"Yugi?"
"Hm?"
It was late afternoon, the sunlight's pattern on the floor of Yugi's bedroom indicating the hours ticking slowly towards early evening. Anzu tapped her pencil absentmindedly against the top of her chair, brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she tried to think of what else to add. The paper, a little crumpled in her hand, was covered in her neat script down to the halfway mark.
She wasn't sure how long they'd been there, her on the desk chair and Yugi on his bed, unfinished essays out with hardly any progress. The minute she'd come in, they'd gotten caught up in conversation over the dance lessons she was looking into, which had led to a debate about the merits of one teacher over a certain one who had also happened to be related to a world-famous video game creator. Their papers might as well have been invisible until the talk had died down in their mutual attempt to concentrate, into some silence that she'd broken now.
Anzu finally put her pencil down on the desk. "Do you have any idea what else we're supposed to add? I don't think Mr. Nakamura got this far."
"No," Yugi replied resignedly. He rolled over from where he'd been lying on his bedspread, flopping onto his stomach and bringing his paper down with him. "Now that I think about it, I'm not sure he knew what he was talking about when he assigned this. Penguins live in Antarctica, not Australia."
"Yeah." Anzu looked over her essay for what had to be the hundredth time that day, scrutinizing it. It looked fine so far, as much as she could tell. Not award-worthy, but decent enough for the teacher's standards. "Want to take a break?"
"Sure, why not?" Yugi glanced at the clock. "It's been almost two hours, anyway. Is there anything you want to do?"
Anzu paused to ponder that, and then gave a shrug. "Anything's fine for now. I'm just glad I finished that other big report for Ms. Chono."
She and Yugi then chose that moment to share a look and a shudder.
"Maybe that's why this essay doesn't make sense," Yugi joked in a mockingly whisper-like voice, cupping his hand around his mouth for emphasis as if passing on a terrible secret. "He was too busy anticipating a 'marriage interview' with her."
"Pfft." Anzu blew air from her mouth, shaking her head as she tried to stifle a giggle. "You don't think he's that deluded, do you?"
"Well, not 'deluded'," Yugi conceded with a small grin. "But really, really hopeful. Which is admirable."
"Come on," Anzu scoffed, though she returned the smile. "Anyone who wants a chance with that kind of woman is pathetic, not admirable."
"Depends on what you think 'pathetic' means," Yugi ribbed. He propped his chin up on top of his palms, elbows out and feet crossed over in the air. "Does being persistent about something that seems hopeless make you pathetic? Because that might say something about me with the Puzzle."
"Yugi!" Anzu let out a mock-scandalized gasp, reaching to smack him lightly on the shoulder. He could only laugh in response, arm nearly giving out from under his head. "Calling yourself pathetic? Why, I should penalize you! It's a crime, you know, to put yourself down like that," she teasingly scolded, wagging a reproving finger at him.
He tucked his arm back up again, shaking slightly as he muffled more small snickers behind his hand. "Oh, I guess I'm really in trouble now," he shot back teasingly. "But I did say it only seems hopeless, at first." He held up the Puzzle, still looped around his neck on the cord, for emphasis.
Anzu wiped the corner of her eye as her own laughter gradually ceased, though she was still smiling. "That's true," she conceded, but her tone took on a serious note when she continued. "Really, though, Yugi...don't say that about yourself. You're better than that. You finished the Puzzle after a lot of hard work—that's something, isn't it?"
At that, Yugi cracked a weak smile. Of course, Anzu would say that, never having let him put himself down when she was around. "Yeah, I know." He touched his fingertip to the cord running through the Puzzle's top. "I still can't believe it's really done, but I think it granted my wish."
"Really?" Now Anzu put on an expression as if in deep thought, hand against her chin. "Hmm. You didn't wish to get rich, did you?" she asked, a playful glint in her eye. "Or maybe a car? New shoes?"
"Hey, my shoes are just fine," Yugi protested sheepishly, kicking one leg out to emphasize his point. Anzu pretended to duck. "But a car would be nice. I didn't wish for any of those, though, so you'll have to try again."
"Oh, so now this is a guessing game?" the brunette asked, amused.
"You made the suggestions," Yugi pointed out.
"Fair enough," Anzu conceded, leaning back against the desk. "I just hope your Puzzle isn't one of those things that twist wishes to be literal and mess everything up. Like that saying goes...'be careful what you wish for', wasn't it?"
"Mm." By this point, Yugi was only half-listening, gaze fixed on the pyramid as it lay on one side on the blankets with its eye facing him. He couldn't help noticing the way a particular corner gleamed and how the cracks and grooves between the connected pieces ran together like lines in a spider web, twisting and turning. "Yeah. But I don't think this will do that..."
"Really?" With anyone else, the word would have sounded skeptical, but Anzu was more curious than anything. "What makes you say that?"
That was enough to get Yugi's attention back. He glanced up almost immediately in response, faltering once he wasn't focused on the Puzzle. Now that he thought about it, Anzu had a point. What had compelled him to say that?
He didn't know how to put it in words, not now. If he tried to explain, Anzu probably wouldn't get even a quarter of the idea. But it felt, almost, as if the Puzzle was trying to...communicate with him, somehow. Sometimes he picked up on little things, snippets of emotion that felt out of place with his in a way that could be compared to someone transplanting another person's feelings into his own. They were often random and came completely out of nowhere, such as more frustration than usual when he tried to focus on a particularly difficult bit of schoolwork. The Puzzle seemed to alternate between hot and cold constantly that always, strangely enough, corresponded with his moods and thoughts—warm when he was happy or angry, cool when neutral.
All of that, over the past few days, felt far too complicated and a little contrived to explain without sounding delusional or over-imaginative, neither of which Yugi was. Well, alright, he could be over-imaginative, but that wasn't the point.
"'...Just a feeling," he replied lamely. "One of those things you can't really explain, you know?"
As he spoke, he instinctively thumbed a corner of the Puzzle. But with his gaze on Anzu as she decided to change the subject, he failed to see the dim glow from the Puzzle's eye in response.
"Hey! Yugi!"
Yugi started, still in a half-doze. He glanced wildly around, shaking his head slightly until he saw who it was. Almost at once, he no longer felt that tired. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, smiling as he waved back at Jounouchi, who was practically running to catch up with him.
"So," Jounouchi huffed as he slowed to a walk next to him, "did you see it?"
"What?" It took a second before Yugi realized what he was talking about, and his face heated up. "Oh. Uh—"
"I couldn't see any of the important stuff," Jounouchi went on. He squinted, holding up his forefinger and thumb with a small gap in between them near his eyes for emphasis. "Even when I squinted! The stupid mosaic kept getting in the way..."
It was at that second in which Yugi wondered exactly why he'd thought swapping porn tapes after school with Jounouchi was a good idea. It'd seemed sensible yesterday, but now he wasn't so sure. He'd just been relieved at the time he finally had someone to talk about the thing without feeling embarrassed or awkward.
"Don't worry, though!" Jounouchi lowered his fingers just as quickly, flashing him a grin. "I think I might have another version of it lying around somewhere. I'll lend it to you sometime!"
...And then that doubt flew out the window. "R-really?" At this point, Yugi was sure the color of his face would be able to put every shade of red imaginable to shame. "I mean—yeah! Sure!"
