Author's Rant: Enjoy the next chapter everyone!

Serenity

Yami closed his eyes against the haunting image of his rival, the memory of their previous encounter forever drawing to the surface despite his fruitless attempts to keep it buried in the furthest regions of his mind. He could still feel the precise moment that it occurred, the actual feel of flesh-to-flesh contact and the sudden flare it ignited in his chest. His blood had roared to his ears, clouding his mind from the surrounding chaos happening.

It made his head throb, his hands clenching into balls of nail-gnawing tightness as a fragile bitterness coiled in his stomach. No matter how hard he tried to will the wintry chill of past anguish to envelop his innards to near suffocation, it couldn't submit the burning. Yami didn't like that. That old teenage heart of his was still ticking as if his sixteen-year-old days were the current present.

He cast aside the searing Purp in his hand and reached in his pocket for a stronger dose of something herbal to clear his mind. Drinking wouldn't work. He'd downed an entire bottle of Jonnie Walker and still felt like he could outrun a German Shepard, bare foot over a bed of needles. Red Dawn wasn't working. The Icy couldn't even mask the level of tingling anxiety. Nothing was working to clear his head of that bastard's face.

His body, sure, it was feeling the drugging effects of the blunts he'd smoked. His mind wasn't though. Judging by the trembles in his fingertips, the side effects were kicking in after three straight hours of polluting his lungs with the sticky merchandise.

~0~0~0~0~

Yami had made it home after going over the account withdrawal information with Seto and after doing a thorough survey of his terrain. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but the city was . . . too quiet, clean even. That goes a long way because even after a major street brawl between the Red Eyes and Blue Eyes, there would still be strings of minor scuffles.

But there wasn't anything. Laying low from the officers would only last a couple of days at best. It was early dawn on a Thursday. Unless he'd made a call around for everyone to stay undercover, and he hadn't, there should be money being made. Yami hadn't pondered over it too much and simply gone home. The only problem with that is, as soon as he had, he'd had a visitor waiting for him.

Nothing blue should even graze the Red Eyes Main House and here was a 2014 Chrysler 300, so blue it was hard to look at it. The owner was perched on the hood, head bowed and on guard if the rigid line of his broad shoulders were any indication. Nausea broiled in Yami's stomach upon the sight of Atem parked parallel of his house, the approaching auburn, lilac and crimson flares of the sun outlining his presence like torches from a distance.

If circumstances weren't what they were, Yami could admit to finding the shine of his rival, quite flattering on his caramel skin. But the situation was that they were sworn enemies, a mutual line of understanding lain between them that was as wide as the Medium Territory dividing them.

Nearly six years of bloody fights, gunfire and physical combat often left Yami's mind being steered on pure instinct, his body acting before his mind could register what it was doing. This particular moment was a good example. He'd parked his car several meters from the offending vehicle desecrating his property and was reaching in his waistband to pull out a Glock 37, aimed low by his thigh.

"I'm gonna assume you've hit that midlife crisis where you do stupid things without worrying about the consequences," was the first thing Yami said evenly, and without having to raise his voice any higher than normal audio. "Otherwise, why would a fool walk into the lion's den," Yami glared at the bright blue Chrysler, "with a bloody steak tied to your chest."

Atem heaved the kind of heavy sigh that said he knew perfectly well what he was doing and didn't need the lecture to elaborate on it. He pushed off the car and held up his hands. "I'm unarmed." He gave a jaunty wave of both his hands and leaned back on his car. "I came to talk, not to fight."

Yami almost wanted to roll his eyes. "Write a letter, send it through Pegasus, you know how things work. Don't believe that a mutual understanding changes anything. We're back at square one."

"I wouldn't expect our lives to change because you helped me save my daughter or we shared an accidental, if not expectedly cliché, kiss." Atem shrugged his shoulders. "No, I definitely shouldn't expect a thing of our lives to change in the least."

The sarcasm rolled like oil down Yami's spine. He gritted his teeth in frustration. If there was anything at all that Yami thought that he and Atem did share, was it a bilateral understanding. If they didn't have trust, then there was a level of respect that the other kept for their rival in terms of keeping their distance. Atem willingly crossed that line without a face of regret, or fear or worry of being maimed to death by a bunch of angry Red Eyes.

"What do you want?" Yami preferred fighting on leveled grounds with this man so he tucked away his gun and matched his stance, arms folded and legs spread shoulder width apart.

"Like I said," Atem slipped off the side of his car like a wet viper and started approaching, "not to fight. Just to talk." Atem seemed momentarily appeased, tilting his head when Yami maintained the space between them. "You look nice." He smirked. "Looks like something I would've bought you."

