Timeline I, Khemet 

“Bring him to me!” 

The guards kept their faces emotionless as they shouted their confirmation of “Yes, Great Pharaoh!” Saluting, they bowed and moved backwards, only to turn around and leave the Throne Room when they were out of sight of the great Sun and Star, ruler over Lower and Upper Egypt, the Pharaoh himself. Showing your back to him was always a bad idea - the Pharaoh was easily offended at the slightest sign of disrespect, and one simply didn’t turn his back to the son of the Gods. Atemu, son of Akunamukanon, had issued the order to bring a thief to justice; in his position as Pharaoh he was justice, and he knew how to use it. While the other guards kept a close eye on everyone present in the grand room, Atemu leaned back in his throne, flanked by his six Priests who served as his counselors.  

Mana softly sighed, shifting her arms as if she was hugging herself. It always felt cold in this room, no matter how warmly she dressed, and with the average temperatures of the holy land of Khemet, there wouldn’t have been a need for a warm dress in the first place. Her eyes darted around towards her fellow Priests. They were all silent, awaiting their Pharaoh’s orders, trained to adequately and efficiently advise him, execute his wishes and demands, and guide him when dealing with state affairs. He hasn’t asked much for advice lately, she thought to herself. She knew about his workload and responsibilities, but it had been a while since he had listened attentively to the input of his counselors. Mana blew a wayward strand of thick, chestnut hair out of her face. Not for the first time, she felt completely superfluous and unwanted - she was just…standing there, as to complete the holy number of six: six Priests to form the Pharaoh’s Court. 

Karim was standing next to her, holding up his Sennen Scales. The Item was used to measure the evil in one’s soul - she wondered what would happen if it were to measure Atemu’s soul. No, the Pharaoh, she corrected herself immediately. No one thought or spoke about him with his first name. He’d given her his permission to refer to him with his first name though, but Mana hardly used it nonetheless. She was used to thinking of him as Prince first, and Pharaoh later…and no matter what they had been through, the friends they used to be and still were, she couldn’t tear down that thin wall. It was too intimate, and it all but made her snort. They’d shared their bodies, she’d seen him naked, she had wrapped her legs around his waist and begged him to take her, and still she refused to call him by his first name because it felt too intimate to her.  

Next to Karim was Akunadin, the eldest of the Priests, but certainly not the wisest. She didn’t like the man, not one bit. It wasn’t only for the Sennen Eye he was wearing, replacing his natural eye and distorting the left half of his face, but also for the lack of compassion, lack of empathy, lack of…everything she felt with him. He was reclusive unlike Karim, who adopted her immediately into their little ‘family’ of Priests, welcoming her even though she took the place of her teacher, not ready for full Priesthood herself. Akunadin had only smiled at her, a smile that had given her the creeps; maybe his Eye could see right through her to the core of her very soul, and that scared her. 

She heard noises from the entrance of the Throne Room, but wasn’t allowed to look up; all six Priests stood opposite of each other, aligned in front of the Pharaoh so he could consult them at any time possible. She hated these meetings; it wasn’t as if Atemu listened to them and valued their advice anyway. It was meaningless to stand together like this, easily discarded and dismissed at any point the Pharaoh saw fit. I want to think of you as the boy you once were, my sweet little friend who plucked plums for me from the tree. Mana swallowed bitterly.  

Shaadah was standing in front of her, firmly clutching his Sennen Ankh to his chest. He was able to measure the kaa in one’s soul, determining whether it was evil or not. He was a hardworking man, truly devoted and diligent, but she didn’t felt comfortable approaching him with her own worries and doubts. She knew he’d never mock her or belittle her in her face, but still… ‘neutral’ was the best description for any person like Shaadah.  

“I didn’t do it! Let me go!” 

“Silence!” 

Mana closed her eyes, heaving a frustrated sigh. The thief, struggling in the grip of the guards, violently protested against being dragged across the floor. He grunted when he was hit on the head to keep him silent; she hated this show of excessive force, and she knew already what was coming. It hadn’t been any different lately. Her eyes sought out Aishizu, her fellow Priestess wearing the Sennen Tauk. The woman was the living illustration of the Goddess, claiming beauty, brains, intelligence and unruffled composure…there was almost nothing that could disturb Aishizu, and her words were held in high regard by everyone. Mana caught her attention, throwing her a pleading look. She only received a soft, acquiescing smile in return. Aishizu knew what was coming as well, but she remained standing lifeless, hands limp at her sides. The woman had only one negative trait, as far as Mana could think of: her calm acceptance of everything. No matter how heavy the storm, no matter how drastic a consequence, no matter how violent, bloody, or extreme a situation, Aishizu would always calmly accept everything. Her Item allowed her glimpses of the future; a possible future, anyway, and the glimpses were always confusing and difficult to interpret. Ironic for someone as linear as she was, but she’d accepted even that with her calm and silent demeanor. 

The thief fell to the floor with a loud thud, grunting in pain as one guard planted his foot in his back to force him to bow. 

“Avert your eyes, scumbag!” 

Mana pursed her lips. She knew there was no use in looking at the last one of the Court, High Priest Set himself. He wouldn’t come to anyone’s rescue; the way he held a tight grip on his Sennen Rod was characteristic for the man himself. He had a tight grip on everything: his emotions, his speech, whatever situation, whatever circumstances. Nothing eluded him; nothing escaped his grasp or attention. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid of Set. No, not afraid…wary, maybe. With the exception of Akunadin, he was the last one she’d ever approach. Set was always busy of course, and his strive for perfection in everything he did was well-known. He was blunt and harsh in his judgment and actions, but one thing was undeniable: his loyalty to the Pharaoh was beyond questioning. Her lips quirked into a wry smile. There was only one whose loyalty went above all and everything, at least, so they had believed…she didn’t notice when her mouth drew into a bitter, scowling line. So they had believed. 

“State your crime, thief!” 

The man gurgled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He’d stopped squirming, though his hands tried to free themselves from the rough rope tied around the wrists. With a quick glance, Mana could see the chafed skin and felt horrified when seeing the angry red abrasions. Her mind was already providing her with herbal remedies, her vast knowledge of the healing art renowned throughout the Royal Palace. She shivered, trying to focus on nothing in particular, just staring in front of her until this ordeal was over. The coldness in the room wasn’t due to any temperature - it came from the man in the middle, sitting on his high throne; the man whose word was law, whose will was strong and rigid, and whose eyes had changed from attentive and compassionate to heartless and cold, so very cold. Mana lowered her eyes, her arms still shifting as it was hard for her to stand still and remain motionless like the others. It had already been years since she took her Master’s place, but she’d never been able to acquire the ability to resemble a statue while the Court was in session. 

“Speak up!” 

The guard pressed harder with his foot on the man’s back, the thief groaning in pain.  

“This is what you deserve, you lowlife monster!” 

“Enough!” 

The guard immediately jumped to the side, as the Pharaoh had spoken. He bowed and knelt on the floor. Mana couldn’t help but sigh in relief; no endless torture and screaming this time. She almost blinked in surprise as the next moment, Atemu rose from his throne. With a collective gasp, the six Priests took a step back to make way for him as he calmly descended from the small plateau, taking the five steps in a composed and slow pace. 

The thief dared to look up, nervously licking his lips, a shudder wracking his body. The Pharaoh himself was walking towards him…he was going to come face to face with the exalted ruler of Khemet, the veritable son of the Gods. Something he’d never imagined happening when reaching for the gold and jewelry when he was… 

“Robbing tombs,” Atemu spoke neutrally. His voice was low, but not deep; he spoke without volume because he knew people would make sure they would hear him. “What were you expecting to find there? Riches?  Treasures?” 

“Answer the Pharaoh!” the guard on his left side nudged him with his elbow, digging into his ribs. The thief grunted again, his lips twisting in a snarl.  

“Gold,” he finally spoke, “I was looking for gold.” 

“You were looking for gold,” Atemu repeated. “You trespassed in a holy sanctuary, breached sacred barriers and called for the anger of the Gods…for gold.” 

The man licked his lips again, his greedy eye trailing over the jewelry the Pharaoh was wearing - earrings, bracelets, rings, his dia dia’ankh, his crown…and the most magnificent piece of all, dangling from a cord around his neck: the Sennen Puzzle. Not a second later, he was backhanded forcefully, a yelp escaping him. 

“Tell me,” Atemu demanded, moving his arm back to cross it in front of his chest, just above the Puzzle. “Did you try to steal the gold to buy bread and water for your wife and children, or did you want to use it only to enrich yourself?” 

The thief pressed his face down to the floor again, angry red cheeks hitting the cool tiles, mostly because of the guard forcing him to keep his head lowered. 

“My wife and children!” he sobbed. “Great Pharaoh, they have nothing to eat! I had to…I had to breach the sanctuary, for my children would die...!” 

“Great Pharaoh!” The other guard fumed. “This man has been caught in the act, with objects and holy relics on him, trespassing in the resting place of our ancestors!” 

Atemu seemed to think for a moment, before he turned around and walked back to his throne, the six Priests silently waiting. Mana lowered her eyes again as he passed her – he always slowed down when he passed her, and she knew he would look at her, but she didn’t want to look back at him – and climbed the steps again. 

“Rise,” he simply said while he sat down. The guards hoisted the thief back on his feet, the man trying to glare defiantly. 

“For your word that your wife and children are starving, you certainly do not seem to have any trouble looking after yourself,” Atemu continued. “Your clothes are in excellent condition, your body does not show any sign of deprivation. I saw the look in your eyes when you lifted up your head. There is nothing but greed in your soul. Not even your kaa is worthy enough of extracting - your bitter feelings are misplaced. Life is not a free ride. There are chances, challenges and opportunities enough, and skills and knowledge are rewarded. You, on the other hand, thought you could make an easy fortune by following into another’s footsteps.” 

The thief growled, but didn’t object. Atemu barked a short laugh; this time the disdain was more than obvious. 

“The King of Thieves is dead. Did you really think that a simple, petty thief like yourself could claim his title? You will have to do far better than that, and even then, death will await you.” 

“You needed the Gods to kill him!” The thief suddenly spat. “And you-” 

“The Gods I rightfully command,” Atemu interrupted him, though the guards were already at the thief’s throat to silence him. “Bakura’s kaa was strong, and he was an admirable adversary in some ways. I will give him the honour and credit of being the first and only one to date to rob the royal tombs - but you, my friend, you did not make it through the antechamber before you got caught. You managed to steal some holy relics and a little bit of gold…” 

Mana’s heart sank. She barely realized she was digging her fingers into the fabric of her dress, the hood of her cloak suddenly weighing heavy on her. Atemu was about to sentence the man, and it wouldn’t be a surprise what his judgment was going to be. 

The thief himself shivered, the guards keeping their firm grip on him. There was no way out; even if he did manage to break free from the guards, there were more at the exit of the room, and they were all wielding spears and staffs. He would be dead before making it through the door. 

“Did you really want to follow in his footsteps?” Atemu asked, but clearly didn’t expect the other to answer him. “Very well then. You will follow him: into death. You will be drowned in the Nile, and let it be a consolation to you that the holy waters will take your miserable life...” 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Mana still was unable to suppress the shudder when Atemu declared the death sentence. The thief was just that - a silly, greedy, petty thief, but he could pay for his crimes by working at the lands, in the mines, or at one of the large construction sites. Any thief could work off his debt and learn from his mistake, or so Mana thought. Besides, hard labour wouldn’t kill anyone. She lowered her head, feeling sick to her stomach. 

