It may have been minutes, or hours, that he had wondered aimlessly, putting his feet in motion in the futile attempt to make his thoughts stop, forcing his taxed muscles to carry him for the pointless miles, for no other reason than it was far more distracting and safer than attempting the hopeless task of figuring out what he was doing here, what went so wrong, and how in the name of Ra he was supposed to navigate this strange world he was now residing in.

He was panting with exhaustion long after the gameshop faded from view, but he kept up his relentless march to nowhere down the shimmering pavement, heedless of the people that he dodged, oblivous to all the strange restless hoards that dashed about as if their very lives were only dictated by the instinct to run, run, run.

Was he a monster because of what had been done to him, or was it a freely chosen fate?

And if it was chosen, then what would fate have to do with any of it? And, was he that much of a monster? His decision to belt Seth...Seto, he corrected himself, hastily, was hardly a decision he thought about. He simply saw him standing there, his hated hands near Yugi, and struck him down as the instinctive rage drove him on. It was completely an alien sensation to be so full of drunken rage that he would actually lash out like that. And the thrill of power he felt when he saw Seto reel back from the blow, and look at him with so much fleeting fear...it scared him. He could sense himself changing in ways that he could not even begin to fathom, and he knew that the Puzzle, for all its mutilation of his thoughts, was not wholly responsibile for what he was becoming. Was it the passage of time, or how much pain he had endured? Was it the fact that he was really corrupted, or was it that he had been wounded and broken for so long that he had nothing left but the pain to dictate his actions?

He shivered with remorse when he remembered Solomon's kind reassurance, and Yugi's saintly tolerance, how they saw him hysterical, and too torn to even function, yet they didn't wound him any deeper, and both had tried to help him. He remembered Solomon's reassurance that he was family, and not just a tolerated burden, and he felt the loss anew, at how he had ruined his chances yet again with finding any footing in this place. No matter what sweet speech was made of forgiveness, Yami was sure that Solomon would be too fiercely protective of his grandson to allow a 5000 year old violent spirit to remain around him. And, finding no answers, and only impossible questions, Yami slid quietly to his knees, in exhaustion, and exhaled for a long, bitter moment.

With a scowl and a huff, Yami crossed his arms, and allowed himself to slip down onto a park bench. He finally noted where his wondering had taken his busy feet, and was quite mystified to see that the concrete had given way to more familiar vegetation, and even the few gently rolling hills of the large city park. Towering trees obscured the dizzying heights of the skyscrapers, a soft breeze through the emerald leaves drowned out the roar of the highways full of cars, and the flowing drip, and flash of silver drew his attention. The air here was quiet, peaceful, and inviting, as he heard the birdsong in the branches, and the small river that meandered so quietly through the small patch of woods.

It was dazzling to find this small area, so serene and sheltered away from all the chaos and the confusion of the life he had just left at the woodland's border. Yami allowed a smile as he saw the lulling current, the falling leaves making their dizzying arches over the path as the water carried them away. It was bittersweet, bringing back pleasant memories of his childhood, when he would sit on his father's knee on the high balcony and watch the Nile's languid water flowing out to eternity. Yami sighed, as he

lowered himself to the ground beside the bank, perching on a rock. He worked at the buckles on his boots, slipped them off, then dipped his feet into the water, relishing the

cool water soothing over his feet. It was the first moment of genuine peace he had had in a long, long time. It felt wonderful, and he did nothing for the next hour but

watch the water, and let his troubled thoughts flow free as the current that ran through his toes.

Yugi stared out the darkened window, his fingers drumming aimlessly at the desk, his anxious thoughts melting to fear, as he waited with fading hope for Yami's return.

How could he have been foolish as to let him wonder around Domino when he didn't understand any of the customs, or have any way of contacting Yugi if something

had happened. His thoughts grew even darker when he remembered the bright red of Kaiba's cheek, and that monsterous rage that had filled Yami's eyes in those

horrible moments before he regained his awareness of who he was. To actually have the nerve to even touch Seto Kaiba was extremely brave, in a perverse way.

Yugi was suprised that Kaiba had restrained himself, but wryly smiled at the thought that maybe Kaiba considered it to be beneith him, somehow. And Yami had

done what he did because of some horrible memory, to protect Yugi,..

To see the heart-breaking remorse as Yami stared at his bloodied fist, as if not understanding what he had just done, the breakdown in the living room where he and his grandfather had managed to piece the suffering Pharoah together enough to not completely collapse...

Yugi grew more and more worried as time slowly crawled by, and Yami did not appear. With a resolute sigh, Yugi rose, snatched up his blue jacket, zipped it up, and

started downstairs to go look for him.