Real sorry for the late update, people. I have a three month old baby, college, and two other stories I'm working on at the moment. XD I really need to stop being such a workaholic...
Chapter 4: The Memory Never Meant to Be
The pale girl, now named Aleah by Yami, cocked her head to the side with her lips pinched. The movement struck a chord in the spirit and he couldn't help but think it was familiar. Words such as 'orchid lips' came to his mind, and he began to admire her face as the moon. He shook himself when he heard a load moan come from Yugi.
"Yugi, are you all right?"
"Ow, Ow, Ow, the drawers in my stomach!"
His grandfather spared little time in pulling the blocky, black register off his grandson. Yugi took a gulp of air once it was off which ended in a cough. Paper bills and coins decorated him like a player from a game show.
As spirit and grandfather alike gathered around Yugi, Aleah acted as though to shake off a thought from her mind and made her way around the counter, looking concerned. She stopped, however, to put a hand to her head again. She looked to Yami again, who couldn't help but meet her eye, and her expression changed.
"You?" she whispered.
"You know me?" Yami backtracked. "Wait—you can see me?"
Yugi was hauled back onto his feet, raining currency down his front. "She can see you?"
"See who?"
"Yami, grandpa. I think she can see Yami."
The old man blinked so hard his thick eyebrows met the top of his cheeks. "Girl, are you some sort of…sort of physic or something?"
"Aleah." whispered Yami. "Her name is Aleah."
"Wait, you know her?"
"Know who?"
Yugi gave an exasperated sigh. "Yami thinks he knows her. Says her name is Aleah."
"You know me?" pressed Yami, excited beyond reason. He brought himself closer to her even when she stepped back at his approached. "Please, tell me, do you know my name too?"
But something strange was happening to her. Her pale cheeks had become flushed with frustration and she had her hands to her head as though in pain. Blue eyes squinted out through creases of confusion.
"I—please, no. Go away."
But Yami hardly heard this. "You have got to tell me! What do you know? Please, tell me!"
"No! Yugi, make him go away! I don't like him. I don't like this!"
But the spirit went on nonetheless. "Why don't you like me? Please, just tell me-"
She tucked her head beneath her arms in a wail. "Yugi!"
"You're scaring her!" cried Yugi, "Just come back into the puzzle for now."
"No! She knows something! I know she does!"
But as Aleah gave another wail of dismay, arms about her head, Yami became unsure.
"It's probably best if you give her some space for now." said Yugi.
"Yes, maybe."
"What in the world is going on here?" said his grandfather as Yami reluctantly faded back into the puzzle.
"I'll explain later." He said as he hurried to her side. She had by now sunk down the wall behind the counter and broken down into sobs. Yugi's hands hovered about her, unsure of what to do. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, so he couldn't quite say how to comfort her.
"Aleah—"
"Where am I?" she sobbed. "All these images—memories—where am I? What time is this?"
"Time?" Solomon glanced at his wrist. "I believe it's about a quarter after four."
"No!" she cried. "No! What time. What time! And what is this place?"
Yugi was growing more flustered by the moment. "It's okay, Aleah, calmed down. Everything is okay now. Yami is back in the puzzle. What do you mean by time? Do you mean the year, Aleah?" somehow repeating her name made him feel like he was getting closer to her, maybe even close enough to wrap his arms about her and comfort her. But in her state, he wasn't sure physical touch would help.
"I—I'm not sure. Yes, year. Year!"
"It's 2008."
"Two…two…"
"May. May 10th."
"May…" she murmured, as though it was a calming balm. "May…May…but wait, where am I? What place is this?"
"Well, it's a game shop. Kame game sho-"
"No! Country—city—state—"
"Japan. Tokyo, Japan."
Her eyes snapped open and she gave him a very alarmed look.
"J-Japan!?"
"Yeah."
At that, she fell over in a dead faint upon him. Yugi held her, somewhat glad she had at least calmed down, and looked up at his grandfather, who looked beyond bewildered.
"What in the world was that about?"
"I don't know, grandpa. I'm really just about as lost as you are. I think she remembered something though. And she doesn't seem to like Yami much anymore, for some reason."
The old man snorted. "That is obvious enough. Take her to the living room and set her down."