The two guards dragged the thief away, who erupted in loud curses and pitiful pleas, screaming about his wife and children. His cries ended abruptly, just barely outside the Throne Room; she suppressed another shudder. She had only the faintest of hopes that the man would die quickly out of fear instead of the anguish of fighting for the last gulp of breath…her mind couldn’t even grasp the concept of being drowned, and she was only thankful that she wasn’t obliged to attend the execution. Her breathing came in shaky gasps; it was impossible for her to stand still and to look in front of her as if nothing had happened. 

“Court dismissed,” Atemu said, tone of voice rather bored. The Priests seemed to loosen up a little and they all bowed one by one to him before leaving their respective places, about to devote their time to their usual chores and tasks. Mana heard the fabric of her dress rustle when she bowed to him, her hands neatly folded and her head lowered as she was taught to, and it was hard to believe that she once counted the days until she was able to wear the robes of a Priestess. They felt constricting and suffocating, instead of the prestige and rightfulness she always associated them with. Every Priest of the Pharaoh’s Court was wise, dedicated, devoted, strong and rightful…but why did it felt so wrong to be here? Because she was the only one without an Item – her teacher taking the Sennen Ring with him as he fled -  the only one still learning, the only one able to take his place…but unable to remove or cover up the stain he had left? 

Mana hurried to leave the Throne Room, glad that she could be away from the cold and the gloomy environment. Things had changed over the course of the years, and she knew who was responsible for it. She tried so hard to keep everything, to keep the Pharaoh himself, in balance, but she was slipping. She wasn’t strong enough for this; she missed her teacher and his guidance, not to mention his wisdom and patience. Mahaado…teacher. Why did you leave? We could’ve worked it out. Didn’t you trust me? Her hands clenched into fists, and the tears stinging in her eyes weren’t from sadness or grief this time. It was pure, unadulterated frustration and powerlessness - and she would’ve given everything in her power to make things right. Everything. Even her own life.  

“Mana…Mana!” 

She came to a halt, her large dress flapping around her ankles, the fabric rustling as the folds wrapped themselves around her body. The hood of her cloak slipped from her head, revealing her hair, the thick locks framing her face. She’d already recognized his voice. 

“Yes, High Priest?” 

“You’ll have to learn not to show your disgust so openly,” Set spoke as he walked up to her. She hated the man’s impossible height that made everyone automatically look up to him. His eyes were calm and open, and his words were slightly reproachful, not scolding. 

“He might be a lowlife, a petty thief, but he’s a human being,” Mana answered. “Working his debt to society off in one of the mines would be punishment enough.” 

“He did enter the antechambers of the royal tombs, Mana. You know how our Pharaoh feels about that…and how that weighs with his judgment.” 

“I know…but he’s supposed to judge fairly and with consideration, not by attaching his own emotions into the sentence. It shouldn’t be like this. There has to be a fair trial for everyone…” 

“The Phar…my cousin is a God,” Set dryly remarked. He held the Sennen Rod clutched to his chest, the golden Item faintly flickering whenever it caught a ray of light. “His judgment will never be questioned.” 

She showed him a faint smile, not wanting to irritate him. Set was extremely strict and straightforward; he simply said what he wanted to say, without sugar-coating his words.  He wasn’t one for chit-chat or idle conversations; though it was indisputable how hard he worked, it was also indisputable how honest and fair he was, be it very blunt most of times. Only recently it had become known that Priest Akunadin was Set’s father, and being the brother of the late Pharaoh Akunamukanon, that made the High Priest and the Pharaoh cousins. Set wasn’t the one to bemoan the fact that he could’ve been the actual Pharaoh; he saw his duty and obligations as his lifework and didn’t strive for any higher position then he was in now. Still, sometimes there was a faint glimmer in his eyes, harshness on his face and a little bitterness in his voice to be heard - maybe an old remnant of jealousy or envy, or maybe a hint of lament of not taking his chances after all… 

Set snorted, shifting his stance a little.  

“You know him better than anyone,” he continued. “He will not allow much to get to him, but if he does…the one to cross him in his beliefs and convictions has a very, very big problem.”

Mana shook her head, sending strands of her hair flying.  

“This is not the Pharaoh I know,” she said. “This is not the person I grew up with.” 

“He is my cousin,” Set repeated. “He was raised even stricter than me for his future duties and obligations as ruler and Pharaoh. He could not remain the same person you always knew, Mana. The burdens are heavy, the pressure is high. It is normal for people to change.” 

“It is his Puzzle,” she whispered. 

“Excuse me?” 

It didn’t elude her that the High Priest intensified his grip on the Sennen Rod. 

“Those Items of yours,” Mana said. “Mahaado knew there was something wrong with them, something evil…” 

“Do you still believe that coward’s words?” Set asked her derisively. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Set and Mahaado hadn’t gotten along. The High Priest wasn’t really friends with everyone, not even with his cousin, and he and Mahaado had been all but despising each other from the moment they met. To Set, only his own work and opinion mattered, as well as the state of perfection he’d achieved in everything he did - something he expected from his fellow Priests, and anyone unable to attain that level was by default less worthy. Since his flight from the Royal Palace, Mahaado had dropped to the lowest ranks of Set’s opinion; not that he was up very high in the first place. 

“My teacher…” she started, but immediately fell silent. He’s not a coward. He’s not! 

“There is a still so much you need to learn,” Set answered, “and learning how to see your ‘teacher’ in a different light than the pedestal you placed him upon would be the first thing.” 

“He had his reasons!” she hissed, unable to keep the strong emotion surging through her in check. She hated it when people criticized her former teacher, especially now that he wasn’t around to defend himself. Her fingers clutched again at her dress. He made a mistake by fleeing the Palace, and no one would let him live that down should they find him again…but she doubted the greatest spirit sorcerer of Khemet would ever be caught. It wasn’t for nothing that the Pharaoh’s troops always returned empty-handed from their search. 

“Like I said, still so much to learn,” Set looked down at her, tone of voice almost bored, just like Atemu’s has been. In some ways, the cousins resembled each other far more than they’d care to admit. She shook her head again. 

“He had his reasons.” 

“He was afraid of dying.” 

“Aren’t we all?” 

“No,” Set immediately retorted. “Especially if it is for our Pharaoh. No one could ever imagine that his loyalty was broken so soon when death was in his neighborhood. He disappointed every one of us, and our Pharaoh the most.” 

“I know,” Mana said, her voice low, apologetic. It was a big mistake, and she was sure it had contributed to Atemu becoming ruthless over the years. If Mahaado had been around, Atemu more than likely wouldn’t have turned out to be like this, the ruler people feared instead of respected, the emotionless Pharaoh that barely smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time he had held an open Court; both Akunamukanon and Atemu had been known for their desire to stay in touch with their people, their own nation. Holding an open Court would mean that everyone, no matter their social status, was allowed to visit the Royal Palace and ask for advice from the Priests and the Pharaoh himself. It all had changed, and she knew, deep down inside, that her teacher and his…bad decision were a great contributor to how Atemu was now. That, and that Puzzle. 

“Those Items,” she repeated, her eyes darting towards the Rod. “They all have a certain power over you. A compelling, corrupting power, and my teach…Mahaado knew that. It took him half of his heka to seal the evil in his Ring alone.” 

“If that is your way of explaining why he was so weak in his dueling with his kaa, then it is certainly a lousy one,” the High Priest said, unimpressed. “Mana, take it from me: Mahaado was a coward. He might have had his reasons, but he still left the Royal Palace, and his departure was disastrous for my cousin, only for the sentimental reason that he missed his friend. Your Master posed himself as a friend, but he did not think twice to discharge himself from all his responsibilities and obligations to leave his Pharaoh alone. I am glad though that my cousin saw in time what sort of ‘friend’ Mahaado was, and grew to be stronger from it.” 

“No, not stronger,” Mana objected. “Weaker. There’s no strength in sentencing people to death, no strength in cutting off all your emotions, no strength in losing oneself in darkness.” 

Set didn’t answer to that, but the expression on the High Priest’s face spoke volumes.

“I will leave you to your duties now,” he finally said.  

She bowed quickly, nothing more than a slight nod of her head really - usually the Priests didn’t bow to each other, but everyone made an exception for Set. She waited until his footsteps had died away until she all but ran through the hallway to her own room, throwing the door closed behind her. 

There was no knock on her door before it was opened; the burly guard was announcement enough for the one who was entering. Mana quickly rose from her chair, silently thanking the Gods for giving her the insight not to study Mahaado’s scriptures today; she doubted Atemu would appreciate seeing the writings of her former teacher strewn out all over her desk. 

“My Pharaoh,” she said and bowed for him. 

“Mana,” he returned, his voice warmer than before, and with a smile on her lips, she looked up at him. His eyes didn’t reflect the warmth in his voice and she quickly hid the disappointment she felt. It was too much to ask for. He lifted up his hand to stroke her cheek. His touch was gentle and she found herself leaning into it, believing for one moment this all could be honestly real. Someone who cared for her, someone who loved her and had interest in her, and saw her differently than she really was: Mana, not the Priestess, not the former apprentice, just…Mana. 

“Why did you leave my Court so hastily, Mana?” 

She shivered slightly when his hand slipped from her cheek to her bare shoulder. Her linen shenti was tied together in front just above her breasts, a golden jewel representing the holy scarab holding it into place. She knew it was his favorite kind of dress, and her cheeks colored darkly. Even now, after everything that had happened, she still wanted to please him, wanted to have his approval, while she lowered herself to nothing but a tool in his hands. She knew she wasn’t the friend to him that she used to be. Not because of her, but of how much he had changed…and still she longed for his touch, longed to feel his fingers on her skin… 

“My Pharaoh…” 

“In our private quarters, you are allowed to use my name, Mana.” 

She shivered again. It wasn’t as much as a reminder as a command, and she had difficulties addressing him with his first name - it created distance to her.  

“A-Atemu…” 

“Yes?” 

“That poor man…” 

“He dared enter a holy sanctuary,” Atemu said, and he all but shrugged. “We cannot allow anyone to trespass into our ancestors’ tombs, Mana. Those who dare know of the risk they take.” 

“He didn’t need to die,” Mana objected, and leaned a little forward so their cheeks touched. He smiled softly, his other hand taking hers and gently stroking her fingers. 

“Habeeba,” he said, lowering his voice. “Do you really think I would be merciful to anyone who dares enter the royal tombs? My father’s resting place has already been desecrated once. I will not stand for a second time.” 

“The King of Thieves is dead,” Mana replied, standing still as his hand trailed over her collarbone. “He no longer walks among us. I understand, Pha…Atemu…how you feel. Please...show mercy to those fools who think they can walk in his footsteps. Show them the errors of their ways, instead of sentencing them to death. You are the Pharaoh, the ruler of this nation - it is your duty to be merciful…” 

“I will not stand for it,” Atemu interrupted her, repeating his words. His other hand slid over her arm and shoulder, tracing her smooth skin. “I will not allow these thieves to roam free and think they can rob tombs unpunished.” 

“Atemu…” 

He didn’t answer and tilted his head a little instead, brushing his lips over her cheek.  