"You have to wonder why the mosaic's even there on that copy, though." Jounouchi put on a particular expression, as if he meant to have an inner monologue but was voicing it instead. "What's the point if you already know what's..."
His voice slowly died and he came to a stop, eyes widening as he started to gawk at something over Yugi's head. Confused, Yugi turned around, only to end up gawking himself.
Just a few feet away, a van was parked outside the school gates. In this case, the van was the kind that was used for filming and transporting camera equipment, an overwhelming sight that looked terribly out of place near such an ordinary school. It was a stark white to the point of appearing almost pure in the sunshine of the morning, offset only by the bold black lettering of ZTV marking the side.
Yugi wasn't sure how much time had passed before Jounouchi finally broke the silence. "Look at that!" He pointed, his voice torn between sounding disbelieving or excited. "It's a real television van! A television van, Yugi! At school!"
He paused, pondering aloud. "Though...why's it here? Of all places?"
"Wow..." Yugi breathed, awestruck. The sight of the thing alone was enough to set his imagination off—stars and idols came to mind, smiling brilliantly into flashing cameras and posing on sleek magazine covers, pens out for autographs. "Maybe there's an idol visiting! Or...they could be reporting news about something."
"Like what?" Jounouchi continued to goggle at the van, craning his head at various angles to get as thorough a view of it as possible. "Nothing happens here, unless you count Ushio with his leaves—hey, hold on! Yugi, what—"
The rest of his words might as well not have been spoken for all the effect they had on Yugi. "I'm just going to take a look!" he called back over his shoulder, setting off at a quick walk to the van. When he reached out to touch the side, as if still wanting to check that it was indeed real and not some wild hallucination, the metal was cool under his fingertips.
He stood up on his toes, heels lifted off the pavement as he tried to straighten up to see in through the window. But once his head was level with it, all that was in the glass was his own face with no indication of what lay behind it.
"That's weird." Yugi pressed both hands to the window, raising himself up a little higher. His cheek brushed against the glass as he moved.
"What's in there?" Jounouchi asked from behind. "See anyone?"
"No," Yugi admitted. He leaned in, bangs flattening as his forehead touched the glass. "I can't see anything. I think it's a one-way window!"
He continued trying and failing to peer in, sometimes teetering in his attempt to stay perfectly upright, with Jounouchi looking on in curiosity. Neither could notice exactly who was on the other side—it would be all the worse for them, and all the better for the other.
In the van, lounged in the driver's seat, Director Ryuto* sat back with a groan. The stack of papers rustled as he set it down, hand coming up to rake through the greasy black hair under his backwards-facing baseball cap.
The big suits at the network really didn't pay him enough for this job. His newest project was a documentary on violence to be aired on the show Survival Morning, as requested by the viewers. He'd been more than happy to pick it up in the first place, but after an entire morning on the first scheduled day of filming failing to find a star for it, he was starting to reconsider the idea.
Honestly, it was so frustrating. He'd specifically chosen Domino High for the documentary's setting because of its infamy in certain circles for its school board's habit of turning a blind eye towards the rampant bullying and harassment problems in the student population. Yet none of the numerous students he'd seen passing through by the van, which had been parked here for the purpose of staking out to find the star, fit the bill for who he needed. They were either too tall, too good-looking, too sociable—too normal.
It wasn't all bad, considering that an attractive senior girl passed by occasionally and left him free to ogle her figure with no worry of her seeing him. But otherwise, it was just a bore.
Maybe he should have gone with another project. A documentary about school violence couldn't be the only thing the viewers wanted, right? Why they wanted something as boring as that in the first place was beyond him.
Not a moment too soon, he heard movement outside. He started, sitting up as he adjusted his cap. Someone was talking, right next to the window—no, two someones. Both boys, from what he could tell, and too young to be men but too old to be children. More high school students.
Curious, he glanced to his left and to the window, only to nearly jump out of his skin at the sight. Pressed flat against the glass were the hands and face of a boy—short enough to be mistaken for a child if not for the collar of the Domino High boys' uniform, with ridiculously spiky hair and huge eyes. He was mouthing something to the tall blond behind him, talking about not being able to see anything, a one-way window—but Ryuto hardly listened to any of it. All he could hear was the reporter's voice over a bullying montage, narrating the plight of the poor little boy right outside his van.
He cracked a wide grin, bushy eyebrows scrunching together as he took out his camera to snap a photo for reference. "I've finally found him," he chuckled lowly to himself. "The star of the project."
"Good morning, everyone! Here we are, at the scene for your weekly broadcast of Survival Morning!" The camera was rolling, recording the film as the reporter spoke. She held her microphone in one perfectly manicured hand, gesturing behind her to the school gates with the other. Class would have long since begun by now, leaving all staff and students within the building oblivious to what was taking place on the property.
She delicately brushed a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear before she continued, voice high and light. "Today, the camera's getting our most exclusive scoop yet! Get ready to relive your old school days!"
Ryuto watched her as she spoke. He tapped the rolled-up documentary script against his chin, leering at the reporter whenever she moved enough for her suit jacket to open slightly over her chest and making occasional gestures to the cameraman, but not doing much else. The most important part of the piece had yet to come.
"Cut! Alright, wrap it up!" he finally shouted, clapping the script against his palm. "After this, the report'll be at the 'bullying scene'! Break!"
As the camera was turned off and the reporter, job done, went to put her microphone away, he leaned back to recline in his director's chair. He mulled his plan over, pausing to run it through his head again before he made his decision.
"Hey! You, assistant director, come here!" he shouted.
Not even a minute passed before said assistant director, Fujita, came running up, slightly out of breath. Unlike Ryuto, he was a young man who could pass as a senior teen, with a martial artist's headband encircling his head beneath dull brown hair and a fairly bulky build. He was new on the job, which was good for Ryuto. Newbies never knew what they were getting into until it was too late.
"Yes, sir?" Fujita asked.
Ryuto took out the photo, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he handed it over. "Find the kid in this picture," he ordered. "Bring him here in any way you can. I need him to star in the documentary, pronto!"
Fujita raised his eyebrows as he accepted the photo. Looking at it, however, was enough for him to have to stifle a snicker. "Wow," he choked out, unable to keep down a grin. "Yeah, this kid looks like the star, alright..."
"Exactly." The director snapped his fingers. "Perfect for the project! All you have to do is beat him up at the designated spot, and we'll get it all on camera, just like that. The network'll have to be happy with the ratings—they wanted a documentary on violence, so they're getting it."
The grin slid almost immediately off of Fujita's face, being replaced just as quickly by a slight frown. He pursed his lips. "Beat him up?" he echoed skeptically. "Is it really fine to just film people getting beaten up?"
Ryuto scoffed. "You don't get it, do you? How long have you been in this business?"
Now Fujita looked sheepish. "Well...uh, half a year," he mumbled.
"Not even a year?" Ryuto threw his head back and laughed, the sound akin to a cackle. Thankfully for the awkwardly standing Fujita, it only lasted a few seconds before the director ceased. He leaned forward in his chair, pointing an index finger at the younger man.
"I see," he said lowly, grinning widely. "You need someone to show you the ropes. I'll handle that. From now on, you can be my apprentice!"
Fujita did a double take. "Your—your what?"