"What about when she wakes up? What do we do then?"
"We'll figure that out when it happens. We can only take this one step at a time." He examined the passed out girl with a softening expression. "At least we have a name for her now. Aleah. Maybe it can give us a lead as to where her poor parents are."
As Yugi slung the girl onto his back and carried her to the couch, Yami reappeared with an anxious burst of sound.
"Why would she want to know the year?"
"Why are you asking me?" he said to the spirit. "You're the one usually answering my questions."
"And she knows me Yugi—she knows who I am! I know she does. But how can that be? I've never met anyone like her since my awakening, so how could she know me?"
"It all sounds very sci-fi to me." A thought occurred to Yugi as he crouched down and allowed the soft girl to slide off his back and onto the couch. "Yami, do you think there is such a thing as time travel?"
"Yes, but even if she did travel from ancient Egypt where she knew me, how would she know Japanese?"
"Not to mention how she doesn't even look Egyptian—or Japanese, for that matter." Yugi looked at her carefully. "Where would you say she is from? Europe? I know it's somewhere in the west."
"You would know more on this than I." said Yami reluctantly. The Pharaoh's gaze also drifted across the girl's face. Pale as the moon, lips like orchids—these thoughts brought a strange sense of déjà vu to him. Though, the girl was beautiful. A strange feeling stirred within his chest, making him uncomfortable. He didn't like being uncertain of his feelings. He always knew of his emotions, at least, if not his memories. "How did I know her name, Yugi? I feel that I know her but…I don't."
"Again, no need to ask me. I'm the least likely to know."
The spirit raised an eyebrow at his host. "You're not still angry with me, are you?"
"No. I'm just worried. I'm sorry if I sound snappish."
"It's all right, abiou. You are right, I probably shouldn't be asking all these questions to you."
"It is somewhat unlike you." And the younger boy smiled at this. "Usually I have to bend over backwards to get you to voice your thoughts. So, I guess, I shouldn't be complaining."
"It's just…Yugi, I knew her name. She asked, and then suddenly I knew. And I was so sure she knew mine too—my real name. Not just Pharaoh." As though there were an invisible throne in the air, the spirit leaned back and crossed his legs and arms. "It was her I sensed up in the mountain. Something is happening."
"Something good, I hope?"
"I hope so too."
Yugi folded his hands in his lap. He couldn't help but notice how awfully pale she looked. He wondered what had shocked her so much about hearing she was in Japan. And who was she? Who was Aleah? A time traveler of sorts?
When he saw her lashes begin to flicker, his stomach leapt.
"I think you should go back." Yugi said. "Until she's ready for you, that is."
The disgruntlement that sizzled through the link was loud and clear, but when Yugi looked over his shoulder it was to see nothing but air. Yami's eager impatience made him fidget even more as she opened her eyes.
I know her, he kept hearing. I know her. And she knows me.
Why did that make him feel so uncomfortable? He couldn't help thinking of how he had felt when Tea had brushed over him and gone to the Pharaoh instead. He suddenly began wondering about all those times when Yami and he had combined. Had it been him his friends had been seeing? Or had it been Yami?
For some odd reason, remembering how Aleah had cried out for him in her panic instead of Yami helped him feel a little better. It was nice to know that, even if it was for only a moment, someone needed him.
! #%$%*&^%$# #$%^&^$# !#%$^&%$# #%$^&
Writing sticks scratch in the brief silence Atem gave his scribes to catch up with him. Their bald heads gleamed in the sunlight streaming in from the balcony as they bent low over their short tables strewn with papyrus scrolls. As he waited, he glanced to the side at Aleah. Her ice blue eyes were staring past the scribes entirely to nothing in particular. They didn't even quiver, so deep in thought she was. For not the first time he wanted to know what it was she had to think so deeply about so often. Those eyes of hers held a sharp intelligence that intrigued him, and at the same time bemused him. Though she now went with him nearly everywhere he went as his own personal attendant, he knew little more to nothing on what she truly thought of her surroundings, for she only spoke when she absolutely had to. It had only been a week since he—as was expected—crushed her in their little gamble. She didn't even last five minutes, let alone ten. It amused him that she had ever thought herself a match for a master of games such as he. As was his word, he sent her down to the kitchens to serve, part of him hoping that the kindness of the old cook would protect her useless inability to understand Egyptian.