“Mana…” 

Hesitantly, her arm came to rest over his shoulders, knowing that the curve of her breasts would adjust itself accordingly, creating the desired cleavage. Soon enough, she would feel his hands on them, stroking through the fabric of her dress until he got impatient and would rip it from her, exposing her to the light, exposing her vulnerability, and she hated herself for it…but she couldn’t live without his touch, live without him so close to her. She would live for the thought that she could make things right, that she could bring back the old Atemu she adored, the boy who believed in justice and fairness without showing off power or intimidation. 

“Ah,” she gasped, as the Puzzle suddenly pressed painfully in her abdomen.  

Without another word, he pulled away from her, hands tugging at the cord to take the heavy Item off. As usual, he put it on her desk, the piece of furniture easy to spot from every corner of her room. Mana bit her lip. She knew she had to feel proud and honored that he trusted her, that he felt at ease enough in her company to take off his ultimate symbol of power: the Sennen Puzzle. It wouldn’t take long before he would put it on again, though. This weight, this symbol that had been put on his shoulders far too early, was something he couldn’t live without. It made her feel sick to her stomach, how he couldn’t be separated from the Item, that he placed it so that he could keep an eye on it from wherever he was. He would still steal glances at it, even when his hands were all over her, his body pressing hers down on the bed. He would look at it when he touched her between her legs, making her squirm and arch her back to lean into his ministrations - he would look away from her. She felt like crying as he laid her down on the bed, large golden earrings resting upon her skin as he kissed her all over. Crying from happiness because she liked, no, loved the physical sensations, crying from the feelings of hatred because she abhorred the physical sensations at the same time, crying from the powerlessness she felt…but her body was already responding eagerly, so willing, and her mind went blank. As she surrendered completely to him, she only cried one more time for the loss of her teacher, the loss of her innocence, and the loss of her hope.

   

Timeline II, Alternate Universe: Domino City, Japan 
 

Jounouchi Katsuya rolled over in his bed, pulling the pillow under his head closer to him, snuggling into it. He shivered - it was cold in his room. Damn winter, he thought, smacking his lips. It was a school day, and his alarm clock would go off any minute; until he heard the loud buzzing sound, he was going to doze a little. The sound of breaking glass made him cringe and he pressed his head deeper into the pillow, as if to shut the noise out. I guess dad is up early this morning too. He groaned. 

The second his alarm clock started buzzing, Jounouchi swatted at it, almost shoving it off the small nightstand. He hated getting up so early, but school was the only place where he could relatively be, or feel, at ease. There was nothing his father or his environment could offer him here but empty cupboards, no heating, a slap to the face or a beer bottle to his head… 

Yawning, he threw the blankets off, shivering forcefully. Would there be warm water today? Jounouchi got out of bed, traipsing through his small bedroom to gather a towel and a bar of soap. It brought a small smile to his face - Shizuka had bought him the soap, as she would often buy small things for him. She didn’t mind that he’d put up a show of not being willing to accept it, that she really didn’t need to buy him things, but they both knew he needed it - his father didn’t care about a thing, and his job as a paperboy wasn’t very lucrative. 

He opened the door of his bedroom and peeked through the opening; his father wasn’t in the hallway. Probably not in the bathroom either - the man hadn’t taken a proper shower since forever, and he didn’t want to come across him in just his pajamas. Hell, he didn’t want to come across his father fully clothed. He was an asshole, a drunken jerk. Jounouchi squelched the train of thought. He wasn’t going to ruin his own day - it was a Wednesday, which meant that he got to see Shizuka later this afternoon! 

He forced himself to whistle all through the icy cold shower - darling father probably hadn’t paid any bills, as the lights weren’t working either; he would have to take a look into it later - and brushed his teeth, squeezing out the very last bit of the toothpaste. Damn. Jounouchi tried to fix his messy blond hair, gave up on it and spend a few minutes getting dressed, grabbing his schoolbooks and leaving before his father noticed that he was up in the first place. He didn’t feel like a confrontation, not today. 

Jounouchi slung his book bag over his shoulder. With a bit of luck, he’d brought the right books for today; he always stuffed a few without giving it a second thought into his bag. For his schedule, he depended on his best friend Honda Hiroto - when he wasn’t obsessing over Miho, the airhead of their class. Despite everything, Jounouchi smiled again. He may not be every teacher’s pet, but he didn’t loathe school. He liked the PE and the arts and craft lessons, he always liked working with his hands. The boring biology lectures, the monotonous history classes, not to mention linguistics and math…he shivered. Coming across a certain corner, Jounouchi slowed down, listening to the sounds. The Hirutani gang was notorious for hanging around here, and even though he was a member of the gang himself, he didn’t feel like a confrontation with them either. He wasn’t exactly proud of being a gang member, but found it difficult to leave - with most gangs, it was easier getting in than getting out. He usually kept away from the fights and the petty shoplifting, not wanting to build up a police record. After all, he did want a job later in life, unlike the other gang members. Jounouchi might be dumb sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the importance of a steady job…especially for his sister Shizuka. He was the one who was going to take care of her; that was the least he could do. 

“Jounouchi! Wait up, man!” 

He didn’t cringe when recognizing the voice - it was Honda, not one of the gang members. Honda had always kept away from the gang, but he wasn’t exactly ‘innocent’ either - they both picked on younger students, especially the shy ones, in their own class. Jounouchi hit him in a friendly manner on the shoulder, by way of greeting him. 

“Hey man, what’s up for today?” 

“Bah, some chemistry test…Takahana-sensei really knows how to search out the most stupid assignments.” 

“Really?” Jounouchi couldn’t remember what the last chapter was about, let alone the most recent assignments.  

“Oh wait,” Honda suddenly recalled, “there’s supposed to be a transfer student coming in today.” 

“This late in the semester?” He groaned. 

Honda shrugged. “Yeah, obviously. The name’s Bakura or something.  I heard Sukimoto-sensei talk about it.” 

Jounouchi huffed. “School’s boring.” 

“Hey, are you going to see your sister this afternoon?” 

“Of course!” 

Honda fell silent after that, and Jounouchi shot him an impatient glare. He was very protective of his sister, and he didn’t need his best friend to go after her. Besides, didn’t he have Miho to make calf eyes at? It was tough enough already to keep the local playboy, Otogi Ryuuji, away from Shizuka. He all but gasped when Honda elbowed him.  

“Hey, it’s Mazaki.” 

Jounouchi groaned again. He didn’t dislike the girl, but to say that he did like her was an exaggeration - she was a bit pushy, that was all…and she’d been best friends with that Mutou kid. He snorted in remembrance.  Mutou Yuugi had been one wimpy, whiny boy, with his constant babbling about puzzles and games. He’d been the perfect victim for bullying, though - he always kept to himself, he was small and had the freakiest looking hair Jounouchi had ever seen. Yes, a perfect and easy victim…too perfect, as he’d left school permanently a few weeks ago, and Jounouchi was very certain their constant bullying had something to do with it. Not that he cared much; he cared only for himself and Shizuka. 

“Jounouchi, Honda,” the girl greeted them when she caught up with them, her uniform prim and proper, book bag slung over her shoulder as well. 

“Morning, Mazaki,” Honda grumbled, but she wasn’t one to be deterred. 

“I trust you two to have studied extensively for Takahana-sensei’s test, hmm?” she all but sing-songed, both their disastrous grades a public secret. 

“Chemistry’s stupid,” Jounouchi answered intelligently, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“There’s supposed to be a transfer student coming in today,” Anzu said. “In our class!” 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, kicking a pebble away. “What’s with the enthusiasm? There are more exciting things I know of.” 

“Yes, like hanging out with your gang friends,” Anzu snorted, shaking her head. “Or spending all your time picking on younger students. You leave this new student alone, do you hear me?” 

“Who died and made you class president?” Honda asked as they walked through the large gates, entering school property. Anzu glared at him, but didn’t answer and suddenly waved. Honda blushed furiously; Nosaka Miho returned the wave and Jounouchi chuckled, knowing that Honda imagined she was waving especially to him. 

He stifled a yawn. School was so boring; he’d welcome any distraction by now, even the much-anticipated arrival of the transfer student. He knew he failed the chemistry test already, so there was no use of pretending to be interested in the rest of the chapters. Finally, just as he was about to start whistling out loud or annoying the rest of his classmates by tapping against his chair, the door opened and Nagobana-sensei entered, followed by a young, effeminate looking boy. At least, Jounouchi thought it was a boy, though his long, flowing hair was telling him otherwise at first sight. He was wearing the boy’s school uniform and not a skirt, so… 

“Class, please welcome Bakura Ryou,” Nagobana said, and the class rose obediently to bow before their new fellow student. The class president, Jounouchi always forgot his name, delivered a short welcoming speech to the white-haired boy who didn’t seem to be nervous, but not exactly at ease either. He grinned to himself. Yes, this Bakura Ryou was the perfect next victim to pick on. 

“Tell us about yourself, Bakura-san,” the class president said, smiling pleasantly. That startled the young man a bit, but he returned the smile quickly, if a little flatly. 

“My father works in the archaeological field,” he said, his voice soft. “He travels all around the world, but mostly to Africa, and Egypt in particular. He even brought me a pendant from one of his travels. Because he’s so often away, I live on my own.” 

A faint blush colored his cheeks, as if he was embarrassed to talk about himself. 

“Welcome, Bakura-san,” the teacher said again. “Now…let’s see where you can sit. Ah, there’s a desk free next to Jounouchi,” he pointed out.  

It raised a storm of protest from the girls, who already had set their sights on the polite and friendly new classmate, but he simply walked forward and took his seat next to Jounouchi. 

“Hello, Jounouchi-kun,” he said. 

“Welcome, Bakura-kun,” Jounouchi answered, showing him a lopsided grin. The teacher called for the girls to stop their indignant chattering and tried to bring the attention of the class back to the new chapter from the chemistry textbook. Bakura opened his book, using his pencil to take notes, each and every movement calm and composed. What a nerd. Jounouchi didn’t stop to wonder why the new student wasn’t seated at the spot where Yuugi used to sit.  

“Class, class, that’s enough,” the teacher said out loud again and turned around to write something on the chalkboard. Jounouchi exchanged looks with Honda, who was very amused that Bakura had been seated next to his best friend. It wouldn’t do Jounouchi’s social status much good if such a sissy would be associated with him. He almost rubbed his hands in anticipated glee, mentally going over their bullying methods.    

After lunch, Jounouchi skipped the rest of his classes, even though the prospect of cornering and bullying Bakura tempted him to stay. It was still Wednesday, and Wednesday afternoons were holy to him. Jounouchi took the bus downtown; he was saving his money for driving lessons, but his job didn’t enable him to save much. He usually bought something small for Shizuka as well; she was his sister, she deserved to be spoiled a little. Life was hard enough for her already. Jounouchi bit his lip. The disease that had taken away her eyesight had been so rare and difficult that only a very expensive operation had been the resolution - money that no one of the Jounouchi family had. Their parents had divorced when they were still little kids, and Jounouchi would never forget the moment that they’d been separated. The car driving off with his little sister crying on the backseat was a reoccurring nightmare. It had only been a year since they’d re-established contact; mostly because Shizuka had managed to reach Jounouchi without their mother knowing. Even though their parents didn’t want to talk to each other anymore, that didn’t mean their children wanted to cease all communication too. 