"Apprentice, apprentice!" Ryuto repeated impatiently. He leaned further, further until his finger was practically prodding Fujita in the cheek, much to his obvious discomfort. "You'll be my apprentice! I'll teach you all you need about the network, the films. Now, your first task: you play the school bully for the camera!"
"What? An idol?" Anzu's voice was skeptical.
The bell had just rung, signaling the beginning of the lunch break. Around this time of day, Yugi usually stayed in the classroom with Anzu—or, it could be more accurately said, she stayed in the classroom with him. He didn't have a lot of options to work with if he went out like most of his other classmates, and almost all said options involved sports or physical activities that did nothing to help him about his height insecurity. There had been a few times Anzu had gone with the rest of the class, but otherwise, she preferred staying in, usually to get extra work done.
Now, it was different. Or it was going to be, anyway. Jounouchi certainly wasn't content with the idea of just staying in the classroom for the break, not when there could be an idol on the loose at Domino High.
"Exactly!" He sat back on top of the desk, elbow on top of his knee. "Why else would there be a television van parked at the gate? Come on, it's not like this happens every day! Yugi saw it, too, right, Yugi?"
Yugi only smiled sheepishly. "Yeah...he's right, Anzu. It was there."
"Well...yeah," Anzu conceded. "But if there really was an idol here, don't you think someone would have seen her? And I haven't heard anything about it all morning."
"Pfft!" Jounouchi scoffed. "Obviously, she's going undercover. She'll be in disguise as a student!"
"But why would an idol be here, anyway?" Anzu pondered. "Of all places..."
"Come on, do we have to know why?" Jounouchi protested. "The point is, she's here. I bet a lot of people would pay for a picture of her at this school. I'll find a way to unmask her for it!"
"Unmask?" Yugi laughed nervously. "Jounouchi, that's—"
"—stupid," Anzu finished dryly. "If there really is an idol here, then how're you going to pick her out from so many students?"
"I'll know her when I see her!" Jounouchi replied confidently. "You can just tell with their type."
"How would you know? You can't just ask her who she is!" Anzu retorted.
"Are you saying I can't figure out who someone is without them telling me?" Jounouchi argued.
As the two devolved into bickering, Yugi only sighed. Sometimes, he had to wonder if they would've tolerated each other's presence at all if it hadn't been for them both considering him a friend. Anzu may have adjusted to Jounouchi being around more quickly than expected, initial hostility notwithstanding, and vice versa, but that didn't mean they themselves were friends, did it?
However, he reflected, he could have said the same for him and Honda. He had stopped picking on Yugi and Jounouchi still hung out with him, but they hadn't individually spoken since the incident with Ushio.
"Yugi! You agree with me on this, right?" Jounouchi turned to him expectantly, cutting off the beginning of Anzu's would-be rant.
Yugi blinked. "What?"
"Don't listen to him, Yugi," Anzu groaned, moving a hand to massage her forehead. "I'm pretty sure what he's planning is illegal."
"There's nothing illegal about unmasking an undercover idol!" Jounouchi snapped.
"The way you're planning to probably is!" Anzu shot back.
They promptly resumed their arguing, complete with creative hand gestures and repeatedly overlapping sentences. Yugi only sighed and checked the clock. Still another hour before the end of the break. He could only hope the fighting didn't last the whole period, but given how the people involved were both stubborn and more than a little headstrong, it didn't seem too likely.
But Anzu has a point, he thought. Why would an idol be here? That television van's here for something, but what?
Almost half an hour later was all it took for Fujita to find himself walking out of the boys' locker room, his stride a little awkward in his "borrowed" uniform that felt a little too stiff for wear. He fumbled around in his pants pocket briefly before coming up with the photo he needed to find the star, holding it in two fingers.
He pulled the jacket more closely around his shoulders, grumbling under his breath. At this point, he was sure beyond a doubt that he'd never felt this stupid in his life. Sneaking into the school by taking a uniform and blending in with the crowd, trying to pass as a teenager, all for a documentary? If this was what always came with being an assistant director, he would find it an ideal chance to start thinking about other job opportunities.
The halls were empty as he made his way down, his footsteps echoing, and he frowned to himself. The position of the sun in the sky indicated noon, so it'd be lunch break. Students would be either eating in their classrooms or running around outside, leaving him free to look for the star without worry of being distracted by other teens or questioned by a teacher. But on the other hand, this meant it'd be harder to find the star in the photo—he could be in any of the classrooms or any spot outside.
New, chattering voices and footsteps sounded down the hall, and Fujita nearly jumped out of his skin in a cold sweat. When he looked up, it was a group of boys—five at most—heading through, the leader with a basketball in hand. One boy, brown hair up in some kind of forwards-facing spike, trailed along a little at the back as the only one not to add much to the conversation.
He tensed, frozen in mid-step as they moved closer, closer until they were passing by. They were too involved in talking about some girl that their leader hadn't called back to even spare him a passing glance, except the one with the spike. Much to Fujita's horror, the boy stopped and turned towards him.
"Hey, you okay?" the boy asked. His expression could best be summed up as a combination of confusion and concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Oh—uh, yes! I-I'm fine. Perfectly fine," Fujita found himself rambling. He gave himself a mental slap as soon as the words left his mouth—stop being stupid—just as the photo slipped from his fingers.
He caught it at the last second, nearly dropping the thing as he flipped it over in his hands. The boy raised his eyebrows.
"Erm—" Fujita seized on an impulsive strike of inspiration, turning the photo to face him completely. "Do you know who this is? I found this—this picture, see, and I've been looking for—"
He cut himself off to avoid rambling further and possibly, with his luck, blabbing about why he was really here. If the boy noticed, he didn't give any indication so, as he only regarded the photo with some mild interest.
"Oh, that's Yugi." His tone was neutral, but in the way that indicated that on the spectrum, he wasn't leaning towards the positive end. "From 1-B. He's in my class."
Without waiting for an answer or further questions, he resumed his walk after the group of boys, who were now rounding a corner into the next hall. Fujita blinked.
"Thanks!" he called, if only to say something as he stuffed the photo back into his pocket. The boy didn't turn around to respond, but Fujita didn't stick around to wait for one in the first place. With a glance at the signs above the classroom doors, he started to follow them.
"Yugi from 1-B, eh?" he muttered to himself as he went. "Can't be too hard finding that."
Now that he knew where to find the star, a certain problem was rearing its head: how on earth would he get him to the filming spot? He didn't have much time—it wouldn't be long before lunch break ended and all the students went back to class, staying in with their books and projects until it'd be well past the time the director wanted to get the documentary done.
He'd have to do it fast, Fujita decided. Behind the gym, most likely. Yes, that was it. He'd just lure the kid behind the gym, beat him up, and then he'd be done. The idea of being anywhere near Director Ryutoafter this was enough to make his skin crawl.
"I've really sunk low this time," he muttered to himself bitterly. "Do all assistant directors end up like this? I wonder..."
Lost in his thoughts and self-pity, he'd grown so used to the sound of footsteps passing him as he walked that he didn't even register the ones going by now as he looked for his designated classroom. At least, not until he heard a voice.
"Come on, Yugi!" It was followed by the thump of a clap against a back. "How about we go find that idol?"
The word shot through to Fujita and sent him crashing back down to earth. He stopped in mid-step, almost frozen with bated breath, as another voice answered—more timid, less loud and enthusiastic.
