A/N:

This is sadly not beta-read by the lovely Oralindie, due to RL problems. The proofreading was done by moi. I apologize in advance for it.

While I'm on that topic. Yeah, I know. I started another fic. And this one isn't even a crossover with HP like WotM. Sorry.

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Chapter Three: Asking

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Hermione paused for a moment and the furious scratching of her quill ceased, leaving the room silent. She faintly heard car doors slam. Closing her eyes, she attempted to return to her earlier state of mind. The spell she checked over had numerous flaws in it she knew, having already checked the equations for the magical flow movement and finding at least two negative points. However, every time she did the Arithmancy, she found a different reason.

Once again her concentration was shot as she heard a car slowing. A rumble signaled the garage door opening and she bolted out of her room like a cat faced with a bath. Coming down the stairs, she wrung her hands, and dashed back up to her room for the flier for the regional duelist tournament.

"We're home!"

She smiled at her dad, coming into the living room, and rolled an edge of the paper between her fingers, behind her back. She bit her lip.

"How was your day, Hermione?"

She shrugged and unconsciously smoothed the paper. "Fine. Yours?

"Fine," he offered smiling. "What do you have there?"

"Oh this?" She held it with feigned disinterest, careful to not let him see it too closely. "Just something I'm thinking about doing this weekend.

"Really now? And many books are you planning to buy there then?" He held a hand protective over the pocket with his wallet.

"Dad! Not everything I do revolves around books," she protested.

He favored her with a amused disbelieving glance.

"It's just this game thing. I was thinking about going. I can walk to the bus stop and go there." She fidgeted. It was just a game, nothing important. There was no reason to become worked up over it.

Her father began to flip through a magazine. "Sure, sounds fine with me."

She stared at him for a long moment not quite daring to believe her fortune. "Thanks," she faintly choked out. That was what she had been so nervous over? She went back to her room to organize her deck.

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The weekend had been something of a let down to put it mildly. She had woken at six, and had nervously messed with her deck, finding new combinations as she occasionally glanced guiltily at the pile of Arithmancy papers scattered over her desk and the magical abacus lying on top, her last calculation still not finished. At some point her mother called for her, telling her it was breakfast. At this point she realized she hadn't de-tangled her hair, let alone gotten dressed. The mad rush that followed to get out the door in time was a chaotic blur.

Two others showed up to the regional tournament.

One was a twelve year old who had apparently just learned how to play from his cousin. He was gangly, his clothes almost too small for him. Hermione guessed he had just gone through a growth spurt. His play was amateur at best.

The other was a kid, who was barely past her waist but eager and very knowledgeable of the rules and of his deck. However, it was almost no contest once it appeared she had the upper hand. He had quietly began to make careless mistakes and he looked at her like she had just bought the last candy bar. She winced as she set one of her monsters to wipe out his life points.

"It was a good game," she offered as she swept her deck off the mat and into it's holder. "One of my more difficult duels, to tell the truth."

"Really?" he asked miserably.

"Yes, I swear." She had swept him a curtsy despite having warn pants.

The dawning hope on his face made her glad that she hadn't told him that it was her second official duel. Then he giggled and bowed.

The woman running the tournament gave her a sheaf of papers as she looked over her deck, mentally forming a list of cards that had to go. She'd managed to over-whelm her deck again with to many magic cards.

"These are the registration forms for the UK National Duelist Tournament. You should fill most of them out now as they're rather confusing."

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The woman had been right. It was nine incomprehensible pages long, requiring multiple readings of many sentences and in a few cases a dictionary. She knew almost everything it asked her such as the more mundane home address and phone. But some of it became more esoteric, such as if she was vegan or not, or wether she had any religious obligations during the tournament, or the international finals, if she made it that far.

She was gratefully that it didn't ask for a school name.

It's was starting to get late when she handed the paperwork back to the woman.

"You should get the hotel reservations and tickets for the train in under a week by post," she said as she locked up the room.

Her parent's were ecstatic to hear that she had won, even with her protests of not even having a proper opponent to duel.

However, Hermione thought it was a mixed blessing at best. She was now dividing her attention between her research and her deck. She so desperately wanted to win, and while her regionals had been under-attended, Duel Monsters where one of the biggest trends in Ireland which would be send about a dozen entrants to the competition.