He got off at the right stop; from here it would only take him ten minutes to the gates of the institute where Shizuka would be waiting. Jounouchi hated the word ‘institute’. It was a school for disabled children, not for the mentally ill. Shizuka never used the word ‘institute’ either, simply referring to it as ‘school’. She’d wait for him every Wednesday afternoon at the gates so they could spend some sibling time together. Jounouchi suddenly halted, and turned around.  

Behind him walked an elderly couple, too engrossed in their own conversation to even notice him. He frowned. He had the feeling he was being followed. Could it be that someone from Domino High was skulking after him to keep track of his whereabouts? The school could expel him if he cut too many classes… but the guidance counselor he recently talked to about his behavior in class - the man hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, with his morals and family values - hadn’t mentioned anything about him skipping school. Great. If you end up being paranoid, who’s going to look after your sister, huh? 

Jounouchi eliminated that train of thought and quickly resumed walking - he wouldn’t want to keep Shizuka waiting. Ah, there she was; standing outside the gate as she did every Wednesday afternoon. 

“Shizuka!” 

“Onii-chan!” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, a wonderful wide smile gracing her lips.  

Jounouchi hugged her firmly, lifting her up from the ground in his enthusiasm.  “Onii-chan! Put me down!” She giggled, wrapping her arms around him to return the hug. “You’re so strong! Have you been working out?” 

“Hard work only,” Jounouchi teased her back. He hated gyms with a passion - he got exercise enough from his job and running around at school. Besides, he had a fast metabolism; he wouldn’t get fat anytime soon. 

“What did you have in mind for today?” He looked at her face as usual, and got hit by grief and sadness, as he did every time he saw her. Shizuka’s eyes were so vibrant, so lively, such a beautiful color of hazelnut brown…they were sparkling with enthusiasm and excitement, and yet they saw nothing. It’s not fair! Her eyes simply stared into nothingness, and she’d seen the colors of the sky, of the ground, of his hair, of her own hair, of everything before…and he hadn’t been able to do a thing to stop the regressive disease from taking her eyesight. Shizuka never complained, never blamed him for anything. If only they had money…he would’ve sold his soul to pay for the operation. 

“I want to do a little shopping,” she said in return, her hand lifting up the tell-tale white cane with the red stripes. “And eat a little bit; I didn’t have lunch yet.” 

“I’ll buy you a sandwich,” he immediately said. He loathed the sight of the cane, but there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe, in the not so far future, if he had a job and enough money saved, he could look into the possibilities by then. Technology and medical science moved so fast nowadays, it could be very well possible that in five or ten years from now, there was an operation technique available that could give his sister back her eyesight. Until then, he was simply going to be the best brother he… 

“What, onii-chan?” Shizuka asked, startled as he suddenly pulled her to the right. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. Jounouchi looked over his shoulder. A woman was walking behind him, dressed in a dark blue business suit, juggling a cell phone, her purse and a notebook she was scrawling something into. For a moment, he thought she’d been a younger girl with chestnut hair, dressed in a dark cloak, walking far closer to him. That’s it. No more video games or watching horror movies before I go to bed. 

“Onii-chan?” 

“Let’s go,” Jounouchi said, cheerful. “We can’t keep the sandwiches waiting!” 

“You and your food,” she giggled happily. “I keep telling everyone that you’re a bottomless pit, and no one wants to believe me.” 

“You’re establishing quite the reputation for me…” he said, though he chuckled as well. Shizuka moved her cane, her other arm hooked into Jounouchi’s, the ticking telling her where to walk.  

“I really could go for a nice sandwich right about now,” she said. “We worked so hard this morning that we all forgot about lunch.” 

“What did you do?” 

“Mostly computer work,” she said, lifting up her hand briefly to brush a wayward strand of hair out of her face. Out of school, she usually freed it from the simple ponytail or loose braid, enjoying her hair flowing freely around her face. “The new speech recognition software we received is quite difficult, but really handy once you get the hang of it.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Jounouchi answered, almost absent-mindedly. He realized that Shizuka was learning a profession besides the practical skills she needed to live her life with her handicap, and he didn’t want her to sit at home and feel unwanted in this society…but his natural protectiveness for her always acted up, even more so when they were together. 

“You know I’m going to take care of you, later,” he said. 

“Onii-chan,” she tilted her head, “I know that…but you do know that I can take care of myself, that I can make my own decisions? I may be blind, onii-chan, but I’m not completely disabled or incapable of living my life the way I want to.” 

She halted as he didn’t give an answer to that. “Onii-chan?” 

“It’s all my fault,” he said. 

“No it’s not,” her voice floated towards him. “Onii-chan…it’s no one’s fault. If you really want to place the blame, place it on me. I was the one to contract this disease.” 

“Don’t you ever talk like that,” he growled. “You couldn’t help that…” 

“And you couldn’t help it either,” she cut him off. “Onii-chan, stop beating yourself up so much over it. I’m in a very good school that teaches me everything I need to know, prepares me for a profession, and once I’ve graduated, I’m going to look for a job and live together in a house with you.” 

Jounouchi snorted, but not disdainfully. Buying a house together was one of their favorite topics of conversation. 

“That is, if Ryuuji wants to…” 

“Ryuuji?” 

“He asked me to be his girlfriend,” Shizuka said, throwing her hair back and smiling at her brother. Her smile turned even wider, if that was possible - she showed her white teeth, her face all but glowing. 

“What did you say to that?” Jounouchi asked, though he already knew the answer. 

“Yes, of course!” 

“And he’s going to keep us from living together after we graduated?” 

“Of course not,” she said, still smiling. “Ryuuji knows how much we mean to each other. I would never give up my onii-chan for my boyfriend! We’re going to be one big family!” 

Jounouchi refrained from groaning out loud, to not dampen her spirits. She was on a first-name basis with Otogi, so it was serious, then…he would’ve to have a talk with the inventor of the Dungeon Dice Monsters game, and investigate for himself about Otogi’s intentions with his sister. If they were anything but honorable, he would let his fists do the talking. Shizuka chattered next to him, telling anecdotes about her school week, and he listened to her, wondering how her voice could be so cheerful and happy even though her life was so hard. She was strong…and here he was, moping about trivial things - though he wouldn’t call his potential brother-in-law a trivial thing. 

“What was that you mention about a wedding?” 

Timeline III, known universe: Domino City, Japan 

Pain. Excruciating pain. Moaning low in his throat, he tried to open his eyes. His head pounded, he couldn’t hear or see, and his limbs felt like they’d been broken…dead weight. He took a sharp breath as he turned his head a little; the sting of pain almost made him want to cry out loud. Better stay still and not move too hastily, he thought to himself. Where was he? It was dark, but not impossible to see. There was a little light, far in the distance…he moaned.  

All right, calm down. Think. What happened? Where am I? Can I get up? Shifting, every little movement agonizing painful, he tried to get up, but his body finally gave way and he fell down again, the world around him spinning. Not a very good idea. It wasn’t cold or warm, it wasn’t raining nor was the sun shining - where the hell was he? He wasn’t in immediate danger, so he decided to bide his time and wait until at least the headache had subsided. He waited and waited…until it dawned to him that he didn’t know why he was here, wherever ‘here’ was; that he didn’t know where he’d come from, or how he had ended up here. That he didn’t know who he was, what he looked like, what was going on, and this time he cried out in pain and fear, voice shrill and hoarse. Panic enveloped him and he cried out loud again and again until even the movement of opening his mouth to cry was too exerting for him, and he felt himself slipping away again.  

“No…. no….” 

“Yuugi! Anzu’s here for you!” 

“Coming!” 

Mutou Yuugi snatched up his Sennen Puzzle, a golden pendant shaped like an upside-down pyramid, and put the metal chain over his head. Satisfied, he looked into the mirror, checking the way the Puzzle was secured - he used to wear it on a rope, but recent events had proven that a chain would be far more effective. 

“I can’t believe it,” Yuugi muttered. 

“What, aibou?” A voice floated through the room, only audible to the young teen. 

“That so many people are after the Puzzle, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi answered, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to speak to a spitting image of oneself in spirit form. 

“I am really glad that you have chosen for a more…ah, sturdier solution,” the spirit said, his crimson eyes resting upon his home - the Sennen Puzzle. Ever since Yuugi had managed to solve this mysterious puzzle, his spirit and soul had been reawakened. For what purpose or reason still eluded the both of them, but he had faith enough that someday it would become all clear to them. For now, they had their hands full on finding his memories; as he didn’t recall anything from his past, and that was the most logical thing to look for first. 

“Mou hitori no boku...” 

“Yes, aibou?” 

“You’re daydreaming. We have to go to school!” 

“Ah, yes, you are right,” he chuckled briefly and the next second he was gone, retreating back into the Puzzle. Yuugi smiled to himself. One day, we’ll find your memories, mou hitori no boku, and then you’ll know all about yourself and why you’re here. Until then, we’ll be friends and help each other. Slinging the book bag over his shoulder and storming out of his room, Yuugi almost ran over his mother. 

“Sorry about that, kaa-san!” 

“Were you talking to yourself again?” the woman asked, throwing him a suspicious look. 

“S-sorry.” Yuugi blushed.  

“You’re growing up to be exactly like your grandfather,” she said, shaking her head though she didn’t sound too sad about it. “Now, hurry up, don’t keep poor Anzu waiting!” 

“No, kaa-san,” Yuugi answered and threw her a smile before turning around and thundering down the stairs. He really should’ve gotten up earlier - there was no time for breakfast now. Yuugi opened the door, squinting his eyes at the bright sun. 

“Yuugi, over here,” Anzu waved, her voice clearly indicating that she wanted to be saved from his grandfather. Mutou Sugoroku was the proprietor of the Kame Game shop for decades on end, and besides his love for games he was pretty much renowned for his appreciation of the female bust size. Anzu was too polite to tell him to knock it off with glaring at her upper body and she heaved an audible sigh when Yuugi grabbed her hand and dragged her off to school. 

“Bye, jii-chan! See you later!” 

“Really, Yuugi, your grandfather…” Anzu started when they were well out of sight. Yuugi was now the one to heave a sigh. 

“I know, Anzu…he doesn’t mean it like that, really.” 

“He’s a pervert,” she whispered furiously. Yuugi blushed again, trying to find a way not to belittle his grandfather’s actions…but he couldn’t find any, because Anzu was right. 

“He really doesn’t mean it that bad,” he repeated, willing his blush away. Anzu was far too optimistic and cheerful to let it ruin her day, and started talking about an upcoming school performance. She loved to dance, and this year the students of their class had chosen to incorporate dance in their annual performance. Yuugi wasn’t really looking forward to it and hoped he could avoid all the dancing by simply volunteering to help with the costumes and the stage settings. Mentally going over their classes for today, he listened to Anzu talking as she was describing her costume and the dance she was studying. 

“I think red would fit you splendidly,” Yuugi said, blushing at the thought of Anzu in a form-fitting, long red dress. They halted in front of the traffic lights. Anzu was very excited about the performance, as her greatest dream was to go study modern dance in New York. Only her best and closest friends knew of her ambition - Anzu wasn’t the kind of girl to flaunt it in everybody’s face, but she sure loved this opportunity, no matter if it was only a mere school performance, to demonstrate her skills. 

The traffic light went green and Yuugi already took a step forward, still listening attentively to Anzu describing the costumes for the dance. His feet had barely touched the asphalt when he heard the girl screaming his name. 

“Yuugi!” 

