Author's Rant: Kudos to Wings of Hikari for not giving up on me when I was about to. Thanks babycakes ^_^.

~Side Note~ Corrections made

Stroked Tensions

Domino City was nothing, but a ticking time bomb nearing the end of it's fuse. No one knew that better then The Supreme.

He calmly removed his cigar and hissed the essence through his teeth. How long had he been waiting for this moment to come? Nearly ten years? Probably a little longer. He'd definitely had a better grasp of this city before that fool Atem and bastard Yami ever came in the picture. Those two were still swimming around in their daddies' nut sack while The Supreme had been combing the streets, fabricating his reign in throes. One such place was known as Kelly Park.

Kelly Park.

A territory that stretched from Muriel Avenue in the west to Stoneacre Avenue in the east and Alondra Blvd to the north to Greenleaf Blvd to the south. All of the terrain belonged to a virulent gang of cutthroats known as the Kelly Compton Brotherhood, nicknamed the Area Boys. The crew is built of a hundred and fifty-seven strong and growing. They had two recognizable colors representing the family, sage green and the second being beige.

In the 1970's, they went by the name Kelly Stone Wallers, but have since then stronger leadership as gravitated through the generations, strengthened the bonds between crewman and enhanced modernized skills. The K.C.B. remained scarce on radar for decades, undetected, steadily building their membership in clandestine stealth. They didn't go around exerting their power like the rival gangs who made it their business to advertise their power.

The Brotherhood didn't need to. Everyone knew to walk in the other direction as soon as they made their appearance. If you ever had the misfortune to see an Area Boy, it was always the telltale sign that someone was going to die or was already dead. There was no other reason for them to show except to take care of business and disappear. They worked low key, keeping any deals and all calls under wraps unless provoked to remind the citizens that they still existed. However, with the modern times becoming more populated and the name of only two gangs being the ones to make Domino City quake in its boots, it was time for a change in scenery

Not to mention, there was a little something called revenge in order.

A murder was committed of one of their own a month ago. One of the high top crews of Domino, the Red Eye Spades O.G. Yami Sennen, had gunned down Ushio, the current Supreme over the Brotherhood's son. Since then, there'd been losses that were more hazardous. A crackdown occurred on Stoneacre Avenue and a piece of Alondra Blvd three weeks ago. The other reigning gang T.O.G. Atem Hassan confiscated it. You see, that was about over two hundred and seventy five grand taken in the span of eight days. It'd taken The Brotherhood a generation of family members to secure that lot and manipulate it to fit their preferences.

That just won't do. The Supreme wasn't feeling those losses and especially didn't care for the death of his son to that block headed bitch Yami. There was already a little something in store for him, but Atem was the one he had money to take care of first. Zigfried emptied out a good deal of those fools' bank accounts to pay the Supreme's men to infiltrate the RES and BEA's street networks. According to the last report given by one of his suppliers, thirty-nine of his men had joined inside the RES and forty-two were creeping inside the BEA.

The Supreme took a long pull of his thick Cuban cheroot and exhaled the wispy smoke through his teeth. The tobacco burned in his chest like soup, relaxing the stress in his bones. It felt good to let loose for a minute.

He had a meeting with Zigfried again this evening, this time at the Supreme's crib, to discuss what their next plan of attack was. The procrastinating part was what irked Supreme the most. All this waiting and shit meant little to nothing to him because he wasn't gaining anything until that little girl was supposed to be laid out. The roll of child murderer was going to be handled by yours truly and he wanted that shit on full display for that motherfucker Atem to see.

Such a damn shame. She's a pretty little thing.

Glossy laminated pictures sat by his armchair on a round red wood tabletop. There were several of them, each capturing a distilled moment in time that enhanced her gorgeous face more so then the last. The saying is a picture is worth a thousand words, but in Supremes' opinion, true beauty was priceless.

He took another drag of his cigar and tapped it on the marble ashtray.

His home was in the neck deep in the minority portion of Domino City, a piece of history that has long since been forgotten. On the outside, his home was a true legacy of mother Italy. It was enormous, extravagantly majestic, commanding eyes as far as Domino City Tower. It was two stories tall, with a winding reddish gold brick path leading to the front entrance, which was sheltered beneath an overhead balcony. The structure was made of white plaster stone and rust brown shingles on the roofs and windows. Potted palm trees guarded the way up the ten wide stone stairs and the large master doors.

