Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Sight the King ❯ in which Yuugi freaks out ( Chapter 4 )

when they sight the king in all his power

 

._._.

 

Yuugi awoke in a great deal of pain. He was, oddly, sitting up, his back pressed against the front of the couch, and facing the game board. Hikari was sitting opposite him, her head hung low, as though she had fallen asleep sitting up. Had all that been a dream? He shifted forward, but the pain shooting down his left side disproved that notion rather quickly.

 

Hikari's hand was resting on the table awkwardly, and it took a moment for Yuugi to realize she was holding one of the kitchen knives. A very bloody kitchen knife. The entire table was covered in blood - the game board tiles had been scattered, and the center of the table was replaced instead with a stack of face-up, blood-soaked item cards, the top of which was the Golden Knife card that would have repelled the Banshee, had they still been playing Monsters. Nausea and a sick feeling of dread pooled in Yuugi's stomach; Yuugi looked back up to Hikari, and with his uninjured arm reached across the table and nudged her.

 

The blood on his fingers stained her forehead, and she toppled over easily, but even in that short second Yuugi saw the dark line of crimson against her neck, and realized that her dress was dark and wet with the blood that must have come flooding out when her throat was slit.

 

Even though he was able to see all this as she fell, for the first few seconds after her body thudded against the carpet Yuugi only felt the pain from the gunshot, and realized distantly that he had not been sitting when he passed out. Then he was trying not to vomit on the table or game board, forcing himself to look elsewhere, but all he could see were the accusing eyes of the Bollywood idols who had watched... whatever it was that happened while Yuugi was unconscious. Tears and shakes started ravaging Yuugi's body, and he covered his eyes against the sight. Where was Jounouchi? Surely he wouldn't just leave Yuugi here? What happened?

 

It was just a stupid game!

 

He sat there, shaking and crying for several minutes before the pain of merely holding up his left arm became too much, and he let his arms drop.

 

Yo.

 

Yuugi didn't bother looking up from his lap, or speaking aloud; he merely stared at the edge of the table and no further.

 

She's dead, Yuugi realized, his body filling with the numbing ice of shock, his body ceasing to tremor.

 

Yes.

 

Silence, in the room, and in Yuugi's mind, but it did not last long.

 

Her sister, too?

 

... yes.

 

Jounouchi-kun?

 

Silence.

 

Several seconds of silence.

 

They may have stretched to minutes.

 

All was quiet, and still.

 

And then—

 

Oh god—

 

I tried so hard—

 

Jounouchi—

 

The bleeding was too much—

 

He didn't deserve this. Not Jounouchi-kun.

 

Yes. He didn't.

 

Silence. Yuugi, with his stronger arm, picked up the closest, least bloody Item card on the table. The Fire Axe. His fingers smeared blood onto the text, and with a shaking exhalation Yuugi held the card.

 

... these aren't the first deaths, he essentially whispered, even in his own mind, are they?

 

No.

 

Yuugi only nodded, his body numb and brain mostly shut down. If he tried thinking, he would have to come to terms with—!

 

This is the first time—?

 

That you've seen? Yes.

 

Why?

 

I... the bullet, I tried... had I known, I would have waited. I'm sorry. I did not know the danger.

 

Neither did I, thought Yuugi. Where is he?

 

The pause was hesitant; Yuugi could feel it as if he were watching the voice's facial expression, the nervous gnawing of a lip and the gaze turned elsewhere. Are you sure?

 

Yuugi physically nodded, and with closed eyes he gingerly rose from the floor, briefly wondering how much of the blood on the table was his, and how much was Hikari's, and how much... much... and how many prints would the police find, and how many were his? Had he touched the knife? The gun? Yuugi shook his head, absently slipping the card into his pocket, before clasping the slightly padded wound with his right hand.

 

Yes, I'm sure. He didn't deserve this, but at least I can... say goodbye.

 

It was painful to even think such words!

 

... on the carpet, behind the couch, replied the voice, slowly, it's not... brutal, at least.

 

Yuugi nodded, and slowly he walked around the couch (studiously ignoring Hebi on the couch, pretty Hebi's hair and face matted with blood, bullet in her skull and soaking the brown couch to black with blood). Spread upon the floor behind it lay Jounouchi on his back, his bare chest awash with blood, thick and drying, his discarded shirt matted and bloodstained against the wound. The other voice in Yuugi's head was right - it was not brutal, but the sight of Jounouchi's vacant eyes staring up to the ceiling and the blood on his face shook Yuugi to his very core.

 

They had not been friends for very long, but it was still Yuugi's best friend laid flat on the ground, never again to skip school, or attack Anzu's uniform with the panty tank, or help Yuugi stand up to bullies. Never again to smile, or laugh, or get into fights, or share with Yuugi the secrets of his life when no one else was around.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Yuugi whispered, crouching down and carefully closing Jounouchi's eyes, suffering the pain of moving his left arm so as not to smear blood on Jounouchi's already stained face.