“Pharaoh!” 

“Wha…?” Yuugi looked up, realizing in a split second that a car was approaching him, fast. No doubt someone who had ignored all the red lights and was speeding up in the hope to win maybe a few seconds to arrive faster at his destination, oblivious to the pedestrians. Fear nailed him immediately to the spot, and he opened his mouth - to scream, to…what, actually? He was going to die - the car didn’t stop, wasn’t able to stop in time, it was only a matter of time before he would be hit, and pain would crush his body and the only thing he could do was staring at the headlights, stare at the lights coming at him. 

A flurry of dark brown and something akin to gold latched onto him, and instead of the expected pain he was all but lifted up and thrown to the ground, still painful, but anything was better than being run over. Yuugi felt his skin bruise and scrape, hearing the fabric of his school uniform tear and in the briefest of moments, he imagined his mother being really angry with him for ruining his clothes. 

“Ouch!  Ow ow ow!” He was undoubtedly bleeding, and his hands hurt - when Yuugi caught a glimpse of them, he saw nothing but blood and raw, red skin. Instinctively, he had put his hands forward to catch his fall; painful, but he’d survive. It took him a moment to realize that Anzu was still screaming his name, and that someone…someone was holding him at the waist. He tried to struggle, pain flaring through his body. 

“Easy, easy, my Pharaoh…! You are safe now…” 

Yuugi was flabbergasted. “What? Who’s talking? Anzu...?” 

An arm slipped around his shoulders, and he was turned around, eased down on his back on the ground, but he didn’t feel either asphalt or concrete…it was as if he was floating, being cradled like a baby. He looked up, though his vision was a little distorted, the shock of the near-death-accident still fresh.  

Dark eyes, chocolate brown with golden specks, stared intently down at him. 

“Pharaoh…Pharaoh, we finally found you!” 

That wasn’t Anzu’s voice. It was a female voice, but lower pitched and not panicked like Anzu’s had sounded just a moment ago. What happened? The approaching car…  

“It is going to be all right. You are safe now.” 

A male voice, distinctive, soothing, friendly yet distant. Respectful…in awe. Yuugi didn’t understand; why did they keep referring to him as “Pharaoh”? He wasn’t one…what was going on?  

“Ouch,” was the only thing he could mutter. 

“Mana, tend to his wounds,” the man said, the unspoken ‘please’ hanging in the air. Yuugi tried to make out a face, to see who was talking, but for some reason his vision was blurred. Concussion? But he hadn’t hit his head, had he? It had all happened so fast… 

“Yuugi, Yuugi!” 

“Anzu…” 

“Yuugi!” 

He tilted his head towards the direction the sound was coming from, and he heard footsteps as well; Anzu was coming for him. She would know what to do.  He felt light-headed, and he didn’t know if it was from the shock or if he really had hit his head. He barely felt any pain though, just a slight stinging sensation, barely anything compared to just a minute ago - he felt so at ease all of a sudden that he wanted to fall asleep. 

“Yuugi! You scared me to death! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for saving him!”

Anzu’s voice was still panicked and excited at the same time, and he heard the thud of her book bag being dropped to the floor. 

Finally, she appeared into view - a blur of blue eyes and brown hair, and her mouth moved, but he could barely hear her. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Anzu held up three fingers, ignoring the man and woman next to Yuugi, as well as the curious bystanders. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest; she’d been so scared that the car was going to hit her best friend and she couldn’t have done anything to stop it. Feeling guilty and relieved at the same time, she focused her attention on the small boy, wanting to know if he hadn’t hurt himself too much. 

“Yuugi, answer me. How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Fifteen,” Yuugi said and suppressed a groan. 

“My Pharaoh, do you not recognize me?” The male voice again, and Yuugi made a slightly irritated noise. He wasn’t a Pharaoh, and he wanted nothing but to close his eyes and sleep. 

“I’m not…” 

“Master, I don’t think he’s our Pharaoh…” 

Finally, someone who understood the situation. Master? She had a nice voice, that girl: determined, yet friendly and warm…a little like Anzu, but more…mature. He smiled as he closed his eyes, giving into the strange darkness that clawed at his mind, trusting his friend, and somehow those strange voices as well, that everything would be all right. 
 

“Yuugi...?” 

Soft, cool pillows supporting his head. The silent rustle of a blanket, a damp cloth on his brow, and someone calling his name. Yuugi blinked a few times, trying to focus. 

“Hmmm...kaa-san?” 

“No, try again.” 

“Anzu...!” 

“Yuugi, you had me worried so much! Take it easy – no, no, no, don’t try to get up, stay down.” 

“Anzu...what happened?” He rested back, reveling in the cool pillows, blinking a few more times.  

“That jerk,” the girl growled, keeping her voice low. “He didn’t even stop to see if you were all right. He probably wouldn’t have cared if he had hit you anyway, too occupied with how fast he was driving…” She shivered. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuugi said meekly.  

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for!” Anzu stared dumbfounded at him. “You had every right crossing the road, our light was green! The other guy scared the life out of me - he drove so fast I couldn’t even see what kind of car it was.” 

“Too bad.” He heaved a small sigh, knowing that it wouldn’t be of any use anyway - the police wouldn’t be interested in a near-accident like this. Yuugi felt bad. He could still see the shock and the worry in her eyes, though she tried very hard to cover it up by tending to the damp cloth on his brow. 

“I’m really sorry for scaring you.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “I’m glad you’re safe, Yuugi.” 

“Who pulled me out of the way?” He asked, faintly remembering someone talking to him, calling him “Pharaoh” and telling him that he was safe…Yuugi tried to sit upright, but groaned as a jolt of pain shot through his body. He fell back into the pillows again. 

“Lie down,” Anzu repeated, shifting the cloth on his forehead around. She bit her lower lip.

“I saw that car coming and I could only think of how it was going to hit you,” she said, her voice wavering. “I should’ve pushed you out of the way; I should’ve done something to save you!” 

Yuugi shook his head briefly out of habit, holding back another groan when the movement made his vision spin again.  

“Please don’t, Anzu. Don’t feel sorry, it wasn’t your fault!” 

The idea of Anzu pushing him out of the way and getting hit by the car herself was too horrible to imagine. She wanted to be a professional dancer – if she were hit and injured her leg, all her dreams would’ve been shattered. 

It started to dawn him that he wasn’t in his bedroom. He’d simply assumed he was at home; they hadn’t been that far en route to school. The colors around him were warm yellow and sandy brown, very much unlike the sky blue and light gray of his bedroom. When he – carefully – turned his head, he saw a wooden dresser, the golden knobs crafted to resemble certain animal heads. A small, embroidered piece of linen covered the dresser, protecting the wood from the porcelain water bowl on top of it. Anzu dipped the cloth into the bowl, squeezed it and put it back on his forehead again. 

“Where are we…?” 

A door opened as if to answer him, and Anzu startled, standing up from her chair and clasping her hands together, almost like a kid caught with her fingers in the cookie jar. A girl, slightly taller than Anzu, walked over to him, a warm smile tugging at her lips. 

“How are you feeling, Prince?” 

“Pr…Prince?” The confusion on his face spoke volumes, and his eyes went even wider when he saw the girl approach. Now that he saw her up close and personal despite his fuzzy vision, he blurted out: “Black Magician Girl?” 

Her smile grew wider, her eyes mirroring the warmth, her friendly face open and honest. Her large, round eyes took him in, examining him, and she shook her head briefly.  

“You are the Prince, not the Pharaoh,” she said and her voice sounded…dejected. Chestnut hair in wild bangs framed her face, her traits exactly as he remembered it from the card in question – which was absurd. No one could resemble a fictional person from a card game this well. 

Yuugi stared at her, noticing how she was dressed in a robe, almost majestically, that flowed around her body, loosely tied at the waist with an embroidered sash. The long sleeves hid her hands from view, just as the formless robe hid the outline of her body; the mass of fabric rustled around her as she sat down, reaching forward to take the damp cloth from his head. 

“I apologize,” she said. “It wasn’t my…our intention to meet you so soon. We were only wandering around…when we saw what was about to happen to you. Forgive us for acting so rash, Prince. We were only trying to do our best.” 

“I don’t understand a word,” Yuugi said, throwing a questioning look at Anzu, who wore the same baffled, confused expression. “I just want to go home, I don’t understand…” 

“Everything happened so fast,” the girl continued, ignoring his words. “My master wasn’t able to prevent you from hitting your head, but he did get you out of the way before any…more damage could’ve happened. You’ll meet my Master as soon as you have rested.” 

Yuugi frowned. Master? What was the girl talking about, and what was this “Prince” and “Pharaoh” thing? Shouldn’t he be in a hospital instead of with strangers? Out of habit, his hand went to his chest, fumbling around for… 

“Your Puzzle is close to you,” the girl said, eyes flickering over to the right. “Don’t worry, we won’t take it from you. If anything, we’re protecting you from losing it. You’ll need it, Mutou Yuugi. Prince.” 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” This was getting stranger by the second – if his head wasn’t pounding so much, he would’ve stood up and made himself scarce.  

“Because you are the Prince,” she answered, rising up from the bed, mattress squeaking. “There’s time to discuss this later. For now, you need to rest.” 

Anzu rushed immediately to Yuugi’s side again as soon as the other girl had left the room, closing the door silently behind her. 

“Who are those people? Why are we here?” He looked up at her, hoping that she would know the answers. 

Anzu gave him a confident smile, masking her own insecurity. “She told me to call her Mana, but she didn’t tell me how to call the man…the one that saved you. He was incredibly fast getting you out of the way of that oncoming car, but I’ll be eternally grateful for his quick action. She refers to him as ‘Master’, and he said ‘Apprentice’ to her once. He hasn’t spoken much but insisted taking you here, telling me that the ‘Pharaoh needed care and rest’. He said that they were the only ones able to give him that…” 

“I’m not a Pharaoh,” Yuugi protested. 

“I think they realize that by now as well,” Anzu couldn’t help but remark dryly, then she adjusted the damp cloth on his brow again. “If they would do us any harm, they would’ve done so already, Yuugi. I don’t know about you, but I feel strangely safe here…as if nothing can harm us.” 

Yuugi nodded, drawing comfort from her gentle touch, and sharing her sentiments. It did feel safe here, comfortable and warm, with no need for panic or fear at all. This strange woman, and her even stranger ‘Master’, hadn’t touched the Puzzle or tried to keep it away from him. From this angle, he could see it sitting on a stool, the heavy chain curled up around it.  

Anzu threw him a quizzical look. “Why did you say ‘Black Magician Girl’ to her?” 

It took him a few seconds to answer. “Because she looks like her?” 

“Yuugi, I don’t spend that much time looking at Duel Monsters cards. Not everyone can dream the game like you do.” 

He smiled a little sheepishly. “She looks the same but for the color of her hair… the way it falls, the way she looks, her eyes…” 

Anzu poked him gently. “I think you’re more than just obsessed with the game, Yuugi. Duel Monsters don’t come to life but during duels, and only thanks to the technology Pegasus used.” 

“Yeah,” Yuugi mumbled. Duelist Kingdom ended only a few weeks ago, though it felt like merely yesterday to him. The gaming tournament had made him more aware of his Other, the spirit of the Sennen Puzzle, or his ‘other self’ as he used to refer to him. Together they had won the tournament and freed their grandfather’s soul; a feat they couldn’t have accomplished without the help of their friends. 

