Sometimes I wonder how Little Ryo handled the spirit of the Millennium Ring. Did he have any kind of control? Was the spirit more careful when his host was a child? Or was he just a little chaos gremlin, running around causing havoc in khaki shorts and a polo shirt?

I'm not sure which would be more interesting.

.

"You," said Noa, "have the distinct aura of a man who's run afoul of the police."

Ryo frowned. "I've no idea what could have possessed you to think that," he said, trying entirely too hard to sound insulted. "I am a perfectly innocent, law-abiding, rule-following . . ." He stopped, then heaved a sigh. "Anyway. The only reason I'm not in jail is because Papa is a smooth talker."

Noa laughed. "I knew it! Let me guess: trespassing."

"Twice."

"Petty theft?"

"Once."

"Vandalism?"

"We don't talk about that."

Noa grinned devilishly. "My, my," he said. "If Hahaue could see me now. I'm dating a bad kid."

Ryo rolled his eyes. "I only take responsibility for all this on a technicality," he said. "My body committed these crimes, and so I committed them. I did not personally choose any of it." He gestured to his chest, made a swirling gesture with one finger, and Noa realized that Ryo was referring to the Millennium Ring."

"Aha." Noa cleared his throat. "Well. Okay, I want to say that doesn't count, but now that I think about it, I don't suppose there's any real way you could convince a jury, is there?" Ryo decisively shook his head. "I feel like I've heard about you . . . having to move a lot when you were younger. Was that because of the Ring, too?"

Ryo nodded. "Yes," he said. "My classmates had a habit of . . . well. Disappearing."

It was Noa's turn to frown. "Nobody pinned any of that on you?" he asked, seriously, almost grimly.

"There was nothing to pin," Ryo said. "When it came to tormenting middle schoolers, the spirit was subtle. He seemed to know that those stunts would be impossible to wave away. Even someone like my father would notice something was wrong, if he wasn't careful."

"So, what? The spirit was chill with petty crimes because, like. Whatever. Who cares? It's not like your pops was going to do anything about them." Ryo nodded absently. "But when it came to actively hurting people, he pulled out the magic."

"Exactly."

Noa grimaced. "Guy sounds great."

Ryo shrugged. "He . . . protected me, in his own way. I never had any friends, but I was never bullied either. Everyone was afraid of me. Even faculty. It's not something I enjoyed. I'm not going to pretend I was okay with it. But . . . well."

Noa was nodding. "Like how, in the cage, I didn't have to eat, or drink, or sleep." He held out his hands. "I could if I wanted to, but it wasn't a requirement. In a way, that's a benefit. Kind of. But mostly, it was just sad and kind of maddening."

"Yes," said Ryo. "Sometimes I wonder what might've happened if Papa hadn't convinced law enforcement to leave me alone. What might have happened if I'd been put in a detention facility, or whatever euphemism they're using now. Would it have curbed the spirit's ambitions? Would he have stopped? Or would he have only gotten worse?"

Noa grunted. "I suppose I see your point. It's hard to predict something like that. How old was that spirit, anyway? Two thousand years?"

"Four," Ryo said, "at least."

"Makes me wonder how Yugi's pet ghost didn't go insane."

"That's assuming he didn't."