Yami bristled under that look. Back then, yeah this would've been something Atem would've got him as a gift. When things weren't as—complicated—Atem would buy Yami all kinds of outfits from name brand vendors like Hugo Boss, Ralph Lauren, Gucci, Calvin Klein, Diesel, Sean Paul, Coach, Nike, anything he though would advertise Yami's good looks best. Not anything low quality would touch his body. It was habit Yami still carried with him to this day, hence, his current attire; a black and green Pierick Pro Hugo Boss slim fit polo shirt, baggy fitted black Hugo jeans and black super fly high top Jordans.

"What do you want?" Yami repeated evenly, his patience obviously thin if the narrowing slit bright red around his pupils defined it and the steady tap of his finger in the crook of his elbow.

"You don't have to be on guard."

"Says the man who nearly ran me over a few weeks ago."

"You pistol whipped my face."

"Says the man who shot at me."

"You shot at me first."

Yami scowled. Atem kept his expression at ease. He wasn't going to touch that bait Yami kept dangling in front of him, no matter how tempting. He wanted an excuse to make Atem leave. Atem wasn't going to give it to him.

"Look, just let me say my piece, and I'm gone. Alright?" Atem started reaching behind his back. "Relax, I told you I'm not armed," he said when he caught Yami's muscles tensing. "I wanted to give you something." He came back with a folded sheet of red construction paper.

Yami left it hanging right where it was, eyeing Atem's face stoically. "What is it?"

"See for yourself. I promised I wouldn't look at it." Atem said, extending his hand.

Yami watched him in silence. He didn't immediately dismiss it, Atem noticed, so that gave way to believing he was a little bit intrigued. The Red Eye leader's bangs hung over his eyes, as his head bowed to study the sheet of paper. His nails dug into his skin. Crescent crevices were the result left behind, marring his arms, yet he gave no sign of caring.

Atem kept his hand out and his eyes on Yami's face. There was no air of caution, danger, or a swift movement that'd give way to an attempted trap, but Atem still felt like this moment was a way of bending burnt bridges.

"If this is a trap. . ." Yami challenged softly.

"It isn't," Atem countered just as soft. "Word is bond."

That was pushing it hard if it really was some elaborate trap to make Yami drop his guard. Now, he knew it couldn't be one. Word is bond is a phrase more solid than contract written in blood. You didn't just throw something that deep out and reproach on it.

And Yami still had a hard time making his feet cut the short distance to Atem's hand.

He forced himself to do it, at last when Atem's arm began to tremble. He would've probably endured that slight physical pain just to get Yami to take it from him.

Yami flipped the crested sheet back and forth, checking for any kind of signature or marking. There was a floppy drawn blue heart, blended purple because of the paper's shade, and speckles of different sized stars around it. He cocked an eyebrow at Atem as if to say 'What the hell are you playing at' and all he got back was an innocent shrug.

Yami sucked his teeth and undid the paper. It opened to an elementary drawing of what he assumed was the Domino City Garden Park because of the colorful flowers, brown benches and stick people. However, three stick people stuck out instantly. One with the gold crayon stick was no doubt Atem. The next wearing that familiar orange pull over hoodie with the watermelon smiley face and fat ears was Yugi—Yami softly smiled at that—and there was drawn stick man with spiky hair, a deep sadness etched on his oval face.

"Kisara drew this for me." Yami fingered over the rough crayon textures with a delicacy resolved for a lover.

Atem chuckled fondly. "Yes, she calls you the man with sad eyes."

Yami pointedly stare at the frowning scowl.

"I'm taking her to the park, Friday," Atem continued carefully, so as not to break the spell of understanding. "She's given Yugi a picture too, with all of us. It's her way of saying thank you."

"Hers or yours?" Yami automatically questioned.

"Hers, I haven't figured out a way of repay my debt to you or Yugi yet, but I will."

"I thought I made it clear—"

Atem stopped him with his palm out. "I know. You don't want it, that isn't how the streets work. I've taught you this. I cannot go about my ways unless my debts are paid, you realize. That's my daughter's life after all. She owes you that, which falls unto me as her father."

Yami grimly folded the paper. "If this is her doing, my acceptance should be all she needs."

"Accept her gratitude by joining us. That is, me, Yugi and Kisara, the four us together at the park," Atem chuckled, "and for once, not under violence and misunderstandings. It'll be with the singular intentions of answering a little girl's request to meet her heroes."

"Don't use your daughter as an excuse," Yami grumbled, annoyed with himself for contemplating the invite. "I still don't trust you."

"You may not trust me, fully—"

Yami looked at him sharply. "I don't trust you at all—"

"Fully," Atem continued without missing a beat, his eyes and his lips narrow, but his smile wide and serpentine on his handsome face. "I lost count of the times you've left your back turned to me, Yami. That isn't a mistake you easily make unless you drop your guard." He took a step forward. "You've done it enough times to not consider me a threat anymore. So . . . I wonder what that means."