But, of course, two nights later, the cook himself had brought her back up to him with fresh whip marks on her skin. She was like a useless puppy no one with a heart could spurn, and yet still annoying with its bad puppy habits.
He spotted the faded gleam of her brass chains and frowned. One would think his kindness would have opened her up to him. He hadn't even gone on his first threat of dressing her down to that of a common whore. Not only that, but he had honored her with the status of becoming his own personal slave—a position higher than most royal servants, let alone slaves. But, if anything, her words had only gone under lock down once more.
The scribes were staring pointedly at him. He cleared his throat. How long had he been lost in thought?
"Thus is my reasoning for declining the request to legalize the hunting of the river monsters hippopotamus, though should any citizens or personages belonging to foreign lands should ignore this decree and get killed in the unfortunate event of finding themselves clamped in the jaws of the beasts, I, nor anyone else, can take responsibility for the false choice of said citizen."
By the gods, this was boring.
Now and then as he took brief breaks to allow the scribes to catch up and to take a drink of water, he'd peek over at Aleah. Only a few times did she even show signs of life, either to move a piece of her pale hair or to adjust her ankles. Other than that, her eyes still looked off as though seeing another world entirely. She was like a statue. The urge to reach out and touch her and startle her out of her revere, like touching still water, occurred to him more than once.
A half hour later, he had had enough.
"I believe that's good enough. You are dismissed."
"But sire, the wheat shares—"
A sharp look from the Pharaoh and the man fell into an embarrassed silence. He bowed his shining head and left with the rest of his brethren, his tablet and supplies tucked securely under their arms. The snap of the door shutting made Aleah blink and look around as though waking from a dream. She sighed.
"What do you want, your highness?"
He flinched. She spoke! "What do you mean? And have I given you permission to speak?"
"No, but you keep looking at me as though you want to ask something. I merely wished to ease your mind, your majesty."
He grimaced. She had noticed? Perhaps he wasn't as coy as he thought he was. Though with her deadpanned voice she probably didn't care.
"I was…simply wondering what you were thinking. Finalizing laws and responding to the various letters is not the most entertaining of duties." When she didn't respond to this, but simply stared past him to the sunlight glowing off the polished floors, he asked, "What were you thinking about?"
Her strange eyes flickered to him briefly before looking back to the floor. "Just daydreaming. And I'm rather hungry...your majesty."
Atem frowned. What an ambiguous and unsatisfying answer if there ever were any. He looked at the sun on the floor, estimating the time by where it shone.
"Yes, it would appear to be about that time. I shall call for supper."
He raised his hand to call one of the servants hiding in the shadows, but hesitated.
"What would you like to eat?"
She twitched her head at him. "Excuse me? Your majesty?"
"To eat. What would you like to eat?"
She shrugged. Her apathy irked him. What had happened to that fire? The flashing passion in her eyes that lit up her face and made all her muscles taunt?
"Very well, you shall have nothing, then." he said, hoping to inspire something- anything, into that blank face.
To his dismay, she did nothing, just kept staring off into the distance with her creamy hands folded in her lap. He gestured the servant over and gave the man his orders before excusing him to the kitchens. His insides felt tight and near broiling with his own inner heat. He ground his teeth and excused the last servant in the shadows.
The girl made no sign to show she realized she was alone in the room with the Pharaoh. A grunt from him made her gaze flicker to him. But she said nothing, did nothing. Just looked at him.
"Why would you not tell me what you wanted?"
She inclined her head. "I didn't care, your grace."
"Did not care for what? I thought you said you were hungry?"
"Pharaoh, may I ask a question of his highness?"
"When you have yet to answer my own?"
"In a way it is an answer to yours."
He gave a huff of irritation. "Very well. I allow it."
"Why is it," at this her eyes rose to his, and for a minute he felt a thrill as he thought he could see a bit of sharpness to her gaze, perhaps the flint to her fire? The rest of her question squashed any elation he might've been feeling. "That you give so much attention to the wants of a lowly slave such as I? Why do you allow a slave to even speak to you? For frankly, it is demeaning to you."