Supreme enjoyed the view of his lands from his balcony, lounging in one of his reclining beach chairs. The scent of food started to whiff in his nose. Mother of Jesus that woman could cook. His wife was probably up to her neck in making Penne all'arrabbiata, sprinkled with diced Pancetta seasoned in red spices, garlic bread smothered in warm butter and white cream cheese, and mashed potatoes.

"Il mio amore, dinner is ready," said a voice softer then angel wings.

Ushio Tetsu Senior rose up to his feet and stretched his six-foot five frame. His wife, a petite and thickly curvy woman of Mexican descent, stood in the doorway with long black hair plaited in a low ponytail. She was wearing her favorite flora apron, pink tank top and blue jeans, bare foot.

Esperanza Isabella Tetsu may be smaller, but she was the only person in the world not intimidated by her husband's stature. He had a thick, finely combed goatee, brown damp curly hair parted down the middle. He was wearing a winter green linen button-down shirt and dark tan linen trousers. Supreme locked his brownish red eyes on his wife and for a while, nothing else mattered.

If for no one else, he'd assuredly get revenge for having to witness this woman break down and wept over their son's dead body. Make no mistake. Hell was going to unleash like a tidal wave over Domino City soon. Very soon.

Duke is always diligent in his line work. Always have been always will be. Nothing missed his sharp jade eyes. He counted six cars, a rundown red and cream 1996 Ford Pick Up, a beat up dirt brown 1981 Station Wagon and a rusted 1990 royal blue Camaro to her left. To his flank were two mustangs lined along the curb, one a red 2001 and the other a yellow 1989 and the last car about several meters off furthest from the rest was a 2002 Silver Pontiac.

Seven men and two girls were hanging around the curbs and empty lots posted as Red Eye runners to the frequent visitors. Bagmen were stationed on each angled post, two pushers parked on the curb and three other casually dressed guards keeping watch of where the merchandise was being sold. Keeping supervision over both territories was a full time jig; one he wished wasn't so damn strenuous.

He drove around in a 2012 off white Civic Sedan, scooping out the activities of the streets, keeping an eye out for recruiters peddling around for teenagers out past curfew. He kept a clipboard on hand for every citizen seen outside of Medium Territory and recorded their whereabouts at exactly what time, their current location as well as who they were seen with. If by tomorrow morning they weren't reported back home by whatever patrol had that sector, Duke would call it in to Pegasus and have an investigation set forth to find that person.

It was a busy line of work, but Duke couldn't complain about the pay. He was earning what most the kids in his school wouldn't make until retirement and then some. He reached McGregor and Lafayette Grove, did a U-turn in the dead end and swirled back to finish off his route. He had another three hours before his shift was taken over. After checking out the same few people, Duke turned his car into a gap between two adjoining, abandoned buildings.

He turned off the ignition and hobbled out of the driver's seat, and sat lazily on the hood of his car, hands anchored between his knees and the tip of his white and black Chicago Bulls's hat pulled low over his eyes. He was practically an eyesore, wearing his white skinny Levi's, white C-neck Henley shirt and white high top Converse shoes. There wasn't a point with blending in since everyone knew he was a patroller for the Mediums.

With no action going on besides the typical business ventures, Duke was bored out of his mind. He sighed and leaned back on his hands, looking up at the dawning sky. This was punishment. It had to be. Pegasus was tripping on his high horse about something, and poor Duke was on the wrong end of that madness, having to work these extra hours right after school. He hadn't had time to go to basketball practice or spend time with his boyfriend, Trevor Williams.

Speaking of whom, Duke was currently skating on thin ice with. They hadn't had a chance to hook up in weeks. The lack of time and constant late night nights were wearing on their relationship. Trevor, being the sarcastic ass he was, threatened on several occasions to spend more of his time with baseball then Duke the next time he had free time, just to see how he liked being neglected.

All this damn stress was draining. Duke finally caved in to his fatigue and leisurely leaned back against his windshield, closing his eyes. He tried to take his mind elsewhere, away from the funky atmosphere of drug dealers and paper wrappers. He reached in his pocket for a stick of bubble gum, unwrapping the colorful yellow and blue coating before popping it his mouth.

Oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah
I get a feeling that I never never never never had before, no no
I get a good feeling, yeah
Oh oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah
I get a feeling that I never never never never had before, no no
I get a good feeling, yeah

Fuck. Should've expected this.

Duke sat up, whipped out his cell and glided his thumb across the glass screen. "Yeah," he answered, dully.

"What kind of excuse are you gonna preach to me this time? You working late, you gotta arrest somebody or you just forgot that today was my birthday." Trevor's monotone voice man never failed to sooth Duke's irritation. Even if he was angry, it didn't keep Duke's lips from stretching in wide grin.

"First of all, it's not your birthday. Nice try on that one, and its excuse number one," Duke said. "That's a nice hello, babes. You missin' me already?"

". . . I haven't had much time to see you, kiddo," chuckled Trevor. "Doesn't sound like you miss me as much as I miss you."

"'Course I miss you! You're all I think about when I'm out here in these slums. I love my chocolate thunder."

"Mm, well your chocolate's gonna melt if you don't eat it soon."

Who was he telling? "Babe, give me until about eleven to come see you—"

"Eleven?" Trevor shrieked. "Eleven? Damn Duke, that's the fourth time since last week." Duke heard him suck his teeth over the phone. He gulped back the laugh buried in his throat that he knew would piss his boyfriend off further. It was just sexy to hear him get mad though.

"You make me sick you know that?" Trevor continued. "I cooked all this shit, thinkin' you'd come over. You said you were coming over! Fuck!"

Duke snickered behind his fist. "Chill out, will ya? I'm still comin'. It's just gonna be a little late. Whatcha' cook for me anyway?"

"Your favorites, stupid. Cabbages, candied yams—you know how long it took to peel that shit?—macaroni with extra cheese, fried pork chop—mind you I marinated this since yesterday, and an apple pie with whipped cream."

Duke groaned hungrily. "God, I love you, but damn. You couldn't wait until I got there to fix all that. It's gonna get cold."

"So what? I'm already putting it in the fridge."

"Can you fix me a plate?"

"Nope, ain't anything wrong with your hands. Fix the shit yourself."

"Whoa, ease up on me, will ya?" Duke spat his hum on the ground and hopped off the car to pace on the sidewalk. "Why you got an attitude with me, huh? You make it seem like it's my fault I'm out making paper."

"I'm not sweatin' you about what you do, Duke! It's the principle of everything. When you make a promise to me I expect it to be kept! The logic ain't that damn hard to figure out!"

Just as Duke turned on his heel for the next rotation in front of his car, his green eyes did a quick double take straight ahead. His eyes narrowed as thin as switchblades. There, if he wasn't mistaken, were two foreign hustlers dipping between the buildings across the street. That wouldn't have put Duke on guard had it not been for the shade of blue peeking from underneath their shirts. Either these two were newbies in the area, or incredibly fucking stupid to be wearing those colors in this part of town. You so much as sneezed in a blue napkin; you'll be filled with bullet holes.

Duke's eyes grew three sizes too big for his face when he saw the pair stall at the end, wave and suddenly a Cadillac pulled up.

It was full of both red bloods and blue bloods. What in the hell was going on? This knee deep into Red Eye Territory and this kind of shit was happening.

"Babe, baby shut up!" Duke's voice sliced through Trevor's ranting like butter. "Listen, I need to call you back. We'll talk about this later. Love you."

"Duke—"

He hung up before Trevor could start catch his breath. Duke hit speed dial.

The noise of the phone's continuous ringing didn't do anything to calm Duke's nerves.

Pegasus finally picked up. "What is it?"

Duke cupped the phone to his ear. "You won't believe what I just saw." He said, pacing again. "A grey Cadillac Deville, probably a '98 or '99, came up here packed with red and blue bloods."

". . . You're not serious."

"As a heart attack, sir. I thought it was strange too, but all of them just hopped in the car and headed off East."

Duke could tell the wheels were screeching in his employer's head. Pegasus made a growling sound in the back of his throat and said, "Follow them. Take down the license plate number, get their names, addresses, everything. Learn what you can and report back. I'll take care of the rest on my end."

"Will do," Duke hung up. He smacked the phone to his forehead and stared heaven bound. Looks like he wasn't going to be keeping that eleven o'clock promise either.

