of course, perfectly coiffed, every black strand neatly in place. His dark gaze flickered over Yami's attire. "You were correct to change your tie, however. That one is much more suitable than the blue."

Yami's hand went automatically to the deep purple tie he had, in a fit of momentary rebellion, substituted for the navy-blue tie which had been selected for him. He opened his mouth to respond, but his father was already striding off down the corridor toward his own office. A rueful smile lifting the corners of his mouth, Yami shook his head and turned to Rafael.

"Lead on," he said.

Rafael's stoic expression didn't change. "Yes, sir."

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Domino City
Arcadia Planitia
Kaiba Corporation Colony, Mars

Yugi had cleaned up the kitchen, opened the game shop, and had just typed the name "Yami Kaiba" into a search engine on the shop's computer when his grandfather appeared at the front door. Yugi looked up with a smile. "Hey, Grandpa! Did you have a nice time at the expo?"

Solomon Mutou returned the smile, if a little tiredly. "It was fine, Yugi. I've got some swag for you in my luggage." He continued on through the shop, dragging his heavy suitcase. Yugi hurried out from behind the counter to help. "Ah. Thank you, m'boy," Solomon said as Yugi took over struggling with his luggage. "That thing gets heavier every year."

"No problem, Grandpa." Yugi panted his way upstairs, dragging the bulky suitcase behind him. He deposited the suitcase in his grandpa's room, then bounced back downstairs in time to see his grandpa frowning at the computer monitor.

"What's this?" Solomon asked, pointing at the screen. "Why are you researching the Kaiba family?"

"No reason," Yugi said, reaching over and deleting the search box. "Just curious, I guess."

Solomon shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a little healthy curiosity." He smiled at his grandson. "Nothing wrong with a little healthy exercise, either. So, how about running an errand for your old grandpa?"

Yugi resisted the urge to sigh. "Sure, Grandpa."

Twenty minutes later, Yugi was walking home from the gourmet coffee shop with his grandpa's latest order of Sumatran beans tucked safely under his arm. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have minded the walk, but he was still sore from his run-in with Yami's motorcycle, so he decided to take a short-cut through an alley that would cut a good ten minutes off his route.

All was going well until he suddenly found his path blocked by a strangely-dressed figure. The man was taller than Yugi (though there was nothing unusual about that), and elaborately dressed in a crimson suit with a matching top hat. A wide, black-and-white striped bow tie and cummerbund completed the decidedly odd look. The man's hair was slicked back, and his features were hidden by a large, striped mask. He pointed one hand at Yugi in a theatrical gesture and intoned, "Get ready, little Yugi!"

Little? Yugi frowned. He knew he was short; why did people have to keep harping on it? Did they think he would suddenly forget and start believing he was tall if he wasn't reminded often enough? Shaking his head, he moved to go around the weirdo.

The strange man moved to again block his way. "You can't escape me that easily!"

Oh, boy. Yugi began backing slowly away, hoping to put enough distance between him and this whacko that he could make a run for it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop right where you are, Yugi Mutou!" the man demanded.

"Why should I?" Yugi retorted, still inching his way back toward the mouth of the alley. Just a little farther…

"I challenge you to a duel!" The stranger thrust his arm into the air. The device strapped to his wrist hummed to life and a virulently red Kaiba Corp logo flashed briefly overhead.

Yugi felt the knot of tension in his stomach ease. The guy was a duelist! That explained what he wanted with Yugi, who had met some rather eccentric duelists while playing in some of the larger tournaments. It also explained how this stranger knew who Yugi was. After his latest win, he had been crowned "King of Games" in Industrial Illusions' planetwide competition. There were probably few in the gaming world who didn't know who he was, now.

"Uh, sorry," Yugi said. He had stopped backing away, and he would have enjoyed a duel, but… "I'm afraid I can't accept your challenge. You see, I don't have my duel disk with me. Or even my deck."

The stranger looked stunned by the revelation. Crestfallen, he asked, "You… don't?"

"Nope." Yugi offered a sheepish grin, flushing a bit with embarrassment. "My duel disk is broken. I, uh, kinda left it on one of the kitchen chairs at home and my grandpa …sat on it." To be fair, it had been an accident. And Grandpa hadn't been too happy about it, either, since it meant sitting on cushions for about a week afterward. "He's going to get it fixed, but he's been really busy and --" Yugi shrugged helplessly. "Sorry."