His eyebrows lowered into an indignant scowl. "I am the morning and the evening star, I may do as I wish to who I wish and give my attention as I feel. Besides, it was I who put you in this position."
She shrugged—again! The aggravation! "Very well."
"Not very well, you have yet to answer my question."
"I did, your highness. I said I just didn't care."
He fumbled to cover up the way his stomach dropped to his feet. "I didn't mean that question."
"Then what question did you mean, your highness?"
"What were you thinking about?"
"Daydreams."
"Be more specific."
"You've got to be joking."
"The Pharaoh does not joke."
"I seriously doubt that."
The bubbling within him jumped to a searing boil. Was she mocking him? No, he would not stand for that. He had been lenient enough. Far too lenient, in fact. He had gone out of his way to be kind to her all blasted week, and did she now have the gall to not even notice? What kind of woman was this to completely ignore a king!
"Leave me this instant! Return to your place!"
The place he spoke of consisted of a large pillow in the corner of his chambers. She moved to get up, chains clinking, when she stumbled. He didn't even let a mere twitch pass him to help her, expecting her to catch herself. A split second later he was proven wrong as she tumbled from her place and onto the polished floor. Her hair spilled out into a patch of sunlight where it burned a white-gold. For the first time, Atem got a good look at her feet. They were bleeding, covered in sores, and raw from abuse as though she had tried to trek the hot, desert sands bare foot. Frayed, makeshift bandages, probably torn from the bottom of her skirt, were wrapped about the worst of the wounds.
She scrambled to hide them. White gold hair tugged back into the shadows.
"What—your feet…gods, what happened to your feet?"
When she said nothing but hid her face behind a curtain of hair, he approached her, both frustrated and, against his will, concerned. No wonder she had tripped. How had she walked so long without him noticing? Why hadn't she said anything.
He became impatient with her silence. "Answer me, Aleah."
"If you must know, it's those sandals you gave me, along with everything else. Since you took away my own shoes-"
He scoffed. "How could mere sandals do this to your feet? Let alone wearing nothing at all? Are your feet made of silk?"
She didn't respond to this, tucking her feet deeper beneath her and smearing faint lines of blood on the floor. He growled and crouched besides her, yanking them back out. This drew out a gasp of pain, which he did his best to ignore though it caused his stomach to leap. Carefully, he inspected them, brushing his fingers along the skin left unmarked. What he felt alarmed him: softer than silk without a callous in sight, like a babe's feet. A time or two the tip of his Millennium Puzzle dropped low enough to slide along her calf.
The wounds on such soft flesh suddenly sickened him. Without thinking, his fingers trailed around the cuffs to her ankles and up her calves, holding her when she tried to flinch away from his touch. Soft, silk-like skin all along the way.
"How have you kept your feet and legs so soft? Have you never worked a day in your life? But how can that be? Were you carried everywhere?"
Between the curtains of her long, somewhat tangled hair he spied her glower.
"Where I come from we just have a lot nicer shoes, your highness. And, since I don't know what you've done with mine…"
His fingers continued to trace her leg, carefully alighting upon the scant, uninjured skin of her feet in wonder. She kept starting back to pull her legs away, sucking in breath when he gripped hard around her injured ankle to stop her.
"I won't harm you." he said.
To his indignation, she raised her eyebrows skeptically, but wisely said nothing.
After summoning a physician through one of the guardsmen at the door, he considered her still crouched on the floor, trying to hide behind her great mane of hair. He shook his head. She looked a mess. Why hadn't he noticed any of this before? Had he simply never taken the time to look down? This bothered him more than he cared to admit.
When the physician came, followed by the guardsman who quickly swept up the girl in his arms, Atem sent them to his quarters with the key to her chains, leaving him alone to think over the strange, but fascinating softness of her skin. She was even more fragile than he had previously thought. How could she have been anything other than of the highest royalty? And if that was the case, he had quite the rarity for a slave. But only the best for the Pharaoh and demi-god of the world, and this set him grinning happily. Though, it was unlike him to not wonder to the purpose of this girl. Where exactly had she come from? And why had she come here of all places?