 

He wanted so much to break down and cry, and sob, and scream, but the wound in his shoulder was still bleeding steadily, and the sun was peering through the windows.

 

Yuugi's right hand caressed one side of the Puzzle, smearing blood into the crevices. “You know,” he said, his voice thick and wet, “when the shock wears off, I'm going to freak out about there being a voice in my head.”

 

All right, replied the voice, but the wound seems to be, ah, getting worse. If you let me, I can dull the pain from you.

 

Yuugi's eyes slid closed in defeat. “All right,” he whispered, and for the first time he felt that sense of vertigo, the one that had accompanied his blackouts for weeks, without actually losing consciousness. He felt his senses dull - he could not feel his arm bleeding, or consciously feel his arms, or any of his limbs, and his vision was graying and the previously unnoticed noise of birds outside faded. He did, however, feel his body begin to move, rising from Jounouchi's side, and how weird it was to not be controlling it!

 

Everything was dull, and gray, and Yuugi felt like he was watching a film shot in the first person rather than actually existing within himself. He barely heard the thundering at the door, and the sight of the two men barreling in wearing indistinct clothes was not frightening.

 

Not, that is, until Yuugi felt his own lips move, and heard a voice that was his but not his saying “morning, Officers.”

 

Although the vertigo had not knocked him unconscious this time, it was very easy for Yuugi to fall into that oblivion, hoping that things couldn't possibly go more wrong in his slumber.

 

._._.

 

The hospital, sterile and quiet, greeted Yuugi next - alone in a clean room, wrapped in bandages and warm blankets. There were no police officers, no doctors, no family members, no friends - just Yuugi, his sewn-up wound, and his Millennium Puzzle. Oh, and the voice within Yuugi's head. Him too.

 

When the police had shown up to arrest Yuugi on the scene of the crime, the... the other Yuugi must have played up the injury, causing the officers to take Yuugi directly to the hospital. He must have only recently come out from surgery, since his arm was still numb from anesthetic, and he was sure that the police would be taking him into custody as soon as the doctors cleared him for movement.

 

The Puzzle had been left on the small table near Yuugi's bed, and without hesitation Yuugi had reached for it, thankful that it was on his uninjured side. Once his hand fell upon the Puzzle, still brown in places from blood, he felt more than saw his shadow stretching away from him, as though the wall behind him were a light, until his shadow was stretched across the opposite wall as though standing. Yuugi placed the Puzzle in his lap, gazing across the room at the shadow.

 

“... hello,” he whispered quietly, hoping that no one was hiding in the room.

 

Dark markings appeared on the paint, large enough for Yuugi to read, as the shadow seemed to trail his hand across the wall. Hello, it said.

 

“You...” so it wasn't a dream, realized Yuugi, none of it. “You're... the voice in my head, right?” The shadow nodded. “Then... why aren't you there now?”

 

The markings changed. It is easier for me to look around when I do not need eyes. Yuugi opened his mouth to respond, but he wasn't particularly sure what to say. The shadow's head turned towards the door for a moment, but then returned its gaze to Yuugi. If it had a gaze. Hell, it could be facing the wall it was painted upon, Yuugi couldn't tell.

 

“Are you... the Millennium Puzzle? I mean... the God Pyramid?” Yuugi held up the golden treasure to clarify, and the shadow seemed to shift its weight onto its right side, its hip jutting out sharply on the wall.

 

I... do not know. I do not think I am made of gold, and I do not hang from your neck, but... I recall nothing prior to its completion, and I do not know where I go when I am not... out. I am no more the Puzzle than you are your clothes.

 

“... oh.”

 

Yuugi's hands kept absently rubbing at the blood on the Pyramid, but his efforts were not to remove the stains. He would not wash it, not clean it, not when—

 

“I don't want him to be dead,” Yuugi whispered, feeling his grief clogging his throat and burning in his eyes, “he—”

 

Yes, wrote the shadow, I know.

 

Do you? Yuugi thought, angered. How could some... some voice or some shadow from a necklace possibly—?

 

He felt it.

 

As though he stood on a beach, Yuugi felt the waters of emotion lap up against his ankles, and the spray was bitter with sorrow. The waters retreated, but came back stronger to his knees, and there was confusion. To his hips, soaking him through to the bones, the marrow, with anguish. The water wasn't retreating: it was rising, or it was pulling Yuugi forward without his consent. The waves were threatening to knock him over, now, crashing and breaking across his chest in anger, anguish, betrayal, regret, blame, and sorrow. Yuugi choked as he began sinking in the undertow, clawing for the sky as overwhelming him were the feelings of hate, and grief, and love, and sorrow, sorrow, sorrow.