"I…see." The man seemed to shrink inside his odd clothing. He let the arm bearing the duel disk fall limply to his side, where it swung back and forth like a forgotten pendulum.

"I'm really sorry--"

"No, no. It's fine. I …understand." Duel disk still humming quietly in stand-by mode, the stranger turned and trudged back into the shadows at the far end of the alleyway.

Yugi watched him for a minute, then scurried back out onto the crowded thoroughfare. It might take a little longer for him to reach home, but… He shook his head, not quite sure whether to laugh or freak out about his close encounter of the weird kind. He supposed it was the price of his new fame, but he didn't think he would ever get used to it.

With a final shake of his head, and a rather shaky laugh, he hurried toward home.

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Kaiba Corporation Interplanetary Headquarters
Nagoya, Japan

Once they had reached his new office, Yami had given Rafael a set of instructions before sending him on his way. The man had informed him that he would return at two o'clock to escort Yami to the press conference, then gone to carry out his assigned tasks.

Alone, Yami took a moment to look around. The office was well-appointed, with thick carpeting and tastefully understated furnishings. Three walls were paneled in real mahogany polished to a rich, reddish-brown gleam; the fourth was a spotless wall of glass overlooking the immaculate park far below. In front of the window wall, a large antique desk sat waiting for him. In sharp contrast to the soft patina of teak and mahogany, the computer atop the desk shone with chrome and black plastic. He locked the doors and drew a compact device from the inner pocket of his jacket. The device beeped once, quietly, as he activated it, and a tiny light on the upper face flashing green. Moving swiftly and efficiently, he scanned the entire room with the device, paying special attention to the lamps, windows, and electronics such as the work station on his desk.

When he was satisfied that the office was free of surveillance devices, he went to the desk and activated the computer. He spent a few minutes browsing through files and familiarizing himself with his new department. After all, it was important that he be seen to be actively filling the position his father had chosen for him. No one must suspect what he was really here to do.

Finally, Yami settled down to his real work. First, he used a data chip to install a stealth program onto his work station. The program would cover his tracks and ensure that no one could trace his actions within the company's systems back to him. Pulling that chip from the computer's 'in' port, he inserted one that would install a ferret program. The ferret was designed to seek out any data matching the parameters already encoded in the program. Then it would download that information to the external memory cache he hooked into the back of the machine. The memory cache was a small, rectangular device about the size of an old-fashioned matchbox, though considerably thinner, and easily hidden from view. He would be able to go about his business while the ferret searched out files containing references to the Dark Magician mech …and Jupiter Station.

Yami's hand trembled a bit as he pulled it back from the machine. His thoughts turned back to the day before, when General Anderson had called him into his office and delivered the bombshell that tore Yami's world apart.

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General Anderson's expression was even more taciturn that usual as he waved Yami to a seat in one of the two visitor's chairs before his massive oak desk. "I assume, Major," Anderson said, "that you are aware of the rumors circulating about an informer on the station."

"Yes, sir." Yami raised an eyebrow. "But such rumors have been making the rounds since--"

"They're true."

"Sir… As grave as this news is, what does it have to do with my department?" He wasn't a hot shot pilot anymore; he was just a desk jockey, tucked away and nearly forgotten in the depths of the station's lower rings.

"I have reason to believe that the informer is someone in the Duel Mecha division," Anderson said gravely. His steely gray eyes were somber, but unwavering, awaiting Yami's reaction.

"You can't suspect one of the pilots! Sir, we… They risk their lives everyday! Not one of them would--"

"No, no." Anderson raised a hand to ward off further protests. "Neither the pilots nor their Anchors are under suspicion, Major. I believe it's someone in one of the support offices -- most probably, in mech support."

Yami's department. His eyes widened. "General… Sir, may I ask how you arrived at this conclusion?"

"This." Anderson pushed a thin manila folder across the desk. "I'm sure I needn't tell you, Major, that what you're about to see is top secret. It's to go no farther than the confines of this office."