"Um...are you sure?" It was almost squeaky to the point that it could be likened to a child's.
"I've never been surer in my life!" Fujita finally found his breath, exhaling as he slowly turned towards the voices. A blond teen, tall and somewhat scruffy, was walking with someone. Specifically, the spiky-haired kid from the picture.
The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Now, if only he could get that kid away from the other one...
He watched, waiting for the right moment. The kid—Yugi, he reminded himself—looked naive enough to dupe into going with him, but he was sure that with the bigger one around, he wouldn't have a chance at it. Although Fujita wouldn't hesitate to use his fists when necessary, he wasn't in the mood right now for a struggle.
"I don't know, Jounouchi..." The hesitation was almost palpable. "What if Anzu's right? That van could be here for something else..."
"Oh, not you too!" the blond groaned loudly, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. "She's just a skeptic! You gotta have faith in this kind of thing, Yugi!"
"I'm not saying I don't, Jou—" Yugi began, but Jounouchi cut him off.
"Hmph! I'll prove it to you, then!" He pumped a fist into the air so abruptly that Yugi ended up knocked back to the side. "I bet you she's here somewhere. And I'll have pictures to sell!"
"Jounouchi—" Yugi started again.
"Bye!"
Not even a second later, Jounouchi was dashing off down the hall, spinning around a corner before disappearing from sight. Yugi could only watch him go, mouth slightly open as his face showed his struggle to understand what exactly had just happened.
Fujita stared after Jounouchi, a little surprised. That certainly had been easier than expected. Not that he was complaining.
He finally moved, though he might as well not have for all the notice Yugi took of him. His back was still turned, and Fujita could hear him talking a little to himself, sounding more confused than anything. He swore he heard a "but...you don't have a...camera..." in there somewhere.
Fujita cleared his throat. "Hey! Yugi!"
The reaction was immediate. Yugi jumped on the spot, whirling around so suddenly that the spikes of his hair seemed to flap back. He blinked in confusion as Fujita forced his face into a friendly grin—or at least an attempt at it. "Oh...um, hello," Yugi replied. "...Who are you?"
"My name's Fujita!" The assistant director declared. Before Yugi could get out so much as a "nice to meet you", he stole another glance at the clock from the corner of his eye before going on. If he wanted to keep his job, he had to hurry. "I'm a new student. And I heard you and your friend—you want to know more about that idol, right?"
At that, Yugi gave a sheepish smile. "Oh, yeah, that. Uh, I guess so, but I think it's Jounouchi who wants to really know—"
"Because I know she's here at this school," Fujita continued. His grin was starting to become a little strained, but he hoped it wasn't too noticeable. "Right now, actually!"
"...Really?" Yugi raised his eyebrows. He didn't look as excited as Fujita had hoped, but it was obvious he didn't think he was lying, either. Which was enough.
"Well, duh!" Fujita scoffed, as if the statement was as obvious as the grass being green. "In fact, I think you two would get along great! She really likes meeting new people, you know. We're pals, so I can introduce you!"
Maybe he was getting a little too carried away, but Fujita couldn't bring himself to care less. Lying through his teeth was better than losing his position—it was all he had now, even if it was under a slime ball like Ryuto. And, not surprisingly, Yugi's eyes were growing wider by the second with every word.
"Come on!" Fujita took advantage of the pause, which he took to mean just sheer speechlessness. "She's behind the gym. She'll be leaving soon, so if you want to see her, you'll have to hurry up!"
On that note, he turned and began to walk away. For the first time that day, he actually felt satisfied with himself to the point he couldn't help giving himself a mental pat on the back. It wasn't that hard, after all, to sucker the kid into the documentary.
He couldn't help but look back over his shoulder, if merely for one more thing. He could practically see the conflict written on Yugi's gaping face, the cogs moving in his brain as he thought his offer over, and he demonstrated a great show of self-restraint by not laughing at that moment.
"Oh, and be sure to come alone!" Fujita called. "She doesn't like meeting too many new people at once—it's from some bad experiences with fans. Really secretive. Hope you understand."
He kept up the grin as he spoke, the muscles in his face starting to ache at the corners from the effort of keeping it that way for longer than he would've liked. When he turned around the corner to disappear from sight, he finally gave in to laughing.
He made sure to muffle it behind his hand, of course.
Yugi still wasn't really sure what had exactly happened.
After Jounouchi and Anzu had ceased their arguing at last to agree to disagree and they'd all sat down to lunch, Jounouchi had only just swallowed the last of his rice before he'd invited Yugi to go with him outside and join the other guys in playing basketball. Yugi had tried to protest, explain that the team he joined usually lost and he wasn't really cut out for physical sports in general, let alone basketball, but Jounouchi had insisted on another try. He'd invited Anzu, too, but she'd declined with a complaint about the last time she'd joined the game, it'd turned out to only have been an excuse for the guys to look up the girls' skirts, and that she had Mr. Nakamura's essay to make some last-minute edits to anyway.
Yeah, maybe having an incredibly deep debate about the cons and pros of Broadway shows and forgetting about the essays until she'd had to leave hadn't been the best of ideas yesterday.
Then when they'd been walking, Jounouchi had sprung the "idol at the school" theory on him again, and that had ended with him running off in hot pursuit. Yugi was left wondering whether he'd actually prompted that, or Jounouchi had been planning to find the idol and the whole "go out to play basketball" thing had been a ruse to throw off Anzu's skepticism. Maybe he'd just said something wrong, like he did too often...
And now, some guy named Fujita he didn't recognize from any class—but he looked far older, maybe he was a senior?—had come up to him, claiming he knew the idol and she was, in fact, just behind the gym. It all sounded like something out of one of those corny teen dramas he and Anzu had always made fun of on movie nights.
Yugi was torn. It sounded too good to be true, and the timing was too perfect to be really believable. Wasn't it a bit awfully convenient that someone who knew the idol just happened to meet with him, right after he had been discussing said idol with Jounouchi? It could just be a practical joke to mess with him.
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. He wouldn't know if he didn't find out, did he?
Now he found himself wishing Jounouchi hadn't gone running off, or that Anzu had come with them. They would know what to do almost immediately, not just stand and dither in the hallway like he was at the moment.
A full minute must have passed before he made his decision and resolutely stepped forward. He'd just go and see. That couldn't do any harm, right?
After all, what was the worst that could happen?
It was amazing how well Yugi's feet knew the way to the gym when he was too lost in thought to actually notice where he was going. One minute, he had been inwardly debating whether or not to go, whether or not to find Jounouchi and bring him along if he decided to go, and why this sort of thing had to happen anyway.
And the next, he was approaching the corner around the back of the gym, pebbles from the asphalt grinding under his sneakers as he walked. Maybe it was just him, but he could hear voices—one of which sounded suspiciously like Fujita.
Something about the whole situation made him uneasy. "Fujita?" he called out. Immediately, the voices stopped. He thought he heard a hasty "Shh!", but he couldn't be sure. He didn't recognize it, that was for certain.
"Fujita?" he repeated. His voice wavered slightly as he turned around the corner, glancing in several directions. He managed a weak little smile. "I'm here..."
"Ah, Yugi!" He jumped—again—before seeing it was Fujita. Funnily enough, only Fujita. He was standing there, grinning so widely with his hands in his pockets that Yugi could count every one of his teeth from one glance alone.