 

Guilt! Cried the water pounding against Yuugi's ears and eyes. Guilt! Screamed the blood in his veins as the water surged through him, and though the water was murky and dark he could clearly see Jounouchi's bloodstained face, the blood in the water, and maybe he was drowning in blood, but it didn't matter because he was full, full of guilt and shame and blame and fault and oh god Jounouchi was dead-dead-dead.

 

The water was gone. Yuugi suddenly stood again on the beach at dusk, the wind cold and painful against his soaked skin. He breathed the cold air and felt the wind strip him and overwhelming all that, there, was the truth.

 

Loss.

 

Yuugi screamed, his hands clenching around his head, the cold of the beach replaced by the cool of the hospital room, but he couldn't breathe, it hurt it hurt and he couldn't stop shaking, trying to expel the ocean water from his lungs and eyes, his torso heaving under the effort.

 

Saltwater rivers ran from oceans and Yuugi curled up on himself around the Puzzle, sobbing and aching for the friend he stupidly got killed.

 

Time passed, and later, when it hurt too much to sob or even move, Yuugi tightened around the Pyramid, eyes half-closed but puffy and red.

 

Trying to distract himself from the hollow ache, Yuugi looked to see his shadow, sitting and curled against the wall.

 

“Was that... was that your grief I nearly drowned in, or mine?”

 

The words flickered on the wall, shifting too fast for Yuugi to settle his eyes on one: Yours-Mine-Ours. The words stilled. They... flooded our natural borders and mixed, I think. We both grieve, and they mix, so we... each suffer more for it.

 

“That sounds... debilitating,” he whispered.

 

Yes.

 

“but... Jounouchi-kun... he deserves all our grief, even if...” Yuugi shifted on his side, still curled on his uninjured shoulder, “... even if it's too much to bear.”

 

The shadow did not respond to that directly, but the shadow did shift from its position on the wall, turning its head toward the doorway and then seemed to slide from the wall and move across the floor like a dragged fabric. Words trailed behind it and disappeared.

 

The police officers have returned, outside the door. Do you want me to—?

 

Yuugi shook his head briefly, uncurling a little. Yuugi, after all, knew he hadn't killed anybody. He couldn't say the same for the... other Yuugi.

 

The door opened quite loudly, and Yuugi heard two sets of footsteps enter.

 

Wait, how did you—?

 

I will not let my guard down again, answered the voice in his head, deep with fury and threat. Never.

 

“Ah, kid, you awake?” Yuugi rolled over, onto his back, but no further; the doorway in which the officers stood was to Yuugi's left, and he did not want to roll onto the freshly dressed wound, or provoke the stitching.

 

“Yes, officers, I'm awake,” he said, dully, turning a glance at the two men. They appeared to be the same officers that had burst into the apartment, and it was very strange to be seeing them in color this time. Still uniformed, both men were tall and muscular, but the officer on the right was a good head taller, narrower, blonder, and much, much uglier. Yuugi was sure that they were probably confused for one another often, which was strange because they really looked nothing alike.

 

The shorter brunet cop walked over with a noticeable, yet negligible limp and sat upon the edge of Yuugi's bed. Yuugi sat up fully, his hands possessively holding his Puzzle.

 

“We searched you for I.D.,” said the brunet, his eyes sunk deep into his skull in fatigue, his voice rough from years of chewing gravel, “after you passed out, but you turned up lacking. You got a name, kid?”

 

They thought it was a fake, chimed in the other voice, and Yuugi could feel a scowl behind his own eyes; he hoped it didn't show on his face. Idiots.

 

“Mutou Yuugi,” he said, his voice low and dull, “my mom is probably worried sick about me. Could you call her?” Yuugi's grip on the Puzzle tightened; it was probably noon by now, how long had they worried? “We live with my grandfather, he owns the Turtle Game Shop in town—”

 

“All right,” said the cop with a placating gesture, “I'll have my partner go call your house, all right?” Yuugi nodded, his eyes still puffy and red from crying. The two cops exchanged a look, and the scary tall blond one left without a word. The remaining officer returned his attention to Yuugi. “All right, Mutou-san—”

 

“I'm in high school,” Yuugi muttered, but the venom was only half-hearted, “you probably don't believe me or anything, but I'm not a little kid.” The cop nodded as though he got this sort of thing all the time, and Yuugi bristled.

 

“Can you tell me what happened?” The Puzzle seemed to pulse in warning under Yuugi's fingertips, but Yuugi nodded anyway.

 

“My... my best friend...” Yuugi choked on the words, Jounouchi's smiling and bloodstained face filling his vision, a specter painted on the far wall. “Oh god,” Yuugi clenched his eyes shut, feeling the sorrow boil up within him once more, and dammit why did he have to say anything?

 

“Do you mean one of the other people at the scene?”

 

Yuugi nodded. “Jounouchi-kun... Jounouchi Katsuya, but nobody calls him that—he—” a hiccup in his ramble silenced Yuugi, and the officer frowned at him sternly.