Had he really? When had. . . Yami's eyes widened, lips pursed hard against his teeth. All those occasions, those instances he hadn't given into his instincts to tense up and go into defense whenever Atem was around. The time they searched the park for Kisara, when he walked around to his car after they looked for the guns and—and when they were using the car as a shield against the gunfire. Not once had Yami flinched. Not once had he thought to keep his eyes on Atem at all times. Because, why? What did it mean? Nothing can change like that without a trigger. There hadn't been enough time to—for anything to happen between them for this to happen.

Yami curled his lip and flicked his eyes away from Atem's intense gaze and quiet patience.

"See?" Atem whispered, wine colored eyes shining at Yami with a radiance sharper than direct sunlight. "I cannot say you've come to regard me as anything less than an enemy, but not a particularly dangerous one if you allow me this close."

Yami closed his eyes, his fingers, he wished, were trembling to grab his gun, but in reality it was because of the overwhelming lack of space between him and Atem. The Blue Eyes leader had gotten closer than expected, his face a few inches above Yami's brow. He wasn't touching him, but every warm breath he released felt as damningly close to physical contact as any other touch.

"I can't make you come, though I would feel honored if you did. Just understand if you do, I'll take it for meaning you're willing to sever a portion of this six-year hatred. Maybe move on from this, start anew?"

Yami scoffed a short snort and kept his eyes stubbornly strayed to the side. "I doubt that."

"I did say maybe." Atem lingered in Yami's personal space a moment longer, whiffing in his woody cologne before retreating. "Yugi will be there," he added before turning on his heel and going to his car. "If anything, that should be enough reason to show. He'd want you to." With that said Atem sunk inside his car and drove off.

~0~0~0~0~

That'd been earlier on. Yami had gone inside to change out of his attire and into some black cotton cargo pants and a red wife beater to sit and consider his options. He was still sitting on the front step of his house hours later, blunt in hand and a blurry decision to make on whether he really wanted to take that route. The drawing sat folded neatly by his thigh, not forgotten but merely sitting there, existing, and a chronic remainder that he needed to ponder over his next move.

It was infesting his mind slowly, the way a black mamba's venom gradually traveled in its victim's veins. That's what Yami felt like. As if, he were slowly being poisoned with change.

Why did every ticking second feel like an eternal wait in prison? Counting down the moment you were finished with school for the week, worked a nerve like nobody's business. Yugi especially wanted to get out of there to escape the burning glare searing through his head. Tristan was back there, still fuming. Yugi knew it. Yugi tried talking to him all day, but the brunet eluded him with a swiftness, blending in with the pack of students after the bell rang. He tried cornering Tristan during lunch period, but was detoured—and Yugi strong believes that was intentional—by Duke, Rebecca and Ryou to sit at another table near the vending machines.

Yugi's last attempt had been in Chemistry when the teacher stepped out to speak to someone. Yugi snuck to the back and tried to force Tristan into talking with him. The cold shoulder he got couldn't have been a clearer message and the glare he earned made the classroom several degrees chillier. They'd had arguments before, but never to this extreme. Yugi didn't want to waste a friendship with the first person who saw him as something other than an easy target in pre-school.

Yugi sighed. It was nerve-wracking as hell. He'd give Tristan sometime over the weekend to cool off. After that, maybe he'll be easier to reason with.

The bell finally rang for the final part of the day. Yugi quickly stuffed in his books and hurried out the door half listening to the teacher's announcement on next week's assigned homework. He idled at his locker shortly to grab his blue blazer, a new change of tennis shoes and to unload all of his textbooks inside. Passing through the largely packed corridor, Yugi wrinkled his nose at the cluster of freshman wandering the hall like lost kittens and seniors stalling at their friends' lockers for last minute discussions on this weekend's activities.

No doubt, everyone was going to be visiting the Boom. Duke invited Yugi and the rest of them to hang for the night but he passed on the offer. He still wasn't comfortable last month's incident and he knew Tristan would show, knowing how much he disliked Joey. It was bound to be flooded with Red Eyes after being forced into confinement with all the police lurking around.

He cast a few waves here and there to his classmates and spoke to a few of his teammates about next week's trip to the finals before stepping through the metal double doors. The air was stark with the sun's flattening heat, barreling down through the gaps of the clouds. The weatherman called for an overcast, which Yugi was glad to see was approaching from over the horizon. He picked up the pace and hurried on to the Gardens Park.

Since his school let out fifteen minutes before the elementary schools, Yugi had time to enjoy the park's general splendor. He missed the tranquil oasis that bloomed from just being caught in the center of so many engaging smells. It was a tourist's dream, perhaps one of the few attractions Domino could be proud of. There were stargazer lilies owning their own unique beauty from the rest, blue irises so brilliantly blue they were easy to spot a mile away, and dangling honey suckles tantalizing the air with a scent so sweet, you could lick the air and taste its nectar. Yugi could bask in this artificial meadow forever.