"Yes, sir." Curiosity warring with trepidation, Yami pulled the folder to him and slowly opened it. He read the top sheet of paper inside, his frown growing more pronounced with each passing second. When he reached the end of the page, he flipped quickly to the next. By the time he had finished reading the entire report, his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the pages.

"Is this…? This is true, sir?" Yami choked on the words, the paper crumpling between his fingers. "There's no possibility that this is a mistake?"

"None." Anderson's voice was kind but firm. "I'm sorry."

The pages rattled in Yami's hand. When he looked up, his eyes were haunted. "This says that there was a flaw in the Dark Magician's armor…A flaw that allowed that Orichalcos soldier's shot to take me out in one blow…" And that meant the alien's "lucky shot" had been no such thing.

Anderson, silent, watched him process the revelation.

"It was a design flaw? " Yami asked, finally.

"It was a known design flaw," Anderson responded. "Someone knew about it, and knew about it soon enough to tell our alien 'friends' all about it. That was no 'lucky shot' that took you out, Major. The enemy knew exactly where to aim."

"Anzu didn't have to die?" Yami's voice was barely audible, the words forced past the choking tightness in his throat. "Why did…? Why didn't we know about this?"

"Someone buried the reports, Yami," Anderson said. He gestured to the folder lying on the desk between them. "Not just one report. Every damn mention of the actual chink in the Dark Magician's armor…Buried, shunted aside, hidden. Until it was too late."

Yami's eyes burned. "Who knew about this?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Anderson's gray eyes were hard. "A cover-up of this magnitude would require more than just one man on-station."

Trying to think through the shock and grief that had temporarily frozen his mind, Yami said, "There has to be someone at Kaiba Corp, sir. It's the only way…"

Anderson nodded. "I think you're right, Major." He leaned toward Yami, lowering his voice to a dangerous growl. "So, tell me. Do you want a chance to take the bastards down?"

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Yami had accepted that chance, even though it meant also accepting leaving the station -- and appearing to leave the service -- under a dark cloud of suspicion. No one could know the true reason for his abrupt departure; his mission was too important to compromise over something as trivial as mere ego, even if it hurt to contemplate what Joey and his other friends must think of him, now.

Things had been so much simpler when he was a pilot. He sighed. It had been over a year since he had entered a gestalt. There were times when he missed the thrill of merging his mind with that of the AI, becoming the Dark Magician, and blasting into space. But then he would remember the horror of that last flight, of being pulled back into himself only to watch Anzu die in his arms.

He trembled with the force of the memory. The stench of blood and burning electronics choked him, and he retched, gagging on air. His skin felt cold, then hot by turns, goosebumps racing across his flesh. Gasping, he clutched the arms of his chair, feeling his heart racing as if it would burst. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see… his vision was spiraling down into a gray tunnel. Yami doubled over, one hand clutching at his heart. He felt as if he were dying.

It took him a moment to realize that the buzzing sound he was hearing was not just a ringing in his ears, but the sound of the intercom on his desk. Yami fought to breathe past the constriction in his chest, fought to force himself to some semblance of outward calm. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, he was able to straighten in his chair and reach for the intercom.

"Yes?" His voice sounded rough to his ears; he cleared his throat and tried again. "What is it?"

"Sir, there's someone here to see you," the voice of his secretary, whom he had seen only briefly, responded. "Mr. Gansley."

Gansley? Yami struggled to think clearly. Why did that name sound familiar? He took a deep breath, relieved to feel the panic receding. It wouldn't do to let anyone see him in such a state. That was one thing his long-standing rivalry with Seto had taught him unequivocally: never show weakness to anyone.

His emotions back under control, he assumed a composed expression and hit a button on the desk top to unlock the doors. In a far steadier voice, he said, "Send him in."

"Yes, sir."

A moment later, the door opened and Gansley entered the office. Seeing him, Yami remembered where he had seen the man's name -- in the overview of the department. Gansley had been head of the department before Yami's elevation to the post. That meant that Gansley had been relegated to a lesser position within the department. Judging by the man's insincere manner and smarmy smile, Yami rather doubted that Gansley was taking his demotion in stride.

"Mr. Kaiba," Gansley said, bowing. "It is an honor to meet you, sir."