Receiving the the official looking letter, it finally hit her.

This game had captured her spirit and imagination and was not letting it go.

Hogwarts and the magical world were no longer enough. She couldn't find it in herself to cry or feel gladness. The only sound in her room that night was the harsh snap of paper being turned over and the click of her abacus. The cards that her idle hand filpped over fell silently.

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When Yugi had weary of the constant stream of letters arriving --invitations to tournaments or interview request-- he had made an announcement: he was going to participate in tournaments he wished to and rest assured, there was no need to relentlessly invite him to every last one. Despite this, not a week went by without yet another letter beseeching his presence. He hadn't thought much of it when after a quick consultation with Yami when he began to type what was almost becoming a form refusal letter to one of the latest world-wide competitions.

That had been before Kaiba had come pounding at his back door.

Yugi had started when he heard Kaiba calling his name, and was half way to the door before it began to shake with the impact of what could only be Kaiba hitting it. Yugi opened the door as quickly as he could hearing the stain of the wood, and was nearly knocked over by a briefcase.

Kaiba swept in, barely looking at him, and slammed the door shut with a quick about turn.

"Kaiba-kun?"

"Yugi... I need a you to do something for me." The words were in Kaiba's normal terse tone, but the pauses between words and the slight twitching of his eyebrows indicated nothing was normal.

Yuugi nodded, not willing to commit absolutely before knowing the terms, but willing to try.

"Enter the Global Tournament."

Yami swapped places with Yuugi, quickly. "If you wish, we may duel now."

"Mokuba's been kidnapped." Kaiba ground out through clenched teeth. His hands formed into fists and he began to pace in intent rage.

"And the kidnapper...?"

"Demands that I participate in the tournament. I will supposedly receive further instructions at the at the final level," Kaiba hissed.

"Was one of the other demands for me to d--"

Don't.

Aibou?

Don't ask him. He would have said so if it was. He's asking for help. It might sound like a demand, but he wants back-up.

"We'll duel."

It may have been a sign of Kaiba's turmoil that he didn't even give him a second glance at the plural pronoun.

"Fine. As you're a high-level duelist, the preliminary rounds are not necessary. The tournament will be held in Tokyo in a two weeks," Kaiba said as he pulled an envelope from his trench-coat. "Here's reservations for the hotel room your groupies will need. You'll be in the duelist block."

He's paying for them to come, other me. He's very serious. As much as he dislikes them, he is willing to tolerate them.

"I''ll inform you if the situation changes." Kaiba swept from the house.

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Yuugi met Jounochi that evening at the arcade. He didn't say anything as he led Jounochi over to a fighting game. It took several more rounds, before he began.

"Do you get an invitation to the Global Tournament?" he asked as he furiously jerked the joystick in a dodge maneuverer.

"Yeah?" Jounochi began to once more try to rain down blows on Yuugi's avatar.

"Take it."

"What?" Jounochi asked pulling himself out of the game, and staring at Yami.

Jounochi blinked, before taking the soul change in-stride.

"Mokuba's been kidnapped," Yami informed him as he ended the game.

"Again? Kaiba needs better bodyguards. I'm not bringing Shizuka." Jounochi accepted.

"Probably a good idea. "

It wasn't a secret that Seto Kaiba would do anything for his brother. And that he would do everything to protect him. Though Mokuba had bodyguards as well as the guards on the mansion grounds, there weren't many due to both of the Kaiba brothers independence. Thus, Mokuba begin almost kidnapped several times, should have been more then enough to convince Kaiba. But to hire more guards would be admitting a weakness, so he hadn't, being the son of a gun he was. At least that what Jounochi had theorized one day, ranting about Kaiba and his latest duel.

"That kid needs self defense lessons. Hell, I'll even teach him when we get him." Jounochi settled into a pensive silence, not willing to think about the ifs. "When is the Tournament?"

"Ahh, two weeks from Friday," Yami answered calmly.

"Mmm." Jounochi slouched against the console. "Any requirements?"

"We're both high enough levels of duelist to go straight in the roving challenge stage without going through the preliminaries."

That was probably the result of having competed in Battle City. Or getting into the finals of both it and Duelist Kingdom. Either way it was a very good thing; the first round had already come and gone.

"Two weeks?" Jounochi said somberly. "Kaiba is going to kill someone."

Yami did not disagree.

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