Yugi leisurely strolled down the sidewalk, hands grasping his backpack straps, gathering in the park as if it were his first time when he abruptly saw and felt a flash of white and navy run smack into his legs. He wobbled unsteadily, impulse telling him to keep himself as well as the small bundle from tumbling over.

"Looks like someone's happy to see me." Yugi cupped his hands over Kisara's shoulders and eased her back to look at her face.

He was stunned. A soft grimace flashed over his face as he took in her tear-streaked face, trails of the transparent droplets leaving ashy paths over her cheeks.

"Oh, no, Kisara, don't cry." Yugi tugged at cuff of his sleeve and used it to clean her face. "What's wrong, love? Did someone bother you?" he wouldn't put it pass some of the children to gang up on anyone who looked remotely different from the rest. He'd been down that road because of his short stature and large eyes.

"No, no," she hiccupped, small fists rubbing fruitlessly at her eyes. "I-I'm just really happy. Daddy said you'd come, but I thought you'd be mad at me." The broken up words shattered like glass. She broke down, burying her face urgently into his slacks, fearful shudders shaking her body.

Yugi stared cautiously at the little girl before him, at a total loss as to what to do. "I'm not angry," he tried to say, though whether she heard or not was a mystery. Kisara clutched at his pants like a child desperate for their parent to stay home . . . or more like she was afraid he'd never see her again.

Yugi reached down to loosen her grasp on his pants and kneeled to her height, eye to eye. "Listen, love," her tiny hands drowned in his oversized palms. They were brought to his mouth and kissed, each finger getting individual attention. "I'm not mad at you. I could never be angry unless I'm scared for your safety. Why on earth would you think I'd be upset with you?"

Kisara's bottom lip stuck out. "Because I ran away from home and got caught by the bad people."

A heavy thump settled in the bottom of Yugi's stomach. He controlled the recoiling effect it brought upon hearing how she was kidnapped and simply presented a stern frown. "In that case, I should be mad at you, shouldn't I?"

Kisara nodded, and left her chin perched on her chest.

"You scare us, you know. Not just your father but me and a," Yugi thought a moment, "a friend of ours who was equally worried for you. Every action has a consequence so the next time you think about doing something; imagine what will happen after doing it. You understand?"

New tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. "You sound mad to me."

"That's only because I care about what happens to you." He let go of her hands and braced them on her sides, using one hand to pinch her chin up. He looked into eyes made of endless blue and smiled. "Would you be upset with me if I ran away and got hurt?"

"Yes," she peeped, "because that would be irresponsible. My grandpa says if you do irresponsible things, you get punished. If you cannot handle your irresponsible actions, you deserve to be reprim. . um . . . reprim. . ."

"Reprimanded," Yugi helped and gave her a gentle wiggle. He'd make a small note in the back of his mind how a five-year-old know what reprimand and irresponsibility meant later. "But really, baby girl, I'm not mad. I'm disappointed, but I'm just happy to see you're ok and happy."

"I am happy now," she said and took a tentative step forward. "I get to play with you." Her skinny arms were up and around Yugi's shoulders before he saw them coming.

Yugi stood, with the child in tow and clasped her to his chest, swaying from side to side, and rubbed his cheek against hers. Yugi placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and stroked the combed white hairs head in long downward sweeps. This little girl was such a treasure in his eyes. He meant every word he said, no matter how frighteningly true they sounded and scary that he'd said them.

CLICK! CLICK!

The faint sound startled Yugi after hearing it a fifth time. He glanced over Kisara's shoulder and spied Atem with a Popsicle stick loosely hanging out of the corner of his mouth and his phone held up.

"Yeah, oh yeah," he nodded after pressing his finger over the hidden folders section and locked the pictures in his phone. "That's definitely a Kodak moment."

"Daddy!" Kisara scolded angrily. "I wasn't pretty!"

"Yes you were, you lil' diva. You looked fine, you both did." Atem presented them with a smirk, his white smile gleaming in the dimmed afternoon sunlight. It was while Kisara was busy getting down from Yugi's arms that a reserved look was settled on Yugi, heavy as an anvil dipped in boiling water.

At least, they thought the look went unnoticed.

"Daddy, you got that scary face!" Kisara smacked her father's thigh, tapping her foot and wagging her finger like a grown woman. "Didn't I tell you not to do that to my friend?"

Atem looked offended. "I didn't have a scary face this time!"

"Yes you did!"

"What'd I look like? Show me," he challenged.