If it weren’t for the high stakes of the game, Yuugi would’ve enjoyed the thrill of the duels, the holographic technology Pegasus had used to bring the Duel Monsters to life, the excitement of winning or losing…but in the end, Duelist Kingdom had taught him that evil forces were at work, unfriendly people who were after his Puzzle or his life, and wouldn’t stop for anything. 

“You better rest,” Anzu said. “I’ll go see if I can call our parents, all right?”  

Yuugi nodded, his eyes already sliding close. He was feeling a lot more at ease now that he knew where his Puzzle was, and she scowled a little. She didn’t quite always understand the bond between Yuugi and the Puzzle, but she knew about who was residing in the object. Yuugi’s Other. Straightening herself, she waited until his breathing steadied before turning around to leave the room. 

As the man had carried Yuugi to their dwelling, Mana had carried Anzu’s book bag, and she had been too busy fidgeting over the semi-conscious Yuugi to pay attention to it. She didn’t know where it was, and it held her cell phone - she needed it to call the others, who would probably be worried sick; it wasn’t like them to miss school. 

There was no one in the hallway, and delicious food scents wafted towards Anzu – was it already lunch time? She had lost sense of time ever since the accident; she hadn’t even taken a look at her watch, constantly guarding Yuugi. 

Who are these people? She was curious, yet careful. They had both been very adamant in taking Yuugi to their dwelling, insisting that they were the only ones being able to give him the right care and treatment – and Anzu had no choice but to follow them…not that they stopped her from doing so. 

“Lunch will be ready soon,” a female voice piped up behind her and Anzu almost screamed, turning around swiftly, head snapping. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to scare you,” the girl said and smiled at her. It was such a friendly and warm smile that Anzu was compelled to return the gesture, though hers was a little wary. 

“My name is Mazaki Anzu,” she introduced herself. 

“Mana,” the other answered, and left it at that. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mazaki Anzu.” 

“I thank you for your care,” Anzu decided to opt for the polite approach. “We really need to go home…our parents will be upset if we’re late.” 

“I understand, but the Prince needs to recover, and we will not let him go before we know for certain he’s feeling well again.” She didn’t say it in any threatening way – she was looking so open and honest to Anzu that the other girl understood it was genuine concern and care, not any malicious intent. 

“Why do you keep calling him ‘Prince’?” Anzu couldn’t keep herself from asking, curiosity burning. Mana’s face turned a little sad, and she was silent for a moment. Suddenly she moved her hand up, pointing to the open door leading to the living room. Anzu nodded in agreement and went ahead, stepping over the threshold and entering the large room, bearing the same colors as the bedroom - sandy brown, warm yellow and light orange. Her eyes immediately fell upon the man sitting in the corner, wearing similar robes as Mana. His were a dark bluish purple, and just as formless and covering the outlines of his body. He looked up the moment she entered the room, and she blushed a little. His gaze was scrutinizing, dark brown eyes with golden flecks piercing through her as if she was x-rayed. His chestnut hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and he was wearing something around his neck, obscured by the large folds of his robe. It looked like a golden collar to Anzu, but she didn’t inquire - it would be way too impolite, and she was more curious about them than their accessories. 

“Apprentice?” His voice was low and curt, but not unfriendly. 

“Master,” Mana answered, “Mazaki Anzu has the right to know.” 

“To know what?” she asked meekly. 

“The answer to your question,” Mana said matter-of-factly and smiled. 

Anzu blushed deeper, feeling extremely silly.  

“We are sorry to have caused this much confusion and grief,” the man said, though his intonation barely indicated any apology. “We will leave soon, as not to…” 

“Master!” Mana interrupted him. “We can’t leave, not now!” 

For a moment, Anzu thought that he was going to yell at Mana as he narrowed his eyes, a disapproving look on his face for being interrupted. 

“If we cannot find our Pharaoh, we have no business staying here.” 

“We’ve come so far, Master,” the girl pleaded. “We have found the Prince! He has the Puzzle – he must know where the Pharaoh is!”  

He remained silent, hands resting on the book in his lap. He’d been writing; next to his armchair was a small, low table with old-fashioned writing utensils. Anzu could make out a pot of ink and the small pieces of a material she couldn’t identify to write with; hadn’t these people heard of laptops?  

“It is our duty and responsibility to research each world for the presence of our Pharaoh,” he finally said. “If we cannot find him, the world is doomed and we have no business staying here.” 

“We found the Prince,” Mana objected stubbornly. “Master, we have to be careful in our research. We can’t condemn a world to a certain fate if we haven’t studied the circumstances and facts profoundly.” 

A very small smile showed at the man’s lips. “Very well, Apprentice. I am glad that you have paid attention after all.” 

Anzu still felt silly, having no clue where the two were talking about. She could feel the mutual respect between them, a bond that was so strong it was almost tangible. These two had been through a lot, she was certain of it; but they hadn’t given up, forging the strength of their bond with every experience. It was still difficult to grasp what was going on, and it astounded her why they referred to each other with ‘Master’ and ‘Apprentice’…her mind went back to what Yuugi had said. She had thought it was because of his concussion that he thought he saw the Black Magician Girl instead of Mana, but…Of course. Where the apprentice is, is the teacher…the Master.  

“You’re the Black Magician,” she stuttered. This wasn’t possible – this couldn’t be possible. People didn’t resemble fictional Duel Monsters, it was just a card game. As the man turned his head more towards her, as his attention had been focused on Mana, she was, however, very sure - the same stern look, the wisdom etched in his features, the intensity of his eyes.  

“My name is Mahaado, Mazaki Anzu,” he said. “I do not know this ‘Black Magician’ you are speaking of.” 

“Who are you…?” She was squeaking. 

“We have introduced ourselves. That will suffice.” He closed the book, indicating that the conversation was over. 

“Master,” Mana said, “they have a right to know. We have found the Prince, he has won the Duelist Kingdom tournament, and he’s wearing the Puzzle. We know Mazaki Anzu from other worlds…this world still seems intact.” 

“What other worlds?” Anzu asked, her mind racing about the possibilities. Mahaado stood up, setting the book aside, next to his writing utensils. He was quite tall, but not as tall as Kaiba - Anzu wondered why she briefly thought about the CEO. 

“If the timeline here is not broken, we still have a chance to make things right,” he nodded. “You are right so far, Apprentice. If we truly have found the right world, we can work from here to tie everything together.” 

Mana’s smile had become dazzling, and she clasped her hands together in excitement.  

“Really, Master? Have we finally found the right world?” 

“It looks like it, if our Pharaoh is present here,” Mahaado said. “We have to ask the Prince.” 

“Will we finally see him again? That would be incredible!” Mana sighed as if she was swooning over this Pharaoh, and Anzu was seriously thinking she was dealing with very mentally unstable people, no matter how friendly they were. 

Mahaado’s face was perfectly neutral, though Anzu saw something smoldering in his eyes. A certain hunger, a desire…this man was very dedicated, but she wasn’t sure to who or what. To this Pharaoh? But they kept referring to Yuugi as ‘Prince’…that might mean… 

“Are you talking about Yuugi’s Other? The spirit of the Sennen Puzzle?” Naming him like this felt strange to her, as she barely spoke to anyone about it, even between her and Yuugi. They hardly discussed it; all that Yuugi had told her was that the spirit had lost every memory he had, not even knowing his own name. He had helped Yuugi to get through Duelist Kingdom, and she could distinguish between the two of them if only for his voice…his confident, deep voice. 

“Other?” Mahaado turned towards her, gazing at her again. “The Prince knows…he has another personality?” 

“We simply call him the Other Yuugi,” Anzu said, a little meekly. “We don’t know much about him…he doesn’t even know much about himself. He has lost his memory…” 

“Gods protect us,” Mana said and laced her fingers together, lifting up her hands as if in prayer. “They have shown us finally the right path…” 

“Such pain.” Mahaado heaved a sigh. “He does not know, and I am not allowed to tell him.” 

“Master…” 

“Apprentice. We have to ask the Gods for their blessings and strength, for we have finally found the right world. It cannot be any different. We have work to do.” 

Mana looked upset, her lips quivering and grimacing, while her eyes were shining with hope and fear at the same time. Finally, her face was set in determination, and she turned around to leave the room. 

“Wait…!” Anzu cried. “What’s happening? You were going to give me answers!” 

“They will be given,” Mahaado curtly answered and was about to follow Mana, when he suddenly halted. Anzu was about to ask again, when she suddenly noticed the same: Yuugi was standing in the door opening, a confused expression on his face. She closed the distance between them, standing next to his side as he held on the doorpost for support. 

“Prince,” Mahaado said and bowed his head, robes flowing around him. Mana made the same bow, her hands still clasped. 

“I’m just Yuugi,” Yuugi said, “and I’d like to know what’s going on.” 

“You need to rest,” the girl said. “My healing took your scrapes and bruises away, but not the pain in your head. You need to replenish your energy.” 

As if on cue, Yuugi’s stomach growled embarrassingly, and his face flushed. They were used to lunch at school, and he didn’t have anything to eat in his backpack. He’d completely forgotten about food, being in this strange environment, with these strange people who resembled the Black Magician Girl and…he didn’t want to think of it. It wasn’t possible anyway. 

Mana suddenly laughed, a pleasant sound. “I think we need to feed our Prince before we can talk any further,” she cheerfully said. “Why don’t you take place around the table? I’ll be serving you soon!” 

She left the room, laughing softly. Mahaado looked slightly embarrassed, and he quickly made a movement with his hand, showing Yuugi and Anzu out of the room. 

“If our Prince would follow me…?” 

The dining room was small, and the only light available was from a rather old-fashioned chandelier. Anzu liked the atmosphere; the heavy wooden furniture blended well with the soft yellow colors, and it struck her that none of the colors were outspokenly bright. It fit them somehow; maybe they would reveal later how they acquired all this.  

Mana came into the room carrying a huge bowl. She took off the lid and picked up a large spoon to stir through the food. It was bamya, a meat and okra stew with a very distinguished scent. Before tasting it, Anzu could tell there were lots of spices, garlic prominently, in the dish; curiously, she watched how Mana served Yuugi first, then Mahaado, then her and finally she took care of her own plate. There were small side dishes of pita bread and lemon wedges, and Anzu was thankful for the large pitcher of water in the middle of the table.  

“Eat,” Mahaado said and everybody picked up their utensils - and waited for Yuugi to start. He noticed the eyes resting on him, and with a faint blush, Yuugi put his spoon into the stew to taste a little. 

“I hope you like it, Prince,” Mana said, beaming at him. He returned the smile, taking a sip of the water. 

“It’s quite different than what I’m used to,” he said politely. Mana nodded, enthusiastically eating.  

“I like the fish here,” she said, “especially rolled up in the rice! It’s sticky, but very tasty!” 

“Oh, you mean sushi?” Anzu asked, barely refraining from coughing. The hot spices burned her throat and almost brought tears to her eyes.  

“Sushi, yes! There are so many varieties, and they’re all so nice!” Amusedly, Mana took a slice of the pita bread and nibbled on it. “The ones with the egg in it are…” 

“Apprentice,” Mahaado said and she immediately went silent, though she didn’t seem bothered by him cutting her off. 