 

“Mutou-san, you're the only witness to a heinous crime, and we would very much appreciate your cooperation with our investigation, and—”

 

“You heartless bastard!” Yuugi screamed, yet again struggling not to drown. “My best friend just got murdered by some bitch who couldn't stand to lose a game, and you think I did it, but I didn't! I couldn't—” Yuugi hiccupped again, and it almost felt as though someone cupped a hand gently over his mouth, though there was no hand.

 

Do not fall too deep into the ocean, whispered Yuugi's other voice softly into his mind. The hand that was not there, had it been there, would have fallen away. Yuugi let out a sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

 

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled.” Yuugi scrubbed at the tears on his cheek, “or called you a bastard, or heartless.”

 

The cop waved a dismissing hand at him, and said, “I've heard worse,” and if Yuugi were in any sort of positive mood he might have asked for examples.

 

As it were, the not-real hand that had not cupped Yuugi's mouth was now not resting on his shoulder, and was most definitely not trying to massage the muscle comfortingly. Not at all. His eyes slid closed, aching and sore.

 

“I guess the investigation can wait,” the cop murmured, “since we're not technically supposed to speak to you until you're with your guardians or a lawyer anyway.”

 

Yuugi cracked open one eye and fuzzily stared at the officer. If he isn't meant to be speaking with me, he thought, then it's even less likely that he's actually supposed to tell me that he's not.

 

Without another word the cop abruptly stood and exited the room.

 

That was odd, thought Yuugi, and the nonexistent hand that definitely wasn't on his shoulder certainly did not give him a reassuring squeeze before falling away and back into complete nonexistence.

 

Then there was the matter of the voice that was obviously a defense mechanism brought on by—

 

Well, that.

 

“Hello?” Yuugi whispered quietly, hoping no one outside the room could hear, “are you still there?”

 

Yes, responded the voice both in Yuugi's mind and, faintly, in his ears. Always.

 

“Does that mean... all those times I talked to the Puzzle, did you...?”

 

Hear you?

 

Oh God, Yuugi thought, almost surprised that he could feel flustered by anything right now, but still, I told you everything!

 

Thank you, said the voice, and the sudden non sequitur knocked the blush off his cheeks.

 

Wait... what?

 

You... the voice sounded a little confused, but also louder in Yuugi's ears, you thanked me, and spoke to me. I... have not been spoken to in a very, very long time. Longer still since I've heard anything remotely... affectionate. So, thank you.

 

Yuugi was pretty positive that the phrase “the crazies know they're sane” was utter bollocks; after all, here was Yuugi, in the hospital, after being shot for winning a board game, and his best friend actually murdered for breaking even, and Yuugi was probably the prime suspect as he was the only survivor (and if he learned anything from watching movies, it was that shoulder wounds always looked self-inflicted), and instead of feeling angry, or anxious, or scared, Yuugi was talking to a voice in his head that claimed to live in an inanimate chunk of gold and who, apparently, also caused Yuugi to suffer from visual hallucinations.

 

Then again, maybe Yuugi was crazy because he thought - no, he believed - the voice to be honest and real and not originating from his own brain. There was no way of knowing for sure, really, but if Yuugi had to choose between crazy and talking to himself, or crazy and having a talking psychic Puzzle, the choice was obvious.

 

Psychic Puzzles, ahoy!

 

You don't have to thank me, Yuugi thought, but whatever response the voice had went... unvoiced, for then a very distraught yell sounded down the hallway, high and feminine and instantly recognizable to Yuugi's ears.

 

“I don't care if there's an investigation,” the female shouted, “Yuugi wouldn't have done anything wrong! I want to see him!”

 

Behind and below her shouts, Yuugi heard another familiar voice, deep and masculine and obviously pushing down his own worry to prevent the other person from getting kicked out.

 

There should be three, whispered a voice in Yuugi's mind that he knew to be his own doubts and worries and devil's advocate, but you tend to build them up to four, don't you? Three is stable - four is unbalanced, and tumbles and breaks in a stiff wind.

 

Someone silenced that voice, pushing it to the back of his mind, but if it was Yuugi or that voice that was not Yuugi who did so, he couldn't tell.

 

The door to his room nearly slammed against the wall in opening.

 

“Yuugi!” the woman cried, flinging herself across the room and her arms quickly encircled his neck.

 

“Mama,” he whispered, wrapping his good arm around her back.

 

“Yuugi,” the masculine voice, Grandfather, called softly from the door, “are you—?”

 

“I'm fine,” Yuugi said, not really turning from the tight embrace of his mother. He felt her push the Puzzle aside in order to tighten her hold on him without bruising either of them on the sharp metal, and faintly Yuugi felt his shadow extend away from him, gliding across the floor; he shivered in his mother's arms.