"You're just in time," Fujita continued cheerfully. "I'm glad you turned up! I was a bit worried you'd be late."
Yugi looked around. The lot behind the gym was empty, save for the unattended weeds poking up in patches through the cracks in the asphalt and the bushes lining the back chain-link fence. There was, as far as he could tell, no one else but them.
His stomach gave a funny lurching sensation, one that he recognized as dreadfully similar to what he'd always felt right when he realized he was going to be bullied. "Fujita, if you don't mind me asking...where's the idol?" he asked. Something was clearly off about the situation.
"Oh! Right, the idol!" Fujita grinned even more widely, which did nothing to reassure his unease. "Yeah, about that. The truth is..."
But it only jumped when he leaned in, hand around his mouth as if passing a secret. The truth? Yugi had to wonder. What truth? What's he—
The thought was finished when Fujita's smile contorted into an ugly scowl and his arm snapped up in one fluid motion, the fist slamming across his jaw. Yugi barely registered the pain bursting through his face at the impact before it was followed up with a second hit, harder than the last. And another. And another.
Yugi couldn't even groan. All he could do was wobble slightly on his feet, blinking stars out of his eyes, as he mentally berated himself. He was officially stupid. So stupid. How could he not have seen it before? A guy just happened to know the idol and wanted him to come alone to meet them? Pathetic. He should have known better, given how many bullies in the past had tried similar tricks like this before. He was so pathetic...
He would've given himself a mental punch, too, if he could, but Fujita was doing enough of that for him in reality.
"Aha!" A man was shouting, practically cheering somewhere in the background, and Yugi only vaguely wondered who it could be before Fujita's fist launched into his nose. "Yes, that's it! Great! Keep it up! Be more flashy! More dramatic!"
"Moron." Fujita's voice sounded over the shouting, just before an additional hit came. He was breathing hard and heavily, almost as if he were the one being beaten. All that was keeping Yugi on his feet now was Fujita's fingers pulling him up by his hair, gripping around the roots tightly enough to leave bald patches if he yanked hard enough. "There's no idol. There never was!"
Yeah, I think I got the message, Yugi wanted to say, but his jaw felt too broken to move.
Another punch. This time, Yugi's knees gave way to fall, but Fujita caught him by the uniform collar and kept him up. Yugi saw his fist raised, ready for another hit, and he braced himself. How long was he going to keep this up? Yugi supposed he should be grateful. At least it was only at the face—
"HEY!"
The voice was akin to a douse of cold water. Fujita's fist faltered slightly. Yugi blinked owlishly, hardly breathing as he felt a bit of tentative hope slowly rise. Could it be...?
"You creep! What the hell are you doing?!" Jounouchi came leaping out of seemingly nowhere, a look of pure fury in his features. Yugi could have cried with relief at the sight. He also could have apologized profusely, begging forgiveness for being such an idiot to fall for Fujita's lies and requiring him coming to the rescue. He could have said a lot of things, but all that came out was a little half-groan, half-whimper of pain.
The blond skidded to a stop, pausing only to roughly shove Fujita to the side with one hand. Yugi nearly collapsed from the removal of the pressure at his chest, but Jounouchi easily caught him.
"Yugi!" He shook him, worry now taking over. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I—he—" Yugi winced, his mouth barely able to move without pain shooting up through his jaw. But Jounouchi didn't wait for him to finish, instead whirling on Fujita.
"You jerk, what were you doing to him?!" Jounouchi snarled. His hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar. "I'll kill you, do you hear me? Do you?!"
It was amazing, Yugi dimly reflected, how quickly the tables had turned. Now Fujita was shaking, sweat beading his face as he cowered under the weight of Jounouchi's glare. "I—I didn't want to hurt him!" he stuttered weakly. "I s-swear...please don't hit me...the director—he made me...!"
Jounouchi's glare wavered in confusion. He stared at him. "What? Director?"
"Alright, that's enough!" That voice again, Yugi thought dazedly. There was a rustling from the bushes before a man stepped out, large and square-shouldered with a backwards baseball cap over a shaggy black ponytail. He smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. "Good work, Fujita. I'll take over from here."
"Why..." Jounouchi's jaw set. His grip on Fujita's collar tightened, his knuckles starting to whiten, and Fujita whimpered. Yugi wanted to tell him to stop, to hold back because he wasn't worth that murderous anger on his face. "So it was you. You made him do this to Yugi!"
The director raised his eyebrow. "So what if I did?" he asked, an amused note in his tone. "I didn't do this for no reason, y'know."
"What good reason would you have for making someone beat up Yugi?!" Jounouchi spat. "You're—"
"Jounouchi." The name came out as a croak, and Yugi winced again, feeling the ache in his jaw increase. But it got Jounouchi's attention, snapping his glare at the director to concern for him, so he kept going. "I—I'm sorry...I wanted to see if there was an idol—I just—"
"Don't apologize!" Jounouchi interrupted sharply. "It's not your fault. Those creeps were just lying to you!"
Behind the man, some leaves parted to reveal a camera poking out, held up to the eye of an accompanying person. The director waved him off in irritation, however. "Hey, cut! We don't need to record this kind of teenage melodrama. It's a waste of film!"
He turned back to Jounouchi's responding scowl, demanding answers. With a roll of his eyes, he complied, using one finger to absentmindedly pick at his ear. "The reason? Well, we needed the role of a 'bullied child'. For the documentary, anyway. Yugi here was unlucky enough to be picked for it. Just a bad roll of the dice, really.."
He paused, before his face abruptly broke into a huge grin. "But now, thanks to him, we've got a great documentary! He's perfect for the viewers! They'll feel so sorry for him. You're the hero, Yugi. The hero of the broadcast!"
That did it. The look in Jounouchi's eyes was enough to tell Yugi that there'd be no way he could talk him out of this. "You—"
He dropped the pale and shaking Fujita, who stumbled back helplessly as his hand shot out again. He yanked the director forward by the front of his shirt, his other fist pulling back. "I'm gonna kill you, you son of a—"
"Ha!" The director snorted, his smirk only widening. He regarded Jounouchi's raised fist smugly, not even fazed. "Go ahead and hit me. But the cameraman'll get it all on tape!"
Jounouchi blinked. He turned, jumping in bewilderment as the cameraman moved behind him. "Wha—"
Ryuto's knee slammed upwards into his chest. With no time to react, Jounouchi could only let out a small gasp, a "gah" as his legs started to buckle, bending in on themselves from the impact. The director watched him impassively as, after a few long seconds, he pulled his knee back and the blond collapsed completely.
"Jounouchi!" Yugi cried. Getting hurt himself was one thing, but seeing his own friend get hurt because of him was another entirely. In that instant, he forgot everything—the pain in his face and how much everything in his head hurt and how he could barely stand, dropping all of it to get his feet to move. They carried him in a run, frantic and desperate, to Jounouchi's side.
He heard the director nearby, but faintly. "Do you finally get it?" he chuckled. "It's the power of the camera. You can do anything with it. You can make reality for it! The public can only see your faces through that, and you'll be held up just for them to pity! Ha!"