"You looked like this," Kisara slacked her entire face and plastered her hands on her cheeks, mushing and molding her face into her father's expression. When she was finish, she flipped her hair back and gazed at Yugi, eyes hooded and lips tooted in a crooked smile. "See? Like this. I don't like that 'cause you keep looking at Yugi like you wanna gobble him up!"

Atem struggled to hold in the laughter at the disgruntled look on Yugi's face. "Say that again, baby girl? I wanna do what?"

"Gobble him up?"

Atem exploded in laughter at the rush of red drowning Yugi's face. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, shaking his head. "Out of the mouths of babes. Whew, that's a good one. Hey—hey, don't get mad at me, she said it!" He ducked just in time to avoid what would have been a painful slap of Yugi's hands, still laughing.

"Only because you're encouraging her," Yugi snapped, with a half-hearted edge. "Have some shame."

"I have none, sorry." Atem tucked his phone in his pocket. "Might have to keep this saved for blackmail. You two wanna swing?" He bump his chin towards the swing set in the distance and started walking over. Yugi grabbed Kisara's hand and followed suit.

He noticed something just then. "I wonder where the parents are. The schools should've let out by now."

"They're letting the children out in the back of the school."

Yugi paused, causing Atem to halt as well. Kisara, oblivious to the conversation, continued on to the swings and snatched the closest one.

"Why?" asked Yugi.

Atem jerked his chin to the elementary school. "I told the principal to warn the parents that I'd be in the area. These are direct orders of Pegasus. We, that is, Yami and I, aren't allowed within a certain radius of the school grounds without permission. I've gotten his permission before. This time, I don't feel like asking. Simple as that." He started to walk off.

Yugi grabbed his arm and gently yanked back. "It's not simple as that, Atem. You're inconveniencing the other parents and their kids. Everyone deserves to enjoy the park."

Atem's eyes darted at the hand on his arm, Yugi's face, the fingers digging into his bicep and back into Yugi's frowning eyes. Every strip of muscle in his arm grew taut around those offending digits. He must be getting really soft to let this boy grab him like this. "So, I should neglect my daughter's request and let her roam the park alone, while her only friend stands there signing autographs and she waits her turn for his attention." He pulled his arm free and folded it across his chest. "Tell me if I'm in the left field or straying close to home base."

Yugi frowned. "That's not funny."

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" said Atem, wine eyes dilating so dangerously there wasn't a shred of color left. "Answer me, I'm expecting one today."

Yugi looked him up and down as if Atem was two inches from the ground. "Whatever," he snorted, about to brush pass him.

This time Atem grabbed his arm and squeezed. Yugi winced under the pressure, turning defiant eyes of rage on his captor. The teen's shoulders were tense and his body stiff as a nail. Atem's glare softened several degrees when a sudden revelation hit him. "You like fightin' with me, don't you?"

Yugi blinked owlishly. "Say what?"

"You do," Atem insisted with a knowing smirk. "That's why you don't listen. You like getting me riled up."

Yugi's face twisted and he turned away, stubbornly glaring at a distant building. "Clearly, someone's full of himself, if he thinks I'd honestly put in that much effort to get a reaction." He chuckled humorously. "From past experiences, I hadn't had to try too hard anyway." He turned his head back, eyes half-lidded and daring. Yugi praised himself for getting Atem to lose his composure all together. That glare was back, full force. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Atem chortled quietly. "You're some kind of funny, Young Buck." He let Yugi go, shoving him in Kisara's direction. "But we'll continue expressing how much of you want me for another time. My daughter awaits."

"I don't want you—ouch!"

Yugi reeled up to the tips of his toes horrified. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Atem slipping by casually with his hands tucked away in his pockets. He looked like an innocent bystander and not someone who just smacked a brick-red print on Yugi's ass cheeks.

"Bastard," Yugi growled under his breath, rubbing tenderly at his throbbing behind. He couldn't get this person. One minute he's up and the next he's down. His mood swings are as bad as Yami's. It's no wonder they're always at each other's throats.

Speaking of Yami. Yugi gazed around the park curiously. He wandered if the Red Eye leader would show. He wanted him to come. Yugi had missed their scheduled date earlier this morning because of school. That was partly the reason why he wanted Yami to come, to apologize. But if the man didn't show up—

"He'll come."

Yugi started, looking up ahead to see Atem staring off in a direction. "How'd you know I was looking for him?"

Atem sighed. "Because I have been too," he admitted.

"But you're sure he'll come?"

"I'm hoping he will. This," Atem shook his head slowly, "this grudge between us is old. I've grown tired of it honestly."

"Oh," Yugi came to up Atem's side, peering up at his angled face. "So, why not just end it all?"

Atem smirked with no humor. "It's not that easy, Young Buck. You're talking about squishing a feud that goes far beyond Yami and me. The Red Eyes and Blue Eyes have been out for each other's blood for over fifty years. It's not something that'll disappear overnight."