"So, you hold the bat like this and it's better to keep your upper torso twisted. Since you're a girl, they have to do a little more. You keep your feet planted firm on the ground. No matter what you do, keep them flat. It'll keep you focused in one direction. Keep your eyes on the target at all times. See, the ball will come from this way where the pitcher's mound is. Always check for his hand signs. He'll try to sneak a few to the catcher behind you. If you can identify all the hand gestures you'll get an idea of what kind of ball they'll throw. You getting all this?"

Yugi and Kisara were in the middle of the playground, with a plastic bat in her hands. Yugi circled her five times; poking her in places she needed to correct and giving praises where it was due. He hadn't stopped talking about his passion since she asked him what his favorite hobby was. His mouth ran like a marathon, explaining the sport from start to finish, the rules and regulations and his favorite team and players.

The entire time Kisara was grazing up at Yugi with bright eyes, nodding fervently. "Can I swing like this or do I have to wait until the pitcher says so?"

Another one of his famous qualities was patience. He was sure he'd explained this part twice before, but wouldn't mind doing it again.

"No, you swing as soon as he throws the pitch. Watch me." Yugi ran a few feet over to a hill of sand. There was a bucket of foam balls Yugi retrieved from a toy compartment made for the children to use whenever they needed extra equipment to play with. He collected three, shoving two in his back pocket and positioned himself at the ready. "OK, Kisara, eyes on me. Wait, until I throw the ball and just when its in reach, you swing. Got it?"

"OK!" Kisara stomped her feet in the dirt and wiggled the plastic bat in her hands. She was ready. "You watching me, Daddy?"

Atem waved from the swing set. "Do good, baby girl!"

"Ready?" Yugi hunkered down, thinning his eyes. His mouth set into a firm line. Silence overcame the air, Yugi watching Kisara and Kisara watching Yugi. The tension burst. Yugi slid his foot, wound his arm back and flung it forward. The ball was coming at an impressive eighty-eight miles per hour. It was half way to her when he realized his mistake. He'd just performed a fast pitch to a five-year-old child. Foam ball or not, the strength behind it could render her unconscious.

Yugi yowled at the top of his lungs when there didn't seemed to be an end to the ball's speed.

"Duck Kisara!"

Kisara frowned, confused. She lowered the bat, the round object sailing straight for her forehead. Atem leapt to his feet. Yugi panicked, fear powering his feet into overdrive.

Yami was by her in seconds. He caught the ball in his right hand before it made contact and squeeze the spin to a standstill. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kisara wide eyed and awe blazing. "Ya good?" he asked.

She nodded numbly.

"That was amazing!" Yugi ran over as he strained his eyes to see the sharp pitch tamed in Yami's hand. The way he caught it without preparation was remarkable. Even Yugi would have to be on full guard to catch anything coming more than eighty-five mph. When he looked up with a slacked-jaw expression, Yami was carefully tossing the ball up and down in his hand. "You caught that—and you didn't even—it was coming so fast—and she was nearly—wow!" He was cheery as a baby boy in a toy store. "Where you'd you learn to catch like that?"

Yami looked at him strangely. "I thought I told you I played baseball for a minute. I was co-captain."

"You were? Where? When do you play? You gotta teach me how to catch like that!"

Atem's laughter thundered from behind. "Listen to him, you'd think somebody said you shitted gold. By the way, Young Buck." Atem smacked Yugi on the back of the hand so hard he felt the vibrations in his feet.

"What the hell?" Yugi shrieked.

"Watch what you're doin' next time, fool." Atem smacked him a second time, ignoring Yugi's outcry, before saying, "Yami played at Domino High."

Yugi rubbed over his sore head.

Yami chuckled despite himself. "We both did, around the same time as Heba. I played co-captain to his captain."

"They nicknamed him Black Jack," Atem went on to say. "Other teams never saw 'em coming for any of the games. Who was the coach back then? I forget his name. Anyway, Coach never wanted anyone seeing Yami catch or pitch because he feared he'd be recruited early."

"Did you play baseball too?" Yugi asked.

"Hell, no. Basketball's more my thing. Point guard number twenty-six." Atem feigned a free shot from where he was standing. "I played for a couple of years, but that was about it."