As he laughed, Jounouchi let out a low groan of pain. Yugi felt himself shaking as he knelt next to him, hands on his shoulders, never hating himself more than he had at that moment for being so useless to stop any of this. The sound of the director's laughter rang in his ears, making a hollow sound. His throat was so choked that he couldn't speak. That same feeling seemed to be spreading through his chest, numbing it over like ice under the increasingly warm Puzzle.
"But don't worry!" Ryuto turned away arrogantly, motioning briefly for the cameraman and Fujita to follow. They obeyed, scampering after him like dogs with tails between their legs. "Your faces will be blurred out with mosaics. Then they'll still see you, but they don't have to know it's you! Thanks for your help!"
Something was pounding through his head, pulsing like a heartbeat as he watched them leave. It grew louder, steadier and stronger.
He hurt Jounouchi…
There was a voice that came with it, or was it the voice that was the source itself?
He hurt my friend for trying to—protect me…
It sounded coldly calm, seething with a fury that was just aching to break to the surface. It sounded like him, it interspersed with his thoughts almost perfectly, but at the same time…
He hurt my friend—over a reality he set up on camera—a lie for ratings—
It was growing more and more unhinged, the words becoming increasingly scattered and random as the Puzzle began to burn, to glow.
A lie he was just lucky enough to get—
—because I happened to be—good enough for his role—
—of a helpless victim—
—helpless—
—a lie—
—he was just making a lie—
And then it was finalized, with a thought that he wasn't sure of, one that could have come from him or the voice or both because he didn't know anymore, none of it was making sense anymore—
Maybe he'd like to test that lie and play a game.
The final word was a hiss, breaking from the edges of his mind until it gave way to blackness and the Puzzle's heat burst.
"Seriously, how did this happen?"
"I told you—ow! Watch it!"
Jounouchi winced as Anzu prodded his chest with one finger, checking for bruises. He swatted her hand away irritably, nearly falling off of the desk he was perched on as he did so. "It's not that bad!"
"What happened?" Anzu asked again. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion as she regarded him, folding her arms across her chest. "Did you find the idol? What?"
"I—well, no," Jounouchi admitted reluctantly. At Anzu's expression, he immediately jumped to the defensive. "Hey, don't give me that look! There really could have been an idol! There might still be one, but that's not the point! See, there was this director—"
"A director?" the brunette repeated skeptically. "What's a director got to do with any of this?"
"It has everything to do with this!" Jounouchi snapped. "Yugi! Help me out here!"
"Yugi, what's he talking about?" Anzu demanded at the same time.
They both spun halfway around towards where Yugi had been standing just minutes earlier, having helped Jounouchi back to school. The lunch hour was nearly over when they'd returned, but they still had several minutes to spare before class. Somehow, they'd gotten all the way from the back of the gym to homeroom in what felt like seconds without even running.
Guilt had pricked insistently at Jounouchi the whole way as he'd walked, half-leaning on Yugi. He'd apologized for running off, that he must have sounded really stupid, although he really did think there might be an idol. But Yugi had never answered, hadn't even looked at him, and Jounouchi would've taken that as refusal of forgiveness if it hadn't been for him keeping his hand tightly on his shoulder to steady him in response.
Come to think of it, Yugi had been acting a little weird after the director had left. It could have just been his imagination running away with him again, but his hair had looked spikier, his eyes a little sharper. There'd just been some different air about him, something more self-assured than the Yugi he usually saw.
But, to his surprise, there was only empty space where Yugi had been.
Jounouchi and Anzu both gaped. After several painfully long moments, Jounouchi was the first to find his voice. "...Where'd he go?"
It was getting increasingly late at the studios of ZTV. The day had come and gone, making way for the night to fall and the late-time shows to air. Only several would be staying behind for the broadcast, leaving the majority to clear out through the parking lot and head home. Headlights flashed through the darkening air as various cars pulled out and turned onto the highway, rushing off in scattered droves.
"I really think it's your best work yet." The man's voice echoed around the indoor lot, bouncing off of the walls with the sound of footsteps around the cars. He regarded the director politely, adjusting his glasses as he headed on his way. "If this doesn't get you a promotion, I don't know what will. It's staggering!"
Ryuto snorted, unable to suppress a low laugh. "Aw, well, you know what they say," he replied smugly. "Give 'em bait and they'll always bite!"
"Yes, yes." His more formally dressed colleague took a glance at his wristwatch as he spoke, before raising a hand in farewell. "Thanks again. I'll see you in the morning, director. Good night."
"'Night." Ryuto didn't bother to watch him go, fumbling with his keys slightly as he pulled them out of his worn jean pocket. The other man's steps faded gradually until he heard a door slam shut, followed by tires screeching as a car moved out.
"Heh..." He grinned to himself, fingers curling around the main key as he began to insert it into the car door's keyhole. If he'd been able to get away with this, he could only imagine what else he could do. Altering reality for the camera made it all harmless in the end when it got in ratings. Fujita surely knew that now, as his new apprentice.
"Maybe we could get someone killed on camera," he muttered to himself. "Who cares what Fujita says? It's not technically illegal if we just catch it and we're not really involved. It's all about what the viewer wants, anyway..."
As he twisted the key, he noticed the car's attached rear-view mirror out of the corner of his eye. Something gold flashed in the glass before he fully saw what it was. "What—?!"
Behind him in the mirror was the kid from earlier, the star of his documentary. Yugi Mutou, wasn't it?
But what was he doing here?
In fact, was it even really him? Those eyes were too narrowed, the expression far too menacing for someone so small and weak. And he looked taller, almost, or maybe it was just the lack of the constant slouch in his shoulders. His arms were crossed over his chest, one pale hand clutching the upper arm. And his eyes...why were they now red?
He was smiling, like he had when he'd walked obliviously into the set-up. But that smile seemed to be a mockery of the previous one, now a brittle and teeth-baring line that belonged more on the face of a horror film villain than a high school student.
"I've* been waiting, director." Yugi's lips moved when he spoke, words steely, but the voice caught him off-guard. The effect was as if his voice had been swapped with a woman's, a woman of more class and confidence. And that pronoun—atashi? What guy with any sense of self-respect used such a girly word for himself? "Are you surprised to see me? I was out by the door for quite a while..."
"You're—you're that Yugi brat," Ryuto found himself stuttering in disbelief. But at the verbal reminder of who he was dealing with—the little kid—he felt anger surge up. "What the hell are you doing here, you stupid boy, it's the middle of the night! How'd you even get here?! Don't tell me you want an actor's payment!"
"An actor's payment?" If anything, Yugi's smile seemed to widen, which did nothing to settle the sweat starting to break out on his forehead. "No, no, you're sadly mistaken. I just...have my ways. And I'm afraid you have stumbled into the realm of my heart. Anyone who comes in must face me in a game, if they wish to leave."
"A game?" Ryuto's eyebrows shot up. What was with this kid? First meek and mild-mannered, ideal for a bullying victim, and now some effeminate creep who talked crap about hearts and games? If it hadn't been for the similar appearances, the shared hair—save for the new sticking-up strands of blond this one had—and that weird pyramid necklace they both had, he would have thought they were different people entirely.
"Yes." The new Yugi's hand dipped to his side in a fist, coming back up to open and reveal a single white-and-black die nestled on his palm. Ryuto's eyes widened slightly. When had that been there? "We'll use this to play. It'll be a...game of fate, you could say."
