Subtly, Almost Imperceptibly, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

--Subtly, almost imperceptibly --

--Sakura Takanouchi--

Tag: If it's not real, how can it feel love?

Summary: How well can you really know someone, and how far would you go for someone who didn't even know you at all? Furthermore, if you're not real, can you even feel love? …And they say Gargoyles are creatures of darkness… Revolutionshipping and Azureshipping. AU

Warnings: Pairings above, AU… Come on, Yami's a gargoyle here!

Author's Note: Well, this is… unprecedented, to say the least. This is the first piece that I've written in this fandom that's not Silentshipping. And that's only because when I tossed around the idea of having a 'living' gargoyle fall in love with a human, other characters just naturally jumped into these roles. Hopefully the tone and timbre of this piece take on a new direction for my work; this is definitely the most mature piece I believe I've written. I'm playing around with the concept of fluid time/unreliable narration here, too, so don't read the way Yami views time (or anything, for that matter) too literally (because he literally has all of it he wants). I think that this story is pretty unique, and hope that you enjoy reading it!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh! Just the plot.

The bell tower in the ancient library still worked, despite the wear and tear of its age. It was a gothic building, rare but not unprecedented in the city of Domino (some people thought it an architect's practical joke) complete with tall spires, ornate windows with panes of decorated glass, and the intricate detailing that only a master craftsman would impart on so lonely a building. It looked out over a square, a green commons always bustling with activity. As one of the tallest buildings, from the top of a spire one could see everything that takes place in the city below.

'A new day, another new day. Ironic how one who cannot even close his eyes marks each passing day by the movements of the sun.' But he did it, because he knew that was how everyone else marked the time. Everyone was concerned about time, from the large dial in the park across the way to the smaller ones tied on everyone's wrists. And when the light from the sun disappeared, it was time for them to close their eyes and rest. Rest! He supposed he was resting, even though he couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't move a muscle. He was, literally, frozen in time.

It didn't bother him, really, that he couldn't move. He had the best view of the city, as far as he was concerned. He had tried to move before, of course. But nothing seemed to move him. Even the wind, where it floated down and ruffled coats and hair, did nothing to the pointed tips of his own hair. He was quite content with being an observer. He couldn't remember anything else.

Day was breaking over Domino. He could see the activity start to build. Men in suits marched promptly across the square to the tall buildings to his right, and young people of all ages wandered through the doors of his own building. He noted their age by the way they were dressed—no one, it seemed, deviated from that navy blue set of clothing. He wondered again what he was made of; hard as stone to withstand the wear and tear along with the library he perched above. He relaxed at the familiar routine unfolding in front of him, and watched the town at work. This was what he liked best, above all other things. 'I want everything to be remembered,' he repeated softly to himself. 'I want to show, that no matter how significant, that everything is important.'

-Winter:

Even though he himself didn't notice the weather, he noticed its effect on the people below. They donned heavier jackets and visible signs followed their breathing. He wondered if any of them knew how ridiculous they looked, scurrying around with patches of brightly colored fabrics around their ears.

He did not know why, but the children always seemed more cheerful during this time. Now that he thought about it, nearly everyone went around with a smile despite their many bulky layers. The children were always about, too, laughing and playing in the square. One such child was currently splashing some water out of the fountain—what a marvel that it was still running so late in the season—

And that was when he saw her. He doubted he would have seen her if not for the child's antics, splashing water on the many birds that had come to rest around the fountain. They took flight, instantaneously, and that was when he had caught sight of her. The birds were the steely-gray color of his own perch, but this girl truly embodied the essence of color. Figuratively, it was as if his eyes had just opened (for they really never closed).

