This part of the story, for lack of a more sophisticated and exciting term, is a setup. Things are slowly coming to fruition with this one, and this particular series of scenes is one of those things that are necessary to set the stage for the "good stuff."

So it kind of jumps all over the place.

Hopefully, in spite of the fact that this chapter is a rough analogy for how my brain works on any given day, you find it to be entertaining. I mean, hey, it explores the relationship between Yugi and Yami in a way that I haven't seen done all that much. That's something, right?

All joking aside, have fun with this one. I did.


Verse One.


"He's…back?"

It was hard to read the expression on Yugi's face. It was enough like a smile that it might have meant happiness, but enough like a grimace that it might have meant physical pain. Joey thought he understood.

It was the look of…God this sounded wrong, but it was the look of an abused woman taking back an old boyfriend not because she thought he'd changed, but because he'd gotten out of jail and she still loved him. The metaphor wasn't perfect, but it was close enough to make it right fucking depressing.

And the bitch of it was that Joey understood. All too well. He'd missed the psychotic sonuvabitch, too. Damned if he hadn't, and damned if he hadn't realized it until now. It was like something had been missing for the past couple of years. Some twisted, codependent part of him sang that it was whole again upon seeing the Millennium Puzzle around his best friend's neck.

…Fuck.

"Yeah," Yugi said, lifting the puzzle. "He's back."

"Thought we got this beat," Tristan said, but he didn't sound all that disappointed, either.

"Wasn't he laid to rest?" Téa asked, and she actually sounded worried. Like they should have, but didn't. "I mean…wasn't this whole thing done and over with? You…you laid him to rest! We laid him to rest!"

"Guess not," Yugi murmured, not quite sulking but close. He looked up and half-smiled. "But…we'll just have to help him again."

And…yes. That was it, wasn't it? Just that fuck-all simple, wasn't it? Joey found a grin that he didn't want to find, as he realized that he didn't mind the idea so much. He really didn't. "You betcher ass," he said.

Tristan nodded. "Damn straight."

Téa was smiling.

And then Yugi was gone. Just like that, he wasn't there anymore. No fanfare, no glowing, no flashes of light or a sudden seizing of his muscles like he'd just been electrocuted. One moment he was himself, and then his face just…shifted. Like he'd turned to look at the window. Yami sat there, Atemhotep, the Big 3-4, and he looked…tired. The spirit looked at them all and found a half-smile, half-sneer of his own, but it wasn't like his usual cocky air of superiority. For the first time, he looked defeated.

Yami cleared his throat, coughing as if he wasn't prepared to speak. He composed himself and said, "I must thank you all for doing this. For this display of loyalty. I know now that you do this more for Yugi's benefit than for mine."

Téa started to speak. "No! That's not—"

"No. No. Don't say it. I thank you for it." Yami found a smile, and it actually looked like a smile, not a smirk. Joey suddenly felt cold. The man was being honest. For perhaps the first time since they'd met the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle—the Unifier, the Spirit King—he was being sincere. He was fucking sincere. "Yugi is far more deserving of your loyalty than I. And we all know it." His smile sharpened into a ghost of his usual expression, and Joey actually felt better. "Make no mistake. You can hide no secrets from me. Battered, broken, and out of practice as I am, I can still read you like books." He chuckled. It was quiet, subdued, but it stung. "But worry not. That is, as the scholars say, neither here nor there."

They stared, and Yami stood up. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he stepped around the table. "I am not here to lead the charge. To fight. I was given my chance to carry mayet, and I in my arrogance have failed." He did not sound bitter, but resigned. "I am here to serve as a guide. A warning. I am…fallen."

He grimaced, sighed, looked at them.

Was that…shame?

"Another will step in as the chief instrument of the gods. My time is done. I will be his test. His obstacle." He reached up with one hand and clutched the chain holding the Millennium Puzzle around his neck, as if it were keeping him upright. Maybe it was. "Pray with everything you have that he beats me this time. If he doesn't, the cycle breaks. And we all forfeit."

"Forfeit…what?"

The old fire blazed back into Atemhotep's wine-colored eyes, and the word seared into their minds.

"Everything."


Verse Two.


The switch.

With people like that, it's always the goddamn switch. Joey remembered telling Serenity about it once, when she hadn't understood why their mother's taste in men was so balls-up fucked abysmal. He'd said, "Ren, it's how we work. All assholes got us a switch." He'd touched the spot just above his right eye with one finger. "Right here. Call it the Fuck-You switch, pardon the language."