"Were you any good?"

"Was I? Shit, you better ask somebody. Who you think put those trophies in the front office? Sure as hell wasn't Duke."

Yugi thought on that a moment, working out the calculations in his head. "Wait, you won the state championships for '98 and '99?"

"One and the same."

"Wow," Yugi smirked, impressed. "So why didn't either of you consider going pro?"

"Grades," they both said at once.

"But." That didn't make sense to Yugi. "If you were able to play for even a year, you kept your grades up somehow didn't you?"

Atem lowered his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't going to school, just to go. My father invested money in a few of the folks there. It was my job to keep an eye on the merchandise. Everything in between was just extra."

Yugi stared at him for a beat before withdrawing a step. "You dealt drugs in the school," he confirmed with little else.

"I said I kept an eye on the merchandise," Atem sternly corrected.

"We don't deal," Yami added in, voice an extra baritone to Yugi's ears. "The runners take care of that bit. We keep order."

"You did it too?"

"No," Yami pointedly looked at Atem this time, gaze intense and thin. He managed an impassive face while keeping the disgruntled base in his voice. "I had other priorities to take care of."

"Indeed, you did," Atem lowered his voice in a careful emphasis that there may be a disagreement brewing. "How else were you to qualify as a blue blood if we didn't think you take care of business?"

The undeniable shock muted Yugi's ears from the moment of hearing that statement, the steady building roar steadily growing. Yugi tried to catch Yami's eye, but the Red Eye's leader was employed with burning a hole in Atem's head.

Yugi shook his head stunned. "You, Yami, you—you never told me."

Yami dragged his eyes away and looked hard at Yugi. "Should I be obligated to tell you everything? What difference would it have made?"

"None, I just," it would've been nice to know, maybe to learn a little bit more about you, Yugi would've said if it was for this stupid frog in his throat. He cleared his throat as the excessive staring became too much for him to ignore. Yugi decided that silence would work best in his favor. He wanted to say something, but words failed him. It always seemed to land on him being the oddball out between these two. Was it his fault he was out of the loop?

"Whatever, forget it. I don't wanna know anyway." Yugi kicked at a rock, ambled over to the swing set, and grabbed the one closest to the left bars. He needed some space, partially to escape the humiliation of giving a damn about Yami's past and partially to get some air from the stifling tension between those two. Guess he shouldn't have it expected to be that easy. No one could forget his or her bitter conflict like that in one day. He'd have to be a total nut to think it was possible.

The neighboring rubber swing to his right creaked and jingled. "You know," Atem started as he sunk into the rubber saddle. "It's a wonder, he could ever keep company with the way he treats people."

"Yeah," Yugi could definitely agree with that. He withheld a sigh of frustration. "It's impossible to get close to someone who keeps their walls up. How does a guy like that make friends?"

"Easy, he doesn't. With all he's been through, Yami has every right to keep his defenses. They've never failed him."

Oh. Oh yeah. Some of the angry sizzled away. Yugi had forgotten about that. The small piece of Yami that he had shared with Yugi . . . the youth shook his head. He was getting greedy. Just because Yami shared one of the most intimated secrets of his past, did that automatically make Yugi entitled to the rest of his secrets?

Now, he felt lousy. "I hate shoving my foot in my mouth." He sighed. "Should I apologize?"

"You might, you know Yami isn't gonna. The bastard's got the head of a bull."

Speak of the devil.

Yami was coming over with Kisara in tow, not holding her hand. She was trailing behind like a little duckling.

Yugi felt his breath coming short, his eyes squinting as though to deny himself sunlight. He swallowed the closer the man came, no stagger in his stride or unbalanced poise. Was there anything that fazed him? Does he always try to keep his cool when deep down Yugi knew he wanted to be angry? What did Yami have to lose by showing his emotions? Didn't he know it was OK to show what he was feeling?

Yugi glanced at him sideways and then sighed, and faced Yami fully. It was now or never. "I'm sorry," he gestured with his hands. "I shouldn't have pried like that. If you ever feel like telling me anything, I don't mind listening. You've listened to me lots of times." Yugi smiled small. "If you can trust me enough to."

Yami's facial expressions revealed a little dent in his composure. He leaned his back against the reclining poll and folded his arms. His mouth morphed into a frown line. "I've given enough of myself to you as proof that I'm willing to try. Understand it won't be easy. There are things about myself I'm not proud of. So, I'd rather not share."