 

“We were so worried when you didn't come home,” she said, soft and quiet and Yuugi closed his eyes, letting himself sink in the oddly comforting pitch of her voice, “and then we get calls from the police,” she nearly spat the word into Yuugi's hair, and he could feel her fingers clenching tighter through the hospital gown, “those useless bastards can't stop a crime or catch a crook or—”

 

“Mama,” Yuugi whispered, not wanting to think back to that time; the Puzzle seemed to pulse against his side, and Yuugi laid his free hand upon its surface to calm it.

 

“Yuugi, your mother and I... would very much like to know what happened to you last night,” said Grandfather, crossing to the bed with a fire in his eyes. To you, he had said, and Yuugi suddenly knew what burned behind that glare, and his fear dissipated.

 

Yuugi was getting used to recognizing the desire for revenge.

 

His mother finally pulled away, but only enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Yuugi cradled his hands around the Millennium Puzzle, feeling its heat as though it had spent the last week basking in sunlight. Yuugi opened his mouth to speak, but he felt the swift retraction of his possessed shadow returning to him, and once more he felt the phantom press of a hand over his mouth. The faintest whisper from the voice told that two more people approached his room - one of which was the cop from before, another a young woman who may have been a nurse. Yuugi pressed his lips shut.

 

How on earth can you tell? He asked silently, disbelieving, taking care to not watch the door.

 

The cop has a limp, and the nurse wears heels, the voice said, slightly put-out.

 

Yuugi then caught the sound of footsteps outside his door.

 

I'm sorry, I—

 

—I understand, they said, and the way the pronouns overlapped, with Yuugi's humility and the other's arrogance made for what Yuugi thought could be an interesting juxtaposition, but his attention was swiftly diverted when the two more people crossed the threshold of the door.

 

“There, you see?” The limping cop was saying, gesturing to Yuugi as he and an anxious-looking nurse strode into the room, “he's awake, with his guardians, and does not appear to be suffering from heinous amounts of pain. Ergo, my partner and I shall be taking the kid into police custody such that we can continue our investigation. Is that clear?”

 

The nurse would have countered, Yuugi could tell, if she had any form of leverage over the cop. Instead, she threw up her arms in disgust. “Fine! But when he gets an infection from stress and poor medical treatment, it'll be on your head!” The nurse spared Yuugi a pitying look before she turned on her heel and flounced out of the room.

 

Yuugi's mother and grandfather had not spent that little interlude idle - they both now stood protectively in front of Yuugi's bed. The sentiment was kind, but Yuugi was pretty sure that the police had far more power than a panicked mother.

 

Not that they ever used it.

 

“Ah, you must be the boy's parents,” said the officer, and though Yuugi couldn't see his face he was sure that his grandfather was rolling his eyes.

 

“Close,” said Yuugi quietly, “he's my grandfather.”

 

“And he's not a boy,” said his mother harshly, her hands slowly fisting, “he's a fifteen-year-old young man, and we'd appreciate it if you didn't patronize him because of his appearance, Officer.”

 

Yuugi flinched at the anger in her voice - he'd heard it before, screamed down telephone wires, but that was long ago - and he closed his eyes. His mother hated Domino cops, and this was not boding well for Yuugi. He heard the achingly loud footfalls of the second cop striding down the hallway, and the ugly cop entered carrying a sheaf of papers. Goody, thought Yuugi, my warrant.

 

“Sasaki, tell me you've got the paperwork?” asked the brunet, and awkwardly Yuugi hoped this cop would get a name soon.

 

“Yes, sir,” damn, “and we've got the car ready outside.”

 

“Good. Mutou-san, ah, Yuugi-san, can you walk?”

 

“Wait just a moment!” yelled his mother, spreading out her arms as though to shield him, and Yuugi was painfully reminded of Jounouchi - only the day before! - having similarly shielded Yuugi from danger. God, if only Jounouchi hadn't been such a good friend, or even a friend at all! He'd still be alive...

 

Yuugi clenched his eyes shut and tightened his hold on the Puzzle.

 

“My son just got shot. You have no right to be taking him anywhere!”

 

“That, ma'am, is entirely incorrect,” said the brunet, waving the sheaf of papers he'd just received. “The shooting happened a full twelve hours ago, and this stack of papers here gives me every right to take your son somewhere very specific.”

 

The cop pushed past Yuugi's mother, ignoring both her and his grandfather in favor of grabbing Yuugi's thankfully good arm.

 

“Mutou Yuugi, you are hereby under arrest for the suspected murders of Sasori Hebi, Sasori Hikari, and Jounouchi Katsuya.”

 

._._.

 

“Challenging them to Dark Games at this point would be a very bad idea.”

 

... he twisted your injured arm. Whatever those doctors did was undone. It is unforgivable!