The food was good, a little too spicy for Yuugi and Anzu, but it didn’t satisfy their curiosity. Mahaado didn’t seem to be willing to talk about anything during the meal, so it went by in relative silence. Mana passed the carafe of water, refilling when it was necessary - the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement - and served tea and thick biscuits after she cleared the plates. Anzu wanted to help but Mana protested, saying that it wasn’t necessary. Yuugi wasn’t used to have tea directly after lunch, but he accepted the hot cup and inhaled the scent. 

“You speak Japanese very well,” he complimented as Mana straigtened herself and walked over to Mahaado to give him his cup. She looked over her shoulder, smiling brilliantly. It was obvious they weren’t from here – their dark skin, their eyes, the strange markings below it.  

“Thank you, Prince!” She said. “We didn’t need to learn the language, though! We pick up every language very easily. It’s just like our clothes; we can make them look like anything we want so we don’t stand out, even though the real clothes don’t change…” 

“Apprentice,” Mahaado interrupted her again. She looked a little annoyed this time, but bit her lip and remained silent. He wrapped his fingers around the cup and looked at Yuugi.  

“Prince, I once again offer you my apologies,” he said, taking a sip. “We acted a little rash, but we could not take the risk of you being hit by that machine.” 

“The car, yes,” Yuugi said. “I have to thank you for saving me…” 

“You do not need to thank me,” Mahaado said and his eyes went to the Puzzle, dangling from Yuugi’s neck. “It is my honor and my duty to watch over the Prince’s life.” 

“My name is Yuugi,” he insisted. “Please tell me why you keep calling me Prince. It makes me feel...uncomfortable.” 

“You’ve always been the one to see no difference in rank or status,” Mana said, and she laughed softly. “Modest and kind, gentle to the bone. The light in many lives, a good friend to all.” 

“It is because of your Puzzle, Prince,” Mahaado continued, leaving Yuugi to ponder Mana’s words. “That signifies that you were the one to solve it, after so many centuries. You are the wielder of its powers, the guardian of right, keeper of the shadow games.” 

“I…” Yuugi started. 

“When you solved it, the power of the Pharaoh was released and you inherited his soul,” Mahaado said, looking over the rim of his cup. “Tell me, Prince, Mutou Yuugi, about that other soul, that other person, your Other.” 

“How do you know?” Yuugi asked, his hands protectively cupping the Puzzle. Anxious, he pressed the Item against his stomach. Mou hitori no boku. They kept referring to him as a Prince, so by Pharaoh…they had to mean…his Other. They can’t take you away from me…he felt tired, the food satisfying his stomach and pleasantly warming him. His headache hadn’t gone yet, but he forced himself to ignore the pounding. It was so tempting… 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Both Mahaado and Mana jumped up as if they were stung, throwing their seats backwards. Even Anzu jumped up, never having experienced the transformation from this close. She almost yelped, realizing at the last second that he was her friend too - she had nothing to fear. Anzu sat down quickly again, smiling a little sheepishly at Other Yuugi; he was definitely different from Yuugi. He had crossed his arms in front of his chest, sitting upright, posture far more confident and rigid than Yuugi’s. His crimson red eyes sternly looked at the other two in the room who stared at him, both their mouths open. 

“Pha…Pharaoh!” 

Anzu’s eyes went wide as she saw Mahaado kneeling, sinking to the floor, gathering his robes around him as he went down, bowing his head. Mana looked at Other Yuugi with tears in her eyes, her face wearing a strange mixture of joy and grief, and she all but fell to the floor to kneel in a similar manner. 

“The Gods be praised,” Mahaado whispered, his gaze still averted. “We have found you. This world shall live.” 
 

Timeline I, Khemet 

The servants bowed to her in passing, but Mana barely paid attention to them. Her robes flapped around her ankles, the long sleeves covering her hands, her slender fingers curled into fists. The only jewelry she possessed was the golden belt, studded with lapis lazuli and ruby gemstones, holding the fabric. It had been a gift from the Pharaoh - Atemu - and every time she clasped it around her waist, it made her heart jump for joy, and plummet into an abyss the second later. It would never be the same again, would it?  

“Mana, where have you been?” 

She lifted her chin, taking the hood over her dark brown hair down, freeing the long strands from the confinement. 

“Priest Akunadin,” she said politely, looking him straight in the eye, pretending his left one was a normal eye, not a golden ball. “How does this morning find you?” 

“Quiet for now,” he answered, his voice slightly raspy. She had no idea about the man’s age; she barely interacted with him in the first place, despite having the same function as a Priest. Akunadin was the one keeping him in the background, observing, oh so sharply observing – and drawing his own conclusions, plotting to use his findings to his own benefit.  She could never think anything else of Akunadin but that he was constantly scheming something, crafting a conspiracy to overthrow the Pharaoh and have his own son ascend to the throne. It made her feel rather uncomfortable in his presence, as he had never showed any sign of sympathy or compassion – but it wasn’t her place to doubt the man. They had to form a unity of advisors and counselors, not to doubt each other. She quirked her eyebrows at his answer, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he walked along with her, his plain robe at ankle-length swishing through the air. A few guards passed them, spears in hand, and she unconsciously shivered, reminded of the thief sentenced to death. 

Akunadin was about to say something when they approached the familiar large doors of the Throne Room, the four guards outside staring at them with expressionless faces. One of the guards turned around to open the doors, and… 

“It is unheard of!” 

Both Mana and Akunadin exchanged surprised glances, unable to maintain their usual, neutral look. In the middle of the Throne Room, Set and Atemu were bickering, standing opposite of each other.  

“My Pharaoh,” Set said out loud, his deep voice easily heard in even the farthest corners of the room, “I admit that it is…unusual, but it certainly is not unheard of…” 

Aishizu was sitting in a kneeled position, hands in her lap, fingers laced together. Her eyes were closed – either she was in prayer, a trance, or very deep in thought. Mana assumed it was the latter, as praying in the Throne Room like this was very much out of place, and she wasn’t in a trance as her Sennen Tauk wasn’t glowing. 

Shaadah and Karim looked as if they had been scolded; both wore an unhappy grimace, eyes unreadable. It was something between the Pharaoh and Set – Mana could see they both were angry, though Set had managed to hide it better than Atemu. 

“Where have you been?” The Pharaoh barked as soon as he saw Mana and the elderly priest.  

Akunadin bowed immediately. “Forgive me, my Pharaoh, we were held up along the way,” he said. Mana bowed as well, inwardly surprised that Akunadin would even think of standing up for her. 

“You are late! Do not let it happen again!” he bellowed. “My cousin here has placed me in a terribly inconvenient position, and you slack off around the hallways!” 

Mana cringed. Atemu never referred to Set as his cousin unless he was really unhappy, but she didn’t need the tone or sound of his voice to determine that. The Pharaoh was all but red in the face – it would’ve been funny and something to tease him about if he weren’t the Pharaoh, able to condemn them all to death in a heartbeat. 

“My Pharaoh,” Mana started, relieved that her voice was soothing, exactly the way she intended it. “Will you please tell us what is wrong, so we can assert this situation and be of any help to you with our advice?” 

He snorted. “What is wrong? Wrong? The woman is wrong, that is what wrong!” 

Confused, Mana looked at Set. He had drawn his lips into a tight line, drawing all the blood out of them. 

“Kisara is not ‘the woman’, and she is not wrong,” he said, tucking the Sennen Rod in the crook of his elbow absent-mindedly.  

Kisara, Kisara…Mana remembered her: she was the extremely pale, white-haired, blue-eyed girl who’d been saved from being stoned in public. It was during a regular inspection of the city when Set, together with Shaadah, had stumbled upon the girl, dehydrated and exhausted. The citizens had been throwing rocks at her, terrified by her appearance. Mana had seen her briefly, when she was called for her healing abilities – there was not much she could do but have the girl have plenty of rest and take care of her dehydration. She had healed the cuts and bruises, and Kisara had been too exhausted to even muster up the strength to thank her. The Priestess could recall her pale skin and those startling blue eyes before they were closed. It was a certain beauty, yes, but so…completely different. No wonder the locals were terrified of her. 

“She can’t be judged on the color of her skin,” Mana said. “She can’t help the way she looks…” 

“She should not be here,” Atemu said, cutting her off. “She is like a white demon, infesting our society, corrupting my Court!” 

Mana still didn’t see the connection, and felt hopelessly inadequate. Master...! You could’ve calmed him down with a few words… 

“My son has every right to see the woman he has set his eye upon,” Akunadin spoke up, and a wave of gasps rippled through the Priests. Even Aishizu opened her eyes. The elderly Priest never referred to Set as his son in public – neutrality had always been the preferred course of action. The majority of them had crafted neutrality into perfection; after the initial shock, everyone bore the same, set-in-stone expression again. Except for Mana. 

“Set has every right to see the woman he likes,” she said, looking incredulously at Atemu. He was still red in the face, and her eyes went down to the Sennen Puzzle, moving with every heave of his chest. That cursed Item. She was so sure that because of the Puzzle, Atemu’s mind was blackened and hardened. The Pharaoh she knew and grew up with would’ve rejoiced for Set to have found someone he liked. 

“Thank you, but I can speak for myself.” Set straightened himself, using his height to his advantage, towering over the Pharaoh. Atemu didn’t step back; instead he looked up, eyes narrowing. 

“I will not have you associating yourself with a woman from outside our borders,” he spat. “We do not know anything about her background, she could very well present a danger to all of us – she is already tearing this Court apart!” 

“The only one tearing this Court apart is you,” Set spat back. “You are the one having a problem with this! No one objects to her being here but you. We have an obligation of hospitality…” 

“To our own people,” Atemu interrupted him rudely. “The whole town was over her, about to stone her out of fear. What effect do you think it will have if the girl continues to stay here? How will people think of their Pharaoh if he welcomes a white demon at his Court?” 

“The people will still think that you’re their God,” Akunadin spoke up again. “She’s not a white demon, my Pharaoh. She’s a fragile girl who had the misfortune to be born with exceptionally pale skin, and with white hair and blue eyes to boot. Why are we even discussing this? I doubt she represents any kind of danger.” 

“Are you objecting?” Atemu turned around, shifting his gaze from father to son. “Are you objecting to my words? This Kisara girl is not one of ours, and she will strike fear and unrest into our people. They were not about to stone her for nothing!” 

“She is my responsibility,” Set cut in. “I will take everything regarding Kisara upon my shoulders, and I will not stand for anyone abusing her, mistreating her, or speaking ill about her.”  

He pointedly looked at Atemu, who still focused his attention on Akunadin.  

“My son is taking every responsibility regarding to the girl,” he said. “We can either announce to the people that the great Pharaoh was as kind as to take her in under his roof, reminding the commoners that hospitality is a virtue, or we can remain silent and bleed this issue to death. This does not warrant the commotion you are causing about it, my Pharaoh.” 

Mana was glad that Akunadin was speaking up, but she noticed Atemu’s frown and his pursed lips, knowing that he was about to erupt. 

“I will not have any of it,” he said, turning around and stalking towards his throne. “I have a Syrian delegate here who will hear of this, simply because there are already rumors going around about the girl. I will not have any of these rumors spread outside the country, and I will not have any other heads of state think that I am weak and kind as if to give anyone food and shelter! I will do so for my own people, but not for strangers with an unknown background! Khemet will be strong and fierce, not weak and carefully tiptoeing around!” 

“She is not a demon, she is not dangerous!” Set exclaimed. Karim almost cringed, not used to his fellow Priest raising his voice like this.  