She was staring into the rippling waters of the fountain, her azure blue eyes wide and wavering softly. She was not dressed in the manner of the smaller children, but instead wore a yellow sweater and denim under fuzzy leg warmers. She looked like a flower, swaying gently in the breeze. For several moments, all he did was watch her. She was watching her own reflection, through the rippling water. He wanted so desperately to reach out to her, unlike anything he had felt for anyone he had watched before. He wanted to ask her why she looked so sad, to talk to her and understand her, and most importantly, to see her laugh, and to know that he caused her to laugh. It was as if something inside his chest jumped, almost painfully and fiercely, the instant he caught sight of her. He knew it was important, he just didn't understand how.

He watched her for several minutes before remembering that he was supposed to watch everyone, not just this one girl. He was ashamed that he let himself get caught up in watching her. She was just one person—what was that compared to the thousands who crossed the square every day?

He saw her again that afternoon. He didn't mean to, he was simply scanning the grassy enclosure and his eyes rested upon her, sitting on a bench… she was not alone. Who was she with? He itched to know, but his head was turned away. The girl had a book propped open on her lap, she was talking to the boy next to her. Reading from it, he guessed. He strained to hear, knowing that it wasn't very polite of him to eavesdrop. He chuckled internally at the word.

"Jounouchi," the girl was saying (even her voice was melodious) "it's not that difficult. The velocity is simply the integral of the acceleration. And then the distance equation is the integral of the velocity."

"But Anzu," the boy (Jounouchi, what a strange name) answered, his voice higher pitched than he would have guessed, "what about finding the constants? That's where I always get stuck."

Anzu. Her name was Anzu. He supposed that it suited her, although he would have picked something more elegant sounding. He wondered what she was talking about, these "constants" and "integrals," until he realized just what was happening between her and her companion. She was teaching him. He relaxed at that, prepared to learn along with this Jounouchi.

"With each problem, you'll get a set of initial conditions. So when the time is zero, for example, the constants are set equal to the initial conditions. Especially if the object starts at the origin." She proceeded to draw something on a bunch of paper for him.

Even though he had no idea what Anzu was talking about, he was amazed at the way her voice made everything seem less difficult. He was mesmerized by the way she smiled when Jounouchi understood the material, or laughed when he made a joke (although he felt something sharp course through him at her last action).

"Hey, Anzu…Anzu? Are you ok?" The boy with the shaggy blond hair waved his hand frantically in front of his friend's face. "You were staring off into space."

"Sorry," she apologized, a light blush (or was it from the chill of the weather?) dusting her cheeks. "I just felt funny all of a sudden."

"Well, you looked funny," he quipped, laughing at his own joke.

"You know how you feel, when someone's watching you, but you don't know who, right?" She turned to look him in the eye. "That's what it felt like."

They both laughed, shrugging off the strange feelings to the weather. Talking of the time of year instantly cheered them both up as they packed up their belongings. Jounouchi left soon, with a hurried wave "goodbye," yet Anzu stayed in the square, walking around it, admiring the festive holiday lights strung up in the weeks before.

'She is like me,' he realized, 'an observer, someone who appreciates the inherent beauty of this square.' He wished she could see what it looked like from his vantage point. He watched her watching others, watching him without either of them realizing it, and he wondered what she would say if she knew. So he invented them, conversations where Anzu would tell him all about herself in that sweet voice. As he watched her, those many times that she frequented the square as if pulled by some invisible magnetic force, he imagined discovering new things about her; when she stopped to admire a flower (one of those rare ones which blooms in winter) he imagined her telling him it was her favorite. Every time he saw her cross the square, he invented new things for them to talk about. It became only a matter of time when he fervently believed that he knew her better than she even knew herself. He predicted her actions and reactions with glee, and when she turned to go, back to her house, he asked her to stay. With a giggle and a soft-hearted smile Anzu watched the square with him, stayed until the stars rose in the skies and she pointed out that of all the times, this was what she liked best.

-Spring:

It was funny; he didn't even recognize the change in scenery until a butterfly landed right on his nose. It seemed like nature was forcing him to pay attention. So he didn't disappoint. The trees (they still seemed so small from where he was) were covered in blossoms, mostly pink and red. Bushes and shrubs around the grassy square burst with flowers, and the fountain was running again, providing a soft percussion to the heartbeat of the square. The world had never felt so green.