Somehow, Yami doubted that. He forced a polite nod, anyway. "I am looking forward to working with all of you in the enhanced mecha division."

"It's good of you to say so, sir." Gansley, a stocky, overweight man in his early fifties, looked as if he had swallowed something sour. "If there is anything I can do to help you in any way…"

"I'll be sure to let you know." Yami studied the other man narrowly. Gansley was doing a poor job of disguising the enmity beneath his obsequiousness. "Don't let me keep you, Mr. Gansley. I'm certain you have plenty of work that requires your attention."

Gansley stiffened. "Of course. Well, I'll -- "

At that moment, the intercom buzzed again. "Sir, Mr. Rafael is here to escort you to the press conference."

"I'll be right out," Yami said into the microphone pick-up, then switched the machine off. He glanced at Gansley. "I intend to inspect the labs and other departments, Mr. Gansley. I'm sure we will be seeing one another again, soon."

"Of course, sir." Gansley bowed politely, as he was herded out the door. "I look forward to it."

Suuuure, you do, Yami thought. Almost as much as I look forward to this press conference.

Forcing a pleasant expression onto his face, Yami dismissed Gansley from his thoughts. Rafael met him with a respectful bow and, at a nod from Yami, turned to lead him to where the cameras (and his father) awaited.

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Domino City
Arcadia Planitia
Kaiba Corporation Colony, Mars

Yugi had made it back to the shop without further incident. Now, his grandpa was upstairs in the apartment kitchen brewing himself a fresh pot of Sumatran roast, and Yugi was minding the store. Since there were no customers in the shop at the moment, he decided to use the opportunity to continue his interrupted web search. He pulled up a new search box and keyed in Yami's name. A few seconds later, he stared in surprise (and a bit of dismay) at the results. There were… a lot of them.

In addition to news articles, there were fan sites with photos and facts gleaned from official sources. There were more than a few fan sites with some rather… interesting artwork. After staring wide-eyed at a particularly realistic painting of Yami wearing nothing but a smile, Yugi bookmarked a couple of those sites for later perusal.

Deciding to concentrate on the news sites for now, he flipped back a couple of screens to an article he had spotted earlier. It was an announcement from two years ago about the successful first mission of the newly-formed Duel Mecha squadron of the SSDF and featured brief profiles of each of the new pilots. Yugi followed the link to a close-up photo of a smiling Yami in an SSDF flightsuit. Reading the information beneath the picture, Yugi learned that Captain Yami Kaiba, pilot of the Dark Magician Duel Mech, had been born on Earth to Kazuki Kaiba and Amelia Emerson-Kaiba twenty-five years ago, that he had earned an MBA from the University of Tokyo, and that he was a two time winner of the International Mecha Sports Cup.

Yugi sat back from the computer. Not only was Yami heir to the Kaiba fortune, he was a member of the SSDF, a mech pilot. So what had he been doing cruising around in a Martian thunderstorm and running over unsuspecting game shop employees?

Even as he pondered the perplexing question, a tiny smile quirked the corners of Yugi's mouth. He remembered their friendly bantering during the duel, the way Yami had smiled at him over a particularly good move. He recalled how easily Yami had managed to sneak up on him, and the smile turned into a fleeting grin. Then he remembered what had happened in the kitchen, when he had slipped on the step-ladder and Yami had caught him…

He was a little breathless from the fright of his close call…and the nearness of the other man. His cheeks felt hot and his body tingled where Yami's strong arms wrapped around him. To cover his embarrassment, Yugi flashed a cheeky grin and said, "We have to stop meeting like this. People will talk."

Yami righted him, set him back on his feet, and smirked. "Then let's give them something to talk about," he said.

And kissed him.

Yugi froze. Yami's lips were warm where they brushed lightly against his, a soft butterfly kiss that left him even more breathless… and thoroughly confused. He stared up into brown eyes as seemingly startled as his own, as if Yami had surprised himself by his actions as much as he had Yugi.

Yugi shook himself, finding enough presence of mind to close his search window as the shop door opened to admit a new customer. He pasted a welcoming smile on his face and tried to concentrate on customer service. But his mind kept drifting back to the intoxicating caress of calloused fingers and silken lips.