 

Yuugi sat in a holding cell on the second floor of the downtown Domino City Police Station, clutching the Puzzle to his chest tightly and watching dark shadow words trail across the wall opposite his cot. He wasn't sure why no one had yet attempted to confiscate the Puzzle, considering how large, sharp, heavy, and obviously expensive it was, but he was grateful nonetheless. Then again, no one had bothered to get him a change of clothes, either, so he was stuck in his school uniform from the previous day - bloodstains and all.

 

He and the voice, the shadow, had been talking for a few hours now, ever since the interrogation force had decided to call it a night; even that had been a couple hours after both grandfather and mother had been kicked out due to `visiting hours.' Yuugi's arm was in pain again, the dressings were probably dark red from the ripped stitches, and Yuugi was trying very hard to convince the other Yuugi that exacting revenge while being held suspect for triple homicide was probably an unwise move, considering that the shadow had explained that its games tended to drive people insane, and occasionally to death.

 

`He twisted my arm and thus deserved to have his mind shattered by my psychic possessed Puzzle' was probably not a defense that would hold up well in any court.

 

(Though he kept it in mind, in case pleading insanity seemed like a better route.)

 

“Eh, let me put it this way,” Yuugi whispered, too low for even himself to fully make out the words, “this is like... a very serious game. They're going to cheat, but if we can convince them that we - or, at least, I - didn't kill Jounouchi-kun and the others, then we win.”

 

I never lose a game, trailed the words on the wall.

 

“I haven't for years,” replied Yuugi.

 

Neither brought up that winning was what got them here in the first place.

 

... but once we win...

 

Yuugi closed his eyes. “We'll... we'll talk about that when it happens.”

 

It was probably past midnight now; the main lights had been turned off long before now, leaving the only illumination to be the emergency floor lights. Inwardly, Yuugi wondered: should there be a fire or some other calamity, would the doors open automatically, or would he have to wait for someone to manually unlock it? The thought was rather distressing in either situation.

 

Yuugi yawned, leaning back flat upon the cot, and felt the shadow retract. His wound still stung, but he wasn't in any position to do anything to it to alleviate the pain.

 

When his mother and grandfather had still been present at the station, the questioning had been rudimentary and calm, following procedure to the letter. It was only after they had left that the officers got a bit rough, trying to force a confession from him quickly. Yuugi didn't understand the interrogators' almost frantic expressions, but it had scared Yuugi.

 

Of course he was scared! Their actions in the interrogation room seemed too chaotic for trained professionals, and even though Yuugi knew (and had been assured by the voice) that he hadn't touched either of the weapons, the way those men had looked so desperate—

 

Somewhere, a door opened, and Yuugi could faintly hear voices carrying down the hallway. He made to sit up, but it felt as though a strong hand was pushing down upon the Puzzle, pinning him flat to the cot.

 

Be still, said the voice in his mind once more, and faintly in his ears.

 

Yuugi relaxed, and the pressure on his sternum eased. The two unfamiliar voices became clearer as they approached, and eventually Yuugi was able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

 

“—doesn't make it right,” muttered one, a young man with a tenor voice, sounding more disappointed than angry. “The kid's got no motive, no record, and the prelims only have his prints on the game - tokens, dice, that shit.”

 

It seemed unlikely that they were talking about anyone other than Yuugi; he focused intently on the conversation.

 

“You know how it goes,” said another voice, older and deeper and scratchy with smoking, “prints are easy to erase, everyone starts a record somewhere, and no one's going to buy that the media darling daughters of Sasori fucking Tadashi killed anyone, let alone themselves.”

 

If Yuugi weren't trying to keep still and quiet, he would have slapped himself in disbelief. Of course! Yuugi didn't pay much attention to idols, but Anzu did, and he knew he had recognized the man in the photograph with Hebi and Hikari. Hell, Anzu worshiped the Sasori twins - he remembered buying her one of their albums for her birthday. How had he not recognized them before? That must have been what Jounouchi meant, why he had been so struck by their flirtation; Jounouchi was an even bigger idol chaser than Anzu. Dammit all to hell! he thought, but the two men continued.

 

“This is why I hate idols,” muttered Junior, “and working in Domino, at that.”

 

“I hear ya,” said Smokey, and Yuugi heard the splash of water: mop in a bucket, at least one of them was a janitor. “Poor kid. How many years do you think he'll get?”

 

Another splash of water. “—at least. If he's lucky, he might get out in thirty years, but from the look of him I'd be surprised if he lasted that many minutes in there,” said Junior. “Fuck! Everyone knows the kid's gonna get convicted - facing the financial empire of the Sasori family? If Sasori wants the kid to take the fall, he's gonna fall.”

 

“He'd be less fucked as a Taiwanese hooker with no teeth,” grumbled Smokey.

 

Yuugi kept his breathing slow and his eyes closed, but his hands were clenched tightly and his short fingernails were trying to cut into his skin. The two janitors seemed to have forgotten about Yuugi's situation, for they then moved to more light-hearted subjects, like Smokey's divorce and Junior's best friend running off with Junior's inheritance.