A singular blossom moved too rapidly to be one. Anzu was back. 'When had she left? How had she escaped my notice for so long?' If he could, he would have flushed scarlet with shame, and hid amongst the flowers from her. He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts and watching the flowers open themselves to the human eye that he had forgotten her entirely.

But she seemed to be doing the exact same thing.

Without a glance to anyone else, Anzu's attentions were focused solely upon the beautiful offerings of nature around them. She delighted in using most of the senses; touching every flower and bringing it close to her face to grace it with her smile. She even lay there, right on the grass, and watched the sky (he never concerned himself with the sky. People couldn't exist in the sky, so he never took the time to actually watch it like she was doing). Concentrating fully on vicariously feeling the pleasure she received from the world, he never stopped to marvel at how alike they were. He wondered where she had been the whole time (if, at all she had ever left), and whether she would come back to watch the cherry blossoms fall. He always thought that although the fall was inevitable, it was still sad how something so beautiful and precious could also be so ephemeral. 'Anzu would certainly share the same opinion,' he mused. He was beginning (for he never could, now) to regret ever having seen her, for every moment he was consumed in her presence, wishing fervently that she could know him as completely as he believed he knew her.

'What was this? Who is she talking to?' He never saw her even notice this person before. How distinguished he looked! How dangerous he appeared. He thought he recognized him, from somewhere…

They were arguing, that much was for sure. He couldn't quite make out what was being said, but he clearly saw his Anzu's face, distorted with pain and anger in a way he would rip his heart out to never have to see again. He fumed with anger; 'why was her hand on his arm? How dare he push her aside!' From the moment he laid eyes on the man, he hated him. He was glad to watch him walk away, shoulders high, shiny metallic briefcase in hand. He disappeared under the brightly colored awning of the tall building directly to his right; his body relaxed but he still glared at the building for housing such an occupant. It seemed so… unnatural, especially compared to his own residence (but of course, nothing could compare). Everything was just too… smooth. Devoid completely of texture or substance. Shiny letters spelling 'KC' glinted off the mid-afternoon sun, like a last laugh of sorts from its occupant. Through all this, he seethed with rage.

Anzu was alone; he was the only one watching her, protecting her. She looked around, as if expecting someone she knew (if only she knew) before disappearing into the building upon which he kept his silent watch.

-Summer:

He decided that summer that he hated those dark panes of glass the people put on their faces. It became impossible to see their expression. Her expression. Not like he saw much of her anymore, anyways. Whenever his Anzu did appear in the square, she was always rushing through, never bothering to stop and admire the flowers as she once had. No, she barely looked at anything before continuing on to the tower; that tower. The one with the foreboding letters 'KC' too big to miss, and the tower which housed that despicable man. 'How dare he!' He wanted to shout (how abominable not to have a voice at times like this); 'How dare he keep her from the square!' He knew that she didn't, couldn't enjoy his company. Every time he saw them together (rarely; only at the breaking end of the day, when hardly anyone else was in the square), they inevitably started to argue. Their harsh words chipped away at the beauty of the square, at everything that held the square together, at him. The sun woke him early, now, and he wished it wouldn't. 'Anzu, why are you doing this to me?'

But this time, she didn't answer. Not even to him (for him), she was too busy spending her time with that man she called 'Seto.' He couldn't understand what made her choose the brown-haired man with no smile above him—but then she never knew him. How he wished that she could revert back to his Anzu that he knew so well. It was that man's fault—he was the one changing her.

Never had his attention been so focused on anything before than those two. And his theory was confirmed the first time he saw her in the green with that chain around her neck.

Never before had he been consumed with this much fury, this much passion. That silver chain (however small) was a sure sign of dominance…right? 'Criminals wore chains around their hands, so this must be something similar!' His eyes were drawn to the defiantly (annoyingly, cheerfully) sparkling pendant at the end of it. The letters 'KC' in miniature, the same color as the chain, yet studded with clear sparkly stones. It looked expensive.