She'd smiled at that.

"Flip it one way, y'got your halfway decent sumbitch who tries. Goddamn it, does he try, and you know he's tryin', so you forgive the slips. Just try yer best, ain't that what they all say? Well, we got more reason to try than most, so when we flip that switch, we come out like saints."

Serenity had blinked then, clearly surprised with a shot of confusion tossed on like garnish or extra flavor. Joey'd flashed a grin. "That's the 'Off' position. If yer lucky, ya figure out how to flip it that way 'n duct tape it the fuck there."

"You're a regular poet, big brother."

"Yeah. Sorry. Old habits. Anyway, the real problem izzat the 'On' position...aw, hell. We turn that on when shit's gotta get done, y'know? But sometimes it comes on when ya don't want it, and that's when ya gotcher domestic disputes. Stupid shit like half-full salt shakers 'n collectin' old newspapers in the garage blow up into frickin' nuclear skirmishes. Ladies 'n gentlemen, we're at fuckin' Defcon 2. We turn into bulls, an' if we're lucky we got us a matador to distract us before we run horn-first into that fuckin' China shop."

"And Mom...she's a matador?"

Joey'd laughed. "Ma's the fuckin' cape. She tries like a sonuvabitch to get that switch flipped off, and she never seems t' notice the guys she picks out don't even have one anymore. They're stuck. Full throttle. She thinks she can fix it. But it ain't broken. It just plain ain't there."

He'd told his sister that he could think of three people off the top of his head like that: Dad (Granddaddy of 'em all, the drunk fuck), Kaiba, and Yami.

"...I don't know. I mean, Dad, sure. No question." She was saying that to be diplomatic. She didn't know the truth. Joey knew she didn't, and he loved her for saying it anyway. "But...Mister Kaiba? Yami? What about Mokuba, and Yugi?"

"They got remote controls're somethin'. I dunno Maybe the switches ain't broke, but they're sure's hell rusted."

Now Joey realized that his sister had been right. Yami did have a switch. And after his speech—cryptic like always, but ten times creepier than usual—he flipped it back On. Blink of the fingers, snap of the eye, that was it. Done. So quick it felt like a car slamming on the brakes at a red light that just popped out of nowhere like a chute of bamboo on crack.

Man, I'm just chock-full o' poetry, he thought, and found a rather psychotic-sounding chuckle.

But just the same, it was a kind of relief to see him back. Back to normal. Back to his default setting. Because Yami and somber were two things Joey didn't ever want to see again. Far as Joey was concerned, it was a sign of the Apocalypse. He said, "So…somebody else's gotta find the Millennium Items again?"

Yami nodded. "Indeed. The cycle begins anew, and I am no longer a catalyst."

"Do you know who is?"

The smirk that rose on Yami's face was entirely too familiar to be a mistake. He was really back. No more sullen defeat. No more dank depression. The man was back; the gambler was back. The batshit-crazy motherfucker who just happened to be on their side. Sure, Yami had his moments of nobility and chivalry, and every once in a while it was easy to forget this part of him, but for the most part…the man was a fucking loon.

Téa didn't see it near as much as Tristan did, and Tristan didn't see if half as well as Joey, who knew that look better than anyone: that look of cold, sharp need. That look that said, "Fuck you, world, I'm in it for me."

Yami was a gambler. At his core. He usually gambled for the right side; that much was true. But he was in it for the rush, for the game. He was in it for the challenge. He didn't care much one way or the other what was at stake, so long as the adrenaline was flowing. And Joey understood that, more than any of the others, because his entire early teens had been encompassed by that same mentality.

And fuck, it had felt good.

"I know," the spirit said, chuckling. "I know quite well. Whether he knows…well. That's the fun of it." He looked at the front door of the shop. He slipped a quarter out of his pocket and started flicking it in the air, like he was straight out of some "dark and edgy" comic book. He said, "I have answered the call of the gods. Now we prepare, and we wait for him to do the same. If my reckoning is correct…we will be waiting for some time yet."

"You gonna tell us who this guy is?" Joey asked, figuring he already knew the answer.

"That would ruin the surprise."

…Yep.

Goddamn it.

It was like it only took the man two minutes to adjust to a new existence. Like he'd been hammered with the realization only moments ago, and now that he'd vented about it, he was okay with it. Now that he'd set everything straight in his mind, he was back to his old self.

