This kinda hits on something I've wondered about for a long time.

To wit … how many people actually know about all the magic and stuff that happens in YGO?

It can't be just the people we meet, can it?

.

"Sometimes," Ryo said, "I feel like I'm falling. I know I'm not. I can feel my feet on the ground. But I still feel it. It takes time to get back up, when it happens, even though I'm already . . . up. Does that make sense at all?"

"I think so." Noa held out an arm in front of himself and flexed the fingers of his hand. "I still feel like I'm in that cage, sometimes. Like I should be able to manipulate everything around me, the way I used to. It's like its own sense, its own muscle, bending that world to my every whim. I could do it just as easily as I can turn my eyes to look at you."

Ryo frowned. "Does that . . . world . . . still exist?"

"Yes." Noa nodded. "Aniki didn't get rid of it. He said he might, eventually, need it for something. He said it might have something important hidden inside it. Something that would help me . . . if, like, I dunno, I got sick, or fell into a coma or something. You know? I'm not really what you'd call human anymore, really, and there's no telling what health issues I might end up wrestling with down the line."

Ryo hummed. "I guess that makes sense." He shrugged. "I've thought about finding a therapist. I still have use of my father's insurance until . . . I think I have six years left? I don't remember. But I keep wondering . . . how am I supposed to explain to a professional all the things I've seen? What am I supposed to tell a professional if the subject of the Ring comes up?"

There was only ever one Ring Ryo meant, when he talked about rings.

Noa nodded again. "I think I get your point," he said. "I think I'm a product of magic too. Probably a different kind of magic, compared to the Millennium Ring. A different school." He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "You know, I think I remember Aniki saying something about that once. He said he used to avoid therapy because Chichiue forced it into his head that it was weak. Now, though, he avoids therapy because what the hell is he supposed to say? Oh, you know, I was probably in love with a ghost. But see, he went and died again, so I can't do anything about it anymore. I met him when he was piloting one of my classmates like a meat-mech, and we saved the world a couple of times. That builds a bond, you know?"

Ryo cut off his sudden laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, "I shouldn't laugh. I know your brother had . . . a fraught relationship with King Atem. But it does sound absurd when you lay it out like that, doesn't it?"

"It really does."

"I feel like," Ryo went on, "there must be some psychologists, psychiatrists, doctors, who've experience with these sorts of things. It's not like we're all actually experiencing a shared delusion. I've seen far too many people, on the streets and all, talk about the strange things that happen in this city, to say nothing about the rest of the world, to believe that. There has to be one professional who knows enough about magic to be useful. Even if they're ridiculously expensive because of that exclusivity . . . I mean, surely your brother can afford it."

Noa laughed. "I certainly hope so," he said.