“She already has you in your grasp,” Atemu hissed. “Look at how you are reacting! You have never been this adamant in defending someone, and certainly not a girl.” 

“My Pharaoh…” Akunadin started, as Set took a step towards Atemu. 

“Enough!” He sat down on his throne, moving his arms to cross them in front of his chest. “I will not have this woman in the Palace. She can be moved to the servants’ quarters, and I do not want to hear one word about her! Set, you will have all the responsibility – if something strange happens due to all of this, it is your head that is going to roll.” 

“My Pharaoh...!” Akunadin protested, but quickly shut his mouth after one look from Atemu. 

“We will continue with the Court,” he said. “Unless anyone else has strange, pale floozies hanging on their arms? No? Fine. Proceed!” 

Mana was sure she could hear Set grinding his teeth all the way from here, and she quickly moved to stand behind Aishizu. Being close to the other woman always allowed her to draw some strength, and hopefully today the Court session would be without any thieves being sentences to death. She tried to catch Aishizu’s attention again, and the Priestess showed a soft, all-knowing smile. Mana hadn’t talked to her about Atemu’s apparent change; she assumed Aishizu simply wouldn’t have noticed much because she didn’t know the Pharaoh that well as she did.  

Heaving a soft sigh, she noticed Karim carrying a daunting load of scrolls, and she almost groaned at the thought that all of them had to be read out loud and listened to it. Half of these cases could be summarized very well, but Atemu insisted on listening to every detail – and truth be told, he had an excellent memory and knew to immediately spot any discrepancies and mistakes. As he picked up the first scroll, Karim send an apologetic smile to Mana and she couldn’t help but smiling back – he was a kind man, disgusted by Atemu’s earlier accusations and rude remarks. She was sure she could trust him, but she preferred to keep her own doubts of Atemu to herself; maybe one day she could talk about it, but not now. In time, she would be able to bring the old Atemu back, she was sure of it…and with surprisingly firm determination, she squelched every doubt about it. He will come back.  

The servants had set the large table for lunch; Set and Akunadin had immediately excused themselves and left the Throne Room before Atemu himself was able to protest. Usually they all had lunch together, an excellent opportunity to socialize and talk about mundane, less burdened things than state affairs and the threats of war. 

Mana walked next to Atemu as he went to the large table, the servants bowing as they finished putting the last of the dishes on. She saw the still warm, fresh loaves of bread, grilled fish, lots of fruit – dates and figs - jars of honey, some poultry in a sauce she couldn’t identify yet and warm vegetables. All the Priests took their own seat, waiting of course for their Pharaoh to be seated first. 

The atmosphere was shot, despite the dancers and the few musicians in the corner who were trying their best to alleviate the tension. Atemu didn’t pay attention to them, stirring with his fork over his plate until he all but mushed his food. 

Mana took pity on him. It’s not his fault. It’s the Darkness inside the Puzzle. Master knew about it…Gently, she reached for his wrist, placing her fingers on the golden bracelets. 

“My Pharaoh, you’re not eating,” she admonished, though very, very carefully. “Our ruler can’t afford to faint during the afternoon reports. It’s really delicious, please try some.” 

He pursed his lips a little, spearing a vegetable with his fork and eating it. Mana smiled at him encouragingly. For a moment, he looked just his younger self again, always moping and fussing when eating vegetables. 

Maybe all he needed was distraction. Not their activities in bed, which gave her still mixed feelings, but maybe a more permanent distraction. She knew she didn’t need to entertain the idea of becoming his wife. Not only wouldn’t it be accepted of a Priestess to get married, she had no illusions – only a very faint hope – that he would prefer simple, mundane Mana over the exotic princesses and women who threw themselves at his feet. He could choose from the most beautiful women; she didn’t stand a chance. A wife, a child…it would absorb his attention, take away the sharp edges of his life. Her hand went to her own belly, rubbing over it once. She knew of certain herbs that could…help her. An heir would please him, she was sure of it, very sure.  

“My Pharaoh…” she started, but at the same moment a servant girl took away her empty plate, bumping into her shoulder. Mana’s eyes went wide as soon as the girl touched her, gasping out loud. 

“Priestess…! My apologies,” the girl whispered, almost dropping the plate. Atemu’s fingers tightened around his goblet, and he would’ve thrown it towards her if it wasn’t for Mana quickly pushing his wrist down. To her own amazement, he allowed her to do so, and she looked up at the girl…and she looked into a mirror. 

She was looking down at herself. She was staring up at herself. Mana opened her mouth, but words eluded her.  

“Mana,” Atemu said. “Are you all right?” 

“Mana?” Shaadah, sitting opposite of her, worriedly put his own utensils down, eying her quizzically.  

“I’m fine, really, it was my fault,” she said, as the girl bowed for her and moved away with the empty plate. Confused, Mana stared at her own goblet. A masking spell. Someone in the Palace with knowledge of heka, and using it to mask her true face. Mana had seen right through the spell, looking at her own face. That couldn’t be possible – how could there be another person, looking exactly the same as she?  

“Mana,” Atemu repeated her name. “You look like you have seen a demon.” 

“I… I haven’t, great Pharaoh,” she mumbled. Her hand was still on his wrist, her mind faintly rejoicing that he hadn’t rebuked her.  

As the servants walked around to provide everyone with new plates and utensils, Mana kept an eye on them, but she didn’t see her look-alike anymore. Maybe she had worked too hard…? She had a lot of administrative tasks, and people called upon her constantly for healing and medicinal assistance. Nervously, she tried to eat something of her dessert, but she didn’t taste any of it. Mana tried to focus back on Atemu, who seemed to like the dessert drenched in sweet honey, but it was the only thing he really ate. He still didn’t mind her hand on his wrist, ignoring the glances of the other Priests; though it wasn’t really a secret that he slept with Mana, it wasn’t announced all over the Palace either. She withdrew her hand, unfazed on the outside that he didn’t say a thing about it, but at the moment she was more occupied with the strange servant girl than his quirks. She wanted to excuse herself from the table, but her own fear nailed her to her seat – she didn’t really want to think who could bring about to walk around the Palace disguising herself…with her face.  

The afternoon meal ended in silence.  Mana stood up from her chair, bowing towards Atemu and excusing herself. She immediately walked away from the table, leaving the others behind. She knew Atemu would probably visit her later on the day, probably angry about her sudden departure from the table, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. Not even her Pharaoh could keep her away from solving this riddle. 

It still hurt her, every day, how he had changed, and how he could get angry over a silly little thing like a woman’s skin color. What he had said in the Throne Room, to his own cousin…it was horrible, and no one was able to calm him down with just a few words like her Master had been able to, or Shimon. Maybe if he had been there…but the vizier had been ill and weak for quite a while now, and Atemu had discharged him from his services, the last honorable thing he had done to allow the man to spend the last days of his life in peace and good care. Atemu had never accepted a new vizier, and many had expected him to promote Set – the hallways of the Royal Palace had been buzzing with exciting rumors. In the end, neither Set nor any other Priest was promoted, and Atemu had never talked about appointing a new one. 

Mana searched through the hallways, knowing her goal. Now that she knew about it, she could trace the heka that had been used. She hadn’t forgotten any of Mahaado’s lessons, and her skill to recognize the magic had never been her forte, but from so close…? It was as if she had been slapped in the face. Why would anyone mask her face, what was her intention? Determined, Mana searched further, until the trail lead her towards her own bedroom. The audacity! Quickly, she opened the door and gasped for breath when she saw the girl standing by her bed. 

“Who are you!” She barked, spells running through her mind. She was able to defend herself, and she wouldn’t hesitate to throw a fireball at the other…her breathing hitched when she noticed the girl picking up the covers from her bed, gently smelling the fabric. Mana blushed furiously; housekeeping obviously hadn’t had the time yet to change the linens. 

“Just like I remember,” the other spoke, with exactly her voice. “Only I…have never been that close to him. I was just a kid. You really love him, don’t you?” 

“What do you mean? Who are you?” Mana came closer, hesitantly. Fear and unrest started to stir in her stomach; an ominous feeling of bad news, waiting to be told. 

“Who I am? Don’t you recognize yourself?” She pulled the hood of her cloak down. Most servants wore simple shentis, never with a cloak – her masking spell was really strong if she had been able to hide all her original clothing as well, as nobody had made any comment about it.  

“Your heka is…” 

“Familiar, right?” The girl put back the covers, her hand gently caressing the surface. “It’s yours, Mana. I thought you recognized it sooner, and I had to get close to you to make my presence known.” 

“For what? Why are you here?” 

“So many questions, so little time to explain,” the other Mana said. She looked at the bed, obviously slept-in.  

“Yes, I love him,” Mana admitted, vaguely wondering why she was speaking about it now. The Mana close to the bed allowed herself to smile, but it was a saddened, small smile. 

“It’s good that you do,” she said. “Because he has to die, and you will be the one watching him do so.”
 

Timeline II, Alternate Universe: Domino City, Japan 

Jounouchi hopped over the threshold of the class room, swaggering towards his desk. He was pretty early, early enough to miss Honda on his way to school. Oh well, his friend would arrive sooner or later - they only walked up together when they had the chance, not by some kind of agreement. Dumping his book bag on the desk, Jounouchi’s eyes darted towards the single desk at the back of the class. He snorted. He had no reason to be thinking of Mutou Yuugi; the kid had left school ages ago. He was always keeping to himself, him and his stupid games.  

Jounouchi’s standard grin widened a little. Yuugi had been easy to pick on, especially when he started bringing some golden box to school, which he called his ‘own treasure’. The idea of bringing a treasure box to school made Jounouchi almost howl with laughter. Who in his right mind would be such a girl, swooning over a gaudy box with some kind of puzzle pieces inside? He took out a few of his text books. Only once had he been able to take a sneak peek at that supposedly treasure box, and he’d been fast enough to swipe one of the pieces; he’d thrown that one in the school’s swimming pool, amused at the thought of the look on Yuugi’s face when he was about to finish his precious puzzle and noticing that he was one piece short.

Jounouchi shrugged as he plopped down. It wasn’t short after that particular incident that the Mutou kid had left school, mumbling something about helping his grandfather in his Game Shop. Jounouchi couldn’t care less and had been rather unfazed by Anzu’s prying, scathing death-glares. She’d been Yuugi’s friend all along, standing up for him - but Jounouchi was too much of a bully to understand the girl’s feelings about it. 

Other students came in, ignoring him for the most part. Jounouchi didn’t care about that either; he didn’t want that much contact with his peers either, and he had more important things to think about. Like his younger sister going steady with the town’s playboy, Otogi Ryuuji. The guy had his own gaming company, so he had money - which was a good thing, so he could at least support Shizuka and buy her pretty things. Pretty things she couldn’t see…he scowled. Jounouchi, you moron. 

“Hey, Jounouchi!” 

“Morning, Honda,” he said and shoved his seat backwards to put his feet on his desk.  

“Everything okay?” 

“Hey, more than okay,” Honda grinned. “We don’t have any PE-lessons for the rest of the semester!” 

“What?” Jounouchi sat up, eyes widened. Contrary to a lot of students, he liked PE; but then again, he liked being physically active far more than abusing his brains in class. 

“Yeah, something happened to Karita-sensei,” Honda shrugged, opening his book bag.  

“Apparently, he fell ill