 

In Yuugi's mind, there was silence. Then,

 

... shall I challenge this Sasori Tadashi to a Dark Game, then?

 

No, Yuugi thought in response with a despairing sigh, he's a father, and parents always want to believe in their children. It's just... ah, the game is rigged worse than I thought.

 

Rigged games are the easiest to win, once you know the trick, replied the voice confidently.

 

So what's the trick, split personality of mine?

 

There was a pause in their conversation, and Yuugi strained to hear noise outside his cell, but now there was only the hum of electricity from the floor lights.

 

... Jounouchi-kun's trick, said the voice.

 

Getting shot in the stomach by a pop idol doesn't seem like a good trick to me, Yuugi replied, trying not to gag, or cry at the memory of his friend's— I mean, sure, we'd get out of prison, but we'd be right back once it healed.

 

No, said the other voice sternly, the trick that won the game.

 

Yuugi frowned, trying to remember how the game ended exactly. Hadn't he - they, Yuugi and the shadow - won? Wasn't that why he was here?

 

No... Jounouchi won, and then the game ended. How did Jounouchi win?

 

Yuugi could tell that the voice knew precisely how Jounouchi had won the game, but from the very patient inflection of even the silence Yuugi knew that the voice wanted him to realize the trick on his own. Yuugi thought back to the final few turns of the game, after Hikari had... but before she...

 

... the Axe? He thought, remembering the item card, remembered picking it up after waking up, remembering sliding the card into his pocket, and the token on the board, and the way they had been covered in blood— are you talking about the Fire Axe?

 

He left the board, replied the voice. His piece was in danger, but he did not allow the game to take him. He did not lose. He broke the wall and removed himself from play, from the range of damage - and was not survival the goal?

 

... you want us to break out of jail, replied Yuugi incredulously.

 

You heard as well as I did what will happen if we remain on the board! The voice responded, and Yuugi winced at the force of the cry. You will be sent to a prison, where you will be maimed and tortured for the rest of your life— the voice was becoming hysterical, and Yuugi quietly cried out in pain, sitting up as he covered his ears, but that could not soften the raving— and I will not be able to protect you, or even be with you, for they will take the Puzzle from you and break it, or sell it, and you shall suffer and cry out in pain for a crime you did not commit!

 

“But YOU DID!” Yuugi shouted back, his eyes scrunched up and crying from the throbbing in his skull, and why was it he couldn't run out of tears? The blood is on my hands, my Puzzle, my conscience! Do you honestly think that anyone would believe that some... I don't even know what you are! That some voice in my head challenged a pop star's daughter to a Game of fucking Darkness, after she had killed her own sister, and that the girl was compelled to kill herself?

 

Even if he had been thinking clearly, Yuugi probably would not have praised his foresight in continuing his rant within the confines of his mind, but the voice did notice the switch.

 

“Not fucking likely,” Yuugi whispered, his eyes closed as he smacked his head against the wall. His hands, no longer clutching his skull in futile attempts to stifle the voice, now lay still against the Puzzle, still feeling its sun-trapped warmth.

 

The voice was oddly quiet as Yuugi started crying.

 

“Solving this... I wished for a friend,” Yuugi whispered, barely loud enough for his own ears to catch. “I wished for a friend who would never betray me, and who I could never betray - who wouldn't let me down, who I wouldn't— I want my friend back. You gave him to me once,” he whispered desperately, squeezing the Puzzle, “give him back!”

 

The Puzzle did not give you Jounouchi-kun, the voice whispered into his ear, into his mind, it was Jounouchi-kun who gave himself to you. The Puzzle... gave you me.

 

Emotionally wrought, Yuugi ground his teeth, his eyes snapping open as he spat to the source of the voice, “I don't want you.”

 

He felt the tug as his shadow pulled away, and he watched the darkness spread across the floor, up the wall, larger than life before scaling back down to Yuugi's height. He watched, waiting for words to appear on the wall, waiting for the shadow to say something, say anything, but no words appeared.

 

Instead, Yuugi watched the shadow walk off of the wall.

 

It was difficult to notice at first, but as he watched the shadow got larger for getting closer, pulling away from the solid surface of the wall until it became a shadow mannequin, the shape of Yuugi cast solely in darkness, semitransparent and coming closer. Yuugi tried scooting back from the shadow's approach, but where could he go? He was locked in a holding cell at midnight, no one was around, no one was here but Yuugi and his transforming shadow, his shadow gaining color, gaining pigment.

 

Yuugi was staring at himself.

 

The shadow, which was no longer a shadow, looked almost exactly like Yuugi, but his expression was frightening and intense, and his entire body let in light without resistance, lacking substance. Its hair was styled the same as Yuugi's, a five-pointed crown like a starfish, its clothes were the same as Yuugi's, its Puzzle was the same as Yuugi's, and Yuugi cried out in fear.

 

He was staring at his own ghost.