A small part of him was envious. In his mind's eye he had presented her with gifts (much finer) and her reaction was always the same—that dazzling smile, her eyes shining in happiness, and the words, softly whispered, "thank you." It was his most fervent wish. But no, instead, this 'Seto' got to be the one his Anzu bestowed her affections, her smiles, and her "thank you's." As they embraced, he wished (for the first time) that he had the power to close his eyes. It was not something he wanted to see. This time, he wanted to forget.

-Fall:

It was almost eerie how a change in the winds could make things go back to how they were. He barely saw the man with the briefcase except at the most extreme hours, but (his) Anzu was at the green all the time. She read there, (by herself) for long hours, and chatted with her friends, sitting on the benches and soaking up the sunshine. He had never really noticed (and it irritated him to realize it then) how many (all) of her friends were male. She was surrounded by them. He felt a flash of jealousy through his body momentarily, before focusing back onto the green. He envied them.

It was then that he wished (hoped, prayed) with all his might that there was something, anything he could do to get her to realize just how much she meant to him. He, who knew her, understood her, loved her— more than anyone else, and if only she could know, and then she could respond...

He has been watching the square for generations (since before it really was a square), and nothing had ever felt so powerful to him before. At that second, it felt like anything could happen. Then, for the first time, he was able to hear the dialogue of his Anzu and her friends, as if it was taking place mere meters in front of him. He was too surprised to do anything but listen.

"Now, I understand that you like books, Anzu, but why this library? It's so old and creepy-looking."

"Yeah, Anzu. Especially those gargoyles." Anzu sighed. Those two always had a way with words.

"It's a gothic building, and I think it's beautiful, just…misunderstood. Besides, I like to come here, to this area. It's… peaceful, in a way."

His heart soared; 'What was happening?'

"I still think they're creepy," Jounouchi's voice cut through the air sharply and distinctly. "I'd hate to be a gargoyle." He shuddered while the others laughed.

"Imagine, though… they almost look alive. Wouldn't it be cool if they were?" The others turned to look at the one speaking. He was new to the green, with a leather jacket and pointy brown hair separating him from the others. "What would you do if you were a gargoyle?"

"I dunno… fight crime?" Jounouchi's voice cracked, and they all laughed again. "I'll bet they could move, they just don't know how." He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can you believe this came up only a few nights ago? Shizuka came home with this book about mythical creatures that she got from the library—this library too, knowing you people and your reading."

"So wait… did you read it? I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff." Anzu giggled at her friends' banter.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." He feigned shock at their disbelieving expressions. "Anyways, she showed me the chapter about gargoyles. It was called 'Yami—as in creatures of darkness. Besides, I think it suits them. We've got a regular Yami up there on that rooftop!"

"Yami?" Anzu's lip curled, whether it was from distaste or consideration, he couldn't tell. "Is that his name?"

'I… I have a name? Is that my name? Darkness? Yami?'

"Why not?" Jounouchi said, his glance shifting upwards, straight upwards towards him. "I think that if this guy knew he could have a name, he'd want one. Everybody just wants to be recognized in some way. It's what makes them remembered."

As his friends looked on like he had just grown a second head, the silent guardian on the rooftop looked on, amazed at what he had just heard. 'This man, he…' Words failed him, for the first time. He could not describe the feelings that were coursing through him so strongly. What he had been doing, for as long as he always was, had been extended to… him. For as long as he had been watching, no one had ever seen him, had watched back. He had remembered them, not finally they were remembering him. He didn't know what to say.

'Yami…' It felt right to him, like he had found something that had been missing (but he had never realized it was missing). From that moment on, he had a name. He was named.