Yugi was afraid to interrupt because this was the most he could remember squeezing out of the Red Eyes leader. He wasn't much of a conservationist.

"Sharing is caring," Kisara said, dissecting the quiet atmosphere. "My teacher, Ms. James, says you gotta share 'cause that means you care." She nodded wisely and looked up at her father's stunned expression. "She says you can make friends that way too. Mr. Sad Eyes you gotta share yourself to make friends and then they can care about you. Right, Daddy?"

"Erm, nah baby girl, you're on your own with that one." Atem chuckled sheepishly. "I ain't got a clue what you're talkin' about."

Kisara cupped her hands on her narrow hips. "You have to pay attention to the words coming out of my mouth, Daddy. That's what you always tell me."

"That's because Daddy has a lesson behind everything he tells you," he winked, and reached out for her. She shuffled over and stood between his legs. "You think Mr. Sad Eyes should share what he's feeling to us?"

She nodded. "Yep, that way he won't look so sad anymore. He can have eyes like Yugi does."

Yugi blushed awkwardly, a little warm around the ears.

"Sharing isn't easy for me, little one," Yami quietly murmured. "I don't have a lot of myself to spread before I'm used all up."

Kisara smiled. "Then you gotta find the right people you like to share their selves with you. That way it's an even trade."

Yami blinked rapidly, set back in his usual quiet self. He chanced at glance at Atem to see him staring intently with a cool, proud smirk on his face.

"Outta the mouths of babes," Atem shrugged helplessly, though he didn't look the part of a defeated parent. Quite the opposite; he looked very proud of his little girl's wisdom. "Whatcha' gonna do?"

"I think we should work on figuring where she gets that mouth from. Seriously, where does she get this stuff?" Yugi said. "There's definitely a thirty-year-old woman in there."

"Amen." Atem said, appeased at the 'we' part.

Yami licked his lips. He had to find his tongue to say something, or somehow convey the overwhelming sensations bubbling in his gut. Being around these people, it was so foreign for him to feel even remotely like there could be a connection. For a child to say something so simple . . . was it really that easy.

If only a little. . .

Yami fell away from his perch, kneeling down into the dirt. He held out his hands and looked up at Atem. The Blue Eyes leader firmed his grasp on Kisara a moment, cautious, and then secondly let her go. Kisara walked over to Yami's outstretched hands. His darker, larger, calloused hands enveloped the tenderly fragile appendages as if they'd crumble to ashes.

He leaned forward, holding Kisara's eyes and stilling his gaze when Kisara leaned in as well as if to be let in on a secret. He moistened his lips again, breathing unsteadily. Someone flawed, blemished in spirit and mind, with only a piece of their heart left intact, was it so simple?

He squeezed her hands the same time he felt a supportive clap on his shoulder. Yugi knew it was something he needed, especially at a time like now.

"Is sharing really worth it?" Yami said calmly, ignoring the incredulous buzz in his own veins warning him not to go down that route again. "Why should I give all that's left of me away?"

"Not giving away, silly. It's sharing because they can give it back." Kisara wiggled her fingers in his grasp. "I can share myself too. You can share yourself with me, OK?"

Yami met her eyes fully where they'd been drifting away.

"So you won't be sad anymore. Sad people need hugs. Can I hug you?"

Yami sharply inhaled, chest constricted, air lunged where the cork wedged in his chest. Kisara squirmed her hands loose and the petty pat of her baby doll shoes echoed one by one, each other than the last in the slowest motion. Her arms rose and fell around his neck. Breathing became difficult. Yami wasn't sure he could remember. It was all blurry, his throat was drying, his fingers clenched and flexed, clenched and flexed in this dire desire to offend himself.

She wasn't a threat, she wasn't a threat, and he chanted until the mantra was all he heard and her racing heartbeat.

Kisara held that position for a minute before stepping back. "Feel better?"

Yami's sigh sounded like rattling paper. The tension released in his muscles, a ligament at a time, before he collected his face. "Yes." Yami hadn't ever thought it could be so easy to worm through his barriers by bashing straight on. Kisara didn't use brunt force. A tender touch and a soft feminine touch was what it took. He'd never experienced such a thing.