"That long?"

"That long."

"I didn't know." Yugi grimly thinned his lips at the prospect of killing having stretched as far back as the 1960s. He shook his head. "Killing's so stupid and senseless."

"I couldn't agree more, but," Atem shrugged again, "it's either kill or be killed out here. Our anger, hatred and discrimination towards one another has cast such a shadow of darkness over the years. If a Red Blood so much as sees a stitch of blue wander into their lands, that offender is good as dead without question. The same with my crew. If you whisper the words Brah or Red to us, it's an insult and a bullet to the head."

"Why is it like that? That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair." Atem narrowed his eyes pointedly at Yugi. "Otherwise, your brother would be alive wouldn't he?"

That dampened his spirits quickly. Yugi closed his eyes against the dismal image of his brother's face in that casket, the memory flashing like an old school movie; no matter how hard he tried to erase it. He could still recall how cold and unnatural Heba's hand felt beneath his when he touched it. Yugi couldn't come to terms with that lifeless corpse being his brother. The skin felt synthetic the way freshly manufactured manikin would after being molded into a pose. The loud clang of metal to mood was the last sound Yugi heard that day before Heba was wheeled out by friend and family to the Rich Haven Cemetery.

Atem was right, life wasn't fair and to this day Yugi would always ask why his brother. It was selfish, but he'd even thought about it being someone else's brother instead of his. Let someone else suffer the terror of a loss sibling, like the other piece of your soul was ripped out and held over a fire to burn. It made his chest hurt, his hands balling into fists at his side. Then Yugi would wept at his cruel thoughts and for the loss of a brother, he'd never feel, smell, hear or touch again. Just thinking about it made his eyes burn, tears welling to leak despite his efforts to hold them at bay.

Yugi jolted when a long arm hooked behind his shoulders and tugged him into a warm purchase. He glanced up at the watery picture of Atem looking away. "Life ain't fair, that don't mean you gotta accept it all the time."

Yugi felt as if his throat were restricting, his vision blurring against the odd pang of hurt he felt. "It still hurts, every day it hurts."

"It's going to, probably for the rest of your life. That's just another one of those survival tests I told you about before. You live, experience, learn and move on."

"I wish it were that easy," Yugi sniffled, wiping under his nose with his sleeve. He squirmed to be let go, but Atem firmed his hold. Yugi didn't bother trying anymore and let himself be held. "Have you ever lost someone?" Yugi asked after collecting himself.

Several minutes went by with Atem looking in that same distance, to where Yugi would've thought Atem hadn't heard him until he released a long, sad sigh. "Too many times, I have. My uncle, my mother, a few cousins . . . your brother . . . and Yami."

"Did you love Heba too?"

"Love?" Atem bitterly chuckled. "Not quite. I tolerated Heba for Yami's sake, though I did grow to care for your brother."

"Wait." Yugi rubbed under his nose again, a light scowl marring his feathers. "You and Heba and Yami . . . you three weren't. . ." how could he phrase such a question?

"In some kind of fucked up taboo relationship?" Atem finished in a sourly quiet tone. "Yeah we were. The three of us were together in a sexual relationship, not entirely romantic, but stimulatingly satisfying."

Yugi scrunched his face up in disgust. He did not want to hear any details about his brother fucking anybody, especially Atem and Yami. That made his chest constrict for some reason. "Did you ever consider making peace with the Red Eyes?" Yugi asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, once." Atem fell smoothing on the new topic like sliding on water. "In 2001 we established a truce. That was me and Yami's doing. We called it the Watts Truce, because we established it in the Watt Gymnasium. We came up with a new gang name to combine the colors: The Purple Fiends."

"Really?"

Atem nodded. "We had our own hand signs, territories and networks. We ran Domino better than an oiled mustang." He scoffed. "A lot of good it did. The shit only lasted three years before we went back to warring."

"Why? If you had a good thing going, what could ruin it?"

"Betrayal, lies, cheating, the usual cliché flaws that comes with a peaceful fusion of powers." The bronze hand stroked absently up and down the teen's arm as the owner continued speaking. "There will always be that few who can't accept the way things are and want more power then what's already bestowed them."

"You could always try again."

"Not likely. Once is enough. It's better if the powers stay divided as they are. Less means of control over the city and there isn't a huge struggle over who wants to be top."

Atem's eyes suddenly crinkled harshly in the corners. The area he'd been staring at for so long drew his attention again when he heard door slam. Yugi followed his eye of vision, wandering kept the Blue Eyes leader distracted. The answer came in a 5'10 man wearing a black sleeveless Hollister shirt, baggy acid washed grey jeans and matching grey Air Max shoes. A bandana was tied around his brow, blond bangs rebelling against the restraint and narrow, glaring red eyes.