Pfft. A game of fate? Who did this boy think he was kidding? Ryuto's mouth contorted in a sneer, but he continued to listen. This might be good for some laughs. If only he had his cameraman with him to record this lunatic; that might pull in something worth getting out of this bullshit.
But, most irritatingly of all, he actually felt a little uneasy. Something was distinctly very much wrong about this whole set-up, and it wasn't just the premise of a stupid high school student coming up to him from nowhere to challenge him to a game in his own workplace. No, there was something far more to this—he just couldn't place his finger on what it exactly was.
"Here are the rules," Yugi went on. He held up the dice delicately between his thumb and forefinger, and Ryuto noticed, a little warily, how the top where the single ebony dot to represent "one" lay had two markings around it to make some kind of eye. "Once I roll the die, you roll as well. If you can get a lower number than mine, you win. If you get the same number, you still win."
"Hm." Ryuto pretended to take this in deep thought, mulling over whether or not it'd be worth it to call for security on the brat. He rubbed his goatee with one finger. "Let's say I agree. What do I get out of this if I win?"
Yugi rolled the die smoothly, over and over in his fingers. "If you win," he replied coolly, "then you may use me in future episodes and documentaries whenever you wish. You can even have me killed on camera, if you want."
Now that certainly got his attention. The director perked up, a slow smirk making its way onto his face. "Really, now?"
"Yes, really." Yugi regarded him, retaining that disturbing little smile, and that was enough to make his own falter somewhat. "But if I win, you get a Penalty Game by default. No negotiations or exceptions."
At that, Ryuto had to laugh. "A Penalty Game? What's that, your idea of a present?" he mocked. "This is stupid. How do you expect me to win with your set odds? Try changing the rules and maybe I'll reconsider, brat."
"Ah, pardon me, director." Yugi lifted the die, fingers opening. "But rules are rules, especially when it comes to fate. Now...let's begin."
The die fell through the air in a single drop, hitting the floor with a click. It rolled over as it landed, bouncing against the concrete with a steady clack-clack until it slowly, slowly came to a stop.
On the side that faced upwards were six dots.
"Ha!" Ryuto pointed a finger at the die, grinning in satisfaction. "Six! I automatically win! I don't even have to roll the die! Now, you're my personal TV star!"
But, to his discomfort, Yugi didn't look fazed at all—not even having the grace to look a little shocked at how quickly he'd lost. If anything, he seemed entertained, as if the director were some silly dog chasing its own tail. "You're very lucky," he agreed, and why did he sound so much like a woman? "But the game's not over yet. It won't hurt to take your turn anyway."
Ryuto's teeth gritted together in annoyance. That stubborn brat. Couldn't he just accept he'd lost? There was no point in playing this dumb excuse for a game any further. This would have all been a waste of time if not for Yugi's agreement, and even then.
He grabbed the die up, nearly crushing it in his grip. "Fine! Then I guess while I'm at it, I can just leave a hole in your face! You won't be needing it anyway—there's always the mosaic!"
And he hurled the die as hard as he could.
It had just escaped his hand when he swiveled on his heel, not even bothering to look behind him at the result. He knew the die would make its mark, as illustrated by the clack as it fell again.
But maybe Ryuto would let himself give the benefit of the doubt and look just to see the result. Why not? He'd already won.
The die had landed on one dot, surrounded by those markings. The lone eye.
"Hah!" Ryuto was triumphant. As if winning on the first roll before his turn hadn't been enough, now he'd gotten the lowest number possible to beat him. "A one! I win!"
He turned away again, laughing to himself, until Yugi's voice stopped him cold. Somehow, it was enough to send a chill up his spine, akin to one as if a gun was being pointed at the back of his head. "No, I don't think so. I believe it's time for a Penalty Game..."
Penalty Game? "What?" Ryuto asked in disbelief, whirling about. "What the hell are you—"
His voice died in his throat when he caught sight of the die. It lay on the floor at his feet, still landed on the one, but a closer second glance told him what position it really was in: split in two, half with the one and the other half splintered apart nearby. He'd missed the other half when he'd been too focused on the top of the die itself.
Six dots on the other half. Six, and one...
He stared at Yugi, eyes widening. The boy was holding up his Puzzle, the sharp bottom point flashing at him, with a smile on his face that said everything.
Shit.
"No—no, please—" Ryuto didn't know why he was suddenly begging, pleading when he'd been so full of himself about his victory mere seconds before. But the boy's eyes, the way they gleamed, told him that whatever the boy was talking about wouldn't end well for him. He tried to move, to take a step back, to run. He could run, right? It wasn't as if he'd be able to catch him, he was heads taller and his legs were longer.
But to his horror, he couldn't move. He was stuck to the spot, fear rooting him to the ground as those horrible blood-colored eyes and that damn smile bore into him. The pyramid necklace swung back and forth like a pendulum as Yugi let go of it, raising one hand to point a finger. When he spoke, his voice echoed, reverberating through the lot and off the concrete walls and piercing through his mind.
"PENALTY GAME! ILLUSION OF MOSAIC!"
Gold flashed around his fingertip, bursting into markings that resembled those on the top of the broken die. They shot forward, glowing a pure and blinding white. It was everywhere, searing into his eyes, and he couldn't even open his mouth to scream because there was nothing left—
When it finally ended, it didn't take the burning sensation behind his eyes with it. Ryuto blinked several times, a groan escaping his throat as he squinted. The spots from the light were fading, giving way. He tried to focus, tried to will himself to move.
"Ah...ah..." His fingers were clutching around his face, twisted over his eyelids in a vain attempt to shield them. Gradually, he lowered them.
What...?
Everything was blurred together to the point of being pixellated. There were still colors, but they were all mixed together, the hues too sharp with no smooth lines in sight. He couldn't even see the kid in front of him, just a bunch of pixels in the shape of spikes over a body's outline. He couldn't see his car when he whirled for it, it was left as only a lump of red.
A mosaic. It was all a mosaic, he couldn't see, he couldn't feel anything but that. Just that.
He hadn't realized he'd fallen until, dimly, he heard a thump. The floor was hard under him, solid and firm as it should have been, but it was all wrong. It was only pixels, pixels, a mosaic of grays and whites and cracks. And the die, the broken parts—they were dissipating, fading into tendrils of black that curled upwards like smoke until they had disappeared, as if they were never there at all.
It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. This whole damn game didn't make sense, why, why, why—
Faintly, he heard approaching footsteps. Yugi, the not-Yugi, that brat with the pointed finger and all that gold, looked down at him. He would have scowled up into his face, swore at him, cursed him, but all that there was of him in his eyes was a mass of red and gold, white and blue. Incomprehensible. Inhuman.
"Director..." The voice sounded faint, but he could hear the steeliness in it, the scrape of scorn. "You twisted reality for the camera to suit your own needs. You tried to mask it with mosaic, to hide what damage you cause. Therefore, it's fitting, is it not? You will see the world through a filter of mosaic from now on, as long as you'd like. Just as you wanted, director."
The words were salt in the wound. That Yugi knew this, he did, and Ryuto would have liked nothing more to punch him, to hurt him for this if he could. But he only turned away, his pixels fading, and so he could only gape helplessly.
His screaming could be heard from the floors above.