"You figure it'll take a while for this guy to show up?" Joey asked. "Or...girl. Whatever. Gods ain't sexist, are they?"

Yami raised an eyebrow at the blond, considering the question. "...Not all of them," he said.

"And...are we gonna know? Like, are there gonna be fireworks 'n confetti or whatever?"

Yami smirked. "You will know. A part of you has likely enough guessed already. But at the very least, I will know." Joey pretended to be surprised by that statement, but honestly he wasn't. It felt like it was Yami's job, or at least a hobby of his, to know everything about everything in regards to everybody.

So yes. He would know. He always knew, and he already knew.

He was just waiting.

The long-dead king stopped moving, all of a sudden. His eyes stopped their ceaseless scanning of the room and the people in it, locked dead-center on the front door of the shop, and his eyebrows raised.

"Oh," said he, looking honestly surprised for the first time in his life. "That is new."


Verse Three.


"Would you like something to drink, sir?"

Noa sat on a couch that should have been familiar, in a room that should have been familiar, and his brain was having trouble with a question that should have been familiar. He looked up at the woman—not Kiko, but another of the estate's house staff—who had asked it, and shook his head, finding himself unable to speak.

"Seto-sama?" the woman asked. Seto shook his head. "Bocchan?"

"Can I have a soda, please?"

The woman glanced fleetingly at Seto, who nodded. "At once, Bocchan."

Mokuba smiled as he hopped onto the couch next to Noa. Seto sat on a nearby chair. He leaned forward and looked Noa straight in the eye. He said, "Gozaburo's sister, Susumu, recently succumbed to lung cancer." He said the word, "succumbed," as though it were some kind of insult. Mokuba looked surprised, but Noa thought he understood what was going on. Seto continued, "You are her only child. You were kept secret at her insistence in order not to bring harm to you based on her brother's name and reputation. She's sent you here to keep you safe as a last resort."

Most people would have sounded conspiratorial, giving such a sermon. But Seto was saying it as though he were reading a report he'd been given on Noa's personal history. It was as though Noa was expected to not only adhere to this story, but believe it. He nodded. "Okaasama always was a cautious woman," he said, and winked at Mokuba.

"If anyone pries, keep this secret," Seto said. "You will wish to keep this quiet, as you want no one to know the truth. You are deeply affected by the suffering through which you saw your mother go, and the topic is too painful to discuss."

Mokuba stared. "…Niisama?"

"That way, if anyone does find out the story," Noa guessed, "they'll have no choice but to take it as the truth. I wouldn't be so secretive of a lie." A grin rose on his lips, and he nodded again. "Understood."

"You may choose any free bedroom on the second floor as your own," Seto said, and now he grimaced as though physically ill. "An account will be set in your name. Any expenses you procure will be taken from that account, and anything you earn will go into it. If you wish to begin working at Kaiba-Corp, you have permission to contact the director of human resources directly. Her name is Helen Aarden. As you are a member of the Kaiba family, a position is guaranteed to you; she will determine where best you will fit. You will begin at an entry-level position. To climb the ladder, you must do exactly that. You will gain no added assistance from me other than assurance that you will be hired. Once. If your performance does not match the company's standards, you will be let go. Am I clear?"

Noa smirked. "Crystal."

"Good." Seto stood. "Anything you need will be handled by the staff. If you wish to shop for any personal items to…personalize your space, I trust Mokuba will be willing to help you." He glanced at the boy, who nodded, and Noa couldn't help but feel as though Seto saw him as Mokuba's pet far more than he saw him as a person. Ironically enough, this was comforting. Sort of. "I have one question to ask of you," he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Noa raised a curious eyebrow. "Yes?"

"…The Big Five. What was done with them?"

Noa had heard of things coming out of left field, but thought that this was perhaps the first time he had been fundamentally caught off-guard by a question. He recovered quickly, frowning as he thought how best to phrase his answer. Eventually he said: "They failed me. They failed you. I do not believe in third strikes. They were destroyed, the same as Otous—the same as my father was destroyed. There are no traces of them in my system. They are as dead as any living creature could ever become. I made sure of it."

Mokuba watched his "new" brother as he spoke, and Noa took note of the boy's expression. It was—perhaps unsurprisingly—conflicted. He looked half-relieved, half-concerned, and atop that was a sprinkling of fear. But he said nothing. Mokuba simply looked over at Seto, waiting for his answer.