A knock came at the door to his meeting room and Set sidled in, expression troubled. Atem was quick to gesture his friend to him. Set bowed low at his feet.
"Your grace, a dire situation has occurred."
"Dire? Will I be surprised, though?"
Set lifted his head to give his cousin a weak smile. "Maybe only slightly."
"Well?"
"A few idiot magicians lost control of some Shadow Creatures. They are now causing chaos down at the marketing district." His eyes darkened. "But that's not the slightly surprising part."
"What is it then? That isn't bad enough?"
Set frowned. "There have been some…uncalled for attacks on some desert villages, your majesty. A few select people known to have Ka of sorts were taken, and the surviving villagers are blaming you. They say it was Egyptian soldiers that attacked them."
Atem's forehead furrowed and a twinge of unease grew in his gut. The report didn't sound extremely out of the ordinary, but the look on Set's face spoke of warning. "Do you know where these people were taken? Are you sure this wasn't merely procedure for the locking away of their Ka?"
"If they were, your grace, do you not think I would have returned them by now? Besides, if this were so there was no need to attack the villages."
The Pharaoh pinched the bridge of his nose. This was indeed something he couldn't ignore. And yet it seemed to mean nothing at all.
"Why am I only hearing this now?" he asked.
"Because I too thought it was just procedure, your grace. I thought it was just a little overzealous on the soldiers part and it was just a continuation of sealing more of the Shadow Games away."
"Do you have any guess as to what is behind this?"
"No, your grace."
"In that case, come back to me when you have more information. With what we have now I can't do much. See that these people are sent a proper apology today."
"Yes, your grace."
With this, Set straightened and left with a sweep of blue robes. Left to his own devices, Atem sighed heavily and looked up at the scenes painted across the ceiling.
"Seems of late no matter how hard I try," he muttered, "people are set on being cold to me."
! #$#^%$# $ $ %#
Scores of letters and numbers spilled across the screen, varying flashes of color against the blank white. Brackets closed in his commands. Commands that were blurring into one another. Seto Kaiba blinked hard. Perhaps another coffee break was needed. Rubbing his fingers into his eyes in attempts to reach the ache behind them, he stood and stretched. A digital clock in the corner of the end screen of the three monitors displayed 11:34pm. It was late. But Kaiba was only getting started. Nonetheless, Mokuba would probably not be pleased with him. They did, after all, still have school.
Why am I even in High School still, he thought blithely. I could have passed those measly exams in my sleep by the time I was twelve.
He certainly would get a lot more work done if that was the case. Originally he had stayed in school so as to give the front of being a mentally healthy teenager to the public as well as his stockholders. Being thought of as not being a fully socially developed person was not the best way of building trust. Not that he would even dare to think of those brats as being socially developed.
This was just getting ridiculous, though. Getting up at 6:30 just to sit around for eight hours doing nothing? And when he had deadlines to make, programs to oversee, hallucinating idiots who saw mainframes turning in to sarcophagi—stuff like that, to do. Perhaps he should reconsider 'graduating' early.
With a small groan, he made his way to the break room just outside his office. The hallway's bright lights and white walls made him wince after spending so long in his dark office. He moved by the scent of coffee beans.
He had just set his coffee to brew when he turned to find a very, very unwelcomed guest.
Swathed in white, linen robes, set with turban and all, stood an Egyptian with very unnerving, strange eyes. A golden ankh shaped key sat at a rest on his chest.
Seto didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. Instead, he folded his arms, leaned against the counter, and drew up his usual scowl.
"You." He said. "Come to spout nonsense, I suppose? Should I even asking how you got past security?"
"I have not come here to argue against your stubbornness." said the Egyptian. "I have come for your help."
Now this Seto had not been expecting. But that didn't change his response. He gave an annoyed grunt and turned back to check on his coffee.
"What is with you random Egyptians thinking you can demand help from me? What, are you going to ask me for a Duel Monsters tournament too? Forget it, I only did that once because it was I wanted to do, not that little bitch's idea."
"The stakes are much higher this time."
Kaiba snorted. "They always are."
"And it is not a tournament I seek. I am seeking a person: a young woman of great importance."
"Oh spare me." He snapped. "The police are who you are looking for. Get out of my sight or I'm calling security."