The other Yugi's steps were even and calm, steady with her head held high. She turned a corner as she walked, out through the lifted doors and into the outside parking lot. The night air was cool and breezy against her face, stirring slowly through her hair.
She smiled grimly to herself. That director had gotten no less than what he'd deserved. He was pathetic, really. Laughing, smirking, so full of bravado until the tables turned to leave him begging for mercy he wasn't entitled to. Not after what he'd done to Jounouchi, to her.
Or him? No, that wasn't right. She was a she. A her. But she was also a him.
It varied. Didn't it? Sometimes she was a he, a boy, "boku". Sometimes she was a she, a girl, "atashi". But she was only a girl in these games, when the darkness demanded to be fed and she gave it what it desired, anything to keep it placated, being granted what she needed for her games in return. There were two things it'd given her now; the path to the director's studio and the die that was now broken. And she was female according to them, the shadows. So she complied.
But the other Yugi couldn't help feeling some sense of struggle. There was that question, pricking insistently at the back of her mind. Was she really Yugi? Was that truly her name? It had to be, there was no other reason why it wasn't. She'd looked through the memories provided and they told her that was her name.
They'd also told her she was actually a boy. Yet, she didn't follow that.
So, if that part of them was wrong, if she was really not a boy, or at least not always a boy...
Then what was she? Who was she?
No, she decided firmly. She couldn't think of that, not now...she had to go home. She was tired, and the stars in the sky, the moon shining down, told her it was late. Her grandfather would be worried sick.
Hands in her pockets, she began her way back to the shop.
"Yugi! Yugi, you there?"
"Wha—?"
Yugi shook himself out of his doze, head jerking up. Involuntarily, his mouth opened in an enormous yawn as he staggered and nearly tripped over a stray stone. He started to shake his head. "Sorry, Jounouchi. What did you say?"
Jounouchi huffed. "I asked, where were you yesterday? You just disappeared after we got back to school when lunch was nearly over, and Anzu and I couldn't find you anywhere! It was like you'd skipped out or something!"
"Huh?" Yugi stared in confusion. Out of all topics he'd expected his friend to bring up on their morning walk to school, this was lower than the last one he'd anticipated. And, now that they were nearing their destination through the gates, he wasn't sure if now was the best time to go into it. "Wait, we—we got back to school? After that director...?"
"Yeah." Jounouchi looked at him oddly. "Don't you remember? You helped me get up and we walked to class, and Anzu was really fussy about us, asked what happened and all that. You didn't say anything, though. How come?"
Yugi would have liked more than anything to give him a satisfactory answer with that expression on his face, of both concern and confusion. And a hint of regret. An apology for running off yesterday and letting him end up beaten by Fujita. He wished he could reassure him, tell him it was fine because it really was, and he couldn't still be mad over something so silly.
But there was the problem: Yugi had no satisfactory answer. He had none in the first place. The last thing he remembered was kneeling next to Jounouchi on the ground while that director had laughed at them, feeling slowly overwhelmed by anger at himself for being so stupid, the director for hurting and humiliating his friend. And then...
He frowned. The last thing he remembered was his grandfather shouting from downstairs that he'd be late if he didn't hurry up, jolting him awake. He'd stumbled through brushing his teeth and jumping into his clothes, and he'd hardly gotten through breakfast before he was rushing out the door. After him, his grandfather had called not to come home so late again, but he'd barely heard him.
That was all, and it disturbed him. What had happened? No matter how hard he racked his brain for any hint of what exactly he'd done in between those two times, nothing came up. Literally nothing. All there was left was blank, dark space, a lapse where what Jounouchi had said happened should have been.
It frankly scared him.
But he couldn't let Jounouchi know that. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to worry about him, and it was unthinkable after he'd already burdened him yesterday with getting injured by the director for his sake. The same went for Anzu. They both deserved better than that.
So Yugi did what he could: he improvised.
"Well..." he stalled sheepishly, trying to find the right words. "I wasn't—I didn't feel too well. My throat kind of hurt after, you know, what Fujita did. So I went to the nurse's, and she thought it was really bad, so she made—she made me stay in her office for a few hours. That sort of thing."
"Oh." Jounouchi looked immensely relieved, and Yugi couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the sheer gladness in his eyes. "That makes sense. But do you feel any better?"
"Yeah, my grandpa said it was nothing I couldn't handle," Yugi replied. "He can be tough that way. He's right, though, I'm—I'm fine."
"You sure?" Jounouchi paused, and then his face split into a grin. "Because I might have something that might cheer you up."
"What?" Yugi perked up. Anything that might cheer him up sounded better than worrying about the lapse.
"The goods!" The blond pulled out a cassette tape from his bag, holding it up triumphantly. The label on the side marked it as exactly the copy he'd been searching for, in all its uncensored glory. "You have no idea how long it took to find this. But I swear, it's worth it!"
"Wow, uh—thanks!" Yugi managed. He returned the grin as Jounouchi handed it to him, tossing it up in his fingers. It sailed through the air in an arc, and he reached out easily to catch it as Jounouchi snickered. "I'll definitely watch it tonight! Grandpa will be out, so I can—"
Another hand intercepted the tape as it fell, closing around it in one quick motion. Unfortunately, it wasn't Jounouchi's.
"Why, what's this?" Anzu winked, looking over the tape in what appeared to be great interest. "Wow, this looks interesting! Mind if I borrow it?"
For one painfully long second, neither Jounouchi nor Yugi thought that they were breathing. Finally, Jounouchi spoke, hand shaking as he tried to grab for the tape. "Anzu—!"
"What is it?" Anzu smirked playfully, snatching it back out of reach. She started to walk towards the school, waving the tape teasingly. "I'm sure it won't hurt if I take a look..."
"Anzuuu!" Jounouchi and Yugi chorused desperately. Jounouchi was the first to move, running after her as she carried it off. "Come on! You're not being fair!"
And Yugi could only follow, flailing frantically, but just a little relieved somewhere that things had gone back to normal. Maybe he could stop worrying so much. Just a gap—two gaps. Two losses. There wouldn't be any more.
Right?
Author's Notes:
Sorry this took so long! School got in the way a lot, let's just say that much.
* The ZTV director in the manga never is given a name, other than just "director". The closest thing to a name he gets anywhere else is "Lucius" from the Dungeon Dice Monsters game, according to the YGO wiki. Because that name sounds out of place in the Japanese setting, I went for an alternative that could be a counterpart, "Ryuto".
* There are numerous different ways to say "I" in Japanese, and they all are various ways of indicating the speaker's gender, age, class, etc. In canon, Yugi uses "boku", the standard polite term for young boys, while Yami uses "ore", a more masculine and slightly ruder pronoun. Here, Yugi still uses "boku", but Fem!Yami uses "atashi", a more feminine form of "watashi". "Atashi" is rarely used by males unless in a joking context and can be signified as a "camp gay" stereotype, hence why it seems strange that Fem!Yami uses it while looking like a boy.
The reason I had Fem!Yami use a girlier pronoun than in canon was because in this AU, where she and Yugi are of opposite genders in one body, she has trouble telling whether she's male or female. This is especially complicated by how she thinks she's Yugi, a boy, but also knows she's actually a girl. The use of "atashi" is something of an "anchor", so to speak, as the only thing she's 100% sure of about herself.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!