Atem's whole body vibrated with tension; his instincts were going a haze of different emotions, to protect, be on guard, attack, be calm, relax, think, be satisfied, act, or don't act. There was no way of interpreting Yami's approach. He had rebel written all over his attire, but his expression was blank, far off and secluded from the world. In fact, he eyes weren't facing forward. They were cast downward, granting the cement and blades of grass his attention as if they were the reason he made himself come.

Gratified beyond relief, Yugi opened his mouth to speak, but a squeeze on his shoulder, halt any attempts. He looked questioningly at Atem, wondering why. There was no reply. The Blue Eyes leader was keeping a diligent watch over his rival's proximity, at times darting his daze every which a way as if expecting a flood of red bloods to come pouring out of the alleyways.

Yami stopped several feet away, locked in a match of tension with wine hue eyes. His glare softened in tiny margins when landing on Yugi's worried expression. Something close to a smile started on his mouth but it was reframed. Tension sizzled in waves. No one moved. Even Kisara, who was a few yards away paused her activities to gaze at the sudden intrusion and the blame to why the air suddenly took a colder atmosphere, despite the sun's full radiance peeking through the greying clouds.

Containing the build of anxious instinct that surged through his veins was difficult, but Yami did. The hands that laid lifelessly at his side rose up and faced forward, palms open to signify something that stunned Atem. Any worries Yugi had evaporated. He shoved his shoulders free and closed the gap between them and Yami.

"You came," he said breathless and appeased. "I was worried you wouldn't."

"So was I," Yami said evenly. He gave Atem a smooth look. "Atem."

Atem nodded. "Young Blood."

Yugi suddenly bowed at the waist, eyes closed. "I wanted to say I was sorry for missing our date before. I had school and, well, it kind of got in the way, so I forgot." He flipped back up. "That doesn't mean I don't feel the same way. I really do want to continue where we left off."

The smile did manage to push pass the barrier restraining it. Yami tilted his head minutely to the side, ducking his chin to level Yugi with an expression with the equivalent gleam of an autumn morning. "I'd like that," Yami said.

Atem folded his arms from afar, witnessing a new side of his rival that he hadn't see appear in years. No amount of urging on his part could make that expression surface and yet with Yugi it appears like peeling the petals from a flower bud. Atem hummed in thought and amusement.

His legs were suddenly weighed down by a slighter figure. Atem peered down at his daughter's nosey face looking between the gaps of his legs at the newcomer. Kisara blinked and stared, watched and examined the person she remembered up close.

"Daddy, can I say hi?"

"I don't know, can you?" Atem teased.

"Daddy!" Kisara patted his leg. "Please?"

"Hm." Atem looked up. Yugi and Yami were still engaged in their silent communication thing. He cleared his throat and gained their attention. The pair looked at him and then at the tiny child hiding behind his legs. "Someone wants to say hello."

Kisara made her presence known, stepping out, shuffling her feet one over the other. "Hi, Mr. Sad Eyes."

Yami straightened his back.

Atem thought he'd piss his pants at the response. He cleared his throat again and nudged his daughter forward. Kisara fought against the pressure a little, and then caved in taking tiny, microscopic steps forward until she was standing by Yugi and in front of Yami. She reached up for Yugi's hand and kept her doe blue eyes to the ground.

"Hi," she tried again. She took a stab at looking directly at his face. The strangest scowl pinched her delicate features and she was stepping up closer to study Yami's face like she recognized it.

And she did. Kisara's face brightened. "Daddy has a picture of you."

Yami blinked, so did Yugi. Atem was the one not amused. "Kisara," he snapped warningly.

However, she paid no heed, turning a pouty face at her father. "You do. I saw it when I went in your room."

"When?"

Kisara returned her attention to the person who spoke. "A long time ago," she said to Yami, "in his closet. He keeps it locked, but I stole the key from his shoe. I wanted sweets and he hid them. So I went looking. I found it in a shoebox. I remember your face. He has lots and lots of pictures." She pointed a baby-fat finger and smiled. "You didn't have sad eyes though. They looked like Yugi's."

Yugi blanched. "Like mine?"

"Uh-huh, they were shiny like my grandpa coins. Daddy was kissing his cheek. I look like that when my daddy gives me kisses. My daddy has nice kisses. Doesn't he Yugi?"

"Uh," yeah, he would know wouldn't he? Immediate remembrance of the kisses they shared started to penetrate Yugi's brain like daggers. Sweetness filled his mouth. His face grew heavy and hot with the blush warming his face. "I guess."

"I'm sure they would both know how good your father's kisses are," Yami commented offhandedly. He lifted an eyebrow at the quiet Yugi and the shifty eyed Atem. No one said anything. He wouldn't expect them too. The aftermath of that particular incident wasn't exactly rewarding.