Seto did not give one.

He simply walked away, passing the young maid as she stepped back into the room, Mokuba's drink in hand. Noa wondered if that single question had been a test, and on the heels of that he wondered if he had passed.


Verse Five.


She was beautiful.

Okay, so maybe that was a weird thing for her to think. Tré lez, right? But she couldn't help it. It was the only word that really seemed to fit. It wasn't the kind of beautiful that you saw on models, super or otherwise, but a quiet kind of beauty that made her think of a meadow at sunset, or a mountain range. She wasn't cute, and she wasn't ravishing. She wasn't gorgeous, she wasn't hot, she wasn't...well. She was just...beautiful. That was it.

Katie McKinley wasn't known for shyness. She'd spent her entire life being the loud one, the forward one. She'd been the one to ask out her prom date, she'd pulled his chair out for him. She'd heard the usual adjectives: feisty, fiery, bitchy, raving loon. She was cool with that. It worked, in its way, and it'd taken her places. But for whatever reason, when it came to approaching the girl with the white hair, who was beautiful but not cute, Katie's legs froze and her brain shut off.

Renie, though...well, in the warped little two-step that was their lives together, Katie was the calm one. So she just kind of waltzed over without a thought. "Heya, stranger. Love the hair. How do you get your bangs to stay that way? Last time I tried, the hairspray company called and made me an honorary board member for my contributions."

She called herself Kay. Kay Mayer. And she looked at Renie, stared for a moment, then laughed. Katie stepped up, hands in the pockets of her coat, and offered her patented "I'm charming, don't fight it," grin.

"Hello," said Kay. "Ah...Eubank, and...McKinley, right?"

"Only in court," Renie said, holding out a hand. "Call me Renie."

"Kate," Katie offered with a grin. "Katie, Katherine, Stalker McPsycho. Any of the above." Kay smiled and shook the offered hands. "Saw you in C-Dev, with Doctor Donalds, didn't I? 8:30? How'd you do on that quiz?"

"Well enough," Kay said. "I was just heading to Milligan Hall. I haven't eaten since yesterday." She waved, and Katie would have been content to just wave back and head off on her way, figuring she was nice enough and maybe they'd see each other again. But Renie seemed to both exemplify and define every nerd stereotype on the planet by being obsessed, but unabashedly vocal and charismatic about that obsession. She asked the same question she'd asked every student who'd ever looked at her since enrolling at Brent Feuler University.

Kay raised an eyebrow. "...Kaiba? I think I've heard the name before, but...no, I guess I don't know him. Why do you ask?"

Katie was as devoted a fan as Renie was, but she was quiet, and she watched with soft amusement as her friend started The Pitch. It was friendly enough: go to the website, buy some merchandise, hang out, help orphans. She was born to sell, that much was obvious, and Katie had never once stopped her from waxing poetic on the initiative, or whatever she was calling it now. But every so often, Katie had thought of telling her to give it a rest.

And indeed, Kay Mayer didn't really seem too interested. She smiled politely and nodded in the right places, but that was about as far as it got. Katie finally decided to step forward, elbow her friend in the ribs, and say, "She forgot her medication this morning. If you're at all curious, please check the site. It's a great place, and last month we gave $3,300 to the Domino Children's Home. Don't let her scare you off. Please. But just the same, don't feel obligated. C'mon, Renie, let the girl eat. I'll see you in class."

Katie wouldn't have been surprised if she'd never heard from Kay Mayer again, but she did notice as they left the hall that the look of disinterest seemed to shift into some species of curiosity, but perhaps more importantly...

Familiarity.


END.


Say it with me now: "Who the hell are the people in the last scene, and why should I care?"

Those of you who have read some of my previous works, "Back from the Dead" and "Paved with Good Intentions" most prominently, will recognize the McKinley family. They're a substantial part of a lot of my work, and are the rule, much more often than the exception, in a given project. While most of the screen-time, so to speak, is given to Darren Wilson McKinley, Domino City detective and the only "family friend" of the Kaibas this side of the millennium, there are other members involved as well.

Katherine "Katie" McKinley and Irena "Renie" Eubank are my answers to the idea that Seto has, to use the popular terminology, fangirls. But don't worry; there's more to them than meets the eye. I don't do one-dimensional. At least, not intentionally.

As for Kay Mayer…well…you'll see.

'Til next time, everybody.