 

The ghost Yuugi stopped his approach, glowering, and Yuugi noticed that though they wore the same clothes and the same, the same, that the bloodstains on the ghost's uniform were different, the rips in the fabric were different, the way he stood was different, the anger on his face was different than the anger Yuugi had ever felt his own face express.

 

The ghost's eyes narrowed, dark and angular and sharp like knives, in an expression Yuugi never wanted to wear.

 

“If you don't want me,” whispered the ghost Yuugi, his voice an emotionally clogged baritone, deeper and stronger than Yuugi's voice ever sounded, “then smash the Puzzle and scatter the pieces and welcome your time in prison.”

 

And though he had watched the transformation take place, Yuugi was struck by the realization, as the other boy climbed onto the foot of the cot. “You...”

 

“But unless you commit such desperate acts,” he said, not approaching any further, “then I will never leave you, never hurt you, never allow you to be hurt, for I have no one in the world other than you, for our pain is shared.” Although Yuugi could see the far wall through them, he was stricken by the dark gaze that the other Yuugi leveled upon him. “I cannot die while you and the Puzzle survive, and while there is strength in your limbs and your heart I shall not falter to protect you.”

 

Yuugi pushed away from the wall, shaking, letting his hands fall on the cot between them. The other boy placed his hands next to Yuugi's, but they did not touch.

 

“And so help me,” said the other darkly, “I shall not allow your otherwise noble sense of sacrifice and penance be used to cage and abuse you on the whims of a family rotted and poisoned with pettiness and false honor. You may prevent me from hurting others,” the other boy growled, “but I will not allow anyone - not even you - to bring pain upon you, or hurt you.

 

“So,” he said, leaning back and cupping his own bloodstained Puzzle, “when I say we will use Jounouchi-kun's trick to open the wall and escape the confines of the board,” Yuugi's eyes widened as the other boy pulled from his pocket the item card Yuugi had taken, watched as the other boy pulled from the card what looked like a string of shadow. As he pulled, the string grew wider and darker and thicker, taking shape while across its surface leaped what looked like bolts of black electricity, until it finalized in the shape of a fucking jet black fire axe, “then we will do so. Do we have an understanding, my partner in the body and one who solved the Puzzle?”

 

The other boy held out the electric Axe of Darkness. Yuugi, after a moment of hesitation, looked into the other boy's eyes. He read the fierce determination of a stubborn will, and fear, and anger, and a myriad of other emotions Yuugi knew he himself felt in these same moments, and with a nod he grabbed hold of the axe.

 

“We do,” he whispered, “my split personality, triggered by trauma and apparently able to cause all sorts of crazy hallucinations.”

 

The other boy frowned, and pulled back at the axe. “I am not a figment, or a specter,” he grumbled. “Just because I share your body doesn't mean I don't exist.”

 

“... I could call you by your name,” Yuugi suggested. “If you have one.”

 

“... I do have one,” said the other boy, still holding tight to the axe, “... though I cannot seem to remember it.”

 

Yuugi frowned. “How do you not know your own name? Don't answer that.” Yuugi pursed his lips. “Well, what should I name you then?”

 

“I...” the boy paused, for the first time looking uncertain, “I do not think I can be named. I think something terrible would happen if I were to take a new name.”

 

This, Yuugi decided, was the clincher. He was definitely insane.

 

“If you cannot take a name,” he whispered, gazing at their hands on the handle, his own hands solid and the other's only mostly visible, “then I guess we'll have to share a name, like everything else. Can you be the other me?”

 

“ `The Other Yuugi?' ” asked the other boy with a tilt of his head. “I'd much prefer that to being a mental illness, aibou. Now,” he pushed the axe towards Yuugi with a kind smile. “Break the wall.”

 

Yuugi tightened his grip on the axe and as the other boy, the other Yuugi that acted nothing like the original Yuugi, let go of the axe, Yuugi watched his other self seem to dissolve into air, melting back into shadow. Startled, Yuugi nearly dropped the axe.

 

I am here, said the other Yuugi within his mind, and for the first time the voice caused Yuugi to relax, Now...

 

Yuugi nodded, rising from the cot and walking to the outer wall. His cell was on the second floor of the station, and though his room shared only one wall with the evening sky, he had no window for blatantly obvious reasons. He was completely crazy, but Yuugi still raised the axe of darkness to the outer wall and swung with all his might.

 

The axe shattered on contact.

 

So did the wall.

 

Barely comprehending what just happened, if he understood any of this night at all, Yuugi felt the press of the other Yuugi within his mind, and with a sense of vertigo Mutou Yuugi relinquished control of his body to the other, distressingly fatigued. As the darkness of sleep engulfed his mind, Yuugi briefly wondered how a solid wall could shatter like frozen glass, or a life, or dust, or a thousand dreams, when attacked with nothing more than the shadow of a thing?

 

._._.