Heedless to say, he would still need time to gain any kind of trust, especially towards Atem.

Yet, if his rival was willing to accept a fifty-fifty chance, could Yami?

"Why don't we make this a little easier on ourselves and start off fresh for the lot of us." Atem stood up from his saddle and joined the others. "Come to my place," he landed a hand on Yugi's shoulder, stirring a stunned violet eye upward. "We'll have dinner, chat, watch a little TV and go from there."

Yugi beamed. "I think that's a great idea. Yeah, sure we can all meet up and hang out together."

Yami stood as well. "Lest you forget who I am?" He turned to the side and tapped his exposed shoulders. RES tattoos landscaped his flesh from joint to joint. "I'm not about to waltz into blue blood lands. If one your fools so much as look at me cross eyed, I'm blazing the streets," he said, menacingly serious.

"You think I can't handle my men?" Atem accused calmly. "Who you think runs who? If I say you're welcome into my home, that's what it'll be."

"You can't really expect me to walk into the lion's den. I mean, just like that?"

"What I'm expecting is you to take this step forward and away from this rivalry, Yami!"

"Guys, guys come on," Yugi shoved his way between them before the situation turned worst. Yugi pressed his hand to their chests, pressing outward. "Can't we at least try, Yami? What do you have to lose? There's so much to gain."

Yami said nothing, stubbornly looking to the side.

"Yami, please?" Yugi stressed softly, turning fully to the solitary man. He used two hands instead of one to palm Yami's shoulders. "I'd like to. I wanna see you for who you could be instead of this hard shell you portray of yourself."

Still quiet, still brooding, still cautious, Yami lifted one hand and crushed Yugi's left one in a death grip.

It hurt. Yugi squirmed, feeling bones grind and creak beneath the powerful clasp. He in took a sharp breath, shutting his eyes against the bone-cracking agony.

A warm embrace landed on top of his and Yami's. The two glanced behind. Atem was there, tall, imposing, looming and just existing. His fingers braided over Yami's loosening the hold he held over Yugi until the cooling blood flow rushed in.

"Try," he said. "That's all I'm asking Yami. For me, for Kisara, and for Yugi, he's begging you to give it a shot."

Yami ground his teeth together, closing his eyes to the reasoning tone.

"I'm beyond sick of this feud. I wanna be done with it. Red spills blue, blue spills red, when's this shit gonna end?" Atem sighed. "Every day we walk outta the house, thinking how we're gonna fuck up the other man's day. You ain't getting tired of it too?"

"It's all I know," Yami deep moaned like a wounded animal. "I don't know how to do anything else 'cept protect myself. Get to them before they get to me."

Yami was shaking. Yugi couldn't believe it. This tall, terrifying villain of South Domino was trembling. Yugi felt every jolt beneath his palm. It was unreal, knowing this man had a fear.

"It doesn't have to be like that," Yugi whispered. "You can try, please try, trust me, and trust him. You said you'd share yourself with Kisara. Give us that opportunity too."

Yami shook himself free. He needed some space. He needed to think. "Don't, just no, I don't know. I can't do this now. I need to go." Turning on his heel, Yami started to his car.

"Yami!" Yugi was tugged back before he could go after the older male. "Why?" he questioned his captive.

"Baby steps, Young Buck. Baby steps. Yami will come around on his own time. We gotta give him his space. Piling too much on him could make 'em break."

"But," Yugi stopped struggling and looked on to the departing figure, mourning the stupid loneliness he didn't want the man to suffer from. "Will he be OK?"

"Yami's skin's tougher then mine. He'll live." Atem checked his side pocket when his phone buzzed. He read the text, puzzled and responded, replacing it back in his pocket. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Yugi hesitated. He was ready to go, not until he saw Yami duck inside his car and drive down the street. Seeing him go, Yugi couldn't get comfortable with seeing him go alone. . .

"Come on," Atem urged again and called out for Kisara to join them to his car.

The two at long left the park with complicated thoughts. Yugi, as soon as he reached Atem's car, had decided he was about to chance his life once more by visiting Yami.

. . . And Atem needed to go investigate some dangerously, disturbing details, such as why some new cats were roaming around on his turf.

TBC: Will proofread tomorrow. Gooood night!