Yami didn't even stop to consider what was happening to him. He just watched the group disperse, calling out their farewells accompanied by a rather ridiculous wave of the arm, and went on their way. Except for her. Anzu was all he could see. She was still, staring up at the sun (almost right at him) until her eyes started to squint from the effort. She looked confused, lost again, much like she did earlier, when he was first learning all about her. Slowly she turned towards the 'KC' building, her feet refusing to yield. In his eyes (for he could see it in her eyes) she seemed torn, as if unsure whether to go in to that building, or to the one which he presided over, the one her feet pointed to. With a certain sadness in her eyes, Anzu turned away from the building (from him) and began to walk, resolutely, towards the shiny metal and glass doors of the other building. She could see her own reflection in the glass.

They all seem to realize it, but can do nothing to stop the events from taking place. The noise seemed deafening to Yami (because he had only just been able to hear), he was unable to place any words to it. He felt like his soul was being torn into pieces as he watched, horrified, as the giant letter 'K' ripped away from the building, which was at that time being used as leverage for a scaffolding of men cleaning the windows. The tower was all windows. The letter reflected across every surface.

Anzu stood, transfixed, as the letter hurtled down most of the building's height, right to her. Yami tried to scream at her, to make any noise he could, 'just move!' But she couldn't move. She was as immobile as he was (had always been). It wasn't until then, watching his life under the glass, that he fully realized at that moment his true self, and the limitations of being a prisoner in stone. Until he remembered Jounouchi's words. 'I can move. I must move.' Yami did not even stop to think or consider.

He just jumped.

Anzu looks up, her surprisingly calm reflection in the glass 'K' the last thing she was expecting to see. She had never thought it would end this way. She can do nothing but squint upwards with one eye, but instead of the letter falling on her; something comes hurtling from the direction of the library. Through her barely-opened eye she saw that it was a winged grey blur, colliding into the letter and diverting its path to the square where it cracked the cement in front of the building. It had fallen mere yards from Anzu. In his last act, Yami had saved her life.

She loses all grip on time after that. Both of her eyes were now opening fully; blinking, she looks down to make sure she was still in one piece. She is relatively unscathed, except for the marks on her palms where she had clenched her fists too tightly. Those closest to Anzu were asking her too loudly, "Are you ok?" but all she could think was 'am I?' She wasn't sure what to do. Something in her brain registers, 'you're safe,' and with the adrenaline now pumping freely through her veins, she feels altogether too warm. She shivers.

It takes a few moments for her to distinguish the cacophony of sounds around her. Someone must have called for the medics by now. People are swarming the area all around Anzu, and she looks around tearfully, searching for a familiar face, or something (anything) comforting. She moves slowly to the wrecked 'K,' noticing that there were grey pieces of stone scattered around her. It is broken and twisted beyond recognition—but one round piece catches her watery eye. It is completely unscathed, although the edges where it had broken away were jagged and rough. She picks it up to find a face, carefully and artistically etched into the stone. She studies it, that familiar feeling washing over her. She had experienced it all too often in the past year. It was tingly; she was somehow feeling like she was looking at a face she had known for a long time. For some reason, unknown to her, she begins to cry, mourning this (beautiful) face, and cannot stop the tears cascading down her face. Funny, how she didn't even cry until then, but now she couldn't stop. The flash of camera bulbs and the babble of a large crowd faintly registers to her, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she barely notices it. People were now looking up at where the 'K' had been, studying the damage for themselves. "Old buildings and new buildings have their problems," she hears someone muse, "Someone should check the safety of the foundation." She could see Seto run towards her, shouting her name, and she wonders briefly if he had seen everything from his own office suite. She pushes him away weakly, turning away to look somewhere between the grassy court and the library. It was empty. Had it ever been full?

Anzu continues to cry; the tears her own sign of gratitude and requiem for that lost soul. The words were so softly spoken that she wasn't even sure she had spoken them aloud. But he heard her. She was sure of it.

"Thank you, Yami."

The End.

Last words: I would like to thank everyone for reading this piece! Please let me know what you think of it… this is my first Revolution/Azureshipping, after all. Praise, concrit, questions, anything is greatly appreciated. If you enjoyed reading this, I hope you take the time to peruse my other works. Thanks again!

Love,

Sakura Takanouchi