The Egyptian's eyes narrowed. Was that just him, or had the room's temperature dropped several degrees? He would have to talk to maintenance about that.
Brown fingers lifted up the strange golden key. "Seto Kaiba, you can either help me willingly or have your hand will be forced."
"Was that a threat?"
"This girl also affects you too, Kaiba. It is not just for me. Do you not wonder why strange items from the past have been replacing important objects in your company?"
Needles prickled up his back, sending the hair on his arms on end. He now had his attention.
"So she's the little conspirator then? Let me guess, she bribed my employees to play those stupid pranks, hoping to make a fool of me."
The man's eyes narrowed further. "Do not be foolish. She knows little to nothing of you. It is the time rift she has created which-"
"Spare me the details. Why can't you just find her yourself?" Seto eyed the man, from his golden key to his stony expression. "You don't seem like a man who has trouble finding who he needs."
"I don't." he said. "But she is different. She runs on her own plane of time, such as I, so I can only guess as to where she is. Since the time rift opened up near here, my only clue is that she is in this area."
"And you need me…?"
"You too are a man who does not have trouble finding who he needs. I will continue to search, but she must be found before she finds the Pharaoh."
Seto inwardly groaned. Always it had to do with that other face of Yugi's. This just had to be more of the hocus pocus he didn't have time for—even without school in the mix.
"Why don't you just go to the Pharaoh, then?" said Seto, beyond exasperated. "If that is who she is aiming for, she might already be there."
"You do not understand, Kaiba. He should not even be allowed to look at her. Just seeing her will ruin the time continuum—battles will come to the chosen one that he is not yet prepared for, the world may be ruined!"
"Yeah. Whatever."
"Please, I am begging of you—"
"No, you're leaving."
"Kaiba—"
The coffee machine dinged. Not stupid enough to turn his back on the man, crazy or not, Seto took out his coffee left handed and brought up the creamer with the other. He glared at the other while he lazily applied the creamer to his coffee. Sugar helped boost the caffeine's effect.
"If you have any sense," he said, setting the creamer down. "You'll get out of here while I'm feeling merciful. Whoever you are."
For the first time, the man's face change, showing a bit of frustration. This satisfied him. At least the idiot wasn't a robot. As he took the first sip of his coffee the man dropped his hold on his strange medallion and reached into his robes instead.
"Your mind will change." he said, and the lanky CEO tensed as he began to bring something out. A gun? He readied his hold on the hot coffee. Maybe he could throw it in the man's face and while he was distracted by the sting duck under and disarm him.
But it wasn't a gun he pulled out. It was a piece of paper. He set it gently on a side table by the door.
"We will meet again, Kaiba."
"Of course." said Seto with a roll of his eyes. It was another thing his strange Egyptian visitors often told him. Was it suppose to make them sound more mystical?
With that, the man turned and vanished into the shadows. Seto's free hand twitched towards his cell phone to call security, but a part of him knew the man was probably already gone. He had not met this one often, but every time he had a knack of vanishing when he needed to.
He finished his coffee and left without a glance to the paper the man had left for him. Let the janitors pick it up in the morning, he thought. Good riddance to those freaks. He was tired of their games.
On opening his door, however, that thought changed. The raw glow of his computer screens had vanished. In their place, showing faintly by the strips of city light allowed in through the blinds and the light from the hallway, was a tall, stone tablet. On its face he could make out a carving, but a carving of what he couldn't tell, and didn't care. He stepped forward and touched it, hoping it was a trick. Rough stone met his fingertips.
Not even sparing a breath for a curse he spun on his heel and dashed back into the break room. The paper felt oddly crinkled in his hand, as though it had gotten wet and dried once or twice. As he opened it, he took out his phone and called security.
"There's an Egyptian man in white robes in this building. No one is to let him out, you hear?"
As he heard the confirmation of the guard on the other end, he took in the picture of a girl on the page. She had curly, platinum blond hair and wide blue eyes. Something made him shiver at the sight of her face, and a familiar sense of déjà vu came over him.
Only one word crossed his mind when he re-entered his office to see the stone tablet begin to fade and his computers reappear.
Bastards.