"Well." Yugi loudly clapped his hand together. "Let's kill this awkward moment with a game. Anyone wanna play something?"

"Depends," said Atem, shifting smoothing from the artless tension. "Hide and seek is out."

"What about hop scotch?"

"I'm a grown ass man! What the hell I look like skipping and giggling and shit?"

Yami smirked. Atem cut his eyes at him. Yugi chuckled. "Ok, that's out. What about freeze tag?"

"Oh, I like tag!" Kisara excitedly clapped. "Let's play that!"

Anything to break the ice, Atem figured. "Fine, I'll play." He looked at Yami. "What about you?"

Yami gave him a glare that wondered why his rival had the audacity to even ask.

"K, just it's just the three of us. Yugi you're it."

Yugi looked put off. "Why am I it?"

"'Cause I said so." He lightly pushed the teen away. "Go on and start. I'll come in a minute."

"Alright," Yugi looked between Yami and Atem, especially at Yami before grabbing Kisara's hand and going off to start the game.

"Yami," Atem got the man's attention once he was sure the Yugi and Kisara were out of earshot. "About that picture. . ."

"You have one of us together," Yami breathed quietly. "When was it taken? Before or after Heba?"

"Before," Atem crouched. "Why the hell would I want any afterwards? I wasn't as happy was I was when it was the three of us."

Yami took a deep breath through his nose, quelling his instinctive reaction to lash out in defense of his dead lover.

"That wasn't why I mentioned it." Atem eyes stayed locked on Yami's face. "Kisara said your eyes shined like Yugi's. Did you know, for a moment, that I saw a little of your old self when you looked at him?"

"I know," Yami confirmed, voice cool and unaltered. "He brings that out of me. Just looking at his face, it soothes me. I fought against the reason why. I thought it was because he looked a little like his brother. I know better now."

"You've changed," Atem remarked after gathering a quiet speculation of Yami's stance. "It suits you. I miss seeing that shine in your eyes."

Yami shook his head slightly. "I hate change, hate the way it's effecting me."

"He brings out that part of me, I hate to let out too, but it's probably best it happens now. Maybe that's what'll make this change interesting." Atem ducked his head, to catch Yami's eye. "It'll be nice to be around someone who won't make us look over your shoulder so much."

Yami paused, thought a moment and moistened his lips. "Maybe." He turned and went to join the sudden shrills of play and mirth taking place behind them without another word.

Unbeknownst to him, Atem had to admire the subtle changes taking over his rival and the peace enveloping him when seeing his daughter and Yugi at play. He'll tell Yami about his back being turned on him later. For now, he was gratified with what Yami's arrival meant. In his own subtle way, Yami had given his blessings to attempting another try at rekindling. They'd all enjoy the peace without worry now.

Sun light glared off the Panasonic camera lens.

CLICK! CLICK!

These were marvelous snapshots, all maintaining a captured instant of beauty. Frozen images paused for brief moment for the photographers examination and when satisfied, he pressed the save button and placed his eye behind the lens. Several more shots were taken. They were perfect. She was gorgeous.

"Yeah, that's it sweetheart. Keep smiling. Baby, that's perfect. Right there, right there." Dark brows furrowed tightly in lust, as he leaning forward, licking the desert dryness on his lips. He nearly lost his collected composure when she shouted out a gleeful squeal. He watched like a ravenous vulture so raptured in the way her hair sailed behind her in a weightless sheet of starlight.

The girl dodged a sneak attacked from behind and kept running in little circles, twirling on her the tip of her toes like a ballerina's last act. The stimulating sight made saliva richly coat the bed of his tongue.

Jesus, she was flawless. "Shit, give it to me. Smile. Perfect."

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

He couldn't stand another minute of just looking. The desire, the need, the subliminal pleasure, and smothering fantasy ideas plunging his mind deep with depths of images of red staining fair white skin and the final sigh of completion before the final eye roll that defines utter defeat. . . It was all too much.

Skin softer then silk, soft like no others, not a mark ever known to pleasure it with a blemish. Her skin will glisten like a sunset's horizon over a layer of snow.

A silent moan escaped his lips; fragile body, little arms, little legs, and as delicate as a baby bird squirming for that final breath in a viper's embrace.

He couldn't wait to have her. Oh Kisara. Blood slipping from her lips will add to her enchanted perfection.

Fun Fact: The Watts Truce was a peace agreement among rival street gangs in Los Angeles. Although not universally adhered to, the truce was a major component of the decline of street violence in the city during the 1990s. It was declared between warring gangs in the community of Watts in the days just before the 1992 Los Angeles riots. After 20 years of internecine warfare that waged across the public housing projects of Los Angeles two rival "sets" within the infamous Crips gang decided that enough was enough.

~side note~ Ending was slightly